Page 36 of Beyond The Maples
I can't help it. I let out a little chuckle. Her head snaps up to me, her big eyes welling with tears.
"What!?" she shrieks.
Which only makes me laugh harder. I can't help it. Watching this woman have a tantrum is so off-putting, it looks so out of place on her. She throws her pillow at me, but I catch the shake of her shoulders as my laugh turns into a full bumbling giggle.
"I hate you, you know that?" she says through her own wheezy laughs, flopping backwards.
We both release the tension through our shared insanity, laughing until we're wiping our eyes, the moisture there for an entirely different reason now.
Silence falls over the room before she finally breaks it.
"Thank you, and I am sorry for my reaction. And for putting you in that position in the first place..." she trails off again. Embarrassed.
"Don't apologize. Kethler is a prick, and I saw a way out. You don't owe me something because I showed you a moment of kindness, Farra, that's not how it works," I say sincerely.
She's quiet for a minute, then says,"he reminds me of my dad, the authority, the barely restrained rage. Him screaming like that felt... too familiar. Suddenly I was six, and I wanted to hide under the table." She blows out a shaky breath, her hands going behind her head as she gets comfortable staring at the ceiling. "So, thank you."
"I'm sorry that you felt that way. And don't thank me. There must be something very wrong with me because I actually enjoyed it."
I huff out a breath, thinking of Deacon and his accusations that I enjoyed the Games. I worry sometimes that there is a piece of me that is blackened, rotten even. A dark parcel I've kept neatly wrapped inside myself. I worry more that other people can see it.
We talk for the rest of the night. Apparently, once you crack beneath that first beautiful icy layer, Farra Denver is a big softie. A softie who will talk your ear off until you accidentally drift off to sleep, the sound of her idle chatter a familiar comfort.
Training was relatively uneventful for the rest of the week, and I'm thankful. We've had a few run-ins with other crews. I knew the peace would be short-lived. At some point crews would start competing for higher positions, and favour from the legionaries, in hopes of better assignments. They had yet to give us our work duties, allowing us to focus on physical training for the most part.
I'm slowly gaining stamina during our morning runs. Leo and Farra somehow barely break sweats now despite increasing their time. I've kept my distance from Tarius. He's hard to read. My gut says he has good enough intentions, it's just I haven't been able to figure out what those are yet.
Berkley's taken on a reluctant leadership role among our group. Leo teasingly calls him daddy, which Berkley despises. I've questioned why they made Berk come back through training at all, considering his previous experience, but he didn't have many answers for me. He was told it was because of his advanced age, and because when he had last served the structures and expectations were vastly different. They'd thought he wouldn't be able to integrate into the active units efficiently. Despite the grumbling, I suspect he doesn't mind.
At nights my mind wanders home. All the worry that I can suppress during our busy days creeps in when it's quiet. I am often thankful for Farra's heavy breathing next to me, grounding me in the here and now.
Our schedule is intensive, training every day, but we were told we'd get the odd Sunday off. Which, as it happens, is today.
Leo announced we're going on a tour of the city, led by himself, which is ridiculous considering he's never been here either. He even got Farra to agree tocome. When she originally said no, he threatened he would stay with her in the dorm, the entire day, to which she sighed and got ready.
We walk down the slight hill towards the town. It's warm. I can see dust clouds over the wall, forming on the empty rolling hills, but they don't seem to come this way, or if so they don't make it over the walls.
"I'm not sure I'll get over how much better the air is in here," I admit with a shallow breath.
"I'd known, but it was hard to imagine... I don't actually remember a time when the air quality was this decent," Farra says, biting her lip thoughtfully.
A thousand thoughts rip through my mind. Why wouldn't they attempt to make other cities like this? Moving and making similar structures to block out the dust.
We walk for a bit, marveling at the landscape. We turn again, winding towards more condensed housing. Although small and worn, it isn't like my neighbourhood. The houses are a medley of old and new, repurposed brick and clay meshed with concrete and wood. What is striking is the neatness of it all. Something as simple as a home made of unbroken material seems frivolous to me, unachievable back home.
Once again, I feel overwhelmed by the noise. Everyone outside sweeping, talking, hauling things in wagons. As we near, people give us polite nods, neither warm or hostile, and I wonder what they think of us.
In my town, there is this vast unspoken contrast in people's beliefs. A divide that's neither talked about nor encouraged for debate. There are devout loyalists; people who truly feel the current government is just, and that their efforts are altruistic. They pray to the Gods for forgiveness, frequenting the temples and offering what they can in a show of sacrifice. They believe soon the grass will grow, the rain will come steadily, and our continent will flourish.
Then there is the other half, the citizens who are quiet. The ones that look at their peers with worry and regret every time the council comes out with new guidelines, the harsher laws that leave its most vulnerable citizens behind. It feels dangerous to even think these thoughts. They are so rarely voiced out loud; peopleare too scared. Those in charge have made it pretty clear, making sure everyone understood early on what happens if you challenged the system.
To put it simply, life is short.
I follow Leo as he bounces around the street, greeting people and asking questions like a friendly pest. My sense of unease only heightens as we continue on through the town. We pass a school where kids are playing outside with a ball. Something so simple shouldn't have jealousy shredding through me, but it does. My sister has never lived like this.
I watch Farra. Her face is sober, reflective, and her eyebrows pinch in thought.
I haven't been brave enough to attempt a conversation about all this with anyone. I wonder if she is a devout. With all her family members serving in the army so willingly, one would think they agreed with the Council's mission statements.
