((Ron Kiser continued from Why not me?))
Ron didn’t stop running for a while. Not until the adrenaline rush wore off and it became unbearably painful to keep running. He figured It was his body’s way of telling him to treat his wounds before he fucking died. He sat down in the woods and went through the whole process. He washed the wounds, put disinfectant on them as he tried his hardest not to scream his head off, and wrapped them up in bandages. One around his stomach, one around his left forearm. His blue button-up shirt was torn and covered in blood, so he replaced it with his red polo shirt. That would do better with the blood, anyway. The pants were a little stained as well, but he decided to live with it. It’d probably be better to have some reminders of his attack on him. Some of the less murder-happy people might see the bandage and the blood stains and feel sympathetic towards him. Probably wouldn’t do much, but it was worth a shot, anyway. He wasn’t wearing that shirt, though, that’d be too much. He hadn’t completely abandoned his sense of decorum. He considered just throwing it away, but he remembered he didn’t have any other extra shirts aside from the polo, and throwing away clothes the minute they got messed up was not a sustainable practice out here. So, he stuffed it back into his bag.
At that point Ron took out the map and compass and tried to find where he was. The temple was on the south side of the island, and he couldn’t have gone too far away from it. Wait, could he? How long was he running? How big was this island? It was hard to tell. He looked around and spotted some buildings on the north horizon. Ron deduced that it was likely the “menagerie” detailed on the map. “Menagerie”, wasn’t that like a zoo in a castle? Weird. He considered just sticking to the wilderness, that might be the best place to hide, avoid people who might be out to chop him up like Layla or that black-haired girl. But he realized the menagerie might have useful supplies or useful allies. The fire extinguisher had served surprisingly well so far at protecting Ron from harm, but he still needed something better if he wanted to last. Hiding would only be a temporary strategy; if he just hid in the woods the whole game, eventually he’d be found by some kids who’d spent that time amassing an armory. So Ron crept towards the menagerie, making sure to keep quiet and always have some cover. Even at a slow pace, walking was still pretty damn painful. He wouldn’t be able to break into a run again any time soon, but he could manage a steady hike through the forest.
Ron stealthily approached the collection of buildings. After looking both ways to make sure the coast was clear, he entered the one nearest to him. He found himself in some empty, decrepit stable. He’d been in stables before, of course, at the country club, though this one was obviously in much worse condition. Much emptier, too, as there were no horses in sight. Whatever. Ron had never liked horses, anyway.
He didn’t know what he might find in here aside from some hay, but it couldn’t hurt to quickly search the place. He walked along the row of stalls, opening each of them and peeking inside.
Gotta Fake it 'till You Make It
Open
((Paloma screamed))
The stables were absolutely disgusting, which was the point. Paloma wasn't so prissy that she wouldn't put up with rotten hay and shit (as in, probable literal feces) if it meant nobody would come bother her. That was her current plan. Avoid anyone, period, no matter who. She had her friends, of course, but if she was going to live, they had to die. And she hated that, but she couldn't do anything about it. So she'd leave them to their own fates. That was the most mercy she could offer.
It didn't feel like much. But it was something.
After drinking some of her water and eating one of her many food bars, Paloma had opted to rest while she could. She'd wrapped her now-unworn skirt over her bag-it was covered in mud and leaves already-and used it as a pillow as she's tried to nap in the corner of one of the stalls. She'd gotten used to the smell, so long as she didn't think about it, and she had other things to think about. Not that they were much better; she didn't want to think about Abel, or the water his body was submerged in, or any of that.
For a sort of blessing, Paloma was exhausted both physically and mentally. Wandering around an island for what was probably a few hours would do that for you, especially in this heat. She'd dozed off within a couple of minutes, probably. For how long, it was hard to say. She was a light sleeper; that was apparently the case even with sedatives, given how quick her awakening had been.
And it was the case when the door of the stall swung open, the ancient hinge squealing almost as loudly as she had. Paloma sat up, hands grasping for her weapon. It took her a second for her eyes to adjust, and she identified her potential attacker only after her hands found the-her bat and held it out in front of her like a sword.
What she knew of Ron Kiser; he was kind of a smug prick. He picked on kids to avoid getting picked on. He did sports or something? Was he a murderer? No, stupid question, anyone could be. Just look-he was as much a threat as anyone could be until proven otherwise, and she was not about to open her trust to...probably anyone. He was carrying a fire extinguisher, though, which admittedly made this encounter a lot less intimidating. As if he was rescuing her from a burning building. They weren't supposed to burn anything down, were they?
Paloma jumped to her feet, bat clutched in front of her like a lightsaber, trying to keep distance between him. An extinguisher wasn't the most convenient bludgeon, but if he sprayed her, she'd be screwed. "Go away." If he wasn't dangerous, he'd listen. If he was, he'd stay, and she'd have to fight. She'd rather not, but she would if she needed to. She had to make sure he knew it.
"I know how to use this!" Not the most convincing argument, but maybe she'd get points for...something. This was somehow absurd, almost comedic, and terrifying. She wanted to laugh. Or scream again. Probably both.
The stables were absolutely disgusting, which was the point. Paloma wasn't so prissy that she wouldn't put up with rotten hay and shit (as in, probable literal feces) if it meant nobody would come bother her. That was her current plan. Avoid anyone, period, no matter who. She had her friends, of course, but if she was going to live, they had to die. And she hated that, but she couldn't do anything about it. So she'd leave them to their own fates. That was the most mercy she could offer.
It didn't feel like much. But it was something.
After drinking some of her water and eating one of her many food bars, Paloma had opted to rest while she could. She'd wrapped her now-unworn skirt over her bag-it was covered in mud and leaves already-and used it as a pillow as she's tried to nap in the corner of one of the stalls. She'd gotten used to the smell, so long as she didn't think about it, and she had other things to think about. Not that they were much better; she didn't want to think about Abel, or the water his body was submerged in, or any of that.
For a sort of blessing, Paloma was exhausted both physically and mentally. Wandering around an island for what was probably a few hours would do that for you, especially in this heat. She'd dozed off within a couple of minutes, probably. For how long, it was hard to say. She was a light sleeper; that was apparently the case even with sedatives, given how quick her awakening had been.
And it was the case when the door of the stall swung open, the ancient hinge squealing almost as loudly as she had. Paloma sat up, hands grasping for her weapon. It took her a second for her eyes to adjust, and she identified her potential attacker only after her hands found the-her bat and held it out in front of her like a sword.
What she knew of Ron Kiser; he was kind of a smug prick. He picked on kids to avoid getting picked on. He did sports or something? Was he a murderer? No, stupid question, anyone could be. Just look-he was as much a threat as anyone could be until proven otherwise, and she was not about to open her trust to...probably anyone. He was carrying a fire extinguisher, though, which admittedly made this encounter a lot less intimidating. As if he was rescuing her from a burning building. They weren't supposed to burn anything down, were they?
Paloma jumped to her feet, bat clutched in front of her like a lightsaber, trying to keep distance between him. An extinguisher wasn't the most convenient bludgeon, but if he sprayed her, she'd be screwed. "Go away." If he wasn't dangerous, he'd listen. If he was, he'd stay, and she'd have to fight. She'd rather not, but she would if she needed to. She had to make sure he knew it.
"I know how to use this!" Not the most convincing argument, but maybe she'd get points for...something. This was somehow absurd, almost comedic, and terrifying. She wanted to laugh. Or scream again. Probably both.
Ron fell into a dull rhythem as he looked through the stalls. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Noth- oh hey, what the fuck!?
Ron jumped back at the site of the red-haired girl with a bat. He knew her, she was Paloma Salt. One of those artist types. Pretty cute. He'd heard she could be bitchy. but he'd had yet to experience that himself. She was apparently sleeping when he came in, and she was not happy that he'd woken her up. They were only a few hours in, how the hell was she sleeping already, with only a bat to defend her? Weird.
As she threatened him with the bat, Ron couldn't help but be a little amused. Did she really think a girl of her size armed only with a bat could do anything to an athletic guy like him? It was laughable. It was ridiculous. But he couldn't help but think back to Layla swinging her knife at him, and he felt a twinge in his chest that told him to run out of there, damn the pain.
Oh come on, this was stupid. He wasn't a coward. Paloma didn't intimidate him.
Ron considered his options. He could just leave her and go about his day. But... he couldn't just keep running, right? If he ran away from everyone who was a little on edge, he'd always be alone. And there was safety in numbers in this game. It was just like back in school; He could try to sneak around on his own and hope nobody noticed him, but that would make him an easy target when someone did take notice. If he had allies who were willing to defend him, that would make him more powerful. People like Layla wouldn't dare to mess with him if he had a group.
She hadn't attacked him right away, so that made her a better ally candidate than anyone else he'd run into so far. She would also be a good person to practice his recruiting skills on, since even if he just made her more angry she still wouldn't be a threat to him.
Time for the charm offensive, Ron.
"H-hey, I don't doubt that." Ron gave the girl a warm smile. "But you don't need to worry. I'm, uh, I'm just trying to find a place to rest for a little bit."
Ron jumped back at the site of the red-haired girl with a bat. He knew her, she was Paloma Salt. One of those artist types. Pretty cute. He'd heard she could be bitchy. but he'd had yet to experience that himself. She was apparently sleeping when he came in, and she was not happy that he'd woken her up. They were only a few hours in, how the hell was she sleeping already, with only a bat to defend her? Weird.
As she threatened him with the bat, Ron couldn't help but be a little amused. Did she really think a girl of her size armed only with a bat could do anything to an athletic guy like him? It was laughable. It was ridiculous. But he couldn't help but think back to Layla swinging her knife at him, and he felt a twinge in his chest that told him to run out of there, damn the pain.
Oh come on, this was stupid. He wasn't a coward. Paloma didn't intimidate him.
Ron considered his options. He could just leave her and go about his day. But... he couldn't just keep running, right? If he ran away from everyone who was a little on edge, he'd always be alone. And there was safety in numbers in this game. It was just like back in school; He could try to sneak around on his own and hope nobody noticed him, but that would make him an easy target when someone did take notice. If he had allies who were willing to defend him, that would make him more powerful. People like Layla wouldn't dare to mess with him if he had a group.
She hadn't attacked him right away, so that made her a better ally candidate than anyone else he'd run into so far. She would also be a good person to practice his recruiting skills on, since even if he just made her more angry she still wouldn't be a threat to him.
Time for the charm offensive, Ron.
"H-hey, I don't doubt that." Ron gave the girl a warm smile. "But you don't need to worry. I'm, uh, I'm just trying to find a place to rest for a little bit."
Paloma frowned.
He was being friendly. That was, well, she hadn't entirely expected that. She'd expected him to either leave or fight. Maybe she was overestimating how much people were-well, no, that was a good thing. Better to be cautious, right? She didn't lower her weapon.
With the doors all open she could she that it wasn't really late in the day. Paloma wasn't really tired now; maybe she could afford to stay awake for a bit. Was she willing to have him around for that time? It would be safer to have an extra pair of eyes. Just for a bit. Then they could go their separate ways and one of them could leave.
Besides, nobody was going to know about Abel and her until tomorrow. Even if they found his-the body, they wouldn't know. She could take the time now. Maybe if someone liked her, trusted her a little, they'd be willing to let her explain, that it wasn't her fault. This could be okay. Or it could end badly, but, did she have a choice? She could try to push him out, but maybe this would be easier.
Paloma grimaced. "...Fine. You can sit...somewhere. If you want." Paloma glanced around the room. There wasn't much in the way of sitting, but it was his choice to hang out in here, and he could just live with it.
He was being friendly. That was, well, she hadn't entirely expected that. She'd expected him to either leave or fight. Maybe she was overestimating how much people were-well, no, that was a good thing. Better to be cautious, right? She didn't lower her weapon.
With the doors all open she could she that it wasn't really late in the day. Paloma wasn't really tired now; maybe she could afford to stay awake for a bit. Was she willing to have him around for that time? It would be safer to have an extra pair of eyes. Just for a bit. Then they could go their separate ways and one of them could leave.
Besides, nobody was going to know about Abel and her until tomorrow. Even if they found his-the body, they wouldn't know. She could take the time now. Maybe if someone liked her, trusted her a little, they'd be willing to let her explain, that it wasn't her fault. This could be okay. Or it could end badly, but, did she have a choice? She could try to push him out, but maybe this would be easier.
Paloma grimaced. "...Fine. You can sit...somewhere. If you want." Paloma glanced around the room. There wasn't much in the way of sitting, but it was his choice to hang out in here, and he could just live with it.
[[Layla continued from Why not me?]]
While running after Ron, Layla decided that he was the one. The one and only. She did not need more than one. Plus, she had already started it, he was hurt, so why not finish it? His wound looked like it hurt like hell. It might get infected. She could help.
Layla followed him. She was not a runner, but she did not carry a fire extinguisher either. She kept a healthy distance, still could observe him. She had hoped that he would get exhausted from running and from bleeding. It looked like he was entering a stable. He would get the temptation to rest. If he was weak, exhausted or sleeping, all she had to do was to mentally prepare herself to repeat the slash she had done to Ron, but with this time it would not be accidental. It would be easy, killing someone wounded and helpless. She could be Macbeth stabbing Duncan.
She looked at the bloodied swordbreaker. Ron Kiser. Make him disappear. Then vanish herself. The island was big, she could hide anywhere. The others will kill off each other eventually. They always do on SOTF. She did not want to be in a big group, did not want to risk getting stabbed in the back while she is sleeping. Violet did not kill her in the Hotel when she slept, but she could in here. Layla remembered the video of the best friends in the room with Danya.
She did not mind being alone. She could hide, she could be invisible. But before she could focus on that, Macbeth had to kill Duncan. She slowly walked towards the entrance of the stable, lurking with her swordbreaker.
While running after Ron, Layla decided that he was the one. The one and only. She did not need more than one. Plus, she had already started it, he was hurt, so why not finish it? His wound looked like it hurt like hell. It might get infected. She could help.
Layla followed him. She was not a runner, but she did not carry a fire extinguisher either. She kept a healthy distance, still could observe him. She had hoped that he would get exhausted from running and from bleeding. It looked like he was entering a stable. He would get the temptation to rest. If he was weak, exhausted or sleeping, all she had to do was to mentally prepare herself to repeat the slash she had done to Ron, but with this time it would not be accidental. It would be easy, killing someone wounded and helpless. She could be Macbeth stabbing Duncan.
She looked at the bloodied swordbreaker. Ron Kiser. Make him disappear. Then vanish herself. The island was big, she could hide anywhere. The others will kill off each other eventually. They always do on SOTF. She did not want to be in a big group, did not want to risk getting stabbed in the back while she is sleeping. Violet did not kill her in the Hotel when she slept, but she could in here. Layla remembered the video of the best friends in the room with Danya.
She did not mind being alone. She could hide, she could be invisible. But before she could focus on that, Macbeth had to kill Duncan. She slowly walked towards the entrance of the stable, lurking with her swordbreaker.
Hell yeah! Persuasion check passed!... or, whatever. He'd managed to calm Paloma down a bit. Yeah, go him.
She suggested he sit down. Ron looked around the stables, and frowned. There rally wasn't any place to sit, aside from the dirty ground. He didn't want to sit there. But... well, he'd told her he needed to rest, and she'd believed him, so he had to follow through. He found a position along the wall and slowly lowered himself to the ground. He let out an involuntary groan as his stomach wound ached from the movement. He ended up sitting on the ground, back against the wall, legs stretched out in front, holding onto his wound, with the fire extinguisher to his side. It wasn't a comfortable position, and Ron shifted uneasily where he sat.
"So, uhhhh..." Ron started, not sure how he'd finish. "How are you? Are you alright?"
Ron scratched the back of his head. Maybe he should tell her about what had happened to him. It could gain him some sympathy, build a bond. It could also make him seem vulnerable. But she could already see the bandage on his arm, right? So that ship had sailed.
"I've, uh... I've already been attacked. Twice. It's, uh, it's crazy out here."
Damn it, he needed to stop saying "uh" so much. Keep eye contact, speak at a clear volume, avoid fillers words; he'd practiced this already! No one would join him if he looked like a freakin 'tard out here
She suggested he sit down. Ron looked around the stables, and frowned. There rally wasn't any place to sit, aside from the dirty ground. He didn't want to sit there. But... well, he'd told her he needed to rest, and she'd believed him, so he had to follow through. He found a position along the wall and slowly lowered himself to the ground. He let out an involuntary groan as his stomach wound ached from the movement. He ended up sitting on the ground, back against the wall, legs stretched out in front, holding onto his wound, with the fire extinguisher to his side. It wasn't a comfortable position, and Ron shifted uneasily where he sat.
"So, uhhhh..." Ron started, not sure how he'd finish. "How are you? Are you alright?"
Ron scratched the back of his head. Maybe he should tell her about what had happened to him. It could gain him some sympathy, build a bond. It could also make him seem vulnerable. But she could already see the bandage on his arm, right? So that ship had sailed.
"I've, uh... I've already been attacked. Twice. It's, uh, it's crazy out here."
Damn it, he needed to stop saying "uh" so much. Keep eye contact, speak at a clear volume, avoid fillers words; he'd practiced this already! No one would join him if he looked like a freakin 'tard out here
Oh, she hadn't expected this, either. God, Paloma was just not on the ball today, was she? She'd expected silence, not...friendliness. Why would he bother? He'd gotten what he was apparently here for. Did he not know what the situation was? Well no, looking at him, she knew it wasn't that.
Leaning herself against the wall opposite him, Paloma observed Ron's clear pain and discomfort warily. He had a cut, too, a visible one. He didn't look great, honestly. She held the bat on her lap, pulled her knees up to her chest, and wrapped her arms around her legs. He could easily have been attacked, sure, she knew that. But maybe he'd gotten hurt while attacking or killing someone else? It was possible. Then again, if he was out for blood, why would he be so casual and friendly to her? The more she looked the more Paloma was afraid she couldn't take him in a fight if she needed to. She didn't like that.
Paloma exhaled. "Well..." How to explain this. "I ran into some trouble, too. It's not great. I'm still alive though, so." She lowered her eyes to the floor. So far, that was a good start. As long as she wasn't dead or dying, she still had a shot. She just had to keep at it. If she was the last one left, they'd let her go home. They had no reason to lie about it, and they'd released the other 'winners'. It was just about getting there.
Leaning herself against the wall opposite him, Paloma observed Ron's clear pain and discomfort warily. He had a cut, too, a visible one. He didn't look great, honestly. She held the bat on her lap, pulled her knees up to her chest, and wrapped her arms around her legs. He could easily have been attacked, sure, she knew that. But maybe he'd gotten hurt while attacking or killing someone else? It was possible. Then again, if he was out for blood, why would he be so casual and friendly to her? The more she looked the more Paloma was afraid she couldn't take him in a fight if she needed to. She didn't like that.
Paloma exhaled. "Well..." How to explain this. "I ran into some trouble, too. It's not great. I'm still alive though, so." She lowered her eyes to the floor. So far, that was a good start. As long as she wasn't dead or dying, she still had a shot. She just had to keep at it. If she was the last one left, they'd let her go home. They had no reason to lie about it, and they'd released the other 'winners'. It was just about getting there.
A voice that was clearly not Ron's voice came out of the stable. Layla quickly had to decide whether to abandon her plan or not. Who knew what the other figure was armed with? She could not kill Ron if there was another person in there. If she decided to run in and attack Ron, she might have to defend herself from the other person as well. But she really does not need to kill two people. It could go bad very fast.
But she could not leave either. She had followed Ron since she woke up, she had invested her time tracking him down and this was her opportunity. Ron was wounded, weak and unarmed. Most of her classmates are not in that state and she was pretty sure if she decided to find someone else to target, she could end up dead quickly. The thought of going around searching for someone and instantly getting killed by a gunshot gave her goosebumps.
With her swordbreaker in hand Layla continued waiting at the entrance, listening to the conversation.
But she could not leave either. She had followed Ron since she woke up, she had invested her time tracking him down and this was her opportunity. Ron was wounded, weak and unarmed. Most of her classmates are not in that state and she was pretty sure if she decided to find someone else to target, she could end up dead quickly. The thought of going around searching for someone and instantly getting killed by a gunshot gave her goosebumps.
With her swordbreaker in hand Layla continued waiting at the entrance, listening to the conversation.
(Kayla Harris continued from dear army guys come quik there are terrorists)
Nona’s trail had gone cold after clearing the treeline. Try as she might, Kayla had no earthly way of tracking her down. And honestly, that was fine with her. She wanted to know the island, to scout it out and get a feel for its environment and history. And she couldn’t do that while also playing babysitter.
It was in this particular mindset that she stumbled upon the stables. Based on what she’d gleaned from the map, this island must have been some Doctor Dolittle shit back in the day, like someone’s private zoo. Crazy. Would have been neat to have seen it in its heyday.
She couldn’t see inside the stable as she approached, since her attention was focused on the girl with the knife outside. Layla DeBerg...she’d chatted with her once or twice, and she seemed harmless enough. But that was a friggin’ weird knife, like someone had bitten a piece out of it. Was that on purpose or just some freaky accident?
A knife was a knife, though, so she slowly slipped her folding chair out of its loops, dangling it by one leg. Better safe than dead.
“Something catch your eye, Layla?” she asked, stopping ten feet away. This habit of giving people due warning was going to get her killed one of these days, but the alternative was startling someone with a deadly weapon. Not a desirable experience.
Nona’s trail had gone cold after clearing the treeline. Try as she might, Kayla had no earthly way of tracking her down. And honestly, that was fine with her. She wanted to know the island, to scout it out and get a feel for its environment and history. And she couldn’t do that while also playing babysitter.
It was in this particular mindset that she stumbled upon the stables. Based on what she’d gleaned from the map, this island must have been some Doctor Dolittle shit back in the day, like someone’s private zoo. Crazy. Would have been neat to have seen it in its heyday.
She couldn’t see inside the stable as she approached, since her attention was focused on the girl with the knife outside. Layla DeBerg...she’d chatted with her once or twice, and she seemed harmless enough. But that was a friggin’ weird knife, like someone had bitten a piece out of it. Was that on purpose or just some freaky accident?
A knife was a knife, though, so she slowly slipped her folding chair out of its loops, dangling it by one leg. Better safe than dead.
“Something catch your eye, Layla?” she asked, stopping ten feet away. This habit of giving people due warning was going to get her killed one of these days, but the alternative was startling someone with a deadly weapon. Not a desirable experience.
"Yeah." Ron said, firmly. "We're still alive."
Alright, she sat down and she was opening up a little. He guessed he was still doing pretty well.
Where should he go next? He really wanted to ask Paloma what had happened, who had attacked her. Any information would be valuable out here, probably. It was plain as day that she didn't want to go into it, though, and Ron knew better than to pry. He guessed he had to just... lean into the moment. Or something.
"That's the important thing, right? Staying alive, ah, as long as we can. There's not much else we can do."
Ron chewed on his lip as he thought it through. He should probably try to figure out what her... philosophy towards the game was. That would help him decide if she'd be good to stick around, and it'd let him know how best to appeal to her.
"I mean, I don't want to go around killing people, but I'm also not just going to lay down and and die. I don't want to go down without a fight. You- you know what I mean?"
That seemed like an inoffensive stance. Hopefully the conversation would elicit her to talk about what she was planning to do. In reality, Ron wasn't sure how he felt about killing his classmates. The though of him killing people still seemed so ridiculous that he couldn't take it seriously. However, he was aware that he would have to kill at least one person for the terrorists to let him go. He'd probably have to kill more than that if he wanted to make it to the end. It was a hard thing to accept. The morality of it wasn't a consideration - if everyone but one person were going to die anyway, what did it matter how many he killed personally? - but the idea of actually doing it just seemed so... distant.
He'd have to get over that at some point.
Alright, she sat down and she was opening up a little. He guessed he was still doing pretty well.
Where should he go next? He really wanted to ask Paloma what had happened, who had attacked her. Any information would be valuable out here, probably. It was plain as day that she didn't want to go into it, though, and Ron knew better than to pry. He guessed he had to just... lean into the moment. Or something.
"That's the important thing, right? Staying alive, ah, as long as we can. There's not much else we can do."
Ron chewed on his lip as he thought it through. He should probably try to figure out what her... philosophy towards the game was. That would help him decide if she'd be good to stick around, and it'd let him know how best to appeal to her.
"I mean, I don't want to go around killing people, but I'm also not just going to lay down and and die. I don't want to go down without a fight. You- you know what I mean?"
That seemed like an inoffensive stance. Hopefully the conversation would elicit her to talk about what she was planning to do. In reality, Ron wasn't sure how he felt about killing his classmates. The though of him killing people still seemed so ridiculous that he couldn't take it seriously. However, he was aware that he would have to kill at least one person for the terrorists to let him go. He'd probably have to kill more than that if he wanted to make it to the end. It was a hard thing to accept. The morality of it wasn't a consideration - if everyone but one person were going to die anyway, what did it matter how many he killed personally? - but the idea of actually doing it just seemed so... distant.
He'd have to get over that at some point.
Killing people. Nobody wanted it. Well, nobody normal. Sane. Whatever. Paloma hadn't wanted it. It wasn't her fault, it wasn't, but she'd had no choice and nobody else did either. She just had to...
"I agree." Paloma said softly. "I want to live. All of us do. But..." At least one of the people in the stable would be dead by the end of this. "We just...gotta do what we can, yeah."
She went quiet. What did she have to do? She'd had one bad run-in and a couple of less bad ones, but this wouldn't last. Paloma wasn't stupid. She knew that the people had killed each other last time, every other time. Eventually, people would do it. Maybe not today, but eventually. George Hunter was a high school, and it was full of emotional, irrational, hormone-addled teenagers.
Paloma sat up suddenly, alerted. There was a voice outside. She couldn't make out what was said, but someone had said something. "Someone's here." She whispered to Ron. She maybe didn't need to do that. If something happened, someone came in, it would be every man for themselves. But...if they needed to defend themselves, maybe he'd help. Spray them with the extinguisher, run, or-
Paloma stood, shakily, hay sticking to her bare legs unpleasantly. She turned towards the door of the stables, clutching the bat as best she could, readying for...something. Anything could happen.
"I agree." Paloma said softly. "I want to live. All of us do. But..." At least one of the people in the stable would be dead by the end of this. "We just...gotta do what we can, yeah."
She went quiet. What did she have to do? She'd had one bad run-in and a couple of less bad ones, but this wouldn't last. Paloma wasn't stupid. She knew that the people had killed each other last time, every other time. Eventually, people would do it. Maybe not today, but eventually. George Hunter was a high school, and it was full of emotional, irrational, hormone-addled teenagers.
Paloma sat up suddenly, alerted. There was a voice outside. She couldn't make out what was said, but someone had said something. "Someone's here." She whispered to Ron. She maybe didn't need to do that. If something happened, someone came in, it would be every man for themselves. But...if they needed to defend themselves, maybe he'd help. Spray them with the extinguisher, run, or-
Paloma stood, shakily, hay sticking to her bare legs unpleasantly. She turned towards the door of the stables, clutching the bat as best she could, readying for...something. Anything could happen.
Layla shrieked after being surprised by Kayla.
"Hey, hey, Kayla. Surprised me there."
Layla looked at Kayla, scared, but tried to put on a friendly smile. Then, she stepped towards the entrance of the stables so she could look inside and see Ron. He also could see her and her bloodied swordbreaker.
"Hey, Ron, I-I just came here to apologise to you for what happened earlier a-and came to help you with the first-aid. The-the wound looked pretty bad."
There was another girl inside the stable, it was Paloma. Layla began panting.
"You-you ran away pretty fast and I-I am pretty out of breath."
"Hey, hey, Kayla. Surprised me there."
Layla looked at Kayla, scared, but tried to put on a friendly smile. Then, she stepped towards the entrance of the stables so she could look inside and see Ron. He also could see her and her bloodied swordbreaker.
"Hey, Ron, I-I just came here to apologise to you for what happened earlier a-and came to help you with the first-aid. The-the wound looked pretty bad."
There was another girl inside the stable, it was Paloma. Layla began panting.
"You-you ran away pretty fast and I-I am pretty out of breath."
"'Hey' right back to you," Kayla replied to Layla with a cheery wave. "Sorry about the scare."
The knife-wielding girl hadn't attacked her, which she took as a good sign. Maybe folks were actually taking the higher ground and defying the game, putting their lives in each other's hands to show that no matter what, nothing could break them. That sure would be...hold on, who was Ron?
Stepping over so she could get a look over Layla's shoulder, Kayla realized that Layla had been spying on a couple of kids from school. The girl was...something with a P, and Kayla assumed that the guy was Ron. Seemed like a safe bet.
Layla seemed apologetic about something, volunteering to provide first aid for some wound or other, possibly that bandaged-up jobbie on his arm. And it just occurred to Kayla that there seemed to be some blood on Layla's freaky knife as well. Blood that she hadn't bothered to clean off...or seemed to be nervous about showing off in front of others.
Yeaaaaaahhhhh...perhaps things were not as cool as she'd thought.
Kayla shook her head to banish these thoughts. It was way too early to be jumping to conclusions. After all, it could have been an accident. Layla could have slipped and nicked "Ron"'s arm and he could have misunderstood her intentions and run for his life. And then she could have felt so bad about it that she chased him across the island without having the time to clean her knife off. After all, if she'd actually meant him harm, she wouldn't be casually leaning in and making small talk...right?
"Hey," Kayla said from behind Layla, still maintaining her distance in case things began to get ugly, "is everything okay?" There was no point in making suppositions until she knew the facts. Once everyone got their information out in the open, the tension in the air would dissipate at once.
Maybe.
The knife-wielding girl hadn't attacked her, which she took as a good sign. Maybe folks were actually taking the higher ground and defying the game, putting their lives in each other's hands to show that no matter what, nothing could break them. That sure would be...hold on, who was Ron?
Stepping over so she could get a look over Layla's shoulder, Kayla realized that Layla had been spying on a couple of kids from school. The girl was...something with a P, and Kayla assumed that the guy was Ron. Seemed like a safe bet.
Layla seemed apologetic about something, volunteering to provide first aid for some wound or other, possibly that bandaged-up jobbie on his arm. And it just occurred to Kayla that there seemed to be some blood on Layla's freaky knife as well. Blood that she hadn't bothered to clean off...or seemed to be nervous about showing off in front of others.
Yeaaaaaahhhhh...perhaps things were not as cool as she'd thought.
Kayla shook her head to banish these thoughts. It was way too early to be jumping to conclusions. After all, it could have been an accident. Layla could have slipped and nicked "Ron"'s arm and he could have misunderstood her intentions and run for his life. And then she could have felt so bad about it that she chased him across the island without having the time to clean her knife off. After all, if she'd actually meant him harm, she wouldn't be casually leaning in and making small talk...right?
"Hey," Kayla said from behind Layla, still maintaining her distance in case things began to get ugly, "is everything okay?" There was no point in making suppositions until she knew the facts. Once everyone got their information out in the open, the tension in the air would dissipate at once.
Maybe.
Everything was going swimmingly until Paloma suddenly whispered that there was someone else here. Ron didn't hear anything himself, and part of him thought she was just messing with him, but he didn't take the risk. He grabbed onto his trusty fire extinguisher and jerked back up to his feet, trying to ignore the burst of pain.
His blood ran cold at the glasses-wearing face that peeked in through the entrance. How was she here?! Had she been chasing after him the whole time!? He'd thought she would just give up and try to find other prey. But no, she wanted to kill him specially. She tried to claim otherwise, but Ron didn't believe anything she said. She had followed him all the way through the woods to finish the job she'd started at the garden. Why?! What had he ever done to her?!
Ron jumped back and scurried behind Paloma. He had the nozzle pointed at Layla, ready to spray her again at any moment. He vaguely noticed that there was another girl behind Layla. Shit, had she brought friends to kill him?!
"Sh-sh-she's the one!" Ron stuttered at Paloma. "She attacked me! Sl-slashed at me! She wants to kill me!"
Ron's eyes darted down to Layla's weird-looking knife. It was covered in blood. His blood. Ron felt queasy.
"Go away!" he shouted at Layla. "We'll beat the- we'll beat the shit out of you! Don't test us!"
His blood ran cold at the glasses-wearing face that peeked in through the entrance. How was she here?! Had she been chasing after him the whole time!? He'd thought she would just give up and try to find other prey. But no, she wanted to kill him specially. She tried to claim otherwise, but Ron didn't believe anything she said. She had followed him all the way through the woods to finish the job she'd started at the garden. Why?! What had he ever done to her?!
Ron jumped back and scurried behind Paloma. He had the nozzle pointed at Layla, ready to spray her again at any moment. He vaguely noticed that there was another girl behind Layla. Shit, had she brought friends to kill him?!
"Sh-sh-she's the one!" Ron stuttered at Paloma. "She attacked me! Sl-slashed at me! She wants to kill me!"
Ron's eyes darted down to Layla's weird-looking knife. It was covered in blood. His blood. Ron felt queasy.
"Go away!" he shouted at Layla. "We'll beat the- we'll beat the shit out of you! Don't test us!"
Ron had at least half a foot on Paloma, but he was hiding behind her. She wanted to be indignant, but she had more pressing affairs.
She didn't know the girl off-hand, except that she looked a lot older than Paloma was. She was holding a weapon with blood, and Ron's injuries definitely made it seem that he was telling the truth. Paloma didn't want to assume anything; maybe he'd attacked her and this was revenge. Then again, if that were the case, then why leave her alone?
The other girl was also not entirely familiar, save that she was nerdy and kind of loud. She seemed pretty alarmed by Layla-oh right, that was her name-and she had a folding chair. God, what was with the weapons here? Even Layla's blade was all notched. Was it one of those blade-catcher things? She'd drawn those before. Never seen one in person, of course.
Paloma raised the bat defensively, upright in front of her. If Layla was hostile, she'd picked a bad situation to walk into. Paloma wasn't especially keen on defending Ron, but he was theoretically an ally, and if things got bloody, she didn't want to be caught in between them.
In a quick motion, Paloma turned her head to keep an eye on Ron. If he went after her from behind, she had to be ready.
She didn't know the girl off-hand, except that she looked a lot older than Paloma was. She was holding a weapon with blood, and Ron's injuries definitely made it seem that he was telling the truth. Paloma didn't want to assume anything; maybe he'd attacked her and this was revenge. Then again, if that were the case, then why leave her alone?
The other girl was also not entirely familiar, save that she was nerdy and kind of loud. She seemed pretty alarmed by Layla-oh right, that was her name-and she had a folding chair. God, what was with the weapons here? Even Layla's blade was all notched. Was it one of those blade-catcher things? She'd drawn those before. Never seen one in person, of course.
Paloma raised the bat defensively, upright in front of her. If Layla was hostile, she'd picked a bad situation to walk into. Paloma wasn't especially keen on defending Ron, but he was theoretically an ally, and if things got bloody, she didn't want to be caught in between them.
In a quick motion, Paloma turned her head to keep an eye on Ron. If he went after her from behind, she had to be ready.