#s4ints / alina starkova.

[wastedlands]

@s4ints : wars never die. they just go to sleep.

it's terribly quiet sitting on the front porch of the trading post. he can't sleep as usual, his head filling with thoughts to compensate for the silence. luke never really considered the constant hum that exists in the boneyard until he left, a fan on low or chatter from the next building over creating a layer of insulation. in the desert, there is simply nothing. not even the creak of wind blowing through the shell of a house. it means that he jumps as she settles down next to him, neither speaking for a long moment. ❛ it's just so empty out here. ❜ he eventually comments, picking at his thumb's nailbed with his index finger. he did see the crop of destroyed houses coming out east, so there was some kind of a town before the great war. he doesn't know much about the war itself, only that it was really short and it's what made the world what it is. ❛ i can't help but think if the great war did... all of this. if there was more life before. ❜

she responds softly, arms hugging her knees to her chest. he turns to try and get a glimpse of her expression, dark brows knitting together. her words felt particularly pointed and he considered how he still didn't know where she came from before the trading post. with a sigh, luke looks back out to the desert draped by the night sky. ❛ well, it's still asleep then. that must be a good thing. ❜