three days / a heart ablaze / in a red haze // m.t. + words

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Success. Word number one is caught without much of a fuss, and as I debate whether or not to stuff it in my bag for the time being or simply to let it chill, I take note of something.

See, there was an interesting thing that came with the supplies I nabbed back on the first day, something that actually looked sort of familiar. I've seen people smoke on something similar back then, though this one looks almost inviting where the toxic tobacco clouds back home had always been something to avoid.

And yet I'd snagged it anyway, perhaps to connect me to home, perhaps for some other reason, who fucking knows. Day one Maxwell seems like a whole different person now, and I don't know what he was thinking by adding some sort of cancer stick to his inventory

But fuck it - if I'm going to die, then who fucking cares if I shorten my remaining life span by a fraction of a day if the timeline predicts I'll live to eighty? At the rate I'm going, I'll be surprised to live past eighteen.

I put the bright pink thing to my mouth, inhale, and then exhale. Almost immediately, I cough - Why is that so fucking fruity?

Above me sounds another HONK.

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So close. No joke, I actually felt tail feathers with that attempt, but this second word doesn't seem nearly as eager to get snatched up than its companion did. The first one lets out another HONK, though whether she - I'm pretty sure she's a she, anyway - is cheering me on or mocking me I cannot tell.

What. Can you speak delivery word? Yeah, that's what I thought.

Speaking of the noisy little beasts, seems like the slippery little shit has friends, for now there's three circling over my head, diving into range before zooming out again. Yep, definitely mocking.

Just my luck that of all of the delivery words in the arena, I had to find the teenage delinquents, right? Guess this is karma for the times I let myself go back home, dropped the stern older brother persona and actually had fun doing some stupid shit. Fucking Jordan.

HONK. HONK. HOOOOOOONK.

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Fucking hell. Clearly, Two was the dumb fuck word of the bunch, for the other two are more cunning in their descents, in their teasing of me and my reflexes. Or maybe I just got lucky, though the fact I have two words on my shoulders and not one says otherwise.

I briefly wonder if I should have invited Auto, before deciding that no, she needed her time to heal, to take the events of the day in. This is my way of coping, and as weird and utterly hilarious that doing dumb teenage shit like smoking bright pink tubes and catching honking fowl was to me, who knows if it would be to her or not.

You know who would enjoy this though? Jordan would. This whole kind of carefree nonsense was the sort of shit he got himself up to all the damn time, even as I was the one with a palm on my face and my head shaking in the corner.

Maybe I should have...

Nah. That's too depressing for right now. I've already had enough debbie downer shit in the last couple of days to last me a lifetime. And since mine is counted in hours instead of years, I'm not going to dwell on it.

"C'mon, you little fuckers, show me what you got!" I yell to the world, daring it to challenge me.

Only a HONK sounds in response.

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