01 | Darwin | Day 45 (video)
[The display opens on the cemetery. The only interesting thing is a pile of rock and ash in front of a gravestone. How long has that been there? The cemetery isn't a wholly popular place, it could have been days. For a long moment, nothing happens. Birds chirp, wine rustles the trees.
Then-- there, do you see it? A piece of the rubble twitches slightly, then begins to roll up the pile. Another joins it in motion. Pretty soon all the pieces are shaking and rolling over each other, reshaping into the vague form of a body. A line of stones reach out towards the camera, pulling it up and in. Finally, the round shape on top solidifies into a head, complete with a face, the eyes open wide and he gasps, taking in the first breath of life he's had for days.]
Wha-- [He breathes heavily, slowly becoming more human than statue. His clothes are tattered, singed, and dusty.] What the hell?
Then-- there, do you see it? A piece of the rubble twitches slightly, then begins to roll up the pile. Another joins it in motion. Pretty soon all the pieces are shaking and rolling over each other, reshaping into the vague form of a body. A line of stones reach out towards the camera, pulling it up and in. Finally, the round shape on top solidifies into a head, complete with a face, the eyes open wide and he gasps, taking in the first breath of life he's had for days.]
Wha-- [He breathes heavily, slowly becoming more human than statue. His clothes are tattered, singed, and dusty.] What the hell?
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[ Repetitive! He knows and figures. But DAMN. ]
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What- [ Delicate question, delicate question - ] ARE you? Exactly?
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Might as well, can't hardly keep it a secret now. I'm what you call a mutant.
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[ Mutant feels derogatory in his mouth, maybe a little too much practice with the wolves and their abominations at home, but, hey, if it's what the guy calls himself, it's what he calls himself. ]
You got any other tricks up those sleeves? -Rocky... rocky sleeves.
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Sure man, but just... some other time. Give a brother a chance to catch his breath.
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But you CAN do other stuff.
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- Though kid, come on, I'm like, eighteen and rearing to go. Stiles, by the way.
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You got a place to stay yet?
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