Episode Four, Part 2:

71 5 0
                                    

Episode Four, Part 2:
I m i t a t e

Wynnlow stayed with Aeryn to watch the Imitation. Everything was organised down to the second: the speeches, Decider of the Nobel, and of course, the overthrow of the current Sovereigns.

Even in spite of his ill assumptions of Eryx, Wynn was grateful that he had been allowed inside. It gave him, if not more of an idea to what laid ahead of Sol's position, a deeper understanding to the culture Basilisk held so true to them. Their honour, values, and of course, their debts - all reflected in the ceremony.

Sometime after Sol began rehearsing her speech, Wynnlow slipped out of the exit, silently without Aeryn's or Eryx's knowledge. There was a hesitation in Sol's speech, a sort of stumble over her words, like maybe she had watched Wynn leave, but he would never know if he was what made her fault.

Once he was clear from the Imitation, Wynnlow took the quiet night's walk back to his tent. There was a light illuminating from those either side of his, suggesting that his friends were still awake. Bas and Azha to his left, MaReya and Quill to his right. And as he entered his own tent, there were still two beds, waiting...untouched.

He sat down on the edge of his foldout bed, his head in his hands instantly, a sigh of defeat sizzling out into the night. When he opened his eyes, the foot of Ares' bed was in sight; it bothered Wynn more than it would most humans. More than it should have done. Some sort of reminder that something was missing.

Wynnlow collapsed backwards, shutting his eyes as he lay down, trying to lull himself to sleep. Awake or not, he couldn't distract his mind, especially when the memory of his brother felt so close.

Ares' clothes were folded on the end of his bed - the ones he had been wearing in the Bunker the day they were invaded. The jacket Basilisk had given him... There wasn't much else he owned; even in the Bunker, possessions were limited - birthdays and presents almost like a dream - lingering, though it was almost forgotten.

And when he tried to sleep, Wynnlow could feel himself slipping further into the nightmare, the one that didn't cease, even when he was wide awake. He realised that there was nothing he could do, at that point of time, to shake the horrors from his mind; the only thing that seemed even the slightest bit rational to Wynn was to get as far away from the source of it all, as he could.

He pulled himself up, leaving his tent, out into the once again quiet night, not knowing what he was searching for. But his feet carried him to somewhere that held a hope of clearing his mind. One of the only places he knew of with some certainty, inside Basilisk.

It was Sol's hideout, the place where he had previously found her, the sights of the red mountains no longer visible to the night. Even without it, it still resonated a feeling of security to Wynn. Being locked up in the same Bunker for almost all his life, it was no wonder that he felt safe in the secretive, cooped up places.

Breathing out, Wynn succumbed to his great exhaustion, lying down on the old, fallen log. It certainly wasn't comfortable, and nobody in their right mind would chose it over their tent and bed, but maybe that was just it... Maybe Wynnlow was starting to lose his mind with everything gone...

"What are you doing down here?" Wynnlow shot upwards, every fibre of exhaustion suddenly melting away as he struggled to see who the voice belonged to.

The person stepped down from the bushes, neither a smile or a frown on their face - something in between. He should have known who it was.

The Boy from the BunkerWhere stories live. Discover now