Scout shifts uncomfortably, sucking on his lip and avoiding eye contact.
"I... dunno if I'd call it... fighting."
The world shifts. The cobblestones and stone buildings fade. Gavroche still sits in his wrought iron chair, but now they're on a road paved with asphalt. Lining the road is lush green trees and grass, and in the distance, mountains.
"And... it didn't... it didn't feel like a war, like in the stories." Scout tugs on the edge of his button down shirt. "It was more like... a really long party."
The road comes to life. Shadows of men have set up tables and chairs, a big grill cooking meat, coolers of beers stacked up and cigars shared while a boombox plays music from the 90s. There are even big serving containers of food on the tables, platters to nibble at, games to play.
Gavroche offers a cigarette and a match to Scout. Scout takes both, though his hands shake as he lights the cigarette.
Scout doesn't speak, breathing in the smoke to calm himself, but the shadows speak for him. A car rolls up the road, but has to stop because the party has blocked it. A man approaches the car, demands that the window roll down, and demands the ID of the person inside. The person offers to bribe them to allow them through. The bribe doesn't work, because why take a bribe when you can take everything?
"We'd let them go if they were our people. And we wouldn't if they were the enemy people," Scout says, staring at the ground.
The shadows drag a screaming woman out of the car by the hair. One swings a machete down on the back of her legs. The tendons snap. She can't walk. They drag her into the woods to pile with the others, other people still alive but incapable of escaping.
no subject
"I... dunno if I'd call it... fighting."
The world shifts. The cobblestones and stone buildings fade. Gavroche still sits in his wrought iron chair, but now they're on a road paved with asphalt. Lining the road is lush green trees and grass, and in the distance, mountains.
"And... it didn't... it didn't feel like a war, like in the stories." Scout tugs on the edge of his button down shirt. "It was more like... a really long party."
The road comes to life. Shadows of men have set up tables and chairs, a big grill cooking meat, coolers of beers stacked up and cigars shared while a boombox plays music from the 90s. There are even big serving containers of food on the tables, platters to nibble at, games to play.
Gavroche offers a cigarette and a match to Scout. Scout takes both, though his hands shake as he lights the cigarette.
Scout doesn't speak, breathing in the smoke to calm himself, but the shadows speak for him. A car rolls up the road, but has to stop because the party has blocked it. A man approaches the car, demands that the window roll down, and demands the ID of the person inside. The person offers to bribe them to allow them through. The bribe doesn't work, because why take a bribe when you can take everything?
"We'd let them go if they were our people. And we wouldn't if they were the enemy people," Scout says, staring at the ground.
The shadows drag a screaming woman out of the car by the hair. One swings a machete down on the back of her legs. The tendons snap. She can't walk. They drag her into the woods to pile with the others, other people still alive but incapable of escaping.