[Amelia Fischer Continued From Everlasting]
Alone.
Amelia was all alone.
Alone. Tired. Angry. Afraid. Devastated.
On the brink of not knowing what she was even doing anymore.
What had she done? She left Declyn. She should have waited. She should have asked him what to do. Now she was hours away from him. Lost amongst the trees. Well, not lost really. She had her map. She had her compass. But she was walking for so long in a state of shock that she would never have been able to find her way back to the campsite if she tried. Her heart felt so sure of itself before. Go, let her resentment and anger guide her. If was the first time she ever felt so much hate in her heart. She didn’t know how to handle it at the time. She didn’t know how to cope with such darkness filling her soul.
Her prayer was a failure. She’d made a mistake. It only brought ruin and hurt.
There was no salvation.
Amelia had calmed down, but her heart ached like nothing else. She felt like a piece of her soul was missing. Dolly… How could something like this happen? It was confusing and awful and Amelia had no frame of reference as to how she was supposed to deal with all these feelings welling up inside her. Noone in her life had ever died before. Noone close to her at least. She knew people died. But the were always old or sick. Not like this. None of those people had their lives ripped away like this.
Murdered by someone they knew. By a classmate.
Even worse, Amelia had no idea who Blaise even was. The name rang no bells in her mind. No face came up, no matter how hard she thought. And even if she did know… The Arsenal felt heavy in her hand as she thought about it. Did she want revenge? Revenge on the ghost of a person she would never be able to find on her own. They could walk out in front of her right now and she’d have no way to tell. She should have stayed with Declyn. He would have told her the best path to take.
Amelia hated being alone.
Dolly was gone… Noone was going to protect her anymore. Noone to steer her in the right direction so she didn’t walk into a wall while she was in the middle of talking. Noone to yell at other kids when they started to make fun of her. Even though Amelia never cared, knowing Dolly cared made her happy. It made her feel loved. Cherished. Dolly was so important to her, and she had been hiding in the trees while she fought against her murderer. She felt ashamed. She felt angry.
She didn’t know what to feel or do.
She stopped walking and sat on a nearby rock. She was so tired. Her body felt heavy and disjointed. Her reactions were sluggish and out of sync. Everything felt wrong. She felt anxious and her eyes kept scanning her surroundings. What she would have given to be back in Chattanooga wondering about the world outside her own.
Artem was probably as devastated as she was over Dolly. If not more so. But, at least he was safe. At least he wasn’t here. She was glad for that, at least. The only ray of light in this darkness-filled nightmare.
Amelia pulled a water bottle from her bag and drank from it. She made sure to check it wasn’t one of the ones Declyn had marked. No. She was sure she left them all with him. The ones Lori had tried to drug them with. Tried and succeeded. Amelia felt violated. By Lori. By the terrorists. By Blaise, whoever they were.
She just wanted to feel safe again.
The Tower
Day 4, around noon. Private Until Fen enters.
>> Ivy Langley continued from a land far, far away
All that mattered was that she kept moving.
Ivy left the infirmary, thoughts racing, heart pounding, looked around, houses, paths, she couldn't stay here. The infirmary had been risky enough, despite being sort of out of the way and despite her being there in the dark of night and despite having someone there to protect her. The village proper, in the light of day, all alone? She would die, certainly. She'd be shot before she made it to another building. No time to think too hard about where she could go but it couldn't be here, anywhere but here, anywhere but turning around and opening the door the way she so badly wanted to, the concept of being alone already weighing her down, she could feel her breathing stutter. She had to move. She did, turned, walked around the building. Back the way she'd came.
Back across the field she'd fallen in. Dragging her feet, dragging her bags, acutely aware of the possibility of bullets crashing through from any direction, she couldn't move any faster. She might fall again with no one to catch her. She could twist an ankle, that would be as deadly as anything else, out here.
If she screamed from here, would Ace still hear her?
Would he care?
She reached the treeline and didn't turn back.
She wondered how many times she could tell herself she was used to the pain before it started to ring hollow.
Maybe she had been used to it. Maybe she just kept finding new ways to make it worse, running, falling, fucking. Carrying her own things seemed pretty basic by comparison, but she hadn't moved her bag more than a few feet under her own power since she'd woken up the first morning, and she was rapidly beginning to regret how much of her wardrobe she'd insisted on keeping at hand. She could get rid of most of it, she thought, right?, except that wouldn't do much for the weight, that was all in the water bottles and the med kit and the bleach anyway and she needed those so she was just going to have to suffer.
Not like any of the other times she'd told herself that had worked out for her. Not that any sacrifice she made seemed to matter. She learned why they called it bitter from the taste in her mouth.
She wasn't going to get far like this. At least the rain was dying down, finally. At least her dress was cute. At least she'd been happy for a little while. Small mercies had never felt smaller.
It was then, immersed in an endless sea of self-pity, that she spotted someone. On one hand she had gotten distressingly close to said person before noticing they were there, wrapped up in her thoughts and in the knife-pain slipping endlessly between her ribs as she was. On the other hand the person in question hadn't noticed her, either, and Ivy was close enough to not have time to panic before she recognized her.
"Amelia?" she called out, cautiously, half-hidden behind a tree so if the girl decided to open fire she could maybe duck into cover for a moment. She didn't imagine the flighty wisp of a girl was about to actually try to kill her, but that didn't mean she wouldn't panic. She knew she definitely had a gun, if nothing else.
She knew a few things. Not that she'd spent that much time with Amelia personally on that first day, but she hadn't needed to. She wasn't particularly hard to read.
Where had Declyn wandered off to, she wondered? He wasn't dead, unless he'd just died, and she certainly hoped that wasn't the case. Myles had gone through enough, today.
Her stomach clenched and loosened. Whatever. Too many things to hurt about. She'd pick one and cry or something later.
All that mattered was that she kept moving.
Ivy left the infirmary, thoughts racing, heart pounding, looked around, houses, paths, she couldn't stay here. The infirmary had been risky enough, despite being sort of out of the way and despite her being there in the dark of night and despite having someone there to protect her. The village proper, in the light of day, all alone? She would die, certainly. She'd be shot before she made it to another building. No time to think too hard about where she could go but it couldn't be here, anywhere but here, anywhere but turning around and opening the door the way she so badly wanted to, the concept of being alone already weighing her down, she could feel her breathing stutter. She had to move. She did, turned, walked around the building. Back the way she'd came.
Back across the field she'd fallen in. Dragging her feet, dragging her bags, acutely aware of the possibility of bullets crashing through from any direction, she couldn't move any faster. She might fall again with no one to catch her. She could twist an ankle, that would be as deadly as anything else, out here.
If she screamed from here, would Ace still hear her?
Would he care?
She reached the treeline and didn't turn back.
She wondered how many times she could tell herself she was used to the pain before it started to ring hollow.
Maybe she had been used to it. Maybe she just kept finding new ways to make it worse, running, falling, fucking. Carrying her own things seemed pretty basic by comparison, but she hadn't moved her bag more than a few feet under her own power since she'd woken up the first morning, and she was rapidly beginning to regret how much of her wardrobe she'd insisted on keeping at hand. She could get rid of most of it, she thought, right?, except that wouldn't do much for the weight, that was all in the water bottles and the med kit and the bleach anyway and she needed those so she was just going to have to suffer.
Not like any of the other times she'd told herself that had worked out for her. Not that any sacrifice she made seemed to matter. She learned why they called it bitter from the taste in her mouth.
She wasn't going to get far like this. At least the rain was dying down, finally. At least her dress was cute. At least she'd been happy for a little while. Small mercies had never felt smaller.
It was then, immersed in an endless sea of self-pity, that she spotted someone. On one hand she had gotten distressingly close to said person before noticing they were there, wrapped up in her thoughts and in the knife-pain slipping endlessly between her ribs as she was. On the other hand the person in question hadn't noticed her, either, and Ivy was close enough to not have time to panic before she recognized her.
"Amelia?" she called out, cautiously, half-hidden behind a tree so if the girl decided to open fire she could maybe duck into cover for a moment. She didn't imagine the flighty wisp of a girl was about to actually try to kill her, but that didn't mean she wouldn't panic. She knew she definitely had a gun, if nothing else.
She knew a few things. Not that she'd spent that much time with Amelia personally on that first day, but she hadn't needed to. She wasn't particularly hard to read.
Where had Declyn wandered off to, she wondered? He wasn't dead, unless he'd just died, and she certainly hoped that wasn't the case. Myles had gone through enough, today.
Her stomach clenched and loosened. Whatever. Too many things to hurt about. She'd pick one and cry or something later.
"Well, Fenris, the King of Gossip. We meet again."
Amelia sat in silence. She sat and stared at the trees in front of her. Staring and hoping. Hoping someone would come bursting out of the treeline and save her. Take her home. Take her away from all this sadness and horror. Make her feel like herself again. So she could stare up at the stars and wish for simpler things again. Not wish Dolly was still alive. Not wish that she could see her grandparents one last time. Not wish she had the courage to end it all herself. Simple wishes, like going to the moon. Like meeting an alien life-form. Simple, silly wishes that she would make day in and out.
Those were the best wishes, because they never had to come true to feel like they mattered.
Reality was much crueler than she ever thought possible. Prayers and spirits could do nothing to stop it. Because people were cruel. People were evil. And there was no spell or chant or whisper to gods that would change that. Amelia felt broken, possibly irreparably. Her faith was shaken. Her mind was doubting itself. Amelia was alone in a place where being alone could mean certain death. She shouldn’t have run off. Declyn was probably worried. She was the worst friend. She began to sniffle as prickly tears clouded her eyes. Her hands shook as she took another sip from the bottle.
Suddenly, a voice. It knew her name. She spun her head in it’s direction, and a flash of pink held her gaze.
“M-miss Ivy…?” She asked, wiping away the salty tears with the back of her hand. She stood up and moved closer to the girl she hadn’t seen since the first night on the island.
“It is you!” She cried out happily as she saw more of the other girl. Her eyes welled up again and she did her best to wipe away the flood of tears that began to spill from her eyes as she spoke.
“I-I’m so happy you’re okay!” Another sniffle. “E-everyone is dying… Dolly is… she’s... “ A whimper followed as she lost her ability to speak for a moment, and just let herself sob openly for a bit, still trying to wipe the tears away.
Those were the best wishes, because they never had to come true to feel like they mattered.
Reality was much crueler than she ever thought possible. Prayers and spirits could do nothing to stop it. Because people were cruel. People were evil. And there was no spell or chant or whisper to gods that would change that. Amelia felt broken, possibly irreparably. Her faith was shaken. Her mind was doubting itself. Amelia was alone in a place where being alone could mean certain death. She shouldn’t have run off. Declyn was probably worried. She was the worst friend. She began to sniffle as prickly tears clouded her eyes. Her hands shook as she took another sip from the bottle.
Suddenly, a voice. It knew her name. She spun her head in it’s direction, and a flash of pink held her gaze.
“M-miss Ivy…?” She asked, wiping away the salty tears with the back of her hand. She stood up and moved closer to the girl she hadn’t seen since the first night on the island.
“It is you!” She cried out happily as she saw more of the other girl. Her eyes welled up again and she did her best to wipe away the flood of tears that began to spill from her eyes as she spoke.
“I-I’m so happy you’re okay!” Another sniffle. “E-everyone is dying… Dolly is… she’s... “ A whimper followed as she lost her ability to speak for a moment, and just let herself sob openly for a bit, still trying to wipe the tears away.
“You and me both, Amelia. You are okay, right Miss Ivy?”
((Continued from Tempest of Seasons))
Stepping out from the trees, the newcomer still seemed to loom over the others in spite of his crooked posture. An uneven map of cuts and bruises was plotted across his skin, which had taken on a sickly pallor. Bloodshot eyes cast a hateful gaze between the others, the darkness in them seemingly deeper than the dark circles underneath. With one hand crossed over his body, he seemed to wince slightly every time he had to use his left side. Droplets of blood stained his tanktop, which was now more of an off-brown with dirt and still wet from the rain, and was pockmarked with tears from branches and his own hands.
Yet in spite of everything, he pressed on. The worms wouldn’t have their fill today, not if it was up to him. Whether it was some kind of wretched indignance at what had happened, or just a stubborn refusal to let someone else win, Tyrell hadn’t spent a whole lot of time thinking about it. Trying to interrogate his own flaws and motivations hadn’t gotten him anywhere. If anything, the only thing he’d accomplished in trying to be someone else was nearly killing the person he was.
Even if everyone else let him down, instinct wouldn’t. If everyone else was set on betraying him, he could at least be true to himself. After all of it, he couldn’t claim that he hadn’t earned a reprieve; for the first time since waking up here, he was starting to think that didn’t have to come in the form of some sordid end.
Standing alone put things into perspective. He’d earned what the others did to him, through his actions. That debt was paid as much it could be while he still drew breath. Now he sought out the only thing that made sense - a chance. As far as he was concerned, he deserved it just as much as the betrayal, and the beating.
That didn’t necessarily mean flying off the handle and carving a messy warpath through his peers, though. His ticket had already been punched, twice. All he had to do was wait, maybe fuck with a few of the people who were really languishing here. Giving the gun to Claude was clearly paying dividends, if the announcement was any indication. Lorenzo had been set on a similar path, and while he didn’t want to take too much credit for the guy giving up the pretension of not being a vicious cunt, he’d helped.
Supposedly laughter was good for recovery, fractured rib notwithstanding. There was a ragged gash in his soul, where he’d sawn through and amputated part of himself, and it needed time to heal just as much as every other injury he’d sustained. Ty now couldn’t help but look forward to the next little radio broadcast Danya had for them; it no doubt would raise his spirits. There were plenty of names to look forward to, more than he’d started with. If he was being honest with himself, it wasn’t hard to see the humor in knowing certain people were just losing it. With the direction Erika had taken, anything was possible.
Oh, he’d look forward to hearing that one too. Playing this game for her was death by a thousand cuts, or by however many she ended up killing. It was no less than what she deserved.
By comparison, siccing some meathead goons on him seemed pretty tame. Of all the people on the island, he was perhaps most curious how Ivy had been taking all of this. Someone so codependent and tangibly useless in the outside world no doubt had a unique set of challenges somewhere so surreal and violent. Surely she had an interesting story to tell!
Ty glanced at Amelia, someone he’d comparatively thought little of. She was one of those people who put too much faith in the immaterial. More or less the polar opposite of Ivy’s garbage personality. The gun might’ve been a sign she was starting to wise up, but her demeanor quickly put that theory to bed.
He took a few unsteady steps to the two of them, and stopped a short distance away. His voice broke through the awkward silence, as sing-song as it was ragged.
“Soooooo - how’re you guys? Having fun yet? My rib's fractured - maybe broken! Best field trip ever. Hope the teachers are proud of themselves.”
((Continued from Tempest of Seasons))
Stepping out from the trees, the newcomer still seemed to loom over the others in spite of his crooked posture. An uneven map of cuts and bruises was plotted across his skin, which had taken on a sickly pallor. Bloodshot eyes cast a hateful gaze between the others, the darkness in them seemingly deeper than the dark circles underneath. With one hand crossed over his body, he seemed to wince slightly every time he had to use his left side. Droplets of blood stained his tanktop, which was now more of an off-brown with dirt and still wet from the rain, and was pockmarked with tears from branches and his own hands.
Yet in spite of everything, he pressed on. The worms wouldn’t have their fill today, not if it was up to him. Whether it was some kind of wretched indignance at what had happened, or just a stubborn refusal to let someone else win, Tyrell hadn’t spent a whole lot of time thinking about it. Trying to interrogate his own flaws and motivations hadn’t gotten him anywhere. If anything, the only thing he’d accomplished in trying to be someone else was nearly killing the person he was.
Even if everyone else let him down, instinct wouldn’t. If everyone else was set on betraying him, he could at least be true to himself. After all of it, he couldn’t claim that he hadn’t earned a reprieve; for the first time since waking up here, he was starting to think that didn’t have to come in the form of some sordid end.
Standing alone put things into perspective. He’d earned what the others did to him, through his actions. That debt was paid as much it could be while he still drew breath. Now he sought out the only thing that made sense - a chance. As far as he was concerned, he deserved it just as much as the betrayal, and the beating.
That didn’t necessarily mean flying off the handle and carving a messy warpath through his peers, though. His ticket had already been punched, twice. All he had to do was wait, maybe fuck with a few of the people who were really languishing here. Giving the gun to Claude was clearly paying dividends, if the announcement was any indication. Lorenzo had been set on a similar path, and while he didn’t want to take too much credit for the guy giving up the pretension of not being a vicious cunt, he’d helped.
Supposedly laughter was good for recovery, fractured rib notwithstanding. There was a ragged gash in his soul, where he’d sawn through and amputated part of himself, and it needed time to heal just as much as every other injury he’d sustained. Ty now couldn’t help but look forward to the next little radio broadcast Danya had for them; it no doubt would raise his spirits. There were plenty of names to look forward to, more than he’d started with. If he was being honest with himself, it wasn’t hard to see the humor in knowing certain people were just losing it. With the direction Erika had taken, anything was possible.
Oh, he’d look forward to hearing that one too. Playing this game for her was death by a thousand cuts, or by however many she ended up killing. It was no less than what she deserved.
By comparison, siccing some meathead goons on him seemed pretty tame. Of all the people on the island, he was perhaps most curious how Ivy had been taking all of this. Someone so codependent and tangibly useless in the outside world no doubt had a unique set of challenges somewhere so surreal and violent. Surely she had an interesting story to tell!
Ty glanced at Amelia, someone he’d comparatively thought little of. She was one of those people who put too much faith in the immaterial. More or less the polar opposite of Ivy’s garbage personality. The gun might’ve been a sign she was starting to wise up, but her demeanor quickly put that theory to bed.
He took a few unsteady steps to the two of them, and stopped a short distance away. His voice broke through the awkward silence, as sing-song as it was ragged.
“Soooooo - how’re you guys? Having fun yet? My rib's fractured - maybe broken! Best field trip ever. Hope the teachers are proud of themselves.”
Miss Ivy, aw, how precious. If she were to pick a trait that had stood out about Amelia from the moment they'd met it was that persistent, needling naivety. Ivy would have imagined the island would have burned that out of her by now, and judging by her tears and the wavering in her voice that hadn't not happened. She wasn't the ideal person to have run into, not in the mood she was in, not when what she needed most was someone who would carry her bags. But she was better than nothing, and certainly better than most of her other potential random encounters.
Speak of the devil, and the devil manifests.
She felt his voice before she actively recognized it, goosebumps climbing up her spine, she cleared the small distance remaining between her and Amelia quickly. Not that Amelia was much in the way of physical protection, she was a twig at best, but she was a twig with a gun, which meant a lot more that muscles given their circumstances. Her eyes caught him for a moment and then flitted around him anxiously, looking for something else, as though what she had to be afraid of about Tyrell Lahti were allies.
Maybe she just didn't want to look at him. In fairness she didn't imagine anyone would, at this given moment in time. She had thought she looked a mess, though she supposed her standards for herself were just set unreasonably high. All things considered, black eye set aside, she looked fine. Tyrell looked like death warmed over, though not as literally as she'd like, he was very much alive and very much looking at her with eyes burning in a way she'd caught once in the hallways of George Hunter a couple of weeks past that little "accident" with the Carters.
At the time she'd swallowed but looked away and tossed her hair behind her. What could he do? He had no power over her.
He had had no power over her.
Ace felt a million miles away.
It was fine. Amelia had a gun. Tyrell wasn't carrying one. He had killed people on the first day, she remembered. She hadn't been surprised. It had been three days of silence since; she wondered why, but she certainly didn't wonder enough to ask questions. The only thing she wanted from him was to go away and die somewhere where she'd never have to see him again.
She could afford to be brave. Amelia had a gun. He couldn't hurt her unless he was stupid or suicidal but maybe he was, he certainly looked like he had lost whatever rusty screws were holding his mind together before now, maybe the gun didn't matter to him, maybe he wanted her dead more than he wanted to not be shot, or maybe he could just clear the distance between them and toss Amelia to the ground before he could get a shot off. Maybe.
Not too brave, then, not that she could pull that off when she was as afraid as she'd ever been. God, she missed Ace. She hated how much she missed Ace. She hated how her only strength was borrowed. All she wanted in the world was her own.
She couldn't look straight at him.
Worse things had happened to him than the Carters, that was obvious. He'd broken a rib, too, that was kind of funny, the only thing the two of them would ever have in common. As though he could be allowed to know how weak she was.
"I have nothing to say to you," she managed without stuttering, but her voice was too high and too weak from the exertion of dragging herself this far. She couldn't even drop her things with the knowledge she might have to run at any moment. Her rib throbbed in her chest. She thought she could hear it if she listened closely.
She wondered if he could, too.
Speak of the devil, and the devil manifests.
She felt his voice before she actively recognized it, goosebumps climbing up her spine, she cleared the small distance remaining between her and Amelia quickly. Not that Amelia was much in the way of physical protection, she was a twig at best, but she was a twig with a gun, which meant a lot more that muscles given their circumstances. Her eyes caught him for a moment and then flitted around him anxiously, looking for something else, as though what she had to be afraid of about Tyrell Lahti were allies.
Maybe she just didn't want to look at him. In fairness she didn't imagine anyone would, at this given moment in time. She had thought she looked a mess, though she supposed her standards for herself were just set unreasonably high. All things considered, black eye set aside, she looked fine. Tyrell looked like death warmed over, though not as literally as she'd like, he was very much alive and very much looking at her with eyes burning in a way she'd caught once in the hallways of George Hunter a couple of weeks past that little "accident" with the Carters.
At the time she'd swallowed but looked away and tossed her hair behind her. What could he do? He had no power over her.
He had had no power over her.
Ace felt a million miles away.
It was fine. Amelia had a gun. Tyrell wasn't carrying one. He had killed people on the first day, she remembered. She hadn't been surprised. It had been three days of silence since; she wondered why, but she certainly didn't wonder enough to ask questions. The only thing she wanted from him was to go away and die somewhere where she'd never have to see him again.
She could afford to be brave. Amelia had a gun. He couldn't hurt her unless he was stupid or suicidal but maybe he was, he certainly looked like he had lost whatever rusty screws were holding his mind together before now, maybe the gun didn't matter to him, maybe he wanted her dead more than he wanted to not be shot, or maybe he could just clear the distance between them and toss Amelia to the ground before he could get a shot off. Maybe.
Not too brave, then, not that she could pull that off when she was as afraid as she'd ever been. God, she missed Ace. She hated how much she missed Ace. She hated how her only strength was borrowed. All she wanted in the world was her own.
She couldn't look straight at him.
Worse things had happened to him than the Carters, that was obvious. He'd broken a rib, too, that was kind of funny, the only thing the two of them would ever have in common. As though he could be allowed to know how weak she was.
"I have nothing to say to you," she managed without stuttering, but her voice was too high and too weak from the exertion of dragging herself this far. She couldn't even drop her things with the knowledge she might have to run at any moment. Her rib throbbed in her chest. She thought she could hear it if she listened closely.
She wondered if he could, too.
"Well, Fenris, the King of Gossip. We meet again."
A voice from behind her made the hair on the back of her neck stand up, and Amelia spun around and backed up a few paces right away, her hands no longer wiping her eyes and instead pulling the gun from her side and holding it in front of her, not pointed at anyone yet. Amelia got a good look at the person. He was tall. Very tall. He made Amelia crane her neck way up to look at his face. Compared to him, she and Ivy were like small children. She recognized him, but he looked different from how she remembered.
He was Erika’s boyfriend, though she didn’t recall his name. Last time she’d seen him was in happy times. Prom, everyone looking so nice and fancy. He was in one of the pictures she took. Not that anyone would see it. Her camera disappeared when she woke up here. But she remembered. She remembered feeling so happy and free and how everyone felt so warm and inviting. Not now. Now he looked the opposite. His eyes were cold and menacing. He was injured, bruised up and cut up with blood all over his shirt.
He scared her.
Her heart was beating so fast and she was still crying. Ivy was next to her all of a sudden. Amelia looked at her for a second, before returning her tear-blurred vision to the frightening boy. The pink-haired girl looked scared too. That made her feel even more frightened. Amelia grabbed for Ivy’s hand with her free hand and squeezed it tight. They were okay. They were together so they were okay. Amelia had a weapon. She swallowed the lump in her throat. Maybe he’d just leave and everything would be fine.
He spoke again, his tone of voice made her insides twist and turn. He sounded different from how she remembered. He sounded scarier than she remembered. It made a chill rush down her spine, and instinctively she raised the gun up so it was pointed at him. Ivy didn’t want to talk to him. That was enough for Amelia to agree. Ivy was good. Good to her since they woke up. She didn’t know him. She didn’t like how he was making her feel.
He needed to go away.
“You heard her.” She said, her voice small and shaky.
“W-we don’t feel like talking. Go talk to someone else.” Her arm trembled as it held up the Arsenal, it’s duel-barrels pointed in Erika’s boyfriend's direction.
Ivy was still hurt. The boy was hurt, too. Amelia wasn’t hurt. She had to be strong. She had to be the Dolly. She had to get him to leave them alone. His eyes scared her… his aura was heavy and threatening and terrifying. Amelia’s bloodshot eyes were screaming with fear, but she couldn’t back down.
“Okay? So just go!” She shouted, thrusting the gun towards him as a warning.
He was Erika’s boyfriend, though she didn’t recall his name. Last time she’d seen him was in happy times. Prom, everyone looking so nice and fancy. He was in one of the pictures she took. Not that anyone would see it. Her camera disappeared when she woke up here. But she remembered. She remembered feeling so happy and free and how everyone felt so warm and inviting. Not now. Now he looked the opposite. His eyes were cold and menacing. He was injured, bruised up and cut up with blood all over his shirt.
He scared her.
Her heart was beating so fast and she was still crying. Ivy was next to her all of a sudden. Amelia looked at her for a second, before returning her tear-blurred vision to the frightening boy. The pink-haired girl looked scared too. That made her feel even more frightened. Amelia grabbed for Ivy’s hand with her free hand and squeezed it tight. They were okay. They were together so they were okay. Amelia had a weapon. She swallowed the lump in her throat. Maybe he’d just leave and everything would be fine.
He spoke again, his tone of voice made her insides twist and turn. He sounded different from how she remembered. He sounded scarier than she remembered. It made a chill rush down her spine, and instinctively she raised the gun up so it was pointed at him. Ivy didn’t want to talk to him. That was enough for Amelia to agree. Ivy was good. Good to her since they woke up. She didn’t know him. She didn’t like how he was making her feel.
He needed to go away.
“You heard her.” She said, her voice small and shaky.
“W-we don’t feel like talking. Go talk to someone else.” Her arm trembled as it held up the Arsenal, it’s duel-barrels pointed in Erika’s boyfriend's direction.
Ivy was still hurt. The boy was hurt, too. Amelia wasn’t hurt. She had to be strong. She had to be the Dolly. She had to get him to leave them alone. His eyes scared her… his aura was heavy and threatening and terrifying. Amelia’s bloodshot eyes were screaming with fear, but she couldn’t back down.
“Okay? So just go!” She shouted, thrusting the gun towards him as a warning.
Tyrell cocked an eyebrow at the pair of barrels pointing at him, as if it was more of a curiosity than a threat. That really was the case; a threat implied he had something he cared about enough to not want to lose. At this point his life didn’t really account for all that much, past whatever experiences he’d have on the island going forward. Amelia didn’t seem the type to pull the trigger, but neither had Claude at first.
He replied in a disinterested monotone, turning at first to Amelia and then back to Ivy. “I heard her. I don’t feel like going anywhere though, so go ahead and shoot if that’s what you feel. Heh. Two guns in one though, that’s really something.”
Ivy certainly looked worse for wear, the bruise on her face indicating she’d at least gotten into a scrap once already on the island. No doubt whoever it was had walked away. Looking past her, Ty noticed something odd about Ivy. Not her appearance in particular, but her presence. It was missing… something.
People.
Amelia had just ran into Ivy. Ivy had survived for several days. Either she’d had quite an about-face and managed to look after herself, or she’d had someone to protect her. The bruise might’ve either been from that person, or it was the thing that drove her into someone’s arms. Myles would’ve been the first person he thought of, but they wouldn’t have parted unless one of them was dead or dying, and his name hadn’t come up on the announcements. Whoever it was, they weren’t there for her anymore.
Nothing to say. It was bullshit, obviously, but Ivy didn’t like getting her dainty little hands dirty. If a person like her had something to say to someone, they wouldn’t say it. They’d deliver a message. It would’ve been a little bit worthy of respect if any of the actions taken were by her own hand. As things stood, she just managed to be the walking embodiment of everything everyone hated about rich people.
Ty found it funny how everything that mattered about her now just didn’t. He didn’t laugh.
“You can never do anything yourself, can you? Back in the world you send the Carters to jump me because you couldn’t stand up for yourself. Now you’re jumping into her arms, because you still can’t stand up and defend yourself - in a place where it like, actually matters. How the fuck did you make it this far? Who carried you?”
Incredulous, he turned back to Amelia, still wondering if she’d made up her mind and still wondering if two bullets at the same time killed any faster than just one.
“Christ, if you’re gonna shoot me, do it for yourself and not for her. I can’t think of anyone who deserves to be saved less than she does.”
He replied in a disinterested monotone, turning at first to Amelia and then back to Ivy. “I heard her. I don’t feel like going anywhere though, so go ahead and shoot if that’s what you feel. Heh. Two guns in one though, that’s really something.”
Ivy certainly looked worse for wear, the bruise on her face indicating she’d at least gotten into a scrap once already on the island. No doubt whoever it was had walked away. Looking past her, Ty noticed something odd about Ivy. Not her appearance in particular, but her presence. It was missing… something.
People.
Amelia had just ran into Ivy. Ivy had survived for several days. Either she’d had quite an about-face and managed to look after herself, or she’d had someone to protect her. The bruise might’ve either been from that person, or it was the thing that drove her into someone’s arms. Myles would’ve been the first person he thought of, but they wouldn’t have parted unless one of them was dead or dying, and his name hadn’t come up on the announcements. Whoever it was, they weren’t there for her anymore.
Nothing to say. It was bullshit, obviously, but Ivy didn’t like getting her dainty little hands dirty. If a person like her had something to say to someone, they wouldn’t say it. They’d deliver a message. It would’ve been a little bit worthy of respect if any of the actions taken were by her own hand. As things stood, she just managed to be the walking embodiment of everything everyone hated about rich people.
Ty found it funny how everything that mattered about her now just didn’t. He didn’t laugh.
“You can never do anything yourself, can you? Back in the world you send the Carters to jump me because you couldn’t stand up for yourself. Now you’re jumping into her arms, because you still can’t stand up and defend yourself - in a place where it like, actually matters. How the fuck did you make it this far? Who carried you?”
Incredulous, he turned back to Amelia, still wondering if she’d made up her mind and still wondering if two bullets at the same time killed any faster than just one.
“Christ, if you’re gonna shoot me, do it for yourself and not for her. I can’t think of anyone who deserves to be saved less than she does.”
((Christina Rennes continued from Binary Suns))
The events following the skinny dipping that was not to be mentioned had been the good kind of boring. Announcements came and went, Quinn and Blaise were still killing, Teresa had turned on Reuben for some reason, the Menagerie was back in play, and the cliffs were off limits. So, nothing really.
Daria had been bearable. Of course, she got a pass so long as she didn't go "I HOPE JESSICA DIES PAINFULLY," so she was still cool as they walked around the wilderness, not actively looking for or avoiding others and ...
Oh, shit.
Christina recognized two of the people ahead of her as she stuck her hand out. One of them was Ivy (pink hair), but that was okay, since Christina hadn't heard anything of her in the past week. On the other hand, Tyrell had been on the announcements as a double killer. Even if he'd cooled off, she didn't want to approach him.
The events following the skinny dipping that was not to be mentioned had been the good kind of boring. Announcements came and went, Quinn and Blaise were still killing, Teresa had turned on Reuben for some reason, the Menagerie was back in play, and the cliffs were off limits. So, nothing really.
Daria had been bearable. Of course, she got a pass so long as she didn't go "I HOPE JESSICA DIES PAINFULLY," so she was still cool as they walked around the wilderness, not actively looking for or avoiding others and ...
Oh, shit.
Christina recognized two of the people ahead of her as she stuck her hand out. One of them was Ivy (pink hair), but that was okay, since Christina hadn't heard anything of her in the past week. On the other hand, Tyrell had been on the announcements as a double killer. Even if he'd cooled off, she didn't want to approach him.
Survivor: UCONN - Seriously, it's awesome!
Version 8
Kaede Tsurumi: "Eeep! I-I'm so sorry! I-I'll try not to get in your w-way next time!"
Morgan Whitney
Tyler Slomkowski
Victor Grail: "I didn't give you the lead so that you could lose it! I guess it's up to me to carry us after all."
Version 8
Kaede Tsurumi: "Eeep! I-I'm so sorry! I-I'll try not to get in your w-way next time!"
Morgan Whitney
Tyler Slomkowski
Victor Grail: "I didn't give you the lead so that you could lose it! I guess it's up to me to carry us after all."
(Daria Bhatia continued from Binary Suns)
Naked in the sea, electric with freedom, electric with danger. Euphoric. She felt like herself again.
But like all euphoric moments, it passed. When she emerged from the sea, her skin was cold, and pulling damp clothes on did nothing to dispel the cold, or uncomfortable wedgies, or renewed chafing, or the itching of sand. But in spite of all these little discomforts, she wasn't alone.
Christine had joined her. Christine had spoken. Daria had spoken. And they had left the beach together, damp with rainwater and seawater, and Daria no longer felt alone. She had her purpose now. Break the game. No killings for 24 hours. They probably weren't bluffing, but Daria didn't care. Bluff or no, they were making them kill each other, for the promise of a false prize. Daria was going to drag their hypocrisy into the sunlight, and make them play.
Daria didn't know if she'd convinced Christine, but she felt like she didn't have to. Christine plunged into the water with her. Daria didn't know what that meant, but she felt like it mattered. Just like Carrie had mattered. Just like they all...
Shouting in the distance. Christine throughout a stopping hand. Daria stopped obediently, barely paying attention-
“Christ, if you’re gonna shoot me, do it for yourself and not for her. I can’t think of anyone who deserves to be saved less than she does.”
Daria looked up. A stand-off just ahead, guns pointed at a man. At Tyrell. Something about the name tickled her consciousness, but she brushed it aside, just like she brushed past Christine as she strode towards the others. "How 'bout no shooting?" Daria called, in a voice at once brash and exhausted, careless with worldweariness (no hint of fear I won't be afraid again). "'Cause it seems to me we got enough crazy fuckers shooting each other for the shitheels running this game."
Naked in the sea, electric with freedom, electric with danger. Euphoric. She felt like herself again.
But like all euphoric moments, it passed. When she emerged from the sea, her skin was cold, and pulling damp clothes on did nothing to dispel the cold, or uncomfortable wedgies, or renewed chafing, or the itching of sand. But in spite of all these little discomforts, she wasn't alone.
Christine had joined her. Christine had spoken. Daria had spoken. And they had left the beach together, damp with rainwater and seawater, and Daria no longer felt alone. She had her purpose now. Break the game. No killings for 24 hours. They probably weren't bluffing, but Daria didn't care. Bluff or no, they were making them kill each other, for the promise of a false prize. Daria was going to drag their hypocrisy into the sunlight, and make them play.
Daria didn't know if she'd convinced Christine, but she felt like she didn't have to. Christine plunged into the water with her. Daria didn't know what that meant, but she felt like it mattered. Just like Carrie had mattered. Just like they all...
Shouting in the distance. Christine throughout a stopping hand. Daria stopped obediently, barely paying attention-
“Christ, if you’re gonna shoot me, do it for yourself and not for her. I can’t think of anyone who deserves to be saved less than she does.”
Daria looked up. A stand-off just ahead, guns pointed at a man. At Tyrell. Something about the name tickled her consciousness, but she brushed it aside, just like she brushed past Christine as she strode towards the others. "How 'bout no shooting?" Daria called, in a voice at once brash and exhausted, careless with worldweariness (no hint of fear I won't be afraid again). "'Cause it seems to me we got enough crazy fuckers shooting each other for the shitheels running this game."
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.”
"You don't know anything about me,"
she spat through gritted teeth, and she meant it. Tyrell knew the same shadow of Ivy Langley the majority of their class thought they knew, and that was how she preferred it, and any traits he ascribed to that shadow were weightless nonsense. There were, at the very most, maybe five people who knew more than that shadow, and outside of them whose opinion mattered? Why would she bother to listen to someone who didn't know her and who had every reason to want to hurt her, besides? She supposed it was hypocritical to criticize the tactic with the amount of times she'd used it herself, but the situations weren't exactly equivalent.
He didn't know anything about her. It didn't matter.
Why did it still sting?
He had gotten in under her guard in another life, left a crack in her armor he could still slip a knife through, how dare he, but there was nothing she could do about it, and she'd stood here this whole time quietly begging Ace to reappear and save her, and did it matter if he was insulting a shadow if that shadow and her had enough things in common?
He looked broken. He looked like shit. If things hadn't gone like that had back at school, she wasn't sure she'd even be afraid of him anymore, but. But. But what did she have to gain by believing that? What could she possibly get from Tyrell other than more berating at best? He hated her. Or maybe he didn't anymore, but anything less than love, or devotion, or the sort of naivety Amelia had always emanated, was intolerable. At least until she had some means of defending herself. He could call her a coward in not-so-many words if he wanted.
She took a step back, Amelia placed between them, and he was right about that, too, and she didn't care. Pride moved her lips but refused to stop her feet.
Another voice.
An opportunity, then.
Ivy made a series of judgments very quickly. For one, with an introductory statement like that she didn't imagine the newcomer (she was always so good with names but couldn't place this one, something with a D?) was particularly trigger-happy. For another, Amelia was still in between them. For a third, she noticed her hands were shaking. Her whole body was shaking, actually, a slight sheen of sweat forming on her forehead. Adrenaline. That was good. It wouldn't hurt so much, not right away.
She'd learned a thing or two about pain.
The moment she saw the newcomers draw Tyrell's attention she slid as quickly as she could into the trees, running with all the force she could muster. His injuries would keep him from giving chase, or else he'd not find the effort worth it, or else Amelia would intervene. She hoped.
She felt a pang of regret, leaving Amelia behind.
Her gun would have been terribly useful.
>> Ivy Langley continued in Aggressive Beauty
she spat through gritted teeth, and she meant it. Tyrell knew the same shadow of Ivy Langley the majority of their class thought they knew, and that was how she preferred it, and any traits he ascribed to that shadow were weightless nonsense. There were, at the very most, maybe five people who knew more than that shadow, and outside of them whose opinion mattered? Why would she bother to listen to someone who didn't know her and who had every reason to want to hurt her, besides? She supposed it was hypocritical to criticize the tactic with the amount of times she'd used it herself, but the situations weren't exactly equivalent.
He didn't know anything about her. It didn't matter.
Why did it still sting?
He had gotten in under her guard in another life, left a crack in her armor he could still slip a knife through, how dare he, but there was nothing she could do about it, and she'd stood here this whole time quietly begging Ace to reappear and save her, and did it matter if he was insulting a shadow if that shadow and her had enough things in common?
He looked broken. He looked like shit. If things hadn't gone like that had back at school, she wasn't sure she'd even be afraid of him anymore, but. But. But what did she have to gain by believing that? What could she possibly get from Tyrell other than more berating at best? He hated her. Or maybe he didn't anymore, but anything less than love, or devotion, or the sort of naivety Amelia had always emanated, was intolerable. At least until she had some means of defending herself. He could call her a coward in not-so-many words if he wanted.
She took a step back, Amelia placed between them, and he was right about that, too, and she didn't care. Pride moved her lips but refused to stop her feet.
Another voice.
An opportunity, then.
Ivy made a series of judgments very quickly. For one, with an introductory statement like that she didn't imagine the newcomer (she was always so good with names but couldn't place this one, something with a D?) was particularly trigger-happy. For another, Amelia was still in between them. For a third, she noticed her hands were shaking. Her whole body was shaking, actually, a slight sheen of sweat forming on her forehead. Adrenaline. That was good. It wouldn't hurt so much, not right away.
She'd learned a thing or two about pain.
The moment she saw the newcomers draw Tyrell's attention she slid as quickly as she could into the trees, running with all the force she could muster. His injuries would keep him from giving chase, or else he'd not find the effort worth it, or else Amelia would intervene. She hoped.
She felt a pang of regret, leaving Amelia behind.
Her gun would have been terribly useful.
>> Ivy Langley continued in Aggressive Beauty
"Well, Fenris, the King of Gossip. We meet again."
Amelia was confused. What was she supposed to do? He was scaring her. He was yelling and Ivy was yelling back. Her arm was shaking so badly, she wasn’t sure she’d hit him even if she did decide to pull the triggers. But did she want to? It had only happened once so far. And that time was an accident. She wasn’t okay then, her mind was all cloudy and confused. And no one got hurt then! Somehow she felt like whether she pulled the trigger this time or not someone would get hurt anyway. Amelia wasn’t good at making decisions. Dolly made them for her. Her grandparents made them for her. Her whole time on the island she let Declyn make them for her! And the first decision she made on her own was a disaster! She lost Declyn and now she was here with her gun aimed at a scary boy with no idea what to do next.
Ivy moved back from beside her, but Amelia refused to take her eyes off the boy in front of her. He was so big. It felt like he could take two steps and be in front of her in an instant. What should she do? He hadn’t tried to attack, but what if he did? What if he ran at her? Could she pull the trigger? Would that make her bad? Would that make her grandparents sad? But if he did want to hurt them, she’d be letting Ivy get hurt too. She had a gun, shouldn’t she protect her friend? If it was Dolly, would she have been able to save her from Blaise if she’d been there? Would she have pulled the trigger then?
She was so tired. Thinking hurt her head. Her eyes felt so heavy. Like she’d drank a whole big cup of her grandma’s sleepytime tea. Her throat felt dry. Her arm was getting heavier the longer she held it up. She had to add her other hand to keep the gun pointed straight, and even then her arms were still shaking. Her heart was beating so fast she could hear it in her head. So fast she could feel it pumping behind her eyeballs. She was sweating so bad, even with the rain still coming down on her a little.
Amelia just wanted to go home.
She just wanted the boy to go away.
She just wanted to look at the stars.
Another voice! It cut through the tension like a hot knife through butter, and Amelia snapped her head to look at the new arrival. A girl. Amelia didn’t know her. She was telling them not to shoot. Amelia wasn’t shooting! She hadn’t decided yet! She just wanted him to leave her alone! She just wanted Miss Ivy to be safe. He was scary, didn’t this other girl see?! He was injured a bunch and he talked weird and he made the air feel heavy around her. Amelia didn’t shoot anybody! She was a good girl! Right, Miss Ivy-
…
Miss Ivy?
Ivy was gone. Amelia turned around and Ivy had vanished into thin air. As if she was never there to begin with. Was she not? Amelia felt her breathing pick up speed. Had Ivy actually not been there this whole time? Then who was the boy yelling at? Did that mean he was yelling at her? Saying mean things to her? No… nononononononononono…. That didn’t make sense. She didn’t do anything! She was a good girl! GOOD! Amelia faltered, the gun dropping to her side as she looked back at the boy and the other girl, who was a lot closer now. She backed up a few steps, but tripped and fell on her butt. She started to push herself back from the two, dragging herself along the ground, trying to put as much space between them and her as possible.
“I didn’t do anything!” She cried, tears once again blurring her vision as she tried to escape.
“I’m a good girl! A good girl!” She yelled through the tears, picking her gun up and pointing it in their general direction while still dragging herself backwards along the ground.
Ivy moved back from beside her, but Amelia refused to take her eyes off the boy in front of her. He was so big. It felt like he could take two steps and be in front of her in an instant. What should she do? He hadn’t tried to attack, but what if he did? What if he ran at her? Could she pull the trigger? Would that make her bad? Would that make her grandparents sad? But if he did want to hurt them, she’d be letting Ivy get hurt too. She had a gun, shouldn’t she protect her friend? If it was Dolly, would she have been able to save her from Blaise if she’d been there? Would she have pulled the trigger then?
She was so tired. Thinking hurt her head. Her eyes felt so heavy. Like she’d drank a whole big cup of her grandma’s sleepytime tea. Her throat felt dry. Her arm was getting heavier the longer she held it up. She had to add her other hand to keep the gun pointed straight, and even then her arms were still shaking. Her heart was beating so fast she could hear it in her head. So fast she could feel it pumping behind her eyeballs. She was sweating so bad, even with the rain still coming down on her a little.
Amelia just wanted to go home.
She just wanted the boy to go away.
She just wanted to look at the stars.
Another voice! It cut through the tension like a hot knife through butter, and Amelia snapped her head to look at the new arrival. A girl. Amelia didn’t know her. She was telling them not to shoot. Amelia wasn’t shooting! She hadn’t decided yet! She just wanted him to leave her alone! She just wanted Miss Ivy to be safe. He was scary, didn’t this other girl see?! He was injured a bunch and he talked weird and he made the air feel heavy around her. Amelia didn’t shoot anybody! She was a good girl! Right, Miss Ivy-
…
Miss Ivy?
Ivy was gone. Amelia turned around and Ivy had vanished into thin air. As if she was never there to begin with. Was she not? Amelia felt her breathing pick up speed. Had Ivy actually not been there this whole time? Then who was the boy yelling at? Did that mean he was yelling at her? Saying mean things to her? No… nononononononononono…. That didn’t make sense. She didn’t do anything! She was a good girl! GOOD! Amelia faltered, the gun dropping to her side as she looked back at the boy and the other girl, who was a lot closer now. She backed up a few steps, but tripped and fell on her butt. She started to push herself back from the two, dragging herself along the ground, trying to put as much space between them and her as possible.
“I didn’t do anything!” She cried, tears once again blurring her vision as she tried to escape.
“I’m a good girl! A good girl!” She yelled through the tears, picking her gun up and pointing it in their general direction while still dragging herself backwards along the ground.
((Apologies for the delay, had to switch gears a bit mentally.))
I know enough.
Ty shot Ivy a mocking smile, as it became clear he’d gotten under her skin. It was fascinating how despite her best efforts, she managed to communicate the precise opposite of what she was trying to say. If he hadn’t known anything about her, it wouldn’t have been so easy to strike a nerve.
Funny how much came out of things like this. How little impulses and the decisions one made on them spiraled outwards, potentially changing everything. Half a dozen different points of divergence stuck out in his mind, where he’d projected his decisions past the heat of the moment. Where things might’ve worked out better, if he hadn’t been so careless. Other moments when he should’ve followed his instincts, but didn’t. If he’d kept his head, things might’ve been-
Still doomed to this.
It was going to be pretty bad. It didn’t have to be as bad as it had been, if he could rein himself in. A happy life was out of the question, but he’d settle for scraps if there were any to be found here.
Almost on cue, a voice cut in, between Ty and whatever it was he felt he had left. The interaction had left him wound up, and he immediately looked to the source of the sound. Two girls, one speaking self-righteously about how there wasn’t any need for shooting.
A couple dozen dead teenagers would disagree, but okay.
Looking back, he saw Ivy hightailing it out of the area. He sighed, cursing under his breath. There wasn’t much to get out of confronting her if she just ran off at the first available opportunity, much as it was easy to picture why she’d do it. To some degree he could respect it, but not as much as if she’d just taken Amelia’s gun and shot him with it. She was close to what she had to be to survive, but not close enough. No doubt she’d find someone else to leech off of before long.
Or someone would do the right thing and throw her off somewhere good and high up. That’d be nice.
Ty’s attention turned to Amelia, who was freaking out in the way that a person with a gun really shouldn’t. The stranger - he couldn’t remember her name - her proclamation caused this girl no small amount of distress. At first he couldn’t help but look at her and see cowardice. The panicked words that spilled from her mouth cast things in a different light, though. If his recollection of the announcements was correct, she really hadn’t done anything.
The weapon in her hands put the onus on her to take some kind of action, even if she didn’t want to. The situation called for it, too. But she really didn’t want to. Amelia knew she was a good girl, and that didn’t jive with what she probably knew she ought to do here. This other person calling her on it just wasn’t helping.
It must’ve hurt, that dissonance. He supposed he understood it from the other side. It wasn’t something he really felt, so much as he understood. It was hard to hate someone he felt he could understand, even a little bit. There was no making light of this, no relief to be found in her suffering. It did hurt her. It hurt him to see it, and he wanted it to stop.
Tyrell turned to the two girls who’d arrived, neither armed with anything that would make a difference. Good.
“Shut the fuck up. No one’s shooting anyone for the AT, hon. They’re doing it because they don’t wanna fuckin’ die and a few of us are getting carried away. You only need one.”
Turning back to Amelia, Ty held his palms open and knelt down on one knee, taking care not to move too quickly or too closely. Most importantly, he stood between Amelia and the others.
“Amelia - Amelia! It’s okay. You're good, you’re proving it right now. You didn’t shoot me, and you’re not going to shoot anyone right now. I know you don’t want to. I won’t give you a reason to. I don’t need to hurt you either. Just take it easy.”
There was no note of malice or duplicity in Ty’s voice, and not just because he knew how to hide it. He didn’t know where this decision would lead. He didn’t understand it any more than he did his desire to see Ivy psychologically implode at the idea she was completely irrelevant here. No more than he wanted the self-righteous pacifists to be put in a position where they had to kill someone, just to see what would happen.
There was no long-term here. Not anymore.
All he had left was the moment, and where his instincts took him. Like the late nights he’d spent half-drowning in sin, following whatever bad ideas he or Lorenzo, Axel, or Andy had. No question as to how it was going to end, or what the consequences might’ve been. Running on impulse had given him more than it had taken away; the same couldn’t be said for the wreckage he left behind, but there wasn’t anything more he could do about that now.
There were definitely those whose deaths he’d relish. People who, he’d torment just to ruin whatever chance at catharsis they had in their last moments. Those whose last moments he wanted to be the architect of. Enough that he might even accept his own death if it meant dragging them down with him.
That wasn’t everyone. Only now he was starting to see that antipathy wasn’t the only other option, even as much as he’d tried to hack away at the weakened parts of him that felt things like that. Like scars, it was hard not to notice where this capacity came from. Maybe he didn’t want to let go of it completely. That meant keeping the bullets in Amelia’s gun from ripping through his chest, and her soul.
I know enough.
Ty shot Ivy a mocking smile, as it became clear he’d gotten under her skin. It was fascinating how despite her best efforts, she managed to communicate the precise opposite of what she was trying to say. If he hadn’t known anything about her, it wouldn’t have been so easy to strike a nerve.
Funny how much came out of things like this. How little impulses and the decisions one made on them spiraled outwards, potentially changing everything. Half a dozen different points of divergence stuck out in his mind, where he’d projected his decisions past the heat of the moment. Where things might’ve worked out better, if he hadn’t been so careless. Other moments when he should’ve followed his instincts, but didn’t. If he’d kept his head, things might’ve been-
Still doomed to this.
It was going to be pretty bad. It didn’t have to be as bad as it had been, if he could rein himself in. A happy life was out of the question, but he’d settle for scraps if there were any to be found here.
Almost on cue, a voice cut in, between Ty and whatever it was he felt he had left. The interaction had left him wound up, and he immediately looked to the source of the sound. Two girls, one speaking self-righteously about how there wasn’t any need for shooting.
A couple dozen dead teenagers would disagree, but okay.
Looking back, he saw Ivy hightailing it out of the area. He sighed, cursing under his breath. There wasn’t much to get out of confronting her if she just ran off at the first available opportunity, much as it was easy to picture why she’d do it. To some degree he could respect it, but not as much as if she’d just taken Amelia’s gun and shot him with it. She was close to what she had to be to survive, but not close enough. No doubt she’d find someone else to leech off of before long.
Or someone would do the right thing and throw her off somewhere good and high up. That’d be nice.
Ty’s attention turned to Amelia, who was freaking out in the way that a person with a gun really shouldn’t. The stranger - he couldn’t remember her name - her proclamation caused this girl no small amount of distress. At first he couldn’t help but look at her and see cowardice. The panicked words that spilled from her mouth cast things in a different light, though. If his recollection of the announcements was correct, she really hadn’t done anything.
The weapon in her hands put the onus on her to take some kind of action, even if she didn’t want to. The situation called for it, too. But she really didn’t want to. Amelia knew she was a good girl, and that didn’t jive with what she probably knew she ought to do here. This other person calling her on it just wasn’t helping.
It must’ve hurt, that dissonance. He supposed he understood it from the other side. It wasn’t something he really felt, so much as he understood. It was hard to hate someone he felt he could understand, even a little bit. There was no making light of this, no relief to be found in her suffering. It did hurt her. It hurt him to see it, and he wanted it to stop.
Tyrell turned to the two girls who’d arrived, neither armed with anything that would make a difference. Good.
“Shut the fuck up. No one’s shooting anyone for the AT, hon. They’re doing it because they don’t wanna fuckin’ die and a few of us are getting carried away. You only need one.”
Turning back to Amelia, Ty held his palms open and knelt down on one knee, taking care not to move too quickly or too closely. Most importantly, he stood between Amelia and the others.
“Amelia - Amelia! It’s okay. You're good, you’re proving it right now. You didn’t shoot me, and you’re not going to shoot anyone right now. I know you don’t want to. I won’t give you a reason to. I don’t need to hurt you either. Just take it easy.”
There was no note of malice or duplicity in Ty’s voice, and not just because he knew how to hide it. He didn’t know where this decision would lead. He didn’t understand it any more than he did his desire to see Ivy psychologically implode at the idea she was completely irrelevant here. No more than he wanted the self-righteous pacifists to be put in a position where they had to kill someone, just to see what would happen.
There was no long-term here. Not anymore.
All he had left was the moment, and where his instincts took him. Like the late nights he’d spent half-drowning in sin, following whatever bad ideas he or Lorenzo, Axel, or Andy had. No question as to how it was going to end, or what the consequences might’ve been. Running on impulse had given him more than it had taken away; the same couldn’t be said for the wreckage he left behind, but there wasn’t anything more he could do about that now.
There were definitely those whose deaths he’d relish. People who, he’d torment just to ruin whatever chance at catharsis they had in their last moments. Those whose last moments he wanted to be the architect of. Enough that he might even accept his own death if it meant dragging them down with him.
That wasn’t everyone. Only now he was starting to see that antipathy wasn’t the only other option, even as much as he’d tried to hack away at the weakened parts of him that felt things like that. Like scars, it was hard not to notice where this capacity came from. Maybe he didn’t want to let go of it completely. That meant keeping the bullets in Amelia’s gun from ripping through his chest, and her soul.
Christ, Daria, what are you getting into now? At least Ivy, instead of going batshit crazy, decided to bail out. So at least there was one less gun around. Tyrell just stayed still, but it was the other girl with a gun that decided to go batshit.
“I didn’t do anything! I’m a good girl! A good girl!” While it was not the batshit that Christina was expecting, it did seem like there might be a breakdown coming up.
“Shut the fuck up. No one’s shooting anyone for the terrorists, honey. They’re doing it because they don’t wanna fuckin’ die and a few of us are getting carried away with it. You only need one.” Truer words had never been said. Tyrell then turned to Amelia and started ... comforting her. Which was somewhat surprising, although it was the fourth day, so maybe he had calmed down just a little.
"Yes, we get it." Christina finally approached the group. "You're a good girl. We don't exactly care about that. We just care that you're not doing anything now." She eyed the gun that the other girl had in her hands. It was tempting to try and get it out of her hands, if only to make sure that nobody else had it. Of course, that would mean likely getting her guts pumped full of lead. She simply moved closer as she spoke, hands up, getting a little closer to Daria, Tyrell and Amelia. If she could get Amelia to hand over that thing, it would be great.
“I didn’t do anything! I’m a good girl! A good girl!” While it was not the batshit that Christina was expecting, it did seem like there might be a breakdown coming up.
“Shut the fuck up. No one’s shooting anyone for the terrorists, honey. They’re doing it because they don’t wanna fuckin’ die and a few of us are getting carried away with it. You only need one.” Truer words had never been said. Tyrell then turned to Amelia and started ... comforting her. Which was somewhat surprising, although it was the fourth day, so maybe he had calmed down just a little.
"Yes, we get it." Christina finally approached the group. "You're a good girl. We don't exactly care about that. We just care that you're not doing anything now." She eyed the gun that the other girl had in her hands. It was tempting to try and get it out of her hands, if only to make sure that nobody else had it. Of course, that would mean likely getting her guts pumped full of lead. She simply moved closer as she spoke, hands up, getting a little closer to Daria, Tyrell and Amelia. If she could get Amelia to hand over that thing, it would be great.
Survivor: UCONN - Seriously, it's awesome!
Version 8
Kaede Tsurumi: "Eeep! I-I'm so sorry! I-I'll try not to get in your w-way next time!"
Morgan Whitney
Tyler Slomkowski
Victor Grail: "I didn't give you the lead so that you could lose it! I guess it's up to me to carry us after all."
Version 8
Kaede Tsurumi: "Eeep! I-I'm so sorry! I-I'll try not to get in your w-way next time!"
Morgan Whitney
Tyler Slomkowski
Victor Grail: "I didn't give you the lead so that you could lose it! I guess it's up to me to carry us after all."
Daria sauntered in with all the Clint Eastwood energy she could muster, a woman with no name, absolutely at ease between a rock and a hard place, a fire and a frying pan.
Good that she'd found her pretense, her role, because the scene she stumbled into devolved into fucking chaos almost at once.
Enough.
She had wasted enough time trying to figure out what she thought, how she felt, and what she was supposed to say. Caroline was dead, and dozens more besides. She needed to strike a cutting figure. She needed to-
“I didn’t do anything!"
Daria's head jerked around to the girl clawing her way backwards along the ground. Daria frowned. Hadn't there been another girl?
“I’m a good girl! A good girl!” She yelled through the tears, picking her gun up and pointing it in their general direction while still dragging herself backwards along the ground.
Chris moved to comfort Amelia. Daria nodded slowly, and faced Tyrell, never quite slowing her slow, gunslinger walk. Her face was set. "Yeah?" she asked. "Who gave us these guns? Who strapped these fucking bombs to our necks?" She tapped the bomb on her neck lightly. "The put us here, Ty. They wanted us killing each other so they don't have to. Fucking cowards." She spat on the ground, jerked her head towards Amelia. "Good girl's right. None of us did anything to deserve this," Daria said.
She stopped when she was squarely between Amelia and Ty. "Pull the fucking trigger. Tear me apart. Tear each other apart. Won't get us one inch closer to beating them."
Good that she'd found her pretense, her role, because the scene she stumbled into devolved into fucking chaos almost at once.
Enough.
She had wasted enough time trying to figure out what she thought, how she felt, and what she was supposed to say. Caroline was dead, and dozens more besides. She needed to strike a cutting figure. She needed to-
“I didn’t do anything!"
Daria's head jerked around to the girl clawing her way backwards along the ground. Daria frowned. Hadn't there been another girl?
“I’m a good girl! A good girl!” She yelled through the tears, picking her gun up and pointing it in their general direction while still dragging herself backwards along the ground.
Chris moved to comfort Amelia. Daria nodded slowly, and faced Tyrell, never quite slowing her slow, gunslinger walk. Her face was set. "Yeah?" she asked. "Who gave us these guns? Who strapped these fucking bombs to our necks?" She tapped the bomb on her neck lightly. "The put us here, Ty. They wanted us killing each other so they don't have to. Fucking cowards." She spat on the ground, jerked her head towards Amelia. "Good girl's right. None of us did anything to deserve this," Daria said.
She stopped when she was squarely between Amelia and Ty. "Pull the fucking trigger. Tear me apart. Tear each other apart. Won't get us one inch closer to beating them."
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.”
Amelia continued to frantically attempt to drag her body backwards and away from these people. However, her body was not as strong as it could have been, especially after so many days of not sleeping or eating properly, so all she really managed to do was slip on the muddy ground and fall to her side. Fortunately, her grip on the gun remained firm, and as she pushed herself up from the mud, she continued to hold it up in defiance of the people in front of her. Yelling at her. Telling her she was bad. Amelia knew she was good. She didn’t do anything wrong. Everyone else was wrong. They were all liars. Declyn promised not to leave her, and he vanished when she needed him most. Ivy was supposed to be her friend, but she was gone now too. She trusted Lori, and Lori made her head all funny. Made her afraid of sleeping. Made her mind all fuzzy and hard to focus.
Now they were all coming closer. Why?! Why were they surrounding her? Dolly had been right all along. Other people were scary and mean and she shouldn’t trust any of them. Her heart felt like it was being crushed asshe thought of her late friend, and suddenly she felt like she needed to puke again. But she didn’t have time to be sad. She didn’t have time because they were all in front of her now. Ericka’s scary boyfriend was kneeling in front of her, he was talking but she was barely digesting any of his words. Her mind was foggy and all she could think of was escape. Run away, get up and get out of there. Away from these people. Her hand was shaking as she pointed the gun at them. Her body wasn’t listening to her. She was so tired, her eyes were staying open through willpower and adrenaline alone.
Get up, Amelia! GET UP!
Now the girls were closing in on her as well. They were speaking so harshly towards her. But why? Amelia didn’t hurt anybody. Amelia just wanted to feel safe. Why were they all being so mean? The one girl told her to pull the trigger. That registered. Those words made it through the fog. Pull the trigger? Just pull it? Would that save her? Would that make everyone stop? Stop yelling at her and treating her bad? Like she was a bad girl? She didn’t want to! Last time wasn’t on purpose. Last time she was just scared and didn’t understand. Why were they doing this? Why did she have to pull the trigger?
Why? Why? Why? WhY? WHy? wHY? wHy? why?
WHY?
It happened in an instant. Amelia’s grip on the gun loosened, and before she could drop it she squeezed her hand tighter. But in doing so, she accidentally tightened her finger on the trigger of the gun.
BANG!
It startled her, the sound was so loud it shocked her body into movement. She barely kept herself from dropping the gun again as the recoil hit her and she scrambled to her feet. Did she shoot someone? Oh no. She was being bad. A bad, bad girl. Amelia did something bad. She… she needed to run. To get away from here. Her hand twitched and another loud shot rang out in the same general direction. A small sound of terror spilled from her lips in response, and she spun on her heel and started to run. Run away. Far away. She didn’t mean to!
It was an accident!
Amelia was good!
Right?
[Amelia Fischer Continued In i see u]
Now they were all coming closer. Why?! Why were they surrounding her? Dolly had been right all along. Other people were scary and mean and she shouldn’t trust any of them. Her heart felt like it was being crushed asshe thought of her late friend, and suddenly she felt like she needed to puke again. But she didn’t have time to be sad. She didn’t have time because they were all in front of her now. Ericka’s scary boyfriend was kneeling in front of her, he was talking but she was barely digesting any of his words. Her mind was foggy and all she could think of was escape. Run away, get up and get out of there. Away from these people. Her hand was shaking as she pointed the gun at them. Her body wasn’t listening to her. She was so tired, her eyes were staying open through willpower and adrenaline alone.
Get up, Amelia! GET UP!
Now the girls were closing in on her as well. They were speaking so harshly towards her. But why? Amelia didn’t hurt anybody. Amelia just wanted to feel safe. Why were they all being so mean? The one girl told her to pull the trigger. That registered. Those words made it through the fog. Pull the trigger? Just pull it? Would that save her? Would that make everyone stop? Stop yelling at her and treating her bad? Like she was a bad girl? She didn’t want to! Last time wasn’t on purpose. Last time she was just scared and didn’t understand. Why were they doing this? Why did she have to pull the trigger?
Why? Why? Why? WhY? WHy? wHY? wHy? why?
WHY?
It happened in an instant. Amelia’s grip on the gun loosened, and before she could drop it she squeezed her hand tighter. But in doing so, she accidentally tightened her finger on the trigger of the gun.
BANG!
It startled her, the sound was so loud it shocked her body into movement. She barely kept herself from dropping the gun again as the recoil hit her and she scrambled to her feet. Did she shoot someone? Oh no. She was being bad. A bad, bad girl. Amelia did something bad. She… she needed to run. To get away from here. Her hand twitched and another loud shot rang out in the same general direction. A small sound of terror spilled from her lips in response, and she spun on her heel and started to run. Run away. Far away. She didn’t mean to!
It was an accident!
Amelia was good!
Right?
[Amelia Fischer Continued In i see u]