Post by Alastair Holgrave on Sept 9, 2016 22:33:49 GMT -5
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T he plains that surrounded Exurbia were a sight in the daylight, but something about the night transformed them. The harsh light of day was replaced with what could only be described as a ghostly glow-- though it wasn't so much because there were ghosts. Perhaps...it was because it looked so earthly. And the smell in the air was so familiar. Alastair smelled the green pastures of the farming town he'd grown up in, the gentle sweep of air that wafted from somewhere cool and fresh and new. And sitting atop one of the makeshift buildings, his knife weighing on the right side of his hip, he felt like he was just in another one of his tree houses, avoiding his home like the plague. Funny how much he despised it when it had been right there...but now that his hometown was probably nothing more than ash and toxic waste-- there was an unexplainable dull pain in his chest. It hurt the most at night when the colonists quieted down, and he was left to his own thoughts; when people stopped looking him as the source of jokes (and perhaps, the source of a joke). When people forgot that he existed for a few moments. It was nice, it wasn't so nice-- but by sunrise, the pain would always fade and he would slink away to get some rest before the next night. A wind stirred up the dirt and grass around him, dragging chilly fingers through Alastair's coat. He clenched his teeth to keep them from chattering, flipping up the collar of his coat and tucking his arms around himself. Even like this, bundled so that nothing more than his forehead and shock of hair showed-- his eyes shown out, scanning and scraping the horizon as if it would yield some great new monster for him to... To what. It wasn't like he could shoot it. All he had was a paltry knife and a can of cherry coke. And using one of them would be breaking a promise-- he wasn't willing to throw the guilt of a broken promise into the ugly mix of his midnight thoughts. So, Alastair hunkered down and kept watch. The whistling sound of the wind eventually broke, though Alastair didn't know how much time had passed, and as he turned, he made out a faint figure approaching the compound. It was only when he'd struggled to his feet that fear leapt into his heart. It looked humanoid. Not only that, but there were a few dark smudges following in its wake. For a few silent moments, Alastair listened to the sound of his heart thumping before he turned and swung down from his perch. As soon as his boots hit the gravel and sand, his blood had simmered down. Human or not, it would need identification before entering the colony-- especially this late. Best case scenario, it was just a hunter returning. Worst? Well...he didn't want to think about that. As soon as the figure drew close enough, Alastair raised his hand. "Halt! Identification!" He called out, at once supremely aware of how much that sounded like a line from a movie and proud that he could pull it off without laughing. His humor settled, however, as he recognized the woman. Were those freckles? It was too dark to tell anyways.
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