The Boy from the Bunker

Episode Three, Part 4:

Episode Three, Part 4:

S o l

They remained sitting together in the silence, a lust to dissolve into the sight, until Wynnlow asked, "What is that place?"

Riverly sighed, her eyes scanning further into the red mountains, debating whether to tell him. She knew she had to be careful with what she gave away. Accepting the Bunker Clan into Basilisk had been treacherous enough; if people felt that they had a power, there would surely be a revolt against her father's name.

From a boy who had seen too little of the world, and yet, far too much suffering, she knew that this wasn't something that deserved to be hidden from him.

"It's called the DeadLands." There was a shiver as she spoke. Something not quite matching up to the wonder before their eyes.

"DeadLands?" Wynnlow sought confirmation. "What is it?"

"From what we know? A dead stretch."

"And beyond it?"

"Maybe anything. No ones made it that far. At least, not back again."

Wynnlow didn't have a chance to say anymore, and instead, the questions ate away at his mind. It seemed one side surrounding Basilisk were the hunters and Raiders, and the other, a lifeless desert shielding their escape. If they ever needed one...

Before he allowed himself to get too caught up in his curious mind, his tuned into the noise that had interrupted their conversation.

"Sol, come in."

Riverly rolled her eyes, roaming her hand around a bag to find the source of the static following, the voice repairing, "Sol, are you there?"

"Yes, dad," her words came on her exhale, "can this wait?" She shifted away slightly, knees pointing opposite her company, an attempt of privacy.

Wynnlow looked away, but he remained listening.

"What do you think my answer is going to be? I've told you Sol, don't waste your breath on things that don't need to be said... The Imitation begins in 40 minutes; Kodiak says he hasn't seen you all day."

Half the time, it felt like he was hearing another language. So many of their customs and sayings held so little meaning to Wynn, barely anything even offering a hint into what they were talking about. Her father sounded tense. Perhaps the Imitation was important to him, and therefore he expected it to be important to Riverly, too. But she seemed less than fazed.

She held the radio down in her hands, letting her father's voice crackle through. Wynn could see that she found pleasure in her act of disobedience, almost a thrill of no one being aware of her carelessness.

"You have 5 minutes to be at the Sovereign Quarters, Sol, or I really will seize your training privileges. That means no Dreea, no Kodiak." Her father's voice chimed back in, concluding without a chance for debate.

Riverly huffed, standing up with a sulk, chucking her radio fiercely into her bag.

"I have to go." She announced, gathering all her things, barely having a moment to look over at him.

"To the Imitation?" Wynn guessed.

Riverly paused in her actions, glaring up at Wynn, dead set. "You listened to my radio?" Her tone was her surprise, half anger.

Wynnlow shrugged, his smirk enough to annoy her more than his words ever could. 

"Great. Another thing I have to teach you." She muttered. "You want to be accepted at Basilisk? Have some respect. Especially for your Sovereigns." She slung her bag strap over her shoulder, hurrying to walk past him. It was clear that she did not have the patience to deal with much more.

"My apologies, Sol." Wynnlow teased.

In an instant, Riverly had dropped her bag to the ground, squaring up to face Wynn directly on. "Don't ever call me that." She said, her words departing through gritted teeth, joined together with jabs on his chest.

Wynn folded his arms, challenging the young Sovereign. "I should think it's only my right to, if we're being honest."

"Really? Since you know so much about the world, why don't you tell me what right that is exactly?"

"The same right you had to pull me out of our Bunker. To bring me back to Basilisk. To tattoo your name on my skin."

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