Lego House

xxi. Rest

Roselle wakes up in a shaky, sweating mess. Her arms are around Michael, pressing tightly around his thin cotton shirt. She loosens them before looking at his face, his eyebrows furrowed and lips curved into a frown. She hadn't woken him, and for that she is thankful. The sky above them, with the light filtering through breaks in between the trees overhead, is a blend of warm tones, ranging from orange to purple. "Are you okay?"

"Heather?" The woman is beside her, one hand on her arm. "I'm fine, it's fine. I was just dreaming."

"You're still shaking," she says, bringing Roselle to notice it herself.

"It's just cold."

"You're sweating, though," she persists.

"I'm fine," Roselle snaps, pulling her arm away from the mother before instantly regretting it as she wakes Michael and slightly angers Heather. She turns back, "I'm sorry. Look, just – I'm incredibly stressed and tired and I haven't been getting much sleep and I am so sorry."

"What's going on?" Michael's voice is groggy but still loud enough to wake anyone close to us.

"Go back to sleep, please, babe," Roselle pleads.

"Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, go to sleep. Please, Heather, you too. We have a big day ahead of us. I'll fix us all a lovely breakfast, please. Just – just sleep." She wants to be alone. She doesn't want to have to plead her case to anyone. She doesn't want to have to tell anyone what her dreams are about. Not even Michael. Definitely not Michael.

Michael is already asleep when she decides to stand again, deciding that everyone else has calmed down a little bit again. She twists her hair into a bun, securing it with her second hair band. Last time they built a fire, half of her hair was almost burnt off. Michael taught her how, though, saying that it was in case of moments such as this, when she would be cooking alone and needing a fire. However, she knew it was truly handy for if he dies.

Perhaps it is because she is tired, perhaps because she isn't truly that in love with him – but she doesn't feel the kind of heartache she knows her little sister would if Jarrett were to die. She feels the heartache a friend would feel, at the thought of losing him. But she does love him, surely. Surely his smile and willingness to help everyone is enough to base such a love on. She throws eggs on the pan. Since travelling through Roler, Timant, Lien and Spard, their group has come across hunters, as well as plenty of animals. They captured chickens who provided them with eggs until recently, after arriving in Grist, they ran away. She was about to cook their final eggs.

The purple, pink and orange in the sky was fading away, being replaced entirely by a bright blue. Roselle is in a more open space, the sky no longer blocked by a mass of trees. "It's beautiful." It's Paul Ade. Lien. 24. That is how she met him, in a long string of people lined up as if they were in the army, with their hands raised to their foreheads. They saluted after stating their general details.

"What is?" she ponders, turning to look at him. His long, curly brown hair is tied back in its signature, slightly disgusting ponytail. His hair is envious for its thickness and colour, however.

"The sky." He's not looking at her, his brown eyes are fixed on the swirling colours above them. "Your boyfriend woke me up," he says with a chuckle, finally turning to look at her. "Pau –"

"Paul Ade. Lien. 24."

"Right. You remember." His smile is perfect. "So, last of our eggs, I see." He sighs, shaking his head a little. "We're running out of supplies but certainly not of cities. We need more people, don't we?" She shrugs in response, not wanting to admit her own worries. "I saw you and your boyfriend arguing about it."