[Junk XIII] Make a Break (J 6-3)

edited November 2013 in Junkworld XIII
The week passes and you heal to 3 o'clock. The rib is still tender, the rest of your wounds are scabs that are healing. Parfait has been your constant companion, Jack. When you woke up the next morning in the Big Room, you found that she'd removed her paint, and her wig was gone, too. She's been asking questions about the other places frequently, almost always when you're alone. She doesn't want the others to know, which is wise, right?

This is Parfait, sans make-up:
Parfait clean

The warriors have been on a couple raids in this time. Sweet T told you that "those two with you" on the road, they must have made it to Salt because he never saw them again. Your mother has also come to see you a few times a day.

Some of the children have come to you, asking you see their souls. How have you handled that?

Bluebury hasn't bothered you, she avoids you, even at dinner. Oh yeah, dinner. How's that going for you? Have you mentioned anything to Parfait about that? The whole "they aren't cannibals there" thing?

Are you still sleeping with Parfait? How are things going from your end?

Comments

  • edited November 2013
    Parfait has surprised me... I was afraid at first that my earlier sugar coating of the world outside of Wendy territory would scare her, but she has been most insistent on hearing everything I have to know about every place I've visited, it seems... I have been doing more than just vaguely mentioning customs — such as the "they aren't cannibals there thing" you mention — I have been actively trying to instill the culture shock I experienced when I left, to a lesser degree. I would rather she not come if she can't handle the truth of what is out there...

    Of course, I would be disappointed if she did surrender to the fear. I am supplementing that dose of reality with careful reassurances — and insight on how to cope when I am able. I have not been sleeping with Parfait... Not out of distaste, or a lack of desire, but rather because we tried without the assistance of the root — and that was a terrible idea. Oddly enough, I am content to simply talk with her... I am intrigued by what she has concluded of the outside world, and her curiosities therein. If I am going to take this woman with me, I feel I should know her better than I do now...

    I would say it has been going well.

    I have been slowly easing my mother into the fact that my departure looms — but also trying to enjoy the little time we have together... I'm not certain when I will see her next, but I hope it is not in the next life. It brings her some joy to see me "pretend" read the children's souls... I know enough about their demeanor to pick out which ones need to have their ego's fed, and which ones seek a more active imagination. I fear reading some of them deeper than what I can infer from my own mind... Some of these children suffer greatly. It pains me to see them struggle through this difficult life without the guidance of a strong, capable mind.

    I'm not saying that I am that capable mind — merely that the children here mostly raise themselves... It is one of the things I did not miss about this place.
  • Let's pick up with you and Parfait coming into Apple's place. She lives out of a rebuilt U-Haul, a vehicle that's been a part of the tribe as long as you have. Apple lives simply, havnig converted the entire thing into a mobile living space. She's even set up a cast iron stove in the center, there are small chairs set around it.

    She pulls the gate down once you're inside, and she beckons you to sit. She's not wearing the paint, and she looks older, more worn.
    Apple clean

    She offers you each some spiced tea, a brew she's made since you were small. Once you've each sat, exchanged pleasantries and made some small talk, your mother says, "Son, I know you're leaving soon. The road is calling." She doesn't wait for confirmation, she wasn't asking. "Is Parfait going with you? She's stopped wearing the paint, the two of you are together all the time."
  • I remember this place all too well — I see my little corner by the cabin has been left untouched... I would huddle there in fear when the voices would scream in the dead of night. I feel so much older seeing it now... I would not fit there anymore.

    I sip at the tea quietly, as we make small talk, and find my eyes wandering to Parfait every now and then. Perhaps that's why I'm caught off guard when my mother asks of our intentions... I whip my head around to face her, my jaw slightly slack. I narrow my eyes and smirk at her clever conclusion. I cannot hide anything from her, it seems.

    "That is not my decision to make," I whisper, looking to Parfait, "but we've discussed the possibility, yes."
  • I'm going with him," Parfait answers quickly. "I'll help protect him, too, Apple."

    Apple looks at her for a long moment, then says, "My son won't need your protection out there. You'll need his. Jack, are you ready for that? I can hold her here if you don't want her to come."
  • I am certain I want her to come. What I've learned of her this past week has endeared her to me. Only the child complicates things... Both in that I would never wish for a child to be raised here, and that taking Parfait with me ensures the child will be leading a double life — neither of which would truly accept them. This is not a life for a child, but if I can just find a place where they belong – even if I do not – then I will have done my part for them.

    I shake my head, "that won't be necessary. I have spent years preparing for this... I will protect her."
  • Apple looks deep into your eyes, Jack. Then she looks at Parfait, who is unable to hold your mothers gaze. She looks back to you and says, "You should leave tonight then. Most of the tribe is drunk or frakking. I've got a bike outside. Take it. Its yours."
  • Confidence... That is something we'll have to work on. I reach over and take Parfait's hand in mind, "Parfait, my dear... Is there anything you need to prepare? If we're going to leave tonight, then you should ready yourself for the road. It may be a long while before we're able to catch our breath."
  • Parfait thinks for a moment, "I've got most everything ready to go, in a little bag. I didn't bring it here, though." She rises to leave, and will if you don't stop her.
  • I nod, "always have it with you. Being on the road means you must travel light, and keep the things you need close. I'll be waiting here for you when you're ready." Then I'll let her go.

    Once she's gone, I look to my mother and feel uneasy... "She is with child," I whisper, "I know it."
  • Apple holds a breath for a moment, then sighs lightly. "Have you told anyone else? Does she know?"
  • I shake my head, "it would only make her departure all the more scandalous. I have not told anyone... Even her." I pause a moment, considering the best way to say this... "The voices whispered secrets to me about her — about her soul. They say we will be hunted, and that she will slow me down; but I know the truth, mother — she does not belong here. She is like me." I look to her with certainty, "I cannot let her suffer here, mother... I must protect her."
  • Without pause, Apple says, "If you leave now, they won't know she's pregnant. I'll stop any who try to come after you." She rises from her chair and walks over to open a drawer. From inside, she pulls out something wrapped in a leather cloth, and returns to present it to you, "take this with you. Protect her, and my grandchild."

    This is what she hands you:
    Pulse Rifle

    "Your father carried this. He took it off of a spacefolk soldier when I was giving birth to you." She huffs a little laugh like you were the bigger fight, "It's yours now. There are three magazines left, but I hear Redcliffe has more. If it's no good to you, then sell it. It should bring you some good jingle."


  • My jaw drops at the sight of that thing. Good gods that thing is massive! Mother's told me bits and pieces of the events leading up to my birth, but she never mentioned this before! ... I suppose I should get some more ammo then. And practice my shooting.

    I take it and look it over a moment. This is an impressive piece of machinery! I set it down against the side of the chair, and stand to pull my mother into an embrace. "I don't know how to thank you..."
  • Apple meets your embrace, putting arms around you and squeezing your warmly. "Be strong. Protect your child. Bring them to see me some day. That's what you owe me, Jack."

    There's a soft rap at the side of the truck. It's Parfait. "I'm ready to go. Can you ride, Jack? I can... if you don't know how."
  • I pull back from the embrace after a moment to meet her gaze, and nod confidently. I don't need to say anything — she knows I will make good on my debt, one day. I pause a moment, drinking in the sight of my Mother when I hear the rap on the truck's side — burning her into my memory as she is, so that I do not forget her again. I give her another hug, and a tender kiss on the cheek before smiling, grabbing the gun, and slipping out the door into the cool night air.

    I find Parfait, and whisper, "I can ride. Come quickly."
  • Parfait grins, "I do, doncha remember?" She snickers, then follows you over to the bike. It's a rice burner, in decent shape, really. No blood or gore or skulls on it, no clown drek, either.
    New Bike

    Apple says, "Treat her well, and she'll do you right, son." You're rather sure she means the bike. Parfait thinks she means her.

    Parfait starts putting her stuff in the saddle bags and getting ready to go. She says, "Thanks, Apple."
  • Oh, my dear... I know just the place for a sense of humor like yours. I help Parfait up onto the bike, and let her believe whatever she likes about my mother's comment. I, on the other hand, give my mother a knowing look. "Yes, thank you mother." I give her another kiss, and hop on the bike after Parfait... Then I lift the kickstand, and we ride off into the night together.
  • --END SCENE--
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