((Faith Clementine Marshal-Mackenzie continued from You Never Said Goodbye))
Maybe they had been onto something, Faith thought, as she stared up at the sky with bloodshot eyes.
She hadn't slept at all last night. Even after she'd walked until she couldn't walk any more, her legs screaming at her even more than usual, and collapsed somewhere in the darkness of the night in exhaustion. She'd cried then, out of frustration, and misery, mumbling weary protestations to a God that had abandoned her like everyone else.
Faith kicked her legs back and forth in the water, the cold bite of it seeming far more real than the memories of the night before that felt almost dreamlike, as the splashing of water from her movements felt like it echoed in the silence.
She remembered how unfair it had felt. How alone she had felt. Cursing everyone for abandoning her, all her friends, all the people she'd thought would be there through thick and thin but had vanished when she'd needed them the most. She hadn't even had the chance to see them alive. Abel, Wyatt, Mercy, Meilin, Demetri, Beryl, all gone. She had almost cursed Dante, before remembering that that was her fault, the friend she'd abandoned. The friend she'd let die. That had hurt even more.
Faith took in a deep breath, and let it out, her expression flat as she continued to stare into the cloud mottled blue above her.
After that, she had prayed, for the first time in a few years. Begged for help, guidance, anything, something. She was greeted with the same response that had always come to her. Nothing. Then she had sat there, resting her back against the stump of a tree, and waited. When dawn broke, she had forced herself to get up, and walk - The scythe in her hand making a firm thud into the ground with every step, serving more as a walking stick than anything else.
Faith turned her head to the side a little to look over at where it was now, leaning against the chair upon which her shoes and socks sat, as if to make sure it hadn't run away.
Faith smiled at that thought, imagining it sprouting little wooden legs in order to escape her presence, and then turned her head back to resume staring at the sky.
It was serene here. Whoever had lived here before had got that right, at least.
Hell and You
Day 7, before announcements. Open.
-
Frozen Smoke
- Posts: 533
- Joined: Mon Aug 13, 2018 3:50 pm
- Location: Where I need to be
Hell and You
Criticism or thoughts on my writing are welcome and appreciated - always looking to improve! Feel free to poke me on Discord or via PM.
Several of the bushes rustled menacingly in the non-existent breeze.
((And suddenly, out popped the remnants of the Gucci Gang as they approached Faith on the shoreline with a purpose.))
So like, here's the what what. ((TAZED AND CONFUSED)) missed fucking everything as usual, so it was basically up to Yuka to fill her in on the deets.
1) Roxie was p much dead, gone too soon, God rest her soul, etc.
2) Mikey-boy was missing. Hopped on outta there. Straight up ghosted.
3) Katrina was still kickin' in, probably with those other hoes too so like, maybe not the ideal person to get get until they can deal with Sierra and her gun.
4) Yuka was bleeding a lil bit, but like... homegirl could deal with that. GIRL could suck on a titty but she wasn't gonna suck on no nubs because that was nasty. But she seemed fine-ish, like physically. Mentally... eh. But that's the Gucci Gang way, baby!
But regardless, yeah. Gucci Gang shenanigans gotta be put on hold for a bit til they find their guy-con. Though at first Yuka was all like "Girl he ain't do nothing for us just forget it" but then GIRL was all like "OMG we need that gun tho plus it'd suck if like he was dying and shit before we could find him" but then she was all like "Girl we ain't gonna run around this hot ass island looking for one guy" but then GIRL was all like "We gotta find Erika anyway tho" and then girl was all like "Tru, tru," though honestly GIRL wanted to be like "OMG Yuka u right let's just pop these pills and pop our pussies" but like that was kinda not the time on Murder Island.
Anyway yeah, that was that on that.
So they just wandered and vibed for a bit and somehow circled back around to the lake where the magic all started. Or not the lake but like the metal cage thingy. You know what she meant.
Reuben was still chillin like a villain a bit away, but more importantly Faith was hanging out looking all sad and pensive and having lots of Emotions but like omg maybe she knew something and she didn't look like she had a real weapon on her so it ain't like she really had an upper hand here if things went to shit which like let's be real here it always fucking did but ANYWAY
NEEDLE GUN GIRL stayed in front with the weird needle gun thing loosely gripped in her hands that Yuka copped from Willow and looked all like "don't test us you we ain't here to kill but we gonna fuck you up if you try something you jiggly cumslut" as she approached.
"Yo," she said or like shouted or whatever, "you seen Michael run by here? The little frog fucker did a runner on us."
((And suddenly, out popped the remnants of the Gucci Gang as they approached Faith on the shoreline with a purpose.))
So like, here's the what what. ((TAZED AND CONFUSED)) missed fucking everything as usual, so it was basically up to Yuka to fill her in on the deets.
1) Roxie was p much dead, gone too soon, God rest her soul, etc.
2) Mikey-boy was missing. Hopped on outta there. Straight up ghosted.
3) Katrina was still kickin' in, probably with those other hoes too so like, maybe not the ideal person to get get until they can deal with Sierra and her gun.
4) Yuka was bleeding a lil bit, but like... homegirl could deal with that. GIRL could suck on a titty but she wasn't gonna suck on no nubs because that was nasty. But she seemed fine-ish, like physically. Mentally... eh. But that's the Gucci Gang way, baby!
But regardless, yeah. Gucci Gang shenanigans gotta be put on hold for a bit til they find their guy-con. Though at first Yuka was all like "Girl he ain't do nothing for us just forget it" but then GIRL was all like "OMG we need that gun tho plus it'd suck if like he was dying and shit before we could find him" but then she was all like "Girl we ain't gonna run around this hot ass island looking for one guy" but then GIRL was all like "We gotta find Erika anyway tho" and then girl was all like "Tru, tru," though honestly GIRL wanted to be like "OMG Yuka u right let's just pop these pills and pop our pussies" but like that was kinda not the time on Murder Island.
Anyway yeah, that was that on that.
So they just wandered and vibed for a bit and somehow circled back around to the lake where the magic all started. Or not the lake but like the metal cage thingy. You know what she meant.
Reuben was still chillin like a villain a bit away, but more importantly Faith was hanging out looking all sad and pensive and having lots of Emotions but like omg maybe she knew something and she didn't look like she had a real weapon on her so it ain't like she really had an upper hand here if things went to shit which like let's be real here it always fucking did but ANYWAY
NEEDLE GUN GIRL stayed in front with the weird needle gun thing loosely gripped in her hands that Yuka copped from Willow and looked all like "don't test us you we ain't here to kill but we gonna fuck you up if you try something you jiggly cumslut" as she approached.
"Yo," she said or like shouted or whatever, "you seen Michael run by here? The little frog fucker did a runner on us."
((Yuka Hayashibara continues from Party Like It's 1999))
Yuka followed Teresa along the dirt paths of the island, walking in her newly heel-less shoes. She'd snapped them off, bent the shoes flat to make the trek easier. She couldn't fucking believe she was fucking sacrificing her shoes for Mickey, murderer, hypocrite, overall piece of shit, etc., but he diiiid have a gun according to Teresa, so. Once they found him, they could borrow it from him without permission, shoot out his kneecaps, spit on him, call him a bitch, and consider that adequate payment for everything he was putting them through. She hadn't brought that up with Teresa yet, but she assumed it was implied, you know.
He sure was making them work for it, though, having them walk through this tropical heat. Teresa and Yuka had tried to wile away the time by trading barbs at each other, the weather, the local population of mosquitoes feasting on their blood, anything that came into the one (1) brain cell they mutually shared. When they tired of that, they tried to come up with other ways to call Mickey a bitch when they found him, because you could only use a word so many times before it lost its meaning. Pussy, bitch, coward, frog (she wasn't sure how Teresa came up with that one, but it fit), incel, creep, pussy bitch, coward bitch, coward frog, frogfucker, jellyfishfucker, and all the various permutations of four and five-letter words they could think of, which, again, given the one (1) brain cell and the heat, weren't much. They tired of that too.
And after came the silence. The air, smothering everything, even the very words that came out of their mouth.
It shouldn't have bothered Yuka so much. She'd been comfortable with silence before. Like that time they'd walked home after Swiftball. Then again, they'd been drunk, and everything had felt funnier, sillier, happier back then. before. She'd seen a leaning stop sign halfway through their midnight journey and had just doubled over in laughter because, like, look at it, it's not upright, it's about to fall over! It's just! Hanging on for dear life! And it sounded so mundane and boring now but it had been hilarious then, right?
She hovered the remnants of her left hand over her right hand. It was odd. If she closed her eyes, she could almost swear her fingers were still there. She could imagine, almost feel them wiggling. But, her eyes stayed open, so she focused on the gaps, where there had been none before. On the nubs covered in gauze. Blood loss was supposed to leave you feeling drunk, right? She had a feeling that had been mentioned in biology, the first aid unit, but she wasn't sure. Who gave a fuck anyways, yeah?
After that moment passed, after she tired at looking at what wasn't there anymore, her mind drifted to another memory, because memories were all she had to fill in the silence. She could have focused on the trees, but she'd seen more than enough of them after spending entire days, years there, looking for someone that also wasn't there anymore. So, she let her mind drift, and it landed less than two weeks ago, in a hotel in Washington DC. And in one of the rooms was Violet Q., sitting cross-legged on a bed, browsing through her phone, just as Yuka was. The pillow molded to her head, the bed cover felt itchy against her skin, and yet she didn't move because she felt at peace in her current position, and it wasn't perfect, but it was nice, and that was enough. She didn't remember the feeling now, but she remembered that she had felt it at some point in the past. A memory of a memory. And Roxie had walked through the door, bringing in a few bags of McDonald's. A blast of warm, humid air from outside followed, and Yuka had actually welcomed it because someone had set the air conditioner to 68 degrees, and Yuka had intended to cover herself up with a blanket, but she hadn't because she was fine enough.
The moment meant nothing. She only remembered it because she had told herself to commit it to memory, and she had. Good for past her. Maybe back then she'd intended on preserving some trace of her ordinary boring high-school life in its last days, before it changed. Back when change meant moving a few hundred miles for college, and not... this.
The moment was the last time she had given any thought to Roxie. One of her closest friends, one of her closest collaborators when it came to make-up. It was the last time before the moments of her death.
The knife stayed in the hem of her skirt. She'd held it in her hands for a moment, but she liked swinging her arms whenever she walked, and whenever she did, it felt likesquish
She held her left hand over her right hand again. Considered pinching the nubs, setting the nerves aflame once more.
Fuuuuckkk thaaaaaat.
Right now, it was True Vibing Hours with Teresa Rojas, and the closing time was set for Never.
"Hey! Hey! I thought of another name! Goatfucker!"
It didn't completely gel or make sense because Mickey didn't really have any associations with goats, but why put any thought into it, right? And she didn't remember if Teresa answered or not, but it didn't matter because a few seconds or minutes later, some girl showed up in the distance, and maybe she knew where Mickey D. was, they whispered to one another. So, they sneaked on over, slid into a bush, chilled, vibed for a few minutes until it just Felt Right, and then Yuka let Teresa do her thing because she was more experienced with this stuff. And then Yuka followed up.
"Yeah, we got some unfinished business with frog boy, so any info would really be appreciated."
That scythe would also most definitely be appreciated, T-B-H. Might have to hold off a bit, though, think things through. She only had so many fingers she could lose.
Ha. Not so funny, really, but who gave a fuck? Not her.
Yuka followed Teresa along the dirt paths of the island, walking in her newly heel-less shoes. She'd snapped them off, bent the shoes flat to make the trek easier. She couldn't fucking believe she was fucking sacrificing her shoes for Mickey, murderer, hypocrite, overall piece of shit, etc., but he diiiid have a gun according to Teresa, so. Once they found him, they could borrow it from him without permission, shoot out his kneecaps, spit on him, call him a bitch, and consider that adequate payment for everything he was putting them through. She hadn't brought that up with Teresa yet, but she assumed it was implied, you know.
He sure was making them work for it, though, having them walk through this tropical heat. Teresa and Yuka had tried to wile away the time by trading barbs at each other, the weather, the local population of mosquitoes feasting on their blood, anything that came into the one (1) brain cell they mutually shared. When they tired of that, they tried to come up with other ways to call Mickey a bitch when they found him, because you could only use a word so many times before it lost its meaning. Pussy, bitch, coward, frog (she wasn't sure how Teresa came up with that one, but it fit), incel, creep, pussy bitch, coward bitch, coward frog, frogfucker, jellyfishfucker, and all the various permutations of four and five-letter words they could think of, which, again, given the one (1) brain cell and the heat, weren't much. They tired of that too.
And after came the silence. The air, smothering everything, even the very words that came out of their mouth.
It shouldn't have bothered Yuka so much. She'd been comfortable with silence before. Like that time they'd walked home after Swiftball. Then again, they'd been drunk, and everything had felt funnier, sillier, happier back then. before. She'd seen a leaning stop sign halfway through their midnight journey and had just doubled over in laughter because, like, look at it, it's not upright, it's about to fall over! It's just! Hanging on for dear life! And it sounded so mundane and boring now but it had been hilarious then, right?
She hovered the remnants of her left hand over her right hand. It was odd. If she closed her eyes, she could almost swear her fingers were still there. She could imagine, almost feel them wiggling. But, her eyes stayed open, so she focused on the gaps, where there had been none before. On the nubs covered in gauze. Blood loss was supposed to leave you feeling drunk, right? She had a feeling that had been mentioned in biology, the first aid unit, but she wasn't sure. Who gave a fuck anyways, yeah?
After that moment passed, after she tired at looking at what wasn't there anymore, her mind drifted to another memory, because memories were all she had to fill in the silence. She could have focused on the trees, but she'd seen more than enough of them after spending entire days, years there, looking for someone that also wasn't there anymore. So, she let her mind drift, and it landed less than two weeks ago, in a hotel in Washington DC. And in one of the rooms was Violet Q., sitting cross-legged on a bed, browsing through her phone, just as Yuka was. The pillow molded to her head, the bed cover felt itchy against her skin, and yet she didn't move because she felt at peace in her current position, and it wasn't perfect, but it was nice, and that was enough. She didn't remember the feeling now, but she remembered that she had felt it at some point in the past. A memory of a memory. And Roxie had walked through the door, bringing in a few bags of McDonald's. A blast of warm, humid air from outside followed, and Yuka had actually welcomed it because someone had set the air conditioner to 68 degrees, and Yuka had intended to cover herself up with a blanket, but she hadn't because she was fine enough.
The moment meant nothing. She only remembered it because she had told herself to commit it to memory, and she had. Good for past her. Maybe back then she'd intended on preserving some trace of her ordinary boring high-school life in its last days, before it changed. Back when change meant moving a few hundred miles for college, and not... this.
The moment was the last time she had given any thought to Roxie. One of her closest friends, one of her closest collaborators when it came to make-up. It was the last time before the moments of her death.
The knife stayed in the hem of her skirt. She'd held it in her hands for a moment, but she liked swinging her arms whenever she walked, and whenever she did, it felt likesquish
She held her left hand over her right hand again. Considered pinching the nubs, setting the nerves aflame once more.
Fuuuuckkk thaaaaaat.
Right now, it was True Vibing Hours with Teresa Rojas, and the closing time was set for Never.
"Hey! Hey! I thought of another name! Goatfucker!"
It didn't completely gel or make sense because Mickey didn't really have any associations with goats, but why put any thought into it, right? And she didn't remember if Teresa answered or not, but it didn't matter because a few seconds or minutes later, some girl showed up in the distance, and maybe she knew where Mickey D. was, they whispered to one another. So, they sneaked on over, slid into a bush, chilled, vibed for a few minutes until it just Felt Right, and then Yuka let Teresa do her thing because she was more experienced with this stuff. And then Yuka followed up.
"Yeah, we got some unfinished business with frog boy, so any info would really be appreciated."
That scythe would also most definitely be appreciated, T-B-H. Might have to hold off a bit, though, think things through. She only had so many fingers she could lose.
Ha. Not so funny, really, but who gave a fuck? Not her.
-
Frozen Smoke
- Posts: 533
- Joined: Mon Aug 13, 2018 3:50 pm
- Location: Where I need to be
Was serene.
Past tense, now.
Faith breathed out through her nose in momentary frustration as the pair of voices cut through her thoughts, the jumble of words coming from them taking a few moments to arrange themselves in an order that made sense, like her mind was tuned in between two different radio stations. She brought her hand up and placed it against her forhead, keeping the sun out of her eyes as she rolled her head to look up at them, squinting slightly as her eyes adjusted to something other than blue as they stood there all tall and sideways.
"No, I ain't."
Michael was a name she couldn't attach a face to, or any details, but she felt like she'd heard of him. Not through a friend of a friend or something, but like she'd asked what his name was once to be polite. He was tall, and gangly, right? Either way, she hadn't seen anyone since the morning of yesterday, so it wasn't like she needed to know that.
"Why you calling him a frog? He French or something?"
Faith wasn't sure why that seemed like the most pressing question, but it was the one that first came to mind, and thus the first one that escaped her lips. The confusion was clear on her voice though, and probably her face too, but that felt numb. Was her face getting a sunburn? That would just be the icing on the cake.
Past tense, now.
Faith breathed out through her nose in momentary frustration as the pair of voices cut through her thoughts, the jumble of words coming from them taking a few moments to arrange themselves in an order that made sense, like her mind was tuned in between two different radio stations. She brought her hand up and placed it against her forhead, keeping the sun out of her eyes as she rolled her head to look up at them, squinting slightly as her eyes adjusted to something other than blue as they stood there all tall and sideways.
"No, I ain't."
Michael was a name she couldn't attach a face to, or any details, but she felt like she'd heard of him. Not through a friend of a friend or something, but like she'd asked what his name was once to be polite. He was tall, and gangly, right? Either way, she hadn't seen anyone since the morning of yesterday, so it wasn't like she needed to know that.
"Why you calling him a frog? He French or something?"
Faith wasn't sure why that seemed like the most pressing question, but it was the one that first came to mind, and thus the first one that escaped her lips. The confusion was clear on her voice though, and probably her face too, but that felt numb. Was her face getting a sunburn? That would just be the icing on the cake.
Criticism or thoughts on my writing are welcome and appreciated - always looking to improve! Feel free to poke me on Discord or via PM.
As they walked she thought about how she needed a hood. Not to protect her head from the sun or rain or anything like that. She just felt like having one it fit with the aesthetic she was promoting. Plus it would have just been pretty sweet right?
((Forrest Quin continued from &Run))
Forrest was feeling better, more like herself. Her brain had managed to piece together a more regular pattern when she had slept. Hitting the big reset button, like a computer that was having an error. Her brain had also kept her onto the correct wavelength of managing three very different people who had no reason to stick together, which was good because she needed that one. Connor had said he was looking for Madison, who Forrest didn't know that well. Madison was one of the people on the school totem pole that existed above Forrest. She was one of the people that looked down on her to be specific, although that probably wasn't that specific since everyone looked down on her really. Forrest knew Madison had killed. She'd killed Nathan in fact.
And Forrest knew she was supposed to feel bad about the fact that the special ed kid had been murdered but she just really fucking didn't. She didn't feel anything about it. It was an event that had happened. Sure, whatever. Moving on she still had an Abe to find and it was proving difficult. He was still alive. She knew that much. His name hadn't appeared on the morning list of killers and deaths. Truthfully that morning had been the same as the others, another list of names that she registered but didn't pay much mind too. Caring was becoming hard.
As they walked Forrest occasionally looked at her map. She wasn't reading it, not in the slightest. But she wanted to give the illusion that she was actually guiding them somewhere. Not that she wasn't guiding them because she was doing that. She was their leader after all and while it was a role she had fallen into she had every intention of keeping it. It was a different feeling, she hadn't been a leader back in Chattanooga, but here she was, taking charge. Probably the only thing going for her really.
Her tank-top, which had been white once, was really starting to show the effects of a week sleeping rough on a tropical island. She was also certain that she smelled super bad because it was always humid and she hadn't washed. The shaved part of her hair was starting to grow back in and actually get some noticable length to it, which had the side-effect of her natural light brown hair colour starting to come through. That meant she had the smallest rainbow ombre going on and also that half her head was now a different colour entirely. The rainbow half meanwhile had just continued to grow out and was starting to matt, a clear and obvious threat to turn into rainbow dreadlocks if given the opportunity. In terms of weight, she was still dropping. She couldn't remember the last time she had eaten. She was naturally skinny but she was starting to be able to notice her own bones a lot more easily.
That was all secondary though. She would be able to deal with it.
As they emerged by the—she checked the map—Serenity Circle and there were already three people present. Probably having a disagreement or some shit based on the fact some of them held weapons but what the fuck ever. She had a fucking squad and they had a gun so who cared right? Speaking of, she turned to her crew.
"I'm going to go introduce myself," She started, tucking her map back into her bag. "It should be fine but like," She shrugged. "We have a gun and numbers."
Then she turned back to the three and walked closer.
"Who fucks goats?"
((Forrest Quin continued from &Run))
Forrest was feeling better, more like herself. Her brain had managed to piece together a more regular pattern when she had slept. Hitting the big reset button, like a computer that was having an error. Her brain had also kept her onto the correct wavelength of managing three very different people who had no reason to stick together, which was good because she needed that one. Connor had said he was looking for Madison, who Forrest didn't know that well. Madison was one of the people on the school totem pole that existed above Forrest. She was one of the people that looked down on her to be specific, although that probably wasn't that specific since everyone looked down on her really. Forrest knew Madison had killed. She'd killed Nathan in fact.
And Forrest knew she was supposed to feel bad about the fact that the special ed kid had been murdered but she just really fucking didn't. She didn't feel anything about it. It was an event that had happened. Sure, whatever. Moving on she still had an Abe to find and it was proving difficult. He was still alive. She knew that much. His name hadn't appeared on the morning list of killers and deaths. Truthfully that morning had been the same as the others, another list of names that she registered but didn't pay much mind too. Caring was becoming hard.
As they walked Forrest occasionally looked at her map. She wasn't reading it, not in the slightest. But she wanted to give the illusion that she was actually guiding them somewhere. Not that she wasn't guiding them because she was doing that. She was their leader after all and while it was a role she had fallen into she had every intention of keeping it. It was a different feeling, she hadn't been a leader back in Chattanooga, but here she was, taking charge. Probably the only thing going for her really.
Her tank-top, which had been white once, was really starting to show the effects of a week sleeping rough on a tropical island. She was also certain that she smelled super bad because it was always humid and she hadn't washed. The shaved part of her hair was starting to grow back in and actually get some noticable length to it, which had the side-effect of her natural light brown hair colour starting to come through. That meant she had the smallest rainbow ombre going on and also that half her head was now a different colour entirely. The rainbow half meanwhile had just continued to grow out and was starting to matt, a clear and obvious threat to turn into rainbow dreadlocks if given the opportunity. In terms of weight, she was still dropping. She couldn't remember the last time she had eaten. She was naturally skinny but she was starting to be able to notice her own bones a lot more easily.
That was all secondary though. She would be able to deal with it.
As they emerged by the—she checked the map—Serenity Circle and there were already three people present. Probably having a disagreement or some shit based on the fact some of them held weapons but what the fuck ever. She had a fucking squad and they had a gun so who cared right? Speaking of, she turned to her crew.
"I'm going to go introduce myself," She started, tucking her map back into her bag. "It should be fine but like," She shrugged. "We have a gun and numbers."
Then she turned back to the three and walked closer.
"Who fucks goats?"
V8
Aracelis Fuentes
California “Cali” Fox
Darryl Smith Jr.
Jessica Romero
Roberta “Robbie” Woodvine
Aracelis Fuentes
California “Cali” Fox
Darryl Smith Jr.
Jessica Romero
Roberta “Robbie” Woodvine
Every single morning, it was someone else. Yesterday, it had been Bret and Nathan. Madison as well, of course — though that was a different sort of mourning. Today's report had smacked him in the face early, though it wasn't as though he couldn't have seen it coming. There had been something off about her; Tirzah had given him a terrible vibe, and he'd only realized why her name had been familiar all-too-late. He hadn't been able to warn him, hadn't been able to try and caution him against it.
Wyatt Carter was dead.
He supposed that most of the George Hunter High School student body would likely have cheered, knowing that the Carter brothers were no longer shuffling around on this mortal coil.
Connor Lorenzen wasn't one of them. Rather, he felt the opposite. He mourned them.
His girlfriend was a murderer, and his best friends were dead.
How the hell did anyone reconcile that?
((Connor Lorenzen continued from &Run))
All morning as they'd walked from their makeshift campsite, Connor had gone over in his mind what he could have done differently through his encounter with Wyatt and Tirzah. He'd been shell-shocked at the revelation that Bret was dead, and true to form, Wyatt had been a force of nature through his anger. There had to have been something he could have said, something he could have done to stop him from marching off to his death. Yet all he'd done was pledge his support and then been ditched for it.
There had been a silver lining, of course. Had he gone with Wyatt, it stood to reason that Tirzah likely would have murdered him, too. The thought made him ill, as did the possibility that he could come upon any of the people that he'd once known and not know if they would rather converse with him or put a bullet in him.
That was probably the chief reason, amongst all of them, that he hadn't ditched Forrest and her motley crew during the night as they'd all slept. It had taken him a little while to shake off the shock of being held a gunpoint and lied to, Valerija's gamble having impacted him more than he wanted to admit. He had no affection for any of them; Christina and Amelia barely registered on his social radar, and Forrest had always been more of an acquaintance than a friend, but they gave him something more than the trees to verbalize to, and it gave him someone that he could outrun were push to come to shove. Human shields, other targets, disposable bodies — the fact was that at this point, Connor was having a difficult time knowing who was still alive that he even held a modicum of affection for.
Above all else, that was the most frightening thing. Madison was still alive, but a murderer. The last time he'd seen Ace, Ivy Langley — who was miraculously somehow still alive — had been in tow. Erika was now someone to be feared, avoided. The only other member of the football team he could think of was Jeff Greene, and Connor couldn't imagine a cheerful reunion with that dickbag.
No, the more he thought it through, the more he started to understand a simple truth.
Connor Lorenzen was alone.
No friends.
No girlfriend.
No father to swoop in to the rescue with whatever the best militia money could buy.
For the time being, he was more than happy to let Forrest do the leading. She had some sort of plan, some sort of a goal in mind and she seemed happy enough to take charge. That was fine by him. The last time he'd tried to take charge he'd been usurped by Fatty McGee and the stablest cheerleader — both of whom had managed to buck the odds and remain alive. If she wanted to approach some nondescript classmates and get herself shot, he wasn't going to stop her.
It meant more time for him to run.
"Let's keep our heads down," he offered, leaning on a fairly hefty tree that was easily ducked behind. "Never know who's already gone an' lost it."
Wyatt Carter was dead.
He supposed that most of the George Hunter High School student body would likely have cheered, knowing that the Carter brothers were no longer shuffling around on this mortal coil.
Connor Lorenzen wasn't one of them. Rather, he felt the opposite. He mourned them.
His girlfriend was a murderer, and his best friends were dead.
How the hell did anyone reconcile that?
((Connor Lorenzen continued from &Run))
All morning as they'd walked from their makeshift campsite, Connor had gone over in his mind what he could have done differently through his encounter with Wyatt and Tirzah. He'd been shell-shocked at the revelation that Bret was dead, and true to form, Wyatt had been a force of nature through his anger. There had to have been something he could have said, something he could have done to stop him from marching off to his death. Yet all he'd done was pledge his support and then been ditched for it.
There had been a silver lining, of course. Had he gone with Wyatt, it stood to reason that Tirzah likely would have murdered him, too. The thought made him ill, as did the possibility that he could come upon any of the people that he'd once known and not know if they would rather converse with him or put a bullet in him.
That was probably the chief reason, amongst all of them, that he hadn't ditched Forrest and her motley crew during the night as they'd all slept. It had taken him a little while to shake off the shock of being held a gunpoint and lied to, Valerija's gamble having impacted him more than he wanted to admit. He had no affection for any of them; Christina and Amelia barely registered on his social radar, and Forrest had always been more of an acquaintance than a friend, but they gave him something more than the trees to verbalize to, and it gave him someone that he could outrun were push to come to shove. Human shields, other targets, disposable bodies — the fact was that at this point, Connor was having a difficult time knowing who was still alive that he even held a modicum of affection for.
Above all else, that was the most frightening thing. Madison was still alive, but a murderer. The last time he'd seen Ace, Ivy Langley — who was miraculously somehow still alive — had been in tow. Erika was now someone to be feared, avoided. The only other member of the football team he could think of was Jeff Greene, and Connor couldn't imagine a cheerful reunion with that dickbag.
No, the more he thought it through, the more he started to understand a simple truth.
Connor Lorenzen was alone.
No friends.
No girlfriend.
No father to swoop in to the rescue with whatever the best militia money could buy.
For the time being, he was more than happy to let Forrest do the leading. She had some sort of plan, some sort of a goal in mind and she seemed happy enough to take charge. That was fine by him. The last time he'd tried to take charge he'd been usurped by Fatty McGee and the stablest cheerleader — both of whom had managed to buck the odds and remain alive. If she wanted to approach some nondescript classmates and get herself shot, he wasn't going to stop her.
It meant more time for him to run.
"Let's keep our heads down," he offered, leaning on a fairly hefty tree that was easily ducked behind. "Never know who's already gone an' lost it."
Heh, goatfucker. Wouldn't put beastiality past him since he kinda a freak, but yeah. That was also a good one.
Man, Faith was really lookin' red now that NEEDLE GUN GIRL was close. Sunburn, probably. It must kinda suck being white sometimes.
Anyway, looked like Michael ain't here. NEEDLE GUN GIRL flipped over the hood on the cult robe and scratched the back of her neck, the grease and oil from her hair congealing around her fingers.
She clicked her tongue. "Nah, not French... thanks, though. If you do see him and y'all ain't dead yet, tell him Yuka and me are tryna find him."
Crunching of underbrush and an inquiry about the goatfucker thing made NEEDLE GUN GIRL turn around to see Forrest stepping from the forestry look, hair looking like someone bitchslapped the randomize button in Create-A-Sim.
"Huh?" NEEDLE GUN GIRL's eyes scrunched up, mouth slightly agape. "Oh. Don't worry about it."
With some sort of finger gun salute at Faith and a pat on Yuka's shoulder, THE SEEKER continued to seek.
((continued in the art exhibit))
Man, Faith was really lookin' red now that NEEDLE GUN GIRL was close. Sunburn, probably. It must kinda suck being white sometimes.
Anyway, looked like Michael ain't here. NEEDLE GUN GIRL flipped over the hood on the cult robe and scratched the back of her neck, the grease and oil from her hair congealing around her fingers.
She clicked her tongue. "Nah, not French... thanks, though. If you do see him and y'all ain't dead yet, tell him Yuka and me are tryna find him."
Crunching of underbrush and an inquiry about the goatfucker thing made NEEDLE GUN GIRL turn around to see Forrest stepping from the forestry look, hair looking like someone bitchslapped the randomize button in Create-A-Sim.
"Huh?" NEEDLE GUN GIRL's eyes scrunched up, mouth slightly agape. "Oh. Don't worry about it."
With some sort of finger gun salute at Faith and a pat on Yuka's shoulder, THE SEEKER continued to seek.
((continued in the art exhibit))
"...he's just froglike. You'll know it if you see him."
Fauna rustled in the distance, and out came another girl. Forrest, party gal, Swiftball had taken place in her house. Yuka got the vague sense that there were more people to follow. No good. She and Teresa had had enough of crowds and parties, after yesterday's events. Shame. She gave Faith's scythe a lingering look. It would've been a good match against Katrina's sword, but, well, there were other pointy fish in the sea. Or something like that. Yuka had never really favored the more figurative uses of the English language, euphemisms, metaphors, that sort of thing. That had been Yuki's job.
Yuka blinked, looked up, and saw Teresa in the distance, felt a tap on the shoulder after the fact. She understood what it meant, the implications and mind-reading and telekinetic thought transfers that all summed up and translated to 'Let's get the fuck out of here,' and she agreed. There was no more sense in being here, frogboy wasn't around anyways, and crowds weren't their thing for the meantime. But, well, Forrest had asked a question and it would have been rude not to answer, so.
"Michael Froese. Call him a goatfucker when slash if you guys meet, will you please?"
And with that, Yuka followed into the foliage.
((Yuka Hayashibara continues in We're All Excited, We Don't Know Why, Maybe It's 'Cause, We're Gonna Die))
Fauna rustled in the distance, and out came another girl. Forrest, party gal, Swiftball had taken place in her house. Yuka got the vague sense that there were more people to follow. No good. She and Teresa had had enough of crowds and parties, after yesterday's events. Shame. She gave Faith's scythe a lingering look. It would've been a good match against Katrina's sword, but, well, there were other pointy fish in the sea. Or something like that. Yuka had never really favored the more figurative uses of the English language, euphemisms, metaphors, that sort of thing. That had been Yuki's job.
Yuka blinked, looked up, and saw Teresa in the distance, felt a tap on the shoulder after the fact. She understood what it meant, the implications and mind-reading and telekinetic thought transfers that all summed up and translated to 'Let's get the fuck out of here,' and she agreed. There was no more sense in being here, frogboy wasn't around anyways, and crowds weren't their thing for the meantime. But, well, Forrest had asked a question and it would have been rude not to answer, so.
"Michael Froese. Call him a goatfucker when slash if you guys meet, will you please?"
And with that, Yuka followed into the foliage.
((Yuka Hayashibara continues in We're All Excited, We Don't Know Why, Maybe It's 'Cause, We're Gonna Die))
((Christina Rennes continued from &Run))
So, there were now two sets currently with a living representative. Christina represented one set of twins, and Yuka represented the triplets. And that lady was ... had been right there. Was it meaningful? Not really. It was just an interesting little tidbit now that the Carter twins were both gone. So when Forrest said she was going to talk to them, Christina really didn't have much of a problem with it.
And then Yuka and her friend left after discussions about goatfuckers, for some reason Michael Froese was one. And they left. For reasons. Christina just got up and approached Forrest, rolling her eyes (yet again).
So, there were now two sets currently with a living representative. Christina represented one set of twins, and Yuka represented the triplets. And that lady was ... had been right there. Was it meaningful? Not really. It was just an interesting little tidbit now that the Carter twins were both gone. So when Forrest said she was going to talk to them, Christina really didn't have much of a problem with it.
And then Yuka and her friend left after discussions about goatfuckers, for some reason Michael Froese was one. And they left. For reasons. Christina just got up and approached Forrest, rolling her eyes (yet again).
Survivor: UCONN - Seriously, it's awesome!
Version 8
Kaede Tsurumi: "Eeep! I-I'm so sorry! I-I'll try not to get in your w-way next time!"
Morgan Whitney
Tyler Slomkowski
Victor Grail: "I didn't give you the lead so that you could lose it! I guess it's up to me to carry us after all."
Version 8
Kaede Tsurumi: "Eeep! I-I'm so sorry! I-I'll try not to get in your w-way next time!"
Morgan Whitney
Tyler Slomkowski
Victor Grail: "I didn't give you the lead so that you could lose it! I guess it's up to me to carry us after all."
Another long, restless night had passed her by, and the toll it was taking on not only her body but her mind especially was significant. Concentration was difficult. Her eyes felt so dry and every time she rubbed them it was painful. Her body felt heavy and hard to manage. Every step forward was a herculean effort. Even still, she tried her best to hide her issues from her allies. She didn’t want them to worry about her. And even more, she didn’t want them to think she wasn’t keeping up with them. She didn’t want to be left behind. Her thoughts blurred together, making her feel afraid and confused. She couldn’t remember things she felt like she should.
Why was she so angry?
Why was everyone so sad?
Why did she leave Declyn? Or did he leave her?
Was any of this real? She wasn’t sure anymore. She just wanted to lay down forever, but it was too scary. Every time she tried to close her eyes and sleep her brain screamed at her to stop. The night before, while the others rested peacefully, she sat huddled against a tree in the fetal position trying to will her anxiety away. The panic overflowing through her body wouldn’t let up, no matter how she begged and cried. But still, when morning came and the others were ready to leave, she followed dutifully, gun in hand.
[Amelia Fischer Continued from &Run]
Amelia was behind the rest of the group, as had been the standard since they began to travel together. The others didn’t seem to pay her much mind, behind the occasional look back to make sure she was still behind them. She was okay with that. It meant she didn’t have to talk. It meant they didn’t notice every stumble and misstep. The chatted among themselves and Amelia simply did her best to keep up. It was better this way. Even if her brain didn’t feel all foggy and wrong she wouldn’t have known what to say, not really.
These weren’t her friends. She didn’t know them at all. They were just people she’d attached herself to because being all alone again was too scary. They were kind, and nice, but they were strangers all the same. She missed Dolly, who every time she thought about made her want to cry all over. She missed Declyn, who would know how to help her, she just knew it. She missed Marcy, and Artem, and Violet, and Yuka. It hurt not to be with them. She missed Grandma and Grandpa. She missed her house. And the store. And her room. And her truck. She missed so many things.
The group emerged into a clearing of some sort, and Amelia trailed behind them. There were other people there, too. Amelia noticed someone familiar, and tried to speak up before she disappeared, but she was gone before she had the chance. Yuka… she was just here. Amelia found herself feeling lost. Should she go after her? No, she couldn’t. Forrest needed her, right?
But still, it hurt her heart to see her friend vanish ust as she found her.
Forrest and Christina approached the girl left behind, but Amelia stayed on the edge of the trees with Conner, watching from a distance. She looked at him and tried her best to smile, even if she was feeling conflicted. Connor said something about keeping their heads down because people could have lost it. It made Amelia afraid. Was she one of those people? She wasn’t sure.
“Mr. Connor? How can you tell if someone’s not them anymore? Like… If they’ve lost it?” She thought about Violet as she spoke. She also thought about herself, and how she hadn’t felt like herself in days.
Why was she so angry?
Why was everyone so sad?
Why did she leave Declyn? Or did he leave her?
Was any of this real? She wasn’t sure anymore. She just wanted to lay down forever, but it was too scary. Every time she tried to close her eyes and sleep her brain screamed at her to stop. The night before, while the others rested peacefully, she sat huddled against a tree in the fetal position trying to will her anxiety away. The panic overflowing through her body wouldn’t let up, no matter how she begged and cried. But still, when morning came and the others were ready to leave, she followed dutifully, gun in hand.
[Amelia Fischer Continued from &Run]
Amelia was behind the rest of the group, as had been the standard since they began to travel together. The others didn’t seem to pay her much mind, behind the occasional look back to make sure she was still behind them. She was okay with that. It meant she didn’t have to talk. It meant they didn’t notice every stumble and misstep. The chatted among themselves and Amelia simply did her best to keep up. It was better this way. Even if her brain didn’t feel all foggy and wrong she wouldn’t have known what to say, not really.
These weren’t her friends. She didn’t know them at all. They were just people she’d attached herself to because being all alone again was too scary. They were kind, and nice, but they were strangers all the same. She missed Dolly, who every time she thought about made her want to cry all over. She missed Declyn, who would know how to help her, she just knew it. She missed Marcy, and Artem, and Violet, and Yuka. It hurt not to be with them. She missed Grandma and Grandpa. She missed her house. And the store. And her room. And her truck. She missed so many things.
The group emerged into a clearing of some sort, and Amelia trailed behind them. There were other people there, too. Amelia noticed someone familiar, and tried to speak up before she disappeared, but she was gone before she had the chance. Yuka… she was just here. Amelia found herself feeling lost. Should she go after her? No, she couldn’t. Forrest needed her, right?
But still, it hurt her heart to see her friend vanish ust as she found her.
Forrest and Christina approached the girl left behind, but Amelia stayed on the edge of the trees with Conner, watching from a distance. She looked at him and tried her best to smile, even if she was feeling conflicted. Connor said something about keeping their heads down because people could have lost it. It made Amelia afraid. Was she one of those people? She wasn’t sure.
“Mr. Connor? How can you tell if someone’s not them anymore? Like… If they’ve lost it?” She thought about Violet as she spoke. She also thought about herself, and how she hadn’t felt like herself in days.
-
Frozen Smoke
- Posts: 533
- Joined: Mon Aug 13, 2018 3:50 pm
- Location: Where I need to be
The two interlopers left just as quickly as they had arrived, probably to continue their quest to find Michael, leaving the unspoken questions of "Why are you looking for him?" and "What are you going to do to him if you find him?" to wilt and die in the back of her throat. Not that they were important questions, anyway. After all, what was Faith going to do? Join them on their quest? Fight them for planning to hurt someone?
The only thing that really mattered, as they walked away, was the fact that the girl who'd first spoken was clutching in her hands something that was pretty familiar as she got a better look at it. A bulky, black, awkward thing that she could barely fit her hands around. It felt like so long ago, but that was the gun she'd found in her pack, only a week ago on the first day. The gun that she'd fired at Sierra's partner in crime. That made Faith wonder what had happened to her, to the both of them. Was Sierra dead? She could have missed it in the announcements. Or maybe she'd found a better gun and just thrown the thing away.
Faith wasn't sure what scenario unsettled her more.
She glanced behind herself, once again, at the pile where her socks and shoes sat. Maybe if she got up and put them on, she could catch up with the two of them, and ask them about it. Warn her about how useless the gun was, too, given that it hadn't done a thing to the person she'd shot with it. But a glance back down towards Forrest as she stood there in the clearing made her think better of it. She didn't want to seem rude, after all, given that she had company again.
"Forrest." she said, in simple greeting, nodding her head vaguely in her direction. Her eyes latched onto another face she recognised, and she nodded again. "Connor." Her eyes flicked between the two other people, willing their names to come to her mind, only to be met by a complete lack of help from her brain.
...
"Other people."
Faith stopped there. Questions sprang to mind of course, but they were ones she already knew the answers to.
"How's it going?" - Awful. Or maybe some false pretence of feeling good painted over awful. No-one had survived this long and not lost someone they cared about, or come far too close to death to feel anything remotely close to okay.
"What are you up to?" - Surviving. The only thing anyone could reasonably do. There was no help coming, no way to escape, all they could do was exist until someone decided to put an end to that. Maybe they had some purpose to fill them for now, but after that was done, they'd be back to just existing. Waiting for death.
"Where are you headed?" - Nowhere. No-one was headed anywhere. They all just walked in circles, looking for people who could maybe make things feel a little less pointless for a while, until they left. Either as a corpse, or by breaking their friendships, or by just wandering off for no real reason like she'd done to Dante.
So, instead, Faith just stayed silent, and waited for one of the group to speak.
The only thing that really mattered, as they walked away, was the fact that the girl who'd first spoken was clutching in her hands something that was pretty familiar as she got a better look at it. A bulky, black, awkward thing that she could barely fit her hands around. It felt like so long ago, but that was the gun she'd found in her pack, only a week ago on the first day. The gun that she'd fired at Sierra's partner in crime. That made Faith wonder what had happened to her, to the both of them. Was Sierra dead? She could have missed it in the announcements. Or maybe she'd found a better gun and just thrown the thing away.
Faith wasn't sure what scenario unsettled her more.
She glanced behind herself, once again, at the pile where her socks and shoes sat. Maybe if she got up and put them on, she could catch up with the two of them, and ask them about it. Warn her about how useless the gun was, too, given that it hadn't done a thing to the person she'd shot with it. But a glance back down towards Forrest as she stood there in the clearing made her think better of it. She didn't want to seem rude, after all, given that she had company again.
"Forrest." she said, in simple greeting, nodding her head vaguely in her direction. Her eyes latched onto another face she recognised, and she nodded again. "Connor." Her eyes flicked between the two other people, willing their names to come to her mind, only to be met by a complete lack of help from her brain.
...
"Other people."
Faith stopped there. Questions sprang to mind of course, but they were ones she already knew the answers to.
"How's it going?" - Awful. Or maybe some false pretence of feeling good painted over awful. No-one had survived this long and not lost someone they cared about, or come far too close to death to feel anything remotely close to okay.
"What are you up to?" - Surviving. The only thing anyone could reasonably do. There was no help coming, no way to escape, all they could do was exist until someone decided to put an end to that. Maybe they had some purpose to fill them for now, but after that was done, they'd be back to just existing. Waiting for death.
"Where are you headed?" - Nowhere. No-one was headed anywhere. They all just walked in circles, looking for people who could maybe make things feel a little less pointless for a while, until they left. Either as a corpse, or by breaking their friendships, or by just wandering off for no real reason like she'd done to Dante.
So, instead, Faith just stayed silent, and waited for one of the group to speak.
Criticism or thoughts on my writing are welcome and appreciated - always looking to improve! Feel free to poke me on Discord or via PM.
Michael Froese. The name meant nothing to her. Not that she didn't know who he was, she just didn't care. He wasn't interesting in so much as the pair were looking for him and there was probably a story there. One she would never learn as the pair fled as soon as her group appeared. It was surprising really, they had seemed to be in the process of a robbery or at least some form of intimidation. So fleeing at the first sign of trouble or resistance fit with that plan. Shame, they seemed interesting.
Despite that, she still had Faith in front of her. She knew Faith. In the same way you knew people from your school from appearance and maybe talking once or twice in the hall or when you ended up in the same place together. There was no bond or connection between them. Besides the one where they were both trapped on an island as those around them died. It seemed that Faith had done well for herself, she was still alive and appeared relatively unharmed which was close enough. It appeared to be the best you could ask for.
She greeted the group, in a way and then trailed off. Conversations seemed to be becoming harder as time went on. As people lost more and more of the social norms that had once bound them all together. That was an advantage she possessed she supposed. She had never obeyed social norms for conversations to begin with. So what did it matter if the traditional structure was destroyed. A small benefit but it all helped her and she was going to take everything she could get.
Giving Faith a half-wave Forrest picked up the ball for her.
"What's up?" She gestured in the direction the pair had runoff. "Were they threatening you?"
Despite that, she still had Faith in front of her. She knew Faith. In the same way you knew people from your school from appearance and maybe talking once or twice in the hall or when you ended up in the same place together. There was no bond or connection between them. Besides the one where they were both trapped on an island as those around them died. It seemed that Faith had done well for herself, she was still alive and appeared relatively unharmed which was close enough. It appeared to be the best you could ask for.
She greeted the group, in a way and then trailed off. Conversations seemed to be becoming harder as time went on. As people lost more and more of the social norms that had once bound them all together. That was an advantage she possessed she supposed. She had never obeyed social norms for conversations to begin with. So what did it matter if the traditional structure was destroyed. A small benefit but it all helped her and she was going to take everything she could get.
Giving Faith a half-wave Forrest picked up the ball for her.
"What's up?" She gestured in the direction the pair had runoff. "Were they threatening you?"
Poor Amelia; Connor looked down at her with a sad, wistful expression on his face. That was maybe one of the best questions he'd ever heard asked, and if he had an answer, they'd all be about ten steps ahead of where they were now. Sighing, he tried to think up the best answer that he could — the girl was a bit of a delicate sort, she'd only barely grasped the situation they were in and she saw the world with a naivety that in another circumstance would have been endearing. "Well, hun, it's — there ain't no real easy way to see it."
In this circumstance, it could prove deadly.
"Usually it's somethin' about the eyes. If you look someone in the eyes and there ain't nothin' there? That's — well, you'd best be heading off the other way."
That was all he could think to say. Dead, vacant eyes were usually a symptom of post-traumatic stress, or at least someone who was lacking sleep, nutrition, and hence had lost most of their capacity for rational thought. Considering some of the kill counts that he'd been listening to so far, he couldn't help but wonder if that was more of the class than he might realize.
Likely more than he'd be able to tell just by looking into their eyes, anyhow. No matter what, Connor knew that the second he got a bad vibe from anyone in this group, he was out of there. Forrest and her strange gang of miscreants were at this point, a means to an end, until he could pull his own mind together and ditch this embarrassing tremor that he'd picked up after the encounter with Val. Every so often, it seemed as though the muscles in his arm decided that they had a mind of their own, and they started twitching with reckless abandon.
It was his throwing arm, naturally.
Watching as two of the people said something to Forrest and headed off into the woods, his eyes widened as he caught a glimpse of the third person, who'd been heretofore obscured by the others. They locked eyes, and the recognition was instantaneous. He'd stepped away from the tree and started over towards her before his name had even left her lips.
"Faith!"
She was one of the few who might understand; one of the few who would mourn the people that no one else would mourn. Connor was no fool, he knew exactly what the general opinion was regarding his closest friends. They brought it upon themselves the vast majority of the time, but in the here and now, their deaths would be celebrated by most. There were scant few people left alive on the island who might feel the losses of Wyatt and Bret Carter as keenly as he. Ace, maybe. Ivy, doubtfully — though who knew what kind of feeling she had towards either brother. Anyone left on the football team or the cheerleading squad might have an opinion, most likely negative. Faith, on the other hand...
She looked like hell, and her voice was flat and toneless, but contrary to what he'd just told Amelia, that didn't stop him from closing the distance between the two, and dropping to his knees to pull her into a close hug. Forrest had asked some sort of question, and maybe she'd answered it, maybe she hadn't. It didn't matter. They weren't overly close most days, but they were friendly, and by the look on her face, he knew that she was grappling with some of the same emotions he was.
She understood.
"God, Faith — it's damn good to see you."
The words had sounded disingenuous when he'd said them to other people before, but for the first time in a while — perhaps since he'd come across his ill-fated friend — he actually meant them.
In this circumstance, it could prove deadly.
"Usually it's somethin' about the eyes. If you look someone in the eyes and there ain't nothin' there? That's — well, you'd best be heading off the other way."
That was all he could think to say. Dead, vacant eyes were usually a symptom of post-traumatic stress, or at least someone who was lacking sleep, nutrition, and hence had lost most of their capacity for rational thought. Considering some of the kill counts that he'd been listening to so far, he couldn't help but wonder if that was more of the class than he might realize.
Likely more than he'd be able to tell just by looking into their eyes, anyhow. No matter what, Connor knew that the second he got a bad vibe from anyone in this group, he was out of there. Forrest and her strange gang of miscreants were at this point, a means to an end, until he could pull his own mind together and ditch this embarrassing tremor that he'd picked up after the encounter with Val. Every so often, it seemed as though the muscles in his arm decided that they had a mind of their own, and they started twitching with reckless abandon.
It was his throwing arm, naturally.
Watching as two of the people said something to Forrest and headed off into the woods, his eyes widened as he caught a glimpse of the third person, who'd been heretofore obscured by the others. They locked eyes, and the recognition was instantaneous. He'd stepped away from the tree and started over towards her before his name had even left her lips.
"Faith!"
She was one of the few who might understand; one of the few who would mourn the people that no one else would mourn. Connor was no fool, he knew exactly what the general opinion was regarding his closest friends. They brought it upon themselves the vast majority of the time, but in the here and now, their deaths would be celebrated by most. There were scant few people left alive on the island who might feel the losses of Wyatt and Bret Carter as keenly as he. Ace, maybe. Ivy, doubtfully — though who knew what kind of feeling she had towards either brother. Anyone left on the football team or the cheerleading squad might have an opinion, most likely negative. Faith, on the other hand...
She looked like hell, and her voice was flat and toneless, but contrary to what he'd just told Amelia, that didn't stop him from closing the distance between the two, and dropping to his knees to pull her into a close hug. Forrest had asked some sort of question, and maybe she'd answered it, maybe she hadn't. It didn't matter. They weren't overly close most days, but they were friendly, and by the look on her face, he knew that she was grappling with some of the same emotions he was.
She understood.
"God, Faith — it's damn good to see you."
The words had sounded disingenuous when he'd said them to other people before, but for the first time in a while — perhaps since he'd come across his ill-fated friend — he actually meant them.
Forrest knew Faith better than Christina did, so, Christina didn't really say anything. She just noted the fading green of Yuka's hair and the green of her friend's top along with the boots and ...
"Shit"
Christina luckily faked a cough right there, because she realized that she had possibly dodged a major bullet back there, assuming Teresa's crazy was still in effect. At least Faith wasn't showing the same crazy, Amelia was simply (mostly) happily ignorant, and Forrest and Connor were still sane.
"Shit"
Christina luckily faked a cough right there, because she realized that she had possibly dodged a major bullet back there, assuming Teresa's crazy was still in effect. At least Faith wasn't showing the same crazy, Amelia was simply (mostly) happily ignorant, and Forrest and Connor were still sane.
Survivor: UCONN - Seriously, it's awesome!
Version 8
Kaede Tsurumi: "Eeep! I-I'm so sorry! I-I'll try not to get in your w-way next time!"
Morgan Whitney
Tyler Slomkowski
Victor Grail: "I didn't give you the lead so that you could lose it! I guess it's up to me to carry us after all."
Version 8
Kaede Tsurumi: "Eeep! I-I'm so sorry! I-I'll try not to get in your w-way next time!"
Morgan Whitney
Tyler Slomkowski
Victor Grail: "I didn't give you the lead so that you could lose it! I guess it's up to me to carry us after all."
Eyes…
Amelia released a shaky sigh as she did her best to think. Did she see Violet’s eyes? She couldn’t remember. That boy from the other day. His eyes were scary. She felt a shiver run down her spine just remembering. The hand holding the Arsenal twitched. All of a sudden she felt afraid again. She looked back at Connor with dismay on her face. His eyes, at least, were kind. It settled her anxious heart somewhat. The people she was with now had eyes that weren’t empty. They were full of feelings, even if those feelings were sad and sometimes awful. There were still people inside.
Now that she thought about it, she wondered if hers were the same.
Did her eyes still have life? Was she still in control?
What did her eyes look like?
Connor walked off to greet the new girl, and Amelia slowly followed, careful to mind her steps and not betray her own exhaustion and delirium. These people were kind. She didn’t want to lose them. She didn’t want them to think she was one of the people who had nothing left inside. She wanted to stay with them as long as she could. She had nowhere else to go anymore. All her friends were either dead or killers. She was all alone.
Lost.
She caught up with her group and stood off to the side. Forrest was in control, Amelia would just follow. I was what she knew to do. Dolly led, Amelia followed. It was easy. Her gun hand twitched again, and Amelia tightened her grip on the handle, so as not to drop it. She forced a small smile and hoped it was enough.
Amelia released a shaky sigh as she did her best to think. Did she see Violet’s eyes? She couldn’t remember. That boy from the other day. His eyes were scary. She felt a shiver run down her spine just remembering. The hand holding the Arsenal twitched. All of a sudden she felt afraid again. She looked back at Connor with dismay on her face. His eyes, at least, were kind. It settled her anxious heart somewhat. The people she was with now had eyes that weren’t empty. They were full of feelings, even if those feelings were sad and sometimes awful. There were still people inside.
Now that she thought about it, she wondered if hers were the same.
Did her eyes still have life? Was she still in control?
What did her eyes look like?
Connor walked off to greet the new girl, and Amelia slowly followed, careful to mind her steps and not betray her own exhaustion and delirium. These people were kind. She didn’t want to lose them. She didn’t want them to think she was one of the people who had nothing left inside. She wanted to stay with them as long as she could. She had nowhere else to go anymore. All her friends were either dead or killers. She was all alone.
Lost.
She caught up with her group and stood off to the side. Forrest was in control, Amelia would just follow. I was what she knew to do. Dolly led, Amelia followed. It was easy. Her gun hand twitched again, and Amelia tightened her grip on the handle, so as not to drop it. She forced a small smile and hoped it was enough.