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The clouds were a fresh white, compared to the smoke that had clouded the skies for days, brought in by wind over the ruined island. But slowly darkened as the rain started to fall, eventually becoming a downpour.
The green tarp held steady in the rain, the peak of it held by a rope between the two posts, and edges a few inches off the ground. Balalaika had insisted Revy be kept separate from her men, for the sake of decency. Her shelter was the remaining option.
Revy twisted in the thin sleeping bag, looking at the larger form sitting up across from her, the small lantern near her foot still lit and flickering. A nearly finished cigarette sat between her lips, and in her hand, a plain pad of paper, writing. It was stranger, still, to see the woman half in her military apparel. The smell of perfume had gradually faded, and Revy wished she could bury her face in her hair, but it was tied back completely now, and Balalaika refused to let it be tangled by Revy’s raking hands. She twisted away.
Balalaika set the paper down back in the bag. She stood, or rather crouched in the low shelter, dressing in her raincoat, leaving to check the rest of camp and speak to her comrads.
-
The ground grew wet from the sheer amount of rain, the occasional bit of mud between broken concrete sticking to her boots as Balalaika walked through the camp back to the tent. The fire was out, now, too. She bristled with irritation, knowing the uncovered wood, and some of the covered wood would have to be dried before it would burn properly.
The tent had been set up on relatively high ground, on a bit of concrete. She walked around, shining her light on the outside to check the perimeter before re-entering. Water had pooled around the far edges. She stepped back into the tent, looking at Revy’s sleeping form.
She had already stirred from the light shining outside the tent, coming to full wakefulness quickly, “Sis?”
“Are you wet?”
The bottom of the sleeping bag had grown damp and a bit cold, but Revy drew her legs up closer to avoid it. She glanced down and back at Balalaika, “A little. God decided to take a piss on the island, huh?”
Balalaika didn’t reply, and inspected her sleeping bag and the remainder of their equipment, taking her raincoat off and messing with the laces until it could lay flat, rolling up the sleeping bag and arranging the two so it formed a barrier between the ground, and then started taking her boots and additional equipment off.
“What is it?”
“Come here.”
“Hmm?”
“Mine is still dry.”
Revy came out to the sleeping bag like a snake shedding its skin, looking at Balalaika. The lantern's light flickered over scarred skin as the olive jacket was shrugged off, and Balalaika shifted into the bag, holding the edge open for Revy to join her. She carefully stepped between the bags, crouching down.
“Thanks.”
Balalaika reached for the lantern, shutting it off and plunging the tent into relative darkness.
“It will be warmer this way,” she stated, reaching behind her to close the bag’s zipper.
“Miss sleeping with me?” she smiled.
“Perhaps,” Balalaika’s arm pressed against her back, pulling her even closer until Revy’s face was pressed against the blue-striped shirt, and Balalaika’s larger frame and the warmth there.
Revy let out a content sigh, tightening her arms around her. She smelled good, still, somehow . Like comfort and smoke.
Balalaika was silent, running her hand through Revy’s ratted hair. Revy would have had to cut it days ago had she not insisted on doing something. She could hardly see in the darkness, even as her eyes adjusted, but she could see Revy’s head buried in her chest and warmth bloomed there; the sound of the rain and Revy’s breathes quieted, and they fell asleep, side by side in the darkness, at the end of the world.