((Alice Baker continued from 1ИS∅MИ1∀))
Their search for Sandra bore no fruit. They searched as much of the asylum as they could until they were too tired to continue, but they couldn't find her. It seemed like she had only been gone for a few minutes when they left to find her, so why did she seem to just disappear?
Well, once morning came, their search was effectively over, since the announcements revealed that she had died after falling off the roof. Alice didn't really want to trust anything that the terrorists said, but at the same time... she was pretty sure that the announcements had always been accurate, so she didn't see any reason to doubt it. She felt profound disappointment at the revelation, and that didn't improve when the announcement ended by revealing that thanks to the setup of the Danger Zones, they were now essentially locked in the asylum until their ordeal came to an end.
Alice's hopes of escape were fading. Sandra was dead, they still had no weapons between the three of them, and their movement had been severely restricted. She didn't voice these concerns, though. In fact, she didn't say much of anything after the announcement for fear of bringing the mood down.
Eventually, they found their way to the art therapy room, one of the only places left where they could get a somewhat decent view of the outdoors thanks to the massive structural damage. Alice placed herself on a stool and looked outside, wondering if she would ever be able to experience that sort of freedom again.
Dark clouds were rolling in, and she could hear thunder. Rain was coming.
Rain, Rain, Come Again
((Bryony Adams continued from 1ИS∅MИ1∀))
She had run out of playing cards.
The only food she had left was a stale crust of bread and less than a quarter of a water bottle.
Even with her hoody on and her arms wrapped around herself, she was still shivering uncontrollably, wind whistling through the shattered window, broken branches dragged along the ground by unseen hands, catching on faded and tattered watercolour paintings.
Bryony's situation couldn't have been much worse, and so she tried desperately to focus on that, because the alternative was for the announcement to play over and over again in her mind.
She, like Alice, was huddled on one of the few stools that weren't broken or rotted, facing the window and the great tree that had ploughed through it and what little of the island she could see beyond that. Her eyes bored through everything, seeing nothing, barely moving aside from her shivering. She didn't care what she looked at. Just so long as it wasn't Alice or Candice. She was too hollow to cry now, but she was certain that would change if she caught their eye.
For all intents and purposes, they had failed. They had totally failed at everything they'd set out to do. They hadn't found Alba. They hadn't found anyone aside from Candice. They hadn't even managed to find a weapon. Worst of all, they'd lost someone, someone very close to Bryony. They'd lost her, without even so much as a goodbye or the realisation that she was dead until it was too late, or...
Bryony felt the familiar burning pinpricks in the corners of her eyes, and quickly swivelled round on the stool, trying to find something else to look at. Her vision fell on the easel standing next to her, a half finished charcoal sketch hanging on it at a crooked angle. She recognised the tower in the centre of the picture, cliffs looming behind it, even with the bell itself missing from it.
It wasn't a very good sketch, in all honesty. The linework was shaky and there were smudges all over the paper.
Bryony desperately wished she had the chance to draw something that bad. But there were no pencils lying around. No charcoal, no paint, no pens, no crayons. Not even any chalk. The terrorists hadn't left anything to chance.
She sniffed. Just once. Then turned back to face the window as the rain started to roll in.
She had run out of playing cards.
The only food she had left was a stale crust of bread and less than a quarter of a water bottle.
Even with her hoody on and her arms wrapped around herself, she was still shivering uncontrollably, wind whistling through the shattered window, broken branches dragged along the ground by unseen hands, catching on faded and tattered watercolour paintings.
Bryony's situation couldn't have been much worse, and so she tried desperately to focus on that, because the alternative was for the announcement to play over and over again in her mind.
She, like Alice, was huddled on one of the few stools that weren't broken or rotted, facing the window and the great tree that had ploughed through it and what little of the island she could see beyond that. Her eyes bored through everything, seeing nothing, barely moving aside from her shivering. She didn't care what she looked at. Just so long as it wasn't Alice or Candice. She was too hollow to cry now, but she was certain that would change if she caught their eye.
For all intents and purposes, they had failed. They had totally failed at everything they'd set out to do. They hadn't found Alba. They hadn't found anyone aside from Candice. They hadn't even managed to find a weapon. Worst of all, they'd lost someone, someone very close to Bryony. They'd lost her, without even so much as a goodbye or the realisation that she was dead until it was too late, or...
Bryony felt the familiar burning pinpricks in the corners of her eyes, and quickly swivelled round on the stool, trying to find something else to look at. Her vision fell on the easel standing next to her, a half finished charcoal sketch hanging on it at a crooked angle. She recognised the tower in the centre of the picture, cliffs looming behind it, even with the bell itself missing from it.
It wasn't a very good sketch, in all honesty. The linework was shaky and there were smudges all over the paper.
Bryony desperately wished she had the chance to draw something that bad. But there were no pencils lying around. No charcoal, no paint, no pens, no crayons. Not even any chalk. The terrorists hadn't left anything to chance.
She sniffed. Just once. Then turned back to face the window as the rain started to roll in.
"bryony and alba would definitely join the terrorists quote me on this put this quote in signatures put it in history books" - Cicada Days, 2017
Alice let her hands rest on her knees as she kept looking out the window, or rather, the gaping hole that used to have a window in the general vicinity. Her thigh was still throbbing every once in a while. She had already gone through a good amount of bandages and antiseptic trying to maintain that wound, but it still kept hurting, even days after the bullet grazed her. At this point she wasn't sure if it would ever completely stop.
It was hard to explain how she felt using any words that weren't synonyms for "miserable". She was tired, stressed, hungry, unsatisfied, and felt that time was running on an hourglass that was on the verge of running out. She had been lucky enough not to die, but not lucky enough to escape or find any way to defend herself. It was a cruel luck. And with all that she had been through, she felt no desire to do anything but sit and wait. She was simply drained.
The room was a canvas of both the faded effects of the old asylum and the fresh death that had coated the room since her class' arrival on the island. And yet there she sat, one of the few living things left after so much suffering had gone on around her.
She turned to look at Bree as the sound of the rain began doing its part to set the mood. She didn't have much to say, only one thing that was on her mind at that moment.
"I'm sorry."
She didn't have anything in particular to apologize for. She was just... sorry. For everything.
It was hard to explain how she felt using any words that weren't synonyms for "miserable". She was tired, stressed, hungry, unsatisfied, and felt that time was running on an hourglass that was on the verge of running out. She had been lucky enough not to die, but not lucky enough to escape or find any way to defend herself. It was a cruel luck. And with all that she had been through, she felt no desire to do anything but sit and wait. She was simply drained.
The room was a canvas of both the faded effects of the old asylum and the fresh death that had coated the room since her class' arrival on the island. And yet there she sat, one of the few living things left after so much suffering had gone on around her.
She turned to look at Bree as the sound of the rain began doing its part to set the mood. She didn't have much to say, only one thing that was on her mind at that moment.
"I'm sorry."
She didn't have anything in particular to apologize for. She was just... sorry. For everything.
((Candice Banks continued from INSOMNIA))
They shouldn't have let Sandra go off on her own.
That seemed to be the running theme from the last week of Candice's life. Any time she parted ways with someone, they turned up dead before she had a chance to see them again. Like, literally every time. No exceptions.
No survivors.
It may have been worse in this case because Sandra's death seemed all that more preventable. After all, if someone you travelled with got gunned down while on their own, there's at least that feeling sometimes that you wouldn't have made a difference. That feeling where you know that if you had been present, it would've just ended with you taking a bunch of bullets as well. But this was an accident... how hard would it have been for someone who was there to just warn Sandra that the edge of the roof looked dangerous?
As a result, Candice had imposed a new rule on herself. No matter what happened, she wouldn't let Bryony or Alice out of her sight.
Well, a phrase like "imposing a rule" might be a bit too strong, implying that Candice was going to some great lengths to avoid breaking her vow. The fact of the matter was that none of them -- not Alice, not Bryony, not Candice herself -- had any willpower left. It was easy to keep the three of them together when nobody had the desire to go anywhere in the first place.
After yesterday's wake-up call regarding their food supplies, Candice had limited herself to half a ration yesterday, and now with the arrival of a new day she was truly and completely out. Bryony should have been out as well, and while she hadn't pressed Alice for exactly how much food she had left, it probably couldn't be that much. So on top of being demoralized, the three of them -- or at the very least, Candice -- had next to no energy left. Nobody was just "gonna walk around" anymore.
It's not like there was anyplace that they could go, as well. As of this morning, this building where their group had chosen to hide out had become the only choice for a hideout. Candice found it amazing how quickly she had gone from feeling entrenched to feeling entrapped.
They shouldn't have let Sandra go off on her own.
That seemed to be the running theme from the last week of Candice's life. Any time she parted ways with someone, they turned up dead before she had a chance to see them again. Like, literally every time. No exceptions.
No survivors.
It may have been worse in this case because Sandra's death seemed all that more preventable. After all, if someone you travelled with got gunned down while on their own, there's at least that feeling sometimes that you wouldn't have made a difference. That feeling where you know that if you had been present, it would've just ended with you taking a bunch of bullets as well. But this was an accident... how hard would it have been for someone who was there to just warn Sandra that the edge of the roof looked dangerous?
As a result, Candice had imposed a new rule on herself. No matter what happened, she wouldn't let Bryony or Alice out of her sight.
Well, a phrase like "imposing a rule" might be a bit too strong, implying that Candice was going to some great lengths to avoid breaking her vow. The fact of the matter was that none of them -- not Alice, not Bryony, not Candice herself -- had any willpower left. It was easy to keep the three of them together when nobody had the desire to go anywhere in the first place.
After yesterday's wake-up call regarding their food supplies, Candice had limited herself to half a ration yesterday, and now with the arrival of a new day she was truly and completely out. Bryony should have been out as well, and while she hadn't pressed Alice for exactly how much food she had left, it probably couldn't be that much. So on top of being demoralized, the three of them -- or at the very least, Candice -- had next to no energy left. Nobody was just "gonna walk around" anymore.
It's not like there was anyplace that they could go, as well. As of this morning, this building where their group had chosen to hide out had become the only choice for a hideout. Candice found it amazing how quickly she had gone from feeling entrenched to feeling entrapped.
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Muninn. While this handler hasn't been around in quite a while, should they return and wish to take custody of this account and/or its posts, they are welcome to do so by contacting staff.
"I'm sorry"
[[Fiyori Senay, continued from Battle Royale]]
"I am not."
With that, Fiyori stepped out from the darkness and fired the Raging Bull. It still felt like an odd gun, with the way it jerks Fiyori's body, even though she had used it some time now. Honestly, even she herself would have spontaneously said that she wasn't good at hitting people with it. Despite, of course, killing two anyway.
Fiyori scratched her chin. It might have been possible for the three to see her already. After all, if Fiyori could look into the art room from the corridor, the trio could reasonably look from the art room into the corridor. Either way, she decided she would enter the room. So she started walking slowly to the room.
When the ringing of the gun subsided, Fiyori could hear the clouds coming.
[[Fiyori Senay, continued from Battle Royale]]
"I am not."
With that, Fiyori stepped out from the darkness and fired the Raging Bull. It still felt like an odd gun, with the way it jerks Fiyori's body, even though she had used it some time now. Honestly, even she herself would have spontaneously said that she wasn't good at hitting people with it. Despite, of course, killing two anyway.
Fiyori scratched her chin. It might have been possible for the three to see her already. After all, if Fiyori could look into the art room from the corridor, the trio could reasonably look from the art room into the corridor. Either way, she decided she would enter the room. So she started walking slowly to the room.
When the ringing of the gun subsided, Fiyori could hear the clouds coming.
Gervais Frans Lambotte 
Blue Jeans and Bloody Tears Martini-Henry Rifle MkIV Pattern
||Selection|Clicks|Lonely|
Blue Jeans and Bloody Tears Martini-Henry Rifle MkIV Pattern||Selection|Clicks|Lonely|
Bryony loved the rain. She loved light drizzles, where you could go out for walks and not bump into anyone and hear the rain pattering against her umbrella and be left alone to her thoughts. She loved heavy showers, where she could sit at her desk with a hot mug of coffee or cocoa and a work in progress sketch in front of her, and watch the raindrops slide down the window. She loved thunderstorms, where she could huddle under a blanket at night in her room, the only light coming from whatever video game she was playing and the brief flashes of lightning shining through the window.
She wanted to think that if she closed her eyes, she would be able to magically transport herself to a safer place in her head, a place where it was cold and it was raining but she was dry and out of harm's reach and she could just stay seated with her eyes shut, and nothing bad would happen to her.
But that was impossible. There was just too much that tied her back to the island. The freezing chill, making the metal wrapped around her neck feel almost unbearable, the scraping of branches along the ground, the constant sound of paper flung every which way by the wind, the eternal stab of hunger.
And her friends, in the same boat, a few feet away from her.
Bryony looked down at the floor between her feet. Her arms fell to her sides, hands gripping tightly to the edges of the stool. She stayed that way for several seconds, Alice's words hanging in the air, before she turned to look at her friend, a forced smile on her face and tears sparkling in the corners of her eyes.
"It's okay. You don't have to apologise for anything. I don't know if I'd have made it this far if it wasn't for you."
The words never made it out of Bryony's mouth. Gunfire, a sound all too familiar to her now, ripped through the doorway of the art room, and Bryony screamed, toppling backwards from the stool as she tried to spin round. Her head slammed against the floor with a sickening thud, and her vision blurred. She desperately tried to clamber to her feet, but she felt like she would throw her guts up if she did. So she crawled. She crawled behind the easel, as if that would protect her, ears ringing and head pounding, the wind and rain picking up by the minute. She couldn't tell if the shooting had stopped yet, all her senses overwhelming her, so she stayed frozen, hoping that the shooter would leave.
Praying that Alice and Candice hadn't been hit.
She wanted to think that if she closed her eyes, she would be able to magically transport herself to a safer place in her head, a place where it was cold and it was raining but she was dry and out of harm's reach and she could just stay seated with her eyes shut, and nothing bad would happen to her.
But that was impossible. There was just too much that tied her back to the island. The freezing chill, making the metal wrapped around her neck feel almost unbearable, the scraping of branches along the ground, the constant sound of paper flung every which way by the wind, the eternal stab of hunger.
And her friends, in the same boat, a few feet away from her.
Bryony looked down at the floor between her feet. Her arms fell to her sides, hands gripping tightly to the edges of the stool. She stayed that way for several seconds, Alice's words hanging in the air, before she turned to look at her friend, a forced smile on her face and tears sparkling in the corners of her eyes.
"It's okay. You don't have to apologise for anything. I don't know if I'd have made it this far if it wasn't for you."
The words never made it out of Bryony's mouth. Gunfire, a sound all too familiar to her now, ripped through the doorway of the art room, and Bryony screamed, toppling backwards from the stool as she tried to spin round. Her head slammed against the floor with a sickening thud, and her vision blurred. She desperately tried to clamber to her feet, but she felt like she would throw her guts up if she did. So she crawled. She crawled behind the easel, as if that would protect her, ears ringing and head pounding, the wind and rain picking up by the minute. She couldn't tell if the shooting had stopped yet, all her senses overwhelming her, so she stayed frozen, hoping that the shooter would leave.
Praying that Alice and Candice hadn't been hit.
"bryony and alba would definitely join the terrorists quote me on this put this quote in signatures put it in history books" - Cicada Days, 2017
Alice felt like she had just been punched in the head. The gunshot hadn't harmed her, but the sound left her ears ringing and her head pounding. Startled, she turned on her stool and dropped to the ground, looking to the entrance to see who had just tried to assassinate her and her friends.
The appearance of Fiyori Senay combined with the rain gave her pause. Her mind returned to that day when Fiyori had walked home with her. She had seemed so nice back then. The present situation was almost like a cruel mockery. Once more they had met each other in a downpour, but now Fiyori had a smoking gun in her hands that she clearly had no qualms about using.
This island really did things to people. Terrible things.
Alice basically had every disadvantage possible. Fiyori was at least a foot taller than her, she had a weapon, and she had killing intent. Alice, by comparison, was unarmed and just wanted herself and her friends to be able to live, which was looking more and more like a tall order with every passing moment.
The rational part of her mind didn't know what to do, so the impulsive part took over. She made the decision to rush Fiyori. The other girl was taller, but she was really skinny. If Alice could get one good shot on her at full speed, she might be able to topple her and escape with Bryony and Candice. She may not have had a weapon, but she had five feet and one hundred pounds of desperation at her disposal, and she was going to use it.
She pushed off with her bad leg, feeling a burning sensation. She didn't care. She was fully focused on tearing across the room to get at Fiyori.
The appearance of Fiyori Senay combined with the rain gave her pause. Her mind returned to that day when Fiyori had walked home with her. She had seemed so nice back then. The present situation was almost like a cruel mockery. Once more they had met each other in a downpour, but now Fiyori had a smoking gun in her hands that she clearly had no qualms about using.
This island really did things to people. Terrible things.
Alice basically had every disadvantage possible. Fiyori was at least a foot taller than her, she had a weapon, and she had killing intent. Alice, by comparison, was unarmed and just wanted herself and her friends to be able to live, which was looking more and more like a tall order with every passing moment.
The rational part of her mind didn't know what to do, so the impulsive part took over. She made the decision to rush Fiyori. The other girl was taller, but she was really skinny. If Alice could get one good shot on her at full speed, she might be able to topple her and escape with Bryony and Candice. She may not have had a weapon, but she had five feet and one hundred pounds of desperation at her disposal, and she was going to use it.
She pushed off with her bad leg, feeling a burning sensation. She didn't care. She was fully focused on tearing across the room to get at Fiyori.
Candice tried to ignore the pain in her limbs as she lay on the floor. While it would have been nice and action-y to describe herself as having dove onto the ground to dodge the gunfire, the truth was that with Candice's physical capabilities, it was more like a semi-deliberate fall. Her knees and forearms were all scraped up, and given the condition of the floor probably infected with who-knows-what, but those were at best minor inconveniences that were more than balanced out by the fact that as far as she could tell, Candice had not been shot.
Well, it seems that they weren't aiming for me anyway.
Keeping herself to the floor, Candice tried to look at the situation. The gunshot had been accompanied by a scream that she was pretty sure had been Bryony's. She must have been on the floor as well, because Candice couldn't see her from where she was.
She had probably been hit. Candice couldn't tell for sure, but neither could she bring herself to move closer to get a better look. Or to help, for that matter. She couldn't bring herself to budge from her current position because of the girl in the doorway.
Fiyori Senay. That girl had somehow managed to sneak up... no, it wasn't really sneaking if Candice's group hadn't been paying attention to their surroundings. It was something that they had previously been more careful about, but learning about Sandra's fate had affected them. They had gotten lax. As such, Fiyori now stood in the exit to the room, holding a gun that was just waiting to be fired again.
Well, it seems that they weren't aiming for me anyway.
Keeping herself to the floor, Candice tried to look at the situation. The gunshot had been accompanied by a scream that she was pretty sure had been Bryony's. She must have been on the floor as well, because Candice couldn't see her from where she was.
She had probably been hit. Candice couldn't tell for sure, but neither could she bring herself to move closer to get a better look. Or to help, for that matter. She couldn't bring herself to budge from her current position because of the girl in the doorway.
Fiyori Senay. That girl had somehow managed to sneak up... no, it wasn't really sneaking if Candice's group hadn't been paying attention to their surroundings. It was something that they had previously been more careful about, but learning about Sandra's fate had affected them. They had gotten lax. As such, Fiyori now stood in the exit to the room, holding a gun that was just waiting to be fired again.
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Muninn. While this handler hasn't been around in quite a while, should they return and wish to take custody of this account and/or its posts, they are welcome to do so by contacting staff.
Why did Fiyori try to kill Alice?
Well, the most simple answer was easy to provide. Alice was storming at Fiyori, and Fiyori had a gun she was ready to use at people.
For the world at large, that was all that mattered.
Yet for Fiyori, there was something else at play.
The wind howled outside, and the gun would roar once again. She pulled the trigger.
No wait, her finger slipped!
When Alice came in all her one-hundred-pound glory, Fiyori let out a cry of shock. Then she tumbled, and got thrown on the ground.
Well, the most simple answer was easy to provide. Alice was storming at Fiyori, and Fiyori had a gun she was ready to use at people.
For the world at large, that was all that mattered.
Yet for Fiyori, there was something else at play.
The wind howled outside, and the gun would roar once again. She pulled the trigger.
No wait, her finger slipped!
When Alice came in all her one-hundred-pound glory, Fiyori let out a cry of shock. Then she tumbled, and got thrown on the ground.
Gervais Frans Lambotte Blue Jeans and Bloody Tears Martini-Henry Rifle MkIV Pattern
||Selection|Clicks|Lonely|
Blue Jeans and Bloody Tears Martini-Henry Rifle MkIV Pattern||Selection|Clicks|Lonely|
There was an explosion ripping through Bryony's head, that grew larger with every passing second. Her ears were still ringing, and she felt dizzy even on her hands and knees. The world around her was a complete blur, the dark clouds and total lack of light in the ruined art room making everything even more incomprehensible.
She could barely make out Alice, or Candice. She still had no clue who the shooter was. She thought she heard footsteps but it might have been her own pounding head. She thought she heard a cry, but it could have come from herself. The wind, the tornado, the hurricane, filled every corner of the room, and it felt like the end of the world.
She needed to do something. Anything. She tried to push herself up again, and once again, her stomach revolted. Her scrabbling hands fell upon something on the ground, something heavy, solid. A weapon, finally. As barebones of one as possible, but she couldn't afford to be picky.
She needed to do something. She needed to start by getting up, and her head felt like it would split open at the mere thought of that. Somehow, with agonising slowness, she pulled herself up, using her weapon as a crutch.
She needed to do something. She needed to do something about the shooter, something to help Alice, something to make sure they all got out of there alive. But her mind was still overwhelmed, noise and pain pounding against her head, and, just like every time she had been overwhelmed before, just like when she had been at the gym so long ago with Alba and Kimiko and Bradley, she froze.
She froze, until it was too late for her actions to have done anything regardless.
She needed to do something. Her mind wasn't letting her, her thoughts locked on solely to pain and confusion and hoping that Alice was alright and not the hows of making sure that would happen.
So her body took over.
And she ran.
((Bryony Adams continued in A History of Bad Decisions))
She could barely make out Alice, or Candice. She still had no clue who the shooter was. She thought she heard footsteps but it might have been her own pounding head. She thought she heard a cry, but it could have come from herself. The wind, the tornado, the hurricane, filled every corner of the room, and it felt like the end of the world.
She needed to do something. Anything. She tried to push herself up again, and once again, her stomach revolted. Her scrabbling hands fell upon something on the ground, something heavy, solid. A weapon, finally. As barebones of one as possible, but she couldn't afford to be picky.
She needed to do something. She needed to start by getting up, and her head felt like it would split open at the mere thought of that. Somehow, with agonising slowness, she pulled herself up, using her weapon as a crutch.
She needed to do something. She needed to do something about the shooter, something to help Alice, something to make sure they all got out of there alive. But her mind was still overwhelmed, noise and pain pounding against her head, and, just like every time she had been overwhelmed before, just like when she had been at the gym so long ago with Alba and Kimiko and Bradley, she froze.
She froze, until it was too late for her actions to have done anything regardless.
She needed to do something. Her mind wasn't letting her, her thoughts locked on solely to pain and confusion and hoping that Alice was alright and not the hows of making sure that would happen.
So her body took over.
And she ran.
((Bryony Adams continued in A History of Bad Decisions))
"bryony and alba would definitely join the terrorists quote me on this put this quote in signatures put it in history books" - Cicada Days, 2017
Success! Alice managed to bring Fiyori to the ground, but she still had the issue of the gun to deal with. She couldn't get a good eye of where the weapon was, so she tried to restrain the taller girl as best she could. She wrapped her arms and legs around Fiyori's thin frame, managing to entangle an arm. She wasn't sure if it was Fiyori's dominant arm, but anything that kept her from continuing to attack would be useful.
"Run!" She called out to the others, trying to clear the room before Fiyori would wiggle free. Alice had never been the strong or athletic type, but she had a death grip on the other girl and wasn't planning on letting go anytime soon, at least not until she knew how she would escape this situation once her friends had made it out. Her mind was running at high speed, trying to plan her next move.
"Run!" She called out to the others, trying to clear the room before Fiyori would wiggle free. Alice had never been the strong or athletic type, but she had a death grip on the other girl and wasn't planning on letting go anytime soon, at least not until she knew how she would escape this situation once her friends had made it out. Her mind was running at high speed, trying to plan her next move.
Unfortunately for Alice, it was not Fiyori's dominant arm that she entangled. Had it been in a different situation, perhaps where Fiyori was healthy and nourished, she would have thrown Alice to the side in a moment.
Unfortunately for Fiyori, she was still injured. Pain seared in her side and - ah, yes, that was it. That was the thing she longed for. It was pain. Her body, hers and hers alone was aching and screaming and maybe bleeding and that was the best.
As Alice was wiggling, Fiyori spotted a moment where her foe's movement weakened for a moment. She took the chance, and rolled to the side. She laughed, and as she landed on the side she kicked with her knee and pushed with her arm and soon Fiyori was free again.
Her eyes darted to the side. Her gun in her hand again, she rose to her feet. Fiyori stumbled on them, took a misshapen step back, but aimed the gun at the girl below her. Their eyes met for a moment, and a breath's moment passed.
Fiyori aimed the gun away from Alice.
Unfortunately for Fiyori, she was still injured. Pain seared in her side and - ah, yes, that was it. That was the thing she longed for. It was pain. Her body, hers and hers alone was aching and screaming and maybe bleeding and that was the best.
As Alice was wiggling, Fiyori spotted a moment where her foe's movement weakened for a moment. She took the chance, and rolled to the side. She laughed, and as she landed on the side she kicked with her knee and pushed with her arm and soon Fiyori was free again.
Her eyes darted to the side. Her gun in her hand again, she rose to her feet. Fiyori stumbled on them, took a misshapen step back, but aimed the gun at the girl below her. Their eyes met for a moment, and a breath's moment passed.
Fiyori aimed the gun away from Alice.
Gervais Frans Lambotte Blue Jeans and Bloody Tears Martini-Henry Rifle MkIV Pattern
||Selection|Clicks|Lonely|
Blue Jeans and Bloody Tears Martini-Henry Rifle MkIV Pattern||Selection|Clicks|Lonely|
Alice fell back as Fiyori pushed her away, the back of her head hitting the floor sharply as she did so. She held her injured head and loudly sucked air through her teeth as she rolled over to look back at Fiyori.
Fiyori was laughing, and it wasn't the kind of laugh that Alice was used to hearing. It wasn't a light chuckle, nor was it a belly laugh like someone had told her a really funny joke. No, this laugh sounded straight-up demented, like something out of a scary movie. It was pretty horrifying to hear coming from an actual person that was only about a foot or two away from her.
Somehow, this situation was even more like a bad dream than it already was. Alice felt like at any moment, one of her friends would wake her up and she would be on the bus, or maybe at home, recovering from a really awful nightmare.
Alice watched Fiyori get to her feet and prepared for the worst, but something weird happens. Fiyori stared her dead in the eyes, but she didn't aim the gun at her. Actually, it looked like she was pointing it away on purpose. Was it really hesitation? Was this the thing that Alice was hoping for? Could she really get through to her?
... No. She couldn't count on that. Diplomacy wouldn't work here. Fiyori came in guns blazing and laughing like a maniac. Alice couldn't trust a word that came out of her mouth, although it looked like talking had gone off the table as an option for her a while ago. She had to get out, and she had to do it fast before Fiyori started getting wild again. She placed her hands on the ground and picked herself up, keeping a sharp eye on Fiyori's gun the whole time.
Alice's eyes widened as she saw the gun move back towards her.
Fiyori was laughing, and it wasn't the kind of laugh that Alice was used to hearing. It wasn't a light chuckle, nor was it a belly laugh like someone had told her a really funny joke. No, this laugh sounded straight-up demented, like something out of a scary movie. It was pretty horrifying to hear coming from an actual person that was only about a foot or two away from her.
Somehow, this situation was even more like a bad dream than it already was. Alice felt like at any moment, one of her friends would wake her up and she would be on the bus, or maybe at home, recovering from a really awful nightmare.
Alice watched Fiyori get to her feet and prepared for the worst, but something weird happens. Fiyori stared her dead in the eyes, but she didn't aim the gun at her. Actually, it looked like she was pointing it away on purpose. Was it really hesitation? Was this the thing that Alice was hoping for? Could she really get through to her?
... No. She couldn't count on that. Diplomacy wouldn't work here. Fiyori came in guns blazing and laughing like a maniac. Alice couldn't trust a word that came out of her mouth, although it looked like talking had gone off the table as an option for her a while ago. She had to get out, and she had to do it fast before Fiyori started getting wild again. She placed her hands on the ground and picked herself up, keeping a sharp eye on Fiyori's gun the whole time.
Alice's eyes widened as she saw the gun move back towards her.
G005: Alice Baker- Deceased
6 Students Remaining
6 Students Remaining
The ringing of the gunfire had left the room a long while ago. There was only Fiyori's ragged breath, and the clouds rumbling in the distance.
Her gun was still aimed at Alice. The girl was laying on the floor, in a puddle of her own blood.
Aside from that, it was all quiet. Too quiet.
Fiyori had expected something different here.
Some kind of triumphant feeling, or maybe a burst of adrenaline-boosted satisfaction. Honestly, she would have taken the feeling of sudden dread, or maybe even regret (even if she was having no idea what she could be sincerely regretting). Hell, even if it was a bit demented, she would have loved to laugh at the carnage she just caused.
But instead nothing came. No smile, no tear. No gasps or victory cries.
It was almost as if she didn't actually kill Alice. Even though she did. Or maybe not. Fiyori wasn't very sure now that she was thinking about it like this.
...
Her head turned to the side. She had noticed on of the three people pass her. The second just died, so the third was still hiding in the art room.
She took a step forwards.
But then she decided against it.
[[Fiyori Senay, continued in In The Court of The Crimson King]]
Her gun was still aimed at Alice. The girl was laying on the floor, in a puddle of her own blood.
Aside from that, it was all quiet. Too quiet.
Fiyori had expected something different here.
Some kind of triumphant feeling, or maybe a burst of adrenaline-boosted satisfaction. Honestly, she would have taken the feeling of sudden dread, or maybe even regret (even if she was having no idea what she could be sincerely regretting). Hell, even if it was a bit demented, she would have loved to laugh at the carnage she just caused.
But instead nothing came. No smile, no tear. No gasps or victory cries.
It was almost as if she didn't actually kill Alice. Even though she did. Or maybe not. Fiyori wasn't very sure now that she was thinking about it like this.
...
Her head turned to the side. She had noticed on of the three people pass her. The second just died, so the third was still hiding in the art room.
She took a step forwards.
But then she decided against it.
[[Fiyori Senay, continued in In The Court of The Crimson King]]
Gervais Frans Lambotte Blue Jeans and Bloody Tears Martini-Henry Rifle MkIV Pattern
||Selection|Clicks|Lonely|
Blue Jeans and Bloody Tears Martini-Henry Rifle MkIV Pattern||Selection|Clicks|Lonely|