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A Delicate Machine
[ *  *  *  *  *  * ]

They were acquainted now, at least. Trav laid down, and after a few moments of hesitation, Cass followed suit. It seemed a bit too casual, too unguarded, but Cass had already fought against their natural defenses tooth and nail just to get this far. Besides, out of context, there was something romantic about two near-strangers, thrown into hell together but still taking the time to breath to talk and watch the sunrise together. It was easy to rest your eyes on the blue sky above, clearer than it was at home. Let your mind wander, pretend you were safe.

It couldn't have lasted forever, but Cass wished that Trav could have waited longer to bring them back down to reality. Their transient peace hadn't been worthless; their numbness had faded away, but their mind-numbing terror and sorrow hadn't come back to replace it. Maybe it was the presence of another person, maybe it was the time and distance from their initial shock, but Cass felt like it was safe to exist now, however passively.

"Lay here until I die or I can think of a good reason to leave, I guess," Cass said. Planning to survive meant making a conscious choice to consider that your life alone was the most valuable, that you deserved to live more than any other person on the island. Cass didn't, plain and simple.
a tribute for the dead and dying

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Five Finger Death Punch · The Rooftop