Ivy:
I think waiting is the worst kind of torture.
The hours tick on, painfully, as Johanna and I try to make some semblance of conversation. It's... challenging to make conversation with a complete stranger for hours on end. Earlier in the evening at least the boys were waiting with us. Three of her sons still live at home and they entertained us with stories of their day and chatted about their favorite toys. I mean the teenager mainly sulked, but even that was more amusing than staring at Johanna for hours on end worried that the man you love is dying somewhere out there in the night.
I want to ask her if she thinks they are okay, but I'm not the only one with a loved one out there, and I don't want to remind her that her son is out there too. Not that she forgot, not that she can forget. It seems selfish to seek assurance from a mother whose child is potentially in danger.
Sean hasn't come back to report to us, I wonder if he was able to find Giddean. I wonder if the Market Square is on lockdown. But mostly, I wonder if I'll be a widow my morning....
"I'll bring some fresh tea," Johanna says softly as she stands up from her chair.
"Do you need any help?" I ask. I'm almost desperate to do anything to take my mind off of my worry.
"No dear, you just wait here"
As she walks to another room, I feel my stomach lurch and I close my eyes. My nerves are getting the best of me and I have to be brave, be brave for Giddean, and know that he will come back to me.
The only light in the room is from the roaring fireplace and it's so stifling that it causes sweat to bead down my neck even though I'm sitting as far away from it as I can in this tiny room. If I were to move I'm sure Johanna would see a sweat stain down the back of my dress. The leather couch sticks to the exposed skin on my arms, and my butt has sunk deep into the cushions from sitting in the same spot for so long. I am just all around miserable.
It's only a few minutes before Johanna brings in a fresh pot of tea. It's some horrendous smelling herbal brew, like freshly cut grass meets poison, and it almost makes me want to gag from the smell. But I'm not rude so I don't mention it to her and just smile at her.
"Here we go" She sets it down on the coffee table after refilling our mugs. The warm tea we have been drinking all evening has done nothing to cool off this already warm room. I almost want to run out into the streets and strip off all my clothes just to save myself from all the heat.
"Thank you" I breathe out, trying not to gag.
"Where are you from, back on earth?" Johanna asks.
It's something I have pushed out of my mind for the past few months while I've had to deal with everything here. It's also not something I want to think about when I am already stressed and tired.
"New York" my home... my once home. Sometimes I still dream of the busy car lined streets and the chic bars. It feels like a different lifetime and I guess in a way it was.
"Ah, I was there once" her wrinkled face looks distant as she remembers some past moment.
I hum my reply encouraging her to talk more.
"But it was a very long time ago"
"Uh, and where are you from?" I decide to humor her if only to pass the time and make it a bit easier on my host. What would normally pass as good small talk during the day seems deathly boring this late at night.
"Oh, I'm from-"
A loud bang interrupts her and confusion wrinkles on her face.
"Maybe it's Sean?" I say as I go to stand, stretching my legs after hours sitting in the same position. It'll be so nice to head home to my warm comfy bed.
She is nimble for her age and beats me, standing up and already halfway to the door to the hallway, "No. Wait here; I'll see what's going on"
She closes the door behind her and I hear her footsteps walking away.
It's not long before I hear the voice of what sounds like someone speaking with Johann muffled through the wooden door. I am anxious to hear any news so I carefully creep up and press my ear to the door, hoping they didn't hear my movement.
"...heading this way. Mama said they are looking for somebody" It's the voice of a young teenager, maybe shortly after his voice is starting to change. It's childlike and yet the occasion word cracks showing he not quiet the child he once was.
"Did she send you anywhere else or just here?"
"Just here, Mrs. Garett"
Johanna says something I can't make out before continuing ".....you better be heading back, Herman. Thank your mother for me"
I quickly creep back to the couch and am rearranging my skirts to pretend I hadn't moved a muscle when Johanna walks back through the door into the living room. She stands there for a moment, just looking around, annoyed at something, deep in thought.
Then she looks right at me and sighs, "we have a problem, Ivy."
I look her up and down as she stands there; her posture is well, stressed. There is a tenseness that wasn't there earlier in the evening. "What's wrong?" This can't be good.
"The rioters are heading this way and they are looking for you"
*****
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Heather
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Scheming Against Devotion *COMPLETE* (Book 2 of The Transition of Pinn)
Science FictionI vomit. It isn't pretty, it isn't delicate, and it's followed by dry heaving as my body seeks to somehow expel what I have just seen. I shouldn't bother; I will never un-see that. ----- Ivy has just witnessed a terrible truth about Pinn. She is sur...
