(This is pretty much for the sake of having a new thread for the inevitable death herein. Feels wrong to have it follow right on from what happened in The Guilty Ones. And I'm pretty sure there's room for at least one more thread here anyway.)
[The Guilty Ones --> Ema Ryan]
Still in a light-headed fugue was Ema Ryan, as she trudged northwards along the beach. She didn't even know it was north, it didn't occur to her to check against the morning sun to see which way she was going. Just watch out for cliffs and listen for beeping, and everything'll be fine.
It hadn't even occurred to her to check if Hayley had gotten up to follow her or not. She was planning to go back after stretching her legs and getting some air in her lungs, after all, so it didn't really matter. What mattered was removing the hideous ache from her head, and walking it off was the only solution that Ema could think of. Have a walk around, breathe the sea air, maybe it'll improve. Have a drink of water afterwards. Something like that.
So Ema walked. Meandering about across the sand, with no real sense of purpose. Maybe she'd discuss the next destination with Hayley later. She didn't really want to discuss the prior night's events, but they'd probably come up too. That was part of the reason for the walk, putting off the inevitable morning-after conversation.
The awkwardness coming up soon slipped from Ema's addled mind, though, as she noticed the patterns left in her footprints, entirely meaningless lines that somehow brought a smile to her face. She couldn't begin to guess why. Leaving an impression, even a temporary one, on the island, maybe? That sounded poetic enough. But it was no time for waxing poetic, Ema just wanted to turn her brain off for a little while.
She wanted to walk.
So she did.
The Youngest Was The Most Loved
The Youngest Was The Most Loved
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[[Sapphire McLeod continued from Keep On Smiling]]
Running forever. Of course.
She had forgotten what had happened.
Somehow that was probably for the best. Mainly because she seemed to have red on her.
It smelt bad.
Real bad.
Usually she'd kind of be freaking out at the fact she couldn't remember.
Then again, she didn't want to ever remember again.
And then there was suddenly beach, sand, water.
Sapphire McLeod slowed down to a crawl, watching the water. How long had she been running for?
Goddamnit, she couldn't remember.
Slowly, she fell to her knees and cried. For a reason she couldn't remember.
Running forever. Of course.
She had forgotten what had happened.
Somehow that was probably for the best. Mainly because she seemed to have red on her.
It smelt bad.
Real bad.
Usually she'd kind of be freaking out at the fact she couldn't remember.
Then again, she didn't want to ever remember again.
And then there was suddenly beach, sand, water.
Sapphire McLeod slowed down to a crawl, watching the water. How long had she been running for?
Goddamnit, she couldn't remember.
Slowly, she fell to her knees and cried. For a reason she couldn't remember.
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Hollyquin†
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[[Hayley Kelly continued from The Guilty Ones]]
"Wait...up..." Hayley moaned weakly, dragging her bare feet through sand that was getting hotter by the second. This was so freaking out of character for her, dragging her ass up and after the person she'd slept with the night before- usually she was heading off in the opposite direction. But of course, these were extenuating and possibly life-threatening circumstances. Sure, Ema had a gun, and sure, Ema could probably take care of herself, and sure, Ema was probably going off to be alone so she could, just maybe, be alone. But Hayley wasn't taking chances anymore. Besides, I swear to god Ema has a fucking raygun, god knows if that thing can even do shit...
Of course, the real question here was how the fuck Ema was up and walking in the first place. Hayley's brain felt like something was eating it from the inside out, and she was having a hard time putting one foot in front of the other. Not that she was usually the cuddling type, but if she could drag Ema back to their makeshift bed type thing and sleep for a bit longer- well, that would be just dandy. But Ema was quite satisfied to walk way-too-fucking-fast in a direction that was decidedly not conducive to sleeping, and here Hayley was running after her in a t-shirt and underwear.
That bit's pretty in character, actually.
Ah, well. One hangover cure she actually had available to her- inhale. Exhale. Nicotine cures all ailments. Except, like, lung cancer.
She considered calling out, but decided against it- if Ema really wanted to be alone, she'd probably resent Hayley for following, and last thing she wanted right now was a confrontation. She could barely think, let alone argue in an intelligent/non-retarded fashion. If trouble came to find them (and it was so fucking good at doing that!) she could pop out of the damn woodwork and shoot at it. But for the moment...
For the moment, everything was okay, in that bizarre way where really nothing was.
"Wait...up..." Hayley moaned weakly, dragging her bare feet through sand that was getting hotter by the second. This was so freaking out of character for her, dragging her ass up and after the person she'd slept with the night before- usually she was heading off in the opposite direction. But of course, these were extenuating and possibly life-threatening circumstances. Sure, Ema had a gun, and sure, Ema could probably take care of herself, and sure, Ema was probably going off to be alone so she could, just maybe, be alone. But Hayley wasn't taking chances anymore. Besides, I swear to god Ema has a fucking raygun, god knows if that thing can even do shit...
Of course, the real question here was how the fuck Ema was up and walking in the first place. Hayley's brain felt like something was eating it from the inside out, and she was having a hard time putting one foot in front of the other. Not that she was usually the cuddling type, but if she could drag Ema back to their makeshift bed type thing and sleep for a bit longer- well, that would be just dandy. But Ema was quite satisfied to walk way-too-fucking-fast in a direction that was decidedly not conducive to sleeping, and here Hayley was running after her in a t-shirt and underwear.
That bit's pretty in character, actually.
Ah, well. One hangover cure she actually had available to her- inhale. Exhale. Nicotine cures all ailments. Except, like, lung cancer.
She considered calling out, but decided against it- if Ema really wanted to be alone, she'd probably resent Hayley for following, and last thing she wanted right now was a confrontation. She could barely think, let alone argue in an intelligent/non-retarded fashion. If trouble came to find them (and it was so fucking good at doing that!) she could pop out of the damn woodwork and shoot at it. But for the moment...
For the moment, everything was okay, in that bizarre way where really nothing was.
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And, just like that, Ema wasn't alone.
She'd perceived... something, something on the horizon, a few minutes ago. She wasn't sure what it was, and dismissed it without thinking much past It's probably a bird, or a trick of the light, or something. But that was a few minutes ago. The something had slipped out of Ema's line of sight fairly quickly, and she'd been content to carry on disregarding it.
For a few minutes, she walked, she hummed a little, she failed to notice Hayley trying to catch up. She took her gun out of her inside pocket and studied it with minor interest, looking over the odd curves of the so-called raygun, staring for a second or two at the interestingly placed safety.
And then that something came back into view. A lot closer than the horizon, this time. It wasn't a bird either. Or a mirage. Or anything else small, inconsequential or imaginary.
It, or rather, she, was a person. A person running.
A person running in Ema's direction.
She panicked.
Later on, Ema would realise other little things about what had happened that morning. That she'd probably flipped out over seeing the red stains on the other girl's clothes was one of them, the only one that helped her justify her response. The other ones were less helpful. That the girl seemed to have been running in fear, or distress, nothing close to hostility at any rate. That she slowed down just after Ema started panicking. That she already seemed to be going down before Ema acted.
But that was later on. In that split second after perceiving a possible danger, all Ema could think about was how fortunate she was to already have her gun in her hand. How lucky that it seemed the "aggressor" didn't have a ranged weapon of her own. How easy it would be to pull the trigger and be safe for certain.
Yes, easy. It would be so easy to just point the death dispensing tool at the person she wanted to be dead, and make it so. That sense of importance, of power, was back. The godlike power to press down on a little sliver of metal, and end a life. And, according to her own fears, save her own.
So as Sapphire McLeod was coming to a stop, Ema Ryan's arms were coming up.
As she began to fall of her own accord, a hand raised to steady the weapon.
Sapphire dropped to her knees.
Ema interpreted it as trying to dodge.
She never considered that she hadn't even been noticed yet.
She adjusted her aim downwards, focusing on the chest.
Easiest target to hit.
Right hand gripping the handle.
Left hand on the trigger guard.
Safety off.
Steady.
A minuscule pause. A half-second of doubt.
She pulled the trigger.
She'd perceived... something, something on the horizon, a few minutes ago. She wasn't sure what it was, and dismissed it without thinking much past It's probably a bird, or a trick of the light, or something. But that was a few minutes ago. The something had slipped out of Ema's line of sight fairly quickly, and she'd been content to carry on disregarding it.
For a few minutes, she walked, she hummed a little, she failed to notice Hayley trying to catch up. She took her gun out of her inside pocket and studied it with minor interest, looking over the odd curves of the so-called raygun, staring for a second or two at the interestingly placed safety.
And then that something came back into view. A lot closer than the horizon, this time. It wasn't a bird either. Or a mirage. Or anything else small, inconsequential or imaginary.
It, or rather, she, was a person. A person running.
A person running in Ema's direction.
She panicked.
Later on, Ema would realise other little things about what had happened that morning. That she'd probably flipped out over seeing the red stains on the other girl's clothes was one of them, the only one that helped her justify her response. The other ones were less helpful. That the girl seemed to have been running in fear, or distress, nothing close to hostility at any rate. That she slowed down just after Ema started panicking. That she already seemed to be going down before Ema acted.
But that was later on. In that split second after perceiving a possible danger, all Ema could think about was how fortunate she was to already have her gun in her hand. How lucky that it seemed the "aggressor" didn't have a ranged weapon of her own. How easy it would be to pull the trigger and be safe for certain.
Yes, easy. It would be so easy to just point the death dispensing tool at the person she wanted to be dead, and make it so. That sense of importance, of power, was back. The godlike power to press down on a little sliver of metal, and end a life. And, according to her own fears, save her own.
So as Sapphire McLeod was coming to a stop, Ema Ryan's arms were coming up.
As she began to fall of her own accord, a hand raised to steady the weapon.
Sapphire dropped to her knees.
Ema interpreted it as trying to dodge.
She never considered that she hadn't even been noticed yet.
She adjusted her aim downwards, focusing on the chest.
Easiest target to hit.
Right hand gripping the handle.
Left hand on the trigger guard.
Safety off.
Steady.
A minuscule pause. A half-second of doubt.
She pulled the trigger.
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A crack.
Chest shot. Back left, going through left lung, breaking a rib, exiting breast.
Sapphire was thrown forwards into the sand. Pain. A lot of it.
And of course, more red.
...why wasn't she shocked about this sudden attack on her?
The fact that she wasn't going to get off the island?
End the pain and all that stuff?
Didn't she care that she was going to die?
Not really. It was always going to end with death.
Wasn't it easier this way, not knowing the person who was taking her life?
Awkwardly, slowly, she slid off her blood red bracelet, watching it.
Four days of work. She thought it was her best creation yet.
She threw it to the side into the sand.
"Take it. Finish me. I forgive you."
Another crack.
The pain disappeared.
The world disappeared.
Girl 52: Sapphire McLeod - Deceased
Chest shot. Back left, going through left lung, breaking a rib, exiting breast.
Sapphire was thrown forwards into the sand. Pain. A lot of it.
And of course, more red.
...why wasn't she shocked about this sudden attack on her?
The fact that she wasn't going to get off the island?
End the pain and all that stuff?
Didn't she care that she was going to die?
Not really. It was always going to end with death.
Wasn't it easier this way, not knowing the person who was taking her life?
Awkwardly, slowly, she slid off her blood red bracelet, watching it.
Four days of work. She thought it was her best creation yet.
She threw it to the side into the sand.
"Take it. Finish me. I forgive you."
Another crack.
The pain disappeared.
The world disappeared.
Girl 52: Sapphire McLeod - Deceased
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A direct hit. Ema wasn't sure how to feel about that. Her mind gave her plenty of opportunity to form an opinion, seeing fit to show her the moment of impact in excruciating detail - her own fault for staring, she could easily have looked away - so she could make a well informed decision. She didn't know what she was supposed to be thinking, she'd just shot someone, and only just realised what that meant. How was she supposed to feel?
Sapphire dropped forwards onto her face, flat onto the sand, waves lapping at one arm stuck oddly outwards towards the sea. Such a strange sight. Ema had already seen plenty of people die, but never had a chance to truly take it in. The first time, she'd thrown up. After that, there had been running. Even with the boy they'd taken the gun from, she'd focused on anything but his body. But some morbid fascination had Ema's gaze fixed on Sapphire. On the slowly expanding red circle on her back, the way her body was so still, and yet not quite motionless.
She was still alive.
There was still a sliver of optimistic altruism left in Ema that hadn't yet been destroyed by cowardice and fear. Her first instinct was to run to the girl's side, see if she could be saved. It had been a blind panic, after all, she hadn't meant to kill her. Had she?
Ema was halfway through following that first instinct when common sense kicked in. Coming up to Sapphire's side, a sensible voice reminded her She's alive and I just shot her. She's going to be pissed. She backed up, out of grabbing range, hoping the wounded girl wasn't as well armed as she herself was. Fuck. What if she has a gun too? Ema didn't plan on finding out the answer to that. She took aim again, now for the head. Quick, efficient and certain. And if she's going to die because I freaked out, it might as well be as painless as possible.
The mercy kill side helped Ema get over what she was about to do. Thinking about it all later, she'd repeatedly cite that part as the reason it was okay. The reason she wasn't a psycho killer. It was a mistake that she did her level best to clean up. She didn't want to kill the girl. That's what she told herself.
Something hit the ground with a soft sound. Sapphire seemed to be saying something. She was moving. Ema panicked again, not quite so violently, but decisively. She stopped her wayward train of thought and focused. If that had been a pistol, I'd be dead.
She shook the doubts from her head.
Doubt could wait until later, when she was alive to consider them.
Ema took aim briefly, and fired.
The gun sounded, and she didn't look away. She couldn't tear her eyes off of the gruesome sight. Something in her mind told her she needed to see it, to be stronger. At that moment, it didn't help much at all. Ema dropped to her knees, knuckles white from gripping the handle of her gun. Perhaps to herself, all she could say was;
"I killed her?"
Sapphire dropped forwards onto her face, flat onto the sand, waves lapping at one arm stuck oddly outwards towards the sea. Such a strange sight. Ema had already seen plenty of people die, but never had a chance to truly take it in. The first time, she'd thrown up. After that, there had been running. Even with the boy they'd taken the gun from, she'd focused on anything but his body. But some morbid fascination had Ema's gaze fixed on Sapphire. On the slowly expanding red circle on her back, the way her body was so still, and yet not quite motionless.
She was still alive.
There was still a sliver of optimistic altruism left in Ema that hadn't yet been destroyed by cowardice and fear. Her first instinct was to run to the girl's side, see if she could be saved. It had been a blind panic, after all, she hadn't meant to kill her. Had she?
Ema was halfway through following that first instinct when common sense kicked in. Coming up to Sapphire's side, a sensible voice reminded her She's alive and I just shot her. She's going to be pissed. She backed up, out of grabbing range, hoping the wounded girl wasn't as well armed as she herself was. Fuck. What if she has a gun too? Ema didn't plan on finding out the answer to that. She took aim again, now for the head. Quick, efficient and certain. And if she's going to die because I freaked out, it might as well be as painless as possible.
The mercy kill side helped Ema get over what she was about to do. Thinking about it all later, she'd repeatedly cite that part as the reason it was okay. The reason she wasn't a psycho killer. It was a mistake that she did her level best to clean up. She didn't want to kill the girl. That's what she told herself.
Something hit the ground with a soft sound. Sapphire seemed to be saying something. She was moving. Ema panicked again, not quite so violently, but decisively. She stopped her wayward train of thought and focused. If that had been a pistol, I'd be dead.
She shook the doubts from her head.
Doubt could wait until later, when she was alive to consider them.
Ema took aim briefly, and fired.
The gun sounded, and she didn't look away. She couldn't tear her eyes off of the gruesome sight. Something in her mind told her she needed to see it, to be stronger. At that moment, it didn't help much at all. Ema dropped to her knees, knuckles white from gripping the handle of her gun. Perhaps to herself, all she could say was;
"I killed her?"
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Hollyquin†
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"Oh shit."
Should've seen it coming. Really should've seen it coming. Well, she did see it coming, sort of, but fuck if that had helped her at the end of the day.
She'd seen the figure approaching, yeah. But she was still a distance back from Ema, and said figure was further forward still, so she had no clue who it was, or if they were armed, or any of those important tidbits. Of course, that was why she was here, to prevent shadowy figures from wandering out of the fog/trees/other places shadowy figures wander from and popping a cap in her girlfriend's head. Ex-girlfriend. ...Best friend. Urgh, whatever, fucking semantics. Yeah, whatever, so here was this shadowy figure, and here was Hayley's gun arm, moving up, automatically, seeking its target, but she didn't shoot. Not yet. Cause her target was really frickin' far away and this was a pistol not a fucking sniper rifle and besides, the person- the girl, she realized, looking a bit closer, moving a bit closer- looked scared out of her damn wits. Looked like she might be running from something herself. Not that being scared meant anything at all, here, but it did make her want to look towards the tree line, look for a pursuer, see if someone more dangerous was close at hand.
(Okay, honest, it was mostly the distance thing that stopped her. Oh god, shooting innocent people, because that's so not anything I've done before-WOW. Okay. That's awful. Stop thinking things.)
So she wasn't looking at the shadowy figure when it happened. She was looking at the space where sand became trees, looking for some imaginary gunman that was doing a brilliant job of not appearing, when she heard the gunshot, which did a good job of distracting her from her search. For a moment- a split second, really, though it felt much longer, that distraction was pure panic, suddenly convincing her that shadowy-figure-girl was pulling some wounded gazelle gambit bullshit and Ema'd fallen for it and gotten her ass shot. But no, Ema wasn't stupid, and Ema had a gun-
Oh.
Right.
That made a lot more sense.
Okay. She'd figured it out before she actually turned back to Ema and shadowy-figure-girl, before she got her paralyzed feet to start moving towards them again, definitely before she saw the bloody spot on the other girl's back that proved that she'd been right. Ema seemed as turned to stone, at least for a moment, and Hayley tried to take advantage of that, to actually catch up. This might have worked if Hayley was still so incapable of walking like something other than a retarded toddler. Good deal I didn't try shooting at her. Probably would've shot Ema. Or myself. Or, like, a seagull. Ema was walking again before Hayley could get to her, but she was close enough to witness.
God, it was creepy how you could get used to gunshots. That shouldn't be possible, but it was becoming easier every fucking day. Blood too. Bone...brain? Eugh. Okay, that's still gross. Less gross if she didn't get any closer. She recognized the girl, in death, weirdly enough- from where she didn't know, from a class, or maybe she'd been a friend of Madelyn's or something, but her name was Sapphire. That only stuck to her now because she remembered thinking that's a stupid fucking name. What kind of parent names their kid Sapphire? Unless, like, you have a family tradition of strippers. Whatever. That was her name, and now she was dead, and that fact seemed to be affecting Ema way more than it was affecting her.
"I killed her?"
She was talking to herself. She was talking to herself and she obviously hadn't even noticed that Hayley was there and she would've been a horrible bitch for answering particularly given that her reflex reaction was to say something in the realm of "Er, yeah." Or maybe some crack about how the raygun did apparently shoot bullets. Somehow I think she's noticed.
Hayley barely remembered what it was like. Honestly, it'd been five days, five days of hell, five days of displaced heads and bullet wounds and screaming and loss and love, and her first kill on day two felt like an eternity ago. Which was good. She wanted to forget about that, that panicked, pathetic moment that'd turned her friends against her, if only for a moment. Every kill got easier...that was a horrifying thought, every kill got easier, but it did, it really, honestly did, and that first one still stuck with her the way that traumatic experiences often do. And that was what Ema was going through right now, and now she had to figure out what to say to make it easier.
No pressure, girly.
She took a few more tentative steps forward. Ema's words had a sobering effect, pushing the pain to the back of her mind. Time to prioritize. She could deal with the hangover later. And oh, would she deal with it later.
"Er...Ema..."
Her words trailed off into nothing, because her mind had suddenly failed her in the realm of "things to say". What was there to say, though? What would help?
What would've helped me...?
Should've seen it coming. Really should've seen it coming. Well, she did see it coming, sort of, but fuck if that had helped her at the end of the day.
She'd seen the figure approaching, yeah. But she was still a distance back from Ema, and said figure was further forward still, so she had no clue who it was, or if they were armed, or any of those important tidbits. Of course, that was why she was here, to prevent shadowy figures from wandering out of the fog/trees/other places shadowy figures wander from and popping a cap in her girlfriend's head. Ex-girlfriend. ...Best friend. Urgh, whatever, fucking semantics. Yeah, whatever, so here was this shadowy figure, and here was Hayley's gun arm, moving up, automatically, seeking its target, but she didn't shoot. Not yet. Cause her target was really frickin' far away and this was a pistol not a fucking sniper rifle and besides, the person- the girl, she realized, looking a bit closer, moving a bit closer- looked scared out of her damn wits. Looked like she might be running from something herself. Not that being scared meant anything at all, here, but it did make her want to look towards the tree line, look for a pursuer, see if someone more dangerous was close at hand.
(Okay, honest, it was mostly the distance thing that stopped her. Oh god, shooting innocent people, because that's so not anything I've done before-WOW. Okay. That's awful. Stop thinking things.)
So she wasn't looking at the shadowy figure when it happened. She was looking at the space where sand became trees, looking for some imaginary gunman that was doing a brilliant job of not appearing, when she heard the gunshot, which did a good job of distracting her from her search. For a moment- a split second, really, though it felt much longer, that distraction was pure panic, suddenly convincing her that shadowy-figure-girl was pulling some wounded gazelle gambit bullshit and Ema'd fallen for it and gotten her ass shot. But no, Ema wasn't stupid, and Ema had a gun-
Oh.
Right.
That made a lot more sense.
Okay. She'd figured it out before she actually turned back to Ema and shadowy-figure-girl, before she got her paralyzed feet to start moving towards them again, definitely before she saw the bloody spot on the other girl's back that proved that she'd been right. Ema seemed as turned to stone, at least for a moment, and Hayley tried to take advantage of that, to actually catch up. This might have worked if Hayley was still so incapable of walking like something other than a retarded toddler. Good deal I didn't try shooting at her. Probably would've shot Ema. Or myself. Or, like, a seagull. Ema was walking again before Hayley could get to her, but she was close enough to witness.
God, it was creepy how you could get used to gunshots. That shouldn't be possible, but it was becoming easier every fucking day. Blood too. Bone...brain? Eugh. Okay, that's still gross. Less gross if she didn't get any closer. She recognized the girl, in death, weirdly enough- from where she didn't know, from a class, or maybe she'd been a friend of Madelyn's or something, but her name was Sapphire. That only stuck to her now because she remembered thinking that's a stupid fucking name. What kind of parent names their kid Sapphire? Unless, like, you have a family tradition of strippers. Whatever. That was her name, and now she was dead, and that fact seemed to be affecting Ema way more than it was affecting her.
"I killed her?"
She was talking to herself. She was talking to herself and she obviously hadn't even noticed that Hayley was there and she would've been a horrible bitch for answering particularly given that her reflex reaction was to say something in the realm of "Er, yeah." Or maybe some crack about how the raygun did apparently shoot bullets. Somehow I think she's noticed.
Hayley barely remembered what it was like. Honestly, it'd been five days, five days of hell, five days of displaced heads and bullet wounds and screaming and loss and love, and her first kill on day two felt like an eternity ago. Which was good. She wanted to forget about that, that panicked, pathetic moment that'd turned her friends against her, if only for a moment. Every kill got easier...that was a horrifying thought, every kill got easier, but it did, it really, honestly did, and that first one still stuck with her the way that traumatic experiences often do. And that was what Ema was going through right now, and now she had to figure out what to say to make it easier.
No pressure, girly.
She took a few more tentative steps forward. Ema's words had a sobering effect, pushing the pain to the back of her mind. Time to prioritize. She could deal with the hangover later. And oh, would she deal with it later.
"Er...Ema..."
Her words trailed off into nothing, because her mind had suddenly failed her in the realm of "things to say". What was there to say, though? What would help?
What would've helped me...?
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For the next however long it was, Ema remained motionless. Her body still moved, of course, breath continued to enter her lungs, her hands continued to tremble, her right in particular continued to grip onto her gun for dear life. But by and large, she didn't move. She knelt there, not sure how much time was passing, not much caring, just staring at the hole in Sapphire's head. I did that. She just couldn't quite process the reality, the gravity, of what had happened. She'd killed a person, that much was obvious, but what defied understanding was the finer details. She'd killed an innocent person, it seemed. In cold blood, as well. Granted, the second shot could be called mercy, but there was still no excuse for shooting the first time. What does this mean?
Ema couldn't comprehend the consequences of what she'd done that morning just yet, and so eventually, she stopped trying to. The most obvious answers were probably the most important either way; she was a murderer now, and she still had no intention of dying on the island. Ema assured herself she'd get over the shock of it all in due time, and she'd be better off for it. No faltering. I can feel remorse for all this when I'm in therapy back home. Getting back comes first. She told herself that, and tried her hardest to believe it, but it still didn't quite stick. Killing innocent, fleeing people had never been part of the plan. She was supposed to just survive until there were a few monsters left, and not have to feel bad at all about killing them. Becoming one of them had never been on her agenda.
"Er...Ema..."
Shit. Hayley's awake. Obviously.
The idea that Hayley was following her hadn't really occurred to Ema yet, she'd assumed the other girl would just be doing... something, back at the makeshift camp. She didn't have the faintest idea what, just something nondescript and unrelated to how I just bloody shot someone.
Right, put on a brave face, can't look like, well, like this, in front of your partner in crime. Heh, crime. Nice phrasing.
She climbed to her feet, slowly, but without incident. That was a relief, Ema had been worried she'd stumble, or worse, fall over, or worse still, fall over and land on the body. She turned around, the most blatantly forced smile in the world on her face. God, what do you say to someone after this? "Oh man I shot Marvin in the face"? No. Fuck.
"Uh... yeah. I think she's dead."
No shit, Sherlock. This. Is. Stupid.
Ema couldn't comprehend the consequences of what she'd done that morning just yet, and so eventually, she stopped trying to. The most obvious answers were probably the most important either way; she was a murderer now, and she still had no intention of dying on the island. Ema assured herself she'd get over the shock of it all in due time, and she'd be better off for it. No faltering. I can feel remorse for all this when I'm in therapy back home. Getting back comes first. She told herself that, and tried her hardest to believe it, but it still didn't quite stick. Killing innocent, fleeing people had never been part of the plan. She was supposed to just survive until there were a few monsters left, and not have to feel bad at all about killing them. Becoming one of them had never been on her agenda.
"Er...Ema..."
Shit. Hayley's awake. Obviously.
The idea that Hayley was following her hadn't really occurred to Ema yet, she'd assumed the other girl would just be doing... something, back at the makeshift camp. She didn't have the faintest idea what, just something nondescript and unrelated to how I just bloody shot someone.
Right, put on a brave face, can't look like, well, like this, in front of your partner in crime. Heh, crime. Nice phrasing.
She climbed to her feet, slowly, but without incident. That was a relief, Ema had been worried she'd stumble, or worse, fall over, or worse still, fall over and land on the body. She turned around, the most blatantly forced smile in the world on her face. God, what do you say to someone after this? "Oh man I shot Marvin in the face"? No. Fuck.
"Uh... yeah. I think she's dead."
No shit, Sherlock. This. Is. Stupid.
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Chib. 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.
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Hollyquin†
- Posts: 332
- Joined: Sat Sep 01, 2018 5:24 am
What...what am I supposed to do...?
Hayley was not particularly sensitive. In fact, Hayley was kind of a bitch. There were a lot of probable reasons for that, like her having been friends with dudes for most of her life, and her best friend espousing a lifetime philosophy of "feelings are for losers" (like that ever worked out for him), and her having long ago sent as many emotions as she could into some repressed corner of her brain after that whole suicide-attempt thing, way back when. Point was Hayley was not good at consolation, particularly consolation for recently-committed murder. Not that that came up often, even here, given that I've been the one killing everything. Nice one.
What did I do? Back with what's-his-face, that metalhead kid...Steve, right, when I killed h- shit, Hayley, don't be too torn up thinking about it now. Right, when that shit happened, what did I do? I...I passed out. Like a boss. Right, but that was like, day two, who could blame me for losing my shit? It's been a week now, Ema's seen a lot of shit, she has to have, being with me this whole time...Back then, I mean, I hadn't seen much yet, just-
Urgh. She felt sick for a moment. Funny how of all the corpses she'd seen, the only one that really stuck was the first. Of course the first one was also easily the worst, a fucking slab of shredded meat eviscerated by who-fucking-knows not Steve, whatever I thought at the time. Whatever, mental image delete button, brain bleach, anyway, right, I passed out. I passed out and I woke up...and I made excuses. Went into denial. All the good stuff. I mean...I mean, I had to, it was day two, no one knew the score yet. I figured they'd HATE me. I'll be amazed if Alex ever forgives me, really, boy's too good for his own good...but Ema doesn't have to worry, she's got me and I'm not gonna bitch her out, that would be the highest form of hypocrisy, even for me. She...she'll be okay, yeah? I mean...I mean, I was okay. I got okay. I'm better. I'm...fine.
Define fine.
Shut up, you.
Yeah...yeah, Ema would be fine, totally fine, so why was she smiling like that, like there was something broken behind it? Hayley didn't like it, it was not okay, it made her want to hug Ema and tell her everything was alright and maybe cry a little. But Hayley wasn't that kind of girl, and really, neither was Ema, and it didn't seem like there'd be anything to do. This wasn't in the plan, not at all, Ema wasn't supposed to kill anyone cause she wasn't supposed to have to cause Hayley was supposed to be the moral sacrifice. Hayley was supposed to kill people. That was her job, practically, and she'd failed, again. Failed to protect Kyle's body, failed to protect Ema's soul, or whatever.
But she wasn't gonna think about it.
She wasn't gonna think about it.
This BSOD bullshit really had to end eventually. She was a pathetic fucking failure of a human, if she admitted that enough times would it stop bothering her? If she remembered that, would she feel better? She'd beaten herself over the whole Kyle thing, the whole letting her ex?boyfriend die due to her incompetence thing, and yeah, that was shitty. Yeah, she was stupid. Yeah it was gonna haunt her for the few days she had remaining in her way-too-short life but what the fuck was she supposed to do? She wasn't a goddamn necromancer and she didn't have a goddamn TARDIS and she couldn't fix this. Couldn't put Kyle together again. Couldn't fix Ema, either, Ema'd have to fix herself, just like she fixed herself, because she had fixed herself. Kyle had witnessed, but he couldn't do a damn thing but kiss her and okay, maybe that helped a little, but...
Something to keep in mind, though.
But you couldn't solve all your problems with kisses, not here, anyway, that was more of a Bayview-party method of problem solving and fuck if she wouldn't rather be at one of those but that wasn't a choice, was it?
She took a few steps forwards instead, flicking her long-dead cigarette away, transferring her dear Vera to her left hand, reaching out with her right, doing what she could.
"Come on, yeah? We shouldn't be here."
I need sensitivity training.
"I...fuck, Ema, I'm sorry, but...I know it feels like shit. It gets...better."
That's real reassuring, girly. Not psychopathic in the least.
SHUT UP.
Hayley was not particularly sensitive. In fact, Hayley was kind of a bitch. There were a lot of probable reasons for that, like her having been friends with dudes for most of her life, and her best friend espousing a lifetime philosophy of "feelings are for losers" (like that ever worked out for him), and her having long ago sent as many emotions as she could into some repressed corner of her brain after that whole suicide-attempt thing, way back when. Point was Hayley was not good at consolation, particularly consolation for recently-committed murder. Not that that came up often, even here, given that I've been the one killing everything. Nice one.
What did I do? Back with what's-his-face, that metalhead kid...Steve, right, when I killed h- shit, Hayley, don't be too torn up thinking about it now. Right, when that shit happened, what did I do? I...I passed out. Like a boss. Right, but that was like, day two, who could blame me for losing my shit? It's been a week now, Ema's seen a lot of shit, she has to have, being with me this whole time...Back then, I mean, I hadn't seen much yet, just-
Urgh. She felt sick for a moment. Funny how of all the corpses she'd seen, the only one that really stuck was the first. Of course the first one was also easily the worst, a fucking slab of shredded meat eviscerated by who-fucking-knows not Steve, whatever I thought at the time. Whatever, mental image delete button, brain bleach, anyway, right, I passed out. I passed out and I woke up...and I made excuses. Went into denial. All the good stuff. I mean...I mean, I had to, it was day two, no one knew the score yet. I figured they'd HATE me. I'll be amazed if Alex ever forgives me, really, boy's too good for his own good...but Ema doesn't have to worry, she's got me and I'm not gonna bitch her out, that would be the highest form of hypocrisy, even for me. She...she'll be okay, yeah? I mean...I mean, I was okay. I got okay. I'm better. I'm...fine.
Define fine.
Shut up, you.
Yeah...yeah, Ema would be fine, totally fine, so why was she smiling like that, like there was something broken behind it? Hayley didn't like it, it was not okay, it made her want to hug Ema and tell her everything was alright and maybe cry a little. But Hayley wasn't that kind of girl, and really, neither was Ema, and it didn't seem like there'd be anything to do. This wasn't in the plan, not at all, Ema wasn't supposed to kill anyone cause she wasn't supposed to have to cause Hayley was supposed to be the moral sacrifice. Hayley was supposed to kill people. That was her job, practically, and she'd failed, again. Failed to protect Kyle's body, failed to protect Ema's soul, or whatever.
But she wasn't gonna think about it.
She wasn't gonna think about it.
This BSOD bullshit really had to end eventually. She was a pathetic fucking failure of a human, if she admitted that enough times would it stop bothering her? If she remembered that, would she feel better? She'd beaten herself over the whole Kyle thing, the whole letting her ex?boyfriend die due to her incompetence thing, and yeah, that was shitty. Yeah, she was stupid. Yeah it was gonna haunt her for the few days she had remaining in her way-too-short life but what the fuck was she supposed to do? She wasn't a goddamn necromancer and she didn't have a goddamn TARDIS and she couldn't fix this. Couldn't put Kyle together again. Couldn't fix Ema, either, Ema'd have to fix herself, just like she fixed herself, because she had fixed herself. Kyle had witnessed, but he couldn't do a damn thing but kiss her and okay, maybe that helped a little, but...
Something to keep in mind, though.
But you couldn't solve all your problems with kisses, not here, anyway, that was more of a Bayview-party method of problem solving and fuck if she wouldn't rather be at one of those but that wasn't a choice, was it?
She took a few steps forwards instead, flicking her long-dead cigarette away, transferring her dear Vera to her left hand, reaching out with her right, doing what she could.
"Come on, yeah? We shouldn't be here."
I need sensitivity training.
"I...fuck, Ema, I'm sorry, but...I know it feels like shit. It gets...better."
That's real reassuring, girly. Not psychopathic in the least.
SHUT UP.
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Hollyquin. 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.
"Come on, yeah? We shouldn't be here."
Hayley offered a hand. Ema stared at it for a few seconds, the cogs turning in her brain so very slowly. She was standing up, so it wasn't a helping to her feet thing, what else was it meant to mean? Oh right. A holding hands kind of thing.
"I...fuck, Ema, I'm sorry, but...I know it feels like shit. It gets...better."
It was all too much to come to terms with in one morning, she'd just killed someone, pretty much in cold blood, and now she was remembering that Ema and Hayley was maybe a thing again. Scratch off the murder part and change the setting to Minnesota, it would still be a huge thing to Ema. On an island full of killers and having just become one? It was a wonder Ema could think straight at all, never mind taking a while over it. But apparently it gets better. Really?
Well, that was coming from Hayley, the one that already had five times as much to feel guilty about. If either of them knew anything about what Ema was going through, it was her. So she decided to trust in that, and just keep that brave façade on for the time being, pretend everything's fine until it actually becomes that way.
"I guess so."
For the first few seconds, Ema was pleased that didn't come out in her now rather common dry croaky noise. Then she realised it had instead been in a slightly creepy monotone. Bugger. Well, it could be worse.
"So what do we do now? I... I don't really want to be here."
That was true enough, even not looking at it, being near the late Sapphire made Ema uncomfortable, worse so than proximity to Hayley's victims had been. She'd been getting used to it by the boy she'd taken the gun off of and I don't even remember his name... James? No, that was the first one. Fuck., but this, it was almost as bad as watching James die the morning after linking up with Hayley and Kyle. Though, thinking about it that way, maybe it would get better in time, she hadn't had much trouble robbing the figurative grave of Andrew Mitchell, after all. Ema didn't relish the thought of killing anyone else, and certainly hoped never to see a bullet to the head up close ever again, but... if it means surviving, what choice is there?
No choice at all, really. Ema kept her mind on that, tried not to dwell on whether or not she deserved to survive, focused on just doing it. It was the only real choice she could see being left to her.
Hayley offered a hand. Ema stared at it for a few seconds, the cogs turning in her brain so very slowly. She was standing up, so it wasn't a helping to her feet thing, what else was it meant to mean? Oh right. A holding hands kind of thing.
"I...fuck, Ema, I'm sorry, but...I know it feels like shit. It gets...better."
It was all too much to come to terms with in one morning, she'd just killed someone, pretty much in cold blood, and now she was remembering that Ema and Hayley was maybe a thing again. Scratch off the murder part and change the setting to Minnesota, it would still be a huge thing to Ema. On an island full of killers and having just become one? It was a wonder Ema could think straight at all, never mind taking a while over it. But apparently it gets better. Really?
Well, that was coming from Hayley, the one that already had five times as much to feel guilty about. If either of them knew anything about what Ema was going through, it was her. So she decided to trust in that, and just keep that brave façade on for the time being, pretend everything's fine until it actually becomes that way.
"I guess so."
For the first few seconds, Ema was pleased that didn't come out in her now rather common dry croaky noise. Then she realised it had instead been in a slightly creepy monotone. Bugger. Well, it could be worse.
"So what do we do now? I... I don't really want to be here."
That was true enough, even not looking at it, being near the late Sapphire made Ema uncomfortable, worse so than proximity to Hayley's victims had been. She'd been getting used to it by the boy she'd taken the gun off of and I don't even remember his name... James? No, that was the first one. Fuck., but this, it was almost as bad as watching James die the morning after linking up with Hayley and Kyle. Though, thinking about it that way, maybe it would get better in time, she hadn't had much trouble robbing the figurative grave of Andrew Mitchell, after all. Ema didn't relish the thought of killing anyone else, and certainly hoped never to see a bullet to the head up close ever again, but... if it means surviving, what choice is there?
No choice at all, really. Ema kept her mind on that, tried not to dwell on whether or not she deserved to survive, focused on just doing it. It was the only real choice she could see being left to her.
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Chib. 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.
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Hollyquin†
- Posts: 332
- Joined: Sat Sep 01, 2018 5:24 am
"So what do we do now? I... I don't really want to be here."
Yeah, that was the funny thing about dead bodies, they made most places much less fun to be. Like, she could be in the coolest place in the fucking universe- Disney World, lets go with Disney World, it was so obvious but Hayley didn't give a shit, Disney World was awesome- and if you saw a dead body, well, you were gonna get the fuck outta there at top speed. Though it'd be extra creepy, seeing a dead body at Disney World. On Survival of the Fittest at least you kind of had to expect it, dead bodies everywhere and shit, but at Disney World you'd be like...did Mickey flip a shit on someone? And then your childhood would be ruined forever, and you'd have to go to therapy and shit, crying about how you saw Donald Duck with a bloody fucking-
Hayley. Hayley. Shut the fuck up.
Focus back on Ema, her voice monotone. Urgh. This was not okay, this was not something Hayley approved of, this needed to stop, immediately. There was something broken in Ema right now, something that may or may not have time to be fixed before they were both dead. How long had it taken her? Not long, but she was a horrible person, she was beginning to learn, the kind of person who could be okay after something like this, not that anything but trauma and need was holding her together right now. Maybe Ema wasn't that kind of person. Maybe Ema would be in shock for the rest of the game, and honestly, if it was anyone else, Hayley wasn't sure she'd have been able to handle that. She didn't want to spend the rest of her life with a PTSD case.
But there came that 'love' word again.
"We should go get our stuff. I...should probably get some clothes on."
Survival of the Fittest was having this weird effect on Hayley's ability to keep a pair of pants on. Not that she was really good at that in the best of times, but this was getting kind of ridiculous.
"And then we'll go...somewhere. Anywhere. Find Maddy and Alex and whoever else, yeah? Just..."
She trailed off, because suddenly she was lacking in things to say. There wasn't really a plan, how could there be a plan? She had no idea where anyone was or even if they were alive; what were they supposed to do? Hayley had really never hated not having a cell phone so much as she did here. It was so hard, waiting for the morning announcements to know whether the people she cared about were alive or dead, let alone where they were. They'd have to just go back to wandering aimlessly.
And stop...stop killing people. Stop picking off random faces in the crowd. I can handle it, somehow, but Ema...I want to protect her, not traumatize her. Unless...unless I have to, no more. Just cause I can, doesn't mean I have to, yeah?
What did I say about making promises you can't keep?
Hayley ignored that. Instead, she took Ema's hand, and led her away from this place. Back to their things, stopping only for Hayley to pull her damn skirt and shoes back on, to pack up their things, to leave this godforsaken beach behind. Too much had happened here, now and then, and honestly she'd be quite happy to never see another fucking ocean.
How many times do I have to say it? I fucking HATE the beach.
[[Hayley Kelly continued in Everyday is like Sunday]]
Yeah, that was the funny thing about dead bodies, they made most places much less fun to be. Like, she could be in the coolest place in the fucking universe- Disney World, lets go with Disney World, it was so obvious but Hayley didn't give a shit, Disney World was awesome- and if you saw a dead body, well, you were gonna get the fuck outta there at top speed. Though it'd be extra creepy, seeing a dead body at Disney World. On Survival of the Fittest at least you kind of had to expect it, dead bodies everywhere and shit, but at Disney World you'd be like...did Mickey flip a shit on someone? And then your childhood would be ruined forever, and you'd have to go to therapy and shit, crying about how you saw Donald Duck with a bloody fucking-
Hayley. Hayley. Shut the fuck up.
Focus back on Ema, her voice monotone. Urgh. This was not okay, this was not something Hayley approved of, this needed to stop, immediately. There was something broken in Ema right now, something that may or may not have time to be fixed before they were both dead. How long had it taken her? Not long, but she was a horrible person, she was beginning to learn, the kind of person who could be okay after something like this, not that anything but trauma and need was holding her together right now. Maybe Ema wasn't that kind of person. Maybe Ema would be in shock for the rest of the game, and honestly, if it was anyone else, Hayley wasn't sure she'd have been able to handle that. She didn't want to spend the rest of her life with a PTSD case.
But there came that 'love' word again.
"We should go get our stuff. I...should probably get some clothes on."
Survival of the Fittest was having this weird effect on Hayley's ability to keep a pair of pants on. Not that she was really good at that in the best of times, but this was getting kind of ridiculous.
"And then we'll go...somewhere. Anywhere. Find Maddy and Alex and whoever else, yeah? Just..."
She trailed off, because suddenly she was lacking in things to say. There wasn't really a plan, how could there be a plan? She had no idea where anyone was or even if they were alive; what were they supposed to do? Hayley had really never hated not having a cell phone so much as she did here. It was so hard, waiting for the morning announcements to know whether the people she cared about were alive or dead, let alone where they were. They'd have to just go back to wandering aimlessly.
And stop...stop killing people. Stop picking off random faces in the crowd. I can handle it, somehow, but Ema...I want to protect her, not traumatize her. Unless...unless I have to, no more. Just cause I can, doesn't mean I have to, yeah?
What did I say about making promises you can't keep?
Hayley ignored that. Instead, she took Ema's hand, and led her away from this place. Back to their things, stopping only for Hayley to pull her damn skirt and shoes back on, to pack up their things, to leave this godforsaken beach behind. Too much had happened here, now and then, and honestly she'd be quite happy to never see another fucking ocean.
How many times do I have to say it? I fucking HATE the beach.
[[Hayley Kelly continued in Everyday is like Sunday]]
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Hollyquin. 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.
"We should go get our stuff. I...should probably get some clothes on."
Yeah, being dressed and fully equipped, the first two steps towards a good day on Murder Island. After that came...
"And then we'll go...somewhere. Anywhere. Find Maddy and Alex and whoever else, yeah? Just..."
Staying on the move and finding your friends, steps three and four on the path to a lovely day out. Ema wasn't quite sure what was wrong with her just then, the supposed five stages of grief certainly didn't seem to be running their course. Of course, she hadn't suffered a personal loss, except that of her 7 day streak of not killing anyone. She'd started with confusion instead of denial, then moved into depression for a few seconds, then anger for a few fleeting milliseconds, only to be replaced by the perhaps more rational acceptance. For a few more seconds, she'd come to accept that she was now a killer. But after that came yet another stage, hard to label, too. She'd already started trivialising it, inwardly at least. Trying to make it out to be no big deal, as though it should be perfectly normal to shoot someone in the head on a Sunday morning.
Is it even Sunday? I've lost track of what day it was when we started already...
Regardless, they needed to keep moving. Ema tried to force the steady realisation that there was something deeply wrong with how she was responding to Sapphire's death from her mind, and followed Hayley's lead when taken by the hand, back to their impromptu not-really-a-camp, away from the source of her troubling new mindset. She gathered up the other two magazines that had come with her gun, put them in her pockets, figuring she might now need them sooner rather than later. Finally making the conscious decision to leave it be, she left her sword where it was in the duffle bag. She had a quick bite to eat, a mouthful of water to wash it down, whilst Hayley finished getting dressed.
And then they left. Ema wasn't sure how to feel about leaving the place behind. It had, after all, been the setting for just about everything truly important that had happened to her in the last week. She'd met up with the people that ensured she was still alive, she'd seen a dead body for the first time, she'd slept with Hayley, and finally, she'd made her first kill, all in the one small area. For all of this, she wasn't sure how to feel about it. The events that had transpired there essentially built up to the reasons she was still alive and physically well, as well as, well, sleeping with Hayley.
So, thinking about it as she headed back inland, Ema was slightly sad to leave the unassuming stretch of sand behind. But she needed to move on, in more ways than one.
[Ema Ryan --> Everyday Is Like Sunday]
Yeah, being dressed and fully equipped, the first two steps towards a good day on Murder Island. After that came...
"And then we'll go...somewhere. Anywhere. Find Maddy and Alex and whoever else, yeah? Just..."
Staying on the move and finding your friends, steps three and four on the path to a lovely day out. Ema wasn't quite sure what was wrong with her just then, the supposed five stages of grief certainly didn't seem to be running their course. Of course, she hadn't suffered a personal loss, except that of her 7 day streak of not killing anyone. She'd started with confusion instead of denial, then moved into depression for a few seconds, then anger for a few fleeting milliseconds, only to be replaced by the perhaps more rational acceptance. For a few more seconds, she'd come to accept that she was now a killer. But after that came yet another stage, hard to label, too. She'd already started trivialising it, inwardly at least. Trying to make it out to be no big deal, as though it should be perfectly normal to shoot someone in the head on a Sunday morning.
Is it even Sunday? I've lost track of what day it was when we started already...
Regardless, they needed to keep moving. Ema tried to force the steady realisation that there was something deeply wrong with how she was responding to Sapphire's death from her mind, and followed Hayley's lead when taken by the hand, back to their impromptu not-really-a-camp, away from the source of her troubling new mindset. She gathered up the other two magazines that had come with her gun, put them in her pockets, figuring she might now need them sooner rather than later. Finally making the conscious decision to leave it be, she left her sword where it was in the duffle bag. She had a quick bite to eat, a mouthful of water to wash it down, whilst Hayley finished getting dressed.
And then they left. Ema wasn't sure how to feel about leaving the place behind. It had, after all, been the setting for just about everything truly important that had happened to her in the last week. She'd met up with the people that ensured she was still alive, she'd seen a dead body for the first time, she'd slept with Hayley, and finally, she'd made her first kill, all in the one small area. For all of this, she wasn't sure how to feel about it. The events that had transpired there essentially built up to the reasons she was still alive and physically well, as well as, well, sleeping with Hayley.
So, thinking about it as she headed back inland, Ema was slightly sad to leave the unassuming stretch of sand behind. But she needed to move on, in more ways than one.
[Ema Ryan --> Everyday Is Like Sunday]
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Chib. 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.