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Aug. 4th, 2015 11:01 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
jailbroke[ So it goes.
For the last few weeks, strange things have been happening in this part of the world. Giant waves hit the beaches, ruining resorts; fishermen disappear, and the ones who make it back report mysterious whirlpools and the sight of something horrible churning the water from beneath the surface. The newspapers are saying it's global warming, and the rags are saying it's the end of the world. Michiko subscribes to the latter opinion -- probably the Mayans were just off a couple of years -- but she can't say she's that worried. For one thing, the last few days have been downright peaceful. For another, yet another symptom of the upcoming apocalypse is the sudden earthquakes that have rocked the country, wrecking cities and causing power outages.
Like the one that short-circuited Diamandra's security system for a full six hours. She's not the only convict to have sprung that shithole anymore, just the first. And as long as the media keeps reporting on all the other escaped murderers, and all these natural disasters, she's not the top priority. Not the man's priority, anyway. She knows someone else who's probably madder than a nest of hornets the size of her fro, but she can go to hell if she thinks she's going to come quietly again. She's already wasted 15 years in jail for a murder she knows she didn't commit. Was she supposed to just ignore a sign from god?!
Anyway. Atsuko can't track her unless she finds Hatchin, and this time she can't just follow a map straight to her foster home. She's with Hiroshi (she's so sure he wouldn't abandon her -- she has to be), who the fuck even knows how many countries away at this point. She knows how to look after herself, even when the person she's with doesn't, and that was when she was only a little brat. It's August; she'll be thirteen now.
Shit, she suddenly thinks, she probably looks totally different too. Probably hit a growth spurt, got her period. Bet the hair's the same, though. When she was in Diamandra the first time, she always pictured her as an infant; now, she keeps on thinking of her as a little girl. The image of Hiroshi trying to explain tampons and bras to Hatchin is funny enough to keep her from getting melancholy over what she's missed, and she snorts unattractively to herself. Luckily, the beach is almost completely deserted; the only thing in earshot is the fruity little celebratory drink she's been working on. There's not a cloud in the sky, and the temperature is perfect, but even where she is -- right the fuck by the street alongside it, as far from the water as possible, taking no chances -- nobody wants to risk it. Nobody expects anyone to be out by the ocean now. Diamandra's famous outlaw is no exception.
When a wave suddenly lands by her feet with a clap so loud the glass falls from her hands, she remembers why that is. The pink bleeds into the seafoam, and the tiny umbrella is swept out to sea, lost forever. RIP. ]
SHITTY GODDAMN MAYAN INTUITION! [ she shouts, grabbing her bag and her sandals (they have heels..... of course they have heels) and vacating her chair with a vengeance. She's been in the ocean during a storm before. Like hell is she letting fucking Quetzalcoatl drag her back in again. ]
For the last few weeks, strange things have been happening in this part of the world. Giant waves hit the beaches, ruining resorts; fishermen disappear, and the ones who make it back report mysterious whirlpools and the sight of something horrible churning the water from beneath the surface. The newspapers are saying it's global warming, and the rags are saying it's the end of the world. Michiko subscribes to the latter opinion -- probably the Mayans were just off a couple of years -- but she can't say she's that worried. For one thing, the last few days have been downright peaceful. For another, yet another symptom of the upcoming apocalypse is the sudden earthquakes that have rocked the country, wrecking cities and causing power outages.
Like the one that short-circuited Diamandra's security system for a full six hours. She's not the only convict to have sprung that shithole anymore, just the first. And as long as the media keeps reporting on all the other escaped murderers, and all these natural disasters, she's not the top priority. Not the man's priority, anyway. She knows someone else who's probably madder than a nest of hornets the size of her fro, but she can go to hell if she thinks she's going to come quietly again. She's already wasted 15 years in jail for a murder she knows she didn't commit. Was she supposed to just ignore a sign from god?!
Anyway. Atsuko can't track her unless she finds Hatchin, and this time she can't just follow a map straight to her foster home. She's with Hiroshi (she's so sure he wouldn't abandon her -- she has to be), who the fuck even knows how many countries away at this point. She knows how to look after herself, even when the person she's with doesn't, and that was when she was only a little brat. It's August; she'll be thirteen now.
Shit, she suddenly thinks, she probably looks totally different too. Probably hit a growth spurt, got her period. Bet the hair's the same, though. When she was in Diamandra the first time, she always pictured her as an infant; now, she keeps on thinking of her as a little girl. The image of Hiroshi trying to explain tampons and bras to Hatchin is funny enough to keep her from getting melancholy over what she's missed, and she snorts unattractively to herself. Luckily, the beach is almost completely deserted; the only thing in earshot is the fruity little celebratory drink she's been working on. There's not a cloud in the sky, and the temperature is perfect, but even where she is -- right the fuck by the street alongside it, as far from the water as possible, taking no chances -- nobody wants to risk it. Nobody expects anyone to be out by the ocean now. Diamandra's famous outlaw is no exception.
When a wave suddenly lands by her feet with a clap so loud the glass falls from her hands, she remembers why that is. The pink bleeds into the seafoam, and the tiny umbrella is swept out to sea, lost forever. RIP. ]
SHITTY GODDAMN MAYAN INTUITION! [ she shouts, grabbing her bag and her sandals (they have heels..... of course they have heels) and vacating her chair with a vengeance. She's been in the ocean during a storm before. Like hell is she letting fucking Quetzalcoatl drag her back in again. ]
