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Rivers in the Desert
Fiyori's palm extended to her chin, which she began to scratch. The other played drums with her left temple. She wondered why her face was so unusually wet.

"When I was, four or five years old, or maybe younger, Ma and Pa took me and went on a trip. Somewhere sad and cold, I think. Washington, got an old friend of the family living there."

She paused talking for a moment, scanning the horizon for nothing in particular.

"Well, no. At that point he wasn't living there. Because he was dead you know. Don't what it was, but Pa said there was a big funeral or something. Really formal event, had to wear some dumb... uh, yea, some dumb pant suit. But, for children."

Fiyori paused again, this time she chuckled for herself. The image of a tiny Fiyori waddling about in some Angela Merkel cosplay was funny. Even if the reality of it wasn't the hilarity Fiyori imagined.

"So yea, we were there, in that pretty church up north in our pretty clothes. Anyway, while everyone was wailing or crying or something, I felt a bit different. A bit more poopy, if you get me. So, I was like, I need to go poop. I said that to my parents. And they were like, of course! You have to go poop, you go poop. So they showed me the toiled and I was a big girl so I went all alone.

"Then there I was, in that bathroom. I finished my business, and then started wiping. And now we get to the good part. I was wiping, and suddenly the piece of toiler paper wasn't there anymore. Like, you have to imagine. You're standing there, minding your own shit and suddenly you're lacking the paper you just held a moment ago. And you're like, 'what the fuck', because you were so sure you just held it but then you didn't. And it wasn't in the toilet. For a moment I was afraid it slipped into a leg of pants or anything while they were down, but that wasn't true either. Looked over the floor, didn't find it there.

"Really strange, I tell you. Fucked with my mind hard. For years I was puzzled about that piece of toilet paper that just vanished."

Fiyori rocked back and forth a very little. Her hands had returned to rest on her pants - also suspiciously wet - and she studied the dirt under her finger nails absentmindedly.

"I'd had hoped there was a point to this story. I think it's safe to say that there isn't."

Finally, Fiyori turned her head to look at Nate.

"I don't want to go home. I want more.

"Nate, do you?"

I'll draw your character when I'm bored
So pretty! I owe you a favor~

Rivers in the Desert
There were a few seconds that passed. Fiyori thought of what she could say in response, and came up with a few variants. Her eyes mustered the horizon, and the waves on the sea.

“Aren’t you going to try and kill me?”

Is what she eventually settled on. Word for word, the same question Nate had asked. Her voice betrayed not a single ounce of ridicule of mockery in her intention, because in the end, there was none of that. It was a sincere question. It just happened to be exactly the same as Nate's,

"You haven't seen fit to kill anyone yet..."

She waited a moment. Waited for something to trigger. Waited for the loud flash and for everything to fall dark. Nothing of that sort happened.

"...and you don't seem to change your mind anytime soon either."

Fiyori turned her head around to Nate. She gestured at the place next to her again.

Rivers in the Desert
The roof was quite big. Fiyori realized that this was the first time that she was on the roof itself. All the other times, she might have seen it from below or from afar, but that could not really count as 'seeing' it. So she had always needed to use her imagination, when the topic of the roof came up somehow. Not that it came up often, but still, as a matter of fact she had to use her creativity.

And the roof was big. Somehow, bigger than she anticipated, but also smaller. Did that make any sense? Likely not, but Fiyori didn't give a fuck.

Regardless, the cover opportunities on the roof were somewhat lacking. That was bad, she guessed. The little cover there was, was mostly a matter of sitting at the right angles and not getting looked at from the wrong angles. Not very reliable, but that was how it was.

In fact, she had already spotted a figure in the distance. Given the lack of brooding that figure partook in, Fiyori reasoned that she had just spotted Candice.

She wasn't really in the mood to talk to Candice though. If she was lucky, Min-jae would appear and distract her, and her him, for a while.

Fiyori's little walk stopped. A few strands of hair were played with as the wind flew over the asylum. She turned around, confirming that the steps she heard behind were Nate's. The two of them had reached the edge of the roof. From then on, every stop forward would be a step downward. And with a good enough chance, the last step they would take.

So instead she sat down, feet dangling freely and all. She noted the coldness of the ground, and patted the spot next to her free of dirt.

Rivers in the Desert
The weight of the gun, as heavy as it was, just now seemed to register with Fiyori. Her arm seemed to drop to the ground, for just a moment, and maybe just in her mind. Fiyori turned around.

There was Nate, and Fiyori didn't raise her gun either.


Fiyori mustered him, and found him to be in a shoddy condition. Not a surprise, of course. They all were in some shoddy conditions, more or less.

Or were they? She didn't really know about Candice, but Fiyori supposed she would see that soon enough.

Anyway, she continued to stare at him for a few seconds more. Couldn't help but smile a little seeing him. She didn't remember him being so small. Not even compared to her.

Fiyori faced away again, and set in motion.

"Come, away from the door."

Rivers in the Desert
You know, for all the introspection and thinking Fiyori had done the last few days, one thing had completely escaped her.

It wasn't really important, now, not really. In fact, maybe it was the most inconsequential of all things that mattered. Or maybe it wasn't. Fiyori wasn't so sure about these things. Either way, it was the kind of thing that made, like, super obvious sense in hindsight. The kind of thing that you suddenly realize and wonder why you never thought of it earlier.

Fiyori was different. She was black, a racial minority in Kingman. She was taller than most girls her age - hell, any age. She was a strange laughing creature that caused disgust and bewilderment wherever she went. And to top it off, her eyes had an unusual hue. Blue, and something that marked her - always, everywhere - as an other.

Being other from the others was troubling, wasn't it?

And yet, Fiyori's glasses and the clips in her hair were matching her eye colors.



The reason why she thought about it, or really, why it came to her mind was a bit simple. There was another batch of announcements. It seemed there were only four people left, Fiyori included. Min-jae survived, which was good. Really, it made her happy. Then there were Nate and Candice. Names for which Fiyori could place faces in her mind. Still, names that surprised her. She couldn't recall meeting either of them, so that was going to be interesting.

Or not.

Fiyori didn't know about that.

Regardless, the announcements had addressed her directly for the first time. And it was scathing to hear. These people, these terrorists - they had observed every single step she had taken these last ten days. They had seen it all. They had heard it all. And yet even they, in their depraved minds and morals couldn't understand what made Fiyori tick.

In the end, she was still the other. Nothing had changed in that regard. For the people in front of the screens, the terrorists and the other three saps she would - alas - forever remain an alien.

Alas? Fiyori halted.



Let's try that again.

Finally, Fiyori Senay was a god-fucking alien.


"What's up, cunts and gentle-bitches? Fi the Bee in da house!"

Silence answered. Behind Fiyori, the doors to the roof - or from her perspective now, the doors to the inside - feel into the threshold with a loud and metallic bang. She had not expected being the first one. At least, Fiyori was unable to spot anyone on the roof. That was a shame, somehow. She had hoped to make a fashionably late entrance.

Ah well.