the joker to the thief [open]

[MORGAN JANE FARREN]

i can't go back, i'm haunted

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She had to resist muttering something snarky under her breath. Nell was so optimistic. It seemed even the worst that could happen would only be an extension of something new and good. It was almost as if, in Nell’s mind, there was no such thing as evil or misfortune. Everything was simply a new opportunity. Morgan hadn’t witnessed it first hand, but she had this idea that Nell was the sort who would smile and laugh and shine in the rain. She’d find a way to see the joy in loss. It was unimaginable really, almost unreal. It was as if she simply pretended misfortune couldn’t touch her. But it was more than pretending. It was a belief, a faith or a religion of some sort. Morgan had never been the religious sort. She couldn’t come to terms with the idea of a wrathful God, or any god for that matter. What sort of benevolent being would watch his people suffer, and not do a thing for them? How many people had been broken, destroyed, despite their prayers and devotion? She had nothing against religion. But she couldn’t see it for herself. In a sense, she believed in nothing, not the earth and not the stars.

She cracked a smile at the thought of a game warden stumbling upon them. She couldn’t guarantee that by the time they were found, Nell would still be alive. Survival of the fittest right? “Be warned, I have no qualms with resorting to cannibalism.” And considering their natural strength, the simple realism of their elements – well it was likely Morgan would win in a fight. Not that she liked to actively plan the consumption of her friends. But in an emergency, she liked to think she could suck it up and eat another person. Nell’s shout pulled her from her thoughts. Without her realizing it, they had hiked quite a distance. Water was spread before them. And despite Morgan’s grumpy sarcastic nature, she had to admit it was beautiful. She crouched, picking up a round stone and rolling it in her palms. Her father had taught her to skip rocks as a child, and she’d always meant to do the same for Emmy. She drew her hand back, sending the stone flying. It skipped three times before sinking to the bottom. Her lips twitched towards a smile and she folded her arms over her chest. “I’m the family skipping champion.” She arched a brow, light in her usually dark eyes. It was a challenge, but a teasing one. Her books and motivations, her concerns and irritations, were gone perhaps for a single blessed moment.