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Post by smartblondie on Aug 31, 2014 13:54:48 GMT -10
Miles didn't know if he was necessarily glad that Con had been injured, exactly, but he was glad to have the chance to show off his skills and take his mind off of his panic. Perhaps there was a bit of relief in knowing that even an Underworlder could be hurt. He wasn't a complete monster. He was, actually, quite harmless as they worked on him, likely a bit woozy from blood loss or just shock. Still, he seemed to compose himself as they were finishing up the bandage. Which...well, he wasn't sure if that was fortunate. Should they have run while he was incapacitated? Maybe...but that seemed, well, it would have been unprincipled, really. And it would defy all of his training. So. He'd have to be content with their choices. Like it or not, they were still stuck with him.
Miles pinched his gloves between his fingers distastefully, not sure what to do with them. He'd made the comment about the rain in passing, but was startled when Con was suddenly screaming. He flinched in surprise, and Nona, who'd just approached, jumped half a foot in the air at his voice, her laughter fading quickly. "What is it?!" she asked nervously, tugging at the ends of her hair anxiously. She did that when she was really nervous, Miles had noticed. And she was often really nervous, at least as far as he had seen, though, in this situation, that was fair enough.
--
Nona listened with a slightly tilted head and Con and Isabelle had a bizarre conversation. He didn't..know what rain was? But...she frowned, and she realized she actually felt kind of...sad for him. It never rained, or snowed, or anything down there, did it? All her life, meanwhile, she'd just sort of taken it for granted. Sure, when she was little she'd loved playing in the snow, and stomping in puddles (to her mother's distress), but she'd outgrown that years ago.
Con, apparently fed up with Isabelle's mildly annoyed explanations, ran out through the door frame to see for himself. "Its really coming down, he's going to get soaked." Nona said softly, a little smile tugging at her lips. She followed in his footsteps, though she halted at the door, not leaving the shelter. Sure enough, he was already drenched, the rain was absolutely pouring. And yet...she couldn't help but giggle at his face. He looked like a little boy. He ran about, splashing and shouting and grinning, and Nona was grinning too. There was something...really different about him in that moment. Unlike the Con that had marched them across the country, and even unlike the Con who she had met in her backyard and tasted pizza and gotten what may have been his first bath.
"What an idiot." a voice behind her made her jump in surprise, but it was just Miles. He too was watching Con prance about, but he didn't seem so endeared by it. "It isn't that exciting, really." he said snootily. Nona looked up at him for a few moments, and then back out into the rain. She should probably agree with the other two, the Upperworlders, the people that were more trustworthy and familiar and safe. But...she wanted to feel like he looked. She wanted to be giddy and laugh without worrying about priorities or manners. So, after watching Con a bit more, she took a tentative step forward. "Nona?" Miles' voice was soft and confused, but she didn't turn back, rather, she kept forward. The rain was cold, and it soaked through her pajamas quickly, but she didn't care, for once. It felt sort of liberating. She laughed, a real laugh, with a sort of awe, and held her arms out, staring up at the sky. Raindrops fell on her face and she squinted to keep them out of her eyes.
"Puddles, those are puddles!" Nona called in response to Con, but he didn't seem to be referring to the pools of water that he was splashing about. She wasn't sure what he wanted to know, but she let her arms swing back down, hanging beside her. Hm. What was it? "Rain..." she said simply, smiling guiltily at this useless answer. "Haven't you heard of the water cycle?" she asked jokingly, wiping water from her eyes with little success. Her hair clung to her face and neck, droplets of water tickling her.
--
Miles was speechless for a bit, but it didn't take him long to find his words again. He hadn't expected Nona to run out there like a little girl. He expected immaturity from someone like Con, but Nona was supposed to be a lady. "They're both idiots." he stated mildly, shaking his head like a scolding parent. "And they're going to get sick. Or infected. Or both. Idiots." he pinched the bridge of his nose, now irritated. "What the hell are you two doing, exactly?" he finally called, his voice pitched to reach them without shouting like Con had. "Get inside, or you'll both freeze." he warned rudely.
--several days later--
"We're going to be out of food soon, we ought to stop somewhere near a store again." Miles adjusted his pack on his back as he spoke, and Nona tried to remember what food they had left. After that night in the rain, they'd all slept in the shed, and when they woke up, it was back to walking. In near silence, the divide somewhat returned. The next day, they talked more, and then more, and so on, until today, when she didn't feel so scared or angry at Con. They were companions, now, not strangers, and she actually found that he wasn't so bad. She was too shy to admit to him, but she actually thought he was kind of funny. They finally (thankfully) found a close enough trust to allow one of the Upperworlders (Often Miles or Isabelle, since Con didn't seem to have entirely forgotten why those two were here to start with) to go fetch food, drinks, and clothes. The older two weren't yet registered as missing, since no one would guess they were kidnapped by an Underworlder, and apparently they both went on enough overnight retreats to keep their parents from finding any issue with them not being home. (A fact that both of them had grumbled about quite a bit). Nona glanced down at herself, grateful for real clothes and real shoes. Their silly party in the rain had ruined the bandages on her feet and made her pajamas freezing, but now she was comfortable and fully dressed, and she even had some nice athletic shoes that Isabelle had found for her. She'd never worn such heavy-duty shoes before, unless you counted rain boots. She also had a knapsack now, full of some clothing changes and snacks and a big water bottle.
"The last sign we saw said we were like, 10 miles from Belfont. That's where we're headed. Maybe we could make it through tonight with what we have, and then after Con gets back down, we can go to my brother. He'll help us get home, too." she suggested, scanning for barns or sheds. They were still in farmland, which made up a large portion of the land around here. Nothing really. "We should stop when we see a barn or something, and then finish up tomorrow morning. It's getting dark, anyway." she said, hoping they'd agree. Fortunately, they all seemed to think this was a good enough plan.
"Your brother's a doctor, right, Nona? Does he like it?" Miles asked after a bit more walking, his pinched, snooty tone milder than it had been when they'd first met. Nona nodded, her cheeks glowing with a sort of pride. "Yeah, he is. He loves it, I think. I mean, he was born for it, but I think it's more than just that. I think he'd want to do that even without it being predetermined. He loves science." her voice was full of loving pride, and she smiled. Miles seemed to consider this for awhile, apparently impressed or satiated. "I'm not one for that kind of thing, really. Science, that is. Maybe I just want to be different from him, though." she joked, rubbing her neck embarrassedly.
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Post by elise13 on Sept 8, 2014 17:23:00 GMT -10
The water falling from the sky was different than the water Nona submerged him in the other day. It was not so warm. Though it was not quite cold either. Just a strange sort of in-between temperature. He liked the strange sensation. Though Con did not so much enjoy the strange heaviness his clothes came to possess. It was worth than the weight of the ‘bathwater.’ And he had been clothed then too. Still, he loved the strange gatherings of water and the way it gathered up on leaves and then fell to the ground only moments later in a strangely large glob of water.
Con stuck his tongue out experimentally. The water tasted normal, yet somehow totally different. Perhaps because it was only a drop rather than a cup of water. Or maybe it gained a special quality from falling from the ceiling. Perhaps the pipes up there carried different water.
Surprisingly, Nona joined him outside. From the way they had all huddled in their shelter, Con had been rather confident he would be the only one to enjoy this experience. Perhaps they had all already done it before and didn’t want to do so again without dry clothes. Or perhaps the robots shorted out when water fell from the ceiling. Though Con felt he ought to chastise himself for really thinking them robotics, as in the legendary beings made of metal that for some reason could not abide by water. After all, Nona insisted that baths were quite popular and their skin was soft, not as hard at a house or a metal ought to be. Thus, he had to conclude that they were at least not the type of robots that water ruined.
Nona seemed in awe of the rain too. She was laughing and grinning. Nona seemed much happier than he had ever seen her. Granted, most of the time he was around she was probably a bit nervous or in danger. None of that was his fault, of course! That was because Upperworlders were dumb and shot at Undergrounders for no real reason at all. Con laughed too, for it seemed rather contagious. Maybe the ceiling water made people act strangely. Or perhaps it was what made the Upperworlders happy. It was their happy juice. And that was why the others stayed inside, for they would rather be cranky than get their dose of happiness was they were supposed to. Although, none of the other Upperworlders appeared to be running out of doors, so perhaps that was not really the purpose of the sky-water.
Nona, after laughing, was trying to expand his vocabulary. She explained the groups of water on the ground as puddles. “Puddles!” Con shrieked as the careened through another puddle. He ended up barreling in Nona’s direction, stopping himself short of clobbering her. He patted her arm, in a gesture of comradery over their shared experience in the ‘rain,’ “This’s great!”
Con pointed to the ceiling, to ask if the water cycle was the name of the pipe when Miles interrupted him. He was demanding for them to go inside. Con sighed, but he was getting cold now. As he walked inside, he stripped off his upper layer of clothing, as much as modesty dictated he could get away with. He did not the like the clinginess of the fabric now that it was dripping. Even as he walked inside the rain seemed to follow him as it continued to drip wherever he went. Meanwhile, Isabelle was running a commentary about something about ‘scientific facts’ that proved that ‘bacteria’ were no more something or other because of the rain. She appeared to be trying to correct Miles, but Con could not make himself care about it. Instead, he just plopped himself down in a corner and decided to catch up on his much-needed sleep. Now that no one was in danger and no one would probably run off with the ceiling broken like that. Much too messy for the snobbish of the Upperworlders.
---
After that, things seemed to get easier. Con still carried his bat, if only out of habit. He had not even thought of wielding it since the night he stood up to the horrifying creatures in the woods. It almost felt wrong to threaten the Upperworlders with something used against a creature so dangerous.
The group was able to split up easily and fetch food from the towns. It made travelling considerably easier. After all being fed made everything a little bit easier. The Upperworlders certainly had a wide variety of food. Hardly any of it was based on potatoes. Actually, he had had no potato-related food since he had gone to the Upperworld. When he asked about it, Isabelle laughed at him, saying that all decent potato dishes were not good for travel. That set him back a bit. Potato bread kept and travelled very well. When he brought this up, all of them had seemed rather taken aback. Instead of trying to find more foods like home, Con took the opportunity to savor new tastes. It was strange. Every meal was filled with excitement, even if it was just the leftovers from the previous day. The Upperworlders were not quite as thrilled, but that could hardly quell Con’s eagerness.
As it was, they were discussing the details of the travel plans. Con did not quite understand their units of measurements. Though he had figured out that a mile was not exactly a short experience. Usually everything in the Underground was described in terms of real things. Like blocks or buildings. But generally everything was described in the number of lights that you would pass while walking. They were always a constant distance, for someone must have arranged it that way. So they were the simplest, common unit of measurement. Still, he was trying to figure out how many bulbs were in a mile. At least fifteen, but he really had no actual idea.
Con prompted, “If we’ve got enough to get us there, you can just get food once we’re done. Less to carry on the last bit then.” Isabelle agreed, for she seemed to have a decent inventory of what they were carrying, “We certainly have enough for at least two meals. We have enough for three if we are careful. That should be a sufficient amount of food to last us the rest of the journey, given our current calorie intakes in connection to the amount of travel and rest each day.” Con said, “Good,” hoping to cut her off before she started crossing over her own words and doubting herself, as was her general pattern.
Soon, the Upperworlders got distracted on their own topic of conversation. This happened quite regularly. Mostly Con listened, for some Upperworld customs and words still confused him. The group seemed so stiff, even as they casually discussed this matter, it seemed so formal.
Isabelle nodded, “I cannot imagine wanting to be something other than a doctor myself. After all, it is a respectable career. I am eager to meet your brother. What field does he work in again?” She added, as an afterthought it seemed, “What is your selected career path, Nona? Has your university been selected as well?”
It all seemed to strange. Like they were putting on a production and making sure to say all their words. Not that Con’s speech pattern was exactly typical of Undergrounders, but their speech was hardly formal. It was casual. And not so monotone. It was often pierced with shouts and whispers as well as flailing arm gestures and occasionally grabbing a friend by the shoulders to rope them in as part of the story. That was all very standard. Yet the Upperworlders seemed to do none of that. Con was almost lonely for his pile of friends back in their dwelling. He missed the whispers and laughs in the middle of the night and the way everyone was close, even when they were just sitting. There was no polite distance. There was just friends.
Con, since he was not really talking, was watching the way. He pointed, “There’s one.” Con itched his arm, which was pink. Their light seemed to have a negative effect on his skin. Today was the first real day their light had not been blocked by what they called clouds. Con asked, “Pink skin normal?” He offered his arm to Isabelle and Miles, who seemed to be experts on all things to do with the human body. They had patched up his shoulder quite nicely after all. Isabelle turned to look at his skin, then she looked at her own arm, which was also slightly pink. Her eyes widened, trying to puzzle out the strange sensation. Isabelle looked at Miles, her brows drawn together, “It can’t be from dehydration, we’ve been drinking an appropriate amount of water. So this must be sunburn then? I have never seen it in person really. Only…certain people spend a lot of time in the sun. This is strange. Look, Miles! You have it too. And you, Nona! How peculiar. Perhaps we should seek some aloe plants. I read about them last year in a book about early medicine. And surely I could recall what they looked like. Do they grow in a sunny environment or a shady one? Wet or dry? If only I could look it up, this would be easier.”
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Post by smartblondie on Sept 26, 2014 15:00:38 GMT -10
Nona nodded along with the decision to stick it out until they reached their destination to get food, absently kicking along a stone she'd noticed a while back. Isabelle started to get herself going on one of her long rants about who knew what when Con interrupted her quickly, ending that conversation quickly. He'd learned quickly, as had Nona, that letting either of the others get too into something meant taking all the fun out of anything. They made every subject scientific and snickered over jokes that didn't seem very funny to Nona. Then again, sometimes it was nice to have their meaningless chatter fill the silence of several hours. Admittedly, Nona found that she quite enjoyed these walks through the countryside after the fear and pain in her feet curbed, but several miles of corn fields was probably something she never needed to see again.
Nona blew at a loose piece of hair that tickled her nose as Isabelle inquired about her brother. She and Miles both did indeed seem quite intent on their paths. Admirable. Scott was quite similar, though less vocal. He was always quite reserved. "Genetic modifications." she answered simply, having heard and answered the question millions upon millions of times. People just loved her brother and his medical promise and all that sciencey stuff. She looked up from the pebble she'd been kicking when Isabelle inquired about her and stumbled over it, nearly tripping. "M-me?" she stammered awkwardly, tucking the piece of hair behind her ear. "Oh, nothing so special. I do like astronomy, and history, I suppose, but University...I don't know about that. I know my parents would like me to help the company and establish business contacts with younger donors, so I may just...stay with that." she said nervously, her nose wrinkling.
Con interrupted them, then, with his notice of a safe place to stay. He was soon distracted by his pinkened skin, and the others' as well. Isabelle started to analyze this, finally deciding on sunburn, and Miles rubbed his chin sagely. "Fascinating. I didn't really understand how sensitive our skin was until now. Sort of makes a difference when you live it, yes?" he remarked, seeming impressed for once. Nona frowned down at her own arms, and delicately poked at her cheeks. They felt hot, and stung. "My mother will be so disappointed. She doesn't think tanned skin is very attractive, let alone burned." she said, her mouth twisting into a perturbed frown.
Isabelle had gone on talking about sunburn, and Miles shrugged tiredly. "Let's get to the cabin first, then try and help this. Who knows, maybe they have a library or database in there." he said sarcastically, tugging on the hat he'd found that had spared his nose and cheeks from the sun. They agreed to trudge on and try and find what Miles declared to be "alow" as a next step. At the very least, Scott might be able to use something in his lab to help her and the other two upperworlders. Con...probably couldn't make a pit-stop at the lab before going home. Hm. They'd be parting soon. How odd. She supposed she was a little grateful for the story to tell. She loved telling day-care kids fairy-tales when she volunteered, and now she had a fantastical story of her own to tell. They were almost there.
Approaching the seemingly empty shack, Nona cast a wondering look at the big house it belonged to. "It's...locked." Miles observed with some surprise. It was fairly odd to find locked buildings around here. "Huh. Shall we try a window or would Con like to simply smash the door down?" he asked, sniggering as if this was a great joke. Nona wasn't sure she got it. As they circled the building, Nona paused, sure she'd heard something. Nothing behind her. Hm. Maybe it was just the others? But it sounded sort of muted. "What do you suppose is in there, anyway?" she asked timidly, straining to see through the thick curtains that covered the windows.
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Post by elise13 on Jan 10, 2015 17:00:10 GMT -10
Apparently pink skin was rather normal, for nobody started to cry. From what Conrad could gather, the pink skin came from their light, which they called the sun. He was perplexed as to why anyone would create a light that burns. That seemed rather foolish to him. Why would anyone design something that would only hurt them in the future? Maybe the Upperworlders were not as clever as they liked to believe they were. Though Con already knew that, he just felt that this little note supported his point quite nicely.
Con muttered, “Stupid to make a light that hurts you. Thought Upperworlders were supposed to be smart.” He certainly did not like the pink tinge to his skin. It was slightly tender, so maybe he would be glad to get back home away from the harmful light that moved. Maybe the Upperworld made their lights first, so when they kicked the Downworlders out, the Downworlders knew how to make better and more practical lights. Still, the Upperworlders, even the academic ones seemed rather confused about the effects of the lights. Nona was especially upset about her skin being “burnt.” That was unusual. She did not appear to be aflame. Maybe she was exaggerating. Or maybe that was how she was describing the discomfort from her pink skin. Though, Con had to admit, that his skin was the reddest of the four of them. Maybe because his skin was not used to their lights at all. Isabelle and Miles were babbling about their skin and the related problems.
Con yawned, his method of agreeing with their plan to find a place to sleep. He would not mind stopping walking. And then everyone could figure out how to feel about their pink skin. Con licked his thumb, then rubbed it against his arm, He had kind of been suspicious that it was just strangely colored dirt, but the pink would not come off his skin. Strange. It was as if his skin had change.
They quickly arrived at the building Con had pointed out previously. The building was situated alongside a larger one. Miles quickly took the opportunity to make fun of Con. Although, his method of teasing was not particularly clever. Since Con was hardly qualified to knock down a door, after all, he was not a very large person. Many of the Upperworlders he had seen (though that was not a very large number) were bigger than him. Maybe their light made them grow and turn pink. Con rolled his eyes at Miles, “Or I could just open it.” He jiggled the knob, though the door remained locked. Well, he was not sure he trusted the Upperworlders’ competencies. Con fished through his pockets, hoping he had something resembling lock picking wires. He was never really particularly interested in picking locks; he was more of a pickpocket than a lockpick. Still, Jess had taught him how. Less fortunately, he did not have proper wires upon him. So that meant no getting in through the door. And the others were standing around, looking pretty helpless. Isabelle was chattering, mostly to herself it seemed, about You-Me ray dating or something. So no one else was looking for a way in. Con sighed, it seemed he had to do everything himself, weak shoulder and all. He circled to the side of the building, trying the first window he spotted. Though he suddenly had the uncomfortable sensation of being watched. Though he figured that was from one of the Upperworlders staring at him while he actually did something instead of talking about what he could do. Although, maybe that was just Isabelle.
Con found a window and pushed on it, it was locked as well. But opening a lock on a window was something he could do without wires.
With a bit of jiggling, Con managed to slide the window upwards. He heaved himself onto the sill and semi-haphazardly through the window. Con coughed, leaning up towards the window, “Gettin’ the door.” He walked across the room, barely avoiding knocking himself out after tripping on some unseen obstacle in the dark room. This was why he was not good at picking locks, he was not good at sneaking around houses. He was much better at slipping through crowds and finding pocket treasures.
Opening the door, Con smirked, “Comin’?”
---
After they had settled themselves, they found they lacked a library or means to gather information. The shack they found themselves in was “low-tech” apparently, so they were left with no means to treat their pink skin, which was unfortunate. Con’s skin was now itchy and sore. He was not sure he appreciated the light for this. Why would their light need to be so bright that it was harmful? Con preferred the rows of lights of his home.
As the was meditating on the light, he sauntered over to the window he had made his door in order to check that it was closed properly. And to look at the light turning off, which he had not managed to see yet because of their weird rain and cloud situation the others complained of. But perhaps they should have been grateful about it since the light apparently hurt their skin.
When he looked out, he saw something strange. The light really had moved! And changed colors. Con screamed, “Light’s fallin’!!!” He threw the window closed, desperately hurrying to help the others. To protect them from the myriad of possible problems the falling light could create. “Get under somethin’!” Con grabbed Nona, yanking her under a table after him. Lights rarely fell Underground, but they had a great potential to be dangerous and harmful if precautions weren’t taken. They occasionally started fires too, so they might have to watch out for that. Not to mention that this light was HUGE. It could cause serious damage falling down. Eyes squeezed shut, Conrad was a bit confused about why they had not felt the impact yet. Strange. Surely, no matter how far away it was, they would have felt the impact.
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Post by smartblondie on Sept 19, 2015 10:48:54 GMT -10
The three Upperworlders stood together as Con messed with the window, managing to slip inside through it. Nona was fairly impressed, but the other two seemed uninterested in his actions, choosing to compare knowledge of sunburn and remedies for it. Those two did that a lot, got wrapped up in sciencey stuff and looking over Nona and Con. She got the feeling that they looked down on them a little, because they weren't intellectuals too. She may not be as brilliant as them, but she wasn't an idiot. She knew some things. But it had led to her hearing a lot of stories from Con about his home, which all sounded equally terrifying and adventurous. He lived a wild life, it would seem.
Nona and the others jumped at a loud crashing sound coming from inside the shed, and shortly after the door swung open. Con was smirking, but Miles laughed derisively. "Not the most graceful one, are you?" he taunted as he strode inside the shed, finding refuge in the shady building.
-
After a while, the group was comfortably settled in the shed. Miles was sorting through their left-over food and dividing it for their dinner, while Isabelle had combed through the shed looking for anything useful. No luck, it seemed. Nona had been fussing over her skin, testing how sensitive it was. It was definitely sore. She kept her cold hands on the burnt parts of her arms and face, to offer small relief. She was always cold like this, especially her hands, so it was nice to put that to good use for once. Usually it was just bothersome, because she had to wrap herself in a ton of blankets. When they were young, Scott would play around with her by wrapping her into a cocoon so big she had to roll around to move. But one day she'd accidentally knocked a vase over in her goofy stumbling and broken it, so they weren't allowed to play that game anymore. Her mother had actually asked her if that was really appropriate for a girl her age to be doing, but Nona hadn't really understood. Scott was older than her and he wasn't scolded as much. Though, after that day, they didn't play together as much.
Nona jumped when Con suddenly yelled, though she should've been used to his voice rising so frequently. He yelled at least once a day. He and Isabelle had once gotten into an argument over whether it was appropriate and he'd proven his point by yelling all of his arguments. The next day his voice was hoarse, which made Isabelle smile smugly to herself all day. What did startle Nona was the force suddenly slamming into her, yanking her down under a table. "Whaa!" she yelped in surprise, eyes wide.
Con had grabbed her, and now he lay with her under the table, as if shielding her from something. "Con, what are we hiding from?" she whispered, not sure if this was a real threat or not. They were so close that she could see the redness of his burnt face even clearer now, and she felt heat rush to her face for a new reason. "...can we get out now?" she asked pleadingly, antsy to get her space back.
--
Miles stopped what he was doing with the food when Con suddenly yelled and grabbed Nona. They were under the table now, and Miles was puzzled for a few moments. "Light? What light?" he asked, glancing around the shed. He couldn't see any bulbs, only the faint light from outside was coming in. He glanced out, smiling faintly at the sunset before a realization hit him. He guffawed, bursting into vaguely mocking laughter. "He...he's afraid of the sunset. Con, that's supposed to happen. I guess you wouldn't know." he wiped a faux tear from his eye as his laughter calmed down. Every time Con showed his ignorance about how the world worked, it tickled his fancy. For someone who acted so sure of himself and world-weary, he was a bit of a ditz sometimes.
"Con, your paranoia is showing." he said teasingly, stepping away from the window. "It's fi-" he was cut off by the door suddenly swinging open with force, slamming against him and knocking him aside. "Wha?!"
Three men in pure white uniforms stomped into the shed. "Wh-who?" Miles struggled to get to his feet as the men pushed past him. Con and Nona were just climbing up from under the table, and now they faced the men with faces of pure shock. "Eyes on the target. Ma'am, step away from this man." one of the white-garbed men approached them, while the other two raised guns at Con. Guns?! "Wh-whoa, hey, violence isn't necessary." Miles managed to speak, finally, shock jolting him into action. As one of the men tugged Nona away from Con, another turned towards Miles, gun still raised. "Sympathizers?" he said, and the other nodded slowly.
Miles glanced at Isabelle, mind racing. They had to run, they were going to get shot. He glanced at the window Con had used, and gave Isabelle a significant look. This was crazy, he shouldn't be defying his own protection, but they were overreacting and he couldn't accept murder.
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Post by elise13 on Nov 1, 2015 18:49:48 GMT -10
Con’s heart thumped towards his throat—the moment was coming. The only startling sound, however, was Miles’s laugh. He found their impending doom amusing? Well, he would be the first to go when that light broke. He was standing by the window after all. Still, the impact didn’t come, and even Nona seemed a bit confused about his attempt to protect her. Her face was even redder—probably with rage at him for yanking her around for no reason. Maybe their light was supposed to move towards the ground. Was it for dramatic effect? Why would anyone do something so useless and impractical? What a waste of effort. Upperworlders.
Conrad crouched, ducking his head as the got out from under the table. He was just offering a hand to Nona while Miles was patronizing him when the door flung open.
Suddenly the room was white clad men and gasps of breath. Con’s vision narrowed the dark holes facing him. Guns. He was done for now. They were going to shoot him and toss his body back down the nearest opening to the Underground. Or maybe they wouldn’t even have the decency to return him. They would just flay him alive and leave him as an example of how to punish Undergrounders for trespassing.
Con was torn between using Nona as a shield once again and covering her eyes before she saw him die. But a man grabbed her and began to pull her away. He had to do something. Con looked around, Miles was still near the window. And he was staring at Isabelle. Was he saying his last goodbyes? Why would they be about to get short? Because he’d kidnapped them? Well, now he was going to die with that on his conscience. No. Miles wasn’t saying goodbye. He was trying to get Isabelle out the window. Isabelle had just caught on—her face was pale and her knees were shaking. She inched forward, but none of the strange men seemed to notice, they were watching Miles and Con. They didn’t seem to even consider the fact that the women might put up a fight. Well, Con would make them regret that.
Con moved—quickly, but not quickly enough to get him shot in overhasty self-defense. The guns all returned to him and fingers neared triggers. He shouted, “No! I took everyone. By force. With a wooden club. Stole that from children.” Meanwhile, Isabelle was out the window and Miles on her tail. Okay that was two fewer people to worry about. That left Nona. The first guy still had his arms on her, but he seemed to be trying to usher her out of the building as well. Probably to get her away from Con. But that worked out all the better. Nona was at the door. Con continued, “So ah understand if you’ve got to shoot, but should know that—Jason no!!” Con turned around, putting his backs to the guards in hopes they would go after his imaginary accomplice and not Con. Two shots followed Con’s shout. Con flew at the door, bowling into Nona. He pushed her ahead, running for the tree line before the white monsters could figure out there was no one else in the shed or that Con was running the other way. He could make out Miles and Isabelle ahead of them; they were already under the cover of the trees.
They were nearly there.
They were going to make it.
Then the shouts started. They weren’t going to make it. Con stayed directly behind Nona. The least he could do was make sure she didn’t get shot too. The shots started next. Somehow the first shot missed them entirely, though Con saw dirt fling into the air. They reached the trees. Con yanked at a few loose tree arms in attempt to harry their pursuers. He leapt over a root. They dodged through the trees, changing directions quickly. Con had lost track of Isabelle and Miles. They needed to get out of sight. They had enough of a lead to do something now. Bang.
Con fell. The thudding feet neared. Con screamed and tears sprang from his eyes. He bite his lip, tasted blood, and pulled himself up with the nearest tree. Con tried to put weight on his leg and spots danced before his eyes. Bile rose in his throat, but he swallowed uncomfortably. He wheezed, “Help me over there.” He waved his arm to their left. The footsteps were getting closer, they only had a few moments to get under cover. And Con was getting dizzy. And the bile was considering its reappearance.
Just a short distance away was a tree with vines around it that just might provide them enough cover to trick the white men into chasing after fleeing forms instead of searching for hidden people.
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Post by smartblondie on Nov 6, 2015 12:44:19 GMT -10
Miles was at a loss for what the proper course of action was here. He wasn't an accomplice or a sympathizer! But violence was supposed to be wrong. They didn't hurt people here, it was a barbaric sort of thing. In any case, they had to get out of here before things got worse. The window was their only shot, but Isabelle was just staring at him for a bit. /Come on, you flat-chested fool/, he thought in frustration, but surely enough she caught on and began to creep slowly towards him. He helped her through the window as silently as possible, and glanced back at Con and Nona nervously. Should he help them? Well, Nona was being tugged back to the door, and Miles was struck by the curiosity of these men seeming to recognize her as someone relevant. Had her parents involved these men, he wondered? Still, no time to puzzle over it now, as Con's sudden shouting finally gave him the chance to make an escape of his own. He climbed through the window awkwardly, landing clumsily. He didn't waste time to adjust himself, though, just sprinted after Isabelle as quickly as possible.
As they ran, loud shouting came from the shed, and two loud bangs. "Oh my..." he gasped words out, trying to glance over his shoulder as he bounded toward the treeline. He thought he saw Con and Nona, crashing out of the building, but then he was in the thick of the trees. "We...phew...hide...can't...run..." he was panting now, barely able to have kept running this long. He hardly claimed to be athletic. "Hide for a bit and then we can...phew, then we can try and get to civilization." he continued, nodding towards some bushes. "We might be able...er, we can get away, now, you know." he pointed out, as Con was nowhere to be seen. "We did enough, Isabelle. We can go back." he repeated this idea, as if unsure about how he felt on it. Either way, they couldn't talk much, as they held their breaths in the thick foliage.
--
Nona wasn't sure what was happening, but she knew she was scared. She'd never been scared of people like this before. Still, as the leader tried to remove her from the room, her eyes were glued on Con's face, which for once showed genuine concern. This was no good. Suddenly he was shouting about someone named Jason, and before she could wonder who that was, he crashed into her, tearing her from the other man's grip.
"Waah!" she yelped in shock as he slammed her forward, towards the woods. She saw Isabelle and Miles, who must've escaped out the window, turning into small dots in the distance. She finally took the cue and began to ran, Con hot on her heels. Still, her breath was ragged already, and she struggled to keep up the speed, lest Con run her over completely. She nearly fell when the loud crack sounded, a gun shot. "Are we gonna...huff...die?!" she choked out, practically in a whisper as they charged into the trees.
Now, they wove through the woods awkwardly, trying to keep up the speed and also not trip and die. Nona's face was bright red and tears were pricking at her eyes as she tried not to panic. They would be fine, Con was a master of survival. She barely glanced back for a moment when Con suddenly let out a horrific scream and crashed to the ground. "Con!" she cried out, stalling her sprint to wheel around to face him. He was trying to stand, as the footsteps neared, and trying to get her to do something. Do something. For a second, it was like the world stopped, as they stared at each other. He couldn't run or fight. He was going to be caught, and she could go home. She was going to go home. She wasn't sure what he was thinking, if he was even thinking about that possibility at all. From his face, the pain was probably the biggest priority.
"C-c-come on." she finally stammered, closing the distance between them. He slung his arm around her and slumped against her, nearly making her stumble, but she forced herself to support him. She huffed and puffed as she guided them to where he'd indicated, first making sure he was invisible before sneaking in beside him. The spot was tiny and cramped, and she struggled to readjust them so that he had something to lean on. Something hot and wet was all over her arms and shirt, and she was afraid to even look.
Blood. "C-c-con?" she whispered, her breathing frantic. She didn't know what to do. The footsteps were loud now, probably in the area, and so she forced herself to hold her breath, eyes wide. Again, she realized that she could just call out now, or climb out and reveal herself. They weren't going to hurt her. But even if she left Con hidden, he needed help. And so, she stayed. She said a silent apology to her family and friends and the law, and held her breath.
After a few moments, the steps got quieter and quieter, until finally she felt safe to say something. Con was slumped against her, and she pushed him up a bit, trying to get him to sit up. "Con? Con, please, you have to tell me what to do." she whispered anxiously, her throat getting tight. She didn't know what to do now, she didn't know how to help him. "Please, Con, get up, I don't know what to do." she pleaded now, tears streaming from her eyes in a mix of fear and frustration.
She had to get him to her brother, somehow. He was the only person in the world, she knew, who might fix him. Even that was risky. But he was bleeding so much and she had no chance of carrying him if he wasn't conscious.
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Post by elise13 on Nov 15, 2015 8:53:13 GMT -10
Once out the window, things had not gotten easier. Isabelle found herself sweating within seconds, an unpleasant sensation at best. They were also running helter-skelter towards the tree line. Meanwhile, behind them, there was commotion and gunfire. But they were already under the safety of the trees by then. Isabelle had never thought that she would consider trees safe, but here she was, nearly kissing a tree as they dodge through the woods.
Isabelle nodded at Miles as they ran. There was no way they could hope to outrun the men, but hide in the forest as the light changed from dusk to night? That they could handle. She clambered after him into the bushes, trying fervently to catch her breath so that she could hold it when the men ran by. Normally she might just breath quietly, but as her lungs gasped for air, she knew she would just have to newly deprive to protect them.
She stared blankly ahead. They could just go back. Of course. That made the most logical sense. The footsteps quieted as they ran past, focused on chasing after Con and Nona. Isabelle’s stomach dropped at the thought that they might just catch up to the pair. She wasn’t really sure if she cared about Con or not, he had taken them hostage after all. But he had also saved them—somewhat selflessly she supposed—from the wolves and had stopped threatening them with the bat days ago. He just wanted to go home. He was some sort of dumb baby who had escaped from his cradle knowing nothing about the world beyond his bedroom and was trying desperately to get back to safety. Maybe he would have gone back right away if he had been given the chance. Nona, though, she did care about. Nona had been dragged barefoot from her home and now she was running through the woods—probably crying—because these men had decided that violence was a better answer than logic. Maybe if they had used their brains instead of coming in with guns blazing, they could have separated Nona from Con. Maybe if they had planned to just send him back to the Underground with a warning instead of shooting him, he would have gone quietly. He would have left them alone. But now he was a cornered animal (Isabelle had read about these in books). Cornered animals fought fiercely to save their lives. They could no longer see reason or admit defeat.
Several shots sounded in the distance. Then a piercing scream. A bullet had hit its mark. Isabelle mumbled, “Con.” The scream sounded to feral to escape Nona’s lips.
Isabelle turned to Miles, only a few inches away as they brushed shoulders in the bush. She said, “Can we? What if they still think we’re sympathizers? What if we can never go back? What about Nona? They won’t shoot her next, will they?” She fiddled with the hem of her skirt, “Maybe we should check on them? Just see them through? Then we can be on our way?”
---
Everything was hazy for a little bit. Con felt as if he floated from his spot to the vined tree where he and Nona hid. Though part of him did recognize that Nona struggled under his weight to get him there, Con couldn’t do much to help her. The world swam before his eyes—trees bent sideways and the ground kept trying to hit him in the face.
Slowly, the spinning slowed down. The trees once again pointed towards what he thought was the ceiling and he caught sight of white-clad men running past. For a moment the pain in his leg stopped at his heart pounded in panic at the thought that the men were there to finish the job. But then they were gone. Con wasn’t sure if it had been minutes or hours. Probably minutes, looking at the amount of blood. Well, that was kind of hard to see wasn’t it? It was so dark without the light.
Con whimpered and tears streamed down his face. Every curse he’d ever heard ran through his mind fluidly, the end of one becoming the start of the next. /Lily-livered spud eater dirt brain robot./ Con was dimly aware of a voice other than his mental laundry list of swears. It was Nona. Where was she? Were they dragging her away? He couldn’t see her.
Then his body moved, and he realized that he was lying on Nona. She pushed him, trying to get him off of her. Con obliged as best he could, leaning his weight against the tree trunk more. She was crying. But not the tears of pain leaking from the corners of Con’s eyes. But real tears. Nona was crying. She was crying about him. And she hadn’t given him up to the robot men—the men in white rather. Nor had she run away once he was incapacitated. She’d dragged him over here and hidden with him. Under this thing with strange red liquid that was all over her. No. That was his blood. Because he had been shot. His leg. Not the middle, but it was still bleeding profusely. Maybe if he closed his eyes it would go away. Con fought against his lead lids, no, closing his eyes was a bad idea. He had to stay awake. Nona was crying. She needed him. Though he supposed that he really needed her.
Con shook his head slightly, his leg was on fire and his head was difficult to maneuver. He looked towards Nona, trying to figure out what to tell her. She wanted him to tell her what to do. He started, “’m up. Gonna…okay…” Not helpful.
Con continued slowly, his words slurring more than usual, “Wrap that up.” He leaned forward, trying to take his shirt off to create something to bandage his leg with. He’d seen people with some nasty wounds before—of course no one shot, since that was an Upperworld-only threat—and the goal was always to get the bleeding to stop. For some of the people, that wasn’t enough. But Con couldn’t think about that now. He got dizzy halfway through his endeavor and ended up panicked inside his shirt, “Help!”
Once he was free, Con looked at her again, her eyes still red-rimmed and her brows drawn close together. They were so blue, he hadn’t realized before. Maybe something was different now that he didn’t have to look at them only as the fought their way through this strange terrain or with each other. Con sighed, “Thanks.” He grabbed her arm, “Really thanks.”
Con yanked his head away, pointing quickly to his leg, “Tie it.” He whined just at the thought of her coming any closer to his leg than she already was.
A few moments later, Con moaned, “Need a healer. Can’t die now.” He heaved a shaky breath, he hadn’t meant to say the d-word, but it was running at the forefront of his mind—alongside the curses.
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Post by smartblondie on Nov 19, 2015 17:28:27 GMT -10
Miles was gasping for breath, tucked within the bushes. He'd never been so scared. Ever. Not even close. He was almost positive, in fact, that these past few occurrences in his life had aged him substantially. He was afraid that whenever he found a mirror again, he'd find wrinkles there. He was too young to start buying pills for such small issues.
That was frivolous now, of course. He'd never imagined he'd fear for his life, ever. The way research was going all over, he honestly had thought he'd never have to fear the approach of death. The longevity pill was being crafted all around the Upperworld, he himself had worked with Isabelle a few other classmates to develop the prototype. How could such a thing exist when the world still had such barbaric practices? The idea was that the world was full of civilized, near-perfect citizens. On this basis, death was a hindrance to progression of these great minds, and raising children was an outdated, useless time. But after this...they were wrong. They had progression to go, much progression. There was still too much aggression, too much hatred in the eyes of those men. Their eyes were damning.
Blood drained from his face as he too heard the shot, the scream. He and Isabelle stared at each other, and he could see her trembling. "Isabelle." he mumbled as she began to talk, getting flustered. She was right. She was so right. They couldn't forsake Nona, she was just a child. She was so innocent and helpless. "Isabelle, listen to me. What in the world do you believe we can even do for them? We don't know the first thing about...anything." he said hopelessly, pushing his glasses up in frustration. "It will take one minute to tell the officials that we were kidnapped, and scared. We'll find someone a bit more reasonable and they'll help. We...we don't...well, Con isn't..." he trailed off, guilt making him look away from her. "Fine. Fine, let's go. We'll try to find them, but if we can't after a while, we're going to safety, okay? I won't waste away out here looking for them." he said sternly, standing and brushing himself off carefully. He offered her a gentlemanly hand, feeling a bit odd. It was almost uncomfortable to be so nice and honest with each other. He missed their teasing and competition. Would they ever get back to such a life? Or were they already doomed, from the very moment Con and Nona stepped into that coffee shop?
--
Nona couldn't stem the tears that were flowing as she stared at Con's dull face. He didn't seem conscious, and his face was an awful grey color. As they lay under the tree, Nona shook, terror making her everything tremble like a leaf in a stark wind. She couldn't be much help with her hands jumping around like this, but when he wouldn't answer her, she didn't have anything to do.
For a horrible moment, she thought he might've died. He was just so much quieter than usual, and there was so much blood, covering them both. His eyes were fluttering, and her heart leaped into her throat when he finally spoke. "Don't lie to me, don't lie, don't, Con, don't..." she gasped as she calmed down, narrowing her red eyes at him. He was so close to her, she could see every little detail of his pallid face with a startling clarity. She felt a funny sort of feeling in her stomach as he stared at her with his sleepy, glazed eyes, but was quickly distracted by the pressing matter of his leg. The source of the blood. She clapped a hand over her mouth in vague horror, a horrible mistake as her bloody fingers made contact with her cheek, smearing red. She shuddering, the shaking starting again. Calm, calm, stay calm.
She nodded at his direction, not sure if she really would be able to do as he asked, but she knew she had to try. He tugged at his shirt, panicking as he got stuck. In any other situation, it would be funny. Now, she only leaped to help him, pulling his shirt off, unable to stop the pink staining in her cheeks. Focus, Nona, focus. She chanted this mantra, eyes as wide as saucers. Her parents would be scandalized. She was scandalized. He was staring at her, with an intensity that was comforting after his foggy look earlier. Still, it made her squirm, and she nearly jumped a foot in the air when he grabbed her arm. She thought he might be using her for balance, but instead, he shocked her.
He thanked her. For what, she wasn't sure. Maybe for helping with his shirt. Maybe for helping him hide. Maybe for staying with him? She wasn't sure. She bit her lip, a couple of stray tears trickling free as she nodded vigorously, unable to come up with any good response.
She took his shirt and drew a deep breath, nervous. He didn't look excited, and she was a bit worried he might kick her in the face when she got near his bad leg. Still, she had to. Holding her breath, she knelt beside him, taking as much care and consideration as she could spare. She didn't know how to heal people, but she was always good at meticulous, tedious work with her hands, and so after she wrapped his leg, whispering apologies every time she tugged, she tied it tightly, so it wouldn't slip when they walked. If they walked.
Finally, it was done, and it was comforting to see the wound covered. Still, though, he couldn't walk on his leg like that. Tears welled up in her eyes again, and she scrubbed at them, embarrassed. "Sorry. I wish..." her voice was barely a whisper, wishing more than ever she was stronger or taller or anything that could help Con. He may lean on her, but it wouldn't take long for that to wear her out as well. She grew silent at his words, blinking quickly. Right. Don't worry. Just...get him to help.
"M-m-my brother. He's the only one. Our only chance, he can help, if we can get there." she said weakly, squinting back towards the edge of the woods. "We...we can try. Y-you can just, l-lean on me, I'll support you. Don't put any pressure on it." she told him nervously, offering her shoulder to him again.
As she thought, he was heavy, and after maybe 20 minutes of walking, her face was flushed and her brows were scrunched together as she huffed and puffed. Still, she couldn't afford to complain. They had to make it.
"Oh my God, Nona, Con...!" a voice made her gasp loudly, coming to a sudden stop. Thankfully, after another second, she realized it was Miles' voice. He and Isabelle came bounding towards them, both red in the face. She was shocked to see them, but not upset.
"We have to get to my brother, it's the only chance we've got. Please." she said quickly, sighing in relief as Miles rushed to Con's other side, relieving much of the weight.
The three took turns supporting Con, and they moved almost silently. The fear was palpable. Nona heaved an amazed sigh when they made it to the break in the woods, and buildings grew in size. "It's not far. He stays late a lot, so he might still be at the lab." she whispered as they moved as stealthily as possible, in their current state. "He'll help, I promise."
At the side door of the lab, Nona instructed the other two and Con to remain behind her, so whoever answered would recognize her first. She knocked at the door nervously, eyes shifting quickly.
The door finally swung open, and a sleepy-looking man stood in the doorway, a thermos of coffee still in his hand. His sandy hair was tousled carelessly, and his lab coat was wrinkled, as if he'd fallen asleep in the middle of his work. He seemed almost as if he didn't see them for a second, taking a long drink from his thermos before nearly choking.
"Nona!" his voice was startlingly loud, and the group flinched in response. "Nona, Nona, you're alive, you're okay!" he seemed completely caught by surprise, but his relief faded quickly. "Oh, oh no, what is this, you're a mess, sweetie, what happened, are you-"
"S-Scott, stop. It's not...not...uh, it's not my blood. Please, you have to h-help us." she begged, leading him back inside so that the rest of them could file inside, out of the street. Scott seemed completely lost, no doubt because of his exhaustion, but this didn't stop him from narrowing his eyes as he took them in.
He straightened up, squaring his jaw as his eye settled on the odd one out. "Nona. Explain, now. And it better be good." he warned.
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Post by elise13 on Dec 21, 2015 19:24:42 GMT -10
Con’s head swam. Somehow, Miles and Isabelle appeared out of the woods. Maybe they were some sort of woods creatures. Or maybe he was losing a bit more blood than he initially expected. Regardless, everything became kind of blurry and moved sideways. They were walking somewhere. Really quickly. Con separated from the group once to throw up. A perfect waste of his last meal. And he felt no better after vomiting, instead he felt worse.
The world seemed to melt into a tunnel of brown and green. Occasionally, the lowermost brown seemed to lurch forward.
---
They stumbled through the woods for a while, and just as Isabelle was thinking that they were going to have to give up and go home, they heard the other two scrambling along. Nona was visibly sweating, and her hair was disheveled as she tried to support the startlingly half-naked Con herself. He was barely conscious; his eyes seemed to be mostly closed, and his legs bent awkwardly. So he had been shot. Isabelle’s heart hammered in her chest; he would die. No. That was a bad attitude. He would be fine; they just had to get him to a doctor. She and Miles were not qualified to do anything about the bleeding wound in his leg.
By the time they made any progress, Isabelle was also sweaty and her shoes were muddy. Con—for how thin he was—was surprisingly heavy. Maybe Underground bones were made of brick instead of bone. But the progress was debatable; Nona insisted that her brother would be willing to help them, but Isabelle couldn’t help but consider the alternatives. If he didn’t help, would he turn them in? Would she have to go to jail? Would they just shoot all of them to end it? If he didn’t turn them in, what would they do? Would she and Miles just have to have a test in the field? They had fixed up Conrad’s bit wound. But that had been a bite. And it hadn’t been a neat repair. The gunshot wound, that could actually kill Con. It would be on them if they couldn’t save him.
Finally, the moment of truth. Nona knocked on the door she said was her brother’s lab. At first, he looked tired. Then he looked frightened, then angry. He was a rainbow of emotions. Con was currently leaning on Isabelle, so she caught glimpses of Scott’s face as he looked at all of them and spotted Con. At least he let them in, so they wouldn’t be caught standing on the streets if this all came crashing down.
Isabelle attempted to respond to Scott’s accusation, but Con seemed to have become lucid enough to rejoin the waking world. Con slurred, “No time for long stories. Been shot.” He staggered forward, maybe to grab Scott by his lapel or maybe because he lost his balance. Instead of doing anything productive, he toppled over, sliding down the nearby wall and moaning. Isabelle attempted to catch him, but he was already on the ground and apparently crying.
---
Scott looked between the four of them again, his eyes kept returning to Con as he continued to bleed through the shirt tied around his leg. Scott scowled, sighing, “Fine. Help me get him on the table.” He didn’t have a proper operating table in his lab, but he had a tall sterling silver table. Scott rushed to clear it as the three non-wounded visitors labored to move the Undergrounder. The Undergrounder had lost the lucidity he seemed to have moments ago. His eyes were squeezed shut, and he shook violently.
With a little bit of help from Miles and Isabelle, Scott managed to clean up the bullet wound and stitched it closed. Thankfully the bullet had gone through and had (somehow) managed to miss the most essential parts of Con’s legs. Scott read that in the past to took ages to heal from a wound like this, but with his work, this kid should be fully recovered in a matter of days. Scott had also slipped the Undergrounder a bit of painkiller to get him to quit moaning and hold still. Now the boy was lying still on the table with some color returning to his dirty cheeks.
Scott washed his hands in a sink and filled a kettle with water. He busied himself for a few moments gathering tea cups and sorting out who wanted tea. Finally, he sat down and stared down the group before him. He sipped his tea. He stared at Nona, “Now back to my original question. What is going on? Why on earth do you have a shot Undergrounder with you? And what /compelled/ you to ask me to clean him up?”
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