OPEN | prompt three | PAIN

[wrens]

prompt three | P A I N dressing-room style. start your own thread. tag others. wash, rinse, repeat. open to all.

 

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[nonimmune]

[ The man hesitates just a moment, as if to argue, but in the end, he lies down just a yard (give or take) from the girl, on his side so as to keep his eyes upon her. (It's how he always sleeps — if he sleeps at all — as though even in the arms of Morpheus he could keep her safe.)

For a long moment, he simply stares at her, the look on his face almost one of grief (not proper grief, but the numbness that comes afterwards). There are moments in which he wonders if this is simply a nightmare, if he will suddenly wake to a world in which there is no such thing as the Sickness and the lengths to which people will go to in order to survive still remain distant. (He'd already known of the price of life and death, yes, but he'd never seen it quite so close.) But he knows, he knows this is not a dream (nothing so horrible could be) and he knows he cannot afford to dwell upon things he cannot change.

The only matter in which he has any say is in the survival of the girl, and even that say seems to be dwindling.

A part of him wants to reach out, to take her hand, but that is a luxury, and they have no room for such things. So he simply watches her, his face made even more gaunt by the darkness and the shadows. ]