｢ FESTERING / P; CAT ｣

[TYDEUS]

[align=center][div style="width: 500px; text-align: justify; font-family: helvetica; font-size: 9pt; line-height: 1.4;"]Tydeus would have preferred that the world fell in fire. That would have been a fitting end to their world, not because it was poetic, but because it was cleansing. Burning away the sins. He doesn't believe in any savior or salvation, the same way he doesn't believe in damnation. Nobody could be behind this, whether or not they claim to have a kind heart. In the end, the real end, he supposes it doesn't matter all that much. They would be dead. Why do humans care about something so far in the future anyway? They'll be long gone before that, their bones returned to the earth and slowly falling apart, if not outright dust. It's a morbid curiosity, maybe. A need to know how those they will never live to love will fare. Will their children's great grandchildren live life fully and kindly? The answer, however grim, was typically no. But people were chaotic, uncertain things. Part of him still holds some hope for the future, just because people always found a way to survive.

This moment, though — him and Cat — maybe they weren't so lucky.

Though the other doesn't look at him, Tyd still casts a scathing glance their way before pushing himself off of the wall. He keeps his hand loose around the gun now, trying not to aggravate the bruises and scrapes already gathered on that hand. He hadn't been bitten, thank god for that, but running away from those things still wasn't all that easy. "That honestly sounds like a better option right now," the young man spits out softly. "I'm gonna look for something useful, if you don't mind." With that, he skirts past Cat without another look at them, free hand already brushing past mostly-empty shelves. As this stuff spread, people had turned quickly to looting and fighting over scraps like dogs. They sprung up in packs and tore places to shreds. This one was no exception. He scoffs and kicks at an empty can of — something, maybe beans? "Could probably find a use for that."

[CATALYST]

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[TYDEUS]

[align=center][div style="width: 500px; text-align: justify; font-family: helvetica; font-size: 9pt; line-height: 1.4;"]The end of the universe was supposed to be cold and dark. Things were spreading apart too fast for there to be a giant collapse and rebirth — no, they would die slow and cold and tired, empty planets floating in empty space. But humanity never went quietly in anything, and the end of their little planet was no different. One day it would be swallowed up by fire as the sun expanded, but for now, they fought and bled and died with courage. It would have been easier if they all gave up. Still painful, but faster, not as... hopeless. There are days when he would prefer to lay down and give up too, and maybe in another world he would have. One where there wasn't a collar around his throat and steady hands pushing him forward. He talks about it like it's a comfort, like he owes those hands something. Maybe he does, but he pays back that debt with his life. These days he jumps at commands like it's nothing. People think it's weak, and maybe — again with maybe, does he know nothing for certain? — they're right.

But it's survival. That's all anyone in this hell of a universe wants anymore.

A small, scarred hand scrubs over tired eyes and Tyd presses his back against the wall of the gas station, the other wrapped tightly around the gun he carries. He's running low on bullets (of course he is, they weren't supposed to run into any fucking trouble), and the garotte typically gets him a little too close for comfort. Bones would be pissed if something happened. (Maybe.) For now, though, they get a break. Everything has slowed and settled, though silence is uneasy. He glances towards the person he's stuck with — the one goddamn person, of everyone in their group — and frowns. "A gas station. Great choice."

[CATALYST]

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