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[ Peyton ]

She'd been advancing again, stalking forward, working up to a run; readying to throw herself at one(or both) of them again.

Then everything was red. Crimson flowers bloomed as one--from the ground, from the vines, from the trees. Everything was in hues of bright red, fluttering in the wind. Eerie, almost beautiful in a way, they distracted the Sun, drew her attention as nothing else could, and then they were gone. A second, a blink of the eyes, and they'd dissolved, blowing away to leave everything completely untouched.

<Peyton.>

It was soft, but it was there. The color in Peyton's eyes paled, her momentum slowing as clarity flooded back to her. There was a moment of confusion, then she staggered, falling forward onto hands and knees as she struggled to catch her breath, took inventory of what hurt. Her chest, her arm, her cheek. They stung, aching dully, and if the tackiness on her skin was any indication she would need at least a few stitches on her chest.

The world had narrowed down to that, and then Chel's voice had brought it all back. Peyton's head lifted, turning so she could look for the other girl, and when she found her, not too far from them, she grimaced as she caught sight of the blood. She hand't been bleeding before, that wasn't a wound from any zombie. That'd been her doing.

Once again she'd lost control. Once again Chel had paid the price for it.

What did I do, War?

<I don't know. I couldn't reach you.> He sounded uneasy.

Sitting back on her knees, she watched, lips pressed in a thin line, as the taller girl bandaged herself up. "Dunno why you put up with us..." Well, Jack, more than her. Peyton wasn't sure Chel had any affection for her at all. Maybe tolerance. Maybe not even that.

Still frowning, she turned to look for Jack.

Chel honestly didn't dislike Peyton; she felt indifferent and sometimes even spiteful, but the girl hadn't done anything that Jack hadn't asked for and the spar wasn't really her fault (as she'd learned later).

But right now she somewhat mirrored Jack's feelings. She hadn't caught a break in who knew how long, the knights dream had taken a large toll on her psych, the scouting mission had done nothing but panic her about the events back home (riddled with earthquakes- fun times). She just wanted it all to go away.

"Just ******** off," she told Peyton tiredly, not wanting to deal in kindness and courtesy. She let Jack take the bandages and to him she said, "I hate you."

Gretchen didn't realize anyone was there for what felt like a long time. In reality it had only been a few moments. The sobbing was starting to slow, exhaustion washing over her in a heavy wave, and when her hands slid from her hair again she saw the edge of someone's knee beside her.

It made her blink, and the crying faded away completely, the shaking slowed. She turned her head enough to see a pair of dusty jeans, a scuffed shoe. When she rolled her eyes up, she saw a familiar face looking down at her. "Lukas." Her voice was cracked, hoarse. Eyes were red rimmed and still damp. She sat up slowly, hands pushing the tangle of her hair back away from her face as she slumped against the wall at her back.

She didn't know what to say to him. There were so many questions she wanted to ask, but at least half of those he couldn't answer. She she looked at him warily, tried to block out the hiss in her mind, and almost succeeded.




Jack being rude was nothing new. His dismissal barely registered, let alone held any actual command. It was Chel's tired voice telling her to go that actually hit. Peyton flinched as if she'd been struck.

There was the urge to defend herself. To try to apologize for having hurt Chel, but in the end she pressed her teeth together, clenched her jaw, and got to her feet.

Her exit was wordless.

She needed to get stitched up anyways.

[ Mimsy ]

The sight of the island drenched in red was something that Mimsy would have been entirely unopposed to for most of her career at Deus Ex. At the moment, however, it was the last thing she wanted. She flinched at the sight of the eruption of color, curling more tightly against Robert's body as she awaited the inevitability of more destruction - but nothing came.

Slowly, cautiously, she lifted her head to open her eyes. The red was right on the cusp of fading entirely away, and it seemed as though most everything was beginning to return to relative normalcy. A cursory glance at the dorms registered some damage, and she thought of their home and the vines that had driven them inward. She thought of the safety that they'd promised to the infant child that they had just welcomed into their lives, attempting as best she could to avoid shaking the foundation of her belief that everything they could give would be enough. It was an easier task than it typically would have been; Alice showed them that they would not be alone in their efforts, and for the first time, she was sincerely willing to accept that help.

"Robert." She gently pressed her cheek against his, continuing her patience. "Please wake up. It is time to go home. Peter is waiting for us. I cannot do this alone."

When her head finally cleared, Sherry got right back to work (with only minor prodding from another Life member). She still had a few shots left, and when those ran out she set about tending to wounds when needed. There was a lot of work to do.

But eventually there was no more work to be had. Eventually she was allowed to leave and take a break herself, her own wounds seen too before she began the walk back to her room.

She really didn’t even want to look. There was a reason she had told herself not to bother with nice things, and from what she’d heard the destruction had been pretty universal.

It was better than she’d hoped. Her windows were smashed, there were some large holes in her walls, and all the glass in her shower was shattered. Her room door would need re-hung, but it still worked, if one used their shoulder to open it. Things would need replaced or fixed. But all in all, it could have been worse.

Sherry looked around and sighed.

A smile came easily as Robert opened his eyes to greet her, and Mimsy sat up alongside him, making a careful attempt to steady both of them at once. That was simple enough, given that the ground could offer a fair amount of support, but helping him up was probably going to be difficult.

Not that such a thing had ever stopped her before.

She stood, suddenly very aware of every muscle that was required for doing so, and leaned to brace her arms around one of his. Namely the one that she had not stabbed.

"Alice left the door for us," she informed him, nodding in its direction before she attempted to pull him up. "The flower that she gave me saved me. But I did something very bad before it could. Please forgive me. I don't want to bring any part of this back to our home."

Lex was out like a light, still bleeding into the sand when the red swept over the island, still out cold when a Hunter found him and took the man to be vaccinated.

Lex would wake up later in a cot, cheek still swollen and a new scar on his lower right arm, just below the wrist. A goose egg had formed on his head, where the shovel had connected, and his back was thoroughly bruised. In the haze of drugs and pain, however, the Lifer smiled.

< Good to have you back, Squawks. >

<< Try not to damage yourself to badly from now on, yes? It wouldn't do for me to have to train yet another one of you idiots. >>

Lex snorted, garnering some attention from a nearby Lifer; the intermediate waved the other Hunter off.

< Love you too, buddy. >

He put his hand over hers, and shook his head.

"You can promise it if you need to, but I'm gonna promise you in return that I already knew that. I ain't afraid you're gonna turn on me. Not now, not ever."

He leaned in to the crib to pick Peter up in his good arm, but as soon as he did so, he immediately attempted to settle him into Mimsy's arms. "I trust you." He reminded her, with a voice that meant in all things. "And so does he. Most importantly, you deserve that trust, and you always will. No zombie nonsense is gonna change that."

He gave Peter to her, his hand still under the baby's head, until he felt the child was safe and he was able to hold Mimsy instead.