Entry:
coming up
The incident at the Med Hut spread fast and was much talked about not only for the mysterious nature of the attempt on Evanne Remington's life by Dana Clay, sweetheart of Mech Hall and one half the founder Patrick Clay's brood, but the death of that very founder in the same location. It wasn't long until it reached the edge of town where they lived through the harsh, hushed whispers and the undeniable glances their way. Old Pat was dead, and he had nearly lost a friend. He didn't know how long he was in a state but he had ended up nearly wrecking one of his inventions in the back of the house in his anger. Patrick Clay was stable ground and one of the reasons why he had decided to stay, but now he was under precarious ground again. His still unresolved issues with Juniper Jacobs only made it worse so, and in a town like this interaction was not only inevitable but sometimes necessary.
He hadn't expected how dull the funeral had become with queues upon queued of people wanting to speak up and give their eulogies to their beloved, albeit unofficial, town leader, and he swore he saw a cloud of hopelessness come over the gathered crowd. Perhaps it had something to do with Dana's much older look-alike—her mother—who stood with a particular presence he knew Pamela had taken after. This wasn't going to bode well for them.
"Poor Evanne... Everything seems to be going to hell." Robin grunted his agreement, eyes flickering momentarily to Evanne. "Juniper made it back just in time for the funeral. I don't think she even knew what had happened. Maybe... you should talk with her."
"Why should I?" he asked his sister almost incredulously, eyes shifting over to her before caught her gaze. He looked back at his sister and brother-in-law and sighed. "She's tough. You've seem her. I don't see why she'd need my shoulder to cry on."
Dana's mother stepping up to the podium only confirmed his previous thoughts. She came down like the hammer that she had so described in her speech, and while that might have served to inspire the rest of the crowd, there was a notable lack of belief in the people. Her speech had suggested that everyone had to be rote, devoid of faults and foibles. Oh, as if she had none herself, Robin thought as the crowds dispersed, moving on to their jobs or homes.
He turned to his family and sighed. "I need a bit to think. You best head on home, and quick. Before those two start wailing for Momma's milk." He pressed a kiss to the babies' heads and sent them on their way, but not before turning to see something that sent his heart racing. "Fuck. Fuck, fuck! Virginia, Owen, you get to safety now! Stay inside. Get the kids under the blankets, make sure no sand gets anywhere on them. Cover nose and mouth. Go!"
Since there was no one there to warn anyone, he cleared his throat and yelled. "Sandstorm! Everyone get inside! Sandstorm!"
His eyes locked on Juniper, stood paralysed as she viewed the horizon. "Juniper, what in fuck—Shit." He remembered what one of these sandstorms had done to her parents—caught, buffeted, suffocated—and he realised he needed to get her out and quick. "Juniper, move!" He quickly ran over to her, finding the nearest structure they could get in and forcefully dragging her. "We have to move, or we die!"
He hadn't expected how dull the funeral had become with queues upon queued of people wanting to speak up and give their eulogies to their beloved, albeit unofficial, town leader, and he swore he saw a cloud of hopelessness come over the gathered crowd. Perhaps it had something to do with Dana's much older look-alike—her mother—who stood with a particular presence he knew Pamela had taken after. This wasn't going to bode well for them.
"Poor Evanne... Everything seems to be going to hell." Robin grunted his agreement, eyes flickering momentarily to Evanne. "Juniper made it back just in time for the funeral. I don't think she even knew what had happened. Maybe... you should talk with her."
"Why should I?" he asked his sister almost incredulously, eyes shifting over to her before caught her gaze. He looked back at his sister and brother-in-law and sighed. "She's tough. You've seem her. I don't see why she'd need my shoulder to cry on."
Dana's mother stepping up to the podium only confirmed his previous thoughts. She came down like the hammer that she had so described in her speech, and while that might have served to inspire the rest of the crowd, there was a notable lack of belief in the people. Her speech had suggested that everyone had to be rote, devoid of faults and foibles. Oh, as if she had none herself, Robin thought as the crowds dispersed, moving on to their jobs or homes.
He turned to his family and sighed. "I need a bit to think. You best head on home, and quick. Before those two start wailing for Momma's milk." He pressed a kiss to the babies' heads and sent them on their way, but not before turning to see something that sent his heart racing. "Fuck. Fuck, fuck! Virginia, Owen, you get to safety now! Stay inside. Get the kids under the blankets, make sure no sand gets anywhere on them. Cover nose and mouth. Go!"
Since there was no one there to warn anyone, he cleared his throat and yelled. "Sandstorm! Everyone get inside! Sandstorm!"
His eyes locked on Juniper, stood paralysed as she viewed the horizon. "Juniper, what in fuck—Shit." He remembered what one of these sandstorms had done to her parents—caught, buffeted, suffocated—and he realised he needed to get her out and quick. "Juniper, move!" He quickly ran over to her, finding the nearest structure they could get in and forcefully dragging her. "We have to move, or we die!"