hunting

[lostwithoutmyblogger]

They scramble madly for a few days.   Move fast, sleep light- and then get spotted and go to ground, tucking into a small little cubbyhole for a full day where Sherlock has to sit down, his height won't allow him to stand in full.

He keeps watch, keeps a hand in Wyatt's hair while he sleeps, thumb rubbing at the little metal word.  sherlock.

Thinking, for the time being, on the true nature of resilience.

Comments

[wrenchinplans]

Sleep is still a luxury that he was rarely allowed. All of Wyatt's muscles ache -- he's been confined to cages for years, and the constant exertion is beginning to take a toll on his body.

He still automatically sleeps in half-hour increments, cheek pillowed on Sherlock's thigh.

Wyatt comes awake slowly, blinking owlishly in the gloom. "All right?" he rasps.

[lostwithoutmyblogger]

"Mmhm."

Soothing fingers through his hair.

"All clear. Go back to sleep."

The same thing he's said every time.

[wrenchinplans]

It's a familiar type of touch, and it makes him drowsy.

"Could really stand to get clean," he murmurs, though he's too comfortable to move. "Been a few hours now since we saw anything."

[lostwithoutmyblogger]

"Yes."

He agrees, just as sleepy sounding.

"Is there a safe way to do it?"

[wrenchinplans]

"... maybe if we can find a falls. They're all over these parts, usually nobody there, 'cause were so far out of a settlement."

He reaches up, fingertips stroking over the back of Sherlock's wrist.

"Get clean, then you can sleep, eh?"

He stiffly rolls to his feet, quietly creeping out into the open.

[lostwithoutmyblogger]

He slides after him, long body unfolding somewhat reluctantly, movements all ginger and tense.

"Wyatt?"

[wrenchinplans]

"Sher?"

He stops immediately, looking back and reaching for him. Sherlock seems calmer when they're touching.

[lostwithoutmyblogger]

"How long has this world been here?"

Curious, but settled now that they're moving along side one another.

[wrenchinplans]

"No idea," he admitted. "Maybe ten years, maybe as long as our worlds."

He set his hand on his arm. It was a bit strange, Wyatt didn't hold hands. Instead he'd just set a hand on Sherlock's forearm.

"Why?"

[lostwithoutmyblogger]

"It's disheartening that no one has changed it."

That's all.

[wrenchinplans]

"Why? Nobody's bothered to change mine either."

He seems to stumble over the thought. His memories aren't the best since his breaking.

"... think they could?"

[lostwithoutmyblogger]

"My brother could."

Sherlock, not so much.

[wrenchinplans]

"Tell me about him."

As they duck under some damp vines, working through a corridor. There's a sound of falling water nearby, and though it echoes, Wyatt follows it fairly well.

[lostwithoutmyblogger]

"He's mechanical. He stores information and renders the output precisely. He controls everything he can, from the traffic lights to the surveillance on my flat."

[wrenchinplans]

Wyatt laughs, squeezes his arm.

"Creeper."

[lostwithoutmyblogger]

"It doesn't matter."

He answers, taking the final few steps to the water.

"Even if I do make it home, I doubt we'll speak again."

[wrenchinplans]

"Dun get along?"

He sounds troubled to hear it. Wyatt reaches up to strip off his shirt. No shame about nudity in the least.

[lostwithoutmyblogger]

"No one gets along with either of us."

He informs him.

"And we are no exception, even together."

[wrenchinplans]

"... we get along just fine."

Wyatt seems baffled.

[lostwithoutmyblogger]

"Once we're out of survival mode, that will change."

Joining him in stripping down, at last.

[wrenchinplans]

"Bullshit," Wyatt told him, very clinically, thoughtfully.

And he splashes into the spring, immediately going under and coming up, shaking his head.

"Oh," he groaned. "Good."

[lostwithoutmyblogger]

He settles down to sit at the edge of the water, watching him swim.

"You don't know a thing about me."

[wrenchinplans]

"Know enough to know you care about people, and you en't that type of deliberate idiot. En't able to stand those."

Backstroke.

"Got a realistic, good opinion of yourself. But you're surprised as anything when somebody points out somethin' good about you."

[lostwithoutmyblogger]

He slips into the water, almost silently, not quite aware how much of a doge it looks like. He never means to be obvious, it just happens.

"You're humanizing me excessively."

[wrenchinplans]

"You're only human, en't you?"

Everything is so simple, for Wyatt. It's nice at times. He gives Sherlock a splash and a grin.