Across the Fallow Plains (wip)
Probably created in 2023, may have been 2022.
The
ground was muddy after a recent shower, and Micah had to take care
not to slip. Thankfully, after walking this way many times before,
the ground had been worn down into a narrow trail, so they could see
where they were stepping. They made sure to tread carefully near
puddles, but occasionally the path was so flooded they had to step
into the surrounding foliage to avoid getting wet.
The
sky stretched high above Micah, a blanket of grey clouds sometimes
broken by a muted blue. The sun, obscured and softened, hung low in
the sky. It was a shame they were only able to forage so late in the
day, but the rain had only just stopped and they were going that
day,
gosh darn it. They always went this time of week. As soon as the
clouds gave way to the blue sky behind, Micah had picked up their
satchel, put on their boots, and rushed out of their shack.
The
valley wasn’t that far anyway, if they were quick about it they
were certain they’d return before nightfall, and replenishing their
dwindling food stock was well worth the (minimal, in Micah’s
opinion) risk of getting caught in the night and facing what lurked
in it.
Micah
slowed down once again, the ground was soaked and they were nearing a
bluff, so they had to be extra careful. They made sure to stay far
away from the edge, the ground was unstable there and if they fell
into the valley below it’d all be over. Micah looked past the bluff
into the valley. A large river cut through lush grass, and many thick
plants adorned the valley floor, a welcome contrast to the plateau
they were currently on. There were plants up here, sure, but a lot of
it was just sandy dirt, and the wild radishes here
were always small and dry.
When
Micah looked down into the valley, they thought the plants looked
brighter than they had last week, and like they sagged a little less.
As if they were able to reach up to the sun a little more. The recent
rains seemed to be doing them good. Which was good, because there had
been a bit of a dry spell lately, and Micah noticed that their food
was a little more small and tasteless than usual. Hopefully the
plants they foraged would be more substantial this time.
Micah
sighed a breath of relief. As annoying as it could be to always check
where they were walking, they were thankful for the recent rains.
Their
boot sank into the mud with a loud squelch.
Or
maybe not.
Micah
arrived at their usual foraging spot a little muddy but otherwise
alright. It was on a little hill in the valley, hiding the wild
radishes and field mustards that grew there from view. Micah stood
back from the plants, sizing them up. They didn’t have much time,
so they wouldn’t bother with digging for the radish bulbs. They
would just break the long stems of the plants at ground level, and
fold them into their satchel.
There
were white clovers covering the ground as well, so once they were
done with the other plants, Micah would take fistfuls of them back to
their shack. The flowers of the white clovers tasted pleasant enough
on their own, but this time they would brew them into a tea instead
of keeping them as snacks. Having something warm to drink during the
new, rainy days would be nice.
They
knelt down, and went to break a radish stem, when they heard a
chattering sound coming from the other side of the hill.
Micah
froze.
Oh
god, could that be a saxilio? Flashes of stubby legs with terrible
claws and thick, thrashing tails ran through Micah’s mind. They
usually only came out at night, but it wasn’t impossible to see
them during other times of the day. With any luck, it would be a
saxilio youth, they were much smaller and Micah could outrun them in
a pinch. They would usually lose interest if their prey got far
enough away from them. If it was
a saxilio, it hadn’t noticed them yet, so they might be able to
sneak away.
Micah
held still, trying to see if they could hear the horrible grating of
a saxilio’s stone limbs, or the clamp of its jaws in its eyeless,
featureless face.
But
it never came.
Instead,
as they listened, the chatter gave way to actual words. That gave
Micah pause. It couldn’t be a saxilio, then, as they weren’t
intelligent enough to actually speak.
All they
did was make weird babbling sounds. In fact, no creature was capable
of human speech. So then, it must’ve been a person?
It
sounded like someone was grumbling something, though Micah couldn’t
hear what. There were shuffling sounds, and the occasional harsh
step. Maybe they were kicking the grass? In any case, they weren’t
a saxilio, so at least Micah wasn’t going to get eaten, probably.
They could relax a bit at that. But that just raised the question,
who was this mysterious person in the river valley?
Micah
approached the hill as quietly as they could. They knelt down in the
grass, and after placing their hands on top of it, they slowly peaked
their head over.
There
was a person on the other side. They looked young, maybe around
Micah’s age. Their hair was a brown so dark it was almost black. It
was short around their ears, but was a bit long by their neck and the
top of their head. Dark brown hands tucked themselves into the
pockets of a faded green jacket. Suede boots paced back and forth,
and some patches at the toes had been worn off. The person themself,
grumbling and looking down, looked worse for wear.
There
were scratches across their cheek, and one of their sleeves was torn
open. Micah couldn’t see well, but they thought they saw flashes of
red beneath the hole. Mud was streaked across the person’s pants
and shoes, and it looked like they had gotten caught in the rain.
They didn’t look soaked, but they didn’t look dry, either. Their
face, downcast, was stormy, and as they paced they carried themself
with a frenzied energy.
“Ugh!
How could this have happened…”
Micah
perked up, now that they were closer it seemed they could make out
some of what this mystery person was saying.
“Stupid
rock lizards…” they said, pausing their pacing to kick the
ground. Then they crouched, and tangled their hands into their hair.
Miserably, they went on, “How am I going to get back…? I don’t
even know which way I came from…”. Slowly, they lowered their
head into their lap, and went quiet.
…Well,
Micah thought they’d seen enough. Their previous trepidation
forgotten, they stood up and hopped down the hill.
The
other person quickly looked up, and for a moment, their eyes went
wide. They looked like a scared rabbit, poised to flee. But then
their face collapsed into relief, and they said,
“Oh!
Oh my gosh, hi! I didn’t see you there, do you have any idea where
we are?”
Micah
gave what they hoped was a kind smile, and with one hand gripping
tight on their satchel, they gave a small wave. They could tell they
were a bit stiff, but it had been so long since they had interacted
with another person they had forgotten what exactly they were
supposed to do.
As
they walked toward the stranger, they whipped out their notebook and
pen, flicking past pages of recipes and locations of food. They
wrote, the other person watching them patiently as they did, “We’re
in a river valley. I don’t know what it’s called, sorry. Are you
lost?”, and handed it to them.
As
Micah watched their eyes flit over the page, they couldn’t help but
wonder where they had come from. They’d never seen anybody else in
the river valley in all the years they’d lived there. It sounded
like this person hadn’t intended to be there, either. And were they
alright? They looked pretty beat-up…
“Oh…”
the stranger said, and they sounded put-out. “Yes, I am
lost.”
They returned the notebook to Micah, and started fiddling with the
sleeves of their jacket. “Um, I’m part of a group of travellers.
We go to all different kinds of places, which means we have to search
for resources everywhere we go. After we set up camp, I started
scouting the area, and I…”
They
grimaced, “I wasn’t careful.” A guilty look came over them, and
suddenly they rushed to defend, “Nothing usually happens! I’ve
been fine every time before. But I guess it was
the evening.” They sighed, “I didn’t pay attention to my
surroundings. Suddenly, a bunch of saxilios came outta nowhere! They
almost tore me apart…” They gave a nervous chuckle, shuffling
slightly, “I managed to outrun them, but I found myself lost. I
barely knew where I was to begin with, so it didn’t help when I
just ran in a random direction…”
They
sighed, and looked down at the ground. Lacing their fingers together,
they continued, “I tried to turn back, but I must’ve gone the
wrong way… I’ve been walking for a few days now.” At that, they
looked back up to Micah.
Well,
that… wasn’t good. If they were wandering for a few days already,
then Micah doubted they’d be able to find their way back on their
own. Combine that with their injuries and generally haggard
appearance, and it didn’t make for a pretty picture.
Micah
gave them a concerned look, and a new worry came to them. They wrote
it down in their notebook before turning it around,
“Do
you think your group left the area?”
The
stranger’s eyes widened, and they gave Micah an offended look
before quickly shaking their head,
“No!
Of course not! It’d be a month or two before the thought of leaving
would even enter
their minds.
We wouldn’t give up on each other that quickly.”, they finished
fiercely, levelling Micah with a determined gaze that bordered on a
glare.
Micah
raised their hands in a placating motion and gave a short nod. They
hoped this person knew they didn’t mean any offence. The other
person nodded back, and placed a hand on their arm, looking much more
drained than they had before.
Micah
suddenly felt helpless watching them be so sullen, and they shifted
uncomfortably. How could they help this person? They gave them a
quick once over again. They could at least offer them a warm meal and
a place to get dry. Their shack wasn’t far, and they at least had
enough supplies for that.
This person couldn’t find their way back, but at least their group
was still in the area…
The
area…
Wait!
Micah
quickly looked up at the other person, causing them to jump, and,
clutching their notebook tightly, they quickly scribbled something
down.
“Do
you remember any landmarks from your camp? I know the valley well.”
The
other person looked stunned for a moment, before placing a hand on
their chin and looking into the sky. A smile began to stretch their
face, and they looked back at Micah. They said, with tentative hope
in their voice,
“Yes,
actually. We were at the head of a valley, and there were these
small… train? Tracks, and the remains of what looked like a kiosk.”
Micah
gave them a vigorous nod, and looked down at their notebook, tapping
the side with their pen. Okay, train tracks, kiosk. They thought back
to all of their explorations through the valley, trying to remember
anything that fit that description. Going south meant eventually
reaching the ocean, and there were
structures there, but nothing that fit that description from what
Micah could remember. Plus, there was a beach there, so they probably
would’ve mentioned it if their camp was
there. West and north were more wilderness, Micah had seen a few
campsites but nothing else. East…
A
few weeks walk to the east, there was a town. The closer you got to
it, the more man-made structures there were, but the structures
stretched out even far away from the town. If there was anything like
what this person described, it would be around there. They
remembered, from the little they decided to explore during supply
runs… park signs, fences, benches… and near the benches, in a
grassy area with concrete rubble… was a kiosk! A kiosk, overlooking
mini train tracks that wound around small hills.
Micah
excitedly wrote down that they knew where the camp was, but hesitated
before they showed them. If they gave this person directions, Micah
was sure they could
find their way, but would
they? How many days would it take them, unfamiliar with the path as
they were? They probably would
get there relatively unscathed, but…
Micah
thought back to the cuts along their arm and face, the miserable way
they laid their head on their knees, the homesickness Micah could
feel
lurking behind their eyes...
No.
It wouldn’t do. They’d get to their group a lot faster and more
comfortably if Micah was there to guide them.
That
decided, they amended their message and turned it around, throwing
the other person a triumphant grin,
“I
know where that is! It’s a two week walk to the east. I’ll take
you.”
The
other person’s face lit up, and they clasped their hands together
in front of them while giving Micah the biggest smile they’d seen
on them so far.
“You
do!?
Oh my gosh, thank you so
much! And you’re even taking me as well, thank you!”
Micah
gave them a smile, and waved their notebook in front of them in a way
they hoped communicated ‘no
problem’.
It was then that they realised something, and wrote,
“Since
we’re going to be travelling together, we should introduce
ourselves. I’d really like to stop referring to you as ‘that
person’ in my head. My name is Micah, they/them.” They handed
over their notebook.
The
other person read it over before blushing, “Oh! Yeah, for sure.
Sorry, I uh. Forgot to ask for your name.” they rubbed the back of
their neck. “My name’s Sylvester, but you can call me Sylvie! I
use he/him pronouns” he said with a winning (if not slightly
abashed) smile.
Micah
shot him an amused grin while they were handed back their notebook.
They silently hoped Sylvie didn’t notice that they had also
forgotten to do introductions. While facing him, Micah’s eyes
inevitably drifted towards the skyline, and they felt a small shock
when they realised it had changed colour. The remaining clouds were
set aglow with a subtle gold, and the sky had changed to a strange
[wheedling] shade of blue that was tinged yellow at the edges.
Micah
hoped they managed to tamp down any alarmed expression they may have
had before Sylvie saw and got frightened. They wrote in their
notebook, and flashed Sylvie what they thought was a reassuring look.
“Let’s
go back to my place. It’s getting late, and we need to prepare for
our journey anyway.”
Sylvie
looked around himself, and said with a worried expression, “Oof.
Yeah, let’s do that. I’d hate to be out in the open at night.”
He punctuated that with a nervous laugh, and it was a sentiment that
Micah couldn’t help but share.
Micah
swept the air with their arm in a ‘let’s get going’ gesture,
and turning towards the way leading back up to the plateau, began to
lead Sylvie back to their shack.
While
Micah wanted
to say that the path from their shack to the foraging grounds was
just as short as they made it out to be, with the sky ever-darkening,
the walk back felt much
too long for comfort. Evidently too long for Sylvie’s comfort too,
since the whole walk back Micah had to reassure him that the shack
wasn’t too far. When the shack finally came into view, the relief
between them was palpable.
It
had sturdy walls made from thin wood planks, which Micah had
personally taken from wood pallets, that had lasted them years of
wear-and-tear. They only occasionally had to replace or reinforce
sections. There was a blue tarp that lay over the roof, and Micah
mentally pat themself on the back for deciding to bring it back from
a broken department store, because it did an excellent job of keeping
out the rain. The door was made from a portion of a tree that had
broken off, and Micah prided themself on adding a rudimentary lock to
it. All of it came together to create their home, a place of their
own they managed to create over years. The fast-approaching night
only served to make them really
appreciative of its existence, again.
Their
heart began to beat faster with anticipation– they were almost
home-free. They resisted the urge to look around, because wouldn’t
it be just
like
the world to be ironic, and have something try to chase them down
when they were so close to safety. Micah wanted nothing more than to
run up to the door and throw themself inside, but they felt as though
any sudden movement would alert some nefarious creature, or indeed,
perhaps the world itself, that they were onto their little plan, and
would spur it on to pouncing on them before they were close enough to
the shack to safely escape.
Which
was most certainly not
what was happening. There was probably no creature about to pounce,
which was why they wouldn’t even bother
quickening their pace. Not to mention, it’d be really embarrassing
if they just started sprinting
towards the door in front of Sylvie (or worse, it might scare him.
They might make him think that they really were
being chased).
Once
they were upon the shack Micah wasted no time opening the door and
ushering Sylvie inside. It was only once the door was shut and locked
that they could relax. Micah could practically feel
the tension leave the air now that they were finally inside. Micah
took a moment to collect themself and formulate a gameplan before
they started writing in their notebook.
Sylvie
was looking around their shack when they turned around. They were
currently in the storage room, so there were many things to see.
Shelves lined every wall, and while most of it was filled with
preserved food and utilitarian items, Sylvie’s eyes would catch on
their more eclectic belongings. He was eyeing a small snowglobe with
curiosity when Micah’s sudden turn caught his attention. Micah held
out their notebook while pointing to their bedroom, which was
attached on the left side of the storage room.
“This
is my house. Please take a seat on the bed, I need to ask you some
questions while I prepare dinner.”
Sylvie
hmmed, and gingerly walked the five steps needed to reach the bed. He
sat down carefully, clearly trying not to disturb any of the clothes
and items dumped on their bed or the nearby shelves. “You’re even
giving me dinner?” He said, “Thank you. You didn’t need to do
that.”
Micah
shook their head and waved him off. Nonsense! As if they’d just
leave him hungry if they had enough food. Micah slung their satchel
into a corner and grabbed a large jar from a shelf before making
their way into the kitchen. It was a small thing, but then again, the
whole shack
was small. They took a large frying pan out of a cupboard and placed
the jar on the counter. After they put the pan on a hotplate and
sprayed a little canola oil, they took the jar into their hands.
Slabs of meat were curled inside, submerged in a yellow liquid. The
meal wouldn’t take too long to make, since it had been cooked
before being preserved in the jar. They would just be making it more
palatable.
After
washing their hands and gently placing the meat in the pan, Micah got
out their notebook and wrote down some questions for Sylvie on a
blank page. Where was his camp in relation to the kiosk? Were there
any other landmarks he could remember? Describe the landscape. Did
his camp make a fire, set up tents, or make any other obvious
structures? While Micah knew the general location, any details could
be greatly helpful. They slowly tore out the page (it hurt their
heart to do so) and handed it to him before returning to the food.
Sylvie
was just behind the corner, so Micah couldn’t really see him from
where they were in front of the hotplate. But from the soft thumping
they could hear, they thought Sylvie might be swinging his feet
against their bed as he considered their questions.
“Hmm,
well…There were a bunch of these orange flowers where we were, and
there were lots of small hills as well. But we were on a larger hill
that was next to another large hill, and there was this great steel
bridge that ran between them. I was too nervous to walk across it,
though. It looked really rusted.”
Micah
checked that the meat wasn’t going to burn immediately and walked a
little towards the storage room. Now they could keep an eye on their
dinner and actually see Sylvie if they leaned a bit. Just as they
thought, he was swinging his legs. Then he got a contemplative
expression and looked towards the ceiling, bringing up a hand to
frame his face with a finger and thumb.
“Our
camp isn’t that
far from the kiosk, maybe a half hour walk. We set up tents! They’re
a dusty red colour, and there’s tarps hung over them on poles.
Well, maybe,” Sylvie suddenly took on a rueful look, “We always
have these silly arguments over whether we should hang them. I’m
half-certain it’s a joke, but people get so passionate it’s hard
to tell. It’s been raining a lot recently so we’ve mostly been
keeping them up, but there’s always a few people who want to test
fate. They’re really committed to the bit!” He threw his hand up.
“We
made a fire, but it’s smokeless.
[They
share personal, light-hearted stories. Sylvie probably mentions how
his parents built the smokeless campfire and brags about them. Micah
shares some fun things they’ve done, like making ink and notebooks
or gardening. Or exciting things that’ve happened, like climbing
trees or outrunning saxilios. Since they only ever mention themself,
they imply they’ve lived by themself for quite awhile (like, ‘cus
the stuff they’ve mentioned was years in the past).
Micah
calls Sylvie over to help with dinner ‘cus they’ve just been
leaning around the walls this whole time, so it’ll be easier to
talk to him + cook if he’s there.]
Sylvie
came over, and looked slightly baffled when he saw the meat slab. He
seemed to come to a realisation, though, since the confusion quickly
slipped away. They milled around the kitchen, adding spices and
otherwise prettying up their dinner in between conversation. Micah
had to show Sylvie where they kept all their kitchenware, and soon
enough they were bragging about the hinges and the magnetic strips
they added to the cabinets and showing off all the garnishes they
made themself.
Sylvie
moved with the same gingerness as he had before. His arm was rigid as
he dropped some rocket leaves onto the meat.
“How
come you’re so stiff?” Sylvie looked at their notebook and then
them with a suddenly very perturbed expression.
“I
feel like if I touch a Single thing I will Shatter it into a Million
Pieces. There’s just so many things on shelves and countertops, it
would be so
easy to bump into stuff and send it to the floor.”
Micah
blinked, “Relax. My shack’s made of tougher stuff than that.”
They should know! They built the whole thing, they’ll be damned if
a little bump sent it all to shambles. “If you break something, I
won’t be mad,” Well, if he broke one of their trinkets, they’d
be a little
mad. “I won’t be mad,
*too* mad, since it’d be an accident.”
Sylvie
smiled, “If you say so!”
He
turned back, and while his movements were more assured as he flit
around the kitchen, there was a lingering uneasiness to his gait.
Micah
tapped Sylvie on the arm with their pen, “Most of this stuff is
replaceable anyways. No harm no foul. And if you replace it
*yourself* we’re definitely golden.”
Sylvie
gave Micah a small smile, and seemed to relax more, “Right, right.
Of course.”
Micah
examined him. He definitely looked
more at ease than he had been, his back wasn’t as straight and his
arms weren’t tense. From what Micah could tell, he seemed like he
earnestly believed that it wasn’t a big deal. But there was still
the slight tenseness in his jaw, and his grip around a glass bottle
of dried cilantro was tighter than it had to be. Micah looked back at
his face and realised that he looked tired.
And,
Micah had never been that good at parsing expressions and body
language // incongruent with initial meeting. Change needed. //,
even when
they were around people near constantly. So, maybe they were
misreading him entirely, let alone their next conclusion. But, as
they cast their mind back, particularly to when they first met, they
became less sure this was entirely about wanting to respect his
host’s belongings. Micah tried to think back to his expression when
they first entered their house, or when they were just chatting a
moment ago, but it was too fuzzy. They just couldn’t remember well.
Had Sylvie looked like this the entire time? Had they just not
noticed?
There
was a blanket of uneasiness that had settled over Sylvie. An
undercurrent to all his actions. And Micah wasn’t sure it’d ever
go away until he’d been reunited with his group. They felt their
face begin to twist, and flattened it hopefully before Sylvie had
noticed. That was probably too much to hope for, so Micah just
dropped their gaze to their notebook and hoped Sylvie wouldn’t be
able to understand it.
“But,
y’know…” they began, the previous mood clung to them like a
static buzz and they tried to brush it off as much as possible,
”maybe throw in a little something extra, and I’ll forget all
about it.” they tried to affect casualness, but they weren’t sure
if they actually succeeded. Hopefully they didn’t look off, or
hopefully Sylvie was just as bad at reading people as they were. They
did the best to lighten their thoughts and put on the sleaziest
expression they could manage. They were never that expressive with
their face, after all. Micah brought up their hand and rubbed their
thumb against their middle and forefinger.
Sylvie
stared blankly for a moment, before hitching his shoulders up and
making a sound in between a dying duck and a spooked horse. His hand
flew to his mouth and he turned away, squeezing his eyes shut while
he barked out laughter. He turned back around and placed his hands on
his hips, leaning his face forward, “Oh my god. Har
har,
Micah.” Sylvie elbowed them in the side, and they elbowed him back.
They
went back to working around the kitchen, occasionally handing each
other bottles of herbs or utensils. But as Micah milled about they
couldn’t help but think. Why did they say that? Well, they knew why
they said that, but why that
specifically? It’s not like Sylvie would actually be able to
replace anything if he broke it. It’s night, so it’s not like he
could search outside now.
They’re leaving first thing in the morning, too, and then after
that
he’ll be back with his group. They’re simply not going to spend
enough time together to be able to do that.
Micah’s
mouth twitched. Well, no. It still makes sense that they said that,
since they’re pretty sure people aren’t usually being literal
when they speak. When a person asks someone how their day was, for
example, while they do
care, they probably aren’t actually asking for a rundown of their
day or their true feelings, they’re pretty sure. They were just
joking around to make Sylvie less nervous. Micah was just using
humorous exaggeration to illustrate to Sylvie that it really wouldn’t
be a big deal if he broke something on accident, since most of their
stuff could easily be replaced. All of Micah’s actions made sense
within the context of their situation– Micah would bring Sylvie
back to his group, his family,
and then they would part, and that would be all.
After
shooing Sylvie away to clear their bed so that they could sit there
(with an instruction to just put everything on the floor), Micah got
busy plating their dishes. There really wasn’t much to do, they
just lay the meat down and put some lettuce on the side that they
plucked from their plant that was sitting with its roots in a
container of water. They grabbed some bottles of ketchup and mustard
and walked over to their room.
[Description
of Micah’s room. Micah places the condiments on a shelf. Sylvie has
not been able to see the food yet.]
With
a flourish, Micah tilted their plates towards Sylvie with a smirk.
They handed his plate to him and sat down. Their bed creaked with
years of use, worn mattress dipping under them the same way it always
had. Their hands clutched the edge of their bed on either side of
them, bundling up the coarse sheet in their palm, a soft and faded
yellow. When Micah turned back to Sylvie not a second later, he had
an expression like a rabbit caught in a trap. He turned to Micah and
gave them a smile, but it was all strained, like it was trying not to
turn into a grimace.
“Oh.
It’s finished?”
Micah
squinted at him and tilted their head. They nodded.
“Oh.
Okay.” Sylvie stared down at his plate like he was trying to figure
out a complex maths problem.
Micah
made sure their food was balanced on their lap before they took their
hand away to grab their pen.
“You
don’t like the food?”
Sylvie’s
eyes whip up from their notebook to their face, blown wide and body
tense.
“Uh–
Well– Er, I mean–!” Sylvie smiles, but his brows are furrowed
and he overall looks like [a man on a sinking liferaft // Replace this! //].
He’s silent for a moment, hands splayed apart in a frozen gesture.
Suddenly, he turns forward and slumps, putting his head in his hands.
“Yeah.
It looks really bad. Well, not bad,
but–” He straightens up to give a vague gesture to the meat, face
scrunching up all the while. His face completely smooths out as he
turns to Micah, giving them a blank stare, “It looks like [roasts
it by comparing it to something bland/flavourless]. It looks so
bland. This looks like the kind of food they’d give to astronauts.”
Sylvie
looks away to the ceiling, brows furrowed with thought while he
smiled, “I don’t know. I saw the meat before when I first came
over and thought it looked really unappetizing, but then I went–”
he raises his eyebrows and stares at the floor, throwing an open hand
next to his head with his palm facing Micah, “‘Oh, of course!
It’s in the middle of cooking, so it looks different from how it
will when it’s finished.’ But it was already cooked, huh? We were
basically just heating it up.” He looks straight ahead with a
rueful grin, hand falling into his lap, “Shoulda guessed meat from
a jar wouldn’t be great.”
Micah
nodded, and patted his shoulder in sympathy. Jar meat sucked.
“Yeah.
A natural, if unfortunate, consequence of circumstance. When you’re
working alone with limited resources, efficiency comes before
everything else. And efficiency means putting meat in jars filled
with yellow liquid. I promise it won’t taste that bad. It won’t
taste *great*, but it’ll at least be *alright*.”
Sylvie
looks a little doubtfully at his food, but nonetheless accedes.
“Well, if you promise…”
They
eat their food together. The meat is dry and takes a while to chew.
It tastes vaguely like [plant]. [Hmm. I would like to describe
eating, but I would not like to discuss mouths.] [The meat feels dry
and rough across their tongue. It takes a while to chew before they
could swallow it.] [The meat is a dry, thin slab that still takes a
while to chew before they can swallow it. It feels rough going down,
and the only flavour they could discern was a vague imprint of
[plant]]
“Sooo…”
Sylvie drags out, glancing at them from the corner of his eyes. “You
live alone?”
Micah
raised an eyebrow at him. “Isn’t it obvious?”
“Eh–
Well… I gathered…. There’s only one bed after all.” Sylvie
leaned back with his hands pressed together far in front of himself,
looking at the back wall, before rocking back. “It just seemed kind
of…” he made a circular motion with his hand, eyebrows scrunched
as he looked to the floor, “rude
to point it out since you hadn’t brought it up yet.”
Oh.
Was that all?
Micah
glanced around their room, eyes catching on beat up action figures of
shows long gone and coloured balls filled with glitter water with
brand names splashed across the front that Micah didn’t know. Well,
they appreciated the thoughtfulness, but there was no need for
concern. There was no tragedy that had left them alone, no monster to
take away their loved ones. They could understand why he’d thought
that– many people had lost somebody.
But they were not one of those people, and thus perfectly fine
talking about living alone.
Besides,
they hadn’t really talked to another person in a while. Let alone
talk about themself.
They had journals, many– picking up steam after that first one, all
lined up at the bottom of a shelf once finished. But talking to
another person… they don’t know. It’s…
They
could feel their heart beating faster, and it felt like there was
something pressing down on it. They read once in a book that the main
character felt something that “set their teeth on edge”, and it
stuck itself in their head, like a little, crystalline shard. The
quote felt sort of visceral to them. It lodged itself in their head
again, then.
Talking
about themself to another person was… nice.
Micah
nodded their head to show Sylvie that they understood his line of
thinking. Sylvie scrutinised their expression, and Micah felt a
thread of nervousness run through them. They weren’t sure what he
was looking for, and they weren’t sure that he’d find it. Their
face wasn’t always the most reliable at showing what they were
feeling. Would the conversation fizzle out, even if they were feeling
exactly what he was hoping they would?
Sylvie
leaned back, seemingly satisfied, and said, “What I wanted to ask
was, what’s it like living on your own? My parents were already
with our group when I was born, so I’ve only ever known what it’s
like to live with other people.”
Notes
This was written as part of my creative writing class (different class than the one I wrote The House Party for. This was also written before that)! If I ever finish it, I'm gonna send it to my teacher.
I have an outline for how the rest of the story will go, although it's not nearly as fleshed out as the one for The House Party. I have a good idea for how this first "chapter" would go, and after that it's vague, then the ending is more planned out. That's cus I was gonna flesh out the outline one chapter at a time.
Fun fact! When I was writing notes to myself, I formatted them like html notes (<!-- -->). Obviously I couldn't keep it like that, since they wouldn't show up otherwise, so I changed them to slashes!
PS: "Saxilio" comes from the latin "saxum" and "stilio", which mean rock and gecko/snake respectively (although I was going for lizard. *Ignores stelio*).
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