Fandom Love is Weakness

[NickNacks]

The Earth, despite whatever damage was done to it, would come to a balance. That was a law which governed periods of exception stretching back millions of eons, the single constant. Life might come and go, but the planet itself would always be there, silent witness to everything which was done to it.

The Grounders were the same. Silas had been taught not to expect that anyone would be kind to him, or that anything would be fair. He, like all children, was given the upbringing of a warrior, expected to excel in combat, to do what was necessary to preserve the survival of his clan. Over time, however, it had become steadily clear that these expectations didn't really compliment who he was as a person-the calculative mercilessness that his brothers in the clan was taught did not come easily to him. Too often, he would freeze up in combat, either overwhelmed or panicked. Too often, he was attempt reasoning his way out of things, rather than cutting through them. By the time he was twelve, it was clear that Silas simply would never make a good warrior-and by the time he was eighteen, he'd come to realize that for himself.

The practice of healing was sometimes scoffed at by other boys his own age, viewed as an option for cowards to still feel useful. At first, Silas had agreed, feeling cast off and ignored due to his own lack of skill. But it became clear that healing was a battle on it's own, more demanding at times than mere soldiering was. The ability to recollect which plants did what, which specific thing to mix would produce which tonic, did not come easily. And then, of course, was the fact that most of the injuries were brutal to try and staunch-limbs twisted the wrong way, or sometimes, missing entirely, or so infected that they would need to be removed. Sickness which stole over the clan like a foul rain, stealing away children and the elderly.

Healing was a different kind of combat entirely, one that no amount of muscle would affect.

He was washing bandages when they sky fell. The young man had been kneeling near a stream, letting the chilled water run over the fabric so that the rusted color would be swept off by the current, making them safe to reuse again. All at once, a sound like the scream of some long-forgotten god split the air, along with a flash of light.

With a shout, Silas toppled over onto his side near the stream, his hands clasped to his ears. For a moment or two, he wondered if the world, tired of it's abuse and suffering, had decided to exhibit one final act of wrath before blowing apart and scattering them all into the vast corners of the unknown. A second passed, then five, then ten. There was a great rumbling of the ground beneath him, as if hit with a sudden impact.

Then, all was still. An eerie silence stole over the ground. Slowly, little by little, Silas found that he was still all there and uninjured, carefully uncurling himself and drawing himself upward to his feet. The scent of smoke was heavy in the air.

A hand rested at the hilt of the sword near his belt, but a careful look around showed a trail of smoke issuing upward, great plumes which were too large for any fire. Bewildered, Silas steadied his nerves and began carefully making his way closer.

Hopefully, he would live through the encounter long enough to warn his people.

 

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Panic and adrenaline coursed through Chrys' body, pushing her toward the room at the end of the ark, where the escape pod sat untouched for almost one-hundred years. Jake Griffin was the one who had discovered that the Ark was running out of air, and fast, before releasing the news through the television system. He was floated for treason. And that is when Chrys started to work on the pod. She needed to escape, with Poppy. It was their only hope to survive.

For weeks, Chrys worked hard to even get the old systems running, and safe for landing. Now it was time to leave. Quickly, Chrys threw their backpacks into the pod, Poppy panicking as the buckled herself in. They had a window before the security officers made their rounds down the hall. After securing their things; food, clothes, survival items, etc. in the pod, Chrys buckled herself in. Slowly, the systems booted up and they were ready to go.

Looking over to her childhood friend, she grabbed her hand, saying a small prayer, "when we land, we have to survive. When it gets hard, we have to live. It'll be a better life for us..." She trailed off. She could see how scared Poppy was. Who wouldn't be? Going to a planet they didn't even know would be habitable. Not letting go of Poppy's hand, Chrys flipped open the button cover and pressed go.

It felt like they were falling. The speed made it feel like her butt wasn't even touching the seat, like she was floating as they sped toward the ground. Chrys' heart was pounding, as they plummeted toward their new future. When they hit the earth's gravitational pull, that's when she felt that she was back on her seat. "I'm going to let the parachute go!" She yelled to Poppy over the rumbling of the old machine.

With difficulty, she flipped the switch that would give them their safety net, hoping to feel the sensation of the parachute... but she didn't feel that. They were going to die. Grasping Poppy's hand even tighter, she closed her eyes and prayed. Prayed that they would make it out alive.

That's when things went black.

It wasn't for a little while, when she felt water rushing over her legs that she woke up. Groggily, she slowly opened her eyes, to see luscious trees hanging above her. This felt like a dream. Flexing her toes slightly, she felt the water move. Slowly, with every limb of her body in pain, she sat up and looked around. It felt as though she was drunk with the way the world spun around her. She was on Earth, and this wasn't a dream. Heaven would not have her be in so much pain.

Propping herself up she looked down at her body. Her clothes were torn, but the blood that should be on her legs was being washed away by the stream her legs were resting in. As she sat up more, that's when she felt the stab of pain in her side. Not wanting to scream for fear of what may be around her, she brought a very shaky hand to her hip where a shroud of metal had implanted itself. Luckily, from the looks of it, it seemed to be straight through her hip, no lungs or important organs punctured. Reaching down, she ripped off a scrap piece of fabric from her pant before carefully wrapping it around her waist to secure the metal in place. She would need Poppy's help with this.

Poppy.

Panicked, Chrys looked around for the girl, and not too far off she saw the wreck of the pod. Getting up, but with much difficulty, she limped over to where the scraps had basically exploded. From the looks of everything, she parachute had launched, but couldn't open. Frustrated, she looked around, and much like Chrys, Poppy was far off from the pod, but closer deeper within the trees. Going over to the girl, she noticed her friend was unmoving. Her chest wasn't rising and falling, her limbs were twisted in what looked to be in uncomfortable positions. Tears instantly sprung to Chrys' eyes. Kneeling down beside her body, Chrys began to do cpr, though she knew it was no use. Poppy was very clearly dead.

Chrys was on Earth alone.

 

[NickNacks]

The sound was quiet, but it was unmistakable one it came.

Someone was crying.

Silas's boots fell to a halt, his brow furrowing in puzzlement. Animals were unable to cry in the same distinct way that human's could, and besides that, the blast had forced all the animals had gone silent. Not a bird was singing-the lack of sound was entirely eerie, and the soft weeping from somewhere ahead in the trees made the whole thing even more surreal.

Silas swallowed, forcing down the unease. You are a member of Yujileda. You have encountered worse. You can handle this.

He drew a deep breath, and continued on. The sight he was met with was nothing short of hellish.

The metal thing was twisted beyond any hope of recognition, if Silas had anything on hand he wold be able to compare it to. It looked like some great, flightless sparrow which had become disfigured due to an attack. His eyes, brown and wide with shock, followed the plume of smoke upward. There was a small fire flickering on the ground from the impact, but it wasn't roaring large enough to be an immediate concern.

The person, however, was.

Silas had witnessed enough gore and bloodshed to look at the scene without flinching. But still, there was a sheer unearthliness to the scene which disturbed Silas to a degree he couldn't properly express. There were two people there, dressed in clothing he'd really never seen before. One was lying still, unmoving in a way that guided his instincts to approach. The other was the one who had been weeping.

The proper thing would have been to leave and report the issue to his Commander, back in the village. He didn't know what the thing was, only that it had seemed to fall straight from the sky, which disturbed him. It might have been an Ice Nation weapon, or something Trikru had been developing-though why their allies wouldn't inform them of this was beyond him.

But Silas, at his heart, at the core of his being, was a healer. And so, his first instinct was to help.

"Move." Instinctively, Silas dressed the girl in his native Trigidasleng, striding forward with some urgency. Kneeling beside the other girl, he took a quick look, expression grim. At least every limb was either fractured or broken. She was covered in her own blood. His hand reached out, resting carefully on the side of her neck. There was a gash, at least three inches, which had punctured the side of her neck.

Silas swallowed. She was gone. His hand moved to the dead girl's shoulder, muttering a short ceremonial phrase.

"Yu gonplei stem udon." Your fight is over.

 

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Chrys couldn't control her crying. Her best friend since childhood, just gone. And it's all Chrys' fault. She hadn't worked hard enough on the pod, and the parachute failed. Panic took over her as she rested her hands and forehead on her dead friend stomach, sobbing, and not much caring about what might happen to her. If she was dead at least she wouldn't have to survive the Earth alone.

But, when a low voice commanded her to move, Chrys shot back and scooted as far away from the... human? With her back against a tree, she stared in awe. There was a man, on the ground, in front of her friend... His clothing suggested he hadn't snuck onto the pod from the Ark. He was from the ground.

Slwoly, she moved a shaky hand to her belt, which had a holster for a knife. The only weapon she had come prepared with. But from the looks of his, she would be no match. Never would she have thought a human would kill her on the ground.

Eyeing him carefully, making sure not to look anywhere else, she watched. From what she could decipher he was doing something ritualistic. Mumbling low words in a language she didn't recognize. Who was he and how did he survive the ill Earth? Humans had killed the earth, and those who didn't make it onto the Ark, were said to have died, by nuclear gas. Warfare.

As her adrenaline calmed, she was very much aware of the fact of how injured she was. Every bone in her body ached, the shard, sharp against her soft flesh. Her heart pounded, for fear she wouldn't even be able to escape the same area of this person. She would be caught in two seconds. Slowly, she stood. Hoping, that maybe she could sneak away and hide within the trees.

 

[NickNacks]

It was dumbfounding, seeing another human, even if one of them was dead. Though he knew nothing about the girl e'd attempted to help, there was a certain hollow feeling in his chest as he looked down at the body. The clothing was somewhat similar to his, but a far cry in terms of the material and style. He didn't want to examine anything too closely, knowing it would be disrespectful, but the curiosity-and apprehension-remained.

At last, his attention snapped up to the surviving member. She, too, was dressed oddly, though it didn't take him long to see she was armed and scared. That wasn't usually a good combination. Cautious, Silas lifted both his hands upward, palms empty in the universal gesture of no threats meant.

It was obvious that there were dark patches of blood on her clothing, a sign of a non-fatal injury. "There's no danger," He said, but the expression on her face made it clear that she didn't speak his native language. He would need to speak English, of which he had only a marginal academic understanding. Still, he tried again.

"You're hurt. If you run, it will get worse." There was a strange method to how Silas articulated the words, his accent seeming choppy and gruff. "Sit." he added, gesturing carefully for her to do so. As for himself, he quickly opened and rummaged through the satchel which lay across his shoulders, withdrawing a few strips of spare cloth.

Silas took a small step closer, now looking her over with a professional eye. She wasn't injured critically, but it would be better to take care of it now rather than wait around for it to get worse. Her legs were only cut, and would be sore, but they didn't appear to be broken. As for her side...He gestured to the cleaning metal thing embedded into her waist. "This...This must come out," he said, his brow furrowing in sympathy. "It will hurt."

 

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Chrys watched the stranger, not showing any signs of believing him, but eventually when she felt a wave of dizziness, she very slowly sat back down, but kept herself aware that her knife was an option in the situation of being in danger with this person. His accent was thick, and even more so when he spoke his native tongue. She didn't know where she was on Earth. She had mapped out she would be somewhere close to the rocky mountains, but did they speak this in this language when the Earth first went bad?

With her back against the tree, she found it more hard to breath now, as taking deep breaths dragged against the shard. He was right though, she didn't think she could run at all. As he stepped closer she tensed. She didn't know what him and his people were like, and with the weapon at his side, they could be savages for all she knew. Though as surprised as she was with this new culture, he spoke English well.

Doing her best not to be scared she let him approach, "yeah... I know." She responded to him for the first time. Carefully, she unwrapped the fabric she had tied to keep it in place, though her hands were heavily shaking. But, she managed to get the fabric undone, blood dripping out more. Her eyes quickly diverted from the wound, the looks of it making her whoozy. She feared that she may faint, and grabbed a hand full of dirt and moss beneath her, "well get it done." She told him, closing her eyes tightly.

Fear had taken over the adrenaline in her body. She was shaking, she felt hot but also cold. How long has she been unconscious before this man found her? Days? Hours? Opening her eyes she looked at him. The situation was strange and uncomfortable. Her best friend was gone, she was in the middle of nowhere, her supplies? She didn't know if any of that survived from either being lost in the woods or on fire. "Your name?" She asked, trying to distract herself. Maybe make peace with this person.

 

[NickNacks]

In Grounder society, there was not the privilege to be gentle. With so many people wounded, often as many as ten a day, you had to be quick about your treatment to get to the next. So, his his jaw set, Silas settled one hand on the shard, gripped it tight, and pulled it out with a sharp tug. The blood flow increased, but Silas didn't give it a chance to keep pouring. In an instant, he was wrapping cloth around her waist, pulling the bindings tightly.

He glanced upward at the question. The girl was probably trying to start conversation to distract from everything...If she even thought the same way he did. If she came from the skies, there was no telling what kind of person she was. In fact, Silas thought with a jolt, there was no telling what kinds of illnesses she could be carrying. Though then again, he'd been exposed to pretty much everything over the course of his duties, more or less.

"I'm called Silas," He replied, tying the bandage with some degree of caution. The wound wasn't debilitating, but it couldn't have felt very good, and would certainly impact her movement. It was a good thing a majority of the animals had been frightened off by the blast, or they would've smelled the blood by now and come looking. Once the main problem was over and done with, Silas looked up at her eyes. Her pupils looked like they were working properly, so there was no concussion hopefully.

He lifted one hand upward. "Look this way," he instructed, moving his hand slowly to the right, then the left again. "Good." So she was still able to track motion. That left...Other questions. Silas drew his sword in order to get a better look at the wreckage, carefully prodding a sheet of the metal with the end of the blade. "You came in this?" he asked, still utterly puzzled. "How? From where?"

 

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The scream that escaped her as Silas pulled the shard from her side was inevitable. The pain making her vision go black in the corners. It took her a little bit to recover from the dizzy spell the pain caused before she repeated his name, "Silas. Cool name." She told him, doing her best to not feel so uncomfortable. After he made sure she could follow his instructions before standing, she leaned her head back against the tree and closed her eyes for a moment before slowly crawling over to her dead friends body. Carefully, though it wouldn't matter much, she removed a necklace that was around her neck. It was covered in blood.

Shaking, she closed her friends eyes. After standing, she slowly started walking toward the stream she had originally regained consciousness in. But her short trek was cut short as Silas spoke to her again. It took her a moment to think about what he said as she looked over the wreckage. It really was a mess. And it made sense that he didn't understand it. "Yes. I did." She thought, unsure of how she would explain to this person how she came from space. What if he didn't know what space was? "I was like a house, small. Could hold me and Poppy, my friend. We came from space. From a bigger home. A bigger one than this." She did her best before continuing to the stream.

When she reached it, she knelt down and started washing off the necklace. When it was clean she moved to clasp it around her neck. Going back to the wreckage, she pushed some things to look for her backpack. It took a bit, but after moving a rather hot piece of metal she found it, covered in some ash and dirt. Picking it up, she patted off the dirt, hooking it around her back, then continuing to search for Poppy's bag. Even though her friend was now dead, Poppy would want Chrys to have whatever survival things she had packed. But when she was unable to find it, she became more frustrated, which only added to the pain her body was in.

Ignoring the migraine that was now setting in, she searched more. And when she eventually found it, it was torn apart and things were spilling out of it. Grabbing whatever was salvageable, she packed it into her own, already full bag. "I'm Chrys by the way. Have you been on Earth this whole time?" She asked him, going back over to him but keeping her distance now that she didn't need his help. Though she didn't know how far she would be able to go or what the earth was now like. Were there more people? Would they help her the way he did? Where there animals and food? Frowning, she looked down. She didn't trust him, and he didn't trust her. It was evident. She didn't mind.

 

[NickNacks]

There didn't seem to be much of anything salvageable amid the wreckage, but Silas did take a moment to stomp a few of the flames out, just in case they decided to spread. He kept a wary eye on the girl as well-Chrys. For having just lost a friend, she was remarkably calm, but then again, that was probably the shock. Soon, her adrenaline would wear off, and she'd be exhausted. What was he supposed to do with her in the meantime? Common sense would mean leaving her out here to fend for herself-after all, he knew nothing about who she was or where she was from.

But....Silas heaved a small sigh, turning to watch Chrys again. For a healer to leave someone so injured and lost alone in the wilds...She would almost certainly die. Starve to death, probably. He wouldn't be much of a healer, if he allowed that to occur. And besides, maybe it was selfish, but he had several more questions. "From space." He repeated quietly, his glance flickering upward. She couldn't be talking about the sky, could she? No one knew what lay there, beyond the stars, expect Chrys apparently. "A house in space.." he couldn't help but scoff at the thought. There were no houses in space. How could there be? Unless that was what the metal thing had been.

While Chrys took a moment to rinse a small necklace around her neck, Silas took a moment to fill up his flask from the stream. It took some time and practice to be able to determine which water was safe to drink from-the trick was looking for other things which drank from it. He knew a family of frogs who lived close to the banks here-if the water had not killed them, he would be safe. He took a few long gulps, filled the flask again, and extended it outward to Chrys. "You have bled. You will need to drink." Again, he found himself slightly frustrated with his choppy English. He always sounded much smarter in Trigidasleng.

He frowned a little at her question. "Where else would I be? I was born here." Humans had always managed to survive on Earth. He was descended from a long line of those who either had chosen to stay, or had been left behind when the time had come. It was a heritage of survivors, and Silas was proud of it. Stories about former Bayleaf leaders and heroes were passed down from century to century, ever since the group was founded in the marshes. "Why have you come? Or did you just...Fall?" If she had come on purpose, there might be trouble if she was here to disrupt their way of life. Silas couldn't abide by that, and neither could the Bayleaf Cheiftain.

 

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Chrys has just zipped up her bag when he began asking his confused questions. She had expected this, he was on Earth after all. Hooking the bag around her shoulder again, she looked at him. She could tell, he was wary of her, just as she was of him. They were from two completely separate worlds. Him from the ground, and her from the sky. Thinking on his questions, she wanted to answer him in a way that would make sense to someone who knew nothing of the world above. While he had been taught on the ground, she was taught of both the craft she had been born and raised on, as well as the Earth that humans had destroyed.

Nervously, the girl wrung the straps of her pack back, the weight of it not doing much on her damaged body. At last, she finally spoke, "when Earth had died, or so we had thought had died, the rich were sent in a metal craft to live in space and keep the human population alive. Every... uhm, country, or land, had sent people to the sky to live free of disease or what the war may have caused. You aren't supposed to be here. As you may think, neither am I... But the craft I came from is dying, people will die. I chose to save me and my friend. But it is clear that our plan to live did not work..." She told him. Trying to keep her words simple enough that he would understand.

Looking around at the wreck, Chrys would understand his frustration. She had a big impact on the land he grew up on. Trees were smoking, grass was on fire, and if there were any animals there were none to be in sight. But, that confused her nonetheless. In her history classes, she saw images of the Earth when it had been at it's worst. Where it had once been blue and green, full of life, the images that were compared to it were just dull and brown. Nothing compared to how alive the Earth had looked before people left it. So how was it possible that these people, Silas, was alive? That is generations that have survived the rotten Earth.

Chrys and Poppy had taken the chance on leaving the Ark for a better life, one that didn't involve starvation or suffocation, to leave for a Earth they didn't know would even be livable. But here Silas was, more alive than most people on the Ark. "How did you survive the great war..." She finally asked, unblinking at the man before her. Maybe the Ark was, after all, a place for the rich to watch the poor fight to the death. Maybe it was a test to see if the weak could survive. Maybe they had actually thought that the Earth would be gone. After 97 years on the Ark, Chrys was the first one to discover that after all the history she had learnt, nothing was as it seems.

 

[NickNacks]

Her explanation only served to give him all the more questions. So they were one of the people who had fled? He hadn't heard much about those folk, only a few offhand remarks dismissing their cowardice. "We're meant to be here," Silas insisted, screwing the top back on his flash and slipping it back into his satchel. It didn't surprise him that the metal craft was starting to die out there-humans weren't supposed to be anywhere but on the ground. But, she had only just lost her friend, and Silas was far too socially aware to point out the shortcomings of the metal craft she was supposedly from.

Silas began walking, just a few steps, before pausing and motioning for Chrys nofollow him. There didn't seem to be much else he could do but to take her back to where the rest of his clan was. On her own, she couldn't be too much of a threat, even to their commander. "We're descended from those who survived the famines," Silas replied, though he had to take a short pause to sort out how to phrase the explanation. "The ones who didn't run. We've always been here." Silas stepped over a particularly large root sticking up from the ground. "We survived because we fought and did what was needed to do."

And indeed, the Earth where Chrys now found herself was startlingly different from the Earth which she had been taught about. Though it was every bit as dangerous as she could imagine, as Silas knew well-mutated animals, areas of the Earth said to kill anyone who got too close by making them sick or burning them with radiation, poison which still issued from the ground-it was also beautiful. Without humans chopping them all down, the trees grew tall and lush, with emerald moss coating the bark and the ground. Silas knew how to get back home from here, it was only that the trip would be long.

"You will have to come with me, back to my people." Silas explained. "That way, you'll be able to find food and keep away from some of the beasts here. Our commander will know what to do with you. Then, later.." He added, with a quick glance to Chrys, "We could return here and perform a proper rite for your friend." It was the least he could do, really. He had far more questions about who she was and where she came from, but now didn't seem to be the time or place for them.

 

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Chrys watched him start to walk away and frowned slightly until he motioned for her to follow. Slowly, she did begin to walk with him. It seemed as though he was degrading her people for leaving the Earth. And that bugged her. Sure, they probably could've survived along with the poor, but all the families sent to the sky were thinking about their futures... though with the air running out, maybe they wouldn't last that long.

Stepping over the root, she used the tree as a leverage so she didn't fall, "you've survived on a withered Earth for 97 years, and did what you needed to do to survive. Mine did that as well. Presidents, governers, the wealthy, they chose what they thought was right..." She explained though she was unsure if weather or not he would understand. She didn't much care now though. She left them so easily to die on the Ark. "I came here to survive though. Just as your people stayed and my people fled. I came here because I didn't want to die. And I hope you can promise that..." she told him.

The trek was rather though. Every step she took, her adrenaline began wearing off. She felt like she was walking on glass with how sore her body was. It wasn't until they had been walking hours though, that she began to feel faint, "Hey, Silas. I need a break..." She told him, moving to balance herself on a tree. Her side, though bandaged, was bleeding through the fabric that the healer had tied around her. "How far have you wandered from your clan?" She asked him, sitting down on a sturdy log.

Putting her hand over top of her wound, she found putting a little pressure on it relieved some of the pain, "You're a doctor, I'm guessing." She told him. She had thought about that as they walked. "You came to my friend in hopes to save her, and you knew what to do to handle my injuries." She stated. She had been guessing things about him, and hoped that he didn't get upset. "It's very noble, that you decided to heal me instead of kill me. I am after all, an intruder on your land." She said. Her body was swaying slightly. She was exhausted.

 

[NickNacks]

Most people in his clan could push through far more serious injuries in order to keep going-it was a manner of compartmentalizing pain in order to focus on whatever task was at hand. Silas had been forced to do it before, after conflicts or battles when he'd had to get to a safe spot before he'd be able to rest. It didn't really surprise him that Chrys didn't have that same training. It was clear that every step she took was an effort. They wouldn't be able to keep going for too much longer.

Silas shook his head, a faintly amused smile crossing his face. "You won't die here," he replied, with some degree of confidence. "It does not take long to learn how to live here. And my people and I learned all that a long time ago." Yes, they would ensure that Chrys didn't fall victim to the elements, even if that did mean keeping her at arms length until they were sure of her motives. Silas still wondered how, exactly, a ship was meant to run out of air, but held his tongue for the time being. Soon, Chrys admitted she could go no further, and Silas gave a short nod before taking a seat on the ground nearby.

"A few days worth. We will need fire," He said, giving the terrain a quick glance over. Again, there didn't seem to be any animals nearby, all frightened off by the radius of the blast. Thankfully, the smoke had stopped becoming visible from the trees, which meant that the fire from the wreck must have died out. Still, this spot was a good enough place as any in the woods. Silas was resigned to keeping watch while Chrys slept-between the two of them, he was definitely the most alert at the moment.

Still, as he stood up to snap a few branches from one of the nearby trees, he looked to Chrys with some puzzlement. "It is not noble," He replied with a shake of his head. "It's my responsibility to help. That is why I am a healer." His arms were soon full with branches, which he set down in the dirt before withdrawing a small dagger and rock piece from his satchel. Methodically, Silas began striking the blade against the stone. "And you are not very frightening. No offense meant," He added with a quiet chuckle. "You do not even hold your knife properly."

 

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Chrys put her hand to her forehead for a moment, running her fingers back through her hair. A frown touched her lips as he explained what he was meant to do. But her frown was replaced with a small smile as he mentioned how non threatening she was. She knew that. And she knew her fighting skills would be no match to someone who was trained from a young age. "I'm a mechanic. I uh, take things apart and put them back together... You do that with people, I do it with machines. My knife too though, I would have been executed if the Ark, my home, had found out I stole it." She told him, looking down at it. Only guards were allowed to have them. The same goes for the gun she had stashed in the bottom of her back pack.

Moving off of the log, to the ground closer to the fire, she crossed her sore legs. "There are a lot of laws that you have to abide by up their. Families could only have one child, any others the parents would be accused of treason. Theft is a crime punishable by death. There are many more. I broke every one to get here." She told him. Thinking back to the things she did and the people she manipulated to get to Earth make her heart ache. She left her parents who were just as brainwashed as everyone on the Ark, making a guard her lover to get the supplies she needed to leave.

Looking down at the fire, she wrung her hands together, picking at her nails she let herself finally think about the events of the day. Just hours ago her friend was alive. They were praying for a safe trip. She held her hand. She wouldn't cry though. She wouldn't let herself cry.

Looking back up, she looked at the man across from her, through the glow of the fire. What does it take to survive this world?" She asked him quietly, her tone at first clogged with emotion, but eventually going back to what it had been. She wanted to know what it would take to survive, if after all, she needed to get away from his clan. She was an outsider, and she couldn't put herself in that danger. "What are the species here besides you and your people?" She asked, grabbing her backpack and changing into a different jacket so she could use her damaged one as a pillow for sleep.

Carefully, the girl moved to lay on her uninjured side. She knew in the morning that she would feel worse than she did at that moment, but at least she would have the rest she needed to travel as far with him as she could. If it took two days to get there, she needed as much energy as she could get. With her hands under the old jacket, she was actually sort of comfy. Even though it hurt to breath, she knew she could fall asleep soon. She just needed his answer.

 

[NickNacks]

At last, a few sparks began to rain down into the tinder Silas had arranged. Carefully, he crouched down in order to blow onto the still-glowing ember. The light began to shine brighter, a thin stream of smoke issuing upwards as the spark bloomed into a flame. In little time, the fire was crackling away, though still small enough to be kept under control. Mechanic...He had never heard of the word before, but the description of the profession sounded a little familiar. "We all those blacksmiths here. They craft weapons and armor. Things like that. But why would they not want you to arm yourself?" Silas's gaze leveled on Chrys. "What were you expected to do if you were attacked?" In his cutlture, self defense was vital to survival.

But the rules didn't stop there, as Chrys continued to speak, and Silas was dumbfounded by how ridiculous they all seemed. Restriction on children? In his clan, children were precious things-any child born free of illness or mutation were incredibly valued-after all, it was the future of their culture. In his opinion, it was a good thing she had left if things were truly that restrictive, but Silas hadn't experienced the situation for himself. He didn't want to pretend to understand. "We do what we must," he replied quietly, his gaze focusing back on the flames licking at the branches and kindling the dry moss.

Her next question, though a short one, required a complicated answer, and for a moment, Silas took a few seconds to think. "This would depend on who you ask," he replied with a small smile. "Many would say strength and no mercy. Sometimes it does seem that way. It isn't...Perfect here, by any means."

"But I do not always think in...Well, in such a way. I like to think that the way to live here is the same way one would live anywhere. Even in a metal home in space." He added with a quiet chuckle. "I think there is strength in dignity. To fight is important, but to be kind is just as essential. Some people in my clan would certainly duel me for saying things like this." He felt he hadn't explained himself very well, probably because of his lack of language practice, but he hoped the point was made. As for the species-well, that was something he knew all about. "Lots of things here-many birds and deer. Bears, sometimes. And, where I come from, there is something else."

A small grin crossed Silas's face as he reached up to place a hand around a necklace, the pendant of which rested on his chest. It appeared to be a large fang. "I don't know if there is an English word for it, but there is a scaled animal in the marshes where I live. Each year, when a person turns seventeen, they are sent to kill one of these monsters and bring the corpse back to the rest of the clan. This is what makes them adults."

 

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Chrys thought about his answers, thinking of what she should say in her sleepy state "well, I think that you can call me a complex blacksmith then" She tried to joke, but in her state it definitely came out more tired. "And as for the scaly animal, I don't know much about the sea life of earth. I learnt about the things that would simply die... Like bears, and deer." She said, deciding she would be more comfortable bringing her legs up closer to her stomach despite how much it hurt to do so. The position was comfortable at least.

As he explained the adulthood ritual to her, she began dozing off. The Ark didn't have anything like that. She grew up working hard, and that continues into adulthood. The only difference being is that people are assigned jobs. That was why she was a mechanic. She was good at building, so she built.

The next thing she remembered was waking up at dawn. In her dreams, she was on the Ark; talking about her plan with Poppy. Things went bad, worse than they had the day before, they were caught and Floated. In her dreams, her and Poppy had died together. With the emotions hitting her, she felt breathless. Or maybe that was because of her sore body, but either way she needed to sit up. Catch her breath.

Putting her hand to her heart, she looked around. She was still in the wood, and the early morning sun was lighting up the spaces that were between the leaves and branches of the trees. Where the fire had been were just ashes and little glowing embers. Then she remembered Silas. Turning her gaze around, she felt her heart drop to her stomach when she didn't see him.

Maybe, just maybe, he had decided she wasn't worth his time and disappeared in the night. Going through her backpack, she found the water bottle she had filled before they had left the Ark, and took a long, but slow drink. She didn't know when they would come to water next, and she didn't want to risk drinking from ponds, rivers, or streams that she didn't know would be contaminated. Silas knew though. She she prayed he was just off, getting food or something, and that she wasn't alone officially.

 

[NickNacks]

Her presumption was correct-the best time to hunt for food was in the few hours just before the sun rose, and Silas had left accordingly. The forest seemed almost surreal this time of morning, with an inky blueness just faintly illuminating the ground in front of him. He moved slow and careful, one foot in front of the other to avoid snapping twigs or rustling foliage that might alert others to his presence. He'd spotted a doe-unmutated-and that was a rare prize, one he was determined not to lose.

Silas had never been remarkably skilled with a bow and arrow, but knew enough to use one. He'd brought it slung across his back, knowing his trip to gather supplies would take at least a few days before he returned back home. Now, he nocked an arrow agains the string, crouched, and waited.

The doe's ear twitched, and he held his breath. Then, peacefully, the animal bowed her head to graze. He would need to be careful-deer had hearing a hundred times better than his own. Even the soft grown of the string being pulled back might be enough to alert her. Slowly, his breath gathering in small clouds, Silas pulled the string back.

His forearm tense, his thighs already going numb with how long he had been in this position. After a few seconds, the doe lifted her head again, and he let the arrow fly. To his luck, it struck home right in her neck, and she toppled onto her side with a tragic bleat. Grinning in triumph, Silas stood and made his way over.

His palm stroked the animal's fur, and he offered a few murmured words of thanks before slitting the creature's throat with his knife. To allow the animal to suffer more would be disrespectful, and he would rather her agony be short rather than prolonged. With some strain, he hoisted the deer up across his back and carried it back to the small camp.

To his surprise, Chrys was awake already. After her shock and exertion, he'd thought she'd sleep at least a few more hours. He gave a small nod of greeting before setting the carcass down, kneeling beside it and beginning to gut the deer. "Get that started again, please," Silas added with a nod to the still glowing campfire. The sky was blooming a brilliant shade of pink towards the horizon, signaling that dawn had arrived. "This will be enough to last us the trip back, if we are able to carry it."

 

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Chrys was just about to stand and prepare for her own trek when he wandered back, a doe in tow. Relief washed over her, and it was almost like a weight was just taken off of her shoulders. But, he didn't say much to her as he began to prepare the deer. That is, until he told her to start the fire again. Sitting back down, she looked dumbfounded but remembered she had brought a family heirloom. A working old zippo lighter. It was very low on fluid, but maybe she could make it work. Arranging the left over wood from the night before, she placed some kindling neatly around the wood, and grabbed the lighter.

Growing up on the Ark, she didn't learn many skills. they learnt how to work. The basics. But when it came to survival... they didn't need it on a big metal block. Starting with the lighter, she flicked it a few times, only getting a few sparks until she eventually got a very small flame. Quickly, she lit the fire before the gas ran out, and gently blew on it to make it bigger. Soon enough, the fire was burning bright and she was actually quite proud of herself.

"I didn't learn these skills. Fire was prohibited. There were no animals. You have a lot more knowledge on survival than I do." She admitted to Silas. "I work with metal. Make things work again. But this is so different..." She trailed off, feeling sort of bad. She might be completely useless to him. She didn't know how to contribute besides her cheats, such as the lighter.

But, she again stood and moved to get some more wood. If he was going to cook a deer, they would need more fire. Wandering off, she used the serrated end of her knife to cut some bigger sticks, kindling, anything they would need to keep the fire going. Once she had a good arm full of supplies, she made her way back to their camp site, not getting lost solely because of the smoke from the fire.

"I hope this helps some." She told him, piling it neatly beside the fire. The sun was beginning to rise some more, but she took a seat. The air was still cold from the morning and the put her hands close to the flame to warm herself up. She wished she could ask him about all the new species in the world. Things had to have adapted and change, from the pollution and nuclear air. But how did he look so... normal? But she couldn't... He would have only known about his world currently. The deer he brought back even looked more different than the photos from the text books she had read as a kid.

"I wish I could show you photos." She told him, but remembered that he wouldn't know what that was... "uh, I mean drawings..." She corrected herself, "we had these things that showed us what the world looked like before the wars killed it. Even now, the trees look taller, that deer looks like a deer but also doesn't" She rambled. Trying to not make the world sound so quiet around them.

 

[NickNacks]

The metal object Chrys withdrew caught his attention, and he paused from his actions in order to watch what she was doing. His eyes widened when a flame, already made, blossomed out of the metal. "How is that possible? What is that?" He inquired, narrowing his eyes in interest. Maybe if she had a second, he could ask to borrow one...But he doubted he would be that lucky. Still, it got the flame going in record time, and he hoped it would be able to be used more than one time. Amused, Silas bent back down over the carcass, continuing to skin the doe. He would have to decide if he would keep the pelt or not.

"Of survival, yes. Maybe." Silas replied. "But you know other things, I'm sure, that I don't. Your English is better, for one thing." He added with a quiet chuckle. With a bit of meat carved from the animal, Silas approached the fire and set the meat down on a rock, where it began to sizzle and fry. It was a bit more of an elaborate way to cook deer, but it was Silas's favorite. "Besides, you will learn fast. You'll have to," He added with a small shrug.

They wouldn't need the extra kindling-after eating, they would leave again. But it was a nice effort, and Silas was too polite to tell her so. He only smiled gratefully when she set them all down. "Besides, metal working is important where I come from. You will find things to do, if you decide to live with us."

Silas carefully poked at the cooking meat with his knife. It would take a short while for it to cook all the way. "Do you draw?" Silas asked in mild curiosity, mostly trying to create small talk. "I never was able to. Other people drew these for me," He explained with a small nod to some of the tattoos on his arm, marked in black ink. As for her confusion about the animals, it made sense to him. Radiation had tainted and changed many things. No Grounders remained who had been alive during the time before the war, but a few things were still passed down in stories and such.

"The radiation changed many things. I was lucky to find a deer who was not sick," Silas explained, adding another slap of meat to the fire." Some children, too, are born deformed. They are often killed, rather than being left alone to die from a long and painful life of illness."

 

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Chrys smiled at Silas' curiosity "It's a lighter. It causes a spark, and with gas with it, it formed a fire. And thanks to a little string, or something, it stays lit until I close the lid." She demonstrated by flicking it open and closed. She didn't know how many fires she could build with it though, it was old and running out of gas. Putting it back into her backpack. The girl stayed silent though, until he mentioned drawing.

Biting her lip, she shrugged, "only a little. Sketches and such." she explained and listened as he told her about his tattoos "they're beautiful though. Very delicate work. Did it hurt?" she wondered. No one on the Ark had tattoo's. Everyone was pretty simple. No piercings, no tattoos. Sometimes women would use henna ink to dye their hair but other than that, everyone was plain. She would like one though. They seemed cool and showed individuality.

When he explained though, what happened to children born with deformities, she frowned. It reminded her of what happened to second born children on the Ark. "That's very sad..." she said, "If a family were to have more than one child, the children would be floated. Killed because we couldn't waste resources. We had no clue whether or not the Earth would ever be habitable, so we had to ration. Both air, supplies. Food. All of the food is gross. Powder mixed with water." She shivered at the food she grew up with.

"I'm glad though. That humans survived here. If we came back down earlier, I feel that we could have survived. But the leaders were too scared to bring us home. They were actually planning to send the underage criminals here. On a different craft. To tell the people up there if Earth was safe again. But of course, who knows when they will do that..." she trailed off "lots of people could die because they're selfish." She watched as the meat was close to being done cooked. "how much can we carry?" She finally asked, her knees now pulled to her chest. The pain in her side was still there, but more faint than it had been the day before.