04-13-2019, 11:28 PM
[align=center][div style="width: 430px; text-align: justify; font-family: calibri; font-size: 8pt; color: black; line-height: 22px;"][ hella long, the last two paragraphs are the only important parts though, the rest just explain who fletcher ~is~ ]
you'd think fletcher would be used to it all by now.
the blackouts began before she was born, beating her to this world two years. springfield, they'd had power for longer, right up until she was twelve. she'd had twelve years hearing about it, about the electricity dwindling, going out slowly but surely. nearly half of her life, she'd lived in the darkness, off of solar panels and candles. it'd been so long, she could hardly remember what power was like. she could hardly remember the buzz of an air conditioner, the his of a television that had lost power, the greasy faces of news casters as they read off teleprompters. she'd all but forgotten what a growling car felt like, what the hospital looked at it's peak. she'd never known the world beyond springfield, born in the hospital, raised in the little off white house just off south main street, with the massive oak tree in the yard and the now rusted swing set.
but that world was gone, and the memories were fading with it. memories of her parents, long since deceased. memories of her old bedroom, of using too much hair spray and sneaking her mom's lipstick before school. she could hardly remember classes, or her parents arguing at dinner, or any of her uncles, save for anton. no, for so long her world had been anton, the closest thing to a father she had anymore, and the walls of the hospital.
and he'd done good, in his right. when her parents died, he took her in, he protected her with his life. he taught her stupid shit like physics and trigonometry, even when she was the most restless student. he taught her things from his profession, too, things like how to perform cpr and how to find a vein for an iv, but he let her find her own way, even though it meant a rifle slung over her shoulder and her knuckles calloused from years of assaulting a vinyl bag. she knew he hated it, hated letting her go off on patrols and hunker down on the roof for hours to keep watch, but he let her do it, he let her find herself, and she loved him for it.
you'd think fletcher would be used to it all by now, but she wasn't. when she woke up, she always had a shock, and it took a minute for her to realize she wasn't in her bedroom back home. when she patrolled by her old school, she felt strange, not wearing her backpack. when she visited her parents graves, it still didn't feel real, her being alive without them.
once, her uncle had asked her why. she'd been fifteen, trying to convince anton to let her tag along on some guard shifts, and he'd sat her down and asked her why she wanted to be a guard. why she wanted to punch things, shoot people, protect the world. she hadn't known at that time, but she'd figured it out eventually. losing it all, her entire life, she'd felt helpless. the power was gone, school was no longer in session, her parents were six feet in the ground, and she hadn't been able to stop it. but when she worked, when she trained, she felt like she had some degree of it back. when she swung at the bag hanging from the ceiling, when she took aim, when she roamed the streets, she felt like she'd taken some degree of control back in her life.
and that was exactly what she was doing that afternoon. she'd had morning patrols that were uneventful, she had another patrol in a few hours, but in the time between, the brunette found herself in the gym, clad in only a sports bra and some matching leggings. the windows were open to provide a degree of draft in the heat, but she still sweated, moving quickly as she swung her fists and legs at the dummy, every hit landing with a thud. four years, she'd been working the guard shift, and she was without a doubt talented, fearsome at even nineteen. she had plenty of ways to go, but anyone who saw her, swinging and kicking, they'd understand her calling would have never been in medical.
after some time, though, she stopped, panting, and leaned against the dummy, listening to the silence and her breathing within it. she heard the gym door creak open, a few feet behind her, but she didn't move, too consumed in her moment of resting.
you'd think fletcher would be used to it all by now.
the blackouts began before she was born, beating her to this world two years. springfield, they'd had power for longer, right up until she was twelve. she'd had twelve years hearing about it, about the electricity dwindling, going out slowly but surely. nearly half of her life, she'd lived in the darkness, off of solar panels and candles. it'd been so long, she could hardly remember what power was like. she could hardly remember the buzz of an air conditioner, the his of a television that had lost power, the greasy faces of news casters as they read off teleprompters. she'd all but forgotten what a growling car felt like, what the hospital looked at it's peak. she'd never known the world beyond springfield, born in the hospital, raised in the little off white house just off south main street, with the massive oak tree in the yard and the now rusted swing set.
but that world was gone, and the memories were fading with it. memories of her parents, long since deceased. memories of her old bedroom, of using too much hair spray and sneaking her mom's lipstick before school. she could hardly remember classes, or her parents arguing at dinner, or any of her uncles, save for anton. no, for so long her world had been anton, the closest thing to a father she had anymore, and the walls of the hospital.
and he'd done good, in his right. when her parents died, he took her in, he protected her with his life. he taught her stupid shit like physics and trigonometry, even when she was the most restless student. he taught her things from his profession, too, things like how to perform cpr and how to find a vein for an iv, but he let her find her own way, even though it meant a rifle slung over her shoulder and her knuckles calloused from years of assaulting a vinyl bag. she knew he hated it, hated letting her go off on patrols and hunker down on the roof for hours to keep watch, but he let her do it, he let her find herself, and she loved him for it.
you'd think fletcher would be used to it all by now, but she wasn't. when she woke up, she always had a shock, and it took a minute for her to realize she wasn't in her bedroom back home. when she patrolled by her old school, she felt strange, not wearing her backpack. when she visited her parents graves, it still didn't feel real, her being alive without them.
once, her uncle had asked her why. she'd been fifteen, trying to convince anton to let her tag along on some guard shifts, and he'd sat her down and asked her why she wanted to be a guard. why she wanted to punch things, shoot people, protect the world. she hadn't known at that time, but she'd figured it out eventually. losing it all, her entire life, she'd felt helpless. the power was gone, school was no longer in session, her parents were six feet in the ground, and she hadn't been able to stop it. but when she worked, when she trained, she felt like she had some degree of it back. when she swung at the bag hanging from the ceiling, when she took aim, when she roamed the streets, she felt like she'd taken some degree of control back in her life.
and that was exactly what she was doing that afternoon. she'd had morning patrols that were uneventful, she had another patrol in a few hours, but in the time between, the brunette found herself in the gym, clad in only a sports bra and some matching leggings. the windows were open to provide a degree of draft in the heat, but she still sweated, moving quickly as she swung her fists and legs at the dummy, every hit landing with a thud. four years, she'd been working the guard shift, and she was without a doubt talented, fearsome at even nineteen. she had plenty of ways to go, but anyone who saw her, swinging and kicking, they'd understand her calling would have never been in medical.
after some time, though, she stopped, panting, and leaned against the dummy, listening to the silence and her breathing within it. she heard the gym door creak open, a few feet behind her, but she didn't move, too consumed in her moment of resting.
[align=center]
[align=center]
[color=#BCD8E4][shadow=black,left]a weekend on a boat in california
memes available upon request  van#5054