It's okay. [ Melissa rolls her right shoulder with a little wince, but at least she can move it now. ] Not a hundred percent. But enough.
[ Enough for her to defend herself if she has to, or pick up a weapon, or... you know. Whatever needs to be done.
As they approach the stream, Melissa sighs. She's not looking forward to sticking her hands in that water. It's going to be fucking freezing, but once everything ices over, they're going to miss being able to do laundry here. What she says next could be referring just to that, or to all of this. ]
[ All of it. The way her research trip got derailed. Her boyfriend killed. Kodiak dead by her own hand. Human flesh consumed because she has to survive this and get back home. And that's only what she's been through. These kids have been here for over a year. Hannah can't imagine the weight of the despair they bear.
She doesn't hesitate to plunge her hands in the frigid water and start to scrub fabric. The bite of it on her skin shifts her focus to the present. There's no point wallowing, and she has to be sharp so she can report back to Shauna when she and Melissa come back with the cleaner-than-before clothes. And yeah... this fucking sucks. ]
Almost less painful to just use snow, but running water is such a valuable resource.
[ That feels stupid to say. Of course Melissa knows that. They're out here by themselves, and they should make the most of it. God, Shauna's paranoia is contagious. ]
[ She submerges a dirt-brown pair of khakis that used to be Travis's, or maybe Coach's, not that it matters much anymore. The water is cold enough to make her hiss out a surprised breath as it hits her hands, but after a few seconds the shock settles into a more comfortable numbness. ]
Not good. [ Melissa sighs and stares down at the water. "Not good" kind of undersells it, huh? It feels more and more like all of them are trapped in their own private miseries. It's not that people are complaining, it's that everyone's gotten too quiet, looking inward instead.
At night, she and Gen whisper to each other about the stuff they miss from home, mostly. Neither of them have said anything like it out loud yet, but Melissa still remembers the conversation they had last winter, after Crystal went missing. It wouldn't be the worst thing...
Except this year they aren't starving. So when one of them finally does say it, it won't be because of that. ]
Everyone's afraid to talk, you know? [ God, just look at the way she and Hannah had to walk in silence until they were out of earshot. ]
[ Hannah knows. Nobody wants to oppose Shauna, who has Lottie's blessing and Taissa's support. And, at least in appearance, Hannah's loyalty. In trying to save her own life, Hannah has made herself someone to keep away from. It makes it easier for her to observe the kids and learn about their dynamics, but it's also terribly lonely.
At night she sometimes goes to Edwin's grave and sits there, silent as she tries to parse her thoughts and make them into words she wouldn't speak into the world even if she had them. It's too dangerous. She is the outsider. If she must be separate from them, she needs to be the one they risk sending out to find help.
(Mostly, all she comes up with is apology after apology. She hears her grandmother talk about the sin of pride and apologizes again, not to a god she isn't even sure is real, but to the man who saw beauty, not chaos, in her past.)
She scrubs at a splotch of mud in a pair of jeans. She's not afraid to say this, at least. ]
[ With zero need to pause and think about it, because she's had this settled since they all thought they were going to hike out: ] Fries into a milkshake poured onto a quarter pounder. And a Sprite.
[ They're not starving yet but the thought of real food covered in grease and salt and sugar makes her stomach clench like a fist. Below that, the anticipation of game running out as the weather gets worse makes for a sickening combination. They have the goat and the ducks, but they're fooling themselves thinking that little amount of food is going to get them through the winter. (And besides, what are they going to feed the animals?)
Melissa stares down at her hands as they turn red from the chill of the water. She can feel herself gearing up to ask about something that would get them both in a lot of fucking trouble if someone overheard it. ]
Hey, Hannah? I know you don't know where we are, but do you remember a general direction you went in to get out here?
[ Actually, she keeps thinking about that night, and the days leading up to it, as if she can will her memory to be perfect; but the fact is that the more she tries to remember, the less sure she is that she's recalling correctly. Those days have a hazy quality to them, like video tapes that have begun to fade. She shakes her head, Hannah remembers best that awful night, which comes with only one point that might be helpful to them. ]
Not really. It wasn't a straight path. We depended on Kodi. [ Too much, it turns out. ] All I can say for sure is that, the whole day before we found you, Edwin thought we should go south, but we didn't.
[ And she had trusted their guide, somehow still the cavalier young kid who took big risks because she'd been so lucky up until then.
No, that wasn't right. She had every reason to trust Kodiak, to lean on his expertise. He'd predicted rain on a perfectly sunny day, for fuck's sake. Even if it hadn't been kind of fun to mess with Edwin a little bit, she would've made the same choices. Right? Yes, of course. Of course she would have. ]
I know that's not very helpful. I'm sorry.
[ If apologies could fix things, the world would be a lot better. Yet the words hang in the frigid air, the sound of running water wrapping them up and carrying them downstream. Nothing has changed. Winter will fall upon them like a prison. Shauna will run the show like the bitter cold that awaits them.
Except there must be so much pain beneath that mask. Hannah knows how much power comes from crafting a persona and forcing oneself to live it, to be that person because anything else would see you fall apart, and that is something that can never happen. Not in the unkind environment of high school, and certainly not in the impassive brutality of the wilderness. ]
No, [ Melissa hastens to say, shaking her head. ] Don't be sorry, it's not your fault. I was just thinking... I don't know. Forget it.
[ Thinking about running. It shouldn't be a surprise. Melissa's convinced everyone is thinking it, even if they aren't saying it out loud. If the weather hadn't turned cold right when everything had gone to shit, she's pretty sure people would have already tried again even with Kodiak dead.
As things are now, it's only a low impulse, not urgent yet. The necessity of remaining a big group is still stronger, even fractured as it is. Maybe after the winter. But if things get bad enough, they might have to go sooner, even in the snow. She's waiting to see what happens. ]
How's Shauna? [ Melissa looks at Hannah, watching her face for the truth regardless of the answer she gets. Does she ever mention me? is sitting on the tip of her tongue, even though she knows the answer is probably no. The two of them just avoid each other and stare from across the fire or from the outskirts of group meetings, looking away before they can get caught doing it. ]
[ Ah, heedless youth. Hannah had been that way too, until she pushed too far and was forced to skip ahead to adulthood. All she wants to do right now is hug Mel and say nothing, but she can't risk fracturing their friendship, frail and uncertain as it is. ]
I think she's scared, [ Hannah says, her voice low, sympathy twisting up her insides for Shauna, for Mel, for all of these kids who've been through so much. If only she knew that Shauna also knows what it's like to carry a life inside you, Hannah would know just how right she is.
Or maybe not. Either way, she feels for them all, and she recognizes the look of emotional walls to keep one's fragile core safe. ]
She's suspicious of everyone, all the time. Especially me. We don't really talk. I'm not an advisor; I'm an enforcer. [ A tool. A symbol. An adult has ceded authority to a kid. ] Sometimes she has me stand guard and goes off by herself. I don't know where she goes, and I don't ask.
[ Mel knows where Shauna goes, and the look on her face must be one of recognition, but despite everything Shauna has done to them she still doesn't feel comfortable airing her private trauma out to someone else. Even knowing that, of all of them, Hannah is the one who can probably relate to it the most.
Part of it is fear—she trusts Hannah as much as she can, but if Shauna found out Melissa told her about this, of all things, Melissa isn't sure what she would do. The other part of it is selfish. She's the only one aside from Shauna who knows where the baby's grave is now. Shauna must, on some level, trust her to keep it a secret. ]
She always has been. Even before the crash, when she was with Jackie all the time. She was like, quieter than everyone else. [ Melissa hadn't ever really talked to Shauna before the crash, other than when she had to during practice or games, but she'd always felt drawn to that loneliness in her because it was something she felt inside herself too. ]
[ That's not surprising. Teenagers learn quick how to survive until they can figure themselves out. Confidence tends to come later, with time and the ability to look back after having learned and experienced more. The trouble with that for these teens is that what they're experiencing is far beyond the norm, and the lessons they're learning aren't the ones they would've come across in their first year of college.
She doesn't say, "I know you're all feeling lonely, in your own way, because I felt it too, and I feel it now again." Even Tai and Van, ostensibly still happy together, suffered a shakeup to their relationship when Van was ready to follow Kodi home but Tai wanted to stay. ]
I wish I could help. Actually help.
[ Any of them. All of them. Hannah wants to go home and get all of them home too, but she also wants to get to know them, give them advice if they want. She has ten years on them but isn't so far removed as to forget what it's like at their age. She wants to be someone they can trust, someone who inspired peace and confidence. Instead, she's playing cop for Shauna, who's too afraid to be honest for fear of falling apart. ]
We're gonna make it through this winter. And then... maybe spring will make everyone feel hopeful enough to try leaving. Or at least moving camp.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
[ Enough for her to defend herself if she has to, or pick up a weapon, or... you know. Whatever needs to be done.
As they approach the stream, Melissa sighs. She's not looking forward to sticking her hands in that water. It's going to be fucking freezing, but once everything ices over, they're going to miss being able to do laundry here. What she says next could be referring just to that, or to all of this. ]
This sucks.
no subject
[ All of it. The way her research trip got derailed. Her boyfriend killed. Kodiak dead by her own hand. Human flesh consumed because she has to survive this and get back home. And that's only what she's been through. These kids have been here for over a year. Hannah can't imagine the weight of the despair they bear.
She doesn't hesitate to plunge her hands in the frigid water and start to scrub fabric. The bite of it on her skin shifts her focus to the present. There's no point wallowing, and she has to be sharp so she can report back to Shauna when she and Melissa come back with the cleaner-than-before clothes. And yeah... this fucking sucks. ]
Almost less painful to just use snow, but running water is such a valuable resource.
[ That feels stupid to say. Of course Melissa knows that. They're out here by themselves, and they should make the most of it. God, Shauna's paranoia is contagious. ]
How's morale? Like... really.
no subject
Not good. [ Melissa sighs and stares down at the water. "Not good" kind of undersells it, huh? It feels more and more like all of them are trapped in their own private miseries. It's not that people are complaining, it's that everyone's gotten too quiet, looking inward instead.
At night, she and Gen whisper to each other about the stuff they miss from home, mostly. Neither of them have said anything like it out loud yet, but Melissa still remembers the conversation they had last winter, after Crystal went missing. It wouldn't be the worst thing...
Except this year they aren't starving. So when one of them finally does say it, it won't be because of that. ]
Everyone's afraid to talk, you know? [ God, just look at the way she and Hannah had to walk in silence until they were out of earshot. ]
no subject
[ Hannah knows. Nobody wants to oppose Shauna, who has Lottie's blessing and Taissa's support. And, at least in appearance, Hannah's loyalty. In trying to save her own life, Hannah has made herself someone to keep away from. It makes it easier for her to observe the kids and learn about their dynamics, but it's also terribly lonely.
At night she sometimes goes to Edwin's grave and sits there, silent as she tries to parse her thoughts and make them into words she wouldn't speak into the world even if she had them. It's too dangerous. She is the outsider. If she must be separate from them, she needs to be the one they risk sending out to find help.
(Mostly, all she comes up with is apology after apology. She hears her grandmother talk about the sin of pride and apologizes again, not to a god she isn't even sure is real, but to the man who saw beauty, not chaos, in her past.)
She scrubs at a splotch of mud in a pair of jeans. She's not afraid to say this, at least. ]
I want chicken nuggets. With ketchup. So bad.
no subject
[ They're not starving yet but the thought of real food covered in grease and salt and sugar makes her stomach clench like a fist. Below that, the anticipation of game running out as the weather gets worse makes for a sickening combination. They have the goat and the ducks, but they're fooling themselves thinking that little amount of food is going to get them through the winter. (And besides, what are they going to feed the animals?)
Melissa stares down at her hands as they turn red from the chill of the water. She can feel herself gearing up to ask about something that would get them both in a lot of fucking trouble if someone overheard it. ]
Hey, Hannah? I know you don't know where we are, but do you remember a general direction you went in to get out here?
no subject
Not really. It wasn't a straight path. We depended on Kodi. [ Too much, it turns out. ] All I can say for sure is that, the whole day before we found you, Edwin thought we should go south, but we didn't.
[ And she had trusted their guide, somehow still the cavalier young kid who took big risks because she'd been so lucky up until then.
No, that wasn't right. She had every reason to trust Kodiak, to lean on his expertise. He'd predicted rain on a perfectly sunny day, for fuck's sake. Even if it hadn't been kind of fun to mess with Edwin a little bit, she would've made the same choices. Right? Yes, of course. Of course she would have. ]
I know that's not very helpful. I'm sorry.
[ If apologies could fix things, the world would be a lot better. Yet the words hang in the frigid air, the sound of running water wrapping them up and carrying them downstream. Nothing has changed. Winter will fall upon them like a prison. Shauna will run the show like the bitter cold that awaits them.
Except there must be so much pain beneath that mask. Hannah knows how much power comes from crafting a persona and forcing oneself to live it, to be that person because anything else would see you fall apart, and that is something that can never happen. Not in the unkind environment of high school, and certainly not in the impassive brutality of the wilderness. ]
no subject
[ Thinking about running. It shouldn't be a surprise. Melissa's convinced everyone is thinking it, even if they aren't saying it out loud. If the weather hadn't turned cold right when everything had gone to shit, she's pretty sure people would have already tried again even with Kodiak dead.
As things are now, it's only a low impulse, not urgent yet. The necessity of remaining a big group is still stronger, even fractured as it is. Maybe after the winter. But if things get bad enough, they might have to go sooner, even in the snow. She's waiting to see what happens. ]
How's Shauna? [ Melissa looks at Hannah, watching her face for the truth regardless of the answer she gets. Does she ever mention me? is sitting on the tip of her tongue, even though she knows the answer is probably no. The two of them just avoid each other and stare from across the fire or from the outskirts of group meetings, looking away before they can get caught doing it. ]
no subject
I think she's scared, [ Hannah says, her voice low, sympathy twisting up her insides for Shauna, for Mel, for all of these kids who've been through so much. If only she knew that Shauna also knows what it's like to carry a life inside you, Hannah would know just how right she is.
Or maybe not. Either way, she feels for them all, and she recognizes the look of emotional walls to keep one's fragile core safe. ]
She's suspicious of everyone, all the time. Especially me. We don't really talk. I'm not an advisor; I'm an enforcer. [ A tool. A symbol. An adult has ceded authority to a kid. ] Sometimes she has me stand guard and goes off by herself. I don't know where she goes, and I don't ask.
She seems so lonely.
don't look at meeee this is so late
Part of it is fear—she trusts Hannah as much as she can, but if Shauna found out Melissa told her about this, of all things, Melissa isn't sure what she would do. The other part of it is selfish. She's the only one aside from Shauna who knows where the baby's grave is now. Shauna must, on some level, trust her to keep it a secret. ]
She always has been. Even before the crash, when she was with Jackie all the time. She was like, quieter than everyone else. [ Melissa hadn't ever really talked to Shauna before the crash, other than when she had to during practice or games, but she'd always felt drawn to that loneliness in her because it was something she felt inside herself too. ]
no subject
She doesn't say, "I know you're all feeling lonely, in your own way, because I felt it too, and I feel it now again." Even Tai and Van, ostensibly still happy together, suffered a shakeup to their relationship when Van was ready to follow Kodi home but Tai wanted to stay. ]
I wish I could help. Actually help.
[ Any of them. All of them. Hannah wants to go home and get all of them home too, but she also wants to get to know them, give them advice if they want. She has ten years on them but isn't so far removed as to forget what it's like at their age. She wants to be someone they can trust, someone who inspired peace and confidence. Instead, she's playing cop for Shauna, who's too afraid to be honest for fear of falling apart. ]
We're gonna make it through this winter. And then... maybe spring will make everyone feel hopeful enough to try leaving. Or at least moving camp.