Everything was warm and comfortable when Tasha woke the next morning, something, or rather, someone pressed against her back. Newt had his arm draped over her, his fingers brushing her stomach and his breathing slow and rhythmic. There's light through the thatching of the roof, not enough for the majority of the Glade to be woken by it, but light enough to start the day for the Runners. She doesn't want to move from her warm little reprieve, but she thought it best if she at least asked Minho if he wanted her running that day. She didn't bother waking Newt, just shimmied quietly from the bed and padded through the Glade in her pyjamas.
"Minho," the Keeper of the Runners was making his way to the map room, already dressed and ready to begin, just without his equipment, Thomas following closely on his heels. "Minho do you want me running today?" Tasha asked, her voice warm and raspy with sleep. It there was a cool breeze blowing from somewhere to the right, which made Tasha shiver and wrap her arms around herself. Thomas avoided her gaze, but Minho gave her an appraising look, before his gaze flicked to the Maze and back to Tasha.
"Thomas and I are exploring some of the outer regions, should be an easy enough run, take maybe half the day, at most." Minho murmured, his brow furrowing as he considered it, the route already planned in his head. Tasha nodded, still uncertain as to whether she was running or not that day. Minho was quiet for a moment, before his gaze was drawn to the Homestead, and he told her, "Newt needs you now." Tasha smiled weakly, but understood.
"Thanks, Min." She told him, not only thanking him for her own sake, but Newt's also. "Stay safe." She told the both of them, clapping Minho on the shoulder before turning on her heel and walking off. Minho turned also, heading towards the equipment room, but Thomas had stayed rooted to the spot, frowning.
"Hey, sorry." He called out after her, she quirked an eyebrow as she glanced over her shoulder. Minho had stopped too and Tasha's gaze locked with Thomas's. "For laughing at you yesterday." He explained. Tasha's expression went blank for a moment as she suppressed the shudder that almost erupted through her. I can't believe he had seen me so weak.
"It's OK, I'm used to it." She told him, a small, bitter smile on her lips, that really was more like a grimace than a smile. Thomas's face fell, and he followed like a lost puppy when Minho tugged him away. Tasha made her way back to Newt's room, unsure of how she felt, discomfort and dissatisfaction sinking low in her belly, but she was surprised to see him blinking blearily in the light.
"Oh, were you talking… Runner… Minho." Newt mumbled, barely conscious. She laughed quietly, her discomfort forgotten in that instant. Everything was alright as she crawled back into the bed beside Newt, letting him hold her close and make sleepy, content noises against her back. "Can we just… lie here, forever?" He asked, quietly, placing a soft kiss on her shoulder, to which Tasha smiled warmly, twisting around to face him, one of his hands still draped over her. They were lying nose to nose, and Tasha closed the space between them, kissing him softly and sweetly.
"Yeah." She mumbled and closed her eyes, slipping back into a dreamless, content sleep. It was harsh, waking up to the sharp light of the morning sky through the slats as Newt shook her awake a few hours later, around the time the others began their breakfast. His expression already weary before the beginning of the day and Tasha's face fell as her thoughts drifted to only mere hours ago, how happy and peaceful they had been. She could hear the movement of the other Gladers as they began their days and followed Newt out of the room, offering Newt a cautious smile which he returned, almost reluctantly, but he wrapped his arm around her, taking a moment to look over the Glade. There was a loud whistle from one of the others and Tasha rolled her eyes, as Newt chuckled, but they parted ways as Tasha made her way to her own bunk. Surprisingly enough however, there was someone occupying her bunk when she went to retrieve her clothes. She wondered if it was one of the others trying to prank her, but the lump was too small to be anyone who would usually prank her, so she stuck to prodding the hammock with her foot, making the occupant jump, which made Tasha jump also.
"Who the hell is that?" A wild tangle of black hair and beautiful, blue eyes peered over the lip of the hammock, glaring at Tasha. She relaxed and bent down, grabbing her clothing, avoiding the angry eyes of the Greenie.
"Tasha." She flicked her hand towards the hammock, almost forcibly nonchalant and she had to silently remind herself not to frown, "This is my bunk." It wasn't an accusation, simply a fact; Tasha didn't even really mind if she was being honest. The girl struggled to a sitting position, her legs presumably cramped beneath herself as she rested her arms on the edge of the hammock and she continued to glare at Tasha.
"They said I could have it, said it was the girl's." It took her a moment in which Tasha froze up, suddenly very aware of her own body and appearance, and a wave of uncertainty coursed through her, though her expression was carefully neutral. "Oh." Was all the other girl had to say. Tasha let out a sigh and scrunched up her face, looking over her shoulder to where a majority of the others were gathered for breakfast.
"Lazy slintheads." Tasha hissed bitterly at the thought of who would have given the girl her bunk, not that she minded, per say, but the startling lack of respect was new… well, that wasn't true either. It was probably Zart, maybe Winston. Didn't matter anyway. Seeing the girl's vaguely offended face, Tasha gave a lopsided grin, willing the tension out of her shoulders. "Not you," she assured the girl, her smile slipping, "I don't insult those I don't know." She said, simply. Teresa raised an eyebrow, almost challengingly.
"Teresa." Her voice was filled with defiance and Tasha felt a smile tugging at her lips, despite herself.
"Tasha." She replied. Teresa was silent for a moment, before snorting out a bitter laugh.
"You said that already." There was a pause and Tasha cursed silently, of course she had. Teresa seemed skeptical as she squinted at Tasha, analysing her. "Why are we here?" Teresa asked finally, her own natural curiosity overtaking her desire to be distrustful. Tasha relaxed with a shrug. "How long have you been here, then?" Teresa asked, her voice uncertain but demanding as she fired off another question.
"Two years." Tasha answered without a moment of pause and Teresa looked almost startled.
"And you still don't know?" She asked, narrowing her eyes. Tasha shook her head, feeling that same sense of vague discomfort that she had felt earlier, both with Thomas, and her initial reaction to Teresa that morning. "How do you survive?" Teresa asked. Tasha hummed thoughtfully and her smile leaned to that of a more wicked smirk.
"Make your bite worse than your bark." Tasha said, her tone only containing light notes of humour, the metaphor was amusing, but she was being completely serious.
"It mustn't be difficult when you don't say a lot." Teresa snapped, her eyes finding Tasha and Tasha clenched her jaw shut at the stinging barb, unwilling to let it show how it had affected her. Her social skills were still one of her sore spots.
"I say enough." Her tone was clipped, but she relented for a moment, "Conversation was developed by people to conceal reality." She explained, as she had to many other Greenies in the past when they inevitably got nosey. Teresa sighed, bitterly, and sunk further into Tasha's hammock, her nose and eyes still visible, along with her wild, dark hair.
"Great, just great." She muttered, seeming to deflate as she slumped back into the hammock and out of sight. Tasha shook her head, smiling, before she toed the bottom of the hammock again, gaining Teresa's attention.
"You can keep it." Tasha told her, her voice flat, but not unkind as Teresa looked up, bewildered. "The hammock." Tasha clarified, and the look of surprise on Teresa's face was the last thing Tasha saw before she left the hut, which she honestly didn't mind. What she did mind was a plank of wood almost smacking her in the face as soon as she left said hut. She skittered back with a start, rearing like a frightened horse, before she caught sight of the Builder who carried it.
"Out of the way, shank!" Gally called, not looking at her, heading towards one of the outer sections of the Homestead. Tasha huffed angrily, storming off to get some food for herself; Frypan's bacon and eggs were as good as they always were, and she was actually in a reasonable enough mood that she didn't complain when asked by Newt to spend the day with Teresa.
"Tash, you're a girl." Newt began, his voice mild. Tasha's smile was wry, and she nodded as a sign to continue, despite the wave of self doubt that came with his claim. "Could you stay with Teresa today?" She looked up at him, half-way through a bite of egg, and he continued on. "I need to oversee repairs for one of the outer huts that collapsed during the rain."
"Who knew water washed away mud?" Tasha muttered, deadpan, but she was smirking and Newt rolled his eyes, taking a bite of his own bacon. The silence between them was thick with unspoken words about everything and nothing, Tasha leaning against Newt, leg pressed flush against his beneath the table. "Yeah, I'll keep her company." Tasha mumbled, and Newt grinned at her.
"Good that." He chuckled, clearly happy with the outcome of the discussion. He headed off soon after and Tasha was left to find Teresa and bring her to where she was to be helping watch over, Alby in the Med-Jack hut. Tasha found it pleasant enough work, having discovered her own ability to sit eerily still, almost like stone, for long periods of time to freak out the other Gladers, and she honestly didn't mind the Med-Jacks. Teresa, however, was less enthused with her confinement - because honestly, that's what it was - with the weird, quiet runner.
Teresa had stopped her pacing for the fourth time that morning, and had seated herself on one of the spare beds by Alby, her legs curled beneath herself. Tasha sat beside her, straight-backed and on edge, as was her nature. "What are we doing here?" She asked that at least once an hour since it had begun, and Tasha replied with the same answer she had always given.
"People need to watch Alby." Tasha sounded almost like a broken record at this stage, her voice polite but neutral, to which Teresa huffed angrily, sick of hearing the same words over and over again. Unlike the last three times, she continued to question Tasha.
"What about the people who do that anyway?" She asked, gesturing to the window, outside of which the rest of the Glade lay.
"Med-Jacks?" Tasha asked, still calm and placid, focusing on controlling her breathing, simply to see if she could.
"Yeah." Teresa turned the term over in her mind, still trying to get her head around much of the Glader terminology. Med-Jacks, Runners, Brick-niks, Shanks, Grievers… the list goes on.
"Can't." Tasha chirped after a long pause, her eyes glued to the window, watching and waiting for something to happen, not that she assumed it would.
"Why not?" Teresa drew Tasha attention away from the window and Tasha rolled her eyes.
"They have their own posts." Tasha huffed. It had been agreed that Jeff and Clint would stay with the Builders and Slicers, who always seemed to need the most medical attention, as long as someone else stayed to watch Alby. Today, that was Tasha.
Teresa grew impatient, figuring that she could have been of more use out in the Glade, helping the others, not stuck with Tasha watching an unconscious guy. "So why do I have to sit here and-"
"Fine." Tasha's voice was short and sharp and she frowned at Teresa, cutting her off mid sentence.. "What do you want?" Teresa was silent, seeming to retract inside of herself to consider the proposition. Her expression changed from demure to bold and once she held Tasha's eye contact, she daren't break it.
"I want answers." She said, simply.
"What are your questions?" Tasha said, her face blank. Teresa narrowed her eyes, but remained quiet for the moment, before beginning slowly, considering her words very carefully.
"Where am I?" She asked. Tasha evaluated the statement before responding.
"The Glade." Teresa frowned at her and Tasha rolled her eyes, relaxing, "In a glorified prison surrounded by a stone maze where the sun never shines but it's always blue skies." She elaborated. Teresa seemed unsatisfied with the answer, but seemed to realise that it was the best she was going to get.
"Who put us here?" Her second question was a lot more difficult than the first and Tasha hummed thoughtfully before responding.
"We don't know for certain; we call them the Creators because we assume they created this place." She answered. Teresa analysed her for a moment, holding Tasha's unwavering gaze, and knew she was telling the truth.
"And Thomas?" Tasha's eyes went wide and she had to remind herself to keep her mouth from dropping open in surprise. She had not been expecting this question, but she realised she should have been.
"Thomas is…" Tasha paused, finally breaking eye contact and avoiding Teresa's gaze, "Thomas is different. Ever since he came into the Glade, everything is changing." Tasha swallowed thickly, a trickle of cold fear running down her spine as she finally uttered the words that had been plaguing her for so long.
"Everything is going to change." Teresa's eyes glazed over as she mumbled to herself, lost in her own thoughts. Tasha's head shot up, as if she hadn't heard correctly what she was sure she had.
"What?" She asked, to which Teresa shook her head, as if swishing the thought from her mind. It was Tasha's turn to be skeptical as she considered the possibility that Teresa actually knew more than she was letting on.
"Ah, nothing-" Teresa finally mumbled, suddenly embarrassed, as if she had uttered a secret. Their conversation was cut short by a thick, heavy rumbling sound and the ground shaking beneath them. "What was that?" Teresa asked, concern in her voice at was evident on Tasha's face. Tasha jumped to her feet, looking through the small window to the Glade. Gladers were coming out from the woodwork, leaving all of their jobs in the middle of the day to head to the gate, full of curiosity and obvious fear, though some tried to hide it. Something was happening, there was movement by the gate and that annoying little voice in Tasha's head made itself known once more, everything is changing.
There was a beat and Tasha looked to Teresa, who seemed confused, but willing to help. She admired the girl's drive, but she couldn't put her in danger until she was sure that there wasn't any danger at all. "Stay here." Tasha muttered, leaving Alby and a bitter Teresa as she burst from the hut and sprinted across the Glade.