(2016-08-11) Poetry Breaks
Poetry Breaks
Summary: A remembered verse brings it home for the poet
Date: 8.11.2016
Related: Related Logs (Say None if there aren't any; don't leave blank. You have to use full URLs, like http://mushname.wikidot.com/logtitle)
Players:
pied-piper..quinton..

N. Texas Street (NTS)

While the south side of town center is more residential, this side is more commercial, as evidenced by the various businesses that line each side of the street. Beyond those is more residential area.


Quinton feel alike a raccoon, coming out at night to scavenge. But there's only so much stale candy he can find, and he's trying to keep a lookout for Devon. He'd rather people not get murderfaced, even with his captivity. The poet is sneaking around, trying to stay away from the town center, but he's hoping that there might be food or supplies left in the Rite aid. He hopes, anyway.

< FS3> Pied-Piper rolls Alertness: Success.

It's been long enough since the escape that things have quieted down at the Complex, but the whispers and the looks continued. After everything that happened Piper couldn't take it anymore so before bedtime she left the kids with Mama Bea and Ginny, promised she would be back in a day or two and just started wandering. She made a few stops along the way, the reservoir, the HS auditorium and now she is making her way to the north of town to a place she knows she can get some peace and quiet, though she isn't sure about the rest part. She rubs at her shoulder where he pack, which actually has stuff in it this time, digs into her shoulder. For safety she does have her pistol on her hip but no other obvious weapons. As she walks down the middle of the street she pauses hearing something moving around out of her line of sight. It sounds too big to be a possum, raccoon or the usual animals…a wolf maybe or another bear. Neither of those would be good this close to the complex. She moves toward the pharmacy, better she knows so she can inform the guards.

<FS3> Opposed Roll — Quinton=Alertness Vs Piper=Stealth
< Quinton: Good Success Piper: Good Success
< Net Result: Piper wins - Marginal Victory

Quinton stops what he's doing briefly, ears perking up, but he then just shakes his head. He's so on edge, even the moonlight has got him on edge. He takes a movement to rub his hair, he hates it this short, but understands the simplicity of it. A low sigh and he continues towards the pharmacy. He's not so hopefully to find something to take the edge off his back pain… He's going to ahem to fashion some kind of weapon beyond his knife soon. He'll probably need to start to hunt for food soon. He’ll worry about cooking it later.

There is a sharp intake of breath, not quite a gasp, as Not-Quite-Quinton comes into view. For a brief few seconds Piper things she may have finally descended into madness and is hallucinating. She is sure though that the man wouldn't be skulking around in the dark in any madness induced delusions she would have. The theory is quickly dismissed. Confusion and anger well up in her. He wasn't supposed to be here. He was supposed to leave. She said goodbye…in a way. Why does life insist on tormenting her this way. There is conflict, does she sneak off or confront…it's a hard decision for her. She realizes that he is obviously looking for food and that softens some of her anger and she has food with her, so she goes for the second option and begins to head toward him being very blatant about her approach.

Quinton stops, kneeling down to check something growing next to a building. He doesn't have a backpack, so he's not got a lot of options about what to carry vs. eating right away. The few edible leaves he finds are shoved into his mouth, the small corns are shoed into his jean pocket. The noise from her approach has him bolt. He doesn't even turnaround to look, he just prays that whoever it is didn't see him. Piper can totally see him enter the drug store, but if she hadn't had eyes on him, he would have been safe.


Rite-Aid


< FS3> Quinton rolls Stealth: Good Success.

Of course he is going to bolt. As far as he is concerned this is enemy territory. She should of said something first. Piper gives him a minute to hide and then follows in after him, her bare feet crunching across the debris on the floor. Removing her pack she sets it on the front counter and begins to set a few cans of fruit, snack packs of apple sauce and a Baggie of homemade granola bars on the counter. "I know you're here." she says while she unloads the food items. "Don't know why, won't tell." her words aren't coming particularly easily, but they are coming "I'll leave you these." she includes a couple of bottles of water with the food items and shouldering her pack begins to leave the pharmacy and him to his scavenging.

Damn it! It may have been easier if it had been a guard! The poet is shaking, but forces himself to take a deep breath. "Where else could I go? i don't have supplies and if Devon shows up, I'd rather him not hurt anyone." He sounds exhausted, and once he steps into view he looks it too. The man has never kept weight on well, but it's more likely the long shadows that's making him look gaunt than that. Hopefully. Pale eyes flicker down at the water and food, his stomach making itself known. "You don't have to, it's yours." That's softer, almost with a hint of guilt. He's been a bag of very mixed emotions the past few days.

Piper nods, both legitimate reasons for sticking around. "Feeling is mutual." they don't want him hurting anyone either…nor do they want to hurt him. Her eyes follow his and then dart back to take in his gauntness. "We take care of each other." is that the royal we as in her and those in the camp, or the pair of them? It's very vague. "Need anything else?"

Quinton's unsure how to respond to the question. His head tilts and he studies her, more guilt tugging at the back of his brain. "No…this is more than I should be asking for." His hand raises to rub the back of his neck in a familiar motion. He asked, despite his brain telling him not to, "Are you okay?"

"You didn't ask." Piper points out "Freely given, no strings." she expects nothing in return. Would she do the same if Quinton and her didn't have history, maybe, though probably not go generously. And she wouldn't have stuck around to chat though. While she still looks tired, the swelling in her face is gone, the splint removed and the bruises around her eyes a barely noticeable yellow and fading blue. "Are you?" despite her soft voice it sounds loud in the silence of the night.

Quinton notes the not answer, so he gives one back, "I found a place with a roof to sleep." The bottled water and food is glanced at again, "You'll have enough, right? For you and …" He can't say it. Saying it makes it real and then he's the worst ever. His eyebrows draw together and he frowns, looking down at his now clenched fist.

"Don't tell me…" Piper holds up a hand her tone almost pleading, thankfully he doesn't. "Plenty of places around for hiding." she gestures with a nod of her head to the northeast, the direction of the theater "I like the theatre for that. No one goes there but…" she drops that she was going into uncomfortable territory. His questioning though has her head canting at him "Plenty…me and who?" she truly has no idea, since she hasn't spoken of him.

Quinton winces, and keeps his eyes down. His hand unclenches, but then he fiddles his fingers. Seems he's as unsure as she is. His gaze darts up quickly though when she mentions the movie theater, confusion and nerves cross his face. It's pretty clear that's where he's sleeping. He swallows, shaking his head and turning to offer her his silhouette. The poet takes a few deep breaths, unsure how to say it. He's struggling, not his usually struggle for words, but it is there. "I feel like I'm plummeting…It's like everything is staying still but me, and I can't control anything."

She has lost count of how many times she has heard him talk about how he feels like he is falling? She has bits and pieces of his poetry floating around in her mind from the many times he felt that way and could only talk in couplets or other forms of poetry. The first one that springs to mind is the one of gravity "Gravity is my enemy, falling, pulling, breaking the lace cocoon." that we was spouting after the explosion and subsequent concussion.

Quinton stops breathing. Every art has a style that cannot be copied easily. And every artist knows their own. Wide eyes turn towards her, terror in them. That's something he can't deny. His sister, rationalized away. Relationships the same. But his own words? It's like they're shot back at him like a bullet and he stumbles backwards from the impact. The poet may be sneaky, lithe, but he's never been graceful, and an empty knocked over rack that used to have candy bars in it is stumbled into. Quin falls, thankfully backwards onto his rear. But his arms flail about and he makes a strangled cry, he's literally falling this time.

Piper seems as surprised by his reaction to her words as he is. "Quinton!" she exclaims as he falls backwards over the rack. hurrying forward, she drops to her knees leaning over to peer down am him "I'm sorry I didn't mean…" her unbound hair falls over a shoulder brushing his own and probably the ground as well "You okay?" she means physically of course.

Quinton whimpers, not the most manly of noises, but it's what he's got. "He…he took it. He took my words. My life…why…why would he do that to me?" He stays sprawled out on the floor, not answering her question, maybe not even hearing it. Instead he raises his hands to cover his face and cries for what's gone. What he'll never know.

Scavenge/Forage

3 Jars Queso
1 Book-Fiction-Russian Language
1 Book-Fiction-French Language
1 Beginning to Knit Kit
3 Ace bandages
1 Handful of Purslane leaves/stems
3 Acorns

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