repatriot: (control.)
𝙨𝙖𝙢 𝙥𝙤𝙧𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝙗𝙧𝙞𝙙𝙜𝙚𝙨. ([personal profile] repatriot) wrote in [personal profile] alicefelldown 2023-05-10 12:57 am (UTC)

( Her initial answer is a long, slow, incredulous blink as Sam tries to make sense of that particular question, before he settles on: maybe she’s lost. Wandering in the wastes and lost track of where she was and how to get to the nearest city. It even happened to him sometimes, especially when he went off-grid to where the roads haven’t been rebuilt yet, and the signposts have corroded you can’t even tell where you’re standing on the country’s rotting bones. It was surprisingly easy to get turned around, to find yourself headed in the wrong direction for goddamn days. )

America, ( is the man’s rueful answer, with a bit of surprisingly angry bite to it before he continues. )

The United Cities of America. A little west of Capital Knot City.

( Some of the words are familiar, ghosts of themselves, but subtly askew and unexpected for her frame of reference. United Cities?

Unheeding of how that piece of information might have landed, Sam raises his free hand, indicates with a wordless little is this okay?, before he starts to unbuckle himself from the cargo straps. It’s the smallest gesture, making himself vulnerable in those precious seconds where he’s working himself loose from that monstrous backpack. It’s baring his throat for a moment.

But, also, it’s easier to run if he’s not lugging around cases of heavy metals.
)

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