Cynara, as the world ends.

A drabble. This comes after the first couple scenes in a forum I can’t get to right now, link to follow when I can. here

July, 2011

When you have spent your entire adult life planning for the apocalypse, there is a startlingly small amount of work to be done when the apocalypse actually, much to your chagrin, arrives.

Setting up the Ranch for their horde would take time, of course, but for the summer, camping out in tents worked.

They had food, and preparations for future food. They had armament, and ammo. They had clothing, trade goods, and a visible way to make power to cover for their electric deer. They had shelter, and were making more shelter.

So Cya went visiting.

Every Kept she had held, she’d given a wooden chest filled with supplies. But Cya knew people, and she knew that, leaving her, many of them would want to get rid of anything that reminded them of her. Part of her said “screw em, then.” But the louder part of her told her she owed them at least a second try.

Useless wouldn’t open the door to her. She was willing to leave that one at “screw him.” He hadn’t been all that good, anyway.

Hroderich wasn’t exactly happy to see her, and seemed to think that the fact that she’d been right was somehow her fault.

But he was also lost and scared, and was more than willing to take her care package, and her suggestion that he head for somewhere sparsely populated, preferably with at least one but no more than three other people.

Fafnir wouldn’t open the door to her, either; she left him a care package, and left his new Kept the key to a storage locker and a few whispered words that would give the girl her freedom, if she wanted it.

Nilam wanted her to take him with her. Instead, she sent him to Pellinore, to whom she’d given the last storage-locker key.

Cabal, she told where they were going, and only Cabal. But he was doing fine, and, of anyone, didn’t need her help.

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