HOURS had passed since the lockdown and only then had gemma walker recognized the fallacy that was the supposed brightness of the bookstore . she’d only recently been informed of the blackout which accounted for her tablet’s malfunction , her video games being rendered inept , and her cellphone practically fried . but the cipher noticed not the cloak of blackness apparently lulling paragon to slumber . adaptable eyes are all seeing , then , trained and calculated to assess the body language of those around her , even in moon dust . the onus thus falls onto select professors and administrative staff to tend to the needs of their group and , gemma doesn’t mind , really . caring not for others nor having them mull about her . she’s always been the independent type , disappearing with no forewarning , venturing on escapades by her lonesome . she’s long since befriended danger , the exhilaration nothing more than morning sunlight that muffles the apparent darkness and doom around them .
still she notices , and she understands . hands scribbling a rough draft of this week’s news article for her column cease in recognition of a male figure in the corner signing profanities to himself . peculiar . and oh , how gemma loves the peculiar . « you’re very right about that , » she hums in singsong tone , signing her translation at the same time ( whatever good that’ll do , unless he , too , can see in the dark . ) « hey , by the way . i’m gemma ! » she pauses to articulate each letter , offers a bright grin as she returns to two handed signing . « mind if i sit ? seems you’re not enjoying yourself too much . thought i could offer you some company , and , oh ! i can see in the dark , so feel free to sign back . »
morgan’s signing to himself is stopped short as a voice calls out to the darkness. he had managed to find himself an isolated corner, away from everyone else, so he has no assumption the voice is speaking to anyone else. the trilling in the back of his head grows louder. he presses it down, eyes straining into the darkness as a figure approaches. female. she’s talking and, if he squints--- oh. she’s signing. morgan’s bad mood dissipates just slightly, relief budding up inside him at the prospect of being understood by someone else here. at not being effectively silenced for the entirety of this lock-down. gemma. he doesn’t know the name but he’ll accept the company. someone to distract him from the humming in his veins and mind. fuck. she can even see in the dark. what the hell is this? it’s perfect.
i’m not deaf. he quickly signs back, before catching himself. she knows asl but she’s not deaf or mute from the way she speaks as she signs--- so he’s not sure how well she knows it. i’m mute. he makes a quick slashing motion at his throat, face dark, before gesturing beside himself. go ahead. thanks. he closes the book he had been flipping through out of politeness and presses back on the need for power that’s been rising in his head since he’s seen her. there’s so much power around him. the parasite is getting restless.
yeah. until you showed up i’ve been effectively silenced. his expression gives off what tone he’d have in his voice if he spoke. it’s dark. angry. not everyone knows asl. without my phone app it’s hard to communicate. if they let us leave outside the emp effected area it wouldn’t be a problem. he finger spells problem out to emphasize what he means, face darkening. i don’t like it.
