Surprisingly, rat tasted fairly nice. Although, I didn't know whether that was genuine tastiness or my ravenous mind persuading me any form of food was edible.
They - Robyn, Jay and Chris - had given me a portion of food yet had not given me cutlery. Whether this was from distrust or simple limited knifes and forks I did not know.
In the flickering lustre of the fire, I could now make out their features. Robyn and Jay were indeed twins: they both sported the same auburn hair and smattering of freckles.
However, Robyn's eyes were an inky rendition of green, darkened and mystical, pools of brooding and anger. Where did all the negative emotions originate from? I hope her blatant rage was not directed toward me, though any other possible explanations ceased to spring to mind.
On the other hand, Jay's eyes were an azure blue, sparkling in a kind sense. They seemed so contrasting in personalities, though they seemed exceptionally close. I didn't understand this; I had never had a sibling myself.
Chris looked rugged. A mop of messy brown hair was situated on his head, his face pointed and chiselled. In his lip was a ring, a ring he kept fiddling with from time to time. I didn't know whether to be amused or disgusted by this. Then again, he was rather handsome, even more so if he discovered the use of a hairbrush.
Scooping more rat into my mouth, I tried to ascertain their ages. Chris definitely looked the oldest. Late twenties, perhaps? Robyn and Jay had to be younger. The small smattering of acne adorning their faces must imply adolescence, so I placed them at 17. I was 22. Would they be able to make any use of me? I seriously hoped so.
Meticulously cleaning all remaining residue from my plate, I forced myself to meet their gazes, holding eye contact with each person for a while. I hoped they think I was brave for doing this, instead of merely challenging them.
Shifting my position, I watched them slowly lift forks to their lips, chewing the rat at a more dignified pace. They stayed silent until they were done. Chris spoke first:
"So. What's your name?" He asked, the words cutting through the silence, a stark contrast to the tranquility I had formerly been submerged in.
"Uh..." I stammered pitifully, wringing my hands underneath the table. Chris raised an eyebrow, expectant for an answer. But my name - Amy Adams - sounded pathetic.
In all honesty, I wasn't sure that was my identity, or what my identity was.
Amy resonated the bells of my former life, the life before I ran away and abandoned the normal schedule for a young adult such as me.
Amy sounded plain, too common, too boring to be of any use to help freedom fighters such as these. Making a decision, I cleared my throat, obtaining Chris's gaze to the best of my ability. "I would answer with my true name, but I'm unsure that represents me. So, I will change it to something more fitting: Tempest." I tried out my new name on my tongue, the way my mouth formed the word alien and unfamiliar. Yet my brain seemed happy, and I felt the new name brand itself across me, labelling me a storm. That was what I was, a swirling storm of emotion and indecisive anger. Storms got noticed. Tempests made their marks on the world.
{Sorry for the short chapter! The next one will be longer, I promise!}
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Monotone | ✔️
Action"If we were so riveted in the spectrum of nature, why did we stand, petrified, as we became corrupted by idle technology, stupefied by glowing screens, stolen from life as we know it from enemies right under our noses? Why did we relent to this obvi...
