Sometimes fate is like a small sandstorm that keeps changing directions. You change direction but the sandstorm chases you. You turn again, but the storm adjusts. Over and over you play this out, like some ominous dance with death just before dawn. Why? Because this storm isn't something that blew in from far away, something that has nothing to do with you. This storm is you. Something inside of you. So all you can do is give in to it, step right inside the storm, closing your eyes and plugging up your ears so the sand doesn't get in, and walk through it, step by step.
( a sigh left her lips. ) “Guess so, I can’t really be picky can I?” ( though even when the world turned people into savages - that didn’t mean she had to act like one. she was still a girl after all. so when she took her share of the food she had her bandanna in hand. )
“Not if y'wanna live.” ( when she sighed, he watched her for a brief moment before returning to his food. it didn’t bother him that she still had some manners, after all, she was a grimes. )
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