Borderlands 2 Moirai
Cold dawn rose over painted hills of desert and brush, the barest traces of mountain range glimmering on the horizon. The vehicle that ate up the miles was a rickety swaying piece of terror that threatened to fall apart, or explode, at every bump and rut in the dirt road. The canvas covered truck bed sheltered a strange collection of inhabitants. Some were obvious refugees; hard times weathered clothing, slimmed bodies and sharpened eyes. Some were soldiers; built along wall-like proportions, constantly watching, modified weapons held easily in hand. And then there was one, tiny girl who sheltered underneath the arm of a large weary man who wore leadership like hard-won badge.
Her eyes weren't focused on anything but her lips moved constantly; voicing a silent stream of words not heard by anyone but the unseen audience she seemed to be entertaining. It worried the man, who frowned. He knew, had seen, what loss – violent and raw, did, was never really healed, was never really put away and she was so young, so young, the cause of the apparent ballistic confusion at the Hyperion underground testing facility that had allowed enough of a distraction for him and his men to take care of the rest.
No happy endings for anyone, only promises- of blood and fire, because Death was the surefire god of Pandora; the only promise with a solid gold guarantee.
He wondered, watched, waited for sanity to surface. Fate was a fickle bitch, why did She spare this tiny girl child for life, when maybe death would have been kinder… he would wait, and see.
The voices sang, and howled, and screamed but they filled the void, that gaping new hole where people
MOther and faTHER were
Gone
And now she was going to a new
New-
Home
But- not, because
Home is –
Where the heart is, when heart and bone and blood have been spread across Hyperion's holding cells like a painting of savage loss, because they are gone, they are smears across the campaign of war on Pandora, they are –
Lighted in the sky, like the light of,
Of
The No. 82 Gammon Bomb Grenade she had nestled hard and cold against a wildly beating heart, a heart, a heart that stopped beating when –
Aw SNAP, son –
What are little girls made of?
Sugar, Spice and everything-
nitroglycerin, exothermic decomposition of metallic chloride found in diatomic form, as the heat of explosion, or reaction will -
BOOM
bitch, you's head is gonna ex PLODE cuz' Tiny Tina says
All round' the mulber-ry bush
She chased the ban-dit
When she was done, the fun had gone
I see
What I eat is the same, as,
I Eat What I See
And his face was still grinning, still sly, he had been a wandering trader who came to the valley town peddling pieces and bits and his face,
his –
Face was that of desperation and greed and Mama never liked him, and Daddy barely put up with him because they needed
Needed, needed the supplies, the medicine, the news of the coming storm of Hyperion rule when she learned that his face was deep in blood and charred flesh-
Stick, his name was Flesh-Stick, she would remember, and someday.
SOMEDAY
She would poor Darjeeling over melted slag dolls, there would be MUSIC and,
Guests, and a table cloth and it would be the greatest
The Grandest -
"Tea party."
The man jumped, startled – the first words out of the child's mouth since he found her, carried her like a lost kitten out of the carnage of the burned Hyperion facility.
"What?"
He could see it, the change. Light, awareness, meaning had come back into her face. Eyes that found his- weary and broken but responsive and, angry.
"Crumpets!" she shouted, drawing attention from the other passengers.
"Er, I don't think we have…crumpets."
"I got those ration biscuits…" says Brick, rifling through a duffle bag.
Some rustling and murmuring from the men brought forth a canteen of water, a half eaten granola bar, some squashed chocolates and the emergency ration biscuits.
She laughed and divided the bounty and laughed still as tears fell into her biscuit but ate it anyway, and when the weary man, the one who had not left her side asked why she said,
"I'm going to throw a party, the greatest tea party in existence and YOU'RE NOT INVITED!"