|
Post by Tomlin Oak on Mar 8, 2013 20:50:45 GMT -8
[atrb=width,450,true][atrb=border,0,true][atrb=bgcolor,#242424]
TONIGHT THE DARKNESS HUNTS AND IT WILL TAKE WHAT IT WILL
He built a fire beneath the crumbling towers. The sky overhead was beginning to grow darker, but he couldn't see if the sun had set or not yet.
The city made him feel uneasy. He was not superstitious by nature, but he felt as if the abandoned city was lurking with ghosts. The hair on the back of his neck stood on end, and he felt restless. Still, he knew the dangers that might come with night. Best to settle down beside a fire and wait for dawn to come.
While the fire nibbled at the tinder, Tom pulled his pack towards him and rifled through it. Near the bottom, under his spare change of clothes, canteen, and extra blanket, he found he had only two jars left. He'd traded a hand-made bow for as many jars of food his pack would carry. But that had been over a month ago, he now realized. The days had blurred together, each rolling ceaselessly into the next. It had been several days since he'd seen even his brother. They tended to travel on their own, separate but heading in the same direction. Socializing wasn't exactly their strong point.
Tom wished now, though, that his brother might appear from the shadows of the dead buildings. It was impossible to be afraid when Roger was around. Not that he would ever show his fear in front of his brother, of course. Roger was older ten months older than him, but he'd always made sure Tom never forgot it. If he saw fear in his younger brother's eyes... Well, Tom figured he'd get plenty of teasing for it.
For the time being, he dug out one of his remaining jars -- thick rabbit stew -- and twisted away the cap. He was tempted to warm the jar by setting it close to the flames, but he didn't want to risk the scent attracting anything -- human or otherwise.
TAGGED Yanni w/ Roger
|
|
|
|
Post by Roger Gale on Mar 8, 2013 21:38:51 GMT -8
NOW THE TOWERS HAVE FALLEN so much dust in the air The small, dead animals flopped onto the ground unceremoniously, and the sound of a sharp curse word quickly followed. Why was he so clumsy today? The dumb animals wouldn’t stay in his hands. Roger’s sharp hiss cut through the silent air; immediately after he swore, he regretted it. One of the animal’s relatives, still alive, scampered away quickly upon hearing his intrusion. “Idiot squirrels,” the young man muttered darkly as he bent over to pick up the squirrels he had dropped. Three squirrels were barely enough for supper—two was even worse. He would have to make it work, or wait and see if his baby brother had anything to spare. It was a real shame that he managed to lose track of the snake he battled with earlier—that would’ve made a fine meal. Instead he left with a snake bite. What a treat.
Roger could see his warm breath in the air. Where had they decided on meeting again? Honestly, he planned on wandering around a bit until he remembered. He was never too good with details… Of one thing he was sure, however, and that was that he needed to warm himself and eat before he collapsed from exhaustion. It had been a long week. Roger winced as he felt the stinging sensation return to his left hand. He still needed to suck some of the snake venom out of the wound.
In order to survey his surroundings better, he climbed onto some low, crumbling rooftops and walked along them, keeping an eye out for any sign of Tom. He saw a dying fire not too far off, but it was too dark to see if anyone was still around. Roger pulled his small knife out of his back pocket, tucked his squirrels inside his jacket, and clumsily dropped from his rooftop. He approached his destination with his knife ready, but when he neared, he recognized the figure by the cinders. The young boy smirked and retrieved his squirrels from inside his jacket.
“Hey,” Roger called gruffly from a distance, nodding his head toward Tom when he came into view. He hadn’t seen the kid in days, but he kept their conversation to the usual. No need to ask how the kid had been—Roger could count on his brother to take care of himself. Casually, he strolled over and eyed the boy’s pack, seeing if he’d had anything delicious to spare.
He eyed the kid’s stew.
"That’s what I’m talking about," he commented, not hesitating to dip one of his fingers into the kid’s open jar of stew to taste it. He wasn’t going to ask how the kid got it. Not when it looked and smelled so delicious.
|
|
|
Post by Tomlin Oak on Mar 8, 2013 22:58:00 GMT -8
[atrb=width,450,true][atrb=border,0,true][atrb=bgcolor,#242424]
TONIGHT THE DARKNESS HUNTS AND IT WILL TAKE WHAT IT WILL
Despite his best efforts, his meal did attract a beast from the darkness. Tom was both equal parts relieved by his brother's presence and annoyed by it. Roger didn't hesitate to steal some of his food with hardly more than a word of hello. Despite his relief, he jerked away from his brother and aimed a short kick towards Roger's boot.
As predicted, his fear melted away now that he wasn't alone. Apparently without realizing it, Roger emanated an aura of rationality. He could handle anything the world threw at him, Tom knew. He also knew he probably wouldn't have lived to his current age if it hadn't been for his brother. After Father had left them, there had been a dozen times he would have surely died if his brother hadn't kept his cool and kept an eye on him. Things had changed a lot since then. Now they barely seemed to rely on each other. They mostly caught their own food and lived separate lives. A small part of him missed working as a team, but Tom relished in the feeling of independence; he knew now that his life rested entirely in his own hands.
Still, there was something lacking. He remembered how easily Father had called up knowledge of this-or-that plant or a far off place. He'd never admit it to his brother, but Tom wondered what it was like to be worldly. He silently swore he'd find out someday.
"Is that it?" he asked incredulously, gesturing his worn spoon towards Roger's squirrels. He raised one eyebrow, but didn't speak again as he returned to his stew. They often didn't need to speak to communicate with each other. He knew what his brother would be thinking, would be feeling, even if they had spent days apart.
He wanted to ask Roger about the city around them -- if he'd seen anything strange in it. He wasn't certain, though, how to bring it up without invoking a heckle in return. If it wasn't life-threatening, they didn't often warn each other what might lay ahead or behind. And often if it was life-threatening, their only communication would be that it was time to leave the area -- now. But Roger had approached the fire with ease; he wasn't afraid of these buildings the way Tom was. Now he knew there was no way he could ask about it...
TAGGED Yanni w/ Roger
|
|
|
|
Post by Roger Gale on Mar 9, 2013 0:06:34 GMT -8
NOW THE TOWERS HAVE FALLEN so much dust in the air Roger simply smirked in reply as his brother reacted so quickly to his intrusion. Sometimes he wondered if he taught Tom too well. Without another word, he took a comfortable seat next to his brother and brought his knife back out, quickly moving to skin his squirrels. He had done it so many times that he made each move smoothly.
"Pretty scarce lately," he reasoned aloud, in response to Tom. After a moment, though, he scoffed in spite of himself and cast a brief glance at his brother. "Don’t go for the yellow-patterned snakes near the clearing, by the way. Poisonous. Not enough meat on 'em." Of course, there was plenty of meat on them. But he couldn't risk telling that tidbit to Tom.
Carefully, he lifted his left hand to his mouth and clasped his mouth around the snake bite on his hand. He sucked some of the fluids out and spat them into the dirt beneath his feet. He was going to have to do some plant-searching if he wanted to ease the sting. For now, the best he could hope to do was cover it up. With his free hand, Roger stabbed a hunk of squirrel meat on the end of his knife and held it over the fire. He was so hungry—he could hardly stand the thought of waiting to eat the dumb rodent.
He let his eyes wander for a bit—first to the sky, and then into the fire again. His stomach growled loudly. However, he felt a disturbance when he realized a certain item was still missing from his brother’s inventory. Roger didn’t like to seem pushy, but when it came to looking out for Tom, he wanted to make sure his brother was prepared for whatever was out there.
"You still haven’t remade a bow," he stated. It was a question in his mind, but it sounded more matter-of-fact than he intended. He couldn’t deny that he didn’t like the thought of Tom going out without a proper weapon. Roger frowned, but still refused to make prolonged eye contact with his brother. Instead, he lifted his squirrel to inspect it, but quickly stuck it back into the fire with a grumble.
(TAGGED) Dark w/ Tom
|
|
|
Post by Tomlin Oak on Mar 9, 2013 19:57:14 GMT -8
[atrb=width,450,true][atrb=border,0,true][atrb=bgcolor,#242424]
TONIGHT THE DARKNESS HUNTS AND IT WILL TAKE WHAT IT WILL
He only raised an eyebrow at his brother's first comment. Roger must have spent the day hunting in the center of the city where there were fewer animals. Out towards the edges, Tom had found plenty of squirrels. But he'd spent most of the day exploring the city. It had been a while since they'd ventured into one, and he was eager to snoop around. The outer streets had been taken back by the flora more so than the heart of the city. There were few remnants of the former inhabitants of the place, though. He hadn't found hardly any paper around to collect for tinder. He'd kept an eye out of any clothing that could be salvaged, but he hadn't found any on the streets. Tom suspected there were people hiding somewhere in the city, collecting the same things he'd been looking for.
He glanced quickly over Roger's hand. It didn't look too bad; he appeared to have gotten most of the venom out of it. Snakes bites could be very risky. You never knew how poisonous one might be, if at all. A part of him suspected his brother was lying about the size of the snakes; he wouldn't have been so foolish to get himself bitten on the hand if he hadn't been trying to catch it.
Tom watched the squirrel meat cooking in the fire, spooning stew into his mouth without paying it much attention. The fire had grown larger by now, big enough to chase away the shadows and fear, leaving him feeling drowsy. Roger, in comparison looked like hell. They'd both sleep deeply that night, he suspected, less on edge knowing the other was near. They very rarely kept watch at night. Having grown up as nomads, the slightest sound would wake the both of them.
He shrugged when his brother mentioned the bow. He needed just the right wood for making a new one, and he hadn't yet found any that satisfied him. Up until a day or so ago, he'd been carrying a light spear instead, with a knife blade attached to the end. But the spear had broken. He still had the knife as well as his usual blade and a small hatchet, but these were all close-range weapons and didn't do him much use when it came to hunting. Now that his food supply was running short, he'd need to start on a bow immediately. It sometimes took him several days to get one just right, as well has making a handful of arrows. To his brother, he only said, "'M workin' on it."
Having only eaten a fourth of the jar, he replaced the lid on the stew and stashed it back in his bag. As he did so, he tugged out something new. "Look what I found." He tugged it onto his hand. "Completely useless mitten," he commented. The mitten was thick and heavily padded, but too large and instead of closing around his wrist at the end, it stayed open. How on earth did people before the war use these things to keep their hands warm? It would let in snow so easily. Maybe they bound the end with string, he reasoned.
TAGGED Yanni w/ Roger OOC lol it's an oven mit
|
|
|
|
Post by Roger Gale on Mar 9, 2013 22:41:45 GMT -8
NOW THE TOWERS HAVE FALLEN so much dust in the air Roger turned his head toward his shoulder and heaved a giant yawn—he had been out and about since the early morning, doing everything from hunting, exploring, and gathering some resources. He had managed to keep a few hidden stashes of useful and edible plants, but what he really wanted to something to create a map on. He was pretty good at keeping note of locations in his head, but he would have felt more comfortable writing stuff down. Roger reminded himself to stay on the lookout for something of the sort.
He raised a thick eyebrow at Tom, smirking only slightly. "Sure you’re working hard, Tommy Boy," he joked. Right after he spoke, his smirk disappeared slowly. Something about it harkened to the days where they were still a family—the boys and their father. He quickly pushed the thought from his mind. No need to think about it, he told himself. Not when they had more important things to worry about. His brother tended to be a bit of a weapons perfectionist in Roger’s mind, but he couldn’t deny that the kid always managed to make sturdier stuff. Roger only barely had the skill to craft bows—his strength laid in knives and how to throw them. He didn’t doubt that Tom would have it all taken care of soon.
When Tom took out the mitten, though, Roger couldn’t restrain a laugh. Not only because it looked so stupid, but simply at the fact that Tom wanted him to see it. He was still such a kid sometimes. Roger leaned forward to get a better look. He even reached over to brush it with his fingers. The thing looked absolutely ridiculous—what kind of mitten was that? It had a terrible pattern on it, too. Roger wondered if people’s hands used to be bigger in order to fit such a gargantuan thing. "Where’d you knick that, anyway?" he chuckled softly. His brother was always finding the weirdest stuff.
He lifted the squirrel meat to inspect it further, but it still needed more heat. Roger, in his impatience, cut off a small piece with his knife and licked it right off the blade. It tasted all right, but it would be better if he left it alone. So he dropped it unceremoniously back into the flames, secretly hoping it would just catch fire.
"Hm. It’s still cold," he muttered as he turned his eyes upward. He breathed some warm air onto his hands and gently rubbed them together, minding his wound. Without taking another moment to think about it, he quickly tore a bit of his shirt off and wrapped it hastily around his hand. As he tied it off, he looked up at Tom again. "Think I’m searching outside the city in the morning. Maybe up north," he said plainly. "We’re getting someone’s leftovers nowadays, know what I mean?"
Roger hadn’t seen any others for a long while, but resources were definitely becoming limited. He wasn’t sure what he’d do if he encountered someone new—especially someone who needed to survive as much as they did. It wouldn’t be too pretty.
(TAGGED) Dark w/ Tom
|
|
|
Post by Tomlin Oak on Mar 10, 2013 21:36:50 GMT -8
[atrb=width,450,true][atrb=border,0,true][atrb=bgcolor,#242424]
TONIGHT THE DARKNESS HUNTS AND IT WILL TAKE WHAT IT WILL
Their father had taught them how to make weapons, starting when they weren't even old enough to wield one yet. He recalled being perhaps four and carrying around a tiny bow he'd made himself. It had barely shot a twig three feet, but he'd carried it around for nearly a year. Father had always refuse to make weapons for them. If they wanted it, they had to make it themselves. Roger had been successful at bows before Tom had, but then the younger brother had spent more time perfecting the skill over the years. There was a reason people would trade him a single bow for as much canned food as he could carry. Their father had also taught them to carve spears and staffs and fletch arrows. They had learned in time to sharpen bits of rock into arrowheads. All of these Tom could manage, but it was only bows and perhaps arrows he was particularly good at.
He remembered Father's bow. It was made of a strange, black wood, and never made a sound when strung or drawn. It was made of strong wood, too. Tom had never been able to draw the bow himself. Perhaps now he could, but Father had left long before either of them had grown to full size. With every bow he made, a part of Tom longed to make one as timeless and powerful as Father's.
He tucked the strange mitten away in his pack again. Roger never seemed to find strange things like that. Perhaps he wasn't really looking, but Tom suspected he simply didn't care about it very much. The green-eyed brother sometimes wondered what people had been like back before the war. What were their lives like? He'd heard tell that back then, almost no one was nomadic. Nowadays, half of the remaining humankind spent their lives traveling.
The boy pulled one of his blankets up around his shoulders, knowing the night's cold was just beginning. Spring had barely reached this part of the land. The nights here were still quite cold, and at times he woke with frost over his shoulders.
He stared into the flames. He listened to Roger's plans for the next day and narrowed his eyes slightly at the following comment. "All that remains of the world is leftovers," he said quietly. What would happen when they all ran out?
Tom blinked quickly, drawing himself from his thoughts. "There's a forest nearby," he added. "I could smell it on the wind this morning. I'll find it tomorrow," he said with a sense of certainty. He'd always liked forests and untouched places. It was nice to know that the world kept turning even in the hidden places humans hadn't tainted with their war.
TAGGED Yanni w/ Roger
|
|
|
|
Post by Roger Gale on Mar 11, 2013 19:14:45 GMT -8
NOW THE TOWERS HAVE FALLEN so much dust in the air All that remains of the world is leftovers. His brother was right—he hit the nail on the head. But Roger chose not to say anything. What was there to say about the truth?
Sluggishly, he tugged at the sling he wore across his body, fetching the smallish pouch at his side. He placed his dagger between his teeth as he rifled through the pack, and he pulled out the worn out sheet he considered a blanket. Ever since he was a kid he knew that even he couldn’t play the tough guy during the colder months—more people around here died of exposure than anything else. Haphazardly, he wrapped the thing around his shoulders and settled down next to his cooking squirrels. He forgot how tired he actually was.
He cast his blue eyes up at his brother, who had mentioned a forest. Roger thought there was some greenery around here, and hearing it from Tom solidified the fact. He knew that look in his kid brother’s eyes—he wanted to explore the place. Luckily, Roger had made plans on looking for it anyway. "All right," Roger said between yawns. After a moment, he smirked and aimed a teasing kick at his brother’s shin. "I bet I'll beat you to it, dork." After his stomach growled, he leaned over and stabbed the squirrel meat with his knife. It would have to be done enough.
Roger narrowed his eyes and stared directly into the sky, where his thoughts often got lost. How long was this going to go on? How could they fix a place that had been so terribly broken? Roger still wasn’t sure if he minded the world’s state of disrepair—after all, he had survived this long. But something about the way Tom searched for strange objects and talked about this wasteland made the older brother wonder what life could be. What could life be like if no one had to scavenge for food, or if the place had a little color in it? Or if people walked around wearing oversized mittens? No use thinking about the impossible, he told himself.
He scratched his jaw. He needed to shave. He needed to wash his shirt. He needed to take a leak. He was going to have mad gas from that squirrel meat. This was the stuff he needed to think about—day to day stuff. Not the dreamland stuff.
Roger rolled onto his side and stared into the fire for a few minutes. Then he laughed about the stupid glove again. He’d be thinking about it for days. With his luck, Roger knew he was going find one of those mittens by chance. "That glove… You’re such a doofus," he chuckled, rolling onto his back again. "Hey. Kick me if any damn snakes come for my blood tonight, will ya?"
He was going to need a surge of energy for exploring in the morning.
(TAGGED) Dark w/Tom
|
|
|
Post by Tomlin Oak on Mar 12, 2013 19:28:32 GMT -8
[atrb=width,450,true][atrb=border,0,true][atrb=bgcolor,#242424]
TONIGHT THE DARKNESS HUNTS AND IT WILL TAKE WHAT IT WILL
A part of him hated how Roger still tended to treat him like a child. They weren't that separate in age -- a meager ten months. But the blue-eyed brother had never been one to let Tom forget his place. On the other hand, a quiet part of him was still grateful for the childish nicknames and insults. It reminded him of when they were children, when Father was still around.
Now that Roger was settling down to sleep, he allowed his mind to roam. He stared deep into the flames once more, wondering yet again what had become of their father. One morning they had simply woken up to find him gone. He'd taken all of his things with him, so it was obvious he'd left by choice. For a few days they'd tried tracking him, but then the trail when dry and, well, that had been seven years ago. At times he could barely remember Father at all. It seemed as if Roger was the only family he'd ever had. Maybe their father was just a dream. Maybe they were faerie children, searching the world for a parent they'd never actually had. Tom dismissed that last thought. Faerie children didn't grow up. He looked away from the fire and down at his callused palms. They looked like a man's hands. In the old times, a child wasn't an adult until he or she reached eighteen. But in the present, it seemed a child became an adult as soon as he could take care of himself all on his own. In that case, he had been an adult for many years.
He slouched low, leaning against his pack and glanced around him at the demolished city. Even asleep, Roger's presence was comforting, but Tom knew sleep would be scarce for him. He didn't like the feel of the city here. He felt the hair on the back of his neck refuse to relax. As soon as the sky started to grow light, he would head off in search of that forest. Roger would surely be not far behind.
With a quiet sigh, Tom pulled his blanket tighter around him and settled in for a long night of thinking. Dawn couldn't come soon enough.
TAGGED Yanni w/ Roger
|
|
|