in which a girl with a heavy burden tries to find her way through the trials and torments of the earth they've come home to.
OR
in which she must rebuild.
EMBERS
JOHN MURPHY
DEATHLIES 2016
DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN T...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
T H I R T E E N
"What are you going to do, Octavia?" Althea asks, seeing the mischievous glint in her eye after her brother left her to be looked after by Atom whilst he went to rescue Jasper. They sat beside the fire in camp, Octavia was smiling down as she sharpened a weapon.
She looks up, leaning back on her elbows. "Nothing, just going to make his life hell," She laughs, her head tilting backwards. Althea chuckles at her new found friend, brushing her hands over her knees. "Now what about you? I saw that hug between you and Murphy whilst Clarke was on another rampage." Octavia's eyes roll at he mention of Clarke, Althea was glad she wasn't alone.
"You're overreacting about it, he was just looking out for me," She explains, raising her hands into the air. "I was just feeling a little low and he just gave me a hug." Her voice was less confident than she wanted it to be, but she still hoped Octavia wouldn't pick up on it.
"Okay, sure. He just gets out of a fight and is up for a hug? Are you sure you weren't the one to initiate the hug?" Octavia smirks, her eyebrows raising at Althea.
Althea almost laughs again. Her red-tinted lips turning up at the edges. "You're unbelievable." Looking at the sharpened weapon beside Octavia's feet, she grimaces slightly. "Be careful, ok? People down here, they're criminals and some are more dangerous than others."
"I don't need you doing this too," She whines, throwing her head back and looking to the sky. The same sky she had come from in the drop ship and the same sky that had held her imprisoned for the crime of being born.
"I'm serious, I have seen death and it has no mercy. Not even for people who have not yet truly lived," She says, somehow feeling more at ease with her. She speaks as if she were talking to a loved family friend. "You would be a fool to think otherwise."
"Alright, alright." Octavia rolls her eyes, not understanding the eternal truth to her new found acquaintance. "Since when were you so cautious? I heard you tried to murder Abby Griffin and that's what got you locked up."
Althea's eyes regain their distance, glazing over as she sinks back into herself. The glow seems to fade from her cheeks and her lips fall slightly apart in apparent disbelief in the words of the girl before her. Whispers fill her mind, threading through her bones as she is enveloped once again.
Upon seeing the newly-born flame die in her eyes, Octavia feels guilt setting in. "I'm sorry," She sighs and sits up, her fingers pressing into the harsh, make-shift handle of her blade. "I didn't mean it like that."
"It's okay," Althea whimpers, rising to her feet silently. She brushes the dirt from herself before wandering away from Octavia to her usual spot beneath the tree. Somehow, she found comfort here. Maybe it was the solitude, the distance between herself and the camp of hustle and bustle.
It allowed time to think and space to breath her own air. The bark against her back might have been hard, but it was an embrace like no other. It let her know she was welcome and it made her feel like she didn't have to explain herself.
The crows did not sit far above. They cawed their psychotic melodies to one another through the afternoon sun, breezing it through. It had some kind of warmth to it, an interesting tone. Nothing Althea had ever heard before she'd been tossed to Earth. Their songs filled the space that the nightmares usually took up, blocking them out. She didn't have nearly as many flashes of death as she used to back on the Ark.
"Down here, things are different," She whispers, her voice raspy and weak. Low and lonely, she spoke, like she were one of them. "Things move quicker down here. Already, I see people changing into new beings. There are people falling in love, I see that clearer than day, like breathing poetry," She hums to them, smiling as she rests her head back against the firm trunk.
Crows caw in response, ducking their heads up and down. Laughing as she turns her head away from them, she speaks once more. "But even the most beautiful of poetry can have the most tragic of endings, you know that right? I certainly do; I definitely do."
