((Tanisha Abbey continued from Someone Get Me Off This Merry-Go-Round Called Life))
Tanisha continued to run through the rain, her chest aching and her vision a mess from the rain obscuring her glasses. She finally came to a stop when she felt the ground beneath her get loose. She stumbled a bit and fell. She dropped her gun and groaned as she fell, taking a moment to just lay down. She felt the sand beneath her and slowly got back up to her feet.
Tanisha wiped her glasses on her dress and put them back on. Her running had led her to the edge of the island, it seemed. She glanced around the area and noticed there appeared to be a pier nearby. She continued to pant, putting her hands on her knees as she tried to catch her breath. Unfortunately, this meant she quickly hunched over and puked whatever little breakfast she had onto the sand at her feet.
"Ugh, fuck me," she muttered, spitting the last bit of bile out of her mouth.
Tanisha wasn't sure how long she was running. After seeing Ned get killed, she just picked a direction and kept going. She couldn't tell if anyone was behind her or not. She knew she wasn't the best runner, and this run definitely took a lot out of her. Hell, she wasn't even the type to puke after exercise. She thought her dance training would prevent that from happening. But maybe the puking wasn't just from exhaustion, but from fear. After all, this was the closest she got to dying since she woke up on the island, and she was likely to revisit this feeling over the next few days.
Tanisha stepped over and picked up her shotgun. She then slowly made her way over to the edge of the pier and plopped herself down right where the pier met the beach. After a moment to collect her thoughts, she put her bag on her lap and reached inside for a water bottle. Tanisha took a quick swig and swished it around in her mouth. She then spat it out onto the sand at her feet. Maybe it was a waste of fresh water, but she couldn't stand the taste of bile in her mouth.
She looked out into the area where she came running. With her back to the rest of the pier, she at least knew no one could sneak up on her. For now, she just needed a moment to rest. It was only around mid-day and she had already been through too much for one day.
"God, just give me a moment of peace," she said to herself. "At least for a little while."
When you hurt me, you hurt yourself
Open, mid-day Day 3
For a moment, looking out into the rain, Tanisha saw nothing.
"Hey!"
A shaky voice, from far along the sand.
(Tom Swift continued from http://sotfmini.com/SurvivalOfTheFittest/viewtopic.php?f=517&t=6472&start=15)
He hid.
He wasn't proud of it. He was conscious of the cameras, and the collar on his neck. He was conscious of the story he was telling the world now--the story of a coward, who bolted at the first sign of danger. The bard of fantasy, bold and daring, was gone. There was just the boy, running frantically across the island.
No one had died. But the fragile story he'd been clinging to had cracked when Marcus had jumped: fractured when Blaise had yelled at him; shattered in the thunder of that gunshot.
Fear the Reaper Reaper Reaper Reaper
The shadow was closer. He felt it pressing down upon his back, his shoulders. He could barely breathe with it.
He found a stinking wooden shelter not too far from the place where Marco had vanished, and huddled beneath it, in a distant corner where he could keep an eye on the entrance. Wanted to sleep. Couldn't sleep. Someone else could find him, gun in hand, and the gunshot would put an end to him, and spray his brains against the wall. Or fire could consume him, as it had consumed the burnt body he hadn't recognized.
He wanted to be home, curled up in his chair, a controller in his hand. He wanted a pill in his stomach and a glass of whiskey close at hand. He wanted to be be numb to this terror: the cold, awful weight. He wanted to be warm, and safe, and free.
He'd never be free. The Reaper was so terribly close.
Beeping from his collar on the next morning's Announcements sent him running from his building, frantic and frightened. He slinked from one place to the next, afraid to move. He couldn't stay in a building too long: the fear would seize him again, and he'd plunge back out into the rain, missing his pills, his drinks, his games, his comforts, his-
Movement in the distance: a figure stumbling across the sand, only to fall to her knees, bile dribbling from her lips.
Tom stared at that figure for a long time, even after she'd risen and staggered on. Something in his rabbit-jumping mind felt very strange. He was scared. Terrified. But that figure had run as frantically as he had run, had heaved on the sand like Tom had by his toilet the night he'd had too much whiskey on an empty stomach, hurling up the pill he'd swallowed. She might be sick. She might be hurt. She might just be someone he could talk to.
He didn't know what he was doing anymore. But he couldn't keep hiding forever. And he was just...so tired of being alone.
"Are...are you okay?" Tom called, stepping out around the corner, so he was visible to the girl at the other end. The kami hung limply at his side.
"Hey!"
A shaky voice, from far along the sand.
(Tom Swift continued from http://sotfmini.com/SurvivalOfTheFittest/viewtopic.php?f=517&t=6472&start=15)
He hid.
He wasn't proud of it. He was conscious of the cameras, and the collar on his neck. He was conscious of the story he was telling the world now--the story of a coward, who bolted at the first sign of danger. The bard of fantasy, bold and daring, was gone. There was just the boy, running frantically across the island.
No one had died. But the fragile story he'd been clinging to had cracked when Marcus had jumped: fractured when Blaise had yelled at him; shattered in the thunder of that gunshot.
Fear the Reaper Reaper Reaper Reaper
The shadow was closer. He felt it pressing down upon his back, his shoulders. He could barely breathe with it.
He found a stinking wooden shelter not too far from the place where Marco had vanished, and huddled beneath it, in a distant corner where he could keep an eye on the entrance. Wanted to sleep. Couldn't sleep. Someone else could find him, gun in hand, and the gunshot would put an end to him, and spray his brains against the wall. Or fire could consume him, as it had consumed the burnt body he hadn't recognized.
He wanted to be home, curled up in his chair, a controller in his hand. He wanted a pill in his stomach and a glass of whiskey close at hand. He wanted to be be numb to this terror: the cold, awful weight. He wanted to be warm, and safe, and free.
He'd never be free. The Reaper was so terribly close.
Beeping from his collar on the next morning's Announcements sent him running from his building, frantic and frightened. He slinked from one place to the next, afraid to move. He couldn't stay in a building too long: the fear would seize him again, and he'd plunge back out into the rain, missing his pills, his drinks, his games, his comforts, his-
Movement in the distance: a figure stumbling across the sand, only to fall to her knees, bile dribbling from her lips.
Tom stared at that figure for a long time, even after she'd risen and staggered on. Something in his rabbit-jumping mind felt very strange. He was scared. Terrified. But that figure had run as frantically as he had run, had heaved on the sand like Tom had by his toilet the night he'd had too much whiskey on an empty stomach, hurling up the pill he'd swallowed. She might be sick. She might be hurt. She might just be someone he could talk to.
He didn't know what he was doing anymore. But he couldn't keep hiding forever. And he was just...so tired of being alone.
"Are...are you okay?" Tom called, stepping out around the corner, so he was visible to the girl at the other end. The kami hung limply at his side.
Those Whose Time Has Come]
Terra Johnson (female student no. 73, DECEASED): Oh...duh...Abel's...dead...the one who...lives is...
Tom Swift (male student no. 60): It didn't matter what he wanted anymore.
Daria Bhatia (female student no. 56): "I pity you, and everyone who knows you. Because if you can live with this, I don't...I don't think you're human anymore.”
Terra Johnson (female student no. 73, DECEASED): Oh...duh...Abel's...dead...the one who...lives is...
Tom Swift (male student no. 60): It didn't matter what he wanted anymore.
Daria Bhatia (female student no. 56): "I pity you, and everyone who knows you. Because if you can live with this, I don't...I don't think you're human anymore.”
-
BlizzardeyeWonder
- Posts: 682
- Joined: Mon Aug 13, 2018 3:41 pm
- Location: The Zone™
Yesterday, for Camilla at least, was uneventful. No misfired guns making her ears ring, no corpses forcing her to face mortality. Yet, it seemed evident that the island conspired to kill the people who deserved it the least.
[Camilla Bell continued from Sink or Swim Better Dive Right In]
She told Bert that she was going to look for some time alone. She should have known better than to ask for anything- in this part of the beach stood two people, with her eyes drawn to the gun the one by the pier held.
If the sun had interrupted her sleep, she wouldn't have been so shaken. It would have brought her out of that nightmare of blood, bullet wounds, and tears before it spiraled to places even further than Camilla could fathom, places in her mind she wished she could remain ignorant of. Instead, the sun left her behind- just as Max and Lucas did. Was Bert going to abandon her too, now that she was out of sight and out of mind? Just like she did at the party? Well, she was being silly, Lucas and Max didn't abandon her, she abandoned them. Really, all of this was her fault. And now she was doing the same thing to Bert, except the nightmare really was all in her head this time.
Her arms gently wrapped around her torso, she took a breath in. Felt the motion with her arms. Breathing out felt satisfying, as if a burden was lifted. Even so she felt guilty about it.
When she heard Regina's name on the announcements, she asked God why. She hadn't prayed in a long time, because she felt no need to- what good was the counsel of God when for all his benevolence, things never quite seemed to go right? For all his "benevolence", Survival of the Fittest was still a thing. She knew better than to ask God for aid.
But she had to know why.
Why was she still alive?
Rather, why was she still alive when so many good people died?
Why wasn't she the one shot that fateful day? Why was it Beryl? So she could be with God in heaven? She thought God was supposed to be beyond sins like greed and envy. Perhaps He wasn't.
Of course, God refused to give her an answer.
Staring out at the pier as the rain poured, she heard one person ask if the other was alright. That was when she remembered, her prayer in the first hours of her imprisonment. She begged for life, and she got it- but instead, Beryl died. Now Regina was dead, too.
"Is that why...?" she murmured. The rain sang louder than her, so she assumed the others didn't hear it, even though she stood in plain sight.
[Camilla Bell continued from Sink or Swim Better Dive Right In]
She told Bert that she was going to look for some time alone. She should have known better than to ask for anything- in this part of the beach stood two people, with her eyes drawn to the gun the one by the pier held.
If the sun had interrupted her sleep, she wouldn't have been so shaken. It would have brought her out of that nightmare of blood, bullet wounds, and tears before it spiraled to places even further than Camilla could fathom, places in her mind she wished she could remain ignorant of. Instead, the sun left her behind- just as Max and Lucas did. Was Bert going to abandon her too, now that she was out of sight and out of mind? Just like she did at the party? Well, she was being silly, Lucas and Max didn't abandon her, she abandoned them. Really, all of this was her fault. And now she was doing the same thing to Bert, except the nightmare really was all in her head this time.
Her arms gently wrapped around her torso, she took a breath in. Felt the motion with her arms. Breathing out felt satisfying, as if a burden was lifted. Even so she felt guilty about it.
When she heard Regina's name on the announcements, she asked God why. She hadn't prayed in a long time, because she felt no need to- what good was the counsel of God when for all his benevolence, things never quite seemed to go right? For all his "benevolence", Survival of the Fittest was still a thing. She knew better than to ask God for aid.
But she had to know why.
Why was she still alive?
Rather, why was she still alive when so many good people died?
Why wasn't she the one shot that fateful day? Why was it Beryl? So she could be with God in heaven? She thought God was supposed to be beyond sins like greed and envy. Perhaps He wasn't.
Of course, God refused to give her an answer.
Staring out at the pier as the rain poured, she heard one person ask if the other was alright. That was when she remembered, her prayer in the first hours of her imprisonment. She begged for life, and she got it- but instead, Beryl died. Now Regina was dead, too.
"Is that why...?" she murmured. The rain sang louder than her, so she assumed the others didn't hear it, even though she stood in plain sight.
"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"
Why had she decided to go wandering in the rain?
((Lizzie Lebowski continued from I’m A Fucking Unicxrn))
Because, as it turned out, she was actually bored.
How the hell did you get bored in the middle of your own execution?
Her Dad had always told her that only boring people got bored. He had told her that just once, because since then she had thrown that back in his face, always with a smug grin, every time he’d complained about being stuck in traffic, or in the line at the grocery checkout. He would always roll his eyes, regretting ever bringing it up with her in the first place. Her Mom had just chuckled.
God damn she missed them both.
So she must have been a boring person, she’d decided. But if she was in the middle of a shitstorm of grim reapers cutting them down one by one, then she didn’t have to die a boring person. She could at least go out for a walk, even if it was pouring down cats and dogs and scythes. It wasn’t like it made a huge difference, whether she died by being capped in the face by a bitch who didn't say much, or from hypothermia. Maybe hypothermia hurt less?
Cheery. All those obituaries on the morning radio were definitely doing wonders on her train of thought. At least Morgan was still alive. She was glad none of the other girls she’d met in the garden were dead yet either. Small fortunes while the bodies hit the floor.
The seaside was nice. She’d been to a few in Germany, so the scenery made her nostalgic for her European roots. Her Oma always greeted her with a big hug, and her Essen was the absolute best. Her Cousin Karl was a bit of a pill, no sense of humour, but she still remembered walking through the fields with him with their shoes off when they were seven. She'd stepped on a rock and cut her foot, which still had a little scar. It itched when he was telling his friends how annoying she was. Even when she was being a bitch, it was almost like her relationship with him hadn't changed.
Great, more thinking of family. That was just what she needed to make herself feel better.
As she kept walking on in the rain, stopping only once to stare out at the infinite horizon and break out into a fit of laughter because Jesus Christ what a way to die this was turning out to be, she got close enough to the trembling trio to be within shouting distance.
“Yoooooooo!”
((Lizzie Lebowski continued from I’m A Fucking Unicxrn))
Because, as it turned out, she was actually bored.
How the hell did you get bored in the middle of your own execution?
Her Dad had always told her that only boring people got bored. He had told her that just once, because since then she had thrown that back in his face, always with a smug grin, every time he’d complained about being stuck in traffic, or in the line at the grocery checkout. He would always roll his eyes, regretting ever bringing it up with her in the first place. Her Mom had just chuckled.
God damn she missed them both.
So she must have been a boring person, she’d decided. But if she was in the middle of a shitstorm of grim reapers cutting them down one by one, then she didn’t have to die a boring person. She could at least go out for a walk, even if it was pouring down cats and dogs and scythes. It wasn’t like it made a huge difference, whether she died by being capped in the face by a bitch who didn't say much, or from hypothermia. Maybe hypothermia hurt less?
Cheery. All those obituaries on the morning radio were definitely doing wonders on her train of thought. At least Morgan was still alive. She was glad none of the other girls she’d met in the garden were dead yet either. Small fortunes while the bodies hit the floor.
The seaside was nice. She’d been to a few in Germany, so the scenery made her nostalgic for her European roots. Her Oma always greeted her with a big hug, and her Essen was the absolute best. Her Cousin Karl was a bit of a pill, no sense of humour, but she still remembered walking through the fields with him with their shoes off when they were seven. She'd stepped on a rock and cut her foot, which still had a little scar. It itched when he was telling his friends how annoying she was. Even when she was being a bitch, it was almost like her relationship with him hadn't changed.
Great, more thinking of family. That was just what she needed to make herself feel better.
As she kept walking on in the rain, stopping only once to stare out at the infinite horizon and break out into a fit of laughter because Jesus Christ what a way to die this was turning out to be, she got close enough to the trembling trio to be within shouting distance.
“Yoooooooo!”
Tanisha heard a voice call out to her in the distance. She picked her head up and saw a boy nearby. Tanisha didn't really know who he was, not helped by her glasses still having some water streaks on them. She had to push her glasses up and back down to try and make some sense of who was near. But it didn't really help. She kept her hands on the shotgun just in case.
"Uh, not really," she said to the guy. "I just saw a friend die. The second to die in two days. And it keeps raining. So, y'know. It's all pretty shitty right now."
Tanisha shrugged. She didn't want to sound too sarcastic or too whiny. She was pretty sure everyone here had the right to gripe about their situation considering how astronomically shitty it was to be in this situation, so she hoped the guy felt the same way.
It was then Tanisha heard someone else calling out to them. She tried to look in the direction. It looked like there were two people nearby. The shouter was female, and the other person seemed to be a girl too. Tanisha raised the hand that was resting on the barrel of her shotgun and waved.
"Yooooo to you too," she shouted back.
"Uh, not really," she said to the guy. "I just saw a friend die. The second to die in two days. And it keeps raining. So, y'know. It's all pretty shitty right now."
Tanisha shrugged. She didn't want to sound too sarcastic or too whiny. She was pretty sure everyone here had the right to gripe about their situation considering how astronomically shitty it was to be in this situation, so she hoped the guy felt the same way.
It was then Tanisha heard someone else calling out to them. She tried to look in the direction. It looked like there were two people nearby. The shouter was female, and the other person seemed to be a girl too. Tanisha raised the hand that was resting on the barrel of her shotgun and waved.
"Yooooo to you too," she shouted back.
The girl rubbed at the water on her glasses. Self-consciously, Tom did the same. She was a blur in the distance, just like she'd been before. He found he wanted to talk to her anyways.
"Uh..." She began, and wasn't that the fucking tea on hellmurder island. "Not really. I just saw a friend die."
Christ, really? Tom had been so rattled by the dead body of a girl he didn't recognize that he'd barely been able to speak: a single gunshot had sent him scuttling for cover like a startled rat, and he'd hid in his nest until he couldn't stand it anymore. Even now, his head ached: a pressure behind his eyes and inside his brain, making his blood itch. He wanted release. He wanted relief.
And while Tom's shitty thoughts kept spinning, the other girl was speaking. "And it keeps raining. So, y'know. It's all pretty shitty right now
All his trouble thinking of something faded. A sad half-grin flickered across Tom's face, like a candle dying in the rain. "I know, right? Like...just...fuck this!" He shook a fist at the sky. "I guess..." A terrible joke occurred to him. An awkward grin stumbled across his face, more earnest than the first dying smile. "When it rains, it pours."
"“Yoooooooo!”
Like a fucking laughtrack on the blackest fucking comedy there ever was, and Tom leapt backwards, his eyes searching feverishly for the source of the voice, for the next gun that would shoot a bullet, for the bullet that would crack his brains out of his skull. Only then did he see the other girl, pale, tall, and thin, looking every inch as scared and battered as Tom himself felt.
"Uh," Tom managed.
The. Fucking. Tea.
"Uh..." She began, and wasn't that the fucking tea on hellmurder island. "Not really. I just saw a friend die."
Christ, really? Tom had been so rattled by the dead body of a girl he didn't recognize that he'd barely been able to speak: a single gunshot had sent him scuttling for cover like a startled rat, and he'd hid in his nest until he couldn't stand it anymore. Even now, his head ached: a pressure behind his eyes and inside his brain, making his blood itch. He wanted release. He wanted relief.
And while Tom's shitty thoughts kept spinning, the other girl was speaking. "And it keeps raining. So, y'know. It's all pretty shitty right now
All his trouble thinking of something faded. A sad half-grin flickered across Tom's face, like a candle dying in the rain. "I know, right? Like...just...fuck this!" He shook a fist at the sky. "I guess..." A terrible joke occurred to him. An awkward grin stumbled across his face, more earnest than the first dying smile. "When it rains, it pours."
"“Yoooooooo!”
Like a fucking laughtrack on the blackest fucking comedy there ever was, and Tom leapt backwards, his eyes searching feverishly for the source of the voice, for the next gun that would shoot a bullet, for the bullet that would crack his brains out of his skull. Only then did he see the other girl, pale, tall, and thin, looking every inch as scared and battered as Tom himself felt.
"Uh," Tom managed.
The. Fucking. Tea.
Those Whose Time Has Come]
Terra Johnson (female student no. 73, DECEASED): Oh...duh...Abel's...dead...the one who...lives is...
Tom Swift (male student no. 60): It didn't matter what he wanted anymore.
Daria Bhatia (female student no. 56): "I pity you, and everyone who knows you. Because if you can live with this, I don't...I don't think you're human anymore.”
Terra Johnson (female student no. 73, DECEASED): Oh...duh...Abel's...dead...the one who...lives is...
Tom Swift (male student no. 60): It didn't matter what he wanted anymore.
Daria Bhatia (female student no. 56): "I pity you, and everyone who knows you. Because if you can live with this, I don't...I don't think you're human anymore.”
-
BlizzardeyeWonder
- Posts: 682
- Joined: Mon Aug 13, 2018 3:41 pm
- Location: The Zone™
Camilla wanted to jump at the sudden sound, but she didn't. Instead, she dug her nails into her shirt and the skin underneath- and realized they'd become noticeably longer than their properly trimmed length. Then again, her dad once asked her if she was trying to trim her nails down to the cuticle, so maybe she was just weird in that department.
The girl with the gun waved. With the gun. Shouted back, too. She made eye contact with the other one, and couldn't put a name to his face. Those two were talking earlier, but she couldn't quite hear them.
Without really thinking about it, she started walking closer. What was the worst they could do? If she got shot, well, she was long overdue for that anyways.
Whoever was doing the shouting would have to wait, she supposed.
What was the worst they could do?
The girl with the gun waved. With the gun. Shouted back, too. She made eye contact with the other one, and couldn't put a name to his face. Those two were talking earlier, but she couldn't quite hear them.
Without really thinking about it, she started walking closer. What was the worst they could do? If she got shot, well, she was long overdue for that anyways.
Whoever was doing the shouting would have to wait, she supposed.
What was the worst they could do?
"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"
Well that was a warmer reception than she had honestly expected. Curious as to what the future with these new people held, she strode towards the group with hedge clippers in hand. Not brandishing, she didn’t feel a particular need to look threatening or take another hostage at this exact moment in time, but she wasn’t about to stop and put them away in her bag.
As she approached, she slowed. Partly because she was being ignored by one of the trio (rude), and partly because she got just a little better sight of what was sitting in Tanisha’s lap. It was tricky to make out in the rain and the distance, but clearly her glasses she’d so frequently avoided were paying off when it came to life or death. Just wait until her optometrist heard that she was able to spot a gun at fifty paces.
Now it was a tad awkward that Tanisha had the gun, because the two had had a rather uncomfortable exchange in the past that Lizzie could not be entirely certain Tanisha had gotten over. She was very very sorry about the whole thing, of course, and would have apologised if their exchange at the time hadn’t convinced her so thoroughly that Tanisha could tear her a verbal new one. With that I mind, it would be just dandy if the gun could stay in the lap, thank you very much
At times like this, it paid not to bring up old wounds.
“How’s it hanging, guys? Everyone managing to avoid getting shot? I know I am.”
Why do that, when there were so many fresh ones?
As she approached, she slowed. Partly because she was being ignored by one of the trio (rude), and partly because she got just a little better sight of what was sitting in Tanisha’s lap. It was tricky to make out in the rain and the distance, but clearly her glasses she’d so frequently avoided were paying off when it came to life or death. Just wait until her optometrist heard that she was able to spot a gun at fifty paces.
Now it was a tad awkward that Tanisha had the gun, because the two had had a rather uncomfortable exchange in the past that Lizzie could not be entirely certain Tanisha had gotten over. She was very very sorry about the whole thing, of course, and would have apologised if their exchange at the time hadn’t convinced her so thoroughly that Tanisha could tear her a verbal new one. With that I mind, it would be just dandy if the gun could stay in the lap, thank you very much
At times like this, it paid not to bring up old wounds.
“How’s it hanging, guys? Everyone managing to avoid getting shot? I know I am.”
Why do that, when there were so many fresh ones?
The two other girls were much closer in view now. Tanisha wasn't entirely sure of who the tall girl was, but she recognized the other as Lizzie Lebowski. Tanisha remembered Lizzie as some punk-ass bitch who tried to come for her figure but couldn't handle the full force of Tanisha's weight when it came crashing down on her face. That little girl never messed with her again, so Tanisha didn't feel like holding grudges.
Besides, that was dumbassery from two years ago. There was way bigger matters to deal with.
Tanisha stood up from her spot, keeping one hand on the shotgun and keeping the barrel pointed at the ground.
"Well, to go over the madness of today," she said to Tom, "Ned just died. We were attacked by Justin, but someone else appeared and shot Ned. I didn't see who it was, but they and Justin ran away."
Tanisha ran her free hand through her wet hair, trying to push it out of her face.
"So yeah, we'll know who did that tomorrow, but otherwise, Justin's a prick you guys should avoid if you can."
Besides, that was dumbassery from two years ago. There was way bigger matters to deal with.
Tanisha stood up from her spot, keeping one hand on the shotgun and keeping the barrel pointed at the ground.
"Well, to go over the madness of today," she said to Tom, "Ned just died. We were attacked by Justin, but someone else appeared and shot Ned. I didn't see who it was, but they and Justin ran away."
Tanisha ran her free hand through her wet hair, trying to push it out of her face.
"So yeah, we'll know who did that tomorrow, but otherwise, Justin's a prick you guys should avoid if you can."
“How’s it hanging, guys?"
"Average size, a little to the left," Tom said absently. Damn, he was funny. Cracking wise. A Swift mind made for a quick wit.
"Everyone managing to avoid getting shot? I know I am.”
The gunshot rang out in his head again. The one by the cliffs. The one when they'd...first woken up. His grandad's wan, washed-out face. Death's shadow heavy over him.
They were all a little closer than they had been, and the gun in Tanisha's hands made Tom's skin crawl. He swallowed against his fear, shuddered against the rain and the weight of the shadow hanging over him. "I'm sorry," he said, with no trace of humor in his voice.
"Average size, a little to the left," Tom said absently. Damn, he was funny. Cracking wise. A Swift mind made for a quick wit.
"Everyone managing to avoid getting shot? I know I am.”
The gunshot rang out in his head again. The one by the cliffs. The one when they'd...first woken up. His grandad's wan, washed-out face. Death's shadow heavy over him.
They were all a little closer than they had been, and the gun in Tanisha's hands made Tom's skin crawl. He swallowed against his fear, shuddered against the rain and the weight of the shadow hanging over him. "I'm sorry," he said, with no trace of humor in his voice.
Those Whose Time Has Come]
Terra Johnson (female student no. 73, DECEASED): Oh...duh...Abel's...dead...the one who...lives is...
Tom Swift (male student no. 60): It didn't matter what he wanted anymore.
Daria Bhatia (female student no. 56): "I pity you, and everyone who knows you. Because if you can live with this, I don't...I don't think you're human anymore.”
Terra Johnson (female student no. 73, DECEASED): Oh...duh...Abel's...dead...the one who...lives is...
Tom Swift (male student no. 60): It didn't matter what he wanted anymore.
Daria Bhatia (female student no. 56): "I pity you, and everyone who knows you. Because if you can live with this, I don't...I don't think you're human anymore.”
-
BlizzardeyeWonder
- Posts: 682
- Joined: Mon Aug 13, 2018 3:41 pm
- Location: The Zone™
Camilla stopped a little bit away from the girl with the gun. The other one said something about average size, left- to her right, that is. That was where Lizzie was, and she held a pair of blades. Camilla didn't like that.
Her eyes that had started looking to Lizzie's face had dropped to stare at the blades. It felt like everyone had something to defend themselves with except her. If a fight was to start right now, she'd have to run if she didn't want to be the first one to die. Yet, some part of her mind told her to not run in such a situation.
A death by garden shears would be rather nasty, she imagined. The thought shut that part of her mind up, for now.
But then again, would a death by a gunshot, as it should have been, be any better? There was no guarantee she'd die right away after all. Beryl suffered so much, if only, if only-
"Well, I wish I didn't," she flatly replied to Lizzie's question. She paused- then threw in a mirthless laugh. Just kidding. She didn't really want to die, she just didn't want to be here and nobody did but Beryl didn't deserve to go like that, God just snuffed out the light when they needed it most and He had been doing that over and over and over and why were they dead when Camilla wasn't?
Her eyes that had started looking to Lizzie's face had dropped to stare at the blades. It felt like everyone had something to defend themselves with except her. If a fight was to start right now, she'd have to run if she didn't want to be the first one to die. Yet, some part of her mind told her to not run in such a situation.
A death by garden shears would be rather nasty, she imagined. The thought shut that part of her mind up, for now.
But then again, would a death by a gunshot, as it should have been, be any better? There was no guarantee she'd die right away after all. Beryl suffered so much, if only, if only-
"Well, I wish I didn't," she flatly replied to Lizzie's question. She paused- then threw in a mirthless laugh. Just kidding. She didn't really want to die, she just didn't want to be here and nobody did but Beryl didn't deserve to go like that, God just snuffed out the light when they needed it most and He had been doing that over and over and over and why were they dead when Camilla wasn't?
"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"
You know what was a worse feeling than showing off your flexibility by sticking your foot down your own throat with an awkward joke about not getting shot? When the person who you were showing off your acrobatics too was still holding a shotgun and still probably not a big fan of yours. Even if Tanisha was definitely a big fan of something in some capacity.
“Thanks for the tip.” was her remarkably low-key response, with only a single finger-gun of acknowledgement. “I’ll avoid any Justins then.”
The only Justin she could think of was a Justin Green, who apart from a face and a heavyset build in the halls she could remember absolutely nothing about. Well, guess she’d have to watch out for any heavyset guys who may or may not have been Justin.
She was pondering that when Camilla broke the awkward silence with her own attempt at humour, question mark citation needed. Lizzie turned to her with a rather shocked expression, only breaking out into her own forced awkward sympathy chuckle after a second too long spent trying to read the mood. That was the thing about self-depreciating humour: it was really difficult to work with when you were with people you didn’t know that well, and it was just a tiny bit harder when anyone could die at any second.
“Yeah, uh, I’m glad you haven’t been shot. Sounds like that’s happened to enough people already. Got to keep the chin up as long as we can, right? Keep on trucking until-"
She cut off. An end to that sentence did not exist.
“Thanks for the tip.” was her remarkably low-key response, with only a single finger-gun of acknowledgement. “I’ll avoid any Justins then.”
The only Justin she could think of was a Justin Green, who apart from a face and a heavyset build in the halls she could remember absolutely nothing about. Well, guess she’d have to watch out for any heavyset guys who may or may not have been Justin.
She was pondering that when Camilla broke the awkward silence with her own attempt at humour, question mark citation needed. Lizzie turned to her with a rather shocked expression, only breaking out into her own forced awkward sympathy chuckle after a second too long spent trying to read the mood. That was the thing about self-depreciating humour: it was really difficult to work with when you were with people you didn’t know that well, and it was just a tiny bit harder when anyone could die at any second.
“Yeah, uh, I’m glad you haven’t been shot. Sounds like that’s happened to enough people already. Got to keep the chin up as long as we can, right? Keep on trucking until-"
She cut off. An end to that sentence did not exist.
Tanisha looked around at the trio around her. It was quite an odd group, as odd as the last group she was in. She started to wonder if she could realistically travel and ally with these folks. It hadn't worked so far, but maybe it'd turn around. But then again, it could easily go wrong.
Tanisha groaned a little and sighed. No, it wasn't good to think that way. That was just anxiety creeping in. Tanisha had lost people she cared about even before this island, and she had to work as hard as damn possible to rise above it. Her siblings and her dad wouldn't like to know that she gave in.
Tanisha brushed her hair back again, trying to keep it slicked back with the rain. It was starting to get a bit cold just staying here. She should probably get indoors before she got sick.
"Hey, listen y'all," she said to the group. "I wanna find some shelter to get out of the rain. I'm not going back to town though, if there's at least two dangerous people running around there. I'll take my chances elsewhere."
"But if any of y'all feel like resisting the insanity of this game, I'm your gal. So, anyone feel like getting out of here?"
Tanisha groaned a little and sighed. No, it wasn't good to think that way. That was just anxiety creeping in. Tanisha had lost people she cared about even before this island, and she had to work as hard as damn possible to rise above it. Her siblings and her dad wouldn't like to know that she gave in.
Tanisha brushed her hair back again, trying to keep it slicked back with the rain. It was starting to get a bit cold just staying here. She should probably get indoors before she got sick.
"Hey, listen y'all," she said to the group. "I wanna find some shelter to get out of the rain. I'm not going back to town though, if there's at least two dangerous people running around there. I'll take my chances elsewhere."
"But if any of y'all feel like resisting the insanity of this game, I'm your gal. So, anyone feel like getting out of here?"
[assuming we're exiting thread now?]
So they stood together, huddled against the driving rain, acidic and acerbic and uncertain. In spite of his shivering, and in spite of his fears and doubts, he was glad he wasn't alone. He was so tired of being afraid.
“Yeah, uh, I’m glad you haven’t been shot. Sounds like that’s happened to enough people already. Got to keep the chin up as long as we can, right? Keep on trucking until-"
She broke off. The shadow pressed down upon Tom's shoulders, sodden with the weight of the rain, colder than ice. Tom looked between them, and didn't know what to say.
Tanisha did.
"...if any of y'all feel like resisting the insanity of this game, I'm your gal. So, anyone feel like getting out of here?"
For a moment, there was no shadow weighing down on him. For a moment, he was weightless. He lifted his eyes up and stared at her in disbelief.
When she said get out of here...what did she mean? Out of the rain? Or out of the island? Out of the game?
"Yeah, I could be a little less wet," Tom stuttered, and barely refrained from making an ill-advised "that's what she said" joke. "Lead the way."
(Tom Swift concluded in Leviathan)
So they stood together, huddled against the driving rain, acidic and acerbic and uncertain. In spite of his shivering, and in spite of his fears and doubts, he was glad he wasn't alone. He was so tired of being afraid.
“Yeah, uh, I’m glad you haven’t been shot. Sounds like that’s happened to enough people already. Got to keep the chin up as long as we can, right? Keep on trucking until-"
She broke off. The shadow pressed down upon Tom's shoulders, sodden with the weight of the rain, colder than ice. Tom looked between them, and didn't know what to say.
Tanisha did.
"...if any of y'all feel like resisting the insanity of this game, I'm your gal. So, anyone feel like getting out of here?"
For a moment, there was no shadow weighing down on him. For a moment, he was weightless. He lifted his eyes up and stared at her in disbelief.
When she said get out of here...what did she mean? Out of the rain? Or out of the island? Out of the game?
"Yeah, I could be a little less wet," Tom stuttered, and barely refrained from making an ill-advised "that's what she said" joke. "Lead the way."
(Tom Swift concluded in Leviathan)
Those Whose Time Has Come]
Terra Johnson (female student no. 73, DECEASED): Oh...duh...Abel's...dead...the one who...lives is...
Tom Swift (male student no. 60): It didn't matter what he wanted anymore.
Daria Bhatia (female student no. 56): "I pity you, and everyone who knows you. Because if you can live with this, I don't...I don't think you're human anymore.”
Terra Johnson (female student no. 73, DECEASED): Oh...duh...Abel's...dead...the one who...lives is...
Tom Swift (male student no. 60): It didn't matter what he wanted anymore.
Daria Bhatia (female student no. 56): "I pity you, and everyone who knows you. Because if you can live with this, I don't...I don't think you're human anymore.”
-
BlizzardeyeWonder
- Posts: 682
- Joined: Mon Aug 13, 2018 3:41 pm
- Location: The Zone™
"I-"
Camilla's breath caught in her throat. The rain seemed deafening, and whispered reminders into her ear.
"Actually... I'm already part of a group. Partnership. Thing," she shakily explained. "She- she'll be looking for me. I-"
It occurred to her nobody cared about why she ended up here, just as she didn't care for their reasons. Their weapons loomed larger in her mind than their faces, though both were right in front of her.
"I should go. But I wish you all luck, I- I guess we're doing the same thing, just..."
She took in a deep breath. When she let it out, she had nothing to say. She simply nodded, turned, and walked away.
All the way back, in the back of her mind, she scolded herself for being so rude. To everyone. So selfish.
[Camilla Bell continued in The Sweet Smell of Blood on a Summer Breeze]
Camilla's breath caught in her throat. The rain seemed deafening, and whispered reminders into her ear.
"Actually... I'm already part of a group. Partnership. Thing," she shakily explained. "She- she'll be looking for me. I-"
It occurred to her nobody cared about why she ended up here, just as she didn't care for their reasons. Their weapons loomed larger in her mind than their faces, though both were right in front of her.
"I should go. But I wish you all luck, I- I guess we're doing the same thing, just..."
She took in a deep breath. When she let it out, she had nothing to say. She simply nodded, turned, and walked away.
All the way back, in the back of her mind, she scolded herself for being so rude. To everyone. So selfish.
[Camilla Bell continued in The Sweet Smell of Blood on a Summer Breeze]
"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"