THE FUTILE SO ---, OPEN LIKE WHOA.

[KYLE O'SHEA]

SHIT! NOTHING MAKES SENSE! I'LL GO WITH THE IGNORANCE!
^{THE FUTILE, THE FUTILE, IT OUTWEIGHS THE BEAUTIFUL}
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The hunger gnawed at him, an ever present worry in the caverns; well, and yes, it had been alleviated somewhat since Wanda had started helping with the scalping -- er, scouting, reconnaissance, whatever. But still, just because they had more food didn't mean it lasted longer, especially the perishables, and it had been a good few weeks since anyone felt safe enough to take newly fragile little Wanderer on a raid. So Kyle's stomach rumbled audibly, reminding him it had been a long time since his morning hard roll and coffee, and even longer since he had sunk his teeth into a piece of recently seared, still warm, slightly bloody, deliciously fragrant steak. Steak was like a holy word to Kyle, a word only to be whispered in the most reverent of tones, tones reserved for things like monday night football and digital cable and, most holy of holies, new underwear. He suddenly laughed to himself, a little hoarsely; who would've thought that soccer-playing, man-ass-slapping, sport-loving Kyle O'Shea would give a shit about something as feminine as new underwear? But still, when your elastic was shot and things were riding up places not right to talk about in polite society, you see what you start praying for.

Shaking his head wryly, Kyle bent back down to his work, watching his shovel as the dull, dirty silver blade sliced cleanly through the dirt to stick into a rock, yet another obstacle that Kyle was going to have to move to make planting possible. It felt like that was all he'd been doing lately, removing obstacles, clearing rocks, trying to make room for things to grow; and yet more in his life was given to the wilderness than ever. He spent hours each day absorbed in thought while manually breaking his back. The mindless work made it easier for him to ponder out his life and the physical exhaustion made it easier to collapse into bed at night, but neither the pondering nor the dreamless sleep made the actual reality he had to face any more palatable. Really, Kyle didn't know how his life had gotten this way, so confused and tangled and twisted back upon itself. Instinctively, he found himself looking up for Sunny, his wife-cum-soul-cum-who-knew-what who was rarely far from his side; he didn't spot her in the somewhat populated work space, but she might just be getting water for the laborers or something. Still, just because she was gone from his vision didn't mean she was gone from his mind, where she and Jodi dwelt on a disturbingly regular basis. It was hard to hate Sunny who had a personality that matched her name, but it wasn't easy for him to love her either. Some days he looked at her face and all he saw was his dead wife; and sometimes he looked at her and was absorbed by the joyous beauty that was Sunny. He didn't know what he was going to get in a day, in an hour, in a minute; it changed constantly. And if there was one thing that Kyle Andrew O'Shea didn't deal with well, it was change.

Kyle paused to wipe the sweat from eyes that were already stinging with fatigue, longing half-heartedly for a gulp of water. He should've brought some with him but foolishly hadn't, and now he was too tired and complacent to consider the brief walk to the kitchens even to quench his thirst. Deciding to take a brief break, Kyle slumped to the ground, not caring that even more dirt billowed up around him, covering what few clean spots had existed on his tattered clothing. The dust in the caverns was strange, Kyle always thought, a dark, almost purple brown, of the consistency of powdered sugar. He sometimes longed to capture the caverns, dreamed of what it would be like to use his long-rusty graphic skills to design twisting tunnels, shadowed lighting, adding on to the already creative systems. But that was a dream long since put away in hope of better times; he really needed to get his head back on straight and stop thinking about times go by. Kyle laughed again to himself, thinking suddenly of his high school class's chosen quote: The Future Is Now. They had no idea.

[SUNNY]

"Tsk." Sunny chirped as she leaned over Kyle. This was her new favorite sound to make, and this was also one of the few time she had used it correctly that day. In this way especially she emulated a small child, testing the restrain and limits of her new language by trying things out. Her forehead was creased with worry as she watched him lie in the dust, bent over precisely at the waist, her long hair making a curtain to hide her face from the rest of the room.

"I washed that yesterday," She complained lightly, tugging at battered shirt. She actually didn't mind doing the laundry and found it rather relaxing. As a result, both her and her husband's wardrobes were significantly cleaner than everyone else's. Sitting down next to him, she handed him a bottle of water. "You always forget." She said in a quieter tone, looking up at the mirror covered ceiling. The sun was at a low angle in this moment, making the roof not altogether blinding. Squinting, Sunny appreciated the beauty of refracted light, something she knew humans frequently took for granted.

Her eyes flicked down to Kyle then, and she felt her heart miss a beat. These funny physical reactions were the oddest thing about humans to her. Why did it hurt when she was sad? Sadness was an emotion, not a physical affliction. Yet, the seemed to be one in the same in this body. Her nose twitched then, a trait that had been passed down to her from Jodi- uncomfortable thoughts equal twitchy nose. Oddly enough, it was the thought of Jodi that most often invoked this reaction. She knew somewhere in her heart that Kyle only kept her so close to him, emotionally and physically, because she was in his wife's body. Still, she couldn't help but hope that some day things might be different. She looked down at her bare toes and wiggled them in the dirt, waiting for him to say something in response.