Now, normally Lucas would make it a point not to approach a bunch of armed people firing off guns, but it looked like that was going to be the plan as Max walked out to speak with the other group. Lucas flanked Max as they walked from their hiding spot to approach the group, his fingers drumming on the forend of King Ghidorah as he tried to mask his nervousness over the situation. Sure, he had a shotgun but they had more guns and it a shotgun didn't mean anything when it was up against multiple guns.
He could recognize everyone in the other group, especially the girls, Darlene and Beryl. If he recalled right, Beryl actually had experience using guns. The others he couldn't be too sure on, if not was it possible Beryl was coaching them here? That must be interesting experience given that Beryl is kind of... is an oddball. Seeing her here and now dredged up memories of that time in the auditorium and Lucas felt a twinge of phantom pain go through his three best friends, Mr. Johnson and the Juice Crew. To think that event was only a few months ago. He had been on this island for less than a day and his life as just a regular teenager seemed like a lifetime ago.
In any case, things were different now. So far they hadn't been shot at and right now Lucas was basically the main combatant of the trio he found himself a part of. If things go south then it was probably expected that he step up. He hoped that it wouldn't need to come to that.
He just hoped Max knew what he was doing. Lucas looked back at the two girls with the other group and smiled, giving them a little wave.
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TheLordOfAwesome
- Posts: 489
- Joined: Mon Aug 13, 2018 4:37 pm
- Location: Washington
Jonah went first, Darlene followed. Just a little ways beyond the closest of the trees and there lay the unknown, present, possibly malignant, spreading in the form of silhouettes shaped humanoid. Beryl then recognized faces.
... Names, those remained somewhere overseas.
But she smiled, and abandoned her weapon to earth because it was heavy enough that it was tiresome to hold idly. She made no effort to actively acknowledge that she was now possibly the only one present who was unarmed. There were plenty of guns in her general vicinity, but Beryl was used to the idea of that. Guns were a safe and familiar memory, one she'd never been hurt by. The ringing in her ears that sometimes followed the explosion of gunpowder- welcome, cozily deafening. She did not fear the guns- they were a known quantity.
"You two know each other?" Jonah was hugging the modestly over-dressed one- Beryl could project a dismal future for the fabric of that dress shirt.
Beryl also supposedly knew everyone there. She supposed the supposedly. The girl prettily tall, as if her roots ground her to the treant's earth, smiled. The other boy smiled. Lucas- his name was Lucas. Had they consummated some kind of relationship in the past? Beryl vaguely recalled something or another... Johnson... juice... So on.
Beryl waved back. She smiled, and as usual didn't really look the part.
... Names, those remained somewhere overseas.
But she smiled, and abandoned her weapon to earth because it was heavy enough that it was tiresome to hold idly. She made no effort to actively acknowledge that she was now possibly the only one present who was unarmed. There were plenty of guns in her general vicinity, but Beryl was used to the idea of that. Guns were a safe and familiar memory, one she'd never been hurt by. The ringing in her ears that sometimes followed the explosion of gunpowder- welcome, cozily deafening. She did not fear the guns- they were a known quantity.
"You two know each other?" Jonah was hugging the modestly over-dressed one- Beryl could project a dismal future for the fabric of that dress shirt.
Beryl also supposedly knew everyone there. She supposed the supposedly. The girl prettily tall, as if her roots ground her to the treant's earth, smiled. The other boy smiled. Lucas- his name was Lucas. Had they consummated some kind of relationship in the past? Beryl vaguely recalled something or another... Johnson... juice... So on.
Beryl waved back. She smiled, and as usual didn't really look the part.
V8 Vibes:
V7 Vibes:
Ugh, just what Abe needed. Another bunch of fuckin' nerds that he cared even less about than the fuckin' nerds he was already with and pretty apathetic about. "Sup, nerds?" He asked, casually swaggering towards the new group, gun held securely in both of his hands, pointing safely towards the ground.
Two guys. One girl. One gun. Mathematically worse off than Abe's pal party in every way, but maybe they had team spirit or some shit going for them. Their leader looked and sounded like he'd sooner fuck a thesaurus than use any word that'd get less than five points in Scrabble. Jonah was hugging him, which would be a good sign if Abe had seen any evidence that indicated Jonah could hold anything other than annoyingly positive feelings for his fellow man.
"Yeah, we've been having a blast. Get it? That was a gun pun. A gpun, if you will." Being shitty was all Abe would ever have to contribute, but by god, he would put his heart into it stopped being an effective coping mechanism. When that happened he'd just, like, die, he guessed.
Two guys. One girl. One gun. Mathematically worse off than Abe's pal party in every way, but maybe they had team spirit or some shit going for them. Their leader looked and sounded like he'd sooner fuck a thesaurus than use any word that'd get less than five points in Scrabble. Jonah was hugging him, which would be a good sign if Abe had seen any evidence that indicated Jonah could hold anything other than annoyingly positive feelings for his fellow man.
"Yeah, we've been having a blast. Get it? That was a gun pun. A gpun, if you will." Being shitty was all Abe would ever have to contribute, but by god, he would put his heart into it stopped being an effective coping mechanism. When that happened he'd just, like, die, he guessed.
Henry had been observing the newcomers with some suspicion, though Jonah's reaction managed to allay most of his fears. He didn't know Max, Camila, or Lucas well but knew their names. Max had always given Henry the impression of someone fixated and orderly, and certainly the way that he'd approached them belied that about him. If it was a fixation on denying the plans of the Arthro Taskforce, Lucas seemed ill at ease - which made sense, being the only one of the new group with a gun approaching their heavily armed crew - but it was more of a cautious energy than one fit to suddenly panic. It was weird seeing someone wave while toting a shotgun, though.
However, Henry's attention quickly became laser-focused on Camilla - not her person, or the forced smile of hers, but what she was holding onto. A walkie-talkie. A radio transceiver. A potential solution to the paramount issue they all faced. Only potentially, of course. The terrorists wouldn't have put something like that on the island if they weren't sure enough it couldn't be used to transmit the disarm signal to the collars. There was the issue of a proper power supply, the limited broadcast range, and even the dangerous trial-and-error of finding the right frequency to disarm the bombs instead of detonate them. It would take hours, and scouring this island for supplies was no small task, especially one that seemed to be so light on any kind of technology.
Work the problem.
Looking to the others, he couldn't help but feel hopeful. They weren't just avoiding hostilities, it seemed like they were actively trying to make the best out of a bad situation. It was a sign that things hadn't completely gone to shit, and if he could figure out a way to communicate his plans surreptitiously - they might actually have a chance here.
Carefully.
Henry walked just slightly past where Jonah and Max were standing, making sure to keep the BFG pointed down towards the ground as he did so. He tried his best to ignore Abe's attempt at a joke, which by this point seemed like some kind of annoying coping mechanism. If it kept his head on reasonably straight, Henry wouldn't complain. He directed his attention to Camilla, who seemed a bit left out by the reunion of Max and Jonah.
"Hey there, I'm Henry. You're Camilla, right? Looks like we're quite the merry band of heavily armed pacifists. At least, speaking for myself as peaceful and this thing as, well, heavy. I think I can guess what they handed the other two - what's that they gave you?"
However, Henry's attention quickly became laser-focused on Camilla - not her person, or the forced smile of hers, but what she was holding onto. A walkie-talkie. A radio transceiver. A potential solution to the paramount issue they all faced. Only potentially, of course. The terrorists wouldn't have put something like that on the island if they weren't sure enough it couldn't be used to transmit the disarm signal to the collars. There was the issue of a proper power supply, the limited broadcast range, and even the dangerous trial-and-error of finding the right frequency to disarm the bombs instead of detonate them. It would take hours, and scouring this island for supplies was no small task, especially one that seemed to be so light on any kind of technology.
Work the problem.
Looking to the others, he couldn't help but feel hopeful. They weren't just avoiding hostilities, it seemed like they were actively trying to make the best out of a bad situation. It was a sign that things hadn't completely gone to shit, and if he could figure out a way to communicate his plans surreptitiously - they might actually have a chance here.
Carefully.
Henry walked just slightly past where Jonah and Max were standing, making sure to keep the BFG pointed down towards the ground as he did so. He tried his best to ignore Abe's attempt at a joke, which by this point seemed like some kind of annoying coping mechanism. If it kept his head on reasonably straight, Henry wouldn't complain. He directed his attention to Camilla, who seemed a bit left out by the reunion of Max and Jonah.
"Hey there, I'm Henry. You're Camilla, right? Looks like we're quite the merry band of heavily armed pacifists. At least, speaking for myself as peaceful and this thing as, well, heavy. I think I can guess what they handed the other two - what's that they gave you?"
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MethodicalSlacker
- Posts: 1231
- Joined: Tue Aug 14, 2018 2:18 am
- Location: Here And There Along The Echo
- Contact:
Max initially seized up at being caught in Jonah's arms, but upon the realization that the gesture carried friendly intent and would not be followed up by a pinning to the ground or a suplexing over Jonah's shoulders, quickly returned the embrace. It was a great and pleasant surprise to be met so appreciatively by someone he was familiar and well acquainted with in spite of the awkwardness of holding aloft the man-catcher whilst doing so.
However, Jonah raised a valid concern with his questioning of their captain's location. Embarrassingly, Max had committed the blunder of forsaking the bonds that he had made in the past in favor of calling upon a common camaraderie and confusion he had foolishly assumed his classmates to share in. He'd have done better searching on his own for other members of the baseball team.
"I'm fine," Max reassured, "and I have not seen him, no. These folks—Lucas, Camilla—these are the only two others I've run into here thus far."
Surveying better the motley crew milling about the clearing, Max sighed. What was keeping this group together? What through-line was there?
"What about the others?" he asked, "Have you come across Blake Davis? Mike Brown?"
Casting a glance to the side, he coughed.
"Billy Trevino?"
However, Jonah raised a valid concern with his questioning of their captain's location. Embarrassingly, Max had committed the blunder of forsaking the bonds that he had made in the past in favor of calling upon a common camaraderie and confusion he had foolishly assumed his classmates to share in. He'd have done better searching on his own for other members of the baseball team.
"I'm fine," Max reassured, "and I have not seen him, no. These folks—Lucas, Camilla—these are the only two others I've run into here thus far."
Surveying better the motley crew milling about the clearing, Max sighed. What was keeping this group together? What through-line was there?
"What about the others?" he asked, "Have you come across Blake Davis? Mike Brown?"
Casting a glance to the side, he coughed.
"Billy Trevino?"
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BlizzardeyeWonder
- Posts: 682
- Joined: Mon Aug 13, 2018 3:41 pm
- Location: The Zone™
Camilla was about to finally raise her voice and properly greet Beryl when her attention was snatched away by some guy. Henry, he said. He gestured to the walkie-talkie she held in her hand. She looked down at it slightly. Through the continuous droning chorus of an irrational voice in the back of her head saying pleasedontshootmepleasedontshootme, she was able to think of a response.
"Oh, these?" she said as she lifted her hand a bit to better show what it held. "Yeah. I guess so. Heavily armed pacifists, you say?"
Heavily armed pacifists. It wasn't an inaccurate assessment, not entirely. But there were different levels of pacifism, and the fact the other group had been practicing to use their guns put them a level down, away from "true" pacifism. That was excusable though. It wasn't like pacifism was an option anymore. If what she knew about her class held any merit anymore, people would fight. They probably already fought. Did someone already die? That wasn't out of the question, but she already dwelled on this.
"Well, it's good to see..." should she say 'heavily armed pacifists' again? That sounded repetitive. "...you."
Did that sound too personal? Too much like a greeting for a friend. She quickly turned to Beryl, a snap decision. "You all," she finished. "As... you know. A safe group."
She still wasn't satisfied but it was too late to take back her response now- she bit her tongue to keep herself from messing up any further. Not properly bite though, she was too much of a coward to do that. Maybe that's why she never learned from her social gaffes. It was the worst of both worlds. Too detached to be a response to a friend that was no longer technically a friend, and too personal for a group of people. She wasn't even going to pretend anyone here was her friend in that strict sense- at least she shouldn't. So why did she?
"Oh, these?" she said as she lifted her hand a bit to better show what it held. "Yeah. I guess so. Heavily armed pacifists, you say?"
Heavily armed pacifists. It wasn't an inaccurate assessment, not entirely. But there were different levels of pacifism, and the fact the other group had been practicing to use their guns put them a level down, away from "true" pacifism. That was excusable though. It wasn't like pacifism was an option anymore. If what she knew about her class held any merit anymore, people would fight. They probably already fought. Did someone already die? That wasn't out of the question, but she already dwelled on this.
"Well, it's good to see..." should she say 'heavily armed pacifists' again? That sounded repetitive. "...you."
Did that sound too personal? Too much like a greeting for a friend. She quickly turned to Beryl, a snap decision. "You all," she finished. "As... you know. A safe group."
She still wasn't satisfied but it was too late to take back her response now- she bit her tongue to keep herself from messing up any further. Not properly bite though, she was too much of a coward to do that. Maybe that's why she never learned from her social gaffes. It was the worst of both worlds. Too detached to be a response to a friend that was no longer technically a friend, and too personal for a group of people. She wasn't even going to pretend anyone here was her friend in that strict sense- at least she shouldn't. So why did she?
"No sun to rise would be okay with me... Everyday, every day is okay"
"A voice in her head, a voice in her head, screaming all the words that were left unsaid"
"A voice in her head, a voice in her head, screaming all the words that were left unsaid"
Everybody found somewhere they belonged to. Maybe just a moment in time, where their trajectories would intercede, just before a speedy return to the loneliness of cold space.
Beryl heard someone say 'you'. As in 'you all', and perhaps not really in the more individuated sense of 'you'. The tall girl, a familiar face in the same way that old friendships lurked like the warmth of the sun hiding behind the horizon. Another bundle of memories in human form, neatly wrapped flesh that Beryl did wish she could remember a little better. If she carefully unwound the gift wrap, if she was careful and patient and did not tear at the eyeballs or snap off the fingers, she'd be reminded of another time and place. A different Beryl, all different particles.
... Camilla, that was her name. Gardening Club. But the problem was, Camilla wasn't talking to Beryl. She was talking at Beryl, Beryl was just the face of the group- she was irrelevant, in terms of herself. Whatever they'd once shared would remain boxed for however long eternity was truly supposed to feel. That was okay. What was life without a few mysteries? Beryl turned with only an acknowledging raise of her hand, as Henry took over the conversation.
Beryl figured she was supposed to have something to say now? Nothing that came to mind seemed appropriate. She wanted to talk of plans, something about the yacht on the map, navigational equipment, a possible industrial mirror within the lighthouse. But all those things were... eerie. Too much bigger than the mere boundaries of herself. She would have enjoyed to see the ambition of the others in action, but Beryl herself wondered if she could remain preferably unspoiled. Untouched by the acutely harsh passage of time. Beryl had never cared much for immediacy. It tended to drag everything along with it, and Beryl was a bit of a big girl, difficult to drag along.
Metaphysically or otherwise.
"Eye of the storm," she commented to herself, to fill that silence around herself that she wore like all manner of her adorably unnecessary accessories.
She kind of wished everything would go back to the sounds of guns violently reporting for duty. That had been a cleaner sound- it had overpowered the white noise in her lobes.
She faced herself toward section of woods without the others, infinitely distracted by nothing at all.
Beryl heard someone say 'you'. As in 'you all', and perhaps not really in the more individuated sense of 'you'. The tall girl, a familiar face in the same way that old friendships lurked like the warmth of the sun hiding behind the horizon. Another bundle of memories in human form, neatly wrapped flesh that Beryl did wish she could remember a little better. If she carefully unwound the gift wrap, if she was careful and patient and did not tear at the eyeballs or snap off the fingers, she'd be reminded of another time and place. A different Beryl, all different particles.
... Camilla, that was her name. Gardening Club. But the problem was, Camilla wasn't talking to Beryl. She was talking at Beryl, Beryl was just the face of the group- she was irrelevant, in terms of herself. Whatever they'd once shared would remain boxed for however long eternity was truly supposed to feel. That was okay. What was life without a few mysteries? Beryl turned with only an acknowledging raise of her hand, as Henry took over the conversation.
Beryl figured she was supposed to have something to say now? Nothing that came to mind seemed appropriate. She wanted to talk of plans, something about the yacht on the map, navigational equipment, a possible industrial mirror within the lighthouse. But all those things were... eerie. Too much bigger than the mere boundaries of herself. She would have enjoyed to see the ambition of the others in action, but Beryl herself wondered if she could remain preferably unspoiled. Untouched by the acutely harsh passage of time. Beryl had never cared much for immediacy. It tended to drag everything along with it, and Beryl was a bit of a big girl, difficult to drag along.
Metaphysically or otherwise.
"Eye of the storm," she commented to herself, to fill that silence around herself that she wore like all manner of her adorably unnecessary accessories.
She kind of wished everything would go back to the sounds of guns violently reporting for duty. That had been a cleaner sound- it had overpowered the white noise in her lobes.
She faced herself toward section of woods without the others, infinitely distracted by nothing at all.
V8 Vibes:
V7 Vibes:
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MurderWeasel
- Posts: 2566
- Joined: Thu Aug 09, 2018 1:37 am
At first, as the others talked and introduced each other and hugged and did all that stuff, Darlene was a little nervous. It was a general sort of nervousness, though, not because of what they were doing but just because there were so many people in a small area without any specific activity binding them. She always felt awkward in big groups, and preferred to fade into the background, and to be fair that was pretty much what she was doing right now. That was okay, then. That was a measure of normalcy returning, except for the fact they were in a forest on an island with a lot of guns all doomed to die!
As the unsureness bled away, then, Darlene found it replaced with something else: antsiness and mild boredom. She was positive that the conversations were important, and she was still going to float around near Jonah and the boy the big claw stick just in case something happened or she was needed, but she didn't feel like she had anything to offer to their discussion, and even if she had, she didn't want to say anything. What she really wanted was to sing more, but Darlene knew it annoyed people sometimes and she knew that this was an actual important productive time, so she restrained herself.
With nothing else to do, then, she started to fidget.
First she tucked the revolver awkwardly under her arm and cleaned her glasses. She had cleaned them since the lake, but they'd gotten dusty again just a little and it gave her something to do. She almost dropped the gun, though! That would have been, if not totally terrible, at least pretty embarrassing. Nobody seemed to be paying her too much mind, though, so it was okay.
She made circles in the dirt with her shoes. There was a lot of scrubby grass and dead leaves and little tangled weeds to stir around with her feet, but it wasn't particularly satisfying. She also kept noticing bugs crawling or flying around, little pinprick black ants and small flies and a dainty white butterfly and a fat shiny black beetle. Darlene was mostly okay with bugs, like she wouldn't scream like some girls she knew, but she didn't want to look really closely at them or have them touch her. She watched as one of the ants went straight towards her shoes, and danced a quick pair of steps to the side to get out of its way. But there were more ants in her new spot! There were ants all over the place, probably coming from a burrow somewhere nearby. She'd read about ant colonies, a little, and she was pretty sure one community could cover almost a quarter mile. She was pretty sure she'd read that if you combined all the people in the world and all the bugs in the world, the bugs would be heavier than the people by a lot.
To distract herself from the bugs and the boredom, Darlene decided to maybe practice with her gun a little more. Nobody was watching, so nobody would get mad or scared, right? And she wasn't going to shoot it or anything. She used her thumb to pull back the hammer, just like Beryl had shown her. Click, and it was ready to shoot. It was easy!
Darlene stared at the gun for a second.
It occurred to her, all of a sudden and rather belatedly, that she had absolutely no idea how to lower the hammer again, aside from firing the bullet in the chamber, which was what she really thought was not a good idea right now.
Everyone was still talking amongst themselves, and it didn't seem like there were going to be any arguments or really anything Darlene would be needed for in the next minute or two, so she could figure out how to handle this, at least. The manual probably explained it, but she didn't want everyone to think she was totally dumb, and if she pulled out the manual and started flipping through it they'd figure out really quickly that something was up. It would be okay if there was no other choice, but in this case there was!
Beryl was off sort of on her own being ignored too. Darlene still did not fully trust Beryl, but she had been a pretty good teacher and she'd sung along some and she hadn't tried to take anyone's gun away even though she obviously knew her way around them way better than anyone here, so with the general lowering of tension Darlene was okay giving her the benefit of the doubt, at least for the moment. More than that, she had realized over time that Beryl was really weird, which meant she couldn't make fun of Darlene, or if she did she'd be a huge hypocrite.
So Darlene trudged over in that direction, gaze flicking between Beryl to make sure she was still there not doing anything, everyone else to make sure they weren't paying too much attention, and the ground in front of her to make sure she wasn't getting ants on her shoes or, worse, crawling up her legs.
"Um," Darlene said when she was closer, looking up at the much—much! She forgot just how much sometimes!—taller girl and sort of holding the gun in front of her, "I forgot how to turn it off."
She wiggled her thumb at the hammer, to clarify her meaning.
As the unsureness bled away, then, Darlene found it replaced with something else: antsiness and mild boredom. She was positive that the conversations were important, and she was still going to float around near Jonah and the boy the big claw stick just in case something happened or she was needed, but she didn't feel like she had anything to offer to their discussion, and even if she had, she didn't want to say anything. What she really wanted was to sing more, but Darlene knew it annoyed people sometimes and she knew that this was an actual important productive time, so she restrained herself.
With nothing else to do, then, she started to fidget.
First she tucked the revolver awkwardly under her arm and cleaned her glasses. She had cleaned them since the lake, but they'd gotten dusty again just a little and it gave her something to do. She almost dropped the gun, though! That would have been, if not totally terrible, at least pretty embarrassing. Nobody seemed to be paying her too much mind, though, so it was okay.
She made circles in the dirt with her shoes. There was a lot of scrubby grass and dead leaves and little tangled weeds to stir around with her feet, but it wasn't particularly satisfying. She also kept noticing bugs crawling or flying around, little pinprick black ants and small flies and a dainty white butterfly and a fat shiny black beetle. Darlene was mostly okay with bugs, like she wouldn't scream like some girls she knew, but she didn't want to look really closely at them or have them touch her. She watched as one of the ants went straight towards her shoes, and danced a quick pair of steps to the side to get out of its way. But there were more ants in her new spot! There were ants all over the place, probably coming from a burrow somewhere nearby. She'd read about ant colonies, a little, and she was pretty sure one community could cover almost a quarter mile. She was pretty sure she'd read that if you combined all the people in the world and all the bugs in the world, the bugs would be heavier than the people by a lot.
To distract herself from the bugs and the boredom, Darlene decided to maybe practice with her gun a little more. Nobody was watching, so nobody would get mad or scared, right? And she wasn't going to shoot it or anything. She used her thumb to pull back the hammer, just like Beryl had shown her. Click, and it was ready to shoot. It was easy!
Darlene stared at the gun for a second.
It occurred to her, all of a sudden and rather belatedly, that she had absolutely no idea how to lower the hammer again, aside from firing the bullet in the chamber, which was what she really thought was not a good idea right now.
Everyone was still talking amongst themselves, and it didn't seem like there were going to be any arguments or really anything Darlene would be needed for in the next minute or two, so she could figure out how to handle this, at least. The manual probably explained it, but she didn't want everyone to think she was totally dumb, and if she pulled out the manual and started flipping through it they'd figure out really quickly that something was up. It would be okay if there was no other choice, but in this case there was!
Beryl was off sort of on her own being ignored too. Darlene still did not fully trust Beryl, but she had been a pretty good teacher and she'd sung along some and she hadn't tried to take anyone's gun away even though she obviously knew her way around them way better than anyone here, so with the general lowering of tension Darlene was okay giving her the benefit of the doubt, at least for the moment. More than that, she had realized over time that Beryl was really weird, which meant she couldn't make fun of Darlene, or if she did she'd be a huge hypocrite.
So Darlene trudged over in that direction, gaze flicking between Beryl to make sure she was still there not doing anything, everyone else to make sure they weren't paying too much attention, and the ground in front of her to make sure she wasn't getting ants on her shoes or, worse, crawling up her legs.
"Um," Darlene said when she was closer, looking up at the much—much! She forgot just how much sometimes!—taller girl and sort of holding the gun in front of her, "I forgot how to turn it off."
She wiggled her thumb at the hammer, to clarify her meaning.
Black body radiation- little ants, meandering, absorbing radiation from the patchwork sun beams that could meander their way past the leafy canopy overhead. They marched on endlessly, conscious in some way, their intellect emergent as one form of almost shared existence. Behind Beryl a number of human packages existed, distinct, separate from one another.
Then one ant of the many broke from the geometric forms being traced over land and began to crawl up her shoe. She considered it fondly. It would soon be joined by others. Solidarity would be found. Beryl would stand here, still, waiting on the periphery of her own group.
Darlene broke the silence.
Her's was a fleeting spirit, perhaps distracted or nervous, with energy that was written in the many gestures she made that were intended for nobody, the little repetitions with her own feet. Not intended for others, and Beryl wondered if they were even intended for herself. Beryl nodded serenely. Appraised with ample slowness, what Darlene had become in their few hours spent together. Nothing much had changed, nothing of importance anyways. When had she cocked her own gun?
Beryl looked- not down, but merely in the appropriate direction for their eyes to meet. A decline angle. Beryl thought Darlene was rather cute in an oddly unapproachable way. Innocent, like a toy. Somewhat difficult to commit to memory- but for Beryl a lot of material things happened to work along that particular line of anti-inquiry. Darlene's eyes kept finding other places to be- Beryl idly followed the path of her gaze. It was a fairly nice looking patch of ground, if generic in that way. Lightly dusted with motes that glittered as stirred into the air.
"Hmm..." Beryl complacently took stock of the gun pointed right at her chest.
Probably not the right direction to be pointing it, while discussing safe disarming. Beryl would have to mention that. The train of her thought was slow to get going- passengers lazed at their seats, still standing, as it waited in station. Beryl considered that she'd want to get closer, to specifically show with all manner of pointing and gesticulating that might be relevant, how the process worked. She'd explained it before, by Darlene's side, miming the hand gestures with her palms scant inches from Darlene's own. It apparently hadn't stuck! Beryl understood that memories tended to float only briefly, on choppy waves, before sinking into the abyss.
So Beryl figured she could try some other tack- Darlene might have been more of a listener than a watcher in the classroom? The classroom Beryl had never seen a Darlene in, in four years worth of classrooms?
"Okay, so...! Hm" Beryl did make hand gestures, but they were arcane shapes, the golden ratio's worth of needless spinning about to get the gears in her head similarly turning. "You have to hold onto the hammer, very important-" Beryl picked then to take a long breath and pause and listen to her own awkwardly two step heartbeat- "and then, thereafter. Hammer, keep holding the hammer. Finger on the trigger. Pull it, then the weight will like, drop. You have to let it drop. Keep holding." She could envision it perfectly in her head. "Then it's dropping. Pressure dropping, like... uh, like a cold front. I think that's the right one- and then the hammer hits. But it hits the guard, because you let the trigger go."
Beryl nodded sagely.
"Understand?"
Then one ant of the many broke from the geometric forms being traced over land and began to crawl up her shoe. She considered it fondly. It would soon be joined by others. Solidarity would be found. Beryl would stand here, still, waiting on the periphery of her own group.
Darlene broke the silence.
Her's was a fleeting spirit, perhaps distracted or nervous, with energy that was written in the many gestures she made that were intended for nobody, the little repetitions with her own feet. Not intended for others, and Beryl wondered if they were even intended for herself. Beryl nodded serenely. Appraised with ample slowness, what Darlene had become in their few hours spent together. Nothing much had changed, nothing of importance anyways. When had she cocked her own gun?
Beryl looked- not down, but merely in the appropriate direction for their eyes to meet. A decline angle. Beryl thought Darlene was rather cute in an oddly unapproachable way. Innocent, like a toy. Somewhat difficult to commit to memory- but for Beryl a lot of material things happened to work along that particular line of anti-inquiry. Darlene's eyes kept finding other places to be- Beryl idly followed the path of her gaze. It was a fairly nice looking patch of ground, if generic in that way. Lightly dusted with motes that glittered as stirred into the air.
"Hmm..." Beryl complacently took stock of the gun pointed right at her chest.
Probably not the right direction to be pointing it, while discussing safe disarming. Beryl would have to mention that. The train of her thought was slow to get going- passengers lazed at their seats, still standing, as it waited in station. Beryl considered that she'd want to get closer, to specifically show with all manner of pointing and gesticulating that might be relevant, how the process worked. She'd explained it before, by Darlene's side, miming the hand gestures with her palms scant inches from Darlene's own. It apparently hadn't stuck! Beryl understood that memories tended to float only briefly, on choppy waves, before sinking into the abyss.
So Beryl figured she could try some other tack- Darlene might have been more of a listener than a watcher in the classroom? The classroom Beryl had never seen a Darlene in, in four years worth of classrooms?
"Okay, so...! Hm" Beryl did make hand gestures, but they were arcane shapes, the golden ratio's worth of needless spinning about to get the gears in her head similarly turning. "You have to hold onto the hammer, very important-" Beryl picked then to take a long breath and pause and listen to her own awkwardly two step heartbeat- "and then, thereafter. Hammer, keep holding the hammer. Finger on the trigger. Pull it, then the weight will like, drop. You have to let it drop. Keep holding." She could envision it perfectly in her head. "Then it's dropping. Pressure dropping, like... uh, like a cold front. I think that's the right one- and then the hammer hits. But it hits the guard, because you let the trigger go."
Beryl nodded sagely.
"Understand?"
V8 Vibes:
V7 Vibes:
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MurderWeasel
- Posts: 2566
- Joined: Thu Aug 09, 2018 1:37 am
"Yeah," Darlene said, "yeah, I think so. Thanks."
She sort of understood! Mostly! This was ringing some bells now, this was something she'd actually been walked through before. She had just been so busy with the shooting and the aiming and the singing that she hadn't really internalized it, especially because the process had just been described to her, not actually physically practiced. It hadn't mattered in the moment, because she'd shot all the bullets in the gun. Then, empty, it hadn't been dangerous at all. Maybe they had been planning to practice it later? Maybe she hadn't been supposed to reload? But that was okay. It was not super involved.
How it worked was basically this: there was no special way to undo the cocking of the revolver. Instead, you just held the hammer and pulled the trigger and eased it down carefully, like shooting but you controlled it so it was in slow motion. There was also an in-between spot you could put the hammer, like sort of halfway there, but Darlene did not understand the utility of that at all, and if someone had explained it to her she couldn't remember now.
She was nodding and staring at the gun as she listened to Beryl's strange and complicated explanation and visualized the process in her head. The girl made it sound like it was really in depth, but it wasn't, right? It was just like what Darlene had come up with on her own: you make the gun shoot in slow motion and that makes it not go off. Even she could do that and not mess it up, no problem.
Darlene rested her thumb loosely on the hammer and pulled the trigger.
The metal nub skipped cheerfully out from under her digit and struck home.
She kept hold, somehow, but her wrist was wrenched as the weapon lurched in her hand. That didn't matter, though, or did, but also it didn't. Other things were a lot more important right now.
The sound of the fire had somehow seemed louder than even the discharge of Henry's monstrous improvised cannon. Darlene stared for half a second, and then burst into tears.
She sort of understood! Mostly! This was ringing some bells now, this was something she'd actually been walked through before. She had just been so busy with the shooting and the aiming and the singing that she hadn't really internalized it, especially because the process had just been described to her, not actually physically practiced. It hadn't mattered in the moment, because she'd shot all the bullets in the gun. Then, empty, it hadn't been dangerous at all. Maybe they had been planning to practice it later? Maybe she hadn't been supposed to reload? But that was okay. It was not super involved.
How it worked was basically this: there was no special way to undo the cocking of the revolver. Instead, you just held the hammer and pulled the trigger and eased it down carefully, like shooting but you controlled it so it was in slow motion. There was also an in-between spot you could put the hammer, like sort of halfway there, but Darlene did not understand the utility of that at all, and if someone had explained it to her she couldn't remember now.
She was nodding and staring at the gun as she listened to Beryl's strange and complicated explanation and visualized the process in her head. The girl made it sound like it was really in depth, but it wasn't, right? It was just like what Darlene had come up with on her own: you make the gun shoot in slow motion and that makes it not go off. Even she could do that and not mess it up, no problem.
Darlene rested her thumb loosely on the hammer and pulled the trigger.
The metal nub skipped cheerfully out from under her digit and struck home.
She kept hold, somehow, but her wrist was wrenched as the weapon lurched in her hand. That didn't matter, though, or did, but also it didn't. Other things were a lot more important right now.
The sound of the fire had somehow seemed louder than even the discharge of Henry's monstrous improvised cannon. Darlene stared for half a second, and then burst into tears.
Beryl wasn't afraid of the roar of the gun. Lion loud, kitty soft. She was almost happy to hear it. Still smiling, as bits of herself were irreparably broken.
She watched Darlene, and the others beyond. Something happened to them, they all in that moment changed. She did too- of course she did, she just needed a moment for her own mortality to catch up with her. The sky was shyly saying hello, creeping on her from behind. Above. Somewhere in some direction- she couldn't tell. Suddenly dizzy. The world was spinning and violently throwing itself at her. Everything moved in the wrong direction.
She was only falling gently.
She could easily have taken a step, single and measly, to stop herself. Her legs, rather, reminded her of her close encounters with sleep. Lead.
She noted the odd sensation, distracting as it was. Legs might as well have been chopped off. They were empty weight. Actually- everything. Suddenly she couldn't move. Gravity moved her instead, and she hit the ground unceremoniously. The back of her skull bounced once, her head rolled to one side. Settled askew, her neck twisted like a meaty chew.
There was the pain, of course, radiating out from her ribs. Someone had casually taken an ice cream scoop to her, and the rest of her was also melting away into... the ground? Ants? Sensations almost too random, she couldn't focus on anything. Her nerves fired ghosts of sensation. Through the gut, through the heart, someone had flayed her alive. Could have been all those things at once. She could have screamed but she had no voice left to scream with- or. When she tried, nothing came out but some odd noise.
Her eyes blurred with tears, briefly. One rolled away, then she stared, blank. Alert. She was still here.
She didn't want to be here. Not anymore.
Somewhere else.
...
((Optional Reading. Each link followed by an ellipses is a pair of links. The ellipses marks an 'edit' of the original post.))
She could hear them coming closer.
She watched Darlene, and the others beyond. Something happened to them, they all in that moment changed. She did too- of course she did, she just needed a moment for her own mortality to catch up with her. The sky was shyly saying hello, creeping on her from behind. Above. Somewhere in some direction- she couldn't tell. Suddenly dizzy. The world was spinning and violently throwing itself at her. Everything moved in the wrong direction.
She was only falling gently.
She could easily have taken a step, single and measly, to stop herself. Her legs, rather, reminded her of her close encounters with sleep. Lead.
She noted the odd sensation, distracting as it was. Legs might as well have been chopped off. They were empty weight. Actually- everything. Suddenly she couldn't move. Gravity moved her instead, and she hit the ground unceremoniously. The back of her skull bounced once, her head rolled to one side. Settled askew, her neck twisted like a meaty chew.
There was the pain, of course, radiating out from her ribs. Someone had casually taken an ice cream scoop to her, and the rest of her was also melting away into... the ground? Ants? Sensations almost too random, she couldn't focus on anything. Her nerves fired ghosts of sensation. Through the gut, through the heart, someone had flayed her alive. Could have been all those things at once. She could have screamed but she had no voice left to scream with- or. When she tried, nothing came out but some odd noise.
Her eyes blurred with tears, briefly. One rolled away, then she stared, blank. Alert. She was still here.
She didn't want to be here. Not anymore.
Somewhere else.
...
((Optional Reading. Each link followed by an ellipses is a pair of links. The ellipses marks an 'edit' of the original post.))
She could hear them coming closer.
V8 Vibes:
V7 Vibes:
There had been some perfect combination of words that would let him have one of the walkie-talkies. Taking a look at them was imperative, because of the otherwise total absence of radio technology on the island outside of the one hundred and fifty-nine bomb collars. Within the guts of those devices might've been the solution to the ultimate problem they all faced. If he could just persuade her to help him, he might have had a chance to help everyone.
Then Henry heard a gunshot, and the devices in Camilla's hands suddenly seemed to matter a whole lot less. He whirled around, the BFG proving as difficult to wield as ever, his eyes widening as he scanned the scene that had unfolded behind him.
"BERYL!"
Henry ran to her, casting his bag down beside Beryl and laying his own weapon down beside him. Wasting no time, he nearly tore open his duffle bag looking for the first-aid kit they had all been provided. Henry could hear the sounds of panic coming from behind him; the sound Beryl's shirt made as he tore it open; the crinkling noise coming from the plastic packaging on the sterile gauze; and a persistent ringing noise left by Darlene's catastrophic incompetence.
None of it seemed to register as the only sound that truly caught his attention was the harsh rattle that came from Beryl's throat, joined in a chorus with a sickening sputter coming from the hole in her chest. Henry felt nauseated as he saw a pink foam begin to emerge from the hole, before being sucked back in by Beryl's staccato, rasping attempts to take breath. They locked eyes for a moment, Henry momentarily frozen by the pleading look she gave him.
"It's going to be okay. I know what to do, I can fix this. We just solve one problem and then another, we just..."
Thinking quickly, he searched his bag for his wallet. Producing the first card he was able to - his student ID card - he pressed it over the wound, followed by a large wad of gauze. It had to form a seal or her lungs would collapse. Only, he didn't know what that would look like. He'd only ever read about things like this. Did they have to drain something from the wound, or keep it closed? What about the bullet? Did they move her to see if it went out the other side, or not?
"Okay, we'll just keep that right there, alright Beryl? You're not alone, okay? You're not alone. I'll do whatever it takes, you'll be alright."
Grabbing hold of her hands, he pressed them on top of the gauze. If he made her focus on something, it'd distract her from the pain. Force her to stay awake.
Solve the problem. Fix this.
Slow the bleeding.
Assess the wound.
Remove the bullet.
Seal it up.
Work the problem.
"Just... just hold that tight, okay?"
As Henry moved to reach back into the medical kit, her hands fell from the gauze and blood began to seep from the wound once more.
"Shit!"
Without any other option, he grabbed the wad of bandages and pressed them back to her chest. Someone else had to come help. Then he could keep solving problems. Then he could keep Beryl alive. They had to find a way to keep her awake, if she kept passing out like this-
"No. Oh, God no."
To his shock and horror, Beryl was still very much awake. Which meant her arms didn't go limp the way they did because she'd passed out. She had no control over them to begin with. The bullet had to have struck her spinal column. Beryl was paralyzed.
There was no solving this problem. No way to save her.
His hands held tightly against the bloody mess of bandages, Henry wept.
Then Henry heard a gunshot, and the devices in Camilla's hands suddenly seemed to matter a whole lot less. He whirled around, the BFG proving as difficult to wield as ever, his eyes widening as he scanned the scene that had unfolded behind him.
"BERYL!"
Henry ran to her, casting his bag down beside Beryl and laying his own weapon down beside him. Wasting no time, he nearly tore open his duffle bag looking for the first-aid kit they had all been provided. Henry could hear the sounds of panic coming from behind him; the sound Beryl's shirt made as he tore it open; the crinkling noise coming from the plastic packaging on the sterile gauze; and a persistent ringing noise left by Darlene's catastrophic incompetence.
None of it seemed to register as the only sound that truly caught his attention was the harsh rattle that came from Beryl's throat, joined in a chorus with a sickening sputter coming from the hole in her chest. Henry felt nauseated as he saw a pink foam begin to emerge from the hole, before being sucked back in by Beryl's staccato, rasping attempts to take breath. They locked eyes for a moment, Henry momentarily frozen by the pleading look she gave him.
"It's going to be okay. I know what to do, I can fix this. We just solve one problem and then another, we just..."
Thinking quickly, he searched his bag for his wallet. Producing the first card he was able to - his student ID card - he pressed it over the wound, followed by a large wad of gauze. It had to form a seal or her lungs would collapse. Only, he didn't know what that would look like. He'd only ever read about things like this. Did they have to drain something from the wound, or keep it closed? What about the bullet? Did they move her to see if it went out the other side, or not?
"Okay, we'll just keep that right there, alright Beryl? You're not alone, okay? You're not alone. I'll do whatever it takes, you'll be alright."
Grabbing hold of her hands, he pressed them on top of the gauze. If he made her focus on something, it'd distract her from the pain. Force her to stay awake.
Solve the problem. Fix this.
Slow the bleeding.
Assess the wound.
Remove the bullet.
Seal it up.
Work the problem.
"Just... just hold that tight, okay?"
As Henry moved to reach back into the medical kit, her hands fell from the gauze and blood began to seep from the wound once more.
"Shit!"
Without any other option, he grabbed the wad of bandages and pressed them back to her chest. Someone else had to come help. Then he could keep solving problems. Then he could keep Beryl alive. They had to find a way to keep her awake, if she kept passing out like this-
"No. Oh, God no."
To his shock and horror, Beryl was still very much awake. Which meant her arms didn't go limp the way they did because she'd passed out. She had no control over them to begin with. The bullet had to have struck her spinal column. Beryl was paralyzed.
There was no solving this problem. No way to save her.
His hands held tightly against the bloody mess of bandages, Henry wept.
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MethodicalSlacker
- Posts: 1231
- Joined: Tue Aug 14, 2018 2:18 am
- Location: Here And There Along The Echo
- Contact:
Max's first thought, upon hearing the gunshot, was that the group had resumed their target practice. It was a convenient and unassuming explanation for what he had just heard, the sonic explosion that had made him flinch and raise a hand to his ear in delayed protection of his hearing. Was this group so disorganized as to not warn individuals on the premise when the discharge of live firearms was about to resume? Max would need to have a word. He turned towards the source of the gunfire with a reprimand on his li—
Oh.
Before he could think, he was already running in Darlene's general direction—curving to the side, slightly, of Darlene's gun arm, not taking her head-on, not stupid enough to do so, a subtle zig-zag ready to turn an extreme swerve should she lift the firearm in his direction—man-catcher maw pointed towards her like the end of a spear. Max knew full well that the implement in his hands was non-lethal, but currently his purpose was not to wholly repay the transgression Darlene had caused. He knew her name, and her number, and knew it had not come up quite yet, because for all he could surmise in the brief moments between his speaking to Jonah and his hold on Darlene was that the scene before him was the scene of an accident.
Nevertheless, he had to ensure this was the last one. The final mistake that this individual would perchance to make.
Max ran up from Darlene's side and thrust his man-catcher forward, grabbed Darlene's arm, and yanked it towards the ground.
Oh.
Before he could think, he was already running in Darlene's general direction—curving to the side, slightly, of Darlene's gun arm, not taking her head-on, not stupid enough to do so, a subtle zig-zag ready to turn an extreme swerve should she lift the firearm in his direction—man-catcher maw pointed towards her like the end of a spear. Max knew full well that the implement in his hands was non-lethal, but currently his purpose was not to wholly repay the transgression Darlene had caused. He knew her name, and her number, and knew it had not come up quite yet, because for all he could surmise in the brief moments between his speaking to Jonah and his hold on Darlene was that the scene before him was the scene of an accident.
Nevertheless, he had to ensure this was the last one. The final mistake that this individual would perchance to make.
Max ran up from Darlene's side and thrust his man-catcher forward, grabbed Darlene's arm, and yanked it towards the ground.
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TheLordOfAwesome
- Posts: 489
- Joined: Mon Aug 13, 2018 4:37 pm
- Location: Washington
Lucas shifted around as he stood back and took in the proceedings. He really didn't have much to add into the conversations going on at present and was more than fine with letting Max and Camilla do whatever talking was needed. He'd probably move over closer to Beryl and hit her up with a conversation once things get settled in with the two groups. After all, she was the one her knew the most out of every-
A gunshot snapped Lucas out of his thoughts, his heart rate decelerated as he turned to face the source of the sound, pointing his shotgun at it. He saw Beryl fall backwards, and for a brief moment it felt as though time slowed to a crawl as he watched her fall to the hard Earth below. Once she collided with the ground it was as though time had resumed its proper speed and there was a flurry of movement around him.
"Oh Jesus, NO!!"
Lucas for his part rushed over to Beryl's side where Henry was already attending to her, placing King Ghidorah on the ground next to him.
"Oh God, oh God! Beryl! Jesus!" Lucas exclaimed as he looked over her, his hands just hovering in the air above her, useless.
What was he suppose to do?!
What was he suppose to do?!
Henry was doing something to help, but what was he suppose to do?!
A gunshot snapped Lucas out of his thoughts, his heart rate decelerated as he turned to face the source of the sound, pointing his shotgun at it. He saw Beryl fall backwards, and for a brief moment it felt as though time slowed to a crawl as he watched her fall to the hard Earth below. Once she collided with the ground it was as though time had resumed its proper speed and there was a flurry of movement around him.
"Oh Jesus, NO!!"
Lucas for his part rushed over to Beryl's side where Henry was already attending to her, placing King Ghidorah on the ground next to him.
"Oh God, oh God! Beryl! Jesus!" Lucas exclaimed as he looked over her, his hands just hovering in the air above her, useless.
What was he suppose to do?!
What was he suppose to do?!
Henry was doing something to help, but what was he suppose to do?!
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BlizzardeyeWonder
- Posts: 682
- Joined: Mon Aug 13, 2018 3:41 pm
- Location: The Zone™
Camilla had already felt uneasy. Henry was... nice and all, but it felt like he had an agenda. Maybe that's what she gets for never talking to people though. Surely, he wouldn't do anything bad, right? She was probably just being paranoid.
After all, it turned out Henry was the least of her problems.
Her eyes widened, her ears rang, soaking in the nightmarish scene. Everything was a blur- When Beryl fell out of her vision all she saw was Darlene with the gun, there was sobbing, and she finally saw the man-catcher in action. She thought it would shoot the spiked thing, but she was being dumb again, it was more like a garbage picker upper. There was shouting, sobbing, Lucas and Henry were on the ground by Beryl. There was blood- blood and something else, almost like fresh roadkill. It made her cover her mouth, to prevent the retching from turning her insides out, as she took a step back.
She should have said something.
Her hand let go of the walkie-talkie she held.
When did she ever say what she should have said?
Instead, she fled.
[Camilla Bell continued in Signal to Noise]
After all, it turned out Henry was the least of her problems.
Her eyes widened, her ears rang, soaking in the nightmarish scene. Everything was a blur- When Beryl fell out of her vision all she saw was Darlene with the gun, there was sobbing, and she finally saw the man-catcher in action. She thought it would shoot the spiked thing, but she was being dumb again, it was more like a garbage picker upper. There was shouting, sobbing, Lucas and Henry were on the ground by Beryl. There was blood- blood and something else, almost like fresh roadkill. It made her cover her mouth, to prevent the retching from turning her insides out, as she took a step back.
She should have said something.
Her hand let go of the walkie-talkie she held.
When did she ever say what she should have said?
Instead, she fled.
[Camilla Bell continued in Signal to Noise]
"No sun to rise would be okay with me... Everyday, every day is okay"
"A voice in her head, a voice in her head, screaming all the words that were left unsaid"
"A voice in her head, a voice in her head, screaming all the words that were left unsaid"