((Marcus Volker: Game Start!))
This was fine... This was just a dumb dream. Sure, the rifle in his hands felt real. Sure, this place felt real, but every dream feels real. They couldn't have taken him! This always happened before the trip, not after. But this little vertigo feeling, everything tilted on it's side? Yeah, there was no way this was real. This house was sideways. Houses weren't sideways! They weren't green or all apocalyptic looking either! The way everything was all tilted reminded him of those fun houses in Gatlinburg.
Marco moved his way down the halls before turning a corner, and seeing bright sunlight pour into the hall. "What the fuck?" Marco mused as he moved towards the light, before noticing there was a big friggen hole. He turned and looked at the area, and had to catch himself on the corner of the gash, or else he'd risk falling an extra floor down into... some sort of boiler room? "The fuck?" Marco questioned again, as he moved the rifle to one hand and shimmied along the portion of floorboard that wasn't collapsed in, making his way towards the sunlight. As he made his way to the edge, he got an eyeful of the island in front of him.
Marco gulped nervously. The collar pressed against his throat, and told him all he needed to know.
Fact one, he had an M4.
Fact two, this wasn't a house, this was a boat.
Fact three, this was an island the boat was beached upon.
Fact four, and most importantly this wasn't a dream.
…
…
"Yeah, OKAY! Fuck me I guess!" Marco looked around the hole, before stepping back into the hallway. Marco kicked at the messed up portions of the wall, his heart beating through his chest. He couldn't register this shit right now, he just didn't know what to do. Like, yeah, he was scared, but like, he didn't feel like he was reacting right. He walked back down the hall until he went through another doorway leading outside, onto the deck of the yacht.
Yeah. This was real.
Marco turned his head from side to side, turning around, aimlessly. Honestly of all the emotions he was feeling right now, the main one was confused. He REALLY did not know what the fuck he was gonna do right now.
Holiday in Cambodia.
Tagging Sh4de! After that, open!
[[Arjen continued from Als op een winternacht een reiziger]]
A boat. A bridge. And on the ground of that bridge was lying a teenager inbetween the screens.
Arjen slowly opened his groggy eyes and woke up from his thoughts about who he was dying for and why this... His head was still feeling high from the drugs and he had a hard time coping with the sunlight piercing his eyes.
This was not a dream.
His pupils quickly adjusted to the light surrounding him and his heart began to beat harder as he heard someone loudly shouting, dragging him away from his mind's thoughts. Arjen looked around him and found his bag, labelled B075. That must have been him. He was a boy. He was number 75.
His designated weapon, on the ground, a big sword.
SOTF, eh?
The voice returned once again, Arjen quickly stood up but had a hard time finding the balance. He was feeling sick. He was in some kind of boat right now. Where they shipped right now? He grabbed the bag. He grabbed the handle of the sword. He felt like falling down to the ground. The balance was hard to keep. He pointed the sword downwards, grinding it on the ground, using it as a crutch as he walked forward to approach the stairs.
Upwards he went, stair by stair, stair by stair. Feeling dizzy. It was the gas. It was the adrenaline. It was the ship.
He reached the final step up to the deck and then fell down. Face first, dropping the sword which slided down.
The ship was tilted.
A boat. A bridge. And on the ground of that bridge was lying a teenager inbetween the screens.
Arjen slowly opened his groggy eyes and woke up from his thoughts about who he was dying for and why this... His head was still feeling high from the drugs and he had a hard time coping with the sunlight piercing his eyes.
This was not a dream.
His pupils quickly adjusted to the light surrounding him and his heart began to beat harder as he heard someone loudly shouting, dragging him away from his mind's thoughts. Arjen looked around him and found his bag, labelled B075. That must have been him. He was a boy. He was number 75.
His designated weapon, on the ground, a big sword.
SOTF, eh?
The voice returned once again, Arjen quickly stood up but had a hard time finding the balance. He was feeling sick. He was in some kind of boat right now. Where they shipped right now? He grabbed the bag. He grabbed the handle of the sword. He felt like falling down to the ground. The balance was hard to keep. He pointed the sword downwards, grinding it on the ground, using it as a crutch as he walked forward to approach the stairs.
Upwards he went, stair by stair, stair by stair. Feeling dizzy. It was the gas. It was the adrenaline. It was the ship.
He reached the final step up to the deck and then fell down. Face first, dropping the sword which slided down.
The ship was tilted.
The sound of a loud ‘THUNK’ behind Marco made him nearly jump out of his skin. “EEEEP!” Marco swiveled and pointed the M4 at the sound.
There was another dude laying on his face. Where the fuck did he come from? Did the terrorists just airdrop him in? Was he pushed off the upper deck by someone? Marco moved closer to the prone figure, he had a sword about as big as him and Marc didn’t want to take any chances and get impaled Cannibal Holocaust style... Devil knows this would be the perfect place for some ‘sploitation film hijinks.
“If you’re okay just give me a signal or something, just speak or nod your head, just don’t do some spazzy shit, I’m armed.”
Marco lowered his rifle when he decided that they weren’t a threat. He recognized the guy. He was alright, for the most part. He was geeky and a weirdo, but so was Marco so he couldn’t say much.
“Shit Arjen... my bad. You’re good.”
There was another dude laying on his face. Where the fuck did he come from? Did the terrorists just airdrop him in? Was he pushed off the upper deck by someone? Marco moved closer to the prone figure, he had a sword about as big as him and Marc didn’t want to take any chances and get impaled Cannibal Holocaust style... Devil knows this would be the perfect place for some ‘sploitation film hijinks.
“If you’re okay just give me a signal or something, just speak or nod your head, just don’t do some spazzy shit, I’m armed.”
Marco lowered his rifle when he decided that they weren’t a threat. He recognized the guy. He was alright, for the most part. He was geeky and a weirdo, but so was Marco so he couldn’t say much.
“Shit Arjen... my bad. You’re good.”
Ah, shit. His nose was bleeding. Arjen could already smell the irony scent of his own blood and could feel a liquid dropping down his nose. When he looked up it wasn't better - a gun was pointed at him. Worst of all, Marco was holding the gun. Marco was this weird kid with ADHD, if he remembered correctly. Maybe Arjen was wrong, and even if he was right he shouldn't judge someone for their mental disorders.
It looked like Marco was not hostile. In fact, he seemed to care for Arjen's well being. He felt relief.
Arjen smirked at Marco, nose still bleeding.
"What a shitty trip."
It looked like Marco was not hostile. In fact, he seemed to care for Arjen's well being. He felt relief.
Arjen smirked at Marco, nose still bleeding.
"What a shitty trip."
“Yeah, kinda...”
Marco lent out a hand to help Arjen up, his other resting the barrel of his rifle on Marco’s shoulder. “Could be worse though.” Marco smiled his gap toothed grin.
...
....
“Okay, maybe it couldn’t be worse, but that’s good too, I guess. I mean, yeah right now we’re at rock bottom, so the only way for us is up I guess.”
Marco eyed the scene. This location could be good right now. They could hole up here for a bit, but they were also pretty exposed if they had to get out too.
“So... what’s your plan, puppet man?”
Marco lent out a hand to help Arjen up, his other resting the barrel of his rifle on Marco’s shoulder. “Could be worse though.” Marco smiled his gap toothed grin.
...
....
“Okay, maybe it couldn’t be worse, but that’s good too, I guess. I mean, yeah right now we’re at rock bottom, so the only way for us is up I guess.”
Marco eyed the scene. This location could be good right now. They could hole up here for a bit, but they were also pretty exposed if they had to get out too.
“So... what’s your plan, puppet man?”
-
MurderWeasel
- Posts: 2566
- Joined: Thu Aug 09, 2018 1:37 am
((Juliette Sargent continued from Juliette Sargent For Survival Of The Fittest Version Seven Winner))
"Marco," Juliette called, "never have I ever been so happy to see you."
Faint praise, perhaps. She'd made her way up the stairs in the wake of Arjen, though had not seen him as she did so. She saw him now, however, lying on the deck with a bloody nose, a sword with a rippling blade scattered downslope from him. Marco held an assault rifle. It made as much sense as anything here; she would not rail against fate. The gun certainly could've been in worse hands.
The air up here was fresher, the scent of ocean mixing with the stench of damaged and dying machinery and coming up stronger. The sun was bright, the skies clear, and while it was warm it was also beautiful. Out away from land, waves crested and broke with morning light glimmering along them. It was quite a contrast to the grungy, motley companions she found herself looking at, and that judgement was not aimed at the seagulls perched off on the railing at the far side of the deck.
"Arjen." She gave him a nod and a smile. It was easy to smile for Juliette, even in this sort of situation. It was easy to keep her tone light and normal, conversational, casual. It was trivial because she almost meant it, and that was more than could be said for so many of her days at school.
The simple fact was, nobody here was in for a good time. They would all suffer together, no preferential treatment, no reprieve. It was egalitarian, in a way. Fair. So unlike the world she'd called home until today.
Ms. Garcia had really been unfortunately unqualified. Juliette had idly wondered from time to time whether she'd secured her position through nepotism. She was too young, too pushy, too insecure. Now she was dead. That was how it went sometimes, try your hardest to fake it 'til you made it and die before it could happen.
"Either of you need a hand?"
"Marco," Juliette called, "never have I ever been so happy to see you."
Faint praise, perhaps. She'd made her way up the stairs in the wake of Arjen, though had not seen him as she did so. She saw him now, however, lying on the deck with a bloody nose, a sword with a rippling blade scattered downslope from him. Marco held an assault rifle. It made as much sense as anything here; she would not rail against fate. The gun certainly could've been in worse hands.
The air up here was fresher, the scent of ocean mixing with the stench of damaged and dying machinery and coming up stronger. The sun was bright, the skies clear, and while it was warm it was also beautiful. Out away from land, waves crested and broke with morning light glimmering along them. It was quite a contrast to the grungy, motley companions she found herself looking at, and that judgement was not aimed at the seagulls perched off on the railing at the far side of the deck.
"Arjen." She gave him a nod and a smile. It was easy to smile for Juliette, even in this sort of situation. It was easy to keep her tone light and normal, conversational, casual. It was trivial because she almost meant it, and that was more than could be said for so many of her days at school.
The simple fact was, nobody here was in for a good time. They would all suffer together, no preferential treatment, no reprieve. It was egalitarian, in a way. Fair. So unlike the world she'd called home until today.
Ms. Garcia had really been unfortunately unqualified. Juliette had idly wondered from time to time whether she'd secured her position through nepotism. She was too young, too pushy, too insecure. Now she was dead. That was how it went sometimes, try your hardest to fake it 'til you made it and die before it could happen.
"Either of you need a hand?"
-
Somersault
- Posts: 312
- Joined: Wed Aug 15, 2018 8:56 am
So, this was what her entire life had come to. The hours of studying, creating yearbook spreads, all those visits to the shelter, they all came to this. All of her life was coming to an abrupt halt, her dreams, forever deferred? After all of this?
It sucked. It really, really, really sucked.
[G065 - Kelly Nguyen START]
So, fine, maybe it was a little bit selfish, and it really was, yeah, but didn't she deserve to live? She had always done everything right, always studied hard, never cheated, even smiled at yearbook meetings even if she would rather bash her own head in rather than congratulate him, never once ceasing. Never once stopping. And this was how it was going to end? Killed by someone she had worked so hard to get to like her? It couldn't be like this. It wouldn't be like this, dying here on this island in the middle of nowhere, right?
This was the exam she had never prepared for, her mind blank. There was nothing to draw from, no notes, no study diagrams, nothing except her own mortality staring her in the face like a broken mirror. All she had was a rubber chicken, and all she smelled was the sea. Salt, bitter, bruising, another reminder of all that she left behind, all that was left for her here.
Objectively speaking, there wasn't a large chance for her to win, by any measure. She was tiny, had a penchant for creating nice looks rather than swinging right hooks, and fine, sometimes desperate for approval. She wanted to be liked, of course, always, but if being liked meant being dead?
Well, maybe then it was okay to be the enemy.
Her flats provided next to no traction on the boat, and maybe whatever they put in the bus was messing with her legs, but no matter what she did, she felt like she was slipping. Kelly grasped the railing of the deck, searching for some kind of support to see her through this, and slowly, surely, she inched her way forward, forward towards an uncertain future glimmering in the light, and as she continued, she spotted people.
"Oh, hi!"
Marco, who yes, was kind of weird, and so was Arjen, but it was okay, smiles and general questions were enough to pique their questions, and Juliette. Oh, Juliette, with her plans, her charisma, her way with words, carefully placed just like that. Kelly had once wished to be that, and she was still trying, at least sort of.
She pursed her lips, and tried to sink into the routine, the practiced one, the smile just light enough to imply friendliness, with the steady tone of voice for when she really didn't feel like talking any longer.
"I could help too, if you guys wouldn't mind."
She was still helpful, still okay, still had to be helpful, had to be kind, at least for now. Her future was still there. It just had to be...postponed.
It sucked. It really, really, really sucked.
[G065 - Kelly Nguyen START]
So, fine, maybe it was a little bit selfish, and it really was, yeah, but didn't she deserve to live? She had always done everything right, always studied hard, never cheated, even smiled at yearbook meetings even if she would rather bash her own head in rather than congratulate him, never once ceasing. Never once stopping. And this was how it was going to end? Killed by someone she had worked so hard to get to like her? It couldn't be like this. It wouldn't be like this, dying here on this island in the middle of nowhere, right?
This was the exam she had never prepared for, her mind blank. There was nothing to draw from, no notes, no study diagrams, nothing except her own mortality staring her in the face like a broken mirror. All she had was a rubber chicken, and all she smelled was the sea. Salt, bitter, bruising, another reminder of all that she left behind, all that was left for her here.
Objectively speaking, there wasn't a large chance for her to win, by any measure. She was tiny, had a penchant for creating nice looks rather than swinging right hooks, and fine, sometimes desperate for approval. She wanted to be liked, of course, always, but if being liked meant being dead?
Well, maybe then it was okay to be the enemy.
Her flats provided next to no traction on the boat, and maybe whatever they put in the bus was messing with her legs, but no matter what she did, she felt like she was slipping. Kelly grasped the railing of the deck, searching for some kind of support to see her through this, and slowly, surely, she inched her way forward, forward towards an uncertain future glimmering in the light, and as she continued, she spotted people.
"Oh, hi!"
Marco, who yes, was kind of weird, and so was Arjen, but it was okay, smiles and general questions were enough to pique their questions, and Juliette. Oh, Juliette, with her plans, her charisma, her way with words, carefully placed just like that. Kelly had once wished to be that, and she was still trying, at least sort of.
She pursed her lips, and tried to sink into the routine, the practiced one, the smile just light enough to imply friendliness, with the steady tone of voice for when she really didn't feel like talking any longer.
"I could help too, if you guys wouldn't mind."
She was still helpful, still okay, still had to be helpful, had to be kind, at least for now. Her future was still there. It just had to be...postponed.
Puppet man, huh? That was what Arjen was for Marco. He reduced him to a hobby like he was some kind of joke. Maybe he meant it as a friendly gesture and he shouldn't think about it too much. Then again, that was what a lot of people thought about him. Puppet man.
Arjen slowly stood up, still feeling dizzy and still afraid of falling over again. Then more people came from around everywhere and their reaction to their situation was baffling.
"Wh-Why are all of you smiling? Why are you smiling? Why are you happy?"
Arjen began to laugh, smile, mirroring the people standing around him, a big wide mouth, but with eyes that signalled desperation.
"Don't you understand? We're all dead. Dead. Do you know what that means? Dead. Muerte. We're donezo. We're never gonna see our...We're never gonna see our..."
Arjen stepped closer to Marco and grabbed the black metallic collar around Marco's neck with both of his hands, trying to pull Marco closer to him. Then he whined.
"I wanna go home."
Let this be a dream..
Arjen slowly stood up, still feeling dizzy and still afraid of falling over again. Then more people came from around everywhere and their reaction to their situation was baffling.
"Wh-Why are all of you smiling? Why are you smiling? Why are you happy?"
Arjen began to laugh, smile, mirroring the people standing around him, a big wide mouth, but with eyes that signalled desperation.
"Don't you understand? We're all dead. Dead. Do you know what that means? Dead. Muerte. We're donezo. We're never gonna see our...We're never gonna see our..."
Arjen stepped closer to Marco and grabbed the black metallic collar around Marco's neck with both of his hands, trying to pull Marco closer to him. Then he whined.
"I wanna go home."
Let this be a dream..
Two more joined into the scene. Kelly and Juliette popped up, did greetings, asked if they needed help. "Nah, we're good! He just dinky di'd himself down the stairs, at worst he'll probably need a tissue or so-" Arjen got up and asked some weird cryptic shit. He... Okay, maybe he wasn't okay. Maybe he was fucking breaking or something, but right now he's really giving Marco the creeps and he didn't like it too muc-
He grabbed Marco by the collar. Arjen just straight up put his hands around his neck- "AAAAAAIII Back off!" Marco used his m4, one hand grabbing the buttstock, the other grabbing the handrails, and pushed it into Arjen's chest, shoving him back as Marco himself took two steps backwards. "Okay, first off, never do that shit again!" Marco brought one arm up, just as a bit of protection in case Arjen tries that again with his sword. "Second, calm the fuck down. If you don't panic, you'll be fine. There's four of us, at least two of us got good shit, and we're in kind of a safe area. Relax, none of us are dying today."
Arjen was kind of right though. In the long run, they'd all were gonna be dead, most likely. Every time this happened, people fell in, people killed each other, shit happened. This wasn't one of his games. This wasn't Atomic Winter, this was SOTF. But maybe, in a way they were a lot alike.
"I mean, we're good. Besides, like, I'm kind of an expert on this type of shit. Like when I played Ayy- Dubya, a lot of the same shit kind of goes down. People make groups, and people either mug and kill each other, or they find other groups to make bigger groups. Nobody gets mugged unless they're alone or they look defenseless. The look is literally the most important part. If you look scared or vulnerable, people are gonna take advantage of it and merk you. But if you look like you know what you're doing, and you don't give a shit, people won't fuck with you."
He looked at everyone else. Nobody else was panicking, nobody else was freaking out. They showed up, and first things they asked were if they could help. That was a good sign. He turned back to Arjen. "Listen Arj, shit's bad, but like, we can't lose our minds yet or we'll eat shit. We're ALL scared, but we can't let anyone see that. Even if we're all geared up, if you're there looking unsure of yourself, your painting a target on your own back, and anyone you're with. Just relax, and we'll be fine."
He looked back at Kelly and Juliette. "Actually, we might need a little bit of help, let's patch up Arjen, make sure his nose is fine."
He grabbed Marco by the collar. Arjen just straight up put his hands around his neck- "AAAAAAIII Back off!" Marco used his m4, one hand grabbing the buttstock, the other grabbing the handrails, and pushed it into Arjen's chest, shoving him back as Marco himself took two steps backwards. "Okay, first off, never do that shit again!" Marco brought one arm up, just as a bit of protection in case Arjen tries that again with his sword. "Second, calm the fuck down. If you don't panic, you'll be fine. There's four of us, at least two of us got good shit, and we're in kind of a safe area. Relax, none of us are dying today."
Arjen was kind of right though. In the long run, they'd all were gonna be dead, most likely. Every time this happened, people fell in, people killed each other, shit happened. This wasn't one of his games. This wasn't Atomic Winter, this was SOTF. But maybe, in a way they were a lot alike.
"I mean, we're good. Besides, like, I'm kind of an expert on this type of shit. Like when I played Ayy- Dubya, a lot of the same shit kind of goes down. People make groups, and people either mug and kill each other, or they find other groups to make bigger groups. Nobody gets mugged unless they're alone or they look defenseless. The look is literally the most important part. If you look scared or vulnerable, people are gonna take advantage of it and merk you. But if you look like you know what you're doing, and you don't give a shit, people won't fuck with you."
He looked at everyone else. Nobody else was panicking, nobody else was freaking out. They showed up, and first things they asked were if they could help. That was a good sign. He turned back to Arjen. "Listen Arj, shit's bad, but like, we can't lose our minds yet or we'll eat shit. We're ALL scared, but we can't let anyone see that. Even if we're all geared up, if you're there looking unsure of yourself, your painting a target on your own back, and anyone you're with. Just relax, and we'll be fine."
He looked back at Kelly and Juliette. "Actually, we might need a little bit of help, let's patch up Arjen, make sure his nose is fine."
-
MurderWeasel
- Posts: 2566
- Joined: Thu Aug 09, 2018 1:37 am
"Sounds good," Juliette said. Her smile had just grown as it came under fire. It no longer contained the faintest hint of artifice. Good, she wanted to say to Arjen, good. Good of you to notice. But that wouldn't be the most diplomatic thing, and Juliette wasn't here to incite the boys with guns and swords.
"And," she continued, "of course I understand. It is what it is and I can't change it, but I can choose how I approach it and frankly I'd rather not spend my last few days sobbing in a corner."
It was incredibly easy to let go of all the things she'd been so worried about for so long and just speak her mind, or at least a part of it. Doing so was liberating, breathed optimism and vigor into her body and soul. It didn't matter that she was standing amidst the wreckage of a ship on some long-forgotten island with her classmates most likely already killing each other. It didn't matter that all of them would find pain, and most of them death. It was a beautiful day. Every breath was salty and humid and deep, and she really found she didn't give a damn about Arjen's crying. He wanted to go home? How very sad for him. How unique, his predicament. Maybe he should explain very slowly and carefully to the cameras, and once their captors understood the depths of his desire their cold stony hearts would melt and they'd let him and only him leave.
The splashing of waves against blasted hull truly was nice.
Juliette crossed towards the boys, steps slow and measured, each one clonking as lifted heel impacted steel flooring. Aside from these shoes, all she had in her pack were some flimsy slip-ons and a pair of sandals. That might be a problem in the future. She was no athlete and despised workout wear.
"Kelly," she said, "get out your first aid kit and give Arjen a hug. I don't think Marco's feeling touchy."
Kelly had showed up in there somewhere. That fact didn't feel as important as it might once have. Juliette liked Kelly quite a bit—the girl was kind, caring, and genuine, making her profoundly unsuited for their current situation unless she was hiding something, but also leaving her in a good spot to comfort the panicking boy and at least seem like she meant it. Marco was more liable to beat Arjen if the boy kept grabbing, and while Juliette certainly could offer her own arms, mm, no, that was a lot of blood and snot and clean, neat clothes were suddenly a finite resource.
Besides, people were more prone to react appropriately in a disaster situation if called out by name and delegated tasks, and that was her job. Juliette knew a lot about the bystander effect, including that the biggest defense against it was awareness of it.
"Marco, can you keep track of the sword? I'll get a wipe from Kelly's kit and get working on the blood."
That would let her adjust her actions to the situation while retaining freedom of movement, and would concentrate their little group's arsenal in the best manner possible. Marco was scattered and unreliable as a person, but he also had an assault rifle so if he decided to go off on them the addition of the sword lying on the ground wouldn't make much difference. Parceling the weapon-watching duty to herself would rightly arouse suspicion from everyone present, and Kelly, if she was as good as her offer, would have her hands full anyways. And if she wasn't, well, Juliette saw no reason to arm her.
"And," she continued, "of course I understand. It is what it is and I can't change it, but I can choose how I approach it and frankly I'd rather not spend my last few days sobbing in a corner."
It was incredibly easy to let go of all the things she'd been so worried about for so long and just speak her mind, or at least a part of it. Doing so was liberating, breathed optimism and vigor into her body and soul. It didn't matter that she was standing amidst the wreckage of a ship on some long-forgotten island with her classmates most likely already killing each other. It didn't matter that all of them would find pain, and most of them death. It was a beautiful day. Every breath was salty and humid and deep, and she really found she didn't give a damn about Arjen's crying. He wanted to go home? How very sad for him. How unique, his predicament. Maybe he should explain very slowly and carefully to the cameras, and once their captors understood the depths of his desire their cold stony hearts would melt and they'd let him and only him leave.
The splashing of waves against blasted hull truly was nice.
Juliette crossed towards the boys, steps slow and measured, each one clonking as lifted heel impacted steel flooring. Aside from these shoes, all she had in her pack were some flimsy slip-ons and a pair of sandals. That might be a problem in the future. She was no athlete and despised workout wear.
"Kelly," she said, "get out your first aid kit and give Arjen a hug. I don't think Marco's feeling touchy."
Kelly had showed up in there somewhere. That fact didn't feel as important as it might once have. Juliette liked Kelly quite a bit—the girl was kind, caring, and genuine, making her profoundly unsuited for their current situation unless she was hiding something, but also leaving her in a good spot to comfort the panicking boy and at least seem like she meant it. Marco was more liable to beat Arjen if the boy kept grabbing, and while Juliette certainly could offer her own arms, mm, no, that was a lot of blood and snot and clean, neat clothes were suddenly a finite resource.
Besides, people were more prone to react appropriately in a disaster situation if called out by name and delegated tasks, and that was her job. Juliette knew a lot about the bystander effect, including that the biggest defense against it was awareness of it.
"Marco, can you keep track of the sword? I'll get a wipe from Kelly's kit and get working on the blood."
That would let her adjust her actions to the situation while retaining freedom of movement, and would concentrate their little group's arsenal in the best manner possible. Marco was scattered and unreliable as a person, but he also had an assault rifle so if he decided to go off on them the addition of the sword lying on the ground wouldn't make much difference. Parceling the weapon-watching duty to herself would rightly arouse suspicion from everyone present, and Kelly, if she was as good as her offer, would have her hands full anyways. And if she wasn't, well, Juliette saw no reason to arm her.
-
Somersault
- Posts: 312
- Joined: Wed Aug 15, 2018 8:56 am
Kelly was nodding along, small smile still on her face as everyone was saying their piece. She was listening to them talk, she saw Marco shove Arjen away, and through it, the small smile was still on her face. It was creepy, she knew that, and the Kelly of old would've objected to that, would've objected as to how that instantly positioned her as someone who had seemingly lost her mind, but she continued smiling. A strange ease was settling over her, replacing the panic.
It was one of the very first things learned in biology, one of the most basic concepts, but she could remember it plain as day. She remembered penning it down as Ms. Yan spoke, in a hurried yet neat fashion, the text affixed to her brand new notebook, highlighted and color coordinated. It flashed in her head like a spotlight, illuminating everything.
The most basic principle of natural selection was thus: adaptation. Organisms had to adapt to evolve, adapt to survive, or risk being swept away in a world in which they would gradually find themselves unsuitable.
Was that not what was happening before her very eyes? Juliette was acting as she always did, the leader, soft yet strong, poised for compromise and control in the face of catastrophe. However, she was stubborn, clinging on to how things worked in Chattanooga, where she could lead, call out names, and have her business finished up that simply. Even though Kelly found herself following, opening the zipper of her marked duffel to fish out the med kit, handing it to her, she did so mechanically, not because Juliette convinced her, but because it was the most convenient course of action. Marco and Arjen were on the other side of that refusal, then - the outbursts in response to a fate that they surely now dreaded, the tears and the pain, and the muck and the death. But, despite it all, she found herself calm, the eye in the storm, quiet, steady.
She was walking up to Arjen now, smile modified into something that hopefully looked a bit more natural, a bit more somber, a bit more suitable for the occasion. Why was she so calm? Why did she find herself centered despite it all?
"It'll be okay," She stated, sweetly, if almost sickeningly so, the way a child felt after they had had too much Halloween candy. "Need a hug?"
It was, of course, because Kelly had always been adapting, always changing. Her conversation topics, tailored to the wishes of others, her expressions, determined as so in order to keep a conversation moving smoothly along, all to keep things good. All to make things right. Wasn't this just another place to change, another way to adapt and grow? Her future was perhaps brighter now, just a bit, pathway shone right down the line. Another time to change. Probably.
"Just you wait," She whispered, arms wrapping around Arjen's. She was still smiling, even with the blood and snot mixing in with the black of her dress. Her arms were around him tight, hugging him for all he was worth. "Everything will be alright."
Perhaps she was saying that to him, or herself, but the one thing certain was that her smile very much looked entirely made of teeth.
It was one of the very first things learned in biology, one of the most basic concepts, but she could remember it plain as day. She remembered penning it down as Ms. Yan spoke, in a hurried yet neat fashion, the text affixed to her brand new notebook, highlighted and color coordinated. It flashed in her head like a spotlight, illuminating everything.
The most basic principle of natural selection was thus: adaptation. Organisms had to adapt to evolve, adapt to survive, or risk being swept away in a world in which they would gradually find themselves unsuitable.
Was that not what was happening before her very eyes? Juliette was acting as she always did, the leader, soft yet strong, poised for compromise and control in the face of catastrophe. However, she was stubborn, clinging on to how things worked in Chattanooga, where she could lead, call out names, and have her business finished up that simply. Even though Kelly found herself following, opening the zipper of her marked duffel to fish out the med kit, handing it to her, she did so mechanically, not because Juliette convinced her, but because it was the most convenient course of action. Marco and Arjen were on the other side of that refusal, then - the outbursts in response to a fate that they surely now dreaded, the tears and the pain, and the muck and the death. But, despite it all, she found herself calm, the eye in the storm, quiet, steady.
She was walking up to Arjen now, smile modified into something that hopefully looked a bit more natural, a bit more somber, a bit more suitable for the occasion. Why was she so calm? Why did she find herself centered despite it all?
"It'll be okay," She stated, sweetly, if almost sickeningly so, the way a child felt after they had had too much Halloween candy. "Need a hug?"
It was, of course, because Kelly had always been adapting, always changing. Her conversation topics, tailored to the wishes of others, her expressions, determined as so in order to keep a conversation moving smoothly along, all to keep things good. All to make things right. Wasn't this just another place to change, another way to adapt and grow? Her future was perhaps brighter now, just a bit, pathway shone right down the line. Another time to change. Probably.
"Just you wait," She whispered, arms wrapping around Arjen's. She was still smiling, even with the blood and snot mixing in with the black of her dress. Her arms were around him tight, hugging him for all he was worth. "Everything will be alright."
Perhaps she was saying that to him, or herself, but the one thing certain was that her smile very much looked entirely made of teeth.
Arjen stepped back when Marco shoved the M4 into him, then continued by reassuring him that they would not die today. Right after that Marco talked about some stupid video game he played which made his heart pumping blood at a higher speed again. They were so much screwed, they were going to get killed. Plus, Arjen felt nauseaus from the tiltedness of the ship. He wanted to get to the ground, down from this ship as soon as possible.
He couldn't relax, he simply couldn't relax. There was no rational reason to do so. And if everyone knew that he was nervous and scared? That didn't matter. He couldn't fake it, he couldn't fake being happy, there was no reason to.
Juliette then told him that she wouldn't sob in the corner for her last days on earth. Arjen replied: "What else would you do? Kill us?"
Then Kelly came to him and hugged him, leading to him letting even more tears flow simply from feeling a human warmth that connected him with the humans around him, a feeling he might not feel anymore within the next few days.
"We should all cry and sob in the corner, we should all do that," he silently whispered.
He couldn't relax, he simply couldn't relax. There was no rational reason to do so. And if everyone knew that he was nervous and scared? That didn't matter. He couldn't fake it, he couldn't fake being happy, there was no reason to.
Juliette then told him that she wouldn't sob in the corner for her last days on earth. Arjen replied: "What else would you do? Kill us?"
Then Kelly came to him and hugged him, leading to him letting even more tears flow simply from feeling a human warmth that connected him with the humans around him, a feeling he might not feel anymore within the next few days.
"We should all cry and sob in the corner, we should all do that," he silently whispered.
“Alrighty...”
It wasn’t even five minutes in and Marco could feel everyone silently judging him. He wasn’t feeling touchy. That was what Juliette said. Did she not see Arjen shoot up and put his hands around his throat? All he did was push him back, give him a little shove. Don’t do that again was all he said. He didn’t insult him, call him a cry baby or make fun of him, he was reasonable. But Marco could tell.
He could tell that nobody took him seriously, that they thought he didn’t know shit. Hey go watch this sword! Uhhh okay! Yeah, cool. That’s what I’m good for, baby sitting a sword. Whatever...
Marco did his best to hide his disdain, but this whole scenario sucked. Arjen has regressed back into kindergarten, and Kelly and Juliette’s idea of helping him is to... treat him like a kindergartner. He was steadily watching a grown man revert back into a toddler, and quite frankly it was disgusting. I mean yeah, Marco wasn’t exactly your idea of an adult either, his hobby consisted of playing dress up with football pads and leather pants, and slapping people around with foam machetes, but dark lord have mercy! You didn’t see him wallowing in a puddle of his own tears.
Whatever, wasn’t like he was gonna do anything about it. He wasn’t gonna start pointing his rifle around, demanding respect and shit. That’s acting like some sort of neanderthal or something. He wasn’t Ariana, he wasn’t gonna turn to hitting shit and yelling really loud to get what he wanted.
Nope, he’s just gonna sit here, and watch this sword, rocking back and forth on his heels out of boredom, and hope he gets told to do something that actually means shit. Then he’ll either get his chance to prove his worth, or worst case scenario, he’ll take himself and his rifle to a group that’d appreciate his existence just a bit more.
It wasn’t even five minutes in and Marco could feel everyone silently judging him. He wasn’t feeling touchy. That was what Juliette said. Did she not see Arjen shoot up and put his hands around his throat? All he did was push him back, give him a little shove. Don’t do that again was all he said. He didn’t insult him, call him a cry baby or make fun of him, he was reasonable. But Marco could tell.
He could tell that nobody took him seriously, that they thought he didn’t know shit. Hey go watch this sword! Uhhh okay! Yeah, cool. That’s what I’m good for, baby sitting a sword. Whatever...
Marco did his best to hide his disdain, but this whole scenario sucked. Arjen has regressed back into kindergarten, and Kelly and Juliette’s idea of helping him is to... treat him like a kindergartner. He was steadily watching a grown man revert back into a toddler, and quite frankly it was disgusting. I mean yeah, Marco wasn’t exactly your idea of an adult either, his hobby consisted of playing dress up with football pads and leather pants, and slapping people around with foam machetes, but dark lord have mercy! You didn’t see him wallowing in a puddle of his own tears.
Whatever, wasn’t like he was gonna do anything about it. He wasn’t gonna start pointing his rifle around, demanding respect and shit. That’s acting like some sort of neanderthal or something. He wasn’t Ariana, he wasn’t gonna turn to hitting shit and yelling really loud to get what he wanted.
Nope, he’s just gonna sit here, and watch this sword, rocking back and forth on his heels out of boredom, and hope he gets told to do something that actually means shit. Then he’ll either get his chance to prove his worth, or worst case scenario, he’ll take himself and his rifle to a group that’d appreciate his existence just a bit more.
-
MurderWeasel
- Posts: 2566
- Joined: Thu Aug 09, 2018 1:37 am
Everybody present did as they were told, promptly and without too much complaint. Just how Juliette liked it. She took Kelly's first aid kit and opened it up, fishing around for what she needed. She donned a pair of latex gloves, first, not because there was any real risk of blood-borne illness but because she didn't feel like getting messy and it wasn't her own resources she was expending.
The gloves were universally-sized, which meant they were slightly large on her. They were mercifully powder-free. They felt smooth and crinkly at once on her hands, and slightly uncomfortably warm; the sun was high and the air was humid and she would want to find better shelter before too long. Juliette had sunscreen among her possessions, she thought, unless it had been confiscated, but she hated wearing it, despised the way it caked on her skin and left her feeling oily. She preferred to just keep to the shade. There was shade here, but it would likely become extremely hot in the enclosed bowels of the ship, where airflow was poor and high humidity had created a thriving ecosystem of moss and mold.
For the first time she really took in the rest of the nearby area. The rocks their boat was run up against extended inland, to a beach where she could make out a couple of indistinct shapes moving, likely people but way too far away to say for sure. There was a shattered structure off on the far side, and a pier that looked to be in much the same shape. Either this place had been abandoned for a long time, or it had borne the brunt of some catastrophe in the past.
She took out a few of the antiseptic wipes and dabbed at the blood on Arjen's face as Kelly held him. At first she wasn't very confident—she'd gotten certified in first aid long ago, mostly because it looked good on a resume, but remembered precious little of it, and besides it wasn't like there'd been a practical cleaning-blood demonstration—but before long she figured to use strokes moving to the sides of his face, folding and refolding the wipes so that she was always using a clean part. Pretty soon he looked generally presentable.
That took care of the blood that had pooled, but more was slowly dripping, it seemed like. Juliette was fortunate not to get nosebleeds often, but when she did they tended to last a long time. Perhaps it was because she hated the idea of shoving wads of tissue or cotton up her nose. She thought the image that presented so undignified, animalistic even, in this way she could not quite articulate. But Arjen presumably didn't share her hangups, and if he did he could figure it out for himself. She tore two small strips of gauze, wadded them into little plugs, and held them out to him.
"For your nostrils," she said, with a nod.
He could shove stuff up his own nose; there was only so far gloves would go.
Speaking of, her work was more or less done. She snapped Kelly's first aid kit shut again, leaving a few bloody smears along its case, and set it down, then carefully shucked the gloves, letting them turn inside out to contain their rusty adornment. She tossed them casually to the side.
"I don't know about all of you," Juliette said, smile returning to replace the look of concentration she'd worn while she worked, "but I feel much better."
The gloves were universally-sized, which meant they were slightly large on her. They were mercifully powder-free. They felt smooth and crinkly at once on her hands, and slightly uncomfortably warm; the sun was high and the air was humid and she would want to find better shelter before too long. Juliette had sunscreen among her possessions, she thought, unless it had been confiscated, but she hated wearing it, despised the way it caked on her skin and left her feeling oily. She preferred to just keep to the shade. There was shade here, but it would likely become extremely hot in the enclosed bowels of the ship, where airflow was poor and high humidity had created a thriving ecosystem of moss and mold.
For the first time she really took in the rest of the nearby area. The rocks their boat was run up against extended inland, to a beach where she could make out a couple of indistinct shapes moving, likely people but way too far away to say for sure. There was a shattered structure off on the far side, and a pier that looked to be in much the same shape. Either this place had been abandoned for a long time, or it had borne the brunt of some catastrophe in the past.
She took out a few of the antiseptic wipes and dabbed at the blood on Arjen's face as Kelly held him. At first she wasn't very confident—she'd gotten certified in first aid long ago, mostly because it looked good on a resume, but remembered precious little of it, and besides it wasn't like there'd been a practical cleaning-blood demonstration—but before long she figured to use strokes moving to the sides of his face, folding and refolding the wipes so that she was always using a clean part. Pretty soon he looked generally presentable.
That took care of the blood that had pooled, but more was slowly dripping, it seemed like. Juliette was fortunate not to get nosebleeds often, but when she did they tended to last a long time. Perhaps it was because she hated the idea of shoving wads of tissue or cotton up her nose. She thought the image that presented so undignified, animalistic even, in this way she could not quite articulate. But Arjen presumably didn't share her hangups, and if he did he could figure it out for himself. She tore two small strips of gauze, wadded them into little plugs, and held them out to him.
"For your nostrils," she said, with a nod.
He could shove stuff up his own nose; there was only so far gloves would go.
Speaking of, her work was more or less done. She snapped Kelly's first aid kit shut again, leaving a few bloody smears along its case, and set it down, then carefully shucked the gloves, letting them turn inside out to contain their rusty adornment. She tossed them casually to the side.
"I don't know about all of you," Juliette said, smile returning to replace the look of concentration she'd worn while she worked, "but I feel much better."
-
Somersault
- Posts: 312
- Joined: Wed Aug 15, 2018 8:56 am
"Oh, no," Kelly cooed into Arjen's ear, more as a method to placate him rather than any real sympathy. "No, no, no, we've got to keep going, okay?"
He was doomed, his refusal to adapt a certain marker of death, but that was okay. She was okay, after all, she recognized that, but she was comforting him, she was holding him. Essentially, she would propel him forward, and all the cameras would see was this. This moment, her encouragement, her words to a boy teetering on the edge of existence. That was all they would know.
That was all everyone else gathered around here would know, as well. Still, Marco was standing away, a resolute monument, still Juliette was hovering, dabbing Arjen's skin as if that were enough to close up the rifts that had opened deep, deep inside of him. For now, though, Kelly continued to hold on, if just a little bit less so. Letting go was a certainty, of course, he was certainly a liability, even in the most generous of parameters, but this was fine. It was just like cuddling up to one of the dogs as a shelter, the old ones, whose bones seemed to be making themselves ever more present underneath their skin. The last vestiges of warmth they would ever know, before they too, like everything else, came to dust. They, once again, had not changed.
She would adapt. She had to.
With that, she finally let go of him, stepping backwards in order to give herself more space. With a small huff, she began to clear off her hands on her pinafore, which certainly looked unwell. It was all well, though, all things, because she'd change. Just like that.
"As do I," Kelly replied to Juliette, head tilted and small smile there, same as always. Head tilting was meant to make you look friendlier and more attractive, according to studies. Perhaps that wasn't hard-hitting science, but it was science nonetheless, and so she'd done so whenever she could, kept up hope, kept up friendliness. "But, maybe we should get a move on?"
Casual conversation still, a light suggestion. They were still watching, her family, the terrorists, and she would not them see her sink to the depths of depravity. Not like this ship, a colossal reminder of what that refusal looked like. This, this was something she knew in her heart. She would not be like this ship, she would not become yet another source of debris for this island to feast on.
The cameras were still watching, and that was why she still smiled.
He was doomed, his refusal to adapt a certain marker of death, but that was okay. She was okay, after all, she recognized that, but she was comforting him, she was holding him. Essentially, she would propel him forward, and all the cameras would see was this. This moment, her encouragement, her words to a boy teetering on the edge of existence. That was all they would know.
That was all everyone else gathered around here would know, as well. Still, Marco was standing away, a resolute monument, still Juliette was hovering, dabbing Arjen's skin as if that were enough to close up the rifts that had opened deep, deep inside of him. For now, though, Kelly continued to hold on, if just a little bit less so. Letting go was a certainty, of course, he was certainly a liability, even in the most generous of parameters, but this was fine. It was just like cuddling up to one of the dogs as a shelter, the old ones, whose bones seemed to be making themselves ever more present underneath their skin. The last vestiges of warmth they would ever know, before they too, like everything else, came to dust. They, once again, had not changed.
She would adapt. She had to.
With that, she finally let go of him, stepping backwards in order to give herself more space. With a small huff, she began to clear off her hands on her pinafore, which certainly looked unwell. It was all well, though, all things, because she'd change. Just like that.
"As do I," Kelly replied to Juliette, head tilted and small smile there, same as always. Head tilting was meant to make you look friendlier and more attractive, according to studies. Perhaps that wasn't hard-hitting science, but it was science nonetheless, and so she'd done so whenever she could, kept up hope, kept up friendliness. "But, maybe we should get a move on?"
Casual conversation still, a light suggestion. They were still watching, her family, the terrorists, and she would not them see her sink to the depths of depravity. Not like this ship, a colossal reminder of what that refusal looked like. This, this was something she knew in her heart. She would not be like this ship, she would not become yet another source of debris for this island to feast on.
The cameras were still watching, and that was why she still smiled.