"...we must try until it kills us."

Private; afternoon of Day 2 (CW: Discussion of sexual assault and self-harm)

The east side of the community housing shows the wear of abandonment. The wilderness has started to reclaim the land the village was built on, meaning that many of the houses furthest from the center have become overgrown with vines and plants. The frequency of tropical storms has had a more noticeable impact on this side of the village as well. Some of the houses have been hit with debris from uprooted trees, while others have been torn asunder by a combination of debris, rain and wind. This has left a scattering of large wooden boards painted various colors across the entire area.

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#31

Post by backslash »

Dolly breathed in, filling her lungs with warm, humid air. She was awake. She was alive. She didn't know how much longer either of those things would be true. She had to make the most of it.

She couldn't bring herself to feel horrified at Violet's words, whether or not they were meant seriously.

"They've already both demonstrated that they're willing to hurt others unprovoked. In one way or another. If you see either of them again, do what you have to do to keep yourself safe." Slowly, Dolly's hands started moving again, picking up their previous pattern of winding the ribbon around her fingers, not as mindlessly frantic as before.

"If you see Tyrell again, and you have the opportunity though... you could tell him I'd like to speak with him."
"Art enriches the community, Steve, no less than a pulsing fire hose, or a fireman beating down a blazing door. So what if we're drawing a nude man? So what if all we ever draw is a nude man, or the same nude man over and over in all sorts of provocative positions? Context, not content! Process, not subject! Don't be so gauche, Steve, it's beneath you."
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#32

Post by VoltTurtle »

((Marceline Carlson continued from Two Hearts))

"Dooooolly! Where did you goooo?"

Marceline lowered her hands, sighing as she aimlessly wandered through the backyards of the east housing block, looking for her girlfriend. She had stopped paying attention for a minute, and in that time Dolly had wandered off somewhere. It was hard to keep her safe when Marceline didn't know where she was, and for all she knew Dolly could be encountering one of the known killers right this moment.

It didn't help that navigating the area was difficult, with both the heat that was even worse than yesterday's and the wooden debris from the destroyed houses scattered all over. If the worst happened, and she wound up hearing Dolly fighting for her life, Marceline worried that it would take too long for her to reach her girlfriend without tripping over something in the process and delaying the rescue.

Suddenly, she stopped in her tracks, pain shooting up her left arm. Clenching her fist, she moved to tug on the sleeve hiding her wrist, revealing the relatively fresh, blood-stained bandages that were wrapped tightly around it. Gripping the paper in her right hand hard, she slowly brought the "survival guide" that they had been given up to her face, staring at the small, reddish-brown text and tally marks that newly adorned the margins of the pages.

The others didn't know what she had done, at least as far as she knew. Everyone had been too groggy in the morning, and too focused on the announcement when it played to notice that she had slipped slightly out of view. Her medical kit had been sitting wide open at the time, the bandages, scissors, and—most prominently—the alcohol pads sitting on the top, as she wiped down the edge of her weapon and the skin of her left arm with the acrid liquid.

When it came time for the announcements to actually play, she had worked quickly, using the scissors as a poor replacement for a pen after she had slit her wrist, scribbling names and tally marks as her classmates were listed off. Tears had been flowing, not only from the physical pain she was experiencing, but from the emotional pain of hearing of all of the people she had previously trusted turning themselves into monsters.

Staring at the paper as she began moving once again, one name stuck out in particular, a name she had underlined multiple times in a rage. Nick Ogilvie had killed her darling Beryl, one of her best friends and a member of her band, and one of the sweetest people she knew. Beryl would never hurt a fly, let alone a person, which only meant that Nick had murdered her, intentionally.

She eyed the list, fresh tears starting to flow as she went over the names and tally marks, repeating it all to herself internally.

Paloma. Tirzah. Tyrell, twice. Nick. Katrina. Quinn. Blaise. Justin.

Marceline knew what all of them looked like, as she was remarkably good at remembering people's names and, most importantly, the faces attached to those names. She just needed to memorize her list, so she didn't have to look at it every time she needed to assess how much of a threat one of her classmates was. If she did judge them to be a threat, some of them would just be warned to leave, since she couldn't know for sure if a one-time killer was acting in self-defense or not, after all. Nick and Tyrell, however, would receive no mercy from her. A killer of someone so innocent and a double murderer were clearly guilty. If she saw them, and if she had a chance to end the threat they presented...

She breathed heavy, choking at the thought of what that would entail. But she would protect Dolly, she would protect everyone, no matter what it took, and she wouldn't hesitate, even if what she would have to do would destroy her after the fact.

Putting the paper away, Marceline took hold of the folded spear that she had been keeping under the crook of her arm, sighing to herself. She wandered for several more minutes, only to hear voices speaking some distance away, one of which was definitely Dolly. Following the sound and emerging from the backyards onto the street proper, she finally saw her girlfriend, talking with what looked to be Violet, only a small ways away. Immediately, Marceline rushed towards her, dodging the debris as best she could, and embraced Dolly with a surprise hug, taking care to make sure the spear's blade was kept at a safe distance as she did so. Nuzzling her head against her girlfriend's shoulder, she turned her attention to the newcomer, who was clearly packing heat.

"Hey there Vivi!" She said, her voice taking on its usual happy-go-lucky, sing-song tone in response to seeing one of her friends. "Nice to see you're still kicking. Hope I didn't interrupt anything between the two of you."
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#33

Post by MethodicalSlacker »

"Of—"

Sudden movement, a blur rushing right in front of her eyes. She suppressed a yelp. Violet's gun raised an inch, and—

Wait, that was just Marcy. Marcy was harmless. Calm down, Violet. Gun lowered back down, pointed back down and away. Sure, she had some strange weapon thing tucked away under her arm, one that looked pretty dangerous, but she was still Marcy. For all the violence she had seen and experienced in the last two days, none of it had come from people she hadn't expected it from with the possible exception of herself. Something sour slid its way down her throat. Everyone else had stayed true to who they were. Everyone but her. And maybe Paloma, but the circumstances around that felt very complicated and maybe even justified. She couldn't know. Nobody did but Paloma and the viewers at home. Still, the point stood. Violet had strayed from the path.

She had to remind herself that it was too late. That even though this right now, right here, felt like a moment of reprieve, it was too late for her to change course. That was the surest way to lose. To grow comfortable. She could throw away half a day of her time and take shelter with her friends only to be surrounded and outnumbered by Dolly and Marcy's group when the announcements played, or she could go alone and survive. That was the choice, here. It wasn't really a choice. Choice implied that both paths were valid and would lead to good things. Survival. But they wouldn't, and that was a lie, and the warmth and comfort that Violet could feel creeping back into her was also a lie and she found easily that she really didn't want to stick around to face the truth. Not here. Not now. Not later. Not anywhere.

But maybe she could say hi to Marcy for a few minutes before she left.

"Oh, no, it's fine," Violet said, "Dolly and I were, um, just catching up. I'm glad that, um, you're also, alive, yeah."
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#34

Post by Laurels »

((Meka Gibson continued from Two Hearts))

Meka sat on a windowsill, one leg folded the other, and stroked his chin. It had been a rough night for him and the others. They found a house and were able to take shelter there, but that didn't assuage a lot of his fears and worries about being here. If anything, his mind was racing a lot more than normal, but with less produced out of it than normal. Usually, if he was kept awake by racing thoughts, he'd try to write down any phrases that came to mind in a journal he kept by his bedside, which he even brought on his trip. But the journal and any pens he had in his bag were gone, so he merely had to lie in place and stare at the ceiling.

It wasn't until the announcement that he finally decided to give up on trying to sleep any longer. This was the moment he was really dreading, and now it was official. SOTF had begun, and people were going to take the terrorists up on their offer. Meka listened carefully to the announcement, trying to remember all the names that were mentioned. It was one thing to know who the killers were, but he paid more attention to the victims. Meka knew he'd only get one chance to hear the names, so he tried to quickly memorize the names and repeat them to himself.

Some time had passed, and now Dolly and Marceline were elsewhere. Meka remained in the home with Rhonda. He wasn't going to leave her alone, and he was hoping the lovers would return. He hadn't had much to do other than change around his clothing a bit. He took off his jacket and packed it away, keeping the sweatshirt tied around his waist. He kept the hat on, if only to keep the sunlight out of his eyes and keep sweat from dripping in his eyes. He still had both pieces of the bow with him, although he had awkwardly tried tying them together by using the string to tie both pieces together. Meka was only at the shoelace-level of knot tying expertise, so he wasn't entirely confident he had put the bow back together in a way that would help him or the girls. It was at least some relief he now had one weapon instead of two, but not much.

With not much to do but sit and wait, Meka continued to repeat the names to himself. He continued to think about whatever he could about the deceased, as well as his thoughts about trying to escape or alert the US to their location. It was one thing to have ideas, but implementing them was hard, especially with cameras everywhere.

He then sighed. There was one idea in his mind, and he was curious if his friend would join him in it.

"Hey, Rhonda," he said to Rhonda. "Want to talk? At least until Dolly and Marcy come back?"
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#35

Post by Espi »

((Rhonda was trying not to cry.))

It wasn't working. Her face was a mess despite all the effort to keep herself clean and dry. She had slept horribly. She could feel the cameras, the eyes watching her, and it made it impossible to relax.

Quinn. Quinn had killed someone. Rhonda didn't know Violet, not well, but Quinn had stabbed her. She couldn't imagine it, couldn't imagine why. Quinn was quiet, a little strange, but she wasn't a killer. Maybe Violet was? Maybe it was self-defense. But she didn't know. She might never find out. Plus, there was the other people. Abel, Toby, Dante. Christine. People she knew. Dead. Gone forever. She couldn't bear the thought, but Rhonda didn't have any way to avoid it. She'd cried during the announcement.

Even being around Marcy and Dolly was awkward, like she was out of place. Marcy was out of place, and Rhonda didn't know what to think of her yet.Thankfully, Meka was here. Rhonda knew him, and she trusted him. He was helping her hold herself together, just by being her. They'd slept in a house, and for the moment, she felt pretty safe at least. But that wasn't going to last, and she knew it, and she didn't know what to do about it.

Rhonda sat, arms around her legs, staring at the wall. Meka was talking to her. She didn't want to ignore him. "Sure. What are you thinking?"
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#36

Post by backslash »

Dolly heard the footsteps as they approached, steadily growing more audible over the rain, but she didn't react quite in time before she was attacked. Marceline's hug drew a small, startled noise out of her, but that was all. Marceline was all. Dolly might have been so used to these sudden appearances and displays of affection that it didn't even occur to her to react right away when she heard approaching footsteps.

She might need to work on that.

Dolly uncurled the fingers of one hand, feeling the sting of the impressions her nails had dug into her palm, and she laid her hand over Marceline's where it sat on her hip before anyone might notice and ask questions. The other hand still held her hair ribbons, but loosely now, color returning to her white fingertips.

"Did you leave Emeka and Rhonda back in the house, or are they coming too?" She asked Marceline. Violet had already seemed set on departing, but the more crowded it got, the sooner she'd likely leave. It would be nice for her and Marceline to have a moment before then. Violet didn't seem very set on seeing any of them again once she left here. Dolly understood, and didn't blame her.

Much like Ariana, Dolly hoped that once Violet took her leave, she'd just vanish into the misty afternoon. If she could have believed that everyone who left her sight really was vanishing without a trace, she might have followed.
"Art enriches the community, Steve, no less than a pulsing fire hose, or a fireman beating down a blazing door. So what if we're drawing a nude man? So what if all we ever draw is a nude man, or the same nude man over and over in all sorts of provocative positions? Context, not content! Process, not subject! Don't be so gauche, Steve, it's beneath you."
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#37

Post by VoltTurtle »

"Yep!" Marceline exclaimed in response. "They're still back there, safe and sound, they didn't need to come with me."

Nuzzling her head against her girlfriend's shoulder again, it occurred to Marceline that they had not actually done anything nice since they reunited. They didn't have many chances for that kind of stuff left, so it'd probably be for the best if they tried to fit in as much as they could. Craning her head up, her mouth approaching where she assumed Dolly's ear was, through all her hair. "Hey, when we get the chance, meet me after sunset."

She smiled, before kissing Dolly gently on the cheek, and running her hands through her girlfriend's hair, her free arm wrapped around Dolly's waist. They really did need some more time together. As much as they could fit in, before she would inevitably die getting Dolly to the end.

...Now that she thought about it, it would probably be a good idea to also talk about her plans with the person central to them. Dolly deserved to know, even if she might not necessarily like it.

"Oh yeah by the waaay, Vivi..." Marceline chirped, turning her head back towards Violet, "...that gun is nice. It's a... Winchester or something, I think? Older guns aren't really my forte. Still, I'm glad you have it and not someone else."

She smiled even wider, trying her best to maintain cheerfulness and composure despite the circumstances. "'Course, it would be better if we weren't even here in the first place, but there's no use in trying to change the past! Best to just stay safe and keep moving forward."

"Oh, actually," she said, giving Dolly a small squeeze, "since you're here, why don't you stick around with us? We could use someone level-headed like you, Vivi."
THEY'RE COMING FOR YOU. READ ABOUT THEM AND PREPARE YOURSELF.
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#38

Post by MethodicalSlacker »

Violet wasn't sure whether Marceline was correct about anything she said. She didn't know whether or not the gun was an older model. She didn't know whether it was good that she had it instead of somebody else, given what she had already done with it so far. And she also wasn't sure that she could stick around with Dolly's group any longer. The claim about being level-headed also sounded funny. Violet shook her head. It wasn't right. None of this was. The shape of the trial was clear, and what Violet had to do in its face was clearer. She took a nervous step backwards.

"Thanks, but, um, no thanks," she said softly, "I can't really stay with you guys. I have to go. Probably, uh, right now. Because if I don't leave now, I don't know if I'll be able to leave, but I want to. Leave. I mean."

She sighed deeply and shrugged her shoulders. This wasn't going to be easy, but she didn't want her friends to get hurt, and an excellent way for fate to push her further down this path would be to hurt one of her friends in front of her, or to make it necessary for Violet to do it herself. To that end, she had to tell them what was burning on the edge of her tongue. If she let it stay there any longer, it might just go unsaid.

"You should probably, um, stop thinking of me as a part of the friend-group," Violet continued, "I shouldn't be someone you associate with any more if you want to live these last few, uh, days, peacefully. And if you see me again, you probably shouldn't try to talk to me. You'll need to stay away from me if you see me again. I mean that. I—"

Fresh tears spilled out of Violet's eyes and started to roll down her cheeks. This was all becoming too much to bear. Violet wished that she could coat her words with venom, but she couldn't. What she had to do and what she wanted to do were two distinct, separate things, and the roughest part of it all was—

"I wish I could stay with you guys. I do. I really do.

"But I can't.

"I just,

"can't."

She spun on her heel and started off into the rain, her steps quick and panicked, posture bent and crooked, before she stopped just as abruptly only several paces away to put on her hood. When it was was covering her head, she turned around to face the girls under the canopy for a brief moment and gave them both a tearful smile.

"Bye," she managed, before she quick-turned and fled.

[Violet Schmidt continued in Play Me A Song To Set Me Free.]
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—The Heaven Panel—



Image / Image - G051: Lili Williams: 1. Kidnapped from her school trip and thrown into a horrific death game, Lili wanders the wasteland in search of her past life before it slides away from her for good.

Meanwhile 1. From Here On Out [Complete] Marie Bernstein eats ice cream with her friend and gets a text message.

Image / Image - B043: Arthur Bernstein: 2. Arthur watches the waters from the beach, knowing that their presence spells death. Seeking his sister's comfort, he takes up the spear and walks alongside another.

Meanwhile 2. Colorless [Complete] A family reunion under less than ideal circumstances. When trying to unravel the mystery of her brother's death at the hands of esoteric serial terrorists, Marie discovers more than she bargained for.

——The Earth Panel——




𝄇


Image - G026: Liberty "Bert" Wren: 3. It is happening again. To make things right, Bert must understand where things went wrong.

Image - B049: Max Rudolph: 4. The words we use to construct our realities often also make up the links in our chains. Fleeing a vision, Max builds his most elaborate prison yet.

Image - B032: Lucas Diaz: 5. A life lived through the views of others. In pursuit of revenge and his own death, Lucas Diaz interrupts the falling of many dominos.

Meanwhile 3. Because We Love You [Complete] Selections from a Google Drive, never to be logged into again.

Meanwhile 4. The Lines We Draw [Complete] In the process of collecting his brother's memories, Milo Diaz has a fitful morning.

Image - G007: Violet Schmidt: 6. The stars in the night sky do not make pictures. Breathing on both sides of the water, Violet Schmidt journeys to escape the confines of her own mind, and her reality.

Meanwhile 5. Years of Pilgrimage [???] Dana Schmidt is dreaming.

Meanwhile 6. Colorless II [Ongoing] Charlie Bernstein returns to the desert and finds it empty.

Meanwhile 7. Writing the Enigma [Ongoing] Randy Rudolph provides lodgings for Marie Bernstein as she investigates Survival of the Fittest, the city of Chattanooga, and the meaning of water.
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#39

Post by Laurels »

"Well, about anything, really. I guess..." Meka started.

He began to wring his palms.

"I feel like this is just the time to say things we never got to say. Or might never get to say. After all..."

He glanced to a camera in the corner of the room.

"Someone's watching and listening."

Meka sighed in and out. He glanced to the camera.

"I guess I'll start."

He stood up and walked over to the camera.

"Hi. My name is Emeka Gibson. I'm 18 years old from Chattanooga, Tennessee. Odds are I will die here, so I don't know how often I'll be able to do this. So...let me start."

And with that, he began.

The next morning, Meka leaned against a wall and recounted the names listed on the announcement, trying hard not to forget anyone from the first day. If his memorization skills were as good as he hoped they were (they had to be if he was to perform slam without reading a poem off his phone), he should have gotten everyone. He was probably around 30 or so names, so it was going to be hard to keep this up for the next few days unless he found some writing utensils. Until then, he continued to roll the names over his tongue until they flowed as naturally from him as any basic greeting or turn of phrase.

Most of the second day had been spent fortifying the house they were in. Meka and the girls moved furniture around and used whatever they could to block the doors and windows. He wasn't sure how successful it was, but now there as only one way in and out, and they could allow themselves some moments of solace. Meka knew he wouldn't experience many of these over the next few days, so he'd take them if he can.

When he wasn't moving and barricading, Meka continued to craft ideas in his head. Ideas about ways to alert the island to the attention of anyone looking for them, memories of people he knew back in school, names and alliterations, phrases from the announcement, etc. He remembered chatting with Regina Petrov about life plans that she would now never get to fulfill, how someone as magnetic as Mikki Swift was now no longer there, and so forth. Once he had his ideas together, he looked back to the camera.

"My name is Emeka Gibson," he said. "Let me repeat myself from yesterday."

He took a deep inhale, then continued.

"Abel Zelenovic, say his name. Toby Underwood, say his name. Christine Bright, say her name. Beryl Mahelona, say her name. Felix Rees, say his name. Yuko Hayashibara, say her name. Violet Quinn, say her name. Dante Valerio, say his name. Benedict Murray, say his name. Mikki Swift, say her name. Phillip Olivares, say his name. Terra Johnson, say her name. Bree Jones, say her name. Sapphire Waters, say her name. Danny Chamnanma, say his name. Cammy Walker-Grimsley, say her name. Kyle Harrison, say his name. Ron Kiser, say his name. Desiree Beck, say her name. Kayla Harris, say her name. Jeremiah Anderson, say his name. Mercy Ames, say her name. Regina Petrov, say her name. Caroline Ford, say her name."

Meka breathed in.

"Don't forget them tomorrow," he concluded.

He turned away from the camera. Yesterday, he had done this ritual with the first day victims. Now he added the new ones to the list. He wasn't sure he'd be able to do this every morning while he was on this island, but he had to make a stand. He was an activist, after all. There was no way he could just let the names of the victims of evil be forgotten or brushed aside.

Now that he was done, it was time to see what the ladies were up to.
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#40

Post by Espi »

So many names, blurring together. Rhonda was a horrible person.

Maybe that wasn't fair-she was far from the worst person here, realistically-but she felt ashamed. She could only keep track of two names, now. Meka remembered every single person who was no longer here, and meanwhile she just had two. Jeremiah was her friend, and now he was dead.

Quinn was her friend, too, and now she was a murderer. Twice. That couldn't be a coincidence, right? Were both of them accidents? Rhonda didn't know. She didn't remember Danny well enough. Or Violet Quinn. Would they have attacked her? Maybe it was an accident the first time, and the second was self-defense?

Arizona was here, and she wasn't a killer. Shauna was here, and she wasn't a killer. Cheridene was here, and she wasn't a killer. Rhonda was here, and she wasn't a killer. Was it just bad luck? Was Quinn hiding something, all that time they'd known each other, and Rhonda was just too stupid to figure it out? Unless she saw the other girl and got an answer, she'd probably never know, until she died, if there was a God in Heaven and he told her.

Rhonda felt guilty, too. She was safe in this house, as best she could tell. Dolly and Marcy were fine, if a little odd, and Meka was here, thank God. They'd blocked up stuff as best they could. She felt trapped, boxed in, restless, but if it was that or wandering around until someone put a bullet in her, she'd just have to deal with it. Other people weren't so lucky as to feel as safe as she did.

So here she was, staring out an open window into the rain. She probably shouldn't have pushed stuff aside, left the opening, but Rhonda needed the fresh air, and she was probably going to see someone coming before they saw her. As to what she would do if she saw someone, she didn't know. Hide, probably. That was about the best she could do right now. Not die.

Rhonda exhaled, hugging herself. It was hot and humid so she was gross and sweaty. She hated it. She hated everything about this place. As if that meant anything to anyone here.
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#41

Post by backslash »

With another rush of words, Violet was gone. The curtain of rain parted to let her through and closed back up behind her. Dolly watched her go until she disappeared among the buildings and debris and the nature encroaching in on it all.

"Let's go back," was all she said to Marceline. It wasn't her place to reveal everything she had learned. Some of it would come out. Some wasn't to be shared ever.

She slid her arm around Marceline's waist, and they wound their way back to the house like that. Once there, Dolly bid a muted greeting to Emeka and Rhonda again, and then she made her way to where she'd left her belongings. She sat neatly, tucking her legs underneath herself, and dug her makeup bag out of the duffel.

While Marceline planned, and Rhonda fretted, and Meka recited to the camera, Dolly carefully tied her hair back up and reapplied her makeup. She felt like the face in the compact mirror shouldn't have looked like her own.
The dog paced in a circle in the clearing, padding over the fallen leaves. It walked around and around and around and around, until the skin on the bottoms of its paws wore through and it began trailing blood in a circle on the ground.

Around and around and around and around.

Whatever it was waiting for never came. Dolly never stepped out from her hiding place, watching it from among the trees.
They'd barricaded up the house for the night. Dolly was itching to move, but she hadn't argued with it. Safety in numbers, safety indoors.

Until the cabin fever set in, anyway. Or their supplies ran out. Or someone just got to thinking a little too much.

They could address one of those things at least. "Marceline and I were going to look through some of the other buildings," she informed Meka and Rhonda. "You're welcome to come along, if you like."

She didn't expect them to follow, though. That was alright.

She was feeling a touch of the cabin fever herself, and the fewer witnesses, the better.

((Dolores Upton continued elsewhere))
"Art enriches the community, Steve, no less than a pulsing fire hose, or a fireman beating down a blazing door. So what if we're drawing a nude man? So what if all we ever draw is a nude man, or the same nude man over and over in all sorts of provocative positions? Context, not content! Process, not subject! Don't be so gauche, Steve, it's beneath you."
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#42

Post by Namira »

((Quinn continued from a thug changes and love changes and best friends become strangers))

Wet.

Quinn had done her best to keep the worst of the rain off, situating herself under a broad-leafed tree with a thick trunk, using it as shelter and windbreak both. In time, the warmth and boredom had brought on drowsiness, and Quinn had decided not to fight it. Perhaps somebody could have come along and ended her in her sleep, but her position was relatively concealed and she was surrounded by miles of forest. The chances of a person stumbling upon her were limited. Ironically, it was possibly safer here out in the open than concealing herself in the house had been. Sure enough, she'd woken up unharmed, if damp. Nothing to be done about that, though she needed to consider the ill-effects of trudging around in wet clothing for too long. Somewhere dry, for a spell. People? She'd take that as it came. Her name was marked twice over now, not that it made a particular difference to how she intended to approach anyone else. Them to her, however...

Well, she would see if hearing her on the announcement would do anything to jog some memories of who she was. Perhaps they'd remember the second-stringer of the star team. Perhaps they'd remember who they mocked.

Back and forth Quinn came here, like a metronome. The houses still weren't safe, but she liked the prospect of the manor and surrounding area even less, and she wasn't certain about the other outerlying areas. Too many of them felt good for an ambush, the kind she would consider setting.

She took her scouting slow, inspecting each area thoroughly and not moving out into the open until she was positive that nobody was lying in wait with a killzone. An unoccupied house would be best. She didn't want to cause a commotion and render the place unusable for her purposes. Though, perhaps if she caught someone by surprise—oh, but they could be with someone. No, best to make sure she was there alone before—

Her train of thought was derailed as she moved around to flank another house and saw someone looking out at her from within. Recognition was instant. Quinn backpedalled around the closest corner.

Rhonda.
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Espi
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#43

Post by Espi »

Rhonda nodded, silent, as Dolly informed her of their departure. It was thoughtless of her not to say more as they left, really. She was going to worry about them now until they returned, because they might not return. She should have said something more.

Quinn.

"Heh-hey!" Rhonda explained, a sharp gasp, as she saw the movement outside the window, the familiar face peering back. She didn't have time to think, even as a million questions, concerns, worries ran through her. She shoved the window open, jumping through it onto the soft, wet earth with only the slightest of stumbles.

"Hey, Quinn!" Rhonda shouted as she started running towards the edge of the building Quinn had ducked behind. If she was ever, ever going to get an answer, to know what had happened to her friend, before it was too late, now was the time. She had to know. She had to.
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Laurels
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#44

Post by Laurels »

"We can watch the house. Stay safe," Meka said as Dolly and Marceline left.

He sighed. The air in the house wasn't the best due to the dust and age of everything. He was starting to feel a bit stuffy. But there wasn't much he could do if he went out. Dolly and Marceline could protect each other. Rhonda couldn't be left alone, and he certainly wouldn't want to be left back either. For the most part, he'd just have to do his best to defend their hideout with his awkward weapon.

However, it looked like Rhonda was prepared to go anyways. She started shouting about Quinn, then jumped out the window.

"Rhonda? Wait!" Meka blurted as she disappeared.

Meka hurried over and grabbed his bow from his bags. He then moved over and climbed out the window and outside. He wasn't sure where Rhonda was going. Violet Quinn was dead, and the other Quinn killed her and Danny. Maybe Rhonda could gauge her better than he could, but from the sound of it, his friend was running after a double killer, and there was no way he could just let her saunter off towards possible danger alone.

With that, Meka followed after where Rhonda's trail led, whatever that led to.
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VoltTurtle
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#45

Post by VoltTurtle »

The day had passed uneventfully after Violet left.

While Marceline was disappointed that her friend wasn't going to be staying with them, she respected her decision and didn't fight it, wishing her the best. Upon returning to the base they had established, Marceline organized the fortification of the house they were staying in as the night set in, and shortly thereafter spent an hour or so stargazing with her girlfriend outside, before they went back in to go to sleep.

The next morning came and went without much trouble. Marceline had been fortunate enough to stumble upon an unsharpened pencil while gathering supplies to fortify the house they were staying in, and after some manual sharpening with Dolly's knife, had something that she could write with, no self-injury necessary. She had been troubled by the names she heard on the announcements, especially Violet being named as one of the killers, but she did her best to mourn the lost despite her building rage, as she added new names and new tally marks to the margins of the survival guide, still unsure of exactly how to deal with her classmates-turned-monsters.

Once the announcements finished, Dolly suggested that the two of them go for a supply run, and, always happy to be alone with her girlfriend, Marceline obliged, bidding temporary farewell to Rhonda and Meka as the pair left, chirping away happily about mundane things with Dolly as they walked, still unsure of how she was going to tell her girlfriend everything she had been keeping to herself.

((Marceline Carlson continued elsewhere...))
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