Just Flesh and Blood Exist - Riddick and Carolyn

[notyourcaptain]

She had been here for weeks now and had barely spoken to anyone. Carolyn had taken to long, long walks, wandering the city and the country outside, but always watching the sun. There had been one close call, one time she'd gotten lost and had experienced one long panic attack as she rushed home, certain she wouldn't make it back before the sun went down. She hadn't realized, until then, just how much of a mess she was. Sleeping with the lights on hadn't seemed like an issue - she just fell asleep with them on, it wasn't purposeful.

Except it was, and the thought of being caught outside at night had filled her with a terror so deep she'd spent the rest of the evening locked in her bathroom, where there were no windows. Sleep wasn't coming easily, but the food here was better than anywhere she'd stayed in a while, so it wasn't hard to make herself eat.

Carolyn spent most of her time working out. It was how she'd gotten through the academy. Fighting got her in trouble back then, so she burned off aggression in running, or boxing. She couldn't break the noses of the bastards who gave her shit, so she bruised her knuckles on a bag.

The park was nice. The air was clear and people generally left her alone. The sun came encouragingly down through the trees as she ran, keeping to the paths, enjoying the way sweat ran down her back, between her shoulderblades. Maybe she was dead. Maybe she was in a hospital somewhere. But this place wasn't too bad - so long as she kept herself out of the dark, and out of trouble.

Comments

[seesblind]

An apartment, penned in with those walls around him, each block filled with people who might as well be cattle not realising they were in another kind of cell. It was a prison they’d all accepted, but Riddick hadn’t. He’d checked it out in case there were any clues, but beyond that he hadn’t spent more than a couple minutes inside. There wasn’t any way he was going to stay in a box that had been assigned to him, no matter the comforts.

He’s set up on the edge of downtown, handing over cash for a dingy apartment that’s better than anything he’s used to even still. The landlord doesn’t ask for a name, and that’s the way Riddick likes it. Money will keep him quiet, and money is something he’s never had much issue coming by.

He still doesn’t spend much time there. Riddick is convinced he can find a way out of this place, that he can find a way back to Crematoria. It doesn’t matter how long it take, he’ll wait it out. He’s good at waiting.

The park is as good a place as any to waste a few hours. People wander through, and he takes an interest or doesn’t, sometimes following them, sometimes just hanging back, blending into the background and the trees.

Until he smells her. It’s unmistakeable, the scent of her sweat. Riddick scans the paths, seeing her coming over the hill.

“Impossible,” he growls, stepping out of the trees, stepping into her path. “You died.”