Post by Zane on Jun 11, 2005 15:06:00 GMT -5
((Wow, I'm in a rather depressing mood now aren't I? And that ending, scaaaary! ))
Zane attempted to smile towards the girl, but her gaze was cold and full of distaste. Not quite hate, not yet, but if given time to grow it would indeed soon become hate. His gaze faltered for a moment, then dropped to the floor. Although he knew that they could not see his eyes, could not perceive his expression of naked sorrow, he still felt the need to look away. The older woman however seemed to be a bit friendlier, a bit warmer, and she introduced them both. Zane simply nodded when he heard the names, making sure to store them carefully in his memory. If there was one thing worth doing in this chaotic and desecrated world it was to remember a person’s name. It could bring joy to the face of the grieving, and bring a smile to a room full of frowns. Just that small bit of recognition, it meant a whole lot. Sheryl Freeman and Joan Harvey, he would remember.
Nice to meet you both. I won't be needing any food, you two go ahead.
It surprised him just how easily that lie had flowed from his lips. Didn't need food, to hell he didn't! He was starving just like any other reasonable person, but he really wouldn't take advantage of these two women and their small amount of stores. No, let them eat, since they both appeared to be tired, and at least one of them seemed to be coming down with a cold. They needed the strength more than he did, and he could only hope that he wasn't risking his own health by being so polite. It was one of his weaknesses, the compulsion to be so gracious, but it was a habit so ingrained that he could never quite rid himself of it. So instead of continuing on a conversation that felt forced, he slid down to a sitting position on the floor. His back was against the wall, and it felt good to have the firm support behind him. It meant at least that no one could attack from behind. It was dark in the corner, dark and exceedingly cold. Zane longed to approach the fire, but did not, as he knew that it would do more ill than it would good. His clothes were warm; he had come prepared, so he would be all right.
He watched as Sheryl left the room, apparently to find more wood and paper to burn. She was gone a while, and Zane almost became concerned that she might not return. But finally she did, though not quite the same as when she had left. She was limping just slightly, though trying hard not to, and all the while attempting to keep up that poor excuse of a smile. She was brave, trying to be warm and kind in this place, and he admired her. If she had been a little less brave and proud he might have offered to help her with her injury, but she would most likely not need his aid. Instead Zane settled himself against the wall, shifting until he found an almost comfortable position. He closed his eyes for a moment, found that he couldn't sleep, and decided to stare off into the darkness instead. Wasn't that about the same anyway? Instead of closing your eyes to create darkness you simply took advantage of what was already there. Easy, simple, effective. And so he allowed space and time to spiral off into eternity, waiting for a noise from the two women, for something to happen, for someone to die.
Zane attempted to smile towards the girl, but her gaze was cold and full of distaste. Not quite hate, not yet, but if given time to grow it would indeed soon become hate. His gaze faltered for a moment, then dropped to the floor. Although he knew that they could not see his eyes, could not perceive his expression of naked sorrow, he still felt the need to look away. The older woman however seemed to be a bit friendlier, a bit warmer, and she introduced them both. Zane simply nodded when he heard the names, making sure to store them carefully in his memory. If there was one thing worth doing in this chaotic and desecrated world it was to remember a person’s name. It could bring joy to the face of the grieving, and bring a smile to a room full of frowns. Just that small bit of recognition, it meant a whole lot. Sheryl Freeman and Joan Harvey, he would remember.
Nice to meet you both. I won't be needing any food, you two go ahead.
It surprised him just how easily that lie had flowed from his lips. Didn't need food, to hell he didn't! He was starving just like any other reasonable person, but he really wouldn't take advantage of these two women and their small amount of stores. No, let them eat, since they both appeared to be tired, and at least one of them seemed to be coming down with a cold. They needed the strength more than he did, and he could only hope that he wasn't risking his own health by being so polite. It was one of his weaknesses, the compulsion to be so gracious, but it was a habit so ingrained that he could never quite rid himself of it. So instead of continuing on a conversation that felt forced, he slid down to a sitting position on the floor. His back was against the wall, and it felt good to have the firm support behind him. It meant at least that no one could attack from behind. It was dark in the corner, dark and exceedingly cold. Zane longed to approach the fire, but did not, as he knew that it would do more ill than it would good. His clothes were warm; he had come prepared, so he would be all right.
He watched as Sheryl left the room, apparently to find more wood and paper to burn. She was gone a while, and Zane almost became concerned that she might not return. But finally she did, though not quite the same as when she had left. She was limping just slightly, though trying hard not to, and all the while attempting to keep up that poor excuse of a smile. She was brave, trying to be warm and kind in this place, and he admired her. If she had been a little less brave and proud he might have offered to help her with her injury, but she would most likely not need his aid. Instead Zane settled himself against the wall, shifting until he found an almost comfortable position. He closed his eyes for a moment, found that he couldn't sleep, and decided to stare off into the darkness instead. Wasn't that about the same anyway? Instead of closing your eyes to create darkness you simply took advantage of what was already there. Easy, simple, effective. And so he allowed space and time to spiral off into eternity, waiting for a noise from the two women, for something to happen, for someone to die.