Dear diary:
It seemed almost funny to be writing in a diary at a time like this, but Maggie Heartgreeder (Female Student no. 31) could think of no better way to vent her current frustrations. It had been three days now since Hobbsborough High School's seemingly innocent school trip had taken a turn for the worst. They said it couldn't happen again. They said it couldn't be done now that the United States had cracked down so much on air travel. They... were wrong.
This may, once again, be the last time I'll be writing you. It has now been seventy-two hours since our school was abducted from the class trip, and if Mr. Danya's ramblings are truly correct, thirty people have died. Thirty lives have been lost that will never be regained, and for what?
For what, indeed? To settle some pointless vendetta against the United States? Maggie Heartgreeder was no politician, and she would freely admit that even she thought the government had made several bad decisions in the past. Still, why did that mean that innocent children, barely into the world, had to suffer? But, isn't that how war always works? The big wigs behind the desks run the show, but it's the kids who are out on the front lines, killing and gunning down other children in nothing more than an overdone macho contest.
For seventy-two hours, I have done nothing but run and stay hidden from site. I am too afraid to turn to my peers for sanctuary and solace. It is in times of turmoil that I wonder who I can truly trust and who I must cast aside. Is my life truly worth any more than the thirty who have already given their lives to this horrible game? I may say no, but the fact remains, I have no deathwish.
When she heard that the lighthouse had been cleared as a dangerzone, she decided to hide here. She had made an attempt at barricading the place, but it was a very large building, and so beyond her capacity to fully barricade it. From the looks of it, someone had tried to hide here before it became a dangerzone. Perhaps Danya had driven them out out of spite? It was a shame she hadn't run into them. Anybody attempting to hide from this game couldn't possibly be the enemy.
It frightens me that I think of my peers as the "enemy" now. We shouldn't be hiding from one another... fighting one another. We should be standing together, united, in opposition to this twisted and demented thing that Mr. Danya calls a "game". We should band together and fight back. Still, some are far too into the game now to listen to me. I'd only be signing my own death certificate if I made that attempt.
The bowie knife that had been her designated weapon lay near her feet as Maggie sat on the cold tile of the lighthouse floor inside a locked room. It was a cruel reminder that try as she might, she could never truly run away from the game. Even if this place never went dangerzone again throughout the course of the game, someone would inevitably have the same idea that she did -- to hide in this very room. What would she do then? Hope they spared her life because she was no threat?
How much longer will I have to run?
This was the first time that Maggie had stopped since she awoke on the island. She had taken the occassional break, of course, to eat and the like, but she had miraculously been able to stay hidden for the first three days of the game. Somehow, she knew that her fortune wouldn't last much longer. If she hoped to get out of here, she'd have to do something besides barricade herself in a room until it turned into a dangerzone.
I close with this story to remind myself of my faith. A pilgrim once traveled down a sandy beach until he encountered God. The pilgrim asked God, "Lord, why are there two sets of footsteps during the easy times in my life, but only one in my most trying?" The Lord replied, "Because my son, during the good times, I walked alongside you. During the bad times, I carried you." It's been years since I've heard that story, and it's memory has faded with time, but it is now that I look to the Lord, my Savior, to carry me through this trial.
She reread the story once more, thinking upon its words. How many others had prayed to their God, hoping for salvation from this game, only to meet the most grisly of deaths? How many others, even on this island, had looked to their faith for hope and found none? Still, she mustn't give up hope, because hope... and faith in others, they were all that Maggie Heartgreeder had at this moment.
Lord... carry me through this.
Sweet Serenity
The Debut of G31
Sweet Serenity
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((Continued from Weapons drop))
And miles to go before I sleep...
The line had been emblazoned in Blake Ross' mind since the death of Gregory Moyer. The world was falling apart and all he could do was grasp at the disjointed fragments and try to keep his footing. In the last two days he had not slept, he had not eaten and his water consumption had been minimal at best. On top of all that, Blake was nursing a dislocated shoulder.
The bruise left from the sponge grenade of B02 was massive. It sprawled from the left side of his ribcage and carried on across to the base of his left triceps. His whole arm dangled awkwardly as he ran for the cover of the lighthouse. He had ducked behind some shrubbery and taken the necessary notes before running ingloriously away.
He had no idea what would await him at the lighthouse, he just knew that they had just cleared it as a danger zone so he figured people wouldn't exactly have gathered there.
Blake didn't even know what his own motivation was anymore, he just wanted to be anywhere but here. He didn't want to be around these people anymore, he didn't want to be around himself. He wanted to live, but he didn't want to kill, he wanted to escape, but he didn't want to talk to anyone and based on his knowledge on version one, escape was pretty much irrelevant.
He was still living... he didn't now if that counted for much based on the previous death list...
He staggered up to the lighthouse, barely coherent, but nevertheless, his escalating paranoia of others kept Blake on edge. He peered around before crashing through the half-barricaded doorway, tripping over a wooden plank.
He fell to the ground, his arm slammed awkwardly onto the floor as he burst into insane laughter. It started as a low chuckle and turned into a full blow laughing fit as the pain and sleep deprivation racked his body. The laughter died down as he slowly came to his sense and hauled himself up against the wall.
As his sense flooded back to him, he peered around the room with sore red eyes and spied out a young girl. He was too tired this time to run, too exhausted to get up and fight. He had to resort to his least favourite tactic: interaction.
To Blake it was always like by interacting with someone he had to give up a part of himself, that's why he had balled himself up most of the time. He would occasionally passing for the class clown or the quit smart kid to get himself out of a meaningful conversation. He wasn't a very sociable person... Still, this girl didn't look to be out for blood, but he wasn't prepared to learn opposite, the hard way.
"Oh, God," he muttered through dry lips and a sore throat. His voice was dull, low and grim. "I don't want to fight or anything. I'm just so tired... I just wanna go to sleep... I just... I..."
Blake trailed of as he blinked in and out of consciousness. His exhaustion outrivaled his fear, and it was time to face the music.
And miles to go before I sleep...
The line had been emblazoned in Blake Ross' mind since the death of Gregory Moyer. The world was falling apart and all he could do was grasp at the disjointed fragments and try to keep his footing. In the last two days he had not slept, he had not eaten and his water consumption had been minimal at best. On top of all that, Blake was nursing a dislocated shoulder.
The bruise left from the sponge grenade of B02 was massive. It sprawled from the left side of his ribcage and carried on across to the base of his left triceps. His whole arm dangled awkwardly as he ran for the cover of the lighthouse. He had ducked behind some shrubbery and taken the necessary notes before running ingloriously away.
He had no idea what would await him at the lighthouse, he just knew that they had just cleared it as a danger zone so he figured people wouldn't exactly have gathered there.
Blake didn't even know what his own motivation was anymore, he just wanted to be anywhere but here. He didn't want to be around these people anymore, he didn't want to be around himself. He wanted to live, but he didn't want to kill, he wanted to escape, but he didn't want to talk to anyone and based on his knowledge on version one, escape was pretty much irrelevant.
He was still living... he didn't now if that counted for much based on the previous death list...
He staggered up to the lighthouse, barely coherent, but nevertheless, his escalating paranoia of others kept Blake on edge. He peered around before crashing through the half-barricaded doorway, tripping over a wooden plank.
He fell to the ground, his arm slammed awkwardly onto the floor as he burst into insane laughter. It started as a low chuckle and turned into a full blow laughing fit as the pain and sleep deprivation racked his body. The laughter died down as he slowly came to his sense and hauled himself up against the wall.
As his sense flooded back to him, he peered around the room with sore red eyes and spied out a young girl. He was too tired this time to run, too exhausted to get up and fight. He had to resort to his least favourite tactic: interaction.
To Blake it was always like by interacting with someone he had to give up a part of himself, that's why he had balled himself up most of the time. He would occasionally passing for the class clown or the quit smart kid to get himself out of a meaningful conversation. He wasn't a very sociable person... Still, this girl didn't look to be out for blood, but he wasn't prepared to learn opposite, the hard way.
"Oh, God," he muttered through dry lips and a sore throat. His voice was dull, low and grim. "I don't want to fight or anything. I'm just so tired... I just wanna go to sleep... I just... I..."
Blake trailed of as he blinked in and out of consciousness. His exhaustion outrivaled his fear, and it was time to face the music.
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AtomicWaffle†
- Posts: 230
- Joined: Sun Jan 27, 2019 6:55 am
((Continued From: A Change of Heart))
As chaotic as his thoughts were, the long walk to the now-safe lighthouse was a chance for Garry to do some thinking about his present situation.
Murder...The end of another human being's life. Am I really ready to give up the very last shread of sanity I have left just to live a life of nightmares? Will I win I wonder? Come to think of it, in this situation, nobody wins. That is, unless Danya is caught. Huge Chance of that. Really... Where is the fucker?
Sanity...It's all relative. I don't even feel guilty anymore. Just... apathy for people. People say that after you kill, you have nightmares all your life, therapy and shit. All too true. The second kill...Just as bad. Third...Well I don't really know what that's like. I will soon enough.
All in all, I can't help but see some sort of structured plan for me. Some instance of fate has set me up for this - Game - but for what reason? Why am I here, on this day, walking to this lighthouse to what could be my own death? I guess there really isn't any way for me to know.
How the fuck am I going to win? No real way to do it without killing someone. Make that many people. Adam came through, trying to avoid murder, and yet he ended up with a body count of 12 or some people. Irony. Well... I've so far killed a kid with strange jeans... I guess that amounts to something. And that Derrin kid is pretty much out of the competetion. Simply moving would be agonizing. All the cut skin rubbing together. Pure agony. Slice up a few more, and I'll just leave the rest to kill eachother. Come to the end of the game, it will be as easy as stabbing the "winner" in the back.
Garry reached the lighthouse. All of that thinking had distracted him from the numerous bruises and cuts across body. That explosion really beat up his back. It was a good thing he landed on someone.
"Hahaha... Poor bastard."
Garry came around the side of the Lighthouse. It looked like someone just crashed through a doorway. He walked inside cautiously to get a better look...
As chaotic as his thoughts were, the long walk to the now-safe lighthouse was a chance for Garry to do some thinking about his present situation.
Murder...The end of another human being's life. Am I really ready to give up the very last shread of sanity I have left just to live a life of nightmares? Will I win I wonder? Come to think of it, in this situation, nobody wins. That is, unless Danya is caught. Huge Chance of that. Really... Where is the fucker?
Sanity...It's all relative. I don't even feel guilty anymore. Just... apathy for people. People say that after you kill, you have nightmares all your life, therapy and shit. All too true. The second kill...Just as bad. Third...Well I don't really know what that's like. I will soon enough.
All in all, I can't help but see some sort of structured plan for me. Some instance of fate has set me up for this - Game - but for what reason? Why am I here, on this day, walking to this lighthouse to what could be my own death? I guess there really isn't any way for me to know.
How the fuck am I going to win? No real way to do it without killing someone. Make that many people. Adam came through, trying to avoid murder, and yet he ended up with a body count of 12 or some people. Irony. Well... I've so far killed a kid with strange jeans... I guess that amounts to something. And that Derrin kid is pretty much out of the competetion. Simply moving would be agonizing. All the cut skin rubbing together. Pure agony. Slice up a few more, and I'll just leave the rest to kill eachother. Come to the end of the game, it will be as easy as stabbing the "winner" in the back.
Garry reached the lighthouse. All of that thinking had distracted him from the numerous bruises and cuts across body. That explosion really beat up his back. It was a good thing he landed on someone.
"Hahaha... Poor bastard."
Garry came around the side of the Lighthouse. It looked like someone just crashed through a doorway. He walked inside cautiously to get a better look...
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Endless_Helix†
- Posts: 92
- Joined: Mon Sep 24, 2018 3:54 am
<<Continued from G28... Start>>
The sky cried onto Harry's back, leaving him with an empty feeling inside. Rivlets poured down his neck. It wasn't a heavy rain, yet. It was only drizzling, but Harry had been walking for a long time. Everything was making him more and more depressed. No matter how much he struggled against his fate it seemed to keep him ensnared, with minimal effort. It laughed at his weakness and obscured the other paths from his vision. He knew they were there, but he just couldn't see them. This feeling of helplessness in the face of all hell burned inside him. It drove him onward to the looming shape that appeared to be the Lighthouse. Harry continued to move toword the monolithic tower, but much more quietly; he didn't know who, or what, was in that thing. Playing it safe would probably be a good idea.
Harry carefully hid in the shrubbery, to watch and see what he could figure out about the interior. It was inhabited, he heard something hit the floor with a sickening thud. Someone could have died in there, but there was no proof... Hmm... I'm going to have to go in for my self.
Dumbfounded, he saw a kid about his age run to the building with basically no forsight...
"Stupid little bastard..." Harry muttered to himself. Without thinking much himself he charged in after the kid. It wasn't clear what made the figure that had slipped in so clearly a kid in his mind, but Harry had already decided that the figure was younger than himself, and probably male.
So much for predjudices, eh?
The sky cried onto Harry's back, leaving him with an empty feeling inside. Rivlets poured down his neck. It wasn't a heavy rain, yet. It was only drizzling, but Harry had been walking for a long time. Everything was making him more and more depressed. No matter how much he struggled against his fate it seemed to keep him ensnared, with minimal effort. It laughed at his weakness and obscured the other paths from his vision. He knew they were there, but he just couldn't see them. This feeling of helplessness in the face of all hell burned inside him. It drove him onward to the looming shape that appeared to be the Lighthouse. Harry continued to move toword the monolithic tower, but much more quietly; he didn't know who, or what, was in that thing. Playing it safe would probably be a good idea.
Harry carefully hid in the shrubbery, to watch and see what he could figure out about the interior. It was inhabited, he heard something hit the floor with a sickening thud. Someone could have died in there, but there was no proof... Hmm... I'm going to have to go in for my self.
Dumbfounded, he saw a kid about his age run to the building with basically no forsight...
"Stupid little bastard..." Harry muttered to himself. Without thinking much himself he charged in after the kid. It wasn't clear what made the figure that had slipped in so clearly a kid in his mind, but Harry had already decided that the figure was younger than himself, and probably male.
So much for predjudices, eh?
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And just as quickly as the air of silence surrounding the lighthouse had come, it was taken away. Much to her surprise, within seconds after closing her journal, a figure came crashing through the shoddy barricade she had put up against the door and fell to the floor in a fit of laughter. Just as quickly, a fearful and disgruntled Maggie Heartgreeder snatched the bowie knife from its stationary position on the floor, not brandishing it at the intruder, but keeping it out of his grasp at the same time.
Then, for just a moment, the newcomer looked up at her.
It was strange, looking at another human being, just like her. Just another captive of one, Mr. Danya, and his twisted game of musical chairs. She couldn't help but notice the collar around Blake Ross's neck, and for just a moment, it made her remember that she, too, bore one of those monstrosities around her own neck. She was so lost in her own thoughts for that moment that the boy talking to her once again caught her completely offguard.
"I don't want to fight or anything. I'm just so tired... I just wanna go to sleep... I just... I..."
Just as quickly, the boy who had so brazenly crashed through her barricade was fading in and out of consciousness, and despite their current situation, Maggie couldn't help but feel some sort of compassion for the boy. His arm was twisted at an awkward angle, and he looked to be in an immense amount of pain. Still not relinquishing the knife, Maggie took a few steps toward the boy, her empty hand outstretched to show that she meant no harm.
"Jesus... are... are you okay?"
Innocence and naiveté, while coveted traits by many, are also very dangerous. She approached the boy, thoughts of care and compassion blinding what dark truths may be hiding nearby. For all Maggie Heartgreeder knew, she could've been walking right into this boy's trap. But Maggie wasn't thinking about that. The only thought that ran through her mind at that precise moment was that somebody had just crashed through her barricade and looked like he was in desperate need of help.
"Here... let me help you."
She didn't quite know how to help him, and the boy's fading consciousness wouldn't help matters at all, but still, it wasn't right to leave another human being to suffer. She offered a sympathetic smile and her knife-wielding hand relaxed visibly. She had no intentions of using that thing. If the truth were told, she couldn't bring herself to use it on another person. Still... she had to have some way to protect herself, right? She might not be willing to give in to Survival of the Fittest and slaughter her peers, but there are some that would... that have.
She wondered... was this boy one of them?
She didn't really know, nor did she care. After all, does the sinner not deserve the same compassion as the saint? She'd been brought up in a highly religious household, and from a young age onward she'd been taught that judging others and making assumptions wasn't right. And so, despite the fact that this boy had obviously been in a scuffle, if not an outright fight to the death, Maggie decided that she would help him, because nobody should have to be in pain.
Of course, it was about that time that she heard it -- the footsteps of another person trampling on her now broken-down barricade and heading toward them. And right behind that figure, another set of footsteps resounded on the tile floor of the lighthouse. Maggie held her breath, looking toward the doorway. It was then that she realized something. She was standing in front of a half-conscious individual... with a bowie knife in her hand. Maggie Heartgreeder had suddenly found herself in quite the compromising position.
Then, for just a moment, the newcomer looked up at her.
It was strange, looking at another human being, just like her. Just another captive of one, Mr. Danya, and his twisted game of musical chairs. She couldn't help but notice the collar around Blake Ross's neck, and for just a moment, it made her remember that she, too, bore one of those monstrosities around her own neck. She was so lost in her own thoughts for that moment that the boy talking to her once again caught her completely offguard.
"I don't want to fight or anything. I'm just so tired... I just wanna go to sleep... I just... I..."
Just as quickly, the boy who had so brazenly crashed through her barricade was fading in and out of consciousness, and despite their current situation, Maggie couldn't help but feel some sort of compassion for the boy. His arm was twisted at an awkward angle, and he looked to be in an immense amount of pain. Still not relinquishing the knife, Maggie took a few steps toward the boy, her empty hand outstretched to show that she meant no harm.
"Jesus... are... are you okay?"
Innocence and naiveté, while coveted traits by many, are also very dangerous. She approached the boy, thoughts of care and compassion blinding what dark truths may be hiding nearby. For all Maggie Heartgreeder knew, she could've been walking right into this boy's trap. But Maggie wasn't thinking about that. The only thought that ran through her mind at that precise moment was that somebody had just crashed through her barricade and looked like he was in desperate need of help.
"Here... let me help you."
She didn't quite know how to help him, and the boy's fading consciousness wouldn't help matters at all, but still, it wasn't right to leave another human being to suffer. She offered a sympathetic smile and her knife-wielding hand relaxed visibly. She had no intentions of using that thing. If the truth were told, she couldn't bring herself to use it on another person. Still... she had to have some way to protect herself, right? She might not be willing to give in to Survival of the Fittest and slaughter her peers, but there are some that would... that have.
She wondered... was this boy one of them?
She didn't really know, nor did she care. After all, does the sinner not deserve the same compassion as the saint? She'd been brought up in a highly religious household, and from a young age onward she'd been taught that judging others and making assumptions wasn't right. And so, despite the fact that this boy had obviously been in a scuffle, if not an outright fight to the death, Maggie decided that she would help him, because nobody should have to be in pain.
Of course, it was about that time that she heard it -- the footsteps of another person trampling on her now broken-down barricade and heading toward them. And right behind that figure, another set of footsteps resounded on the tile floor of the lighthouse. Maggie held her breath, looking toward the doorway. It was then that she realized something. She was standing in front of a half-conscious individual... with a bowie knife in her hand. Maggie Heartgreeder had suddenly found herself in quite the compromising position.
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Blake shuddered and woke himself once again as the young girl approached him slowly. His arm still throbbed immensely and hung listless to his side. He was still wet from the falling rain and most of his clothing was soaked from the many times he had fallen down in his attempt to escape B02 and avoid any other trouble.
He woke himself long enough to here an un-congruent string of words come out of her mouth.
"Okay? Here... help you."
He stirred a little and looked at the approaching girl, trying to assess her with his fading senses. He couldn't make out much other then the fact that she had light blonde hair and that she was in fact a she. Blake squinted and tried to offer a few hoarse words in response.
"I'm sorry," he was sorry for a lot of things. "I don't want to hurt you..."
Blake trailed off as he slipped into the black abyss of unconsciousness. He heard a rattling coming from behind and he stirred awake once more, people were coming.
At this point, Blake really didn't care who they were, he just want to go to sleep and forget the pain for a while. If he wasn't to survive, at least he wouldn't have to deal with all this, but he would prefer not dragging someone who was kind enough to help him into what could be an impending mess.
"Go hind," his words came quicker and sterner than before. "I'll deal with them..."
Not having time to explain that he was going to just see if they didn't mean any trouble; he simply pushed back with his legs and slowly propped his body up against the lighthouse wall. He didn't wait for the young girl to leave; he simply called out to the other approaching footsteps.
"Hey. I don't want any trouble in here! Just don't try anything..."
He woke himself long enough to here an un-congruent string of words come out of her mouth.
"Okay? Here... help you."
He stirred a little and looked at the approaching girl, trying to assess her with his fading senses. He couldn't make out much other then the fact that she had light blonde hair and that she was in fact a she. Blake squinted and tried to offer a few hoarse words in response.
"I'm sorry," he was sorry for a lot of things. "I don't want to hurt you..."
Blake trailed off as he slipped into the black abyss of unconsciousness. He heard a rattling coming from behind and he stirred awake once more, people were coming.
At this point, Blake really didn't care who they were, he just want to go to sleep and forget the pain for a while. If he wasn't to survive, at least he wouldn't have to deal with all this, but he would prefer not dragging someone who was kind enough to help him into what could be an impending mess.
"Go hind," his words came quicker and sterner than before. "I'll deal with them..."
Not having time to explain that he was going to just see if they didn't mean any trouble; he simply pushed back with his legs and slowly propped his body up against the lighthouse wall. He didn't wait for the young girl to leave; he simply called out to the other approaching footsteps.
"Hey. I don't want any trouble in here! Just don't try anything..."
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AtomicWaffle†
- Posts: 230
- Joined: Sun Jan 27, 2019 6:55 am
Garry heard voices from inside the lighthouse.
Most of it was not audible, but he did make out a few words. He walked all the way inside the lighthouse, brushing off the rain from his charred jacket. Now he was able to make out the words amidst the pitter-patter of the rain.
"Hey. I don't want any trouble in here! Just don't try anything..."
Do you now? Not much of a chance of that...
Although...
"It's okay! I'm not going to try anything. I just need somewhere to-" Garry stopped talking. Behind him, he could hear faint footsteps approaching fast. He calmly gripped the handle of his knife.
Wait for it...Wait for it...
Suprisingly fast for his size, Garry whirled around, knife at the ready.
A boy was running at him, he could guess to be a little younger than himself, probably a year. Garry could never judge the age of anyone very well, he was often mistaken himself for being a lot older than he really was. Garry towers over most people at six foot-seven.
Garry took a step back, and motioned for the other boy to stop moving at him. Hopefully he would be able to avoid any kind of a fight, he wanted to make sure all of his kills were out of sight of any other students.
He isn't going to stop, is he?
Most of it was not audible, but he did make out a few words. He walked all the way inside the lighthouse, brushing off the rain from his charred jacket. Now he was able to make out the words amidst the pitter-patter of the rain.
"Hey. I don't want any trouble in here! Just don't try anything..."
Do you now? Not much of a chance of that...
Although...
"It's okay! I'm not going to try anything. I just need somewhere to-" Garry stopped talking. Behind him, he could hear faint footsteps approaching fast. He calmly gripped the handle of his knife.
Wait for it...Wait for it...
Suprisingly fast for his size, Garry whirled around, knife at the ready.
A boy was running at him, he could guess to be a little younger than himself, probably a year. Garry could never judge the age of anyone very well, he was often mistaken himself for being a lot older than he really was. Garry towers over most people at six foot-seven.
Garry took a step back, and motioned for the other boy to stop moving at him. Hopefully he would be able to avoid any kind of a fight, he wanted to make sure all of his kills were out of sight of any other students.
He isn't going to stop, is he?
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Endless_Helix†
- Posts: 92
- Joined: Mon Sep 24, 2018 3:54 am
Harry saw the knife and skidded to a halt. He'd never really noticed how the eye immediately focusses on the most dangerous thing in the area, in this case, a knife that was pointing at him. It didn't help that the knife was about a foot in front of his face. Harry was shaking a little. He'd just come close to getting his eye impaled on a rather large blade.
"Um... Yikes. Could you put away the knife? I think I just about shit myself..." Harry's voice managed a very credible quiver, "I don't want to hurt anyone. If you want me to leave, I'll be heading off now."
The surprising thing was, the kid that Harry came in here to protect turned out to be a giant about a bit older than he himself was, and currently had a knife disasterously close to Harry's eye. Life's full of surprises wasn't it? Harry thought as he slowly and carefully backed away a little; he didn't want to startle anyone. However, even with the adrenaline coursing through him, Harry was dead tired. He'd spent the entire night digging a grave, and hadn't slept much at all. Despite the slight ammount of rest he'd gotten in the forest, he was still dead tired. His balance was off a little, and he slipped on the rain-soaked floor, landing right on his ass.
SHITSHITSHITSHIT! Harry mentally castigated himself; he could get killed by this psycho with the knife. His mind went into overdrive about possible defenses from this position. The big guy's best option was to get on top of Harry, and use his size to knife the smaller boy wherever he pleased. It made the most sense to go for the neck, the femorial, or the armpit.
That was the moment that Harry noticed the second boy, standing behind the bigger one. He seemed to be protecting a girl with a knife, who seemed to want to protect this second boy... There was a minor conlict, which could be problematic. Harry didn't want to fight anyone in his condition, and he certainly couldn't take on all three of them like this. If anything,he wanted the second boy to tackle the big one, but it was unlikely, the big guy had turned away from the other kids, towords Harry; this implied that there was some form of understanding between them. So, in other words things were not looking up for Mr. Constantine.
"Um... Yikes. Could you put away the knife? I think I just about shit myself..." Harry's voice managed a very credible quiver, "I don't want to hurt anyone. If you want me to leave, I'll be heading off now."
The surprising thing was, the kid that Harry came in here to protect turned out to be a giant about a bit older than he himself was, and currently had a knife disasterously close to Harry's eye. Life's full of surprises wasn't it? Harry thought as he slowly and carefully backed away a little; he didn't want to startle anyone. However, even with the adrenaline coursing through him, Harry was dead tired. He'd spent the entire night digging a grave, and hadn't slept much at all. Despite the slight ammount of rest he'd gotten in the forest, he was still dead tired. His balance was off a little, and he slipped on the rain-soaked floor, landing right on his ass.
SHITSHITSHITSHIT! Harry mentally castigated himself; he could get killed by this psycho with the knife. His mind went into overdrive about possible defenses from this position. The big guy's best option was to get on top of Harry, and use his size to knife the smaller boy wherever he pleased. It made the most sense to go for the neck, the femorial, or the armpit.
That was the moment that Harry noticed the second boy, standing behind the bigger one. He seemed to be protecting a girl with a knife, who seemed to want to protect this second boy... There was a minor conlict, which could be problematic. Harry didn't want to fight anyone in his condition, and he certainly couldn't take on all three of them like this. If anything,he wanted the second boy to tackle the big one, but it was unlikely, the big guy had turned away from the other kids, towords Harry; this implied that there was some form of understanding between them. So, in other words things were not looking up for Mr. Constantine.
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AtomicWaffle†
- Posts: 230
- Joined: Sun Jan 27, 2019 6:55 am
Garry saw the fear in this boy's eyes. He was thinking... Studying the situation, trying to find some kind of defence... It would take but a lunge.
No... Garry brushed the hair out of his eyes and sheathed the knife.
"Come in... Just don't try anything."
I shouldn't either...In a situation like this, I guess I will have to make temporary 'allies.'
Garry took a few steps to the side of this other boy, closing what was left of the door.
"I guess we can hold ourselves up here for a while. People are going to start coming here, fast, so we can't get too comfortable."
Garry noticed the boy was still quite cautious. Garry realized he looked quite intimidating. He rolled his eyes "Look, I don't want to get in a fight with anyone right now, i'm a tired mess, plus I don't really approve of killing people...Unless certain circumstances have arisen" Garry looked around the room, then looking back at the boy in front of him, glaring. The long black coat Garry wore was now covered in blood, dirt, and was burnt in some places. "Ugh.." Disgusting.
"You okay?" Garry gestured to the boy leaned against a wall at the other side of the room.
I guess there won't be any violence tonight. From me at least..
No... Garry brushed the hair out of his eyes and sheathed the knife.
"Come in... Just don't try anything."
I shouldn't either...In a situation like this, I guess I will have to make temporary 'allies.'
Garry took a few steps to the side of this other boy, closing what was left of the door.
"I guess we can hold ourselves up here for a while. People are going to start coming here, fast, so we can't get too comfortable."
Garry noticed the boy was still quite cautious. Garry realized he looked quite intimidating. He rolled his eyes "Look, I don't want to get in a fight with anyone right now, i'm a tired mess, plus I don't really approve of killing people...Unless certain circumstances have arisen" Garry looked around the room, then looking back at the boy in front of him, glaring. The long black coat Garry wore was now covered in blood, dirt, and was burnt in some places. "Ugh.." Disgusting.
"You okay?" Garry gestured to the boy leaned against a wall at the other side of the room.
I guess there won't be any violence tonight. From me at least..
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the former handler AtomicWaffle.
The next few seconds seemed to fly by. Much to her surprise, an apology came out of the injured boy's mouth. His reassurance that he wasn't going to hurt anybody put Maggie at ease, but the footsteps that drew nearer and nearer wouldn't allow her to let her guard down much. The boy -- who still hadn't introduced himself -- told her to hide, but before she had time to react, the source of the footsteps, a quite large boy covered in blood and grime, appeared in the doorway.
She couldn't quite see the other figure that had followed the large boy in. What she could see was the larger boy quickly swinging around and nearly stabbing the smaller boy with his knife. A short exchange between the two boys, barely audible against the sound of the rain growing heavier against the rooftop of the lighthouse, followed, and the situation quickly seemed to diffuse itself.
The larger boy -- Garry, although she didn't know that -- invited the smaller one into the room she and Blake currently occupied and shut the door behind him. Maggie had remained quiet, watching the scene unfold from a corner of the room that she had cowered into. Garry seemed to instantly take control of the potentially dangerous situation. Despite the fact that he had just brandished his knife toward the smaller boy, he didn't seem to want a fight any more than the rest of the lighthouse occupants.
"I..." she started timidly, figuring her words would just fall on deaf ears anyway, "I think everyone here is just tired and... and looking for a place to rest. Nobody's looking for a fight, right? I don't want to fight."
Where was she even going with this? The conclusion seemed obvious. Maggie had briefly thought about banding together with the other students, but hardly considered herself someone outspoken and charismatic enough to rally students in opposition to the program. Maybe though, at least for a little while, she would have a safe place to rest with people who wouldn't attempt to slaughter her the second she turned her back. The thought was nice.
But... could these people really be trusted?
The slight tinge of paranoia in the back of her mind wouldn't go away, no matter how hard she tried to shake it from her mind. What if she did, even temporarily, band together with this group of guys? Who's to say that the second one of them fell asleep, the others wouldn't conspire to kill them? After all, only one wins, or so the rules of this so-called contest say. She tried to shake the thoughts from her mind, and simply remained quiet as Garry inquired as to Blake's current condition. For the moment, she had forgotten all about him, but her original intentions immediately came back to her mind.
Now that she thought about it, the larger boy looked quite familiar. He was, perhaps, a grade above her or something, but she could've sworn she'd seen him at school before. She couldn't quite place his name... after all, she hadn't exactly been a social butterfly at Hobbsborough. The other two boys, though, didn't look familiar in the slightest. She continued to study Garry Dodd, desperately trying to place a name to the face she could've sworn she recognized. It seemed to be in vain, but for the moment, it didn't matter. All that mattered was that the situation seemed to have calmed down dramatically, and now, for the moment, she could relax.
She couldn't quite see the other figure that had followed the large boy in. What she could see was the larger boy quickly swinging around and nearly stabbing the smaller boy with his knife. A short exchange between the two boys, barely audible against the sound of the rain growing heavier against the rooftop of the lighthouse, followed, and the situation quickly seemed to diffuse itself.
The larger boy -- Garry, although she didn't know that -- invited the smaller one into the room she and Blake currently occupied and shut the door behind him. Maggie had remained quiet, watching the scene unfold from a corner of the room that she had cowered into. Garry seemed to instantly take control of the potentially dangerous situation. Despite the fact that he had just brandished his knife toward the smaller boy, he didn't seem to want a fight any more than the rest of the lighthouse occupants.
"I..." she started timidly, figuring her words would just fall on deaf ears anyway, "I think everyone here is just tired and... and looking for a place to rest. Nobody's looking for a fight, right? I don't want to fight."
Where was she even going with this? The conclusion seemed obvious. Maggie had briefly thought about banding together with the other students, but hardly considered herself someone outspoken and charismatic enough to rally students in opposition to the program. Maybe though, at least for a little while, she would have a safe place to rest with people who wouldn't attempt to slaughter her the second she turned her back. The thought was nice.
But... could these people really be trusted?
The slight tinge of paranoia in the back of her mind wouldn't go away, no matter how hard she tried to shake it from her mind. What if she did, even temporarily, band together with this group of guys? Who's to say that the second one of them fell asleep, the others wouldn't conspire to kill them? After all, only one wins, or so the rules of this so-called contest say. She tried to shake the thoughts from her mind, and simply remained quiet as Garry inquired as to Blake's current condition. For the moment, she had forgotten all about him, but her original intentions immediately came back to her mind.
Now that she thought about it, the larger boy looked quite familiar. He was, perhaps, a grade above her or something, but she could've sworn she'd seen him at school before. She couldn't quite place his name... after all, she hadn't exactly been a social butterfly at Hobbsborough. The other two boys, though, didn't look familiar in the slightest. She continued to study Garry Dodd, desperately trying to place a name to the face she could've sworn she recognized. It seemed to be in vain, but for the moment, it didn't matter. All that mattered was that the situation seemed to have calmed down dramatically, and now, for the moment, she could relax.
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Blake muttered and stumbled, trying desperately to pay attention to the conversation at hand, but losing focus to the aching pain in his arm and debilitating fatigue. He heard a few comments tossed back and forth as the lot of them seemed to be at some sort of a stand-off momentarily.
After some moments of awkwardness, it seemed everybody seemed to be okay with one another. Blake wasn't exactly comfortable, given the circumstances, around this many people, but he was too weak to feel as paranoid as he had thus far. He managed to gurgle out a few words before collapsing back down to his prone position on the floor.
"I think that my shoulder is dislocated..."
Blake looked around as he gripped the lower part of his arm, wondering how bad it would hurt to pop it back in, as he'd seen done before. He knew he would have to do it soon, but for now he preferred to just sit down and rest while he sized up these new people.
Blake wasn't one to judge, under normal circumstances, but both of the two newest interlopers seemed like they could hold themselves in a fight. They both looked like they could take the wiry untrained Blake, but right now none of them were looking for a fight. He couldn't make out much of their features in his condition, but one of them seemed to tower over the other, while the girl stood by, politicking as it would seem.
The conversation consisted of too many garbled phrases to interest him, and he began toying with his arm again. In his half-conscious delirium, he thought it would be a good idea to get one of these people to pop his arm back in place. He was getting accustomed to the pain anyway, how much worse could it get? His half-thoughts wrestled control over normal reason as he called out to the two boys and the girl.
"If you three are all done," Blake chuckled; he was really, very tired. "I could use a hand here."
Blake gestured to his limp and oddly angled arm.
"Just pop 'er back in, if you know how," Blake's eyes were closed as he spoke. "I'll be around for the smur..."
Blake's words wandered off into incoherency, as he past out once again. He probably should've eaten, or slept in the past three days.
After some moments of awkwardness, it seemed everybody seemed to be okay with one another. Blake wasn't exactly comfortable, given the circumstances, around this many people, but he was too weak to feel as paranoid as he had thus far. He managed to gurgle out a few words before collapsing back down to his prone position on the floor.
"I think that my shoulder is dislocated..."
Blake looked around as he gripped the lower part of his arm, wondering how bad it would hurt to pop it back in, as he'd seen done before. He knew he would have to do it soon, but for now he preferred to just sit down and rest while he sized up these new people.
Blake wasn't one to judge, under normal circumstances, but both of the two newest interlopers seemed like they could hold themselves in a fight. They both looked like they could take the wiry untrained Blake, but right now none of them were looking for a fight. He couldn't make out much of their features in his condition, but one of them seemed to tower over the other, while the girl stood by, politicking as it would seem.
The conversation consisted of too many garbled phrases to interest him, and he began toying with his arm again. In his half-conscious delirium, he thought it would be a good idea to get one of these people to pop his arm back in place. He was getting accustomed to the pain anyway, how much worse could it get? His half-thoughts wrestled control over normal reason as he called out to the two boys and the girl.
"If you three are all done," Blake chuckled; he was really, very tired. "I could use a hand here."
Blake gestured to his limp and oddly angled arm.
"Just pop 'er back in, if you know how," Blake's eyes were closed as he spoke. "I'll be around for the smur..."
Blake's words wandered off into incoherency, as he past out once again. He probably should've eaten, or slept in the past three days.
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Endless_Helix†
- Posts: 92
- Joined: Mon Sep 24, 2018 3:54 am
Harry watched the shorter of the other boys fall to the ground. He'd been prodding his shoulder just before he collapsed, which was somewhat confusing. Harry hadn't caught a single word of the boy's mumbling, so he didn't know the cause. As most humans would be, he was concerned about the guy. The girl he was with seemed nice but clueless. In all honesty, she looked like a pampered-little-princess type. Harry didn't really have time to look beyond the exterior. In his mind, all three of the other people in the room were his allies. He was known for his snap decisions, and how often they blew up in his face.
"Uh, what's wrong with that dude over there? Is he sick or something?" Harry's mouth formed in a concerned frown. Was there someone else in the room with a silenced weapon? Or a slow acting poison in the food? Was the kid simply so tired that he couldn't stand any more?
Actually, come to think about it, Harry wasn't sure how he was standing after three days without sleep. It must have been a combination of terror and adrenaline. He'd also had a chance to bolt down some of the shitbread they packed for the students. Mr. Constantine walked over to the fallen kid and checked his pulse. The kid was still amongst the living, but he'd just passed out Harry'd seen similar things when the other students had over exterted themselves during weight training. Actually, Harry'd done the same thing a couple of times. However the kid's arm was out of joint. Specifically his humerus had popped out of the cradle it normally resided in. It was a lucky thing for Harry that the injured boy on the ground wasn't awake at this point. His poking and prodding probably wouldn't feel to good.
"Does anyone here know how to pop a shoulder back into place? I think this kid needs some help."
"Uh, what's wrong with that dude over there? Is he sick or something?" Harry's mouth formed in a concerned frown. Was there someone else in the room with a silenced weapon? Or a slow acting poison in the food? Was the kid simply so tired that he couldn't stand any more?
Actually, come to think about it, Harry wasn't sure how he was standing after three days without sleep. It must have been a combination of terror and adrenaline. He'd also had a chance to bolt down some of the shitbread they packed for the students. Mr. Constantine walked over to the fallen kid and checked his pulse. The kid was still amongst the living, but he'd just passed out Harry'd seen similar things when the other students had over exterted themselves during weight training. Actually, Harry'd done the same thing a couple of times. However the kid's arm was out of joint. Specifically his humerus had popped out of the cradle it normally resided in. It was a lucky thing for Harry that the injured boy on the ground wasn't awake at this point. His poking and prodding probably wouldn't feel to good.
"Does anyone here know how to pop a shoulder back into place? I think this kid needs some help."
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AtomicWaffle†
- Posts: 230
- Joined: Sun Jan 27, 2019 6:55 am
Just...'Pop' it back in?
We could leave him like this...Keep him weakened.
Garry was contemplating what to do. If he wanted to keep their trust, he had to stay friendly; At the same time he had to make sure he had the advantage should worse come to worse. Everything had to be
perfectly controlled, should he have to survive. Keeping low-key is the most valuable asset to Garry's survival. However he had to get rested and ready to move, and these idiots were watching him. Dispose of them slowly and quietly. Nobody will ever notice.
Garry looked back at the smaller boy on the ground. It has to look like it was more than a dislocated shoulder. All he has to do is to jerk the boy's arm slightly upwards, and it would never heal as long as he was on the island.
Ugh...The upper limbs were never my strong point, were they?
Scars on the underside of his arm itched, long since they were caused.
~~~
Voices?
"What the hell happened?"
"I wish I knew! I just found him like this!
Medical staff surrounded Garry, blood soaking into his sheets. It looked like he had tried to kill himself.
Panic spread through the doctors. His vital signs were failing, and the wounds across his veins were extensive; Messily stabbed and slit by a sharp piece of broken glass.
"We're losing him!"
No!
Several excruciating hours later, Garry awoke, both of his arms restrained and bandaged.
"How are you feeling?" That woman was back again.
"Not you." Garry rolled his eyes. The woman ignored his comment.
"Quite a bit of a stint you pulled there, Garry. You almost died."
"That's the point."
"Why did you try and kill yourself, Garry?"
He shrugged. "I'm spent. I killed a man, and i'm not going to live with that. Even if he did deserve it. I don't deserve to live anymore" Garry seemed to stare at the wall, drifting off into thought. I killed him...
"You DO deserve a life. You did what you had to survive. That's all that matters. Survival is the most important thing, isn't it?"
~~~
I guess I could...Mess up? Or maybe that arm is more hurt than he thinks. Hahah...
"Sure, I guess I could pop it back into place. It's going to hurt like a bitch though."
Oh, it will.
We could leave him like this...Keep him weakened.
Garry was contemplating what to do. If he wanted to keep their trust, he had to stay friendly; At the same time he had to make sure he had the advantage should worse come to worse. Everything had to be
perfectly controlled, should he have to survive. Keeping low-key is the most valuable asset to Garry's survival. However he had to get rested and ready to move, and these idiots were watching him. Dispose of them slowly and quietly. Nobody will ever notice.
Garry looked back at the smaller boy on the ground. It has to look like it was more than a dislocated shoulder. All he has to do is to jerk the boy's arm slightly upwards, and it would never heal as long as he was on the island.
Ugh...The upper limbs were never my strong point, were they?
Scars on the underside of his arm itched, long since they were caused.
~~~
Voices?
"What the hell happened?"
"I wish I knew! I just found him like this!
Medical staff surrounded Garry, blood soaking into his sheets. It looked like he had tried to kill himself.
Panic spread through the doctors. His vital signs were failing, and the wounds across his veins were extensive; Messily stabbed and slit by a sharp piece of broken glass.
"We're losing him!"
No!
Several excruciating hours later, Garry awoke, both of his arms restrained and bandaged.
"How are you feeling?" That woman was back again.
"Not you." Garry rolled his eyes. The woman ignored his comment.
"Quite a bit of a stint you pulled there, Garry. You almost died."
"That's the point."
"Why did you try and kill yourself, Garry?"
He shrugged. "I'm spent. I killed a man, and i'm not going to live with that. Even if he did deserve it. I don't deserve to live anymore" Garry seemed to stare at the wall, drifting off into thought. I killed him...
"You DO deserve a life. You did what you had to survive. That's all that matters. Survival is the most important thing, isn't it?"
~~~
I guess I could...Mess up? Or maybe that arm is more hurt than he thinks. Hahah...
"Sure, I guess I could pop it back into place. It's going to hurt like a bitch though."
Oh, it will.
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the former handler AtomicWaffle.
((Sorry guys, I'm really not ignoring this.))
Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of Blake's voice, prodding as to whether or not the three were done with their conversation and if they were going to help him. His shoulder was dislocated and needed to be popped back into place. She didn't know personally, but she had heard that popping a dislocated appendage back in was both difficult to do properly and extremely painful for the victim. It wasn't something she felt she had the know-how or strength to even attempt.
The shorter boy who had followed Garry in, she didn't know his name, also made the inquiry as to whether or not she or Garry had any idea how to fix Blake's shoulder. She simply shook her head lightly, and it was instead Garry who responded.
"Really?" Maggie inquired, "You'll help him?"
I sure hope he knows what he's doing.
She couldn't help but let the thought run through her head. Sure, in some sick way everyone standing in the room alongside her was "competition", but Maggie couldn't think of them like that. She couldn't get past the fact that another human being was absolutely writhing in pain in front of her, and she felt quite powerless to help. She didn't know Garry personally, or anyone else in the room, for that matter. Part of her didn't know whether they could be trusted, but nobody here wanted to fight. That's what they had all said, hadn't they?
Nobody here wants trouble, and so we have to trust one another. It's hard... especially under the circumstances... but there isn't such a thing as a "bad" person. Just good people who make bad decisions. I don't know these guys, I don't even know their names, but even if they've killed, even if they've made bad decisions, they're still good people, in the end. Everybody has the capacity for evil... but everyone here... they don't want to hurt anybody.
They were all allies here, they were all friends. It's so hard to trust in a game like this, but here they were, four people who didn't even know one another, coexisting together and trying to help out an injured friend. Somehow, that restored Maggie's faith in humanity. This game was definitely a curveball for her. She'd never have imagined people she knew and cared about maliciously taking the lives of her friends and classmates. Still, being here with these people, knowing they were going to take care of one another... every cloud has a silver lining, they say, and perhaps this was it.
"Oh... I really hope you can help him. He looks like he's in so much pain."
Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of Blake's voice, prodding as to whether or not the three were done with their conversation and if they were going to help him. His shoulder was dislocated and needed to be popped back into place. She didn't know personally, but she had heard that popping a dislocated appendage back in was both difficult to do properly and extremely painful for the victim. It wasn't something she felt she had the know-how or strength to even attempt.
The shorter boy who had followed Garry in, she didn't know his name, also made the inquiry as to whether or not she or Garry had any idea how to fix Blake's shoulder. She simply shook her head lightly, and it was instead Garry who responded.
"Really?" Maggie inquired, "You'll help him?"
I sure hope he knows what he's doing.
She couldn't help but let the thought run through her head. Sure, in some sick way everyone standing in the room alongside her was "competition", but Maggie couldn't think of them like that. She couldn't get past the fact that another human being was absolutely writhing in pain in front of her, and she felt quite powerless to help. She didn't know Garry personally, or anyone else in the room, for that matter. Part of her didn't know whether they could be trusted, but nobody here wanted to fight. That's what they had all said, hadn't they?
Nobody here wants trouble, and so we have to trust one another. It's hard... especially under the circumstances... but there isn't such a thing as a "bad" person. Just good people who make bad decisions. I don't know these guys, I don't even know their names, but even if they've killed, even if they've made bad decisions, they're still good people, in the end. Everybody has the capacity for evil... but everyone here... they don't want to hurt anybody.
They were all allies here, they were all friends. It's so hard to trust in a game like this, but here they were, four people who didn't even know one another, coexisting together and trying to help out an injured friend. Somehow, that restored Maggie's faith in humanity. This game was definitely a curveball for her. She'd never have imagined people she knew and cared about maliciously taking the lives of her friends and classmates. Still, being here with these people, knowing they were going to take care of one another... every cloud has a silver lining, they say, and perhaps this was it.
"Oh... I really hope you can help him. He looks like he's in so much pain."
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Megami. 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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Endless_Helix†
- Posts: 92
- Joined: Mon Sep 24, 2018 3:54 am
"Well, right now, he's in La-la land; I doubt he can feel too much. Incidently, my name's Harry, nice to meet you," Harry gave a tired half-smile, and extended a hand to the girl; she was closer. He had other worries than whether or not the girl knew his name. In fact, Harry was a little leery of the big guy. Something about his long pause was slightly omiinous. Was he going to actually 'help' the kid on the ground? Or was he going to fuck up the arm?
Harry knew the theory of how to pop an arm in place, it was a common injury during mixed martial arts competitions; he'd never actually tried it himself. He'd always let the medical teams do it. He'd watched a couple of times, but that was no substitute for actual training. Watching a martial artist a couple times didn't make you a master.
It all came down to the fact that Harry didn't know jack shit about the largest of the two other boys. He did offer to help, but it didn't seem to come from the heart. This was a bit alient to Harry, who wore his heart on his sleeve. The big guy was all withdrawn, and somewhat introverted to begin with, most likely. The bloodstains on the clothes were pretty aparent. Harry was hardly unstained (pun intended), but it was a little creepy to have a big guy, covered in sanguine fluid, offering to help a guy passed out on the ground.
The girl seemed nice enough. She had honest worry in her eyes; that alone made Harry trust her, and consider her an ally. She seemed to be a straight arrow, trying to cling to her morals depite the situation they were in. Harry could relate to the problem. If anything, the fate of Mary-Anne increased his resolve to escape the island. He wanted to apologize to her parents, to tell them that he was sorry for their loss and that everything was his fault. He was too weak to save her from himself. That was what tore him up.
But all the angsting in the world wouldn't help in the current situation. Harry needed to focus on reality and get himself and his friends, if they were here, back home.
Harry knew the theory of how to pop an arm in place, it was a common injury during mixed martial arts competitions; he'd never actually tried it himself. He'd always let the medical teams do it. He'd watched a couple of times, but that was no substitute for actual training. Watching a martial artist a couple times didn't make you a master.
It all came down to the fact that Harry didn't know jack shit about the largest of the two other boys. He did offer to help, but it didn't seem to come from the heart. This was a bit alient to Harry, who wore his heart on his sleeve. The big guy was all withdrawn, and somewhat introverted to begin with, most likely. The bloodstains on the clothes were pretty aparent. Harry was hardly unstained (pun intended), but it was a little creepy to have a big guy, covered in sanguine fluid, offering to help a guy passed out on the ground.
The girl seemed nice enough. She had honest worry in her eyes; that alone made Harry trust her, and consider her an ally. She seemed to be a straight arrow, trying to cling to her morals depite the situation they were in. Harry could relate to the problem. If anything, the fate of Mary-Anne increased his resolve to escape the island. He wanted to apologize to her parents, to tell them that he was sorry for their loss and that everything was his fault. He was too weak to save her from himself. That was what tore him up.
But all the angsting in the world wouldn't help in the current situation. Harry needed to focus on reality and get himself and his friends, if they were here, back home.
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Endless_Helix. 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.