((Coming from: Violence Fetish))
If you where to go to Webster.com and type in the word “Home” you’d get a series of definitions, six if you want a solid definition. Six was also the amount of people Peri had killed, but let’s save that irony for when he got off this island, finally got a myspace account and blasted the cruel thing called existence in a blog. Now, the most curious of these definitions for the word “Home” for Peri would be under 3 a : a familiar or usual setting, what that meant was that Peri’s home would have to have been somewhere filled with death, violence, or in recent days a cruel mixture of the two. He recalled when he pointed this out in an essay on the first day of the 8th grade in which the topic was “What was your home”, Peri responded with death. Of course it’s considered inappropriate by most to go into gruesome detail on your mothers rape and your best friends murder.
Now, why this was on Peri’s mind was also haunting him at this very moment. Was it possible that the reason he had adapted so quickly to this game because he truly only felt at home when he was killing someone? When he walked around the island surrounded by the stench, unpleasant sight, and most of all the unbelievably mind-blowing presence the corpses caused him he couldn’t help but feel the safest now, alone, with corpses the only friends to guide him. Was death really is home? Was he thinking all these thoughts because he had come to terms with that?
Maybe, but the obvious reason would be because he was approaching the small house. The house, a claustrophobic boys nightmare and Peri Barclay, the nightmare of more than a few people on SOTF…and above all the last view of six of them, six things to define home in Peri’s mind.
Had leaving Stevan changed anything? Who would trust him? He was the second highest killer on the island, second to Adam Dodd in kill count, and second to Cody Jenson is bounty…how un-fucking believable was that?
“Strange how people will now hate me because I’ll come into an area and not shoot it up…” he stared at the Ingram, the sight of him pummeling the little skinny boy with it and then the Davies girl seemed to make him shudder, the boy himself made him think of David. Killed without a second thought, he was probably someone’s best friend, trusting the Davies girl only to be pummeled by bullets by a more powerful stranger seconds later.
What an ironic metaphor for his life.
Was redemption even an option any more? Could he simply say “My bad, I’m sorry I was just sort of power tripping when I killed those six people, an honest mistake right?”
He looked at his watch…he had been at the Small House for six minutes. He turned to the corpses…six. Six definitions of home.
Home.
Where Peri Barclay Resides...
Home.
"My man got too familiar and I’d ended up having to whoop his ass, man, you know. Because he would step across the line. Habitually. He’s a habitual line stepper.” -Charlie Murphy
V8 Relationship Thread
Slidin'
Lookin' for the opps, they been hidin'
I grew up 'round drugs, sex, and violence
We turnt off they street, we heard sirens
Since a juvenile, I been wylin'
Slidin'
Lookin' for the opps, they been hidin'
I grew up 'round drugs, sex, and violence
We turnt off they street, we heard sirens
Since a juvenile, I been wylin'
((Coming From Violence Fetish))
The adrenaline from surviving the lighthouse was still pumping through Dorian as he tried to drag himself through the brush. Reason had left him, for the fact that he simply didn't need to think too much about running away.
He had become quite good at it, on his stay here.
Among the blurring trees and the dirt and the pain ascending up his right leg, the only words passing through his mind and making all the commands was this: Survive, run, live, prevail.
It's obvious Dorian had limited vocabulary when reverting to only instinct, his body following the simple commands to meet one goal. He wanted safety.
That safety came in the form of a rather small house with no door, and as he stumbled up through it a flash of memories returned to him.
"Dorian, do you know how to clean a Browning BDM pistol? I'll need you to do that while I tend to these wounds."
"Oh," he fell back into a corner, his glasses taking this moment to fly off of his face. It didn't matter either way, Dorian had shut his eyes tight as he shook his head from side to side.
"M m maybe..Maybe we should bury it.."
His hand snapped up to his temple, trying to force out the memory of Garrett's death. It couldn't be anything significant, could it? Instinct was replaced by Dorian's sanity once more, and the sudden memory made him wonder if all of this, this suffering of others and of person fighting against person, was just a blip on God's radar.
"No, that would take too much time. In this game, you have to move fast or someone you can't beat will eventually find you. Trust me on that one, I've been here a while...."
Move fast. Run. Keep running until that's the only thing you know, right? Don't think about the bodies lying on the floor with you. Garrett's still has to be here. It has to be lying there in his own blood. Dried by now.
A flash of pain wrenched Dorian's eyes back open, and he squinted as he tried to focus on his leg. Without his glasses he was pretty much doomed to viewing blurry shadows and blotches of color. He didn't even know if it was his own leg he was staring at.
"Unh," he tried to move his hands down to his leg to feel if there was anything wrong. The only thing he could feel was what felt like a nasty welt near his ankle, but he pulled back quickly at the burning sensation in his hands. Rope burns. Nasty things, not that he had ever experienced them before. Gym class hadn't been that cruel.
"I'm so fucked here."
The adrenaline from surviving the lighthouse was still pumping through Dorian as he tried to drag himself through the brush. Reason had left him, for the fact that he simply didn't need to think too much about running away.
He had become quite good at it, on his stay here.
Among the blurring trees and the dirt and the pain ascending up his right leg, the only words passing through his mind and making all the commands was this: Survive, run, live, prevail.
It's obvious Dorian had limited vocabulary when reverting to only instinct, his body following the simple commands to meet one goal. He wanted safety.
That safety came in the form of a rather small house with no door, and as he stumbled up through it a flash of memories returned to him.
"Dorian, do you know how to clean a Browning BDM pistol? I'll need you to do that while I tend to these wounds."
"Oh," he fell back into a corner, his glasses taking this moment to fly off of his face. It didn't matter either way, Dorian had shut his eyes tight as he shook his head from side to side.
"M m maybe..Maybe we should bury it.."
His hand snapped up to his temple, trying to force out the memory of Garrett's death. It couldn't be anything significant, could it? Instinct was replaced by Dorian's sanity once more, and the sudden memory made him wonder if all of this, this suffering of others and of person fighting against person, was just a blip on God's radar.
"No, that would take too much time. In this game, you have to move fast or someone you can't beat will eventually find you. Trust me on that one, I've been here a while...."
Move fast. Run. Keep running until that's the only thing you know, right? Don't think about the bodies lying on the floor with you. Garrett's still has to be here. It has to be lying there in his own blood. Dried by now.
A flash of pain wrenched Dorian's eyes back open, and he squinted as he tried to focus on his leg. Without his glasses he was pretty much doomed to viewing blurry shadows and blotches of color. He didn't even know if it was his own leg he was staring at.
"Unh," he tried to move his hands down to his leg to feel if there was anything wrong. The only thing he could feel was what felt like a nasty welt near his ankle, but he pulled back quickly at the burning sensation in his hands. Rope burns. Nasty things, not that he had ever experienced them before. Gym class hadn't been that cruel.
"I'm so fucked here."
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Chase. While this handler hasn't been around in quite a while, should they return and wish to take custody of this account and/or its posts, they are welcome to do so by contacting staff.
“I suppose if this was another day I’d have to agree with you…”
The boy had appeared the front doorway of the Small House after Peri was there for seven minutes, while Peri had found comfort inside the house, comfortably sitting on one of the small wooden chairs; Dorian had found himself huddled into a corner crying over the pain he felt. Or at least that was the view Peri had of it.
Peri stared at the boy and felt almost disgusted as he found that his Ingram was pointed at the boy, beckoning the boy to just come towards it. Had he really become so…heartless? There was a boy sitting there, in pain, obviously not a threat and he found himself pointing the MAC-10 at him, his finger ever so slightly on the trigger, ready to send out the bullets.
He imagined how the boy’s screams would harmonize with the sounds of the bullets to create an almost beautiful monotonous beat, something that only the cold-hearted and the insane would find so exquisite.
And he, Peri Barclay had become both of those in eight days…sickening. He wanted the boy to be a friend, but he wanted him to be an enemy as well. Maybe to receive some sort of redemption for his actions, or maybe to just…just have justification for the six kills to his name.
Come as you are, as you were
As I want you to be
As a friend, as a friend
As an old enemy
Take your time
Hurry up
The choice is yours
Don't be late
Take a rest
As a friend
As an old…
“You alright man?” the boy had obviously been attacked, he shuddered, it could’ve been by Choi, or Hyde…maybe, maybe he had caused the boys pain? How fitting, the boy would find his assailant giving him help just because he was going through some moral epiphany.
What happened next surprised Peri, for the first time in the presence of a new person he’d let his finger slip from the gun. He’d dropped his guard; of course removing his hand from the Ingram caused him to put his fingers through his hair, in an attempt to get it out of his eyes.
I wouldn’t want to lose all my usefulness just because I’m teary-eyed due to the fact that I got hair in my eyes…
He found himself approaching the boy, and helping him up. He recalled what “Freak” had said before, “This was Blood-Boy and Freak, they didn’t care about anything but themselves, and occasionally each other…” that was the mentality he had adopted within this game, but so quickly he found himself helping the helpless, attempting redemption.
Don’t get too far ahead of yourself Peri; you still are a killer, don’t forget that…
“What the fuck happened to you…” Peri stated before sitting the kid down on the chair he previously occupied and pulling out the bottled water from his pack (His own pack) and opening it up, he desperately knew he shouldn’t have handed it to the boy when he did, but empathy was something he hadn’t forgotten.
No matter how much he wanted to he could not find complete indifference, complete apathy, not when the face of David came to view and it was ironic that with every boy in this game he saw David was synonymous with, and he and Stevan seemed to have shared the face with that killer so many years ago.
He stared at the boy, Peri Barclay didn’t care if the boy was an enemy or a friend right now, he just wanted him to be a boy. He just wanted to be a boy.
Come as you are…
The boy had appeared the front doorway of the Small House after Peri was there for seven minutes, while Peri had found comfort inside the house, comfortably sitting on one of the small wooden chairs; Dorian had found himself huddled into a corner crying over the pain he felt. Or at least that was the view Peri had of it.
Peri stared at the boy and felt almost disgusted as he found that his Ingram was pointed at the boy, beckoning the boy to just come towards it. Had he really become so…heartless? There was a boy sitting there, in pain, obviously not a threat and he found himself pointing the MAC-10 at him, his finger ever so slightly on the trigger, ready to send out the bullets.
He imagined how the boy’s screams would harmonize with the sounds of the bullets to create an almost beautiful monotonous beat, something that only the cold-hearted and the insane would find so exquisite.
And he, Peri Barclay had become both of those in eight days…sickening. He wanted the boy to be a friend, but he wanted him to be an enemy as well. Maybe to receive some sort of redemption for his actions, or maybe to just…just have justification for the six kills to his name.
Come as you are, as you were
As I want you to be
As a friend, as a friend
As an old enemy
Take your time
Hurry up
The choice is yours
Don't be late
Take a rest
As a friend
As an old…
“You alright man?” the boy had obviously been attacked, he shuddered, it could’ve been by Choi, or Hyde…maybe, maybe he had caused the boys pain? How fitting, the boy would find his assailant giving him help just because he was going through some moral epiphany.
What happened next surprised Peri, for the first time in the presence of a new person he’d let his finger slip from the gun. He’d dropped his guard; of course removing his hand from the Ingram caused him to put his fingers through his hair, in an attempt to get it out of his eyes.
I wouldn’t want to lose all my usefulness just because I’m teary-eyed due to the fact that I got hair in my eyes…
He found himself approaching the boy, and helping him up. He recalled what “Freak” had said before, “This was Blood-Boy and Freak, they didn’t care about anything but themselves, and occasionally each other…” that was the mentality he had adopted within this game, but so quickly he found himself helping the helpless, attempting redemption.
Don’t get too far ahead of yourself Peri; you still are a killer, don’t forget that…
“What the fuck happened to you…” Peri stated before sitting the kid down on the chair he previously occupied and pulling out the bottled water from his pack (His own pack) and opening it up, he desperately knew he shouldn’t have handed it to the boy when he did, but empathy was something he hadn’t forgotten.
No matter how much he wanted to he could not find complete indifference, complete apathy, not when the face of David came to view and it was ironic that with every boy in this game he saw David was synonymous with, and he and Stevan seemed to have shared the face with that killer so many years ago.
He stared at the boy, Peri Barclay didn’t care if the boy was an enemy or a friend right now, he just wanted him to be a boy. He just wanted to be a boy.
Come as you are…
"My man got too familiar and I’d ended up having to whoop his ass, man, you know. Because he would step across the line. Habitually. He’s a habitual line stepper.” -Charlie Murphy
V8 Relationship Thread
Slidin'
Lookin' for the opps, they been hidin'
I grew up 'round drugs, sex, and violence
We turnt off they street, we heard sirens
Since a juvenile, I been wylin'
Slidin'
Lookin' for the opps, they been hidin'
I grew up 'round drugs, sex, and violence
We turnt off they street, we heard sirens
Since a juvenile, I been wylin'
Was it odd that Dorian thought he saw the grim reaper himself before his eyes? He didn't think so. The figure in the room was only a mass of blurs that he could barely tell apart from every other abstract piece of crap he looked at without his glasses. What a mess. What a damned mess, and the only thing Dorian could do was start bawling.
Pathetic, really.
"D-d-don't, h-h-hurt me. Please!" the last word left him as a high-pitched squeal, worse than the one he emitted when he let go of the rope. He recoiled backwards when the figure moved closer.
It had to be his eyes. They weren't any help without the lenses in front of them. The figure looked blurry and eyeless, pale like a skull, and his mind put together pieces. Was he going to kill him? That stunt Dorian pulled at the lighthouse only preserving his fragmented life to be a death for this person? Dorian had no more weapons, not even that rope that had been his inatimate savior.
What do you do when in threatened? Run, right? Where now?
Dorian's sobs grew louder when hands met his weak biceps and lifted his frail body from the floor. There he fell, comatose and silent within moments of hitting the chair. And the words from the figure's lips meant more to him than anything had in weeks.
“What the fuck happened to you…”
"A-are you joking?" he snapped, finally catching the words flying around and buzzing through is brain.
"I-I just barely survived an explosion! M-m-my leg is f-f-fucked! That just being in the last few m-m-minutes! What happened, is that what I'm supposed to tell you? How far back to we want to go with this? How about where I watched as someone in this very room killed someone else?! H-h-how about when I couldn't even have the decency to bury the poor guy? W-w-we, d-d-don't deserve to die for some game like this!"
He brought up his good leg close to his chest and wrapped his arms around his shin, pressing his thigh against his chest. He was heaving, trying not to puke, trying even harder not to let the headache overwhelm him. It was his eyes, they needed those glasses.
"Pfft, w-why am I even whining? What's it going to do? Stop you from k-k-k-killing me? No, whining about the injustice was for day 3. Giving up is for today. S-s-so if you're going to d-d-do it, do it. I want to live, but my life probably isn't more important to you than your own. D-d-do me a favor though, get me my glasses?"
I want to really see if you're a reaper, or an angel.
Pathetic, really.
"D-d-don't, h-h-hurt me. Please!" the last word left him as a high-pitched squeal, worse than the one he emitted when he let go of the rope. He recoiled backwards when the figure moved closer.
It had to be his eyes. They weren't any help without the lenses in front of them. The figure looked blurry and eyeless, pale like a skull, and his mind put together pieces. Was he going to kill him? That stunt Dorian pulled at the lighthouse only preserving his fragmented life to be a death for this person? Dorian had no more weapons, not even that rope that had been his inatimate savior.
What do you do when in threatened? Run, right? Where now?
Dorian's sobs grew louder when hands met his weak biceps and lifted his frail body from the floor. There he fell, comatose and silent within moments of hitting the chair. And the words from the figure's lips meant more to him than anything had in weeks.
“What the fuck happened to you…”
"A-are you joking?" he snapped, finally catching the words flying around and buzzing through is brain.
"I-I just barely survived an explosion! M-m-my leg is f-f-fucked! That just being in the last few m-m-minutes! What happened, is that what I'm supposed to tell you? How far back to we want to go with this? How about where I watched as someone in this very room killed someone else?! H-h-how about when I couldn't even have the decency to bury the poor guy? W-w-we, d-d-don't deserve to die for some game like this!"
He brought up his good leg close to his chest and wrapped his arms around his shin, pressing his thigh against his chest. He was heaving, trying not to puke, trying even harder not to let the headache overwhelm him. It was his eyes, they needed those glasses.
"Pfft, w-why am I even whining? What's it going to do? Stop you from k-k-k-killing me? No, whining about the injustice was for day 3. Giving up is for today. S-s-so if you're going to d-d-do it, do it. I want to live, but my life probably isn't more important to you than your own. D-d-do me a favor though, get me my glasses?"
I want to really see if you're a reaper, or an angel.
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Chase. While this handler hasn't been around in quite a while, should they return and wish to take custody of this account and/or its posts, they are welcome to do so by contacting staff.
“Looks like we’ve both had a hell of a week…” Peri said with a small smile, this smile was more out of concern for the boy. He’d killed people exactly like him, helpless, yet he never got a chance to speak to them, maybe he would’ve found someone exactly like him. Of course his eyes widened when the boy mentioned an explosion, the only explosion he was aware of had been caused by him and Hyde not ten minutes before him and the boy began this conversation, regardless on whether it was true or not Peri felt for perhaps the first time in this game a pang of guilt. He’d fucked up the boys life so much and hadn’t even gave the boy the common courtesy of finishing him off, and now…well it’d be considered impolite by many scholars of etiquette to just pelt someone with bullets when they asked you a favor.
As he turned around in search for the boys glasses, as luck where to have it they where near Peri, so near that if he had laid down casually they would’ve been crushed by his back.
“Here you go man…” he said as he handed the boy his glasses “I’m not going to kill you, exsistance has become to hard to deal with for me to get off my lazy ass and kill you and even then…I don’t know the way things have been going recently, it’s like…I don’t know who I am and I don’t like who I’ve become…” Peri paused “ I don't know if you've ever felt like that. That you wanted to sleep for a thousand years. Or just not exist. Or just not be aware that you do exist. Or something like that. I think wanting that is very morbid, but I want it when I get like this. That's why I'm trying not to think. I just want it all to stop spinning. Which is why I’m not thinking and because I’m not thinking…I’m letting my guard down around a complete stranger.” he laughed to himself.
“Every major tactician in the world must be cracking up since letting ones guard down is perhaps the most idiotic thing you could do…though I’m not the smartest of people to be honest.” he smiled, the smile was becoming genuine…he was becoming genuine. Having a straight up conversation with someone you didn’t even know could do that to you, being spontaneous in a way that didn’t involve the deaths of others most certaintly could do that to you.
“Names Peri, you?”
As he turned around in search for the boys glasses, as luck where to have it they where near Peri, so near that if he had laid down casually they would’ve been crushed by his back.
“Here you go man…” he said as he handed the boy his glasses “I’m not going to kill you, exsistance has become to hard to deal with for me to get off my lazy ass and kill you and even then…I don’t know the way things have been going recently, it’s like…I don’t know who I am and I don’t like who I’ve become…” Peri paused “ I don't know if you've ever felt like that. That you wanted to sleep for a thousand years. Or just not exist. Or just not be aware that you do exist. Or something like that. I think wanting that is very morbid, but I want it when I get like this. That's why I'm trying not to think. I just want it all to stop spinning. Which is why I’m not thinking and because I’m not thinking…I’m letting my guard down around a complete stranger.” he laughed to himself.
“Every major tactician in the world must be cracking up since letting ones guard down is perhaps the most idiotic thing you could do…though I’m not the smartest of people to be honest.” he smiled, the smile was becoming genuine…he was becoming genuine. Having a straight up conversation with someone you didn’t even know could do that to you, being spontaneous in a way that didn’t involve the deaths of others most certaintly could do that to you.
“Names Peri, you?”
"My man got too familiar and I’d ended up having to whoop his ass, man, you know. Because he would step across the line. Habitually. He’s a habitual line stepper.” -Charlie Murphy
V8 Relationship Thread
Slidin'
Lookin' for the opps, they been hidin'
I grew up 'round drugs, sex, and violence
We turnt off they street, we heard sirens
Since a juvenile, I been wylin'
Slidin'
Lookin' for the opps, they been hidin'
I grew up 'round drugs, sex, and violence
We turnt off they street, we heard sirens
Since a juvenile, I been wylin'
Dorian heard the best six words ever as he placed his glasses securely on the bridge of his nose. The words made his jaw drop, and when he finally had the clear vision to see the boy in front of him, he couldn't even manage to get a stutter out.
"I'm not going to kill you..."
"Uh ha. Hahahahahahaha!" He let out a howl of a laugh and let his head fly back.
"Y-you're serious aren't you? You're not going to h-h-hurt me! Oh, oh thank you! Thank you!"
Dorian couldn't remember once when he wasn't threatened death by someone. Even when Jacob had first met him, a gun to his head was the greeting he experienced.
"My name's Dorian."
"I'm not going to kill you..."
"Uh ha. Hahahahahahaha!" He let out a howl of a laugh and let his head fly back.
"Y-you're serious aren't you? You're not going to h-h-hurt me! Oh, oh thank you! Thank you!"
Dorian couldn't remember once when he wasn't threatened death by someone. Even when Jacob had first met him, a gun to his head was the greeting he experienced.
"My name's Dorian."
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Chase. While this handler hasn't been around in quite a while, should they return and wish to take custody of this account and/or its posts, they are welcome to do so by contacting staff.
“So Dorian, pardon me for being so front with this…but may I see your weaponry?” how horribly one sided was that? Peri noticed that he himself had a plethora of weaponry on him, two magnums, one saber, and of course what had been his best friend in this game; the Ingram. The Ingram had been his best friend in all of this, they where inseparable in every action this game had, Ingram and Peri, Peri and Ingram, sounds like the shit teens carve on trees.
Teens like him or our good ol’ friend Dorian used to write on trees. Calling Dorian a friend might have been a little bit presumptuous, but…meh, who really cared at this point? He found it odd that the gun still hadn’t found itself being pointed at Dorian’s chest, what an arrogant move, like putting your king in the queen’s path before commencing your checkmate.
If one thing Peri had to say and Dorian might agree with him would be that Metaphors where indeed fun. How odd? For the first time in the course of this game he had no urge to ruin the serene environment unfolding before him, no reason to add another notch into his belt kill wise. He was Peri Barclay, the badasss who assisted in the elimination of a terrorist, but he was by no means a killing machine. Coming to that realization helped him feel better than he did when he left Stevan, Dorian made him feel better.
Okay…that was a bit to gay for my tastes…
Teens like him or our good ol’ friend Dorian used to write on trees. Calling Dorian a friend might have been a little bit presumptuous, but…meh, who really cared at this point? He found it odd that the gun still hadn’t found itself being pointed at Dorian’s chest, what an arrogant move, like putting your king in the queen’s path before commencing your checkmate.
If one thing Peri had to say and Dorian might agree with him would be that Metaphors where indeed fun. How odd? For the first time in the course of this game he had no urge to ruin the serene environment unfolding before him, no reason to add another notch into his belt kill wise. He was Peri Barclay, the badasss who assisted in the elimination of a terrorist, but he was by no means a killing machine. Coming to that realization helped him feel better than he did when he left Stevan, Dorian made him feel better.
Okay…that was a bit to gay for my tastes…
"My man got too familiar and I’d ended up having to whoop his ass, man, you know. Because he would step across the line. Habitually. He’s a habitual line stepper.” -Charlie Murphy
V8 Relationship Thread
Slidin'
Lookin' for the opps, they been hidin'
I grew up 'round drugs, sex, and violence
We turnt off they street, we heard sirens
Since a juvenile, I been wylin'
Slidin'
Lookin' for the opps, they been hidin'
I grew up 'round drugs, sex, and violence
We turnt off they street, we heard sirens
Since a juvenile, I been wylin'
With his glasses aiding his sight once more, Dorian got a good look at the boy helping him. Namely, the weapons he was wearing like some kind of royal robes over all his clothes. His eyes went about two sizes bigger and his hands began to shake.
"Uh, oh shit," he looked down at his hands clutching the water bottle. This was when he realized that this boy wasn't going to hurt him. He gave him water.
At first thought it didn't look very convincing, that bottle of water with the cap still on it, but Dorian took it for a sign of peace. With only limited provisions on the island, as he knew too well with all of his gone now, water had to be very important to players who still had them in their possession. If the boy was willing to let him have some water, why would he kill him? That's a real waste of water.
Why the hell was he thinking about water?
"I've no m-more weapons. I couldn't, the fire, the explosion. I climbed down with a rope," his sentences were becoming less littered with is usual stuttering. His throat was really dry, he realized, and took a small sip from the water bottle.
"I don't have to ask if you have weapons. J-j-jesus, how many, though?" he reached his hand out to Peri with the bottle resting on his open palm.
Dorian winced when he tried to lift himself from the chair Peri had placed him in. The red marks on his hands were already blistering from the rope burns. He sat back down and shifted in his chair. Forget the past days, here and now was going to be pretty important. This guy was nice enough. He gave him water. Maybe he should ally himself for now.
His mind flashed back to the Edmond Dantes idea. It was good, he could exact revenge upon those who had attacked him, win the game. Use this guy to win the game, trust him for the moment, gather strength.
Dorian pushed his glasses up to the bridge of his nose again with his fingers. A shy smile spread across his face, and he held his hand out again.
"We can be friends right? We can help each other?"
"Uh, oh shit," he looked down at his hands clutching the water bottle. This was when he realized that this boy wasn't going to hurt him. He gave him water.
At first thought it didn't look very convincing, that bottle of water with the cap still on it, but Dorian took it for a sign of peace. With only limited provisions on the island, as he knew too well with all of his gone now, water had to be very important to players who still had them in their possession. If the boy was willing to let him have some water, why would he kill him? That's a real waste of water.
Why the hell was he thinking about water?
"I've no m-more weapons. I couldn't, the fire, the explosion. I climbed down with a rope," his sentences were becoming less littered with is usual stuttering. His throat was really dry, he realized, and took a small sip from the water bottle.
"I don't have to ask if you have weapons. J-j-jesus, how many, though?" he reached his hand out to Peri with the bottle resting on his open palm.
Dorian winced when he tried to lift himself from the chair Peri had placed him in. The red marks on his hands were already blistering from the rope burns. He sat back down and shifted in his chair. Forget the past days, here and now was going to be pretty important. This guy was nice enough. He gave him water. Maybe he should ally himself for now.
His mind flashed back to the Edmond Dantes idea. It was good, he could exact revenge upon those who had attacked him, win the game. Use this guy to win the game, trust him for the moment, gather strength.
Dorian pushed his glasses up to the bridge of his nose again with his fingers. A shy smile spread across his face, and he held his hand out again.
"We can be friends right? We can help each other?"
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Chase. While this handler hasn't been around in quite a while, should they return and wish to take custody of this account and/or its posts, they are welcome to do so by contacting staff.
“Friendship? Now, tell me if you where in my situation, what would the benefits of me helping a little shit with no weapons? How do I know you’re not just going to use me and stab me…or rather punch me very hard…fuck it just attempt to outsmart me, Dorian?” he smiled at Dorian, intimidation the one things his canines where good for, “Nah, I’m just fucking with you. To be frank I doubt you could hold a gun with those rope burns…but the sight of you doing the jig with Ingram bullets pelting at you does seem tempting…” he stared at Dorian and paused for a second, he would have to explain this in a way that seems nice.
“Over the past few minutes I’ve learned that being random can cause great changes in your life. In this game my movements have been predictable, flat, monotonous and without reason…but Dorian with you I’m going to be nice, what the fuck right? You only live once and if you do decide to kill me, I’ve made my mark on existence…it’s better to burn out than to fade a way, can we agree on that?” he smiled at Dorian.
“Now you talk about friendship, by friendship I hope you mean a sense of interdependence, if so I’m going to require two things from you…” he tossed him his cigarettes “You guide these with your life.” he said with a smile revealing the canines once more and then he reached into his pocket, the second of his two magnums being revealed, he loaded it up and tossed it at Dorian (after flicking the safety on of course) “And that you don’t provoke me to ever. And I mean ever pull the trigger to this MAC-10 whilst it’s pointing at you…” he pointed the gun at Dorian’s chest for a short while to illustrate the point.
Giving Dorian the magnum was really a no brainer, he was more useful to Peri with a gun than being a blind, wounded, and weak ally for him to preoccupy his time with and he already had another magnum, the Ingram of course was out of the question, it was his ace in the whole and the saber? Well all guns run out of ammo eventually and there was that morbid quaintness that came with decapitating someone on live television.
You haven’t changed at all Peri…
“Over the past few minutes I’ve learned that being random can cause great changes in your life. In this game my movements have been predictable, flat, monotonous and without reason…but Dorian with you I’m going to be nice, what the fuck right? You only live once and if you do decide to kill me, I’ve made my mark on existence…it’s better to burn out than to fade a way, can we agree on that?” he smiled at Dorian.
“Now you talk about friendship, by friendship I hope you mean a sense of interdependence, if so I’m going to require two things from you…” he tossed him his cigarettes “You guide these with your life.” he said with a smile revealing the canines once more and then he reached into his pocket, the second of his two magnums being revealed, he loaded it up and tossed it at Dorian (after flicking the safety on of course) “And that you don’t provoke me to ever. And I mean ever pull the trigger to this MAC-10 whilst it’s pointing at you…” he pointed the gun at Dorian’s chest for a short while to illustrate the point.
Giving Dorian the magnum was really a no brainer, he was more useful to Peri with a gun than being a blind, wounded, and weak ally for him to preoccupy his time with and he already had another magnum, the Ingram of course was out of the question, it was his ace in the whole and the saber? Well all guns run out of ammo eventually and there was that morbid quaintness that came with decapitating someone on live television.
You haven’t changed at all Peri…
"My man got too familiar and I’d ended up having to whoop his ass, man, you know. Because he would step across the line. Habitually. He’s a habitual line stepper.” -Charlie Murphy
V8 Relationship Thread
Slidin'
Lookin' for the opps, they been hidin'
I grew up 'round drugs, sex, and violence
We turnt off they street, we heard sirens
Since a juvenile, I been wylin'
Slidin'
Lookin' for the opps, they been hidin'
I grew up 'round drugs, sex, and violence
We turnt off they street, we heard sirens
Since a juvenile, I been wylin'
Dorian was worried about a few things, all concerning the game, but the most immediate was the intention of his new acquaintence. Who was, at the moment, insulting poor Dorian as he pointed out that there wasn't a thing Dorian could do to help him. Peri's smile prompted him to speak up.
"I'm smart, I can help you that way. Or I can be bait, you know, lead people..."
When he thought about it more, though, the prospect of killing others... being cruel like the others had been to him, it wouldn't pan out. With Dorian's sanity back in place, he didn't very well think that turning into the monster he hated so much would be the right course of action. Even if it was what his new friend may have wanted from him. He didn't know. Dorian was no Dantes, instead he was Dumas, the person who could only imagine such courage or passion and hatred.
"On second though, I probably couldn't do any of that... sorry."
Peri continued to ramble on after Dorian spoke. He talked about burning out and fading away. It was no coincidence that Dorian wasn't fond of the word choice. Burning equals pain. Rope equals pain. Falling off rope equals pain. Just a whole lot of ouch, in fact. He looked down at his lap and let the words just flow in one ear and out the other, until suddenly he found a pack of cigarettes laying there. Nasty things, they gave you lung cancer, didn't the guy know? He looked up and just about jumped two feet when Peri loaded a gun and tossed it to him. He nearly dropped it on the ground with his hands still stinging.
One of Peri's other guns nearly scared the piss out of Dorian when the barrel pointed straight at him. Being in such a small area made him think that maybe being indoors was bad when near someone with a lot of weaponry. He finally managed to tuck the gun in his pants before seeing that the barrel was gone now.
"Uh, p-perhaps, maybe, we could head somewhere else?" he darted his eyes around the room just in case Peri decided to change his mind and take a shot. At least outside he might have a chance to run. Something he was good at.
"Whatever you want, I just thought, y-y-you know?"
((Continued in Emotional Catalyst))
"I'm smart, I can help you that way. Or I can be bait, you know, lead people..."
When he thought about it more, though, the prospect of killing others... being cruel like the others had been to him, it wouldn't pan out. With Dorian's sanity back in place, he didn't very well think that turning into the monster he hated so much would be the right course of action. Even if it was what his new friend may have wanted from him. He didn't know. Dorian was no Dantes, instead he was Dumas, the person who could only imagine such courage or passion and hatred.
"On second though, I probably couldn't do any of that... sorry."
Peri continued to ramble on after Dorian spoke. He talked about burning out and fading away. It was no coincidence that Dorian wasn't fond of the word choice. Burning equals pain. Rope equals pain. Falling off rope equals pain. Just a whole lot of ouch, in fact. He looked down at his lap and let the words just flow in one ear and out the other, until suddenly he found a pack of cigarettes laying there. Nasty things, they gave you lung cancer, didn't the guy know? He looked up and just about jumped two feet when Peri loaded a gun and tossed it to him. He nearly dropped it on the ground with his hands still stinging.
One of Peri's other guns nearly scared the piss out of Dorian when the barrel pointed straight at him. Being in such a small area made him think that maybe being indoors was bad when near someone with a lot of weaponry. He finally managed to tuck the gun in his pants before seeing that the barrel was gone now.
"Uh, p-perhaps, maybe, we could head somewhere else?" he darted his eyes around the room just in case Peri decided to change his mind and take a shot. At least outside he might have a chance to run. Something he was good at.
"Whatever you want, I just thought, y-y-you know?"
((Continued in Emotional Catalyst))
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Chase. While this handler hasn't been around in quite a while, should they return and wish to take custody of this account and/or its posts, they are welcome to do so by contacting staff.
“Dorian, Dorian. In this game you can move slowly, especially when being in a group…moving slowly is almost synonymous with getting separated, okay, so we stay close to one another at all times. I don’t think a big boy like you needs me to hold your hand or anything, in fact I don’t think you want anything to hold your hand with the way those hands are…” his hands, Peri had completely forgotten why he didn’t want to shoot the boy in the first place, his injuries.
“We’re going to need to clean out your wounds man, I got a first aid kit…but the safest place to do that would be the bathrooms, plus I smell like shit…and my hair? Well I got a good mixture of blood, sweat, and tears in there…literally.” he said with a smile, “So we’ll hit the bathroom get washed up and patched up and then we’ll bail. We’ll have to go through the ravine…I would say the Warehouse but…there are a likely to be a lot of people barricading themselves there…we should stay away from people…just survive, y’know?” Peri almost laughed, he’d been a killer this entire time…seeking out groups to kill.
“So man…let’s bolt.”
(Continued in: Emotional Catalyst))
“We’re going to need to clean out your wounds man, I got a first aid kit…but the safest place to do that would be the bathrooms, plus I smell like shit…and my hair? Well I got a good mixture of blood, sweat, and tears in there…literally.” he said with a smile, “So we’ll hit the bathroom get washed up and patched up and then we’ll bail. We’ll have to go through the ravine…I would say the Warehouse but…there are a likely to be a lot of people barricading themselves there…we should stay away from people…just survive, y’know?” Peri almost laughed, he’d been a killer this entire time…seeking out groups to kill.
“So man…let’s bolt.”
(Continued in: Emotional Catalyst))
"My man got too familiar and I’d ended up having to whoop his ass, man, you know. Because he would step across the line. Habitually. He’s a habitual line stepper.” -Charlie Murphy
V8 Relationship Thread
Slidin'
Lookin' for the opps, they been hidin'
I grew up 'round drugs, sex, and violence
We turnt off they street, we heard sirens
Since a juvenile, I been wylin'
Slidin'
Lookin' for the opps, they been hidin'
I grew up 'round drugs, sex, and violence
We turnt off they street, we heard sirens
Since a juvenile, I been wylin'