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Sun Sep 16, 2018 11:08 pm
Silas could not continue on like this.
The close call with the Salsolan pursuer drove him southwest along the coast of the bay, frantic to find some semblance of shelter or safety, paranoid that bounty hunters would follow his tracks. He wove a confounding trail through the forests and rivers and did not sleep for days, until frightening hallucinations visited him in the nights: darting shadows, melting leaves. Disorientation drove him onto the shoreline until his feet found a stony bridge, and he "came to" sodden and shivering after high tide washed over his collapsed form.
The soldier marched dripping southward down the land bridge. His chest hurt when he breathed, almost as much as his feet and joints, but there was no refuge among the rocks. He had to climb the tallest boulders when the tide came in, praying that he could rest, though he was never dry. He thought he could feel his mind breaking again under the pressure of torment.
But he finally reached the other side.
Numb, Silas found himself walking through an old amusement park, his feet halting at the edge of some artificial canal lined with broken concrete. Warped plastic, the remnants of paddle-wheel boats, drifted through the algae. He watched for some time, then coughed wetly.
Fri Sep 28, 2018 6:51 pm
Born and bred into the Eyes as she was, Stella had always questioned—mentally, never verbally—some of the Omniscients’ more stringent policies, such as their harshness towards outsiders alongside the constant reminders to evangelize and spread the knowledge of Omni. Her silent father’s interpreter from a very young age (well, at least since Starling left), Stella observed far more of Omniscient authority in her short year of life than most believers at the Watchtower. If strangers approached their people in just the right way—with respect, down-turned eyes and an earnest curiosity—they were educated and respected. But if they did not, they were strung up in ways Stella merely found creative and unfortunate for the victim, given her muted sense of morbidity.
She always wondered if sending them away would have been enough, but would it have been? They were only going to walk away and die anyway. They hadn’t chosen Omni, after all, and they weren’t to survive without Them. If one rejected Omni, an early death was beyond a blessing. One would not want to witness the alternative.
The young woman and her father had walked the coastline for a time, engaged in a silent but frenetic discussion of the hands. He wanted to make demands of Rosa, to send her to the further northern reaches of that little eastern land to preach alone and test her, but Stella voiced worried qualms and was told to go instead. Nervous and frustrated, she stopped signing, and the two returned to their home-away-from-home in the amusement park, walking distant from one another. Her father, despite it, carried himself no less calm and gracefully than he was known to do.
She paused when his arm stretched across her front abruptly, halting her steps. He pointed ahead at the young man wandering their outskirts (or staggering, rather. What had he been through?), and Stella dared forward without hesitation.
“Who are you? Are you all right?” It was not how the Watchtower sentinels would have greeted him, but they weren’t at the Watchtower anymore. “I’m Stella, and this is my father. Um... Are you here for the Eyes?”
Eyes hooded behind her, the Preacher smiled and folded his hands across his middle.
Sun Nov 04, 2018 12:56 pm