After the end

Christian

I can feel her presence behind me even though she tries hard not to make a sound. I can feel her body heat, but deeper than that the flames of passion within her body. I know she's planning something she won't let me in on, especially after our little discussion there. "She just doesn't get it." I tell myself "she doesn't understand how dangerous it is to even know of their existence, but at the same time....she must,right? She did work for the government after all....."  I silence my mind, suspicious that she's brushing my thoughts, probing my memories to find any information on the other uniques. Finally, I've had enough of the icy silence. "It's Christian, by the way." She looks at me in confusion and I smirk. "My name I mean. I said you didn't even know my name, but now you do." She blushes in embarrassment, and looks down. I shove my hands into my pocket and keep walking, once again feeling her heat behind me. "A-Arwen." She stammers out. I keep going, chuckling quietly to myself as she walks along behind me. We reach the boarding house, and I offer to take her things to her room for her so that she can get settled in. I'm prepared for a no, an argument about how I was unwilling to help her make an earth shattering discovery, but I wanted to carry her bags for her? I was ready, so her light and airy yes surprises me a bit. "Oh, okay." I mumble. She smiles shyly, and graciously lets me lead her to her living space without complaint. I unlock the door, and shove it open, giving way to a living compartment; an apartment I think is what they used to call it? She glides quietly into the room, and I catch myself staring at her in wonder. She's small and lithe, no taller than five foot four, but the soft bulge in her jacket and pants hints at well maintained muscles. She has thick hair, the same color as the bark of a pine tree, and large doe eyes, a refreshing shade of spring green. She has a scar above her left eye, one that cuts through her otherwise shapely brows, and her lips are full and thick. I'm astonished at how youthful she looks, though she's nearly seventeen. She could masquerade as a child and not get caught. "How could anyone that beautiful and delicate be a dangerous weapon? She's like a canary, young and refreshing." And then I remember her abilities. I've heard tales of her driving people to madness using only her mind, reports of entire enemy regimes being blown to bits because she could feel the influx of spirit from miles away. And she's not to bad with a knife either is what I've heard. "What? Do I have something on me? Is it a spider!" Her panicking snaps me out of my stupor, whoops I guess I stared at her a bit to long. "No" I manage to squeak out. She looks relieved, and her warm smile returns. I would call her the sun, radiant and bright, but our sun now is small, the shattered remains of a once huge gaseous giant. It was the suns implosion that gave away our location to galactic enemies. The gaseous fumes that killed off what population the aliens didn't. She isn't the sun, no. She's much better. She's the moon. Radiant and comforting. A beacon in the night when we feel all hope is lost. Gorgeous, strong, and it pains you when she fades away. But there is always the promise that she will return that next night.  I feel something in the pit of my stomach, something I can't explain, but I force it into the pit of my stomach and decide to give her some time to settle. "I'll leave you alone so you can get used to surroundings, but if you need anything, I'm right down the hall. Compartment 324. Just knock." She smiles again, weaker, tired, and nods. I deftly leave the room, and close the door behind me, pacing down the hall to my own living compartment. I turn the key and push the door open, walking into the dark, the smell of heat and singed wood strong in the air. Everywhere, on the walls, the furniture, are singe marks, fire aimed randomly at any object that stood before me in fits of rage. The only thing in my house that stood unmarked is my piano. I found it on the streets, and picked it up as a pastime finding solace in the different concertos and endless aria's to be played. Schubert and Debussy have always brought me the most peace. With the world going to hell, and the people plummeting into sheer madness, the least I could do was focus my raging fingers on something other than burning. And so far it's worked. I sit on the weathered bench and let my fingers fly along the keys, allowing my hands to represent my mood. I guess I'm somewhat melancholy, because I end up playing through the raindrop prelude with ease, before moving into the third movement of the moonlight sonata. As my hands blindly perform the memorized pieces, my mind wanders once again to the girls awkward desires. Most girls want a hot boyfriend, cute clothing, a better place to live: but not this one. No she wants to gather together the worlds most dangerous teenagers, and overthrow the only frail form of government the world has left. Yeah, she's definitely anything but normal. But I have to keep reminding myself that she's not normal. She's a dangerous weapon devised in a military lab, so that she could destroy any and all who rebelled against this new "democracy". Yeah sure. Moria is to a democracy as a rager bear is to cuddly. Maybe her plan isn't so crazy after all. Maybe in a breaking world, a little healthy rebellion isn't such a bad idea. But I refuse to admit she's right. So I'll go with her. But I'm going with my own plan laid out. Aurapath or not, I'm taking out the government my way.