going out to hunt and then back to feast

[bloodycrescents]

The first time my dad took me hunting, I was a kid, still a few years off from double digits. It's not like I didn't know where meat came from, but I guess back then I still figured even the stuff my dad brought home was pretty much the same as the packaged meat my mom got at the store in its pink styrofoam and cling wrap. I knew it came from

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[rage_andlove]

His foot kind of fucking hurts today. Which would be fine, only, it's his left foot that hurts and there's not much that you can do about pain in a limb that's not even there anymore. He limps. He kind of wants to punch something. Or get drunk. Either of those would do it.

"Hey," he says as he crosses the kitchen, and every step's difficult.
Sometime,s he thinks, it would have been easier to have just bled out.

[bloodycrescents]

I'm so caught up in not being a part of all this, I don't notice he's talking to me for a couple moments. It's funny how rude you can feel for something you didn't mean to do, but that flickers away quick. "Hey," I say back, wondering if he wants to talk or he thinks he knows me from somewhere or he just wants the empty seat at the table because those go pretty fast, I've already noticed. There's plenty enough food, but chairs are a different question, depending on the time of day. I keep an eye on these things. I feel pretty fucking stupid for it, honestly, but sometimes it just feels safer to come in here when no one's around.

He doesn't look any older than me, give or take a year or two, but age is kind of deceptive. The years on their own don't mean a damn thing. It's about what they were filled with. "You alright, man?"

[rage_andlove]

It's harder and harder to meet people. He's got Mace and Penny, Remy, a handful of people, but, most days, he can't stand being pleasant, can't make himself smile or not curse or think the worst of people. He limped out of Iraq. He dragged himself out bleeding. He ought to treat it like a second chance but, most of the time, it just feels like a fucking trial.

"No," he says, because today is not a day that he can sugar-coat. "I'm fucking falling apart." He shifts his weight, jaw tightening before he can stop it. "And this shithole is pissing me off."

[bloodycrescents]

I know most people would probably get all offended by that, like it hurt their sensibilities or whatever, but I just about smile. I don't know this guy from Adam, but something tells me he doesn't buy into that bullshit Betty always tries to shove down my throat about ACCEPTING. There's shit in life you just don't accept. Adjusting makes a hell of a lot more sense.

"I was starting to think everybody was completely fucking in love with the place," I answer. That's their problem if they wanna just roll over and act like the island's got sunshine coming out of its metaphorical ass, though, not mine. "Need a hand or something?"

[everyone_takes]

It was weird to think, but life on the island was pretty good. Kate crossed the kitchen and pulled open the fridge to find something to eat, her book tucked under her arm. It was stupid of her to have the book in the Compound, where anyone might see what she was reading, but so far she'd avoided running into anyone she knew and so her Introduction to Law secret was safe for the time being.

"Sorry," she said when she reached the table as the book tumbled out of her grip and toppled to the floor. It didn't help matters much that she was also trying to carry a sandwich, a bunch of fruit and a cup of coffee. "I think I need someone to follow me around just to carry my shit," she said, though she was obviously joking as she looked up and grinned at the guy she'd nearly dumped her lunch on.

[bloodycrescents]

"That's a lot of shit to carry," I answer, flashing her something like a smile before I bend down to pick up her book. It's the kind of text that I'm pretty sure would put me to sleep if I tried to read it, mostly because I wouldn't get half of it, partly because I'm sick to death of lawyers by now. I wonder what she's doing with it, if this is to do with that school I heard about or she's just into that stuff. Maybe planning on law school back home. It's weird to think of all these people as having homes and we're all just stuck here.

I hold it out to her when I sit back up. She's gorgeous in a girl next door kind of way, except the girls in Black Lick never really looked like that, but her hair reminds me uncomfortably of my sisters in a way that makes it hard to check her out even as it's kind of hard not to. "Don't worry about it. You think maybe you ought to set some of that down?"

[everyone_takes]

"Thanks," Kate said as she dropped the rest of her stuff onto the table, taking care not to spill the coffee everywhere. After setting the plates down, she reached out to take the book from him and then set it on the table as well, making sure to keep the cover face down, just in case her brother were to come in. It was stupid and it would all come out eventually, but she really didn't want anyone to know about the law class yet. It wasn't like she ever wanted to be a lawyer or even could do that on the island.

Not that she wanted to be a cop either, really, it was just... sort of interesting.

Without waiting to see if it was okay, she slid into the chair next to the guy and grinned. "I'm Kate," she said. "Carrier of a million food products and stupid books." He sort of looked like that guy she'd seen around before, but at the same time, they obviously weren't the same person, which probably meant he was new. Being new sucked.

[bloodycrescents]

It feels like a teenage girl thing, that certainty they can sit wherever they want, because Amber thinks she's the queen of fucking everything, but I know it isn't. I've seen some shy enough it was like they had to beg for every scrap and I don't think they ever understood they could take whatever they wanted, too. I'm pretty sure most of them don't get the power they have. Kate at least doesn't have the arrogance of the ones who do. She just sits. The only one making a production of it is me.

I think I oughta chase her off, so I can get back to - to what? Sitting around alone, sulking like a toddler?

"Harley," I answer. Brother of a murderer. Caretaker of three women who want everything and don't get I'm trying like hell just to scrounge up something. The guy Callie fucks when her husband's not looking. No one at all. "New guy. Eater of a million food products. No books at the moment."

[findherwayback]

"Careful there."

There was a note of mild concern in her voice as she says it, taking a step closer but still staying three steps away. If he needs her to, she'll jump in, but Thalia's fairly certain that this is nothing. Everyone has a tendency to eat a little faster than they should.

The silver of the arm guards that she's wearing glinted slightly in the harsh industrial lighting as she moved, the sleeves of her leather jacket pushed up to her elbows. Mud caked her boots and there was a hole in her fishnets over her knee. It had been a good day even if she hadn't gotten as much sleep as she wanted. "It's hot."

[bloodycrescents]

"I noticed." It's a stupid thing to say when she's probably already seen as much or she wouldn't say that in the first place, but it's what comes out of my mouth anyway. Leaning my elbows on the table, I hesitate, wanting to invite her to sit, not wanting to look even more like an idiot when she says no, not sure I want the company anyway. Not sure I don't.

Not sure of much, really.

It's hard to miss the metal on her arms, even with everything else to look at, my gaze hooking briefly on the slight tear in her tights where just a little more skin peeks through. I nod to her arms. "What're those for?" I ask, and then I realize it's a dumb question when it's probably just some kind of jewelry I don't get or want to. I couldn't keep up with that shit even if I wanted to, though.

[findherwayback]

Initially she didn't get what he was referring to, then her eyes darted down to her wrists. There were simply a part of, worn so often that she often touched her wrists when she wasn't wearing them. Taking them off made her feel ill-prepared, like there was something missing. It was the same with her coronet and part of the reason she wore it around her neck these days. The knives weren't resting in their slots, turning them into an accessory more than anything.

"Arm guards. They were a gift," she explained sliding her quiver off of her shoulders and propping it against the leg of the table. Without waiting to be invited to, Thalia pulled out the chair next to him and sat down. Crossing her legs, she bounced her foot slightly unable to stay perfectly still inside. Outside it was easier to forget how to move. It was easier to do a lot of things there.

"For archery." Licking her lips, she looked out at the crowd before looking back at him. "Adjusting?"

[bloodycrescents]

I've never shot a bow in my life, but I have a feeling she's good at it. She seems like the kind of girl who's good at things like that, clear eyed and focused. She probably doesn't flinch either.

I give a laugh that's all silent air at the question and think of Betty again, how she'd implore me to ACCEPT my new circumstances, take it in stride and learn to be okay with it or something. I don't think she ever got that some things in life, you don't fucking accept. You just learn to deal with it. You learn to survive it. You don't love it. It is what it is and I am who I am, and I might be on this particular path, but I don't belong here. Sooner or later, it has to split and lead somewhere else. Maybe not better, but different.

"Yeah," I say, nodding. "You could say that. You hunt? Or is that just for targets?"

[madeuptoerase]

The first night, she woke with a start, muffling a sob in the darkness of a room shared with several others. The second, she didn't sleep at all, lay in the pitch-black of the evening in a hut she found to sleep in with her gaze trained towards the door anyway, listening to the sounds of the jungle outside and waiting for them to change, to give some sign of someone approaching. Carla Jean never even heard the click of a trigger, never felt the heat of a bullet or blood on her skin, but the threat of meeting the same fate twice is just about the only thing she's been able to think of since she first found herself on the island of Tabula Rasa, seconds before her own murder

[bloodycrescents]

I don't know if she's a relief or a disappointment, sitting down near me like that, looking more like the girls back home than any of the other women around here do. On one hand, I wouldn't mind most of them sitting next to me, although maybe not so much in this kitchen. On the other, I wouldn't have a shot in hell with any of them

[madeuptoerase]

She'd have figured as much, of course, but Carla Jean just nods knowingly, thinking for a brief, petty moment that that's supposed to be her line. It would have been, anyway, if she were the one cooking the meals like she used to be, if she had anyone to cook for. The better part of her life spent looking after people - Mama, Llewelyn - and this is what she has to show for it, a seat in a kitchen where she's one of too many. Mostly she doesn't want to eat because she doesn't know if she can, because the idea of ingesting food puts her stomach in knots, but partly it's that she doesn't know how she feels about all of this, the big, communal meals where nothing costs a dime. She could never cook for this many, but she feels like she should be doing something even so

[bloodycrescents]

It's been a long time since anyone really talked to me just to talk to me, at least before this place. There were the girls, but there was always something they wanted. The customers at Shop Rite, needing help or hoping for a piece of gossip to take home and chew at like dogs at a bone. Callie, but even she wanted something from me, though I still don't know why. I guess when everyone thinks your mom killed your dad, you stop being a person and become kind of an idea. A conversation piece. Anyway, they didn't talk much to me before that either, except for Skip, but it got worse after Dad died. You could see it in people's faces when they looked, slowing down like they were passing a car crash, not so much out of respect as because of the side show of it, the entertainment and the breath of relief all rolled into one. There but for the grace of God go I

[lonewolflives]

This marked the first time she'd gone with a light courseload, and she wasn't sure how she felt about it; it meant learning less, in a sense. But in another it meant she could be out and around more, and so she could learn more, learn different things, things that weren't in rooms and books.

She just wasn't sure what they were, or what she was meant to be learning, or what she was learning it for. Today all she'd learned was that Colette was good at hunting fowl, and she'd already known that.

There was a new person in the kitchen, though. Another shared face, but new all the same, she could tell, even just stepping in with a brace of the birds slung over her shoulder and a single sword on her hip.

"How is it today?" she said.

[bloodycrescents]

I've met a guy who has a dragon, I hear there are dinosaurs a few miles off, and things appear out of nowhere. The sword, though, takes me by surprise all the same, and for a moment, all I can think is how fucking glad I am Misty never got her hands on something like that. But then, I think she's always preferred the distance of a rifle.

"It's good," I tell her, because it is, even if the thought pulsing over it is that my dad'd probably think she's more of a man than I am, too. Hell, she probably is, in spite of the curves and the unmistakably female sway of her hips. She can't be much older than Amber, but she seems it, maybe because she's not covered in the thousand glosses, powders, glazes and smudges of other teenage girls. "You caught them?"

[lonewolflives]

Arya slapped the birds down on the counter, not angrily or confrontationally, just with a singular lack of delicacy. She hopped up beside them, pulling one free of the set.

"Colette did most of the work," she said. "She's a falcon. But I'm the one she hunts for."

Back at Winterfell, it would have been the only kind of hunting she'd have been allowed. She'd nearly been inclined to be against it, solely for that, but she couldn't deny the joy of watching a hunting bird on the wing.

[bloodycrescents]

I think of that fall morning and my dad with a gun in his hand. I think of Misty on the porch, gun turned on me. By accident or design, I still don't know. I don't want to know. I want to pull ignorance over my head like a coat, live in the Hub, drink beer and try my luck with the women here, forget everything that came before. They're all out of my league, but sooner or later, surely one of them will give.

Compared to a falcon, guns are a mess. They leave you picking shot out of your kill. I've never seen anyone hunt with a falcon before, but I guess if it's properly trained, it's a lot cleaner. Those birds look it, anyway.

"I didn't know there were falcons in the jungle," I say, chasing it with a drink of water. "Did you train her yourself?"