[[Hayley Kelly continued from Instinct]]
They didn't go very far. After all, they were all tired, and it was already getting dark, and they'd had a long day of killing and murder and death and philosophical-ish conversations about killing and murder and...yeah. Yeah, it had been kind of a crap day, but here on Survival of the Fittest, any day where they weren't dead yet was kind of a victory. Fuck yeah, Hayley Kelly, keep on keepin' on. Accentuate the motherfuckin' positive.
They walked out of the field of tree stumps, and into a field of...well, trees. So less a field, then, and more of a forest, confirmed by a cursory glance at her map that showed them to be in the coastal woods. As good a place as any to bed down for the night, Hayley figured. Besides, she was tired. And hungry. Really hungry. With a vague "This'll do" to Kyle and Ema, she sat- or, a bit more correctly, collapsed- beside a particularly tall tree and dug a loaf of bread out her day pack, ripping off a piece and chewing, as slowly as she could manage.
She was quiet. Everything was quiet. Everything had already been said. This is too much.
She finished her bread. She lit a cigarette. She finished the cigarette. It was a process. It was automatic. Stress turns the best of us robotic.
Hayley fell asleep without another a word.
---
So like an alarm clock, the morning announcements had trained Hayley's brain to wake itself up a good ten minutes before they started. So Hayley was wide awake when she heard that irritating BZZZZZZZT- noise.
"...That's right, we passed the hundred death mark yesterday, so congratulations indeed on remaining alive. You've only got, well, a hundred and sixtyish people left to outlive now."
"Holy fuck," Hayley muttered, hardly noticing that she was actually speaking. That is a lot of people. That is in fact a fuckton of people. Jesus fucking Christ, this game is really happening. I mean, given that I've contributed 4 to that total, I shouldn't be so, like, shocked by that but still, damn...
Hayley stood. Stretched. All three of them had slept separately, not that she would have minded sleeping with either of the others heh, but her need to keep things as not-awkward as possible had kept her from doing so. Kyle was wide awake- knowing him he'd barely slept- and Ema was still lying down, so Hayley couldn't tell at first glance whether or not the announcement had woken her. Hayley looked up, in a vague attempt to look at the source of the voice, the speaker that was around here somewhere.
"Hayley Kelly waltzed out of nowhere and blew Jennifer Romita away before she could blink, for our hundredth death of the season..."
"Cool," she said mainly to herself, with a small smile. I shouldn't be happy about this but fuck if that isn't kind of awesome. Kill number 100. That's a fucking milestone.
"Hayley Kelly continued her trend of wandering the open areas before randomly blowing someone away when she caught up to Jason Clarke..."
"I'm so famous," she said, again to herself, yawning dramatically. The rest of the announcements were more or less uninteresting- no one important dead. Maxwell Lombardi continues to be a murderous English twat. Some other familiar names coming up- Reiko, Ilario, Raidon, all known killers at this point. She realized that other people would be putting her on their lists, and she felt a twinge of...something. Something like...pride?
Yeah, that's not okay. I really need to get my mind off this game.
She paused, and lit a cigarette, taking deep, nicotine breaths. It was so very difficult to get your mind off the game. It was so very difficult to ignore your own, rapidly approaching death. Memento mori was never so redundant as here. Every moment spend remembering that you will die. There were so few things that could take your mind off of something like that. So few-
...No. No, this totally isn't the time.
But when the fuck will it be the time? Ever again?
Hayley looked back and forth between her two companions. Kyle was awake, Ema might or might not be, but she won't begrudge me a little time alone with him, will she? Nah, I mean, she'll know, but she can't. Can't be mad at me. Can she? No, she can't be that...petty, not now. How much time do we have left for this? None at all. At least for the moment...we're safe, safe and alone, and I...can't let the moment go.
Stupid? Yes.
Foolish? Careless? Yes.
A complete failure of priorities? ...Yes.
...
"Kyle," she said, finally addressing someone besides herself. "You want to go for a walk...?"
Without Love, It Cannot Be Seen
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Hollyquin†
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Without Love, It Cannot Be Seen
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[Instinct --> Ema Ryan]
The short trip was uncomfortably reminiscient of Ema's second day on the island, a journey made from ex-forest to forest in the rapidly dimming light of evening, towards a largely uncertain destination. A journey which, the first time around at least, had been spent mostly freaking out due to urban-myth-based paranoia. This time, though, well armed and well allied as she had since become, Ema wasn't particularly worried. She was just nostalgic, for want of a better term, thinking about how much things had changed in less than a week.
For one thing, she wasn't alone. She wasn't afraid, either, not actively. The base level of wariness could never truly go away, not even if - unlikely as it was - she won the game and went home. No, she was pretty sure she was afflicted with paranoia for life, however short that may be. She was also armed, holding the faintly gleaming not-sure-what-kind-of-sword-it-is sword casually in her right hand, so used to its familiar weight that it now felt reassuring to have it around.
Most importantly, though, and most abhorrently to her own thoughts, Ema wasn't affected by what had just happened. Witnessing two other deaths at Hayley's hands beforehand, and hearing about the demises of both Eve and Janet just hours after leaving them behind, had put paid to her sense of remorse that had once gone alongside her close proximity to death, violence and everything that went with it. She even, in those occasional moments of pure pragmatism, ventured to think she was capable of killing people herself. They didn't last long, though, and her rational mind quickly reminded her of how badly she'd fare in a fight, whilst her emotional one claimed "You're just not that kind of person.", though Ema had started to reasonably doubt both.
She did have a sword, and backup. She'd seen enough of other people killing each other not to be effected by it. What was stopping her getting in the game herself?
"This'll do."
---
When she finally awoke, Ema didn't remember much of the previous evening, or the train of thought she'd embarked on before falling asleep. She didn't even remember falling asleep, come to think of it. But it was to be expected, the girl had always been a heavy sleeper.
Speaking of heavy sleep, it appeared she'd already missed the opening snarky remarks of Danya's morning announcement. She didn't bother getting up, or even sitting up, Ema just rolled over onto her back and paid attention. She recognised only more names than usual this time around. Isaiah Garvey, that awkwardly polite boy she'd met just before the prom, had apparently snuffed it. Snuffed it? Ema didn't even have it in her to chide herself for the calm way she dismissed the death of someone she'd known personally, though not closely. It was early and she didn't really care who died any more, as long as it wasn't her or Hayley. Or Maddy, or Kyle, she soon corrected. Maybe Alex too.
"I don't really care who dies?"
Danya then went on to tell the trio what they already knew about Hayley's exploits from the day before, met with grandiose I-don't-give-a-fuck-ery from Hayley herself. The next few names caught her attention; Michelle O'Cain and Ridley Landon, the other two she'd spent her first day at the Key with. She didn't know how to feel about Rid, he'd seemed nice enough, but the girl knew she was pleased to hear Michelle was gone, that one had been nothing but trouble for the few minutes they'd spent together.
"I'm... glad she's gone?"
The rest was uninteresting. Ema made a mental note of the new danger zones - the Town she still hadn't been to, and the Ranger Station, which she had barely even noticed was on the map in the first place - and that "Ms. Gweneth", presumably the Tabitha Gweneth that had killed Clio Gabriella, had won a new big deadly weapon. One big bad killer off the list, one new, well armed one added. Status quo is god.
"How am I so damn casual about all this?"
"Because you have to be. Man up and get in the game."
Silence filled the air, following the announcement. Ema was busy thinking, trying to figure her own mind out, something she was all too used to doing. She figured Hayley and Kyle were up to similar introspection, as movement and discussion was at an all time low. So Ema didn't bother getting up just yet. Against all odds, laying there on that towel and under that blanket and not with Hayley this time, sucks but oh well she was actually comfortable. Moving around didn't seem like a great idea.
"Kyle, You want to go for a walk...?"
"Let's go."
---
Ema didn't begrudge the couple - "Yup, still a couple. Yup, you're still the third wheel." - some time spent alone. She didn't like the idea of being left alone herself, but she wasn't about to protest. The threesome's group dynamic didn't need any m-- fuck did I just say threesome no no no that was a bad choice of word. They didn't need any more awkwardness, that was the point. Once they'd been gone a few minutes, the lone girl forced herself to get up. She rolled up her blanket and towel, dumped them both in her daypack.
Then she regretted having done so as soon as the smell of her own body reached her nostrils. She re-opened the bag, shoved the sleeping stuff aside, and rooted around for fresh clothes and deodorant. Figuring that she was alone, as far as actual people went, cameras be damned, Ema muttered an apology in case anyone she knew was watching, and started to undress.
"Not like I'd get anyone but the short-arse ginger fetishists anyways."
The girl stood there for a few seconds, looking down, staring at herself. It had always been pretty damn obvious how much she lacked any real figure, but for some reason it stuck out to her for a moment. Maybe because there was a good chance she was on camera that very moment. She regretted not wearing anything underneath her shirt, despite there being little-to-nothing that needed hiding. Luckily, the underwear she did have on wasn't nearly as mortifying as what Hayley might still be wearing. Ema was glad not to have ruffles on her ass.
When she was done changing, and both looking and smelling notably less like she'd been dragged through a fen backwards, Ema dumped the old clothes back in her bag - she told herself she might be able to wash them, but it was more an inability to throw stuff away - and retrieved some bread and water for breakfast. Enough of both left to last another three or so days, she estimated. She made short work of the breakfast portion, and had to resist the urge to overeat; got to ration this stuff.
The problem was how quickly it all went. Announcements, getting yourself up, eating, and the additional time taken to change clothes, it all went by very quickly. Alone in a forest, waiting for your companions to come back from don't-want-to-think-about-what-they're-doing-with-that-privacy, there wasn't much to do.
So Ema paced. And she thought.
Eva, Ridley and Michelle are dead, I probably would be too if I wasn't leeching off of Hayley. I still haven't gotten my hands dirty, and it'll only make it worse when I'm not used to it and only hardened killers are left. It's pretty bloody obvious I'm not as over Hayley as I thought I was. I don't want to think about where she went with Kyle because I don't want to decide they're probably screwing or something. I'm all alone with only a sword to defend myself - she paced back across to her daypack, took the falcata out from underneath it - if someone comes along.
This morning sucks ass.
(Also retroactive editing win?)
The short trip was uncomfortably reminiscient of Ema's second day on the island, a journey made from ex-forest to forest in the rapidly dimming light of evening, towards a largely uncertain destination. A journey which, the first time around at least, had been spent mostly freaking out due to urban-myth-based paranoia. This time, though, well armed and well allied as she had since become, Ema wasn't particularly worried. She was just nostalgic, for want of a better term, thinking about how much things had changed in less than a week.
For one thing, she wasn't alone. She wasn't afraid, either, not actively. The base level of wariness could never truly go away, not even if - unlikely as it was - she won the game and went home. No, she was pretty sure she was afflicted with paranoia for life, however short that may be. She was also armed, holding the faintly gleaming not-sure-what-kind-of-sword-it-is sword casually in her right hand, so used to its familiar weight that it now felt reassuring to have it around.
Most importantly, though, and most abhorrently to her own thoughts, Ema wasn't affected by what had just happened. Witnessing two other deaths at Hayley's hands beforehand, and hearing about the demises of both Eve and Janet just hours after leaving them behind, had put paid to her sense of remorse that had once gone alongside her close proximity to death, violence and everything that went with it. She even, in those occasional moments of pure pragmatism, ventured to think she was capable of killing people herself. They didn't last long, though, and her rational mind quickly reminded her of how badly she'd fare in a fight, whilst her emotional one claimed "You're just not that kind of person.", though Ema had started to reasonably doubt both.
She did have a sword, and backup. She'd seen enough of other people killing each other not to be effected by it. What was stopping her getting in the game herself?
"This'll do."
---
When she finally awoke, Ema didn't remember much of the previous evening, or the train of thought she'd embarked on before falling asleep. She didn't even remember falling asleep, come to think of it. But it was to be expected, the girl had always been a heavy sleeper.
Speaking of heavy sleep, it appeared she'd already missed the opening snarky remarks of Danya's morning announcement. She didn't bother getting up, or even sitting up, Ema just rolled over onto her back and paid attention. She recognised only more names than usual this time around. Isaiah Garvey, that awkwardly polite boy she'd met just before the prom, had apparently snuffed it. Snuffed it? Ema didn't even have it in her to chide herself for the calm way she dismissed the death of someone she'd known personally, though not closely. It was early and she didn't really care who died any more, as long as it wasn't her or Hayley. Or Maddy, or Kyle, she soon corrected. Maybe Alex too.
"I don't really care who dies?"
Danya then went on to tell the trio what they already knew about Hayley's exploits from the day before, met with grandiose I-don't-give-a-fuck-ery from Hayley herself. The next few names caught her attention; Michelle O'Cain and Ridley Landon, the other two she'd spent her first day at the Key with. She didn't know how to feel about Rid, he'd seemed nice enough, but the girl knew she was pleased to hear Michelle was gone, that one had been nothing but trouble for the few minutes they'd spent together.
"I'm... glad she's gone?"
The rest was uninteresting. Ema made a mental note of the new danger zones - the Town she still hadn't been to, and the Ranger Station, which she had barely even noticed was on the map in the first place - and that "Ms. Gweneth", presumably the Tabitha Gweneth that had killed Clio Gabriella, had won a new big deadly weapon. One big bad killer off the list, one new, well armed one added. Status quo is god.
"How am I so damn casual about all this?"
"Because you have to be. Man up and get in the game."
Silence filled the air, following the announcement. Ema was busy thinking, trying to figure her own mind out, something she was all too used to doing. She figured Hayley and Kyle were up to similar introspection, as movement and discussion was at an all time low. So Ema didn't bother getting up just yet. Against all odds, laying there on that towel and under that blanket and not with Hayley this time, sucks but oh well she was actually comfortable. Moving around didn't seem like a great idea.
"Kyle, You want to go for a walk...?"
"Let's go."
---
Ema didn't begrudge the couple - "Yup, still a couple. Yup, you're still the third wheel." - some time spent alone. She didn't like the idea of being left alone herself, but she wasn't about to protest. The threesome's group dynamic didn't need any m-- fuck did I just say threesome no no no that was a bad choice of word. They didn't need any more awkwardness, that was the point. Once they'd been gone a few minutes, the lone girl forced herself to get up. She rolled up her blanket and towel, dumped them both in her daypack.
Then she regretted having done so as soon as the smell of her own body reached her nostrils. She re-opened the bag, shoved the sleeping stuff aside, and rooted around for fresh clothes and deodorant. Figuring that she was alone, as far as actual people went, cameras be damned, Ema muttered an apology in case anyone she knew was watching, and started to undress.
"Not like I'd get anyone but the short-arse ginger fetishists anyways."
The girl stood there for a few seconds, looking down, staring at herself. It had always been pretty damn obvious how much she lacked any real figure, but for some reason it stuck out to her for a moment. Maybe because there was a good chance she was on camera that very moment. She regretted not wearing anything underneath her shirt, despite there being little-to-nothing that needed hiding. Luckily, the underwear she did have on wasn't nearly as mortifying as what Hayley might still be wearing. Ema was glad not to have ruffles on her ass.
When she was done changing, and both looking and smelling notably less like she'd been dragged through a fen backwards, Ema dumped the old clothes back in her bag - she told herself she might be able to wash them, but it was more an inability to throw stuff away - and retrieved some bread and water for breakfast. Enough of both left to last another three or so days, she estimated. She made short work of the breakfast portion, and had to resist the urge to overeat; got to ration this stuff.
The problem was how quickly it all went. Announcements, getting yourself up, eating, and the additional time taken to change clothes, it all went by very quickly. Alone in a forest, waiting for your companions to come back from don't-want-to-think-about-what-they're-doing-with-that-privacy, there wasn't much to do.
So Ema paced. And she thought.
Eva, Ridley and Michelle are dead, I probably would be too if I wasn't leeching off of Hayley. I still haven't gotten my hands dirty, and it'll only make it worse when I'm not used to it and only hardened killers are left. It's pretty bloody obvious I'm not as over Hayley as I thought I was. I don't want to think about where she went with Kyle because I don't want to decide they're probably screwing or something. I'm all alone with only a sword to defend myself - she paced back across to her daypack, took the falcata out from underneath it - if someone comes along.
This morning sucks ass.
(Also retroactive editing win?)
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armeggedonCounselor†
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((Kyle Portman continued from Instinct.))
They entered the forest before night fell. There was very little said between the trio before they fell asleep, Kyle sleeping fitfully again.
He woke up before the announcement. He sat up from where he had been lying and listened dispassionately. No names he knew, nothing important. He sighed and laid back down, ready to fall back to sleep.
"Kyle, you wanna go for a walk?"
Kyle sat up again, looking over at Hayley. He... had a suspicion as to what she had in mind. But here? Now?
.... Then again, he might not have the chance tomorrow. He could die today, or Hayley, or there just might never be another chance.
His mind was made up. He stood and approached Hayley, holding a hand out.
"Let's go."
They entered the forest before night fell. There was very little said between the trio before they fell asleep, Kyle sleeping fitfully again.
He woke up before the announcement. He sat up from where he had been lying and listened dispassionately. No names he knew, nothing important. He sighed and laid back down, ready to fall back to sleep.
"Kyle, you wanna go for a walk?"
Kyle sat up again, looking over at Hayley. He... had a suspicion as to what she had in mind. But here? Now?
.... Then again, he might not have the chance tomorrow. He could die today, or Hayley, or there just might never be another chance.
His mind was made up. He stood and approached Hayley, holding a hand out.
"Let's go."
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler armeggedonCounselor. 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†
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"Let's go."
He was holding out his hand. Well, that was easy. Not that she'd really expected him to need convincing...well, he might, considering he was the pragmatic type who might be like no, bad idea, we can't leave Ema alone, we can't leave our weapons behind, this is dangerous, but she somewhat doubted it. Kyle was, at the end of the day, a boy. A virgin, she was pretty sure. And this was one of the few constant truths of the world that Hayley could cling to: no boy wanted to die a virgin.
This is it, Hayley. Now or never. Fuck this boy or die a virgin. ...Wait, no, that's not how that works. Fuck this boy or die a person who hasn't had sex in like, several months. Yeah, those are the words I was looking for.
Of course, she'd already made up her mind.
She took that hand, and led the boy into the trees.
I might live to regret this.
...But probably not.
---
She dragged him along for...a while. Well, drag probably wasn't the right word, given that it indicated a certain level of unwillingness from the other party, and Kyle seemed more than willing to follow Hayley's lead. She didn't have a destination in mind- like there's anywhere to go in this forest, anyway. But she needed to maintain a delicate balance- close enough to Ema that they could get to her in time in case of an attack, and far enough away that she wouldn't...cough...overhear.
She overshot that distance on purpose, just a little, just in case. I mean, she has all the weapons. We wouldn't be much help as we are right- shit, she DOES have all the weapons! Fuck, fuck, totally forgot about Vera, fucking shit- not that she had much to do with a gun right now, of course, all things considered. They were totally banking on them being alone and safe in this forest right now- even if she did have her gun on her, if they were attacked she'd probably be dead before she could pick it back up. That thought was weirdly comforting. If I die, I'll die happy, dammit. At least I don't have to worry about Ema.
I don't want to worry about Ema right now. I don't want to worry about anything. Fuck it. This is my moment.
Kind of pathetic, how this of all things is your moment.
No one is asking for your opinion, psycho-brain-voice.
Hayley came to a sudden stop in a nondescript clearing, and pushed the boy (not too hard, she was going to be REALLY pissed at herself if she gave her boyfriend an accidental concussion at this particular juncture) against a tree, her palms pressed against his chest. For a long moment, she just looked at him. Blue eyes caught by golden ones. The moment dragged. She didn't blink, or swallow, or speak, and then, then Hayley buried her face into his chest, threw her arms around him. She felt his arms, strong arms, comforting, close around her as she pulled herself as close to him as it was possible to be.
What am I doing?
Something pricked at her eye. It felt suspiciously like a tear, and that was not okay. That was not okay at all.
Fuck...
She pressed her head against Kyle. Shaking. She was shaking.
Why was she shaking?
This is so pointless. This is such BULLSHIT. Didn't Johnny tell you, emotions only get in the way of life?
Here she was, on Survival of the Fittest. Seventeen years old. Her birthday would be in about a month- she would be, would've been, eighteen. Old enough to buy porn and cigarettes, old enough to be really an adult. She'd been accepted to her first choice college, given a decent amount of financial aid, gotten into the game design program she'd wanted. She'd had so many ideas, so many ideas, so much shit she'd never get to show the world, never get to show anyone since she'd never bothered to write it down, it was all beautifully designed and written and made in her brain which was destined to end up blown out in the next few days.
She had a best friend, his name was Johnny De Luca and he was the most important person in the universe because he was her, her twin, her soulmate, her everything. He was at home, probably watching her, probably watching this. He was probably not taking his own advice and was probably crying his eyes out because his twin, his soulmate, his everything was going to die. On TV. They'd both promised each other years before that neither would let themselves live long without the other. So that was another beautiful thing Danya was erasing from the world.
She had a family. She had parents, and a little brother who needed her and loved her very, very much. She had aunts and uncles and cousins- tons of them. She'd promised her cousin Lily she'd tell her all about her new boyfriend. And she was probably watching too.
She was in love. She didn't even know who with, anymore. One of these people she was with right now.
One of them. Both of them. One of them.
She cried, silently, into his chest. Heaving silent, heavy sobs, she cried not for her friends, or for her family, or for the boy or girl she may or may not love. She cried for herself, because she didn't know if anyone else was going to. Not now or ever. She cried for the life Danya was throwing away. Her life. There was so much left to it, dammit! There was so much she had left to do. She'd never even left the goddamn country. Never seen the world. She'd promised Johnny, they'd backpack across Europe like the badass motherfuckers they were, but no, too late for that now. Too late for anything.
Too late. Too late for love, especially. Too goddamn late.
and you know the funniest part? you know who else had a family? friends? a future?
you want to remember their names, hayley? go on. remember.
No.
She wiped the last tear from her eye before she looked back up at Kyle. She hoped he'd have mistaken her silence, her shaking for anything other than what it was. God, she was pathetic.
No. Fuck it. Fuck this. I can't think about it, and I'm NOT thinking about them. I refuse. Where the fuck will that leave me?
Fuck it. Fuck ALL of it. Fuck everything. Let me forget this for a little while. Let me pretend.
Fake happiness for long enough and it becomes real.
Just like something else I could mention.
Shut up.
Hayley shrugged her jacket off. In one smooth motion, she pulled her shirt up and over her head, dropped that to the floor as well. Her lips attached themselves to his.
Let me stop thinking. Just, for now.
He was holding out his hand. Well, that was easy. Not that she'd really expected him to need convincing...well, he might, considering he was the pragmatic type who might be like no, bad idea, we can't leave Ema alone, we can't leave our weapons behind, this is dangerous, but she somewhat doubted it. Kyle was, at the end of the day, a boy. A virgin, she was pretty sure. And this was one of the few constant truths of the world that Hayley could cling to: no boy wanted to die a virgin.
This is it, Hayley. Now or never. Fuck this boy or die a virgin. ...Wait, no, that's not how that works. Fuck this boy or die a person who hasn't had sex in like, several months. Yeah, those are the words I was looking for.
Of course, she'd already made up her mind.
She took that hand, and led the boy into the trees.
I might live to regret this.
...But probably not.
---
She dragged him along for...a while. Well, drag probably wasn't the right word, given that it indicated a certain level of unwillingness from the other party, and Kyle seemed more than willing to follow Hayley's lead. She didn't have a destination in mind- like there's anywhere to go in this forest, anyway. But she needed to maintain a delicate balance- close enough to Ema that they could get to her in time in case of an attack, and far enough away that she wouldn't...cough...overhear.
She overshot that distance on purpose, just a little, just in case. I mean, she has all the weapons. We wouldn't be much help as we are right- shit, she DOES have all the weapons! Fuck, fuck, totally forgot about Vera, fucking shit- not that she had much to do with a gun right now, of course, all things considered. They were totally banking on them being alone and safe in this forest right now- even if she did have her gun on her, if they were attacked she'd probably be dead before she could pick it back up. That thought was weirdly comforting. If I die, I'll die happy, dammit. At least I don't have to worry about Ema.
I don't want to worry about Ema right now. I don't want to worry about anything. Fuck it. This is my moment.
Kind of pathetic, how this of all things is your moment.
No one is asking for your opinion, psycho-brain-voice.
Hayley came to a sudden stop in a nondescript clearing, and pushed the boy (not too hard, she was going to be REALLY pissed at herself if she gave her boyfriend an accidental concussion at this particular juncture) against a tree, her palms pressed against his chest. For a long moment, she just looked at him. Blue eyes caught by golden ones. The moment dragged. She didn't blink, or swallow, or speak, and then, then Hayley buried her face into his chest, threw her arms around him. She felt his arms, strong arms, comforting, close around her as she pulled herself as close to him as it was possible to be.
What am I doing?
Something pricked at her eye. It felt suspiciously like a tear, and that was not okay. That was not okay at all.
Fuck...
She pressed her head against Kyle. Shaking. She was shaking.
Why was she shaking?
This is so pointless. This is such BULLSHIT. Didn't Johnny tell you, emotions only get in the way of life?
Here she was, on Survival of the Fittest. Seventeen years old. Her birthday would be in about a month- she would be, would've been, eighteen. Old enough to buy porn and cigarettes, old enough to be really an adult. She'd been accepted to her first choice college, given a decent amount of financial aid, gotten into the game design program she'd wanted. She'd had so many ideas, so many ideas, so much shit she'd never get to show the world, never get to show anyone since she'd never bothered to write it down, it was all beautifully designed and written and made in her brain which was destined to end up blown out in the next few days.
She had a best friend, his name was Johnny De Luca and he was the most important person in the universe because he was her, her twin, her soulmate, her everything. He was at home, probably watching her, probably watching this. He was probably not taking his own advice and was probably crying his eyes out because his twin, his soulmate, his everything was going to die. On TV. They'd both promised each other years before that neither would let themselves live long without the other. So that was another beautiful thing Danya was erasing from the world.
She had a family. She had parents, and a little brother who needed her and loved her very, very much. She had aunts and uncles and cousins- tons of them. She'd promised her cousin Lily she'd tell her all about her new boyfriend. And she was probably watching too.
She was in love. She didn't even know who with, anymore. One of these people she was with right now.
One of them. Both of them. One of them.
She cried, silently, into his chest. Heaving silent, heavy sobs, she cried not for her friends, or for her family, or for the boy or girl she may or may not love. She cried for herself, because she didn't know if anyone else was going to. Not now or ever. She cried for the life Danya was throwing away. Her life. There was so much left to it, dammit! There was so much she had left to do. She'd never even left the goddamn country. Never seen the world. She'd promised Johnny, they'd backpack across Europe like the badass motherfuckers they were, but no, too late for that now. Too late for anything.
Too late. Too late for love, especially. Too goddamn late.
and you know the funniest part? you know who else had a family? friends? a future?
you want to remember their names, hayley? go on. remember.
No.
She wiped the last tear from her eye before she looked back up at Kyle. She hoped he'd have mistaken her silence, her shaking for anything other than what it was. God, she was pathetic.
No. Fuck it. Fuck this. I can't think about it, and I'm NOT thinking about them. I refuse. Where the fuck will that leave me?
Fuck it. Fuck ALL of it. Fuck everything. Let me forget this for a little while. Let me pretend.
Fake happiness for long enough and it becomes real.
Just like something else I could mention.
Shut up.
Hayley shrugged her jacket off. In one smooth motion, she pulled her shirt up and over her head, dropped that to the floor as well. Her lips attached themselves to his.
Let me stop thinking. Just, for now.
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.
((Charlene Norris continued from Revenge is Best Served Cold))
Charlene felt like a whiny bitch.
It was true. When Charlie boarded the bus for the senior trip, her life had been pretty good. She was popular, she was guaranteed college, she was smart ... okay, strike the last part. But still, her biggest worry had been that people would find out about her sexuality, which had been unlocked during the wildest night she had ever had (first and only time she slept with another girl - bonus points for that having qualified as a good night even before the trip.), and think her a slut, and her worst decision up to that point had been putting a stupidly high amount of Jello shots in her bra at a party.
Fast forward six days, and she was at an all-time low. People were dying left and right, she'd been shot, saw a guy get decapitated, watched as another guy got his arm get chopped off, she was afraid that she had lost her best friend and was probably going to die alone, and she had found a fountain to rest at, only to be chased out of it soon after when it became a Danger Zone.
Funny how Charlie's impending doom made her actually think for once as she passed by that weirdly familiar tree ...
Wait, that tree ... Charlie leaned against it and sat down, remembering the last words she said to Thea while they were on somewhat friendly terms ...
"Thea ... I'm so sorry about James. I ... I was with Hayley at first. When she killed that first guy, Steve. I don't trust that girl any more than I can throw her. I owe Alex one, so for him I may not shoot her myself, but if she comes along, I may just ... 'space out' if you try to get her." Charlie looked to her left, where Thea had ...
Fuck, fuck, FUCK! Charlene quickly got up as she looked around. No wonder that tree looked so familiar. She had, somehow, in her travels throughout the day, traveled in a circle, and now she was right back where she had been the previous day. So now she was alone and LOST.
The tears started to come to her eyes, not out of sorrow, or fear, but anger. She wanted to punch something as she stalked off, cursing how she could have been so stupid as to lose herself and not find even one person. There were another, what, one hundred sixty on the island, if Danya was telling the truth. So where were they? ...
After about ten minutes of walking around, Charlie finally looked where she was going. About twenty feet away from her were two people, apparently in the middle of making out. Had she been calmer, she would have just walked away, but she was tired, lonely, and pissed off. Common sense had left for the moment, and maybe she could get some information out. Or maybe she could join them in their romp. Yeah. She could go for a good time right now, as the fleeting thought of sex in the middle of the woods went through her head.
Just like when you fucked Rosa, huh? (Shut up.)
She walked towards the two, calling out to them.
"Hey ..." And that's when she noticed who the female member of the pair was.
Fuck my life.
Charlene felt like a whiny bitch.
It was true. When Charlie boarded the bus for the senior trip, her life had been pretty good. She was popular, she was guaranteed college, she was smart ... okay, strike the last part. But still, her biggest worry had been that people would find out about her sexuality, which had been unlocked during the wildest night she had ever had (first and only time she slept with another girl - bonus points for that having qualified as a good night even before the trip.), and think her a slut, and her worst decision up to that point had been putting a stupidly high amount of Jello shots in her bra at a party.
Fast forward six days, and she was at an all-time low. People were dying left and right, she'd been shot, saw a guy get decapitated, watched as another guy got his arm get chopped off, she was afraid that she had lost her best friend and was probably going to die alone, and she had found a fountain to rest at, only to be chased out of it soon after when it became a Danger Zone.
Funny how Charlie's impending doom made her actually think for once as she passed by that weirdly familiar tree ...
Wait, that tree ... Charlie leaned against it and sat down, remembering the last words she said to Thea while they were on somewhat friendly terms ...
"Thea ... I'm so sorry about James. I ... I was with Hayley at first. When she killed that first guy, Steve. I don't trust that girl any more than I can throw her. I owe Alex one, so for him I may not shoot her myself, but if she comes along, I may just ... 'space out' if you try to get her." Charlie looked to her left, where Thea had ...
Fuck, fuck, FUCK! Charlene quickly got up as she looked around. No wonder that tree looked so familiar. She had, somehow, in her travels throughout the day, traveled in a circle, and now she was right back where she had been the previous day. So now she was alone and LOST.
The tears started to come to her eyes, not out of sorrow, or fear, but anger. She wanted to punch something as she stalked off, cursing how she could have been so stupid as to lose herself and not find even one person. There were another, what, one hundred sixty on the island, if Danya was telling the truth. So where were they? ...
After about ten minutes of walking around, Charlie finally looked where she was going. About twenty feet away from her were two people, apparently in the middle of making out. Had she been calmer, she would have just walked away, but she was tired, lonely, and pissed off. Common sense had left for the moment, and maybe she could get some information out. Or maybe she could join them in their romp. Yeah. She could go for a good time right now, as the fleeting thought of sex in the middle of the woods went through her head.
Just like when you fucked Rosa, huh? (Shut up.)
She walked towards the two, calling out to them.
"Hey ..." And that's when she noticed who the female member of the pair was.
Fuck my life.
Survivor: UCONN - Seriously, it's awesome!
Version 8
Kaede Tsurumi: "Eeep! I-I'm so sorry! I-I'll try not to get in your w-way next time!"
Morgan Whitney
Tyler Slomkowski
Victor Grail: "I didn't give you the lead so that you could lose it! I guess it's up to me to carry us after all."
Version 8
Kaede Tsurumi: "Eeep! I-I'm so sorry! I-I'll try not to get in your w-way next time!"
Morgan Whitney
Tyler Slomkowski
Victor Grail: "I didn't give you the lead so that you could lose it! I guess it's up to me to carry us after all."
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armeggedonCounselor†
- Posts: 190
- Joined: Sat Sep 01, 2018 5:24 am
((Breaking post order to hurry along Kyle's demise.))
Kyle allowed Hayley to take the lead. As they walked onward, he felt a twinge of trepidation mix with his excitement. This was a rather big step, if they went as far as he assumed they were going to. He knew Hayley's character and could only expect they would go to... that step. But did he really want that?
.... Yes. Maybe it was the fear of perishing as a virgin, or maybe it was because, as he believed, he truly loved Hayley, and he wanted to give himself to her. But he really did want to take that step.
Suddenly Hayley stopped. Kyle nearly walked into her before she turned and, with a firm push, pinned him against a tree. Her eyes met his as they lingered there for a moment. Then a moment longer. Her gaze wavered and she threw her arms around him, pressing her head to his chest. He hesitated for just a moment- this, after all, was not what he expected- but he wrapped his arms around her gently. They stood there for another moment before Kyle realized that Hayley was crying.
'Crying? Somehow I figured that would happen after we had sex.... And I figured it would be me....'
Though this was not a normal situation, and Kyle was nearly mad with a mix of tiredness and fear, he still brought his hand up to the back of Hayley's head. He gently stroked her hair, shushing her quietly and gently. She was shaking with silent sobs. He couldn't think of anything to say; what could be said? It'll be okay? Not only was that a lie, it was a really obvious one. At least one of them was destined to die within the next few days, maybe even today. It would be more hopeful to say that they might both die in the next few days, and therefor be together again in the hereafter. Or it would be if either of them really believed in a hereafter. Not to mention that, according to what Kyle knew of the bible, Hayley would definitely be going to hell, while he might not. He wasn't pure and good forever, obviously, but he was definitely a lot purer than Hayley.
Her sobs quieted, and she turned away, wiping her tears away as discreetly as she could before looking back at him. Then, in a smooth motion, her shirt came off and her lips met his. He closed his eyes and pressed into the kiss, sliding his hand down her back to the top of her jeans. He broke the kiss and slid down slightly, pressing his lips to her neck just below the ear. No mention was made of her tears, on either part. Time enough to talk about that later, right?
Right.
And then, for the second time on this stupid island, there was an interruption. This one was far less welcome than Ema, and Kyle nearly yelled, screamed at the intruding bitch to get the hell out of here, there was a moment happening and she was ruining it! His love life was in peril!
And then he realized who it was. One of the others who had been with Hayley when they had found each other. One of the people they had been... pseudo searching for. In between the committing of murder, of course.
Kyle decided this was an occasion for Hayley to do the talking.
Kyle allowed Hayley to take the lead. As they walked onward, he felt a twinge of trepidation mix with his excitement. This was a rather big step, if they went as far as he assumed they were going to. He knew Hayley's character and could only expect they would go to... that step. But did he really want that?
.... Yes. Maybe it was the fear of perishing as a virgin, or maybe it was because, as he believed, he truly loved Hayley, and he wanted to give himself to her. But he really did want to take that step.
Suddenly Hayley stopped. Kyle nearly walked into her before she turned and, with a firm push, pinned him against a tree. Her eyes met his as they lingered there for a moment. Then a moment longer. Her gaze wavered and she threw her arms around him, pressing her head to his chest. He hesitated for just a moment- this, after all, was not what he expected- but he wrapped his arms around her gently. They stood there for another moment before Kyle realized that Hayley was crying.
'Crying? Somehow I figured that would happen after we had sex.... And I figured it would be me....'
Though this was not a normal situation, and Kyle was nearly mad with a mix of tiredness and fear, he still brought his hand up to the back of Hayley's head. He gently stroked her hair, shushing her quietly and gently. She was shaking with silent sobs. He couldn't think of anything to say; what could be said? It'll be okay? Not only was that a lie, it was a really obvious one. At least one of them was destined to die within the next few days, maybe even today. It would be more hopeful to say that they might both die in the next few days, and therefor be together again in the hereafter. Or it would be if either of them really believed in a hereafter. Not to mention that, according to what Kyle knew of the bible, Hayley would definitely be going to hell, while he might not. He wasn't pure and good forever, obviously, but he was definitely a lot purer than Hayley.
Her sobs quieted, and she turned away, wiping her tears away as discreetly as she could before looking back at him. Then, in a smooth motion, her shirt came off and her lips met his. He closed his eyes and pressed into the kiss, sliding his hand down her back to the top of her jeans. He broke the kiss and slid down slightly, pressing his lips to her neck just below the ear. No mention was made of her tears, on either part. Time enough to talk about that later, right?
Right.
And then, for the second time on this stupid island, there was an interruption. This one was far less welcome than Ema, and Kyle nearly yelled, screamed at the intruding bitch to get the hell out of here, there was a moment happening and she was ruining it! His love life was in peril!
And then he realized who it was. One of the others who had been with Hayley when they had found each other. One of the people they had been... pseudo searching for. In between the committing of murder, of course.
Kyle decided this was an occasion for Hayley to do the talking.
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler armeggedonCounselor. 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 it didn't look like Kyle was gonna make a big deal out of it, or maybe he hadn't even noticed. Boys are the most oblivious creatures on the goddamn planet. Thankfully. That was good, because the last thing Hayley wanted to do right now was discuss the really exceptionally shitty thoughts that were attempting brain-blitzkrieg at the moment. She might explode if she didn't talk at some point, but really, she didn't feel like burdening her friends with all the stupid shit she was thinking about, and besides, they were probably thinking the same things, yeah? She was just the cold bitch who managed to really not think about it until fucking day 6. There'll be plenty of time ...time, anyway. Time to talk later. This is not the goddamn time. This was a time for other things, things involving nudity and scaring the wildlife and probably attracting the attention of any nearby cameras- that being something else Hayley didn't want to think about. She would not have given two fucks under other circumstances, but right now voyeuristic was the last thing on her trait list.
Goddammit. Her boyfriend's hand was sliding down her back and she was caught up thinking about corpses and blood and death and shit and that was kind of killing her mood given that she really was not into that okay maybe blood but this is kind of the wrong context, yeah? One of her hands wandered up into his hair, because that was the thing to do, and she found herself wondering how she could've ever thought this was a good idea.
Fuck. Fucking hell.
His mouth wandered away from hers, down to her neck, and she hated that mainly because that meant the camera could see whatever expression was on her face right now. She wasn't sure how she looked right now, but it probably wasn't pretty. Her eyes pricked threateningly yet again and she mentally threatened her eyes back before realizing that the only thing she could threaten her eyes with was destruction and that would be kind of counter-productive, all things considered-
Yeah, Hayley Kelly wasn't in a good place right now. Understatements are awesome.
One of her hands remained where it was, in his hair, while the other searched for something to do and found the button of his jeans. This was convenient, as if there was one skill she'd never really mastered it was undoing buttons one-handed, and she was grateful for the distraction. For a little while- maybe two minutes, maybe thirty seconds, time was kind of dragging- she managed to keep her mind off of much that wasn't getting this fucking button out related. Of course, the moment she realized she'd just about gotten it, all those irritating little irrelevant thoughts came flying back in. Those irritating little irrelevant thoughts about how completely stupid and pointless this all was.
No. Brain. Shut up. How are you supposed to get over this shit if you don't let yourself distract yourself? You can't tell yourself this is to stop thinking and then KEEP THINKING.
Fuck it. Fuck it all, I've got this.
Dammit, girly, show 'em what you can do.
The hand still in his hair gripped a bit tighter. The other hand was finally about to get that godforsaken button undone-
"Hey ..."
NO. FUCK NO.
It was probably bad that Hayley's most immediate thought was WHERE THE FUCK IS MY GUN. But then, there was that Survival of the Fittest thing again.
This was actually the worst thing ever. Fuck all the deaths, fuck the fact that they were going to die, fuck everything she'd been freaking out over for the last five minutes, the immediacy of THIS was so much worse. Goddammit, I know my karmic account's depleted as shit right now but like, no. Fuck this. No one deserves this shit right now. Maxwell fucking Lombardi does not deserve this shit. Fuck this girl, fuck whoever this is, she is so lucky I'm unarmed right now fucking hell what have I done to deserve this do not answer that CAN I NOT GET SIX SECONDS OF MY LIFE WHERE STUPID SHIT DOES NOT HAPPEN TO ME. PLEASE.
This is seriously the shittiest week ever.
Hayley turned around, because...because she was going to have to, at some point, and as she did so she realized two things. Number one, the girl in front of her was Charlene. That dumb bitch girl from before, yeah? From day, whatsit, day 2? Somewhere around there? Time wasn't her strong suit. At any rate, she'd recognize those tits eyes anywhere. Hayley didn't like her, and she was pretty sure she wasn't particularly fond of Hayley either, and that was totally okay with her, as long as they didn't have to talk. Of course right now they apparently totally had to talk even though the polite thing to do would be, you know, walk away, but this skank was standing there all dumbstruck-like. God how badly Hayley wanted to stab her in the face right now. Did Kyle have his knife on him? She almost wanted to ask but that was probably considered rude, not that she really gave a fuck.
Number two, she became increasingly aware of her shirtlessness. Not that there was much she could do about that right now. Fuck putting clothes back on the for Charlene Norris's non-virgin eyes.
She opened her mouth to speak. There were so many caustic things she could say right now but they felt like wastes of time. Why bother? She settled for-
"Hey."
And she made a shooing motion.
"You mind, especially?"
Goddammit. Her boyfriend's hand was sliding down her back and she was caught up thinking about corpses and blood and death and shit and that was kind of killing her mood given that she really was not into that okay maybe blood but this is kind of the wrong context, yeah? One of her hands wandered up into his hair, because that was the thing to do, and she found herself wondering how she could've ever thought this was a good idea.
Fuck. Fucking hell.
His mouth wandered away from hers, down to her neck, and she hated that mainly because that meant the camera could see whatever expression was on her face right now. She wasn't sure how she looked right now, but it probably wasn't pretty. Her eyes pricked threateningly yet again and she mentally threatened her eyes back before realizing that the only thing she could threaten her eyes with was destruction and that would be kind of counter-productive, all things considered-
Yeah, Hayley Kelly wasn't in a good place right now. Understatements are awesome.
One of her hands remained where it was, in his hair, while the other searched for something to do and found the button of his jeans. This was convenient, as if there was one skill she'd never really mastered it was undoing buttons one-handed, and she was grateful for the distraction. For a little while- maybe two minutes, maybe thirty seconds, time was kind of dragging- she managed to keep her mind off of much that wasn't getting this fucking button out related. Of course, the moment she realized she'd just about gotten it, all those irritating little irrelevant thoughts came flying back in. Those irritating little irrelevant thoughts about how completely stupid and pointless this all was.
No. Brain. Shut up. How are you supposed to get over this shit if you don't let yourself distract yourself? You can't tell yourself this is to stop thinking and then KEEP THINKING.
Fuck it. Fuck it all, I've got this.
Dammit, girly, show 'em what you can do.
The hand still in his hair gripped a bit tighter. The other hand was finally about to get that godforsaken button undone-
"Hey ..."
NO. FUCK NO.
It was probably bad that Hayley's most immediate thought was WHERE THE FUCK IS MY GUN. But then, there was that Survival of the Fittest thing again.
This was actually the worst thing ever. Fuck all the deaths, fuck the fact that they were going to die, fuck everything she'd been freaking out over for the last five minutes, the immediacy of THIS was so much worse. Goddammit, I know my karmic account's depleted as shit right now but like, no. Fuck this. No one deserves this shit right now. Maxwell fucking Lombardi does not deserve this shit. Fuck this girl, fuck whoever this is, she is so lucky I'm unarmed right now fucking hell what have I done to deserve this do not answer that CAN I NOT GET SIX SECONDS OF MY LIFE WHERE STUPID SHIT DOES NOT HAPPEN TO ME. PLEASE.
This is seriously the shittiest week ever.
Hayley turned around, because...because she was going to have to, at some point, and as she did so she realized two things. Number one, the girl in front of her was Charlene. That dumb bitch girl from before, yeah? From day, whatsit, day 2? Somewhere around there? Time wasn't her strong suit. At any rate, she'd recognize those tits eyes anywhere. Hayley didn't like her, and she was pretty sure she wasn't particularly fond of Hayley either, and that was totally okay with her, as long as they didn't have to talk. Of course right now they apparently totally had to talk even though the polite thing to do would be, you know, walk away, but this skank was standing there all dumbstruck-like. God how badly Hayley wanted to stab her in the face right now. Did Kyle have his knife on him? She almost wanted to ask but that was probably considered rude, not that she really gave a fuck.
Number two, she became increasingly aware of her shirtlessness. Not that there was much she could do about that right now. Fuck putting clothes back on the for Charlene Norris's non-virgin eyes.
She opened her mouth to speak. There were so many caustic things she could say right now but they felt like wastes of time. Why bother? She settled for-
"Hey."
And she made a shooing motion.
"You mind, especially?"
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.
Pacing around got old pretty quickly. Under normal circumstances, Ema could've put together the framework for a story she'd never actually write in the time she'd been alone. She could've sat down, wandered around, lay down and closed her eyes, whatever, and half-daydreamed, half-imagined up a plot. She would've thought the sword in her hand would have actually helped, back before it came to be there. If anything, it was one of the bigger factors sapping her creativity. The biggest, of course, was sheer waryness. Ema didn't have time to zone out when she was the only one protecting Hayley's, Kyle's and her own stuff, including two extra bladed weapons and a gun. Or at least, she was moderately sure they'd been left behind, unless the other two slept with their respective weapons.
"Well holy shit Emms, you managed to go off on a tangent that went somewhere useful!"
Emms? Nobody had called her that in years. She didn't dwell on why it had come to mind just then. Instead, she did the sensible thing that had come to mind, and redirected her pacing towards where Hayley had left her daypack. The girl took a cautious look around to make sure she was certainly alone before cutting off her field of vision, and proceeded to unzip the bag. "She won't mind, right? It's just a gun, just making sure nobody else gets their hands on it, and it's more use to me than a sword..."
She set her falcata aside, leaning against a tree and, out of... respect? Ema didn't really know, but whatever it was, she half-averted her eyes whilst digging through Hayley's things, trying not to identify anything that wasn't gun-shaped. As luck - or logic - would have it, the weapon was very near the top, and didn't take long to find. Ema took it, closed the bag, and stood up straight again.
It was an odd feeling. The gun felt lighter than she'd expected, and conferred an odd sense of... not power, not really. More importance, for as much sense as that made to Ema herself. The sense that having it in her hands had instantly - however temporarily - elevated her to a much more influential position in the island's hierachy. The position of someone who could point a barrel at someone else, and get what they wanted. No matter what the description was, it certainly felt good. The inherent danger that came with it didn't really occur to Ema just yet.
And, as she went back to her pacing, which had by then become more like a patrol, taking the safety off hadn't occurred to her yet either.
"Well holy shit Emms, you managed to go off on a tangent that went somewhere useful!"
Emms? Nobody had called her that in years. She didn't dwell on why it had come to mind just then. Instead, she did the sensible thing that had come to mind, and redirected her pacing towards where Hayley had left her daypack. The girl took a cautious look around to make sure she was certainly alone before cutting off her field of vision, and proceeded to unzip the bag. "She won't mind, right? It's just a gun, just making sure nobody else gets their hands on it, and it's more use to me than a sword..."
She set her falcata aside, leaning against a tree and, out of... respect? Ema didn't really know, but whatever it was, she half-averted her eyes whilst digging through Hayley's things, trying not to identify anything that wasn't gun-shaped. As luck - or logic - would have it, the weapon was very near the top, and didn't take long to find. Ema took it, closed the bag, and stood up straight again.
It was an odd feeling. The gun felt lighter than she'd expected, and conferred an odd sense of... not power, not really. More importance, for as much sense as that made to Ema herself. The sense that having it in her hands had instantly - however temporarily - elevated her to a much more influential position in the island's hierachy. The position of someone who could point a barrel at someone else, and get what they wanted. No matter what the description was, it certainly felt good. The inherent danger that came with it didn't really occur to Ema just yet.
And, as she went back to her pacing, which had by then become more like a patrol, taking the safety off hadn't occurred to her yet either.
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.
"Hey. You mind, especially?"
Given Charlie's memories of Hayley, and the relationship she had to three of her kills (direct witness to Steve, James' best friend's girlfriend, somewhat-ally of Jason), Charlie had been, for a second, scared out of her mind over what Hayley was going to do. Then, all Hayley did was wave Charlie away, which confused Charlie, who was now wondering what the hell she was to do.
Run. Now. (No. Shoot them. Don't be number five!) Number five? What's that? Just get out of there, Chuck! (She's killed four people! She'll blow your head off first chance she gets!) My name isn't Chuck! Stop calling me that! Okay, stop, all of me! I'm just going to back away, slowly, facing them, holding onto the gun. (Sounds pretty good.) Sure, whatever.
"Yeah. Sure." Charlie just slowly stepped back, her right hand creeping into her issued bag, taking hold of the pistol inside, just in case Hayley decided to kill her with some hidden weapon inside her, well, Hayley probably had some sort of weapon hidden away. Charlie wouldn't put it past her.
Given Charlie's memories of Hayley, and the relationship she had to three of her kills (direct witness to Steve, James' best friend's girlfriend, somewhat-ally of Jason), Charlie had been, for a second, scared out of her mind over what Hayley was going to do. Then, all Hayley did was wave Charlie away, which confused Charlie, who was now wondering what the hell she was to do.
Run. Now. (No. Shoot them. Don't be number five!) Number five? What's that? Just get out of there, Chuck! (She's killed four people! She'll blow your head off first chance she gets!) My name isn't Chuck! Stop calling me that! Okay, stop, all of me! I'm just going to back away, slowly, facing them, holding onto the gun. (Sounds pretty good.) Sure, whatever.
"Yeah. Sure." Charlie just slowly stepped back, her right hand creeping into her issued bag, taking hold of the pistol inside, just in case Hayley decided to kill her with some hidden weapon inside her, well, Hayley probably had some sort of weapon hidden away. Charlie wouldn't put it past her.
Survivor: UCONN - Seriously, it's awesome!
Version 8
Kaede Tsurumi: "Eeep! I-I'm so sorry! I-I'll try not to get in your w-way next time!"
Morgan Whitney
Tyler Slomkowski
Victor Grail: "I didn't give you the lead so that you could lose it! I guess it's up to me to carry us after all."
Version 8
Kaede Tsurumi: "Eeep! I-I'm so sorry! I-I'll try not to get in your w-way next time!"
Morgan Whitney
Tyler Slomkowski
Victor Grail: "I didn't give you the lead so that you could lose it! I guess it's up to me to carry us after all."
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armeggedonCounselor†
- Posts: 190
- Joined: Sat Sep 01, 2018 5:24 am
Hayley reacted with characteristic derision, shooing the annoyance away. Charlene, for her part, complied, backing up slowly. Then Kyle saw her reach for her bag, where she was surely holding a weapon. His hand shot back and drew his knife, spinning it into position.
"Keep your hands where we can see them!"
A demand, not a request. His voice took on a hard edge as he glared toward the girl. The annoyance. The enemy.
((Bluh. Short post is short.))
"Keep your hands where we can see them!"
A demand, not a request. His voice took on a hard edge as he glared toward the girl. The annoyance. The enemy.
((Bluh. Short post is short.))
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler armeggedonCounselor. 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
"Yeah. Sure."
Jesus bloody Christ. If it was gonna be that easy, why did they have to talk at all? Why couldn't Charlene have just buggered off on her own and, like, not completely ruined the moment that was almost becoming a real moment and not just another segment of her nervous breakdown? God, hookups were so difficult, here on Survival of the Fittest. Hayley returned her attention to where it would be better appreciated- the boy whose hair one of her hands was still gripping- but saw immediately that that attention was not being returned. In fact, Kyle was fixed entirely on Charlene, and she was just about to say something along the lines of this is no time to be staring at tits that aren't mine when she saw the look on his face.
That look suggested that she turn around herself, and so she did.
Oh...
Over the next few hours, when she'd play this moment in time back over and over again in her mind, this would all be in slow motion. Reality wasn't so convenient.
"Keep your hands where we can see them!"
She saw his knife before she registered Charlene. More specifically, she was the glint of something, saw light glancing off of something, and a flick of her eyes in that direction confirmed that yes, it was Kyle's shiny shiny knife. Before she had the chance to ask why he was going so hard when Charlene was leaving anyway, she realized that she wasn't. And that her hand was stuck in her bag. And didn't Charlene have a gun when I saw- ...oh.
Oh, no-
If she'd had another minute, just another second, another instant to speak, she could've stopped him. She knew she could've. But the whole thing took happened so quickly, no one could've stopped it. No one could've changed this. That was what she was going to keep telling herself, over and over, and maybe then it would be true.
But she saw the glint of something in the light, and saw that something move, and she saw Charlene's arm move almost with it, almost at the same moment-
And Hayley shut her eyes.
Too goddamn late.
Jesus bloody Christ. If it was gonna be that easy, why did they have to talk at all? Why couldn't Charlene have just buggered off on her own and, like, not completely ruined the moment that was almost becoming a real moment and not just another segment of her nervous breakdown? God, hookups were so difficult, here on Survival of the Fittest. Hayley returned her attention to where it would be better appreciated- the boy whose hair one of her hands was still gripping- but saw immediately that that attention was not being returned. In fact, Kyle was fixed entirely on Charlene, and she was just about to say something along the lines of this is no time to be staring at tits that aren't mine when she saw the look on his face.
That look suggested that she turn around herself, and so she did.
Oh...
Over the next few hours, when she'd play this moment in time back over and over again in her mind, this would all be in slow motion. Reality wasn't so convenient.
"Keep your hands where we can see them!"
She saw his knife before she registered Charlene. More specifically, she was the glint of something, saw light glancing off of something, and a flick of her eyes in that direction confirmed that yes, it was Kyle's shiny shiny knife. Before she had the chance to ask why he was going so hard when Charlene was leaving anyway, she realized that she wasn't. And that her hand was stuck in her bag. And didn't Charlene have a gun when I saw- ...oh.
Oh, no-
If she'd had another minute, just another second, another instant to speak, she could've stopped him. She knew she could've. But the whole thing took happened so quickly, no one could've stopped it. No one could've changed this. That was what she was going to keep telling herself, over and over, and maybe then it would be true.
But she saw the glint of something in the light, and saw that something move, and she saw Charlene's arm move almost with it, almost at the same moment-
And Hayley shut her eyes.
Too goddamn late.
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.
"Keep your hands where we can see them!"
Charlie raised her hands, releasing her gun and displaying them for both Hayley and Kyle to see as being clearly empty.
"Fine. You got me. I was reaching for what they gave me. But you don't think I have good reason to? Hayley's killed four people. I saw her kill Steve, I was allied with Jason, and James was my best friend's boyfriend. And you'd better think yourself lucky." She turned to Hayley. "Alex doesn't want you to be hurt, and I defended him and quite possibly lost by best friend in the process. Since things haven't gone to shit, I'll give you the chance you're giving me. You let me walk, and none of us get hurt."
Charlene backed away, keeping her eyes on the couple, until she was far enough away so that she was sure that neither Hayley nor Kyle could hurt her. Then she turned around and ran away.
Had Charlie been thinking about leaving a little more rationally, that is how the scene would have gone down. Kyle's statement would have been redundant, as at worst, her right hand would have been on the bag, rather than inside it. That wasn't the problem. The problem wasn't even the mean-looking knife that Kyle displayed at the ready.
The fact is, had it simply been Charlene and Kyle, Charlie would have probably just let go of the gun, displayed her hands, and left. It was Hayley's presence that complicated things, and caused Charlie to recall the final moments of a certain person to mind:
Steve Barnes. His head was about a foot away from his body, blood leaking from his neck. That image that had been embedded in her head for the past four days, and now was pushed right back into the forefront as the world temporarily paused itself ...
She's going to cut my head off, she's going to cut my head off, she's going to cut my head off, she's going to cut my head off, she's going to cut my head off ...
... And then everything went straight back to normal motion. Kyle's arm moved, throwing the knife as Charlie moved to her right, quickly enough to ...
Pain shot through her upper arm as the knife embedded itself about an inch below her left shoulder. Charlie didn't think, didn't scream, just reacted.
BANG (39 rounds remain)
BANG (38 rounds remain)
BANG (37 rounds remain)
As Charlene hit the ground, she hardly registered the fact that her arm hurt, or that the shots had likely blown out her ears, thanks to the adrenaline now running through her system. She just got up and ran, pulling the knife out of her arm, not even realizing that the bullets had actually hit something ...
((Charlene Norris continued in Anthem for Doomed Youth))
Charlie raised her hands, releasing her gun and displaying them for both Hayley and Kyle to see as being clearly empty.
"Fine. You got me. I was reaching for what they gave me. But you don't think I have good reason to? Hayley's killed four people. I saw her kill Steve, I was allied with Jason, and James was my best friend's boyfriend. And you'd better think yourself lucky." She turned to Hayley. "Alex doesn't want you to be hurt, and I defended him and quite possibly lost by best friend in the process. Since things haven't gone to shit, I'll give you the chance you're giving me. You let me walk, and none of us get hurt."
Charlene backed away, keeping her eyes on the couple, until she was far enough away so that she was sure that neither Hayley nor Kyle could hurt her. Then she turned around and ran away.
Had Charlie been thinking about leaving a little more rationally, that is how the scene would have gone down. Kyle's statement would have been redundant, as at worst, her right hand would have been on the bag, rather than inside it. That wasn't the problem. The problem wasn't even the mean-looking knife that Kyle displayed at the ready.
The fact is, had it simply been Charlene and Kyle, Charlie would have probably just let go of the gun, displayed her hands, and left. It was Hayley's presence that complicated things, and caused Charlie to recall the final moments of a certain person to mind:
Steve Barnes. His head was about a foot away from his body, blood leaking from his neck. That image that had been embedded in her head for the past four days, and now was pushed right back into the forefront as the world temporarily paused itself ...
She's going to cut my head off, she's going to cut my head off, she's going to cut my head off, she's going to cut my head off, she's going to cut my head off ...
... And then everything went straight back to normal motion. Kyle's arm moved, throwing the knife as Charlie moved to her right, quickly enough to ...
Pain shot through her upper arm as the knife embedded itself about an inch below her left shoulder. Charlie didn't think, didn't scream, just reacted.
BANG (39 rounds remain)
BANG (38 rounds remain)
BANG (37 rounds remain)
As Charlene hit the ground, she hardly registered the fact that her arm hurt, or that the shots had likely blown out her ears, thanks to the adrenaline now running through her system. She just got up and ran, pulling the knife out of her arm, not even realizing that the bullets had actually hit something ...
((Charlene Norris continued in Anthem for Doomed Youth))
Survivor: UCONN - Seriously, it's awesome!
Version 8
Kaede Tsurumi: "Eeep! I-I'm so sorry! I-I'll try not to get in your w-way next time!"
Morgan Whitney
Tyler Slomkowski
Victor Grail: "I didn't give you the lead so that you could lose it! I guess it's up to me to carry us after all."
Version 8
Kaede Tsurumi: "Eeep! I-I'm so sorry! I-I'll try not to get in your w-way next time!"
Morgan Whitney
Tyler Slomkowski
Victor Grail: "I didn't give you the lead so that you could lose it! I guess it's up to me to carry us after all."
-
armeggedonCounselor†
- Posts: 190
- Joined: Sat Sep 01, 2018 5:24 am
Kyle reacted as Charlene accelerated her movement. Swiftly, he stepped between her and Hayley, pushed Hayley out of the way and, in the same motion, threw the knife. His brain registered three shots.
And then... pain. Oh God the pain.
His side was burning, and he fell over backward, gasping for breath. Oh god, oh god no no why the pain. He could feel air slipping through his fingers, tightly clasped on the hole, the bleeding hole in his chest. Through the red haze, he saw that Charlene had run, and he relaxed mentally. Hayley was safe.
If only the same could be said for him. He gasped for breath again, feeling his own blood, sticky and warm, slipping through his fingers, despite his desperate attempts to stem the flow. It was pathetic really, trying to keep his blood in by hand. He looked to his left, to where Hayley had landed. It occurred to him that his glasses had fallen off sometime during the hubbub. Didn't matter now. He reached out to her, trying to tell her, "Don't cry. Don't cry." He couldn't muster the breath for the words, couldn't make his mouth move in such a way to form the letters.
A harsh cough shook his body, spraying blood from his mouth as his body exercised the futile practice of expelling the blood from his lungs. The pain gripped him again, and he rolled over and vomited. Away from Hayley. She shouldn't see him like this, in this state.
He was beginning to feel cold, his limbs growing heavy. With great effort, he rolled back to face Hayley. He dipped his finger in his own blood and drew a simple symbol on the ground: <3.
His arm collapsed uselessly at his side and his breathing grew shallow. His eyes dimmed as he tried to focus on Hayley's face. He mustered a final smile, and then his eyes closed.
And they never opened again.
[[Kyle Portman, Boy #127: DECEASED]]
((Happy Valentines Day, everybody!))
And then... pain. Oh God the pain.
His side was burning, and he fell over backward, gasping for breath. Oh god, oh god no no why the pain. He could feel air slipping through his fingers, tightly clasped on the hole, the bleeding hole in his chest. Through the red haze, he saw that Charlene had run, and he relaxed mentally. Hayley was safe.
If only the same could be said for him. He gasped for breath again, feeling his own blood, sticky and warm, slipping through his fingers, despite his desperate attempts to stem the flow. It was pathetic really, trying to keep his blood in by hand. He looked to his left, to where Hayley had landed. It occurred to him that his glasses had fallen off sometime during the hubbub. Didn't matter now. He reached out to her, trying to tell her, "Don't cry. Don't cry." He couldn't muster the breath for the words, couldn't make his mouth move in such a way to form the letters.
A harsh cough shook his body, spraying blood from his mouth as his body exercised the futile practice of expelling the blood from his lungs. The pain gripped him again, and he rolled over and vomited. Away from Hayley. She shouldn't see him like this, in this state.
He was beginning to feel cold, his limbs growing heavy. With great effort, he rolled back to face Hayley. He dipped his finger in his own blood and drew a simple symbol on the ground: <3.
His arm collapsed uselessly at his side and his breathing grew shallow. His eyes dimmed as he tried to focus on Hayley's face. He mustered a final smile, and then his eyes closed.
And they never opened again.
[[Kyle Portman, Boy #127: DECEASED]]
((Happy Valentines Day, everybody!))
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler armeggedonCounselor. 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.
A sudden, sharp sound awoke Ema from her waking daze. Having nothing to do had become so mind-numbing, all she could focus on was watching the treeline all around her, pacing around, hoping she didn't see anyone approaching. There were another two directly afterwards, and it didn't take long for the girl to identify them as gunshots. She almost dismissed them, "Great, Hayley's shooting someone aga--"
But I have her gun.
That realisation made her heart skip a beat.
Then it came back in full force, racing with fear and adrenaline. Somebody was shooting, it was coming from the direction Hayley and Kyle had gone off in. And it wasn't either of them.
"Hayley!?"
No response.
Ema took off running.
By the grace of whatever was watching over her, she had the luck not to trip over any more undergrowth. At worst, she had to barge past some small branches, slowing her a little. She didn't hear anything.
She didn't want to believe Hayley could've been hit. But it was worth a try.
"Kyle!?"
No response from him, either.
No... no no no...
Ema didn't want Hayley to be dead, but she wanted even less for them both to be gone.
She didn't want to be alone.
Panic flooded Ema's mind, and she sped up. The hood of her coat flew off of her head, and as it was unzipped, the back billowed out behind her. Only her forward-leaning posture kept the arms from slipping off of her shoulders, too. And then she saw it.
It was unmistakable, the kind of thing where you have no idea what to expect, but know it's exactly what you were looking for when you see it. Except in the most morbid manner imaginable.
Hayley was alive.
Kyle wasn't.
Ema stopped dead.
Whoever had done it was no longer around, no, they were on their way out. Someone Ema didn't recognise - surprise surprise - fleeing into the distance. It was just as well, Ema didn't have the slightest idea how to speak to Hayley at that moment, attempting to retaliate was the best she could do. She lifted the gun, placed her right index-finger to the trigger and her left to the squared trigger-guard, cradling her right hand in her left palm. For some reason, the entire preparation felt so very natural.
But the trigger wouldn't budge. Ema cursed, a rather quiet "Fuck!" under her breath, and fumbled for the safety. By the time she'd turned it off, Charlene was long gone.
Ema put the safety back on, and lowered the gun, holding it by her side, dejected, disappointed in herself.
She turned to face Hayley, and instantly froze up.
What the hell are you supposed to say at a time like this?
But I have her gun.
That realisation made her heart skip a beat.
Then it came back in full force, racing with fear and adrenaline. Somebody was shooting, it was coming from the direction Hayley and Kyle had gone off in. And it wasn't either of them.
"Hayley!?"
No response.
Ema took off running.
By the grace of whatever was watching over her, she had the luck not to trip over any more undergrowth. At worst, she had to barge past some small branches, slowing her a little. She didn't hear anything.
She didn't want to believe Hayley could've been hit. But it was worth a try.
"Kyle!?"
No response from him, either.
No... no no no...
Ema didn't want Hayley to be dead, but she wanted even less for them both to be gone.
She didn't want to be alone.
Panic flooded Ema's mind, and she sped up. The hood of her coat flew off of her head, and as it was unzipped, the back billowed out behind her. Only her forward-leaning posture kept the arms from slipping off of her shoulders, too. And then she saw it.
It was unmistakable, the kind of thing where you have no idea what to expect, but know it's exactly what you were looking for when you see it. Except in the most morbid manner imaginable.
Hayley was alive.
Kyle wasn't.
Ema stopped dead.
Whoever had done it was no longer around, no, they were on their way out. Someone Ema didn't recognise - surprise surprise - fleeing into the distance. It was just as well, Ema didn't have the slightest idea how to speak to Hayley at that moment, attempting to retaliate was the best she could do. She lifted the gun, placed her right index-finger to the trigger and her left to the squared trigger-guard, cradling her right hand in her left palm. For some reason, the entire preparation felt so very natural.
But the trigger wouldn't budge. Ema cursed, a rather quiet "Fuck!" under her breath, and fumbled for the safety. By the time she'd turned it off, Charlene was long gone.
Ema put the safety back on, and lowered the gun, holding it by her side, dejected, disappointed in herself.
She turned to face Hayley, and instantly froze up.
What the hell are you supposed to say at a time like this?
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.
-
Hollyquin†
- Posts: 332
- Joined: Sat Sep 01, 2018 5:24 am
She was on the ground. How was she on the ground? This was one of those in-the-moment mental inconveniences, where you can't comprehend exactly what's happening while it's happening, but it'd make perfect sense later, when she'd be able to clearly remember the moment when Kyle pushed her over. For her own protection. Because
because so much was going so wrong.
So here in present time, here she was, on the floor, with that glint of something, that glint of light moving fast, and Charlene's hand moved with it, and along with that movement came those sounds, three in a row, so familiar and yet still so fucking gut-wrenching-
BANG
BANG
BANG
But then she was gone. Charlene was gone, that fucking intrusive moment-killer (what's the opposite of a cockblock? well, she was that too, I guess) and now she and Kyle were alone again and Hayley Kelly, bless her heart, her first comprehensible thought was Took her long enough. Now where were we?
Of course, Hayley knew. Of course, Hayley wasn't a complete idiot. Of course, Hayley was in blissful denial, at least for the second she let herself be suspended in time before the truth hit her and Kyle, her boyfriend, the boy who she may or may not love- have loved? -he hit the ground.
She stared at him. Blood was escaping his chest, rapidly dying his shirt and the ground red and she'd seen all this before but not quite like this. Her eyes were dry, completely. her tears all wasted on vague fears and selfish wishes, things made trivial. Tears would be insulting. Besides, how could she cry when her mind had gone so blank, so numb, so useless?
He drew a heart. A heart, with blood in the ground. That was so dorky. So cute. So Kyle.
She might have laughed, if there weren't these choking sounds attempting to escape her throat.
His arm fell now. She thought she could hear his heart in the silence of the woods, pounding out of time, harder, making up for its lack of remaining time by beating hard as it could. He was breathing harder now, keeping time, and through it all all she could do was hope that her expression wasn't as blank and numb and dead as she felt. All she could do was watch in silence, deadly dead silence as he smiled and she felt her mouth force itself to mimic the action. She smiled at him through dead eyes as his dead eyes fluttered closed.
And all was still.
"Kyle?"
Her voice escaped that choking, that horrible clenched feeling in her throat, as she addressed the boy who was not moving at all. She reached out to touch him, to shake him, noticing for the first time that there was blood on her and only noticing in that detached, back-brain sort of way that would not be acknowledged, not really, until much later. For now, though, she touched his shoulder. Nudged him. Hayley Kelly was deep in denial.
But she knew. She did. But she couldn't know. Because if she knew, it was true.
Because she'd had enough nervous breakdowns for one day, thank you. Denial could put this one on the back-burner, at least for a moment or two.
"Wake up."
liar. failure. loser.
"Please, just..please. Please, just wake up."
murderer. scum. trash.
She touched him again, and his body moved with her touch, staying where it was pushed in a way that provoked her gag reflex. A fly landed on his cheek and she brushed it away reflexively, her hand staying on his cheek. Still warm. Cooling rapidly.
"Stop...stop, fuck, you're not funny, we have to go, okay? Wake up, yeah? Please..."
She looked up, suddenly, instinct provoking her.
There was Ema. Holding her gun.
The look on her face said so much.
The choking was back. Her voice was a pathetic shadow of itself.
"E-Ema?"
See what happened to Kyle.
"He's..."
Dead. He's dead.
"...he's..."
you're pathetic.
shut up. please.
i...i'm trying.
because so much was going so wrong.
So here in present time, here she was, on the floor, with that glint of something, that glint of light moving fast, and Charlene's hand moved with it, and along with that movement came those sounds, three in a row, so familiar and yet still so fucking gut-wrenching-
BANG
BANG
BANG
But then she was gone. Charlene was gone, that fucking intrusive moment-killer (what's the opposite of a cockblock? well, she was that too, I guess) and now she and Kyle were alone again and Hayley Kelly, bless her heart, her first comprehensible thought was Took her long enough. Now where were we?
Of course, Hayley knew. Of course, Hayley wasn't a complete idiot. Of course, Hayley was in blissful denial, at least for the second she let herself be suspended in time before the truth hit her and Kyle, her boyfriend, the boy who she may or may not love- have loved? -he hit the ground.
She stared at him. Blood was escaping his chest, rapidly dying his shirt and the ground red and she'd seen all this before but not quite like this. Her eyes were dry, completely. her tears all wasted on vague fears and selfish wishes, things made trivial. Tears would be insulting. Besides, how could she cry when her mind had gone so blank, so numb, so useless?
He drew a heart. A heart, with blood in the ground. That was so dorky. So cute. So Kyle.
She might have laughed, if there weren't these choking sounds attempting to escape her throat.
His arm fell now. She thought she could hear his heart in the silence of the woods, pounding out of time, harder, making up for its lack of remaining time by beating hard as it could. He was breathing harder now, keeping time, and through it all all she could do was hope that her expression wasn't as blank and numb and dead as she felt. All she could do was watch in silence, deadly dead silence as he smiled and she felt her mouth force itself to mimic the action. She smiled at him through dead eyes as his dead eyes fluttered closed.
And all was still.
"Kyle?"
Her voice escaped that choking, that horrible clenched feeling in her throat, as she addressed the boy who was not moving at all. She reached out to touch him, to shake him, noticing for the first time that there was blood on her and only noticing in that detached, back-brain sort of way that would not be acknowledged, not really, until much later. For now, though, she touched his shoulder. Nudged him. Hayley Kelly was deep in denial.
But she knew. She did. But she couldn't know. Because if she knew, it was true.
Because she'd had enough nervous breakdowns for one day, thank you. Denial could put this one on the back-burner, at least for a moment or two.
"Wake up."
liar. failure. loser.
"Please, just..please. Please, just wake up."
murderer. scum. trash.
She touched him again, and his body moved with her touch, staying where it was pushed in a way that provoked her gag reflex. A fly landed on his cheek and she brushed it away reflexively, her hand staying on his cheek. Still warm. Cooling rapidly.
"Stop...stop, fuck, you're not funny, we have to go, okay? Wake up, yeah? Please..."
She looked up, suddenly, instinct provoking her.
There was Ema. Holding her gun.
The look on her face said so much.
The choking was back. Her voice was a pathetic shadow of itself.
"E-Ema?"
See what happened to Kyle.
"He's..."
Dead. He's dead.
"...he's..."
you're pathetic.
shut up. please.
i...i'm trying.
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.