07-01-2014, 03:43 PM
After it was clear that Rune was going to be okay, Seth trucked back out into the night with another hunter. They were going to go back to the park to look for clues as to what happened. Rune had been wearing a camera, but the view was blocked and didn’t show anything useful. There was also the issue of dealing with Jaxen’s car. Since Rune wasn’t able to drive it away like they planned, then it was up to the boys to get it hauled off somewhere. No doubt all the fancy GPS and tracking systems on it needed to be wiped, and even if the data was stored in the cloud, the car wasn’t going to last five minutes in certain parts of town.
----
Rune stirred and rubbed gunk out of the corners of her eyes. Her belly ached and her head was foggy from the drugs, but she tugged up her shirt anyway. Black knots were poked in her skin. Tight stitches held her together. The wound was clean, otherwise.
She plopped her head back like she might go back to sleep, but the hunger pangs were too distracting.
Eyes open, red bangs flopped on the pillow, she peered around her. It was White’s trailer, alright. She’d recognize the room anywhere.
She really, really hoped he was gone for the day when she pushed herself to her feet and immediately went light-headed. The wound and the hunger pangs throbbed together until she couldn’t tell which was worse.
By way of a mirror to make sure her makeup wasn’t run rainbows all over her face, she dragged herself out, what was left of her “entice-Jaxen-party-wear” attire was bloodied, ripped, snagged and otherwise made her feel like a plum idiot. She’d give anything to trade it in for good work-pants and a tank top.
White was in the kitchen; shirt-off. Of. Freakin.’ Course. She watched the way the ridges in his back moved with his arms. The way the waistband sat snug around his hips. Ewe! What was she doing?!? He was like Uncle Seth’s age! Maybe she missed some gunk in her eye? She shook herself out of it and hoped to God that Uncle Seth wasn’t here to see her gawk.
She should say thanks, or something, but the words just didn’t come out. What do you say to the guy that sewed up an unwanted belly-button and who was otherwise going to tell you how much of an awful Atharim you were to get yourself hurt like that? What exactly do you say when his good-for-nothing, cold-as-ice, deceptively-unnerving stare crushed your soul when a simple compliment would sustain you for thirty or forty years?
Nothing. You keep your pie hole shut and say nothing. She finally piped up. “Hey. Got anything to eat?”
She said and held onto the doorframe while she said it. Actually, the doorframe was the one holding her up.
----
Rune stirred and rubbed gunk out of the corners of her eyes. Her belly ached and her head was foggy from the drugs, but she tugged up her shirt anyway. Black knots were poked in her skin. Tight stitches held her together. The wound was clean, otherwise.
She plopped her head back like she might go back to sleep, but the hunger pangs were too distracting.
Eyes open, red bangs flopped on the pillow, she peered around her. It was White’s trailer, alright. She’d recognize the room anywhere.
She really, really hoped he was gone for the day when she pushed herself to her feet and immediately went light-headed. The wound and the hunger pangs throbbed together until she couldn’t tell which was worse.
By way of a mirror to make sure her makeup wasn’t run rainbows all over her face, she dragged herself out, what was left of her “entice-Jaxen-party-wear” attire was bloodied, ripped, snagged and otherwise made her feel like a plum idiot. She’d give anything to trade it in for good work-pants and a tank top.
White was in the kitchen; shirt-off. Of. Freakin.’ Course. She watched the way the ridges in his back moved with his arms. The way the waistband sat snug around his hips. Ewe! What was she doing?!? He was like Uncle Seth’s age! Maybe she missed some gunk in her eye? She shook herself out of it and hoped to God that Uncle Seth wasn’t here to see her gawk.
She should say thanks, or something, but the words just didn’t come out. What do you say to the guy that sewed up an unwanted belly-button and who was otherwise going to tell you how much of an awful Atharim you were to get yourself hurt like that? What exactly do you say when his good-for-nothing, cold-as-ice, deceptively-unnerving stare crushed your soul when a simple compliment would sustain you for thirty or forty years?
Nothing. You keep your pie hole shut and say nothing. She finally piped up. “Hey. Got anything to eat?”
She said and held onto the doorframe while she said it. Actually, the doorframe was the one holding her up.