i don't want to set the world on fire | post-apocalyptic AU (@fxnris)
The setting sun's rays were harsh on the redhead's eyes, the heat of the sun-baked and irradiated earth beneath her feet making her sweat more than she would have liked. Water was scarce, clean water was damn near impossible to come by, and she couldn't afford to lose anymore fluids, not with the long trek she had to make across the wasteland.
Her boots crunched against the dirt and grime beneath her feet, and as she kicked at a chunk of rubble, she wondered just where it might have belonged initially, before the war had decimated nearly every known country on the face of the planet. Maybe the place had been a sprawling metropolis, considering the skeletons of skyscrapers that stood on the perimeter of her immediate vicinity. Maybe there had once been glittering lights and quaint little shops lining the streets, and perhaps there were cars always coming and going... though now they were mere husks, shells of what they once were, broken down and stripped for valuable parts, abandoned and useless. Forgotten.
Having been born after the nuclear devastation, the woman had only the stories of those old and wizened to know what life back then might have been like. A time when she didn't have to scavenge through the bones of civilization for sustenance, a time where she wouldn't have had to worry about raiders coming to rape and pillage, a time where slavers weren't a threat, or a time when there were actual trees and flowers. The vegetation she'd grown up with had been shriveled and gnarled, and it was a wonder there was anything left, a wonder how there was anything keeping the planet alive.
It had to be some cruel joke. Not that she put any stock in Providence or deities, but if there were anything of the sort, she could only imagine some... Creator sitting back and laughing at his or her miserable creations as they continued to strive though they didn't know why they bothered. He -- or she -- must have found it hysterical to continue allowing an otherwise dead planet to continue to live, its inhabitants waking each morning wondering when their generous god would eventually tire of his or her little game and end their miserable existence.
Again, though, she didn't necessarily believe in such things. But when one trekked across the country, searching for settlements and other survivors, for a place suitable to call home, it provided a lot of time for her mind to wander. Such morbidity was not uncommon in her thoughts.
But that was the life she led now. That most led, really.
Sighing, the woman wiped her forehead with the back of her hand, then held it there to shield her eyes from the harsh glare of the sun. While the sun sinking beyond the horizon was something of a blessing, providing relief from this nuclear summer, but it also meant that her prime source of light would diminish, and there were all sorts of nasty things that lurked in the dark. Mutated creatures, mutated humans, raiders, slavers... She'd have to find a place to set up camp soon, but she could get some distance in yet.
She'd needed to find a good area to start a fire anyway. The expansive nuclear wasteland was like a desert in some ways. Once the sun went down the oppressive heat you were cursing moments ago was something you begged for as you huddled in whatever scraps of cloth or blankets you might have had and hoped you didn't freeze to death. Perhaps Mercy had an advantage that settlers didn't in that respect. She knew, for the most part, what areas were safe -- enough -- to scavenge for supplies, what to look for and what was valuable to trade, how to watch her back, how to maintain her weapons and improvise if need be, and what time of the day to start setting up camp or heading back to... wherever home was at that point in time. Settlers weren't soft by any means, but there was stability in staying in one place, protected by a community and perhaps some fortifications. It took a certain kind of person to be able to traverse the ruined landscape for lengthy periods of time.
Mercy hiked her bag up further on her shoulder as she continued to wander through the ruined streets of the unknown city, honey-brown eyes continually flicking from one side of the street to the other. The occasional crashing of glass or crumbling of rubble falling from a nearby building didn't give her much reason to pause; such were the sounds of the decaying corpses of these places, but it didn't mean she would drop her guard. She'd be goddamned if she'd get herself killed for making such a foolish mistake.
So on she wandered, carefully, cautiously, riding out the last hours of workable sunlight before she searched for a place to set up camp, or before she found a stable enough building to duck into for the night.
