Fallout Cures

04: High Orianna

I woke up to smell of flowers sweet enough to fill my nostrils. The usual white ceiling blunt to my eyes as I grudgingly lifted my whole body to sit straight up towards the shift of movement to my right. There was Orianna sat cross-legged and formal to look at with a smile uptight. But the more I stared, the more entrancing she was to sight.

"Good morning to you, too." Orianna said casually, standing on her grey boots of terrible weight.

"How's everything?" she greeted with the smallest of grin, I couldn't help but nod for while she stared the more it dramatically had burnt my brown eyes. So I plainly nodded.

"I feel like talking though." Orianna spoke slowly as I shifted to see her regal stance.

I thought of speaking less, however.

Orianna had turned to focus on me and had sat grimly on the edge of the bed, more than willing to adhere to talking than she ever faced a gun to the head.

"I wish not to forcefully squeeze your voice out for it seems rather dull than hearing you willingly speak unconcerned of wasting saliva." Orianna have said as she had put a light hand on my head, small thuds as it goes.

I sighed, "Have you talked to Tate?"

She smiled tightly. "His Tate, why worry about him? Sure, he has this growing boy's emotional changes, but his Tate."

I felt my heart even sulk, saying, "It's because I shouted at him and cried a bit of tears because of anger of his unreasonable illustration."

But Orianna just hugged me, nonetheless of my guilt. "It's okay."

Before the sun had even set yesterday, it ended miserably frustrating. I wasn't looking for series of tears rolling down cheeks but it happened so.

Orianna looked deep into my eyes and I wondered if their talk with Tate really did well than the one I've handled. I've had pictured the guilt in his eyes when Tate saw me drew two steps back when he stepped closer in one move. But now, I perceived the wrong in it for it only meant a big "NO" as my answer of his asking. His irrationality had struck hard for I didn't want to leave the Bloc even though it was hard not to be tempted by multiple chances of escape.

It was more likely better than any I've encountered inside blunt walls. But there was one thing I've realized after numerous memories I've theft: there is no place outside better than inside. And that was not what Tate would understand through talk unless he would be let out in the cold for the first time in his life. That I didn't want.

"Why don't we visit Emory who would be most probably in the training wing?" Orianna had suggested quite gladly while his hands run through the thins of my hair.

I approved then, gleeful of the thought I'd see Emory train.

Shortly, we both arrived in pitch-black wears to enter the training grounds. Barely it was set as a ground though for the surrounding itself was fabricated to a large storehouse of some sort. It was eerily silent in sound and dusty—if my nose was to say. But apart from the worn out walls and shard glasses laid all over each step I take, was no Emory in sight but a few rice sack dummies pinned on human size pillars of wood.

As always, Orianna would be paranoid enough to stance as a battalion officer and had raised her hand by now to shut me off from any movement and breathe until she says so to let out air. We both creeped down to our knees and moved ever so lightly. At our left, Orianna quickly wrapped up a gun around her hands from the given set of weapons—according to the set generation Emory had chosen.

"Will stake hard for this for I'm certain that he's here." Orianna said with a clank of her gun in hand while in another she gave a small weapon onto my palm.