Participants:
| Scene Title | Ashes In The Rubble |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | After losing their place to live, two homeless teenagers plot their next steps. |
| Date | February 9, 2020 |
Breathing in a sharp inhale meant to be steadying, to provide strength, all Roman feels is hungry— the angry void of an empty stomach riled by the shift in abdominal muscles. Closing his eyes, he sighs that same breath out and leans his head back against the brick wall behind him. Then with a grit of his teeth he bounces his head back against the wall.
"Damn it," he mutters. The fire burning nearby his feet pops and brings him to look in its direction. For all its noisiness, it was growing low.
It was hungry, too.
"This fucking sucks, man." he complains into the air, and the dark replies by burning cherry red. A cigarette held by his friend— his brother— glows in the evening gloom.
"It does suck," Evran agrees evenly. "We left so much behind, we're gonna have to start from scratch all over again. It'll take months to get back where we were before, and we don't have a safe space to store it in 'til it's ready, now."
Roman shakes his head before he finds his voice, feet scuffing on the ground as he shifts the tent of his legs. He sniffs, gloved hands flexing while his forearms rest on top of his knees. "That's not what I mean, Ev. What I mean is, this—" One hand lifts up to wildly gesture around the rubble they're taking shelter in. "This sucks. We're back to square one. No roof, no food. Shit, we can't even go to the shelters in town anymore after—"
"Hey." Evran challenges him, eyes narrowing in the dark. He gestures with his cigarette. "That's on you, man."
Head ducking, Roman runs his gesturing hand back through his hair, letting it hang off the back of his neck. He says nothing.
Cigarette smoke is breathed away into the night sky, carrying Evran's gaze with it. He thinks in the silence the ruins afford them both. It's cold, and he hates sleeping in the cold, but it's not going to get any better. Frowning, he pushes to his feet to grab another hunk of old beam to throw into the fire. "You know…"
"Hm?"
Evran pinches the cigarette between his lips, mumbling while he grabs the wood, "That woman. The one from the meetings." Looking back to Roman, he waits until recognition dawns and he nods in return. "She said if we ever needed anything to get in touch with her." The burning pile sends up red sparks as he lobs the wood onto the fire. "Maybe you're right— maybe it's too much to start from scratch again." Threading the cigarette between two fingers, he suggests, "Maybe we don't have to handle things alone going forward. Things are different now, we're different now. People will stop shoving us to the sidelines, telling us that we're just kids."
Roman glances sidelong at Evran, leaning back against the wall. His brow furrows.
"We join up with our brothers and sisters in our goal for a Pure Earth," Evran proposes.
The fire crackles again while Roman considers that. He breathes in, lifting his head.
"We're the children of the ashes, Ev," is neither agreement or rejection of the suggestion. "The ones left behind after the blaze of war. The ones willing to burn the rest down…"
"—and sow the seeds of a new, Pure Earth."
For a moment, silence reigns between them both. Then Roman pushes himself to his feet, shoving his hands into the pockets of his old, scuffed jacket. His pensiveness breaks, replaced with a small grin. "Yeah," he admits with that forced smile. "Yeah, it'd be nice to be back among our people." He sighs and looks back in the direction of the Safe Zone, feet shifting to to turn him entirely that way. With a narrowing of his eyes at the distant lights, he asks, "What was that woman's name again?"
"Sahara," Evran recalls. "She said her name was Sahara Jackson."