𝐄𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬, 𝐁𝐞𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | TWD [Book 1]

LV. The Choreography of Death

In the tranquil setting of Alexandria, an air of calm prevails, the community blissfully unaware of the intense events unfolding outside of the walls. Some residents continue with their daily routines, while a couple of vigilant souls keep watch, expecting the return of their group to be routine. The day unfolds under the assumption that all will remain as peaceful as it can be in this haven.

Seated at a table, Esperanza and Freya share a space filled with an unspoken tension. Since Esperanza's arrival, their exchanges have been limited, a palpable unease lingering in the air.

Freya, haunted by the memory of Esperanza's outburst, feels a sense of curiosity and concern about the turmoil that may be brewing within the enigmatic girl. The two women lock eyes, a silent exchange laden with unspoken questions and a hesitant acknowledgment of the underlying tension that has yet to be addressed.

Esperanza, caught in the weight of her own emotions, breaks eye contact and looks down with a tinge of shame. The memory of snapping at the other woman lingers, a regrettable outburst that has left an indelible mark on the atmosphere. The reasons for her emotional turmoil remain cloaked in mystery, creating a barrier between her and the woman across the table. In the quiet of the moment, Esperanza grapples with the internal storm, aware of the need to navigate the delicate balance between vulnerability and the guarded exterior she has meticulously maintained.

Esperanza's sigh resonates through the room as she delicately places the fork on the plate, a moment of shared acknowledgment between her and Freya as their eyes meet. "I am sorry for how I snapped at you earlier. I shouldn't have. I just—"

Freya responds with a small, understanding smile, her eyes reflecting empathy. "It's okay, I pushed you too far. Each one of us has stories about how it made us the way we are, and we don't want to share. Some things are better left unsaid."

Despite the apology, Esperanza persists in her remorse. "Still, I apologize; it's not who I am." Her sincerity prompts Freya to reach across the table, placing a comforting hand atop Esperanza's. "I want to get to know you, and I want you to know me, but—"

"We don't have to share our deepest, darkest truths to get to know each other. We can start with the easy stuff, like..." Freya's voice trails off, a thoughtful expression crossing her features. "What's your favorite color?"

Esperanza lightens the mood with a playful remark. "Oh, you crossed a line." A shared moment of laughter breaks the lingering tension. "It's red. It was my mother's favorite color as well."

"Mine's pink. Cliché, I know," Freya confesses with a self-deprecating mutter. The exchange of smiles between them continues, creating a small bubble of connection. "I had a brother, his name was Josh. He died before the world fell."

"I'm sorry for your loss; grief is a disease," Esperanza points out, and the two women intertwine their fingers, establishing a silent connection. She withdraws her hand from Freya's touch, a subtle retreat that speaks volumes. "I only met my siblings a while back, after the world fell," she adds, her gaze drifting downwards. "It's a long story. I'd rather not talk about it."