Sons bury their fathers,
That’s how things are done.
But it’s a very sad day,
When a father buries his son
—  A poem my grandfather told me at my uncles funeral before bursting into tears
No Repercussions || Closed

It had been a couple of weeks since Lith had been dragged back to the Zones against her will. Everyday was spent in a repeating loop of gambling, getting high, and getting drunk. One of Party’s old shacks had become her refuge, away from prying eyes. It amazed her how she hadn’t been caught yet.

At the moment, she was completely trashed, a cocktail of chemicals flowing through her veins. In her intoxicated state, she drove with out any destination in mind. Only when she almost hit the old diner, did Lith stop.

Stumbling through the front doors at an ungodly hour, the woman spotted a redheaded man sitting in one of the booths. Lith made her way over, ungracefully collapsing next to him, using his body to brace her own. “Hey there, Party~” she giggled drunkenly. ‘What’re you doin’ up so late?”