(no subject)
Lorre and Bevil sat around a small fire, talking. Bevil sharpened a knife as he sat, tapping his foot, dancing a motionless dance to an inaudible rhythm.
"Why are we here, Bevil?" asked Lorre. "Not in an existentialist sense, I mean. Just-what the hell are we doing?"
"We're scouting, aren't we? We're doing what the Pepen told us to, and they told us to scout."
"Well, sure, but why? I mean, first the city crashes, and then there are those giant things; and it's a good thing their legs were so damned skinny, else we'd be in a pretty bad place right now."
"Mm-huh." Bevil switched to the other side of the knife.
"But now here we are, out in this fucked-up wilderness, doing what? Just sitting around a fire and talking."
"Scouting."
"Right, sure, but-no. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck it. Nevermind, forget it. Shit. Fuck it."
"What?"
"Shit, shit, nevermind." He paused. "I'm so fucking tired."
"Why are we here, Bevil?" asked Lorre. "Not in an existentialist sense, I mean. Just-what the hell are we doing?"
"We're scouting, aren't we? We're doing what the Pepen told us to, and they told us to scout."
"Well, sure, but why? I mean, first the city crashes, and then there are those giant things; and it's a good thing their legs were so damned skinny, else we'd be in a pretty bad place right now."
"Mm-huh." Bevil switched to the other side of the knife.
"But now here we are, out in this fucked-up wilderness, doing what? Just sitting around a fire and talking."
"Scouting."
"Right, sure, but-no. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck it. Nevermind, forget it. Shit. Fuck it."
"What?"
"Shit, shit, nevermind." He paused. "I'm so fucking tired."