The Outside [1x1 - romamaro & TheZanta]

romamaro

Well-Known Member
The sun beats down on the countryside, blistering temperatures of 51°C scorching anything in its path. The sky is a clear blue and the sun is high in the sky. The plains are a rich green, but a little far away, the grass becomes wheat. Beyond that, there is a cute little house. It is painted sky blue and must have at least three stories, with a porch out the front. To the left of it, there are dozens of trees, all dotted with lipstick red dots. There is more around it from the look of it, but all that's really visible is the house, the trees, and the large fields of wheat.

There are little black dots moving around. They're obviously people. They all look so happy, harvesting wheat and apples. There are children running through the long grass, squealing as they play tag. A teenage boy tells one of them off with a harsh slap on the back, but as soon as he does, he raises one hand to the sky for a good five seconds, before going back to his harvest. Every so often, somebody will lift their hand to the sky for no apparent reason.

There is one girl who is near the end of the wheat field. She is wearing a pale pink dress that comes down to the middle of her calves with short sleeves. Her blonde hair is tied up into a high ponytail. She is holding a sickle, but she looks exhausted and very close to overheating. She carries a leather bag over her shoulder that is filling up with wheat, but not it's not one hundred percent full yet. She slices halfheartedly at the wheat, panting and dragging a white handkerchief across her forehead.
 
'Christ, it's too god-damned hot to be doing this.'
A worn out sneaker landed on the grass next to an arid dirt road. The sneaker belonged to a ragged, but strangely young man, who had to stop his bike in its tracks before he contracted heat stroke. He let the bike sit on its side and he dropped a reasonably sized duffel bag next to it as he yanked up his faded blue jeans that were clearly too loose on him, and he wiped the excess sweat from his forehead with his hand. So much for making it into town today, then.

He'd been in motion for a good six days. At least, that's what he counted. To be perfectly honest, he wouldn't even be able to tell you what state he was in right now, let alone what day it was. You'd think he has no friends at all, which is why he moves around so much, but he'd tell you he has friends across the country. You'd think he was indecisive, but he'd tell you he has his life perfectly sorted out. Just...

Maybe not perfectly sorted out right now. He had no idea where the hell the nearest gas station or motel was for miles, if there was one anywhere at all. His battery-pack wouldn't last much longer, and his pathetically outdated flip phone would soon be of little use to him after the battery-pack died out. This wasn't the best place to pause a trip.

Reaching into his duffel bag, he pulled out a massive bottle of Gatorade, which was impressively nearly empty. He'd have to find somewhere to replenish his supplies, he was running dangerously low on his necessities. He savoured what was left in the bottle, and drank from it steadily and carefully. It probably didn't do him many favours to have not had a haircut in so long. His wavy brown hair flowed down close to his shoulders, and his much-tanned face was scruffy with thick facial hair. Soaking in a sweat-drenched shirt wasn't helping either. He slipped the shirt off and threw it into his duffel in exchange for a breezy under armour tank top. He heaved a heavy sigh. Standing around out here wasn't going to help him much. Taking the bike by his side and slipping the duffel over a shoulder, he trudged away from the road in search for a spot to retire at.
 
As a figure approached the farm, multiple people in the fields paused.
"Hey, is that Marlin?" A boy asked, lifting a hand up to shade his eyes.
The girl in the pink dress perked up, bouncing onto the balls of her feet. "I-I'll go check!" She chirped. She dropped her sickle to the ground and rushed out of the field, her bare feet hitting off the ground.
"Ruth, come back!" The same boy shouted after her. "Shepherd Brennus won't be happy!"

Ruth instantly froze, still looking out at the figure coming closer to the farm. She tapped her fingers together. "Shepherd Brennus'll understand! Marlin'll be carrying a lot of bags, and it's roasting!" She shouted back, before starting to run again.
The boy in the field opened his mouth to protest, but he just sighed, shook his head, and muttered something under his breath before going back to his work.

Ruth ran the whole way, despite the sweltering heat. As she got closer, she started to notice more things. Marlin was a tall, muscular, twenty-three year old man, with long dark hair and a matching beard. When he had left that morning, he had been carrying a large backpack, and two duffel bags, and had been wearing a tan button-up shirt shirt and brown suspenders. Whoever it was on the horizon only had one duffel bag, and some odd thing by his side that Ruth had never seen before. He wasn't even wearing the same clothes.

Ruth stood there in the long grass, hugging her arms close to her as she carefully watched the stranger. "M-Marlin?" She called nervously.
 
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This walk seemed fruitless after a while. It appeared the only thing that populated this part of the area was an abundance of green plains and lack of phone signal. His green eyes grew wearier by the minute. Not much was stopping him from slumping into some patch of grass and calling it for the day. He couldn't recall ever veering this far off from human contact since his trip began, and the lack of any sort of town or city for what seemed like miles was rather discouraging.

However, as he continued to walk, he noticed something coming up over the horizon. He smiled eagerly. Even he'd no idea what it was, it wasn't grass, trees, or bulls. As he continued, however, he became much more cautious, and the smile quickly vanished. He could identify a farm and some people, but it seemed they noticed him approaching and paused at his sighting. They're so far away from the closest town, they must not be expecting people to come by at all. The last thing he needed to be doing today was invading private property, and it already seemed that he may be an unexpected or unwelcome visitor. Damned if he was turning back though. He'd made it this far, surely he could convince them to let him in. Hopefully they aren't armed and trigger happy, he'd endured enough encounters with that type in the Southeast.

As he got closer to this new-found house, he noticed there was someone running towards him. Too late to run back now, he noted uneasily. As he pieced out the details of the person running towards him, he realized it was a girl in a pink dress, probably not any older than he himself was. Her hair was up in a ponytail and it seemed the heat probably wasn't treating her too well, either. He stopped uncomfortably in his tracks. The girl seemed to identify him as a "Marlin" as well. Not many people said he resembled someone they knew.

"Er, unless someone has been lying to me for a good couple of years, I don't believe that's my name," he responded to the girl carefully. He hadn't spoken in a while, his voice was weak, but deep and resonant.
 
Ruth opened and closed her mouth for a few seconds, lifting her handkerchief across her brow. Certainly not Marlin. She pushed herself onto her tip toes to look across the fields, but there still wasn't any sight of the man. She took a few steps backwards, eying the mystery man carefully. She glanced back towards the farm. Everyone seemed to have presumed it was Marlin, and gone back to their various jobs.

She looked back at the man. He looked absolutely boiling, and not in the best of states. She thought back to Shepherd Brennus' last lesson, about how the leaders of the Outside filled the food with diseases. Under normal circumstances, she had been taught to never speak to somebody from the outside, because most of them were spies out to hurt you, but this man looked sick. He needed help, and they could give that help. Maybe they could save him along the way. She cleared her throat. "Did they make you sick?" She asked.
 
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He sighed in relief, confident that there was no intent to attack him for the time being. He shifted uneasily, though, as her eyes observed him as if he were some unknown species to her. He shifted his duffel bag in front of him, barring himself from any advances for the moment. It then occurred to him what she actually asked him. Did they hurt him? Was there someone else in the area who had been attacking this group of people?

"Uh, nope. I'm peachy," he said. "Just a tad exhausted, I've been biking in this weather for a bit too long." He put his hand to his forehead. No wonder he must have seemed sick. He could feel himself burning in the heat.
 
Ruth shook her head. "You probably just don't know it yet." She claimed, voice having a know-it-all tone to it. Despite this, her gaze drifted to the odd thing beside him, curiosity on her face. "But...what is 'biking'?" She asked, thinking back to more lessons with the Shepherds, but she couldn't recall anything about biking. She gestured to the thing with handlebars. "Is it to do with that? What is that?"
 
He froze. He quirked up an eyebrow, "Are you for real?" he asked in disbelief. He grasped the bicycle by his side. "Y-yeah. This is a bicycle. It's like, a way to get places faster." He tried as hard as possible not to sound condescending, but probably wasn't able to avoid it. "The pedalling just tires you out after a while." He scratched the back of his head. "Who exactly are they?".
 
Ruth nodded slowly. "A bicycle," she repeated, reaching out and touching the handlebars with one finger. She moved her hand away and cradled it close to her chest, tight lipped. It probably had some sort of chemical on it that had made the man sick.
When the stranger asked who 'they' were, she responded with her own raised eyebrow. She shook her head and chuckled. "The false Shepherds, of course." She said it as if it was so obvious. "They make the rules and kill you if you don't follow them. And they fill your food and water with disease. That's why you're sick." She nodded. "Speaking of which, why don't you come back to the house? Shepherd Brennus has medicines." She pointed over her shoulder with her thumb.
 
As he continued to speak to the girl, he found himself reconsidering what he was doing. Shepherds? Are these people Amish or something? Do the Amish not have bikes? There are false Shepherds? Apparently the Gatorade he was drinking was poisoned this whole time, as well. It took a good bit of him to avoid turning and running. That good bit of him being how drop-dead exhusted he was and having some place to rest that isn't outside.
He smiled calmly, despite being the least bit calm. "I'd really appreciate that," he responded, still keeping the duffel in front of him in guard. "Er, I hope I'm not intruding at all."
 
Ruth shook her head with a smile. "Don't worry about it. There's plenty of room!" She turned around and started to walk, wiping her forehead down with her handkerchief again. "What's your name, by the way? I'm Ruth."
 
He followed behind reluctantly, bike at the side and duffel over the shoulder. Some sort of vibe in the air made him less than eager to follow by her side. It even made him unsure to even speak his name. After some hesitation, he spoke. "My name's Lukas." He stared uncomfortably at the house and the people in the distance. "Do all of those people live in that house?" He questioned with a finger out, noting the precariously small size of the abode and the surplus of supposed habitants.
 
Ruth smiled. "I like that name. There's a boy called Luke, but he's little, so we won't get you two mixed up." She sounded like she was assuming Lukas would be staying for a long time. She nodded. "Of course we do. It's bigger than it looks, and we share rooms too." She said with a nod. She looked down at her wrist, where there was a basic leather watch. "Ooh, lunch's in ten minutes. Shepherd Ethel was going to make scones, you've got to try them." She insisted, talking about the scones like a normal girl of her age might talk about a particularly nice dress. With that, she picked up the page a little, jogging briskly.
 
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Lukas laughed uneasily. "I'd hope you wouldn't confuse us," he croaked meekly. Hopefully he wasn't getting himself into more of an obligation than one night. He tugged on the collar of his tank. He tried to pick up his pace in vain, "I'm sure the scones are nice, but I've a lot to carry, here!" He said with a weary chuckle.

It was at least obvious to him now that Ruth had no malicious intent towards him, but there was definitely something curious about her and what he knows of these 'Shepherds' that he just didn't quite grasp. They're probably just a group of Amish or something like that, right? They're so secluded from nearby communities that it sort of makes sense. He doesn't remember anything about the Amish being concerned about modern technology being poisoned or diseased. It seemed rather superstitious. Lukas shrugged it off for the timebeing. What kind of harm could they possibly intend to inflict on a visitor?
 
Ruth looked over her shoulder. She hesitated, before holding out her arms. "Here, I'll...take that." She said slowly. She really felt like she shouldn't take it. It could have all sorts of diseases on it to make her sick and brainwash her. She decided that she could have a shower afterwards, but she would have to be quick about it. If she took too long then all the scones would be gone.
 
Lukas smiled at her. "You sure? If it's diseased or whatever, you don't need to get sick, too." He half-joked playfully with her. He ran a hand through his own hair, and his hand came out dampened with sweat. He wiped his hand off on his jeans. "Don't worry about it," he assured her.
 
Ruth smiled nervously. "Okay," she said with a nod, turning around to keep on walking. She paused. "You'll have to have a shower before eating. So you don't get sicker." She warned as they got closer to the farm.

A few minutes later, they were there. There was only one person outside still, a boy around Ruth's age who stood holding a sickle. "What took you so long?" He shouted to Ruth, before he realised that the man walking behind her wasn't Marlin. As soon as Ruth was in touching range he grabbed her by the wrist and pulled her forwards, eyeing Lukas defensively.

"Who is this, Ruth?" He whispered.
"His name is Lukas. He's sick!" Ruth pointed at him, as if it was obvious.
The teen glanced at Lukas and looked him up and down, still holding Ruth by the arm so tight that his fingers were leaving an imprint. "What's that?" He asked Lukas, nodding at the bike.
"It's called a bicycle, Simon. You pedal it and it takes you places." Ruth said eagerly.
The teen, Simon, glared at Ruth, shutting her up. "You can't bring that inside. It'll make the kids sick." He paused. "You can't take any of that inside. It'll make everyone sick. Do you want to kill us?"
 
So they were all like this. That's wonderful.

He couldn't get too angry, they must have some misunderstanding on what the outside world is like, and for the most part, at least one of them were willing to accept him as long as he doesn't bring his fearsome, disease-ridden 21-speed mountain bike in. He could use the shower and company, and Ruth appeared to be willing to provide that for him.

Lukas looked down at his bicycle blankly, turning the handlebars inward and outward. "I don't quite see what about this would make someone sick," he mumbled with a blasé tone. "If it makes you sick to ride a bicycle, you might just be out of shape." Looking back up at the teen, he shrugged. "If you insist, though, I could ditch all this stuff until I need to be on my way. I promise to you, I have no intent to cause any harm."
 
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Ruth tugged her arm out of Simon's grasp, looking down at the white marks in her skin. She rubbed them slightly as she waited for Simon to respond.

The teenage boy folded his arms. "It's not riding it, or whatever the hell you do with it." He growled. "It's what your damn leaders do. You just don't realise it because you've lived your whole life sick."
Ruth huffed. "C'mon, Simon, we're going to miss lunch. He'll shower before he eats, so he won't make anyone sick." She promised.

Simon hesitated, looking from Lukas to his equipment. "Leave that stuff way out there. Keep it away from the wheat fields." He said sternly. He glanced at Ruth, then at his hand. He visibly shuddered, turned on his heel and rushed back towards the house.

Ruth went tight-lipped, looking down at her arm. She looked up at Lukas. "Sorry about him." She mumbled.
 
Lukas watched the teen walk away in silence, and shrugged in disconcern. Looking back at Ruth, he sighed, "It isn't the worst welcoming party I've had, at least," with a tired laugh. "Hell, I need a shower anyway."

He ran a hand along the bike frame idly. "I'm not entirely sure I get the whole thing about, everything I'm using is poisoned or toxic or whatever. Frankly, I'm just beat after biking for nearly a week. I think anyone would be." He took his hand away and wiped it off on his jeans in a half-hearted effort of playing along. "Regardless, where am I putting all this, then?"
 
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