The Trick to Falling in Style

Apology

The world outside of the walls is a barren wasteland of rocky ground and thin, shifting sheets of sand. It is completely flat with only a caliginous promise of mountains on the horizon. The plants that occasionally crop up are unlike anything found inside the walls due to natural selection, and any animals that would have existed have been completely devoured by the monsters that hide in every long shadow. Other than the walls themselves, there is nothing manmade out here for miles except for the asphalt road that will eventually deliver anyone wandering along the road to the science outpost, the last bastion of mankind in the unforgiving known world.

Kistune is sprawled out in the passenger seat. He pulled the lever at some point that dropped his seat into a diagonal angle. Luckily, Mamacita is curled up in a ball in her seat, so she doesn't have a need for leg space. The two of them passed out pretty early in the trip. Kitsune claimed it was to save his energy for the fight. Mamacita didn't give any excuses as she pulled her legs to her chest, burying her face in her arms. Vermillion would have said something to her, but she was completely closed off from everyone. She even turned around to face the window, and Vermillion knew she couldn't be doing that for the view.

Vermillion was awake. He wanted to doze off, but the car's constant motion was keeping him conscious. He was forced to stare out at the dry lands that used to be all he knew. He didn't have any specific memories, but the entire aesthetic of the cracked ground beneath the evening sun reminded him of the place that he had been running from his entire life. He couldn't run anymore, though. No, he had to be delivered to his adversary on a silver platter. Or, he thinks, he's being delivered inside a black car.

Monarch is also awake. It isn't a surprise since they're the one driving. Vermillion sometimes turns his attention away from the window to the back of the driver seat's headrest. He can see the soft curls of Monarch's hair, but he doesn't need the physical evidence to inform him that Monarch is there. He can feel it in his bones because here is someone that Vermillion has been running from for a lot longer than he's been running from everyone else. Monarch was the first person Vermillion turned on, and it wasn't entirely for no reason. It wasn't for a good reason, either, but at least Vermillion had something other than himself to blame.

"Why don't you get some sleep?" Monarch's voice filled the entire car even though they were speaking in a soft tone. A reason for this could be that the radio was off and the air conditioning unit was put on low, but Vermillion knew that it was mainly because Monarch just had that sort of voice. It was the kind of voice that authority figures possessed, or really just those completely confident and sure of themself. It wasn't enough to be cocky; it was literally someone who knew exactly what they were capable of. It was no surprise that Monarch had chosen that title when their voice sounded like that.

"Been fucking trying. Can't sleep," Vermillion responded, intentionally pushing his knees into the back of Monarch's seat. If Vermillion was cursed with anything- other than an unfortunate life- it would be this: he kept pushing. Vermillion kept pushing people, more and more, harsher and louder, until they broke. And when people broke, Vermillion ran. He pushed his way into people's lives until he nearly took it all up, and then he would leave. He would draw out the absolute worst in people, and he would be gone before the consequences caught up to him. The only consequences he really experienced was his own loneliness, but that was a negligible part of the curse. Everything else, he escaped unscathed. It wasn't so much a habit as it was an instinct, at this point. It was his very nature to ruin people. It was his own mindset that stopped him from accepting what would befall him.

"I can put a lullaby on if that would help," Monarch said, lifting up his communicator. Vermillion tilted his head to see that there was an aux cord plugged into the car, ready for someone to hook up their advice and blare whatever music they wanted. Vermillion wondered whose car this was. If it was the association's, he doubted they would just have an aux cord. He didn't think Monarch, Kitsune, or Mamacita would simply carry one around.