Author Games Compilation [Cycle 1]

Task 5 - France's Falling (R13)

WINTER REVOLUTION - 5

It fell to smoke the day revolt rose up as a palpable option. 

Really, though, what was the true purpose of the mission at that point? Was it still in progress for the sake of progress, or had there been another intention? The political upheaval was switching between a mother and a people angered by her position, by her code of law. To hold power over ten people was easy enough - so why was she making their lives a living hell with the moralistically wrong?

Reuben was not one for grudges, no, but as he sat down upon his little log in the back of the camp, he couldn't help but feel that the rations had gotten smaller, that someone'd been taking for their own lavish means. Miriam certainly didn't look bone-thin or hollowed in the cheeks. She looked better than the lot of them.

Reuben was not one for grudges, no, but he had his suspicions. Had Lowell been the one going through deprivation so that the wicked could fill their stomachs, he wouldn't have been nearly as indifferent on the matter.

But he wasn't; he was back home, with plenty. Here, things were scarce, and he drifted on back to Ellie boiling up carrots, or his grandson chewing on something throughout the day. Here, things were colder, and he drifted on back to Ellie tossing a ratty ole' brown blanket over his lap whenever he fell asleep, or Lowell prodding a fire and staring curiously at the coals when they sizzled and glowed. Here, things were chaotic, and he drifted on back to Ellie always putting in a good word about the toxum, or Lowell not having to worry about being left in the dark.

Was he in the dark now?

The question made him uneasy as he sat upon that rotting log, and for a moment he paused his work, letting his hands hover over the supplies he'd brought out again just for the sake of routine. He remembered Alice sitting next to him a little while back, with her trapped tongue and finesse.

They'd said she'd been exposed to something in that cramped little space.

What had him scratching his head was the fact that she'd sat outside while he'd delved his body inside in its entirety. Why hadn't he been afflicted?

Copper had met a similar fate, too. He'd never been close with either, but he'd still taken time for both deaths sink in. He'd known both, not well, but in general. He'd known people that died before, yes, but there was something about these ones.

They would not have proper graves for family to visit, would they? There would be no Lowerings to take them off and treat them proper.

He blamed the poskas. He shouldn't have, but he did. Ellie wouldn't have liked this. Maybe that was why.

His hands moved mindlessly for the next little while, moving one pile to one side, vice versa. It was all rather pointless, really, but he needed the distraction. With every shift of his fingers he saw the glint of gold upon his hand. His lips would pull down, but his eyes would glow up, and he'd restart the process so he could see it again and have that little flicker in his chest that told him he was to make his own decisions, he was to break routine, he was to be free.

But fences still surrounded him. That much was blatantly clear.

What else was clear (fortunately) was the weight that creaked the log beside him, and he glanced right into the uncertain gaze of Froggy. The boy waved sheepishly. "Hey there, ah," he bumped Reuben's shoulder, "ole' pal."

Though he was grateful for the company, he couldn't help but say, "We haven't said one word to each other and already we're old friends. I quite enjoy this camp. Y'know, aside from the constant casualties."