Participants:
Perceptional Fiction:
| Scene Title | The Uninvited |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | Aaron perceives the arrival of someone terribly out of place. Strangely, he doesn't find it at all peculiar, but it's only a matter of time before things get awkward. |
| Date | May 16, 2010 |
Pacing like a crazy person is something Aaron excels at, and one of the benefits of it is that nobody bothers you. After all, what sane person would walk up to someone pacing and muttering to themselves— especially when some of what is muttered sounds an awful lot like profanity?
As he paces, however, he hears something. It's not something he expects, and after he hears it, he's almost certain he imagined it. It almost sounded like a knock. It takes him a moment to notice that he's stopped pacing, and he looks around to the children and the other adults or not-quite adults around the place. Nobody else seems to have noticed anything, and yet he hears the sound again.
Slowly, he creeps up to the door and tugs it open a bit. His eyes touch the ground first, where they find a tall pair of brown leather boots that snake up recognizably shapely legs that make his gaze snap immediately upwards.
"Peyton?" Confusion reigns. "What— how are you here?"
"Cat dropped me off."
"Where is she?" He peeks out the door, looking behind to see nothing but vague tracks.
"She had other things to do."
He pulls her inside by the wrist. "It's freezing out, are you crazy?" But whatever emotions he's feeling about the moment of recklessness, he throws his arms around her.
Tears of happiness flood both of their eyes for a moment before Peyton says, "There was no power anywhere else, and no phones. I had to come here."
"You shouldn't be here. It's not safe, it's— it's all gotten so fucked up," he says, leading her away from the doorway and somewhere they can have some privacy. The corner of some hallway, bottom of the stairs. By rights, they should all be in the basement. All of the evolved anyway.
"What do you mean it's not safe?"
"It's just not." He doesn't want to tell her about Gillian. It's hard enough for him to bear the idea that she may not live to see another weekend. The fact she might not live to see the end of this endless winter. Of course, the rest of them might not, either, but at least they have better chances.
"What aren't you telling me? Where's Gillian?" Peyton breaks away from Aaron and starts calling out Gillian's name.
"Peyton, shhh. She can't hear you." Even he seems unconvinced by his tone. "She's asleep." She's half dead.
She moves towards Gillian's room when Aaron grabs her wrist again. "Please, just come with me. Please."
"OK Aaron, just let go. That hurts."
"Sorry," he says, leading her downstairs into the laundry room. He closes the door. It's the only place he can think of for privacy. He can feel the chill that tends to crop up from time to time. Heat or no, it's still cold.
Finding a place in the corner of the room, he sits down, Peyton following suit. "What's going on?" she asks.
He tells her. He tells her everything that's happened lately. Gillian, the dogs.
He sobs.