((Sandra Dyer continued from Tea Party with Death at Dawn.))
How many times can one really listen to the names of the dead before they become numb to the noises that fly in one ear and out the other?
Well, Sandra wasn't sure, but she'd definitely passed that point long ago.
She didn't get that much sleep the last three days, and what little sleep she had was dreamless. Candice had tagged along, and... well, it's not like she'd told her not to, she supposed. They'd managed to find a place to hole up for the last three days, and had managed to avoid any other people. But Sandra wished they'd found a better place.
She looked around the room. It reminded her of a prison cell, and wasn't that just fitting? They were all prisoners on this island, all...
How many people were even left? She remembered two (or was it three?) days ago, when they picked a room and came face to face with two corpses laid on the bed.
Needless to say, they didn't pick that room.
The sun peeked through the bars of the window, and Sandra rubbed her eyes. They had been tingling and itching for the past day... was she getting pink eye? That would have been just great, wouldn't it?
She blinked, a few stray tears forming at the corners of her eyes. She knew she was on an island with a huge bunch of her classmates dead, but pink eye would be the worst.
How long had they been on this island?
As if on cue, the familiar echo of the speakers activating echoed through the hall.
"Good morning all of you that are still alive and welcome to day ten of your adventure here!"
Thanks for that, at least.
1ИS∅MИ1∀
Morning, Day 10, Open
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CondorTalon
- Posts: 450
- Joined: Wed Sep 05, 2018 6:17 am
((Bryony Adams continued from Tea Party with Death at Dawn))
Day ten.
They had reached day ten. They had been on the island for over a week, nearly a week and a half now. They'd somehow survived nine days of murder and bloodshed and heartbreak and terror, nine days that had felt like nine years, each second dragged out for as long as possible to allow for some new horror to happen. Nine days without showering, nine days where sleep came in drips and drabs, nine days where people were pushed to the extremes in the hopes that it would help them survive.
And the worst that Bryony had to show for it all was a pain in her knee and a hole in her hand.
Bryony sat up in her makeshift bed on the floor and stared at the fresh white bandages wrapped around her wound as the announcements began to play. She'd changed them the previous day, the old, bloodstained set left to serve as some macabre flag at their day 8 camp, next to the playing card, still dutifully marking the way for Alba. Just in case.
Just like Sandra, Bryony's mind wasn't fixated on this morning's announcements, but it wasn't due to numbness. She had thought, days ago, that she would never get used to the crackle of loudspeakers coming to life, and her prediction hadn't been proven wrong yet, the sound still raising the hairs on the back of her neck and freezing the blood in her veins.
But when Danya had mentioned they were on day ten, a new thought pushed all of that to the side. A new thought as a whole, but one made of several different voices constantly churning around her mind. They were getting close to the end by now, or at least that was how it was beginning to feel. A lot of people had died. A lot of strong and driven people, a lot of people who would have achieved great things in a different timeline, a lot of people who had seen the terrorists' orders as the only possible way out. And Bryony had outlasted all of them.
It was so hard not to think that she didn't deserve to be still breathing when others weren't.
It had plagued her all her life, that feeling of not 'deserving' anything. That constant feeling that she always just another also-ran, that she'd never be good enough for anything or anyone. And now the simple act of living was making her feel as though she was somehow doing something wrong, like she had robbed someone deserving of her "spot" of their life.
But another feeling, stronger than that one, and somehow growing stronger, reminded her that she was just as deserving of living as anyone else on this damned island. Her classmates' deaths were not on her hands; there were always going to be people, people like Bridgette and Henry and Bradley, that just thinking about would wrack Bryony's mind with guilt as to what she could have done to save them. But she couldn't save every single person on the island. Nobody on here could.
And if she couldn't save everyone and if she couldn't kill anyone, what else could she do but live?
Slowly, Bryony rooted around on the floor, searching for her hair ties, tying her hair up into pigtails as the announcements rattled on. She had been able to stymie one of her mental issues, but with the days now stretching into the double digits, there were plenty of other issues that needed to be dealt with, and that were beginning to crop up.
A low rumble echoed from Bryony's stomach, and she paused midway through bunching up her hair as one of those issues made itself known.
"Do, um... How much food does everybody have left?"
Day ten.
They had reached day ten. They had been on the island for over a week, nearly a week and a half now. They'd somehow survived nine days of murder and bloodshed and heartbreak and terror, nine days that had felt like nine years, each second dragged out for as long as possible to allow for some new horror to happen. Nine days without showering, nine days where sleep came in drips and drabs, nine days where people were pushed to the extremes in the hopes that it would help them survive.
And the worst that Bryony had to show for it all was a pain in her knee and a hole in her hand.
Bryony sat up in her makeshift bed on the floor and stared at the fresh white bandages wrapped around her wound as the announcements began to play. She'd changed them the previous day, the old, bloodstained set left to serve as some macabre flag at their day 8 camp, next to the playing card, still dutifully marking the way for Alba. Just in case.
Just like Sandra, Bryony's mind wasn't fixated on this morning's announcements, but it wasn't due to numbness. She had thought, days ago, that she would never get used to the crackle of loudspeakers coming to life, and her prediction hadn't been proven wrong yet, the sound still raising the hairs on the back of her neck and freezing the blood in her veins.
But when Danya had mentioned they were on day ten, a new thought pushed all of that to the side. A new thought as a whole, but one made of several different voices constantly churning around her mind. They were getting close to the end by now, or at least that was how it was beginning to feel. A lot of people had died. A lot of strong and driven people, a lot of people who would have achieved great things in a different timeline, a lot of people who had seen the terrorists' orders as the only possible way out. And Bryony had outlasted all of them.
It was so hard not to think that she didn't deserve to be still breathing when others weren't.
It had plagued her all her life, that feeling of not 'deserving' anything. That constant feeling that she always just another also-ran, that she'd never be good enough for anything or anyone. And now the simple act of living was making her feel as though she was somehow doing something wrong, like she had robbed someone deserving of her "spot" of their life.
But another feeling, stronger than that one, and somehow growing stronger, reminded her that she was just as deserving of living as anyone else on this damned island. Her classmates' deaths were not on her hands; there were always going to be people, people like Bridgette and Henry and Bradley, that just thinking about would wrack Bryony's mind with guilt as to what she could have done to save them. But she couldn't save every single person on the island. Nobody on here could.
And if she couldn't save everyone and if she couldn't kill anyone, what else could she do but live?
Slowly, Bryony rooted around on the floor, searching for her hair ties, tying her hair up into pigtails as the announcements rattled on. She had been able to stymie one of her mental issues, but with the days now stretching into the double digits, there were plenty of other issues that needed to be dealt with, and that were beginning to crop up.
A low rumble echoed from Bryony's stomach, and she paused midway through bunching up her hair as one of those issues made itself known.
"Do, um... How much food does everybody have left?"
"bryony and alba would definitely join the terrorists quote me on this put this quote in signatures put it in history books" - Cicada Days, 2017
((Candice Banks continued from Tea Party with Death at Dawn))
Candice didn't particularly want to think about the answer to that question. It wasn't like she'd been keeping inventory or anything... for the past few days she'd just fished around in her bag until she found one of her rations to eat that day. So if she'd counted ten of those when she'd first woken up, and this was the tenth day...
"I- I think I'm out."
Worried, she began rummaging through the bottom of her pack. Honestly, of all the things that might finally do her in, dying from not realizing that she'd run out of food was possibly the most pathetic. She could just imagine the announcement a few days from now: "We'll start today of with a public service announcement: People who don't eat, die. Candice Banks apparently didn't know this, so we're just giving a reminder to anybody else who might've been failed by the American education system"
Then again, being trapped on an island of killers and ending up dying of something as uneventful as starvation sounded like par for the course for her, given how things had been going so far.
Candice felt something in the bottom of her bag. Pulling it out, it seemed that she still had one ration left. Had she started with more than ten? Wait, today was the tenth day and she hadn't eaten yet, so she'd only used nine of them so far.
"Er, make that one left." So much unnecessary panic, all because she apparently couldn't handle simple math. Wonderful.
Candice didn't particularly want to think about the answer to that question. It wasn't like she'd been keeping inventory or anything... for the past few days she'd just fished around in her bag until she found one of her rations to eat that day. So if she'd counted ten of those when she'd first woken up, and this was the tenth day...
"I- I think I'm out."
Worried, she began rummaging through the bottom of her pack. Honestly, of all the things that might finally do her in, dying from not realizing that she'd run out of food was possibly the most pathetic. She could just imagine the announcement a few days from now: "We'll start today of with a public service announcement: People who don't eat, die. Candice Banks apparently didn't know this, so we're just giving a reminder to anybody else who might've been failed by the American education system"
Then again, being trapped on an island of killers and ending up dying of something as uneventful as starvation sounded like par for the course for her, given how things had been going so far.
Candice felt something in the bottom of her bag. Pulling it out, it seemed that she still had one ration left. Had she started with more than ten? Wait, today was the tenth day and she hadn't eaten yet, so she'd only used nine of them so far.
"Er, make that one left." So much unnecessary panic, all because she apparently couldn't handle simple math. Wonderful.
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Muninn. 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.
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CondorTalon
- Posts: 450
- Joined: Wed Sep 05, 2018 6:17 am
"Food?" Sandra said unconsciously. It suddenly occurred to her that Bryony was right... Sandra hadn't really been keeping track of their... or specifically her food supply.
She rummaged through her bag.
"I'm... still good... I think," she said. She actually had a few rations left... obviously pilfering corpses had done her well.
She tapped her foot impatiently as the bag went back beside her.
"I'm gonna..." she started, standing up. She paused as she tried to put her thoughts into words.
"I'm gonna walk around," she simply finished, "I won't go far. I'll be right back."
She said it to try to reassure... them? Herself? She didn't know. What she did know was that she left with no regard to any objections they might have posed.
((Sandra Dyer continued in ████████.))
She rummaged through her bag.
"I'm... still good... I think," she said. She actually had a few rations left... obviously pilfering corpses had done her well.
She tapped her foot impatiently as the bag went back beside her.
"I'm gonna..." she started, standing up. She paused as she tried to put her thoughts into words.
"I'm gonna walk around," she simply finished, "I won't go far. I'll be right back."
She said it to try to reassure... them? Herself? She didn't know. What she did know was that she left with no regard to any objections they might have posed.
((Sandra Dyer continued in ████████.))
((Alice Baker continued from Tea Party with Death at Dawn))
Finally got it...
Alice limped onto the scene a bit late. The wound on her leg had reopened recently, so she had fallen a bit behind as she took the time to redress it. She had hoped that would be the end of it, but she had woken up to discover that the bandage had been bled through again. On the bright side, she was becoming a natural at tending to her own injuries, but the fact that her wound was not healing well did little to give her confidence.
She had listened to her group's concerns about their food supplies, and took a little time to search through her own bags to find out how well she was doing. Her rations were, to put it nicely, bare-bones. By her approximation, she had enough to last maybe a day and a half, possibly even two days if she stretched it. Either way, it wasn't a huge amount. "Not much on my end. Maybe a little over a day's worth." She reported.
She stepped out of the way while Sandra left for... whatever reason she may have had. She flinched a little as she put more weight on her newly re-bandaged leg and slowly brought herself into a sitting position. She looked between her two companions, both of whom seemed to be feeling the effects of a spartan, barely-filling diet. She placed her hand on her pack, slowly sliding towards the zipper, wondering if what she was about to ask was really the wisest option. But looking at the others, she really couldn't avoid it.
"Do you want to split some of mine?"
Finally got it...
Alice limped onto the scene a bit late. The wound on her leg had reopened recently, so she had fallen a bit behind as she took the time to redress it. She had hoped that would be the end of it, but she had woken up to discover that the bandage had been bled through again. On the bright side, she was becoming a natural at tending to her own injuries, but the fact that her wound was not healing well did little to give her confidence.
She had listened to her group's concerns about their food supplies, and took a little time to search through her own bags to find out how well she was doing. Her rations were, to put it nicely, bare-bones. By her approximation, she had enough to last maybe a day and a half, possibly even two days if she stretched it. Either way, it wasn't a huge amount. "Not much on my end. Maybe a little over a day's worth." She reported.
She stepped out of the way while Sandra left for... whatever reason she may have had. She flinched a little as she put more weight on her newly re-bandaged leg and slowly brought herself into a sitting position. She looked between her two companions, both of whom seemed to be feeling the effects of a spartan, barely-filling diet. She placed her hand on her pack, slowly sliding towards the zipper, wondering if what she was about to ask was really the wisest option. But looking at the others, she really couldn't avoid it.
"Do you want to split some of mine?"
"Hey, um, Sandra, wait up a sec..."
Bryony's plea might as well have been uttered to the cameras and to Danya himself, for all the attention and consideration it received. Her voice trailed away as Sandra kept on walking, out of the room and down the corridor, off to do whatever it was she had in mind. She stayed watching the doorway, listening to Sandra's echoing footsteps, until even they disappeared into nothingness.
"Stay safe..." Bryony murmured, a prayer unheard by the world.
She stayed that way for several moments, still watching the doorway, unknowing that she had seen her friend alive for the last time. How could she? How could she have ever predicted that her last sight of Sandra Dyer would be in a derelict room in a ruined asylum?
It took Bryony a couple more moments to realise that the announcement had finished playing. She had, in the past few days, trained herself to listen out for a select couple of names; Alba's and Gary's. Mercifully, neither of them had appeared on there since they'd woken up in the gardens, neither as killer nor killed. Every other name... well, they all still hurt. But it was a numbing pain, rather than a sharp, piercing one.
Was that better, or was that worse? Bryony couldn't tell. She didn't want to be able to. There was already far, far too much for her to worry about, and for her to hate herself for.
She looked down into her bag as the other two discussed the state of their food supplies. There wasn't much to look at. Her map and set of cards were in her pockets, and she hadn't brought any spare clothing with her on the trip. All that was left in there was her first aid kit, survival guide, and flashlight.
The only food in there was a few stray crumbs.
Bryony could feel her heart sinking like a ball and chain, as she searched every nook and cranny of the bag, already knowing she wasn't going to find anything. Truth be told, it was a miracle her supplies had lasted her this long, with the boy on the beach making off with the lion's share of them on the first day. She'd already gone a couple of meals without eating. Now it looked like that would be the state for her remaining few on the island.
"I'm, um... I'm out of food."
Bryony spoke in a hollow voice, not looking up at the other two.
Bryony's plea might as well have been uttered to the cameras and to Danya himself, for all the attention and consideration it received. Her voice trailed away as Sandra kept on walking, out of the room and down the corridor, off to do whatever it was she had in mind. She stayed watching the doorway, listening to Sandra's echoing footsteps, until even they disappeared into nothingness.
"Stay safe..." Bryony murmured, a prayer unheard by the world.
She stayed that way for several moments, still watching the doorway, unknowing that she had seen her friend alive for the last time. How could she? How could she have ever predicted that her last sight of Sandra Dyer would be in a derelict room in a ruined asylum?
It took Bryony a couple more moments to realise that the announcement had finished playing. She had, in the past few days, trained herself to listen out for a select couple of names; Alba's and Gary's. Mercifully, neither of them had appeared on there since they'd woken up in the gardens, neither as killer nor killed. Every other name... well, they all still hurt. But it was a numbing pain, rather than a sharp, piercing one.
Was that better, or was that worse? Bryony couldn't tell. She didn't want to be able to. There was already far, far too much for her to worry about, and for her to hate herself for.
She looked down into her bag as the other two discussed the state of their food supplies. There wasn't much to look at. Her map and set of cards were in her pockets, and she hadn't brought any spare clothing with her on the trip. All that was left in there was her first aid kit, survival guide, and flashlight.
The only food in there was a few stray crumbs.
Bryony could feel her heart sinking like a ball and chain, as she searched every nook and cranny of the bag, already knowing she wasn't going to find anything. Truth be told, it was a miracle her supplies had lasted her this long, with the boy on the beach making off with the lion's share of them on the first day. She'd already gone a couple of meals without eating. Now it looked like that would be the state for her remaining few on the island.
"I'm, um... I'm out of food."
Bryony spoke in a hollow voice, not looking up at the other two.
"bryony and alba would definitely join the terrorists quote me on this put this quote in signatures put it in history books" - Cicada Days, 2017
Candice had been tempted to take Alice up on her offer to share food, but held off on saying anything. Setting aside the momentary panic that she had found herself in earlier, it wasn't like she was in immediate danger of starving. For that matter, now that she'd had a bit of a wake up call regarding how low supplies were, she could probably try to stretch her last ration out for two days. It wasn't likely that Alice had large stockpiles of food herself, anyway.
But still... sometimes things happen. People get separated, or dead, or supplies can get lost or stolen. Candice only had a day or two of food left, at the most. Shouldn't she make sure she was prepared in case the worst-case scenario came true?
That line of thinking worked its way into Candice's mind, but was halted in its tracks once Bryony spoke up. After that, there was no way she could say anything about the matter. How could she sit there and ask for extra food when someone else didn't have any?
"I can probably manage on my own... for a while, at least."
But still... sometimes things happen. People get separated, or dead, or supplies can get lost or stolen. Candice only had a day or two of food left, at the most. Shouldn't she make sure she was prepared in case the worst-case scenario came true?
That line of thinking worked its way into Candice's mind, but was halted in its tracks once Bryony spoke up. After that, there was no way she could say anything about the matter. How could she sit there and ask for extra food when someone else didn't have any?
"I can probably manage on my own... for a while, at least."
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Muninn. 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.
Candice was confident in her supply, but Bryony was fresh out. It didn't take any more provocation than that for Alice to reopen her pack and take another look at her remaining food. There wasn't much to speak of. One and a half bottles of water, about three-quarters of a piece of bread, and a slightly smushed energy bar. Not glamorous or filling by any stretch of the imagination, but it was food, and food kept her alive.
And it was going to keep Bree alive too.
With a bit of hesitation, Alice tore off almost half of her bread chunk and removed the half-empty bottle of water from her pack. She stood up with a little difficulty, trying to focus on her stronger leg, and brought the foodstuffs over to Bryony. She tapped her hungry friend on the shoulder and extended the items in her hand to her, holding them almost directly in her face.
"Take it." She instructed. "It's better than nothing."
And it was going to keep Bree alive too.
With a bit of hesitation, Alice tore off almost half of her bread chunk and removed the half-empty bottle of water from her pack. She stood up with a little difficulty, trying to focus on her stronger leg, and brought the foodstuffs over to Bryony. She tapped her hungry friend on the shoulder and extended the items in her hand to her, holding them almost directly in her face.
"Take it." She instructed. "It's better than nothing."
Bryony stared down into the depths of her bag, as if it were a magic 8 ball, and she was waiting for it to give her all the answers she needed – or, more accurately, wanted. No matter how long she looked, however, and no matter how much she wished, nothing changed and nothing was going to change. The crumbs weren't going to morph together and form another loaf of bread. She couldn't will a handful of energy bars to appear out of thin air. Her bag was empty. That was how it was gonna remain.
Taking deep, shaky breaths, Bryony tried to recall her scant knowledge about starvation. If she was running on a full stomach, then going through a whole day without food would be pretty much no problem; a few hunger pangs here and there throughout the day, but no more than that. She hadn't managed to get three square meals a day out here, though – she was lucky if she could even manage one on most occasions. Still, even when feeling asleep hungry, the human body could easily survive for a day without eating, and likely for even longer than that. And, well.
No matter how you sliced it, they were all reaching the end of this "game". There would be one person left standing long before hunger was supposed to claim her.
So starvation wasn't going to kill her. Not directly, at least. But the slow and steady build up towards it was almost as dangerous out here. How could she stay focused and press forwards when every movement ached and tore at her insides? How could she keep a clear head when the only thing on her mind would be food? The longer this carried on, the worse her mental and physical states would get, and the more likely she'd mess up around one of the remaining players and -
The tap on her shoulder near made Bryony leap out of her skin, letting out a little yelp of surprise as she spun round to see who it was. Alice. Only Alice. Of course, of course it was Alice, the girl who was her lighthouse on this island, reaching out to her and offering her food. Bryony glanced up at her best friend, then down at the bread and water in her hand, then back up at Alice. Instinct took over her, and she started speaking without thinking.
"Oh, um, It's... It's okay, Alice, really. I'll... I'm sure I'll be fine without..."
Another rumble from her stomach completely shattered Bryony's already fragile pretence, and she gazed at Alice for a few moments through watery eyes. With delicate hands, she took the food and water from Alice, and a smile managed to break through onto her face.
"Thank you..."
Bryony tore off a small chunk of bread, stowing the rest in her bag next to the water bottle, slowly chewing on her meagre breakfast, trying to savour each bite. It had happened again, just like she thought it would. Something had happened, something that, no matter how small or large, had threatened to tip her over the edge into total despair. And then, suddenly, something or someone else had arrived to drag her back out again.
You could chalk it down purely to luck, really. It was luck that had allowed her to find Alice and Sandra, luck that had allowed them to avoid the majority of the players, luck that had prevented the boy from the beach's theft to have completely ended her game days ago. It wasn't exactly what one thought of when they thought of "The Fittest," was it?
But that was bullshit. Survival, especially in a scenario like this, where the odds were stacked high, high against you, was down to 99% luck. People were stronger than her, people were faster than her, people were smarter and more charismatic and more attractive and more dangerous than her, but if a stray bullet flew your way, or you took just too long to get out of a danger zone, or the terrorists decided they were just gonna blow your collar for fun, then none of those skills mattered one tiny bit. Luck could make you or break you.
And if Bryony was going to make it to the end solely on luck, then so be it.
She finished off the last morsel of bread, quickly dipping back into her bag to wash it down with a swig of water. She took a moment to compose herself, looking down at her bag once more, before getting to her feet, still slightly shaky.
"Okay, um... Okay. We can't just... sit around here all day. There's still things we need to do. We, um, still need to get a weapon, and we... we still need to find Alba..."
Bryony could feel her cheeks starting to burn as she made herself the centre of attention.
"I'll, um... I'll go and find Sandra, tell her... tell her we're gonna get a move on... okay?"
Taking deep, shaky breaths, Bryony tried to recall her scant knowledge about starvation. If she was running on a full stomach, then going through a whole day without food would be pretty much no problem; a few hunger pangs here and there throughout the day, but no more than that. She hadn't managed to get three square meals a day out here, though – she was lucky if she could even manage one on most occasions. Still, even when feeling asleep hungry, the human body could easily survive for a day without eating, and likely for even longer than that. And, well.
No matter how you sliced it, they were all reaching the end of this "game". There would be one person left standing long before hunger was supposed to claim her.
So starvation wasn't going to kill her. Not directly, at least. But the slow and steady build up towards it was almost as dangerous out here. How could she stay focused and press forwards when every movement ached and tore at her insides? How could she keep a clear head when the only thing on her mind would be food? The longer this carried on, the worse her mental and physical states would get, and the more likely she'd mess up around one of the remaining players and -
The tap on her shoulder near made Bryony leap out of her skin, letting out a little yelp of surprise as she spun round to see who it was. Alice. Only Alice. Of course, of course it was Alice, the girl who was her lighthouse on this island, reaching out to her and offering her food. Bryony glanced up at her best friend, then down at the bread and water in her hand, then back up at Alice. Instinct took over her, and she started speaking without thinking.
"Oh, um, It's... It's okay, Alice, really. I'll... I'm sure I'll be fine without..."
Another rumble from her stomach completely shattered Bryony's already fragile pretence, and she gazed at Alice for a few moments through watery eyes. With delicate hands, she took the food and water from Alice, and a smile managed to break through onto her face.
"Thank you..."
Bryony tore off a small chunk of bread, stowing the rest in her bag next to the water bottle, slowly chewing on her meagre breakfast, trying to savour each bite. It had happened again, just like she thought it would. Something had happened, something that, no matter how small or large, had threatened to tip her over the edge into total despair. And then, suddenly, something or someone else had arrived to drag her back out again.
You could chalk it down purely to luck, really. It was luck that had allowed her to find Alice and Sandra, luck that had allowed them to avoid the majority of the players, luck that had prevented the boy from the beach's theft to have completely ended her game days ago. It wasn't exactly what one thought of when they thought of "The Fittest," was it?
But that was bullshit. Survival, especially in a scenario like this, where the odds were stacked high, high against you, was down to 99% luck. People were stronger than her, people were faster than her, people were smarter and more charismatic and more attractive and more dangerous than her, but if a stray bullet flew your way, or you took just too long to get out of a danger zone, or the terrorists decided they were just gonna blow your collar for fun, then none of those skills mattered one tiny bit. Luck could make you or break you.
And if Bryony was going to make it to the end solely on luck, then so be it.
She finished off the last morsel of bread, quickly dipping back into her bag to wash it down with a swig of water. She took a moment to compose herself, looking down at her bag once more, before getting to her feet, still slightly shaky.
"Okay, um... Okay. We can't just... sit around here all day. There's still things we need to do. We, um, still need to get a weapon, and we... we still need to find Alba..."
Bryony could feel her cheeks starting to burn as she made herself the centre of attention.
"I'll, um... I'll go and find Sandra, tell her... tell her we're gonna get a move on... okay?"
"bryony and alba would definitely join the terrorists quote me on this put this quote in signatures put it in history books" - Cicada Days, 2017
Something about Bryony's proposal that she go search for Sandra didn't sit right with Candice. She figured at first that it might have been concern about the other girl going of alone, but the slightest bit of thought made that train of thought seem silly. (After all, wasn't Sandra by herself right now?) It was a little while before she realized what her problem with the suggestion was: whether finding her would even be possible. Bluntly speaking, this asylum was fucking huge.
Well, maybe that was a bit of an exaggeration. But it seemed like it would be ridiculously easy to miss each other because someone went down to search one floor while the person they were looking for decided to go up, or something like that.
"I don't know if that's... I mean, do you know where to look?"
It wasn't that she wanted to be contrarian. In fact Candice was trying her best not to sound like she was shooting down ideas for actually doing something, because Lord knows that those were few enough without being instantly dismissed. Leaving Sandra on her own was also something to be avoided... honestly, they probably should've stopped her from wandering off in the first place. So in the end she didn't actually have any way to improve the idea. But somehow, it just felt to her that there was "Bad Idea" written all over this.
Well, maybe that was a bit of an exaggeration. But it seemed like it would be ridiculously easy to miss each other because someone went down to search one floor while the person they were looking for decided to go up, or something like that.
"I don't know if that's... I mean, do you know where to look?"
It wasn't that she wanted to be contrarian. In fact Candice was trying her best not to sound like she was shooting down ideas for actually doing something, because Lord knows that those were few enough without being instantly dismissed. Leaving Sandra on her own was also something to be avoided... honestly, they probably should've stopped her from wandering off in the first place. So in the end she didn't actually have any way to improve the idea. But somehow, it just felt to her that there was "Bad Idea" written all over this.
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Muninn. 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.
Alice watched Bryony until she finished the bread. She took a couple of steps back to give her some space while she ate, but didn't avert her eyes. It wasn't that she didn't trust Bree not to waste her food, but her subconscious forced her to keep an eye on her regardless.
Once she had finished her share of the food, Bree declared a plan to search for Sandra. At the mention of her name, Alice looked around, surprised that Sandra hadn't come back yet. She thought that the other girl would only be away for a few minutes. The fact that she still hadn't come back was... concerning, to say the least. But something about the suggestion bothered her, specifically the part where Bryony said "I" instead of "We." Alice had a problem with the suggestion that she would head off on her own when they were still struggling with finding a weapon to protect themselves, and she spoke up to make her opinion known.
"You want to find Sandra, then we're coming with you." She said, voice solid with confidence. "We're already unarmed, so you aren't going anywhere alone. At least not until we fix that."
Once she had finished her share of the food, Bree declared a plan to search for Sandra. At the mention of her name, Alice looked around, surprised that Sandra hadn't come back yet. She thought that the other girl would only be away for a few minutes. The fact that she still hadn't come back was... concerning, to say the least. But something about the suggestion bothered her, specifically the part where Bryony said "I" instead of "We." Alice had a problem with the suggestion that she would head off on her own when they were still struggling with finding a weapon to protect themselves, and she spoke up to make her opinion known.
"You want to find Sandra, then we're coming with you." She said, voice solid with confidence. "We're already unarmed, so you aren't going anywhere alone. At least not until we fix that."
Bryony looked from Alice to Candice and back again, back and forth and back and forth, face flushed. Her cheeks had gone from merely burning to feeling white hot. They were both, obviously, right. Searching for Sandra by herself would just do more harm than good; the clue was in the name, after all. She would have to wander around this entire building and search every inch of it first before she could bring Sandra back to the group. If Sandra already made her way back whilst Bryony was still checking each room, then that would be even more time lost waiting for her to get back.
And if she stumbled across someone with an intention to play, separated from her friends and allies, with nothing to defend herself with...
"Okay..." Bryony said, voice tremulous. She closed her bag up and pulled it onto her back.
"Okay, no, you're right, you're... I'm sorry... I just wanted to get something done..."
Bryony sniffed. Oh, it was tempting. It was so, so tempting to break down again. On top of everything else that had happened, she had finally made an attempt at a leadership role, tried to make some sort of assertive decision, and she had fallen flat on her face at the very first hurdle. In other time and another place, she wouldn't have gotten up again. She would have let someone else take the reins and would have kept her dumb mouth shut, because she was obviously too stupid and dense to make decisions for herself.
But, right now, she was here. There wasn't time to hate herself. There were things they needed to do. Things they needed to find, people they needed to find.
And the knowledge that they were very, very close to the end was right at the forefront of her mind as well.
"So let's, um... Let's get something done together, then..."
Bryony bit her lip, then tried to offer a smile to her two companions.
"We should, um, close the door behind us, and I'll, um, stick one of these in there somewhere- "
After a bit of fumbling, Bryony pulled a playing card from her pocket. The Six of Hearts. She was almost at the end of the final suit.
"- And then I'll, um, place the rest as we go along. That way, um, if Sandra comes back to the room, she'll be able to find her way to... wherever we wind up."
Bryony rubbed her eyes, stifled a yawn, and moved towards the exit. Hunger and exhaustion were desperately fighting to take control over her body. She had cried more than she had thought possible, had her heart broken a thousand times over. Each day had felt like a year of torment, and sleep had never been a restful departure from that, as she knew each morning the first thing she'd be greeted by would be more sorrow and despair. No-one would blame her for giving up. No-one would chastise her for falling short.
She kept moving forwards. She wasn't done yet.
((Bryony Adams continued in Rain, Rain, Come Again))
And if she stumbled across someone with an intention to play, separated from her friends and allies, with nothing to defend herself with...
"Okay..." Bryony said, voice tremulous. She closed her bag up and pulled it onto her back.
"Okay, no, you're right, you're... I'm sorry... I just wanted to get something done..."
Bryony sniffed. Oh, it was tempting. It was so, so tempting to break down again. On top of everything else that had happened, she had finally made an attempt at a leadership role, tried to make some sort of assertive decision, and she had fallen flat on her face at the very first hurdle. In other time and another place, she wouldn't have gotten up again. She would have let someone else take the reins and would have kept her dumb mouth shut, because she was obviously too stupid and dense to make decisions for herself.
But, right now, she was here. There wasn't time to hate herself. There were things they needed to do. Things they needed to find, people they needed to find.
And the knowledge that they were very, very close to the end was right at the forefront of her mind as well.
"So let's, um... Let's get something done together, then..."
Bryony bit her lip, then tried to offer a smile to her two companions.
"We should, um, close the door behind us, and I'll, um, stick one of these in there somewhere- "
After a bit of fumbling, Bryony pulled a playing card from her pocket. The Six of Hearts. She was almost at the end of the final suit.
"- And then I'll, um, place the rest as we go along. That way, um, if Sandra comes back to the room, she'll be able to find her way to... wherever we wind up."
Bryony rubbed her eyes, stifled a yawn, and moved towards the exit. Hunger and exhaustion were desperately fighting to take control over her body. She had cried more than she had thought possible, had her heart broken a thousand times over. Each day had felt like a year of torment, and sleep had never been a restful departure from that, as she knew each morning the first thing she'd be greeted by would be more sorrow and despair. No-one would blame her for giving up. No-one would chastise her for falling short.
She kept moving forwards. She wasn't done yet.
((Bryony Adams continued in Rain, Rain, Come Again))
"bryony and alba would definitely join the terrorists quote me on this put this quote in signatures put it in history books" - Cicada Days, 2017
Way to be a total bitch, Candice.
Seriously, it would have been so much better if she could have just said something to the effect of "Mind if we all search together? It might be safer that way." But no, she'd managed to word it in a way that paraphrased to "Your idea is dumb. Try again."
Bryony didn't argue, or get angry at Candice, which was probably a bad sign. If she'd just been able to brush off the criticism with "Candice is just being ornery, never mind her" they'd be fine. Well, maybe not "fine" since getting into arguments during life-or-death situations was probably not the most ideal thing to be doing, but they probably would have been able to stick together even in those circumstances if Candice could just keep her mouth shut. But Bryony didn't get irritated at having her idea shot down right away. She didn't attempt to defend it.
"She's right, all of my ideas are bad."
If you asked what Bryony was thinking right now, that would be Candice's response. She'd be willing to bet money on it.
It was a train of thought that she'd become all too familiar with during this past week.
Well, in the end they had some sort of purpose to be working towards now, even if the girl leading the way sounded like she was about to start crying. They even had a solution to the problem of "What if Sandra returns and we're elsewhere" that had made Candice hesitate to suggest that they all go together, or rather it was a super obvious solution that Candice hadn't seen on her own. For the time being, it seemed that there wouldn't be any issues.
Except...
There was the one issue. The one that Alice had brought up, but in the wrong context.
"We're already unarmed, so you aren't going anywhere alone. At least not until we fix that."
While she had been on her own, Candice had bounced back and forth between the states of "I don't want to appear threatening" and "I don't want to appear weak." At the time she had met up with this group, she'd been feeling more like the former, so her gun had been stuffed into her bag. She'd avoided the topic for enough time that her next attitude shift was towards the state of "I don't want to appear deceitful." Consequently, none of her companions knew that she was armed.
In the process of trying not to look like a suspicious person Candice had become a person worthy of suspicion. And as she followed Bryony out into the hallway, she reflected on the fact that with every day that passed it was becoming a harder subject to address.
((Candice Banks continued in Rain, Rain, Come Again))
Seriously, it would have been so much better if she could have just said something to the effect of "Mind if we all search together? It might be safer that way." But no, she'd managed to word it in a way that paraphrased to "Your idea is dumb. Try again."
Bryony didn't argue, or get angry at Candice, which was probably a bad sign. If she'd just been able to brush off the criticism with "Candice is just being ornery, never mind her" they'd be fine. Well, maybe not "fine" since getting into arguments during life-or-death situations was probably not the most ideal thing to be doing, but they probably would have been able to stick together even in those circumstances if Candice could just keep her mouth shut. But Bryony didn't get irritated at having her idea shot down right away. She didn't attempt to defend it.
"She's right, all of my ideas are bad."
If you asked what Bryony was thinking right now, that would be Candice's response. She'd be willing to bet money on it.
It was a train of thought that she'd become all too familiar with during this past week.
Well, in the end they had some sort of purpose to be working towards now, even if the girl leading the way sounded like she was about to start crying. They even had a solution to the problem of "What if Sandra returns and we're elsewhere" that had made Candice hesitate to suggest that they all go together, or rather it was a super obvious solution that Candice hadn't seen on her own. For the time being, it seemed that there wouldn't be any issues.
Except...
There was the one issue. The one that Alice had brought up, but in the wrong context.
"We're already unarmed, so you aren't going anywhere alone. At least not until we fix that."
While she had been on her own, Candice had bounced back and forth between the states of "I don't want to appear threatening" and "I don't want to appear weak." At the time she had met up with this group, she'd been feeling more like the former, so her gun had been stuffed into her bag. She'd avoided the topic for enough time that her next attitude shift was towards the state of "I don't want to appear deceitful." Consequently, none of her companions knew that she was armed.
In the process of trying not to look like a suspicious person Candice had become a person worthy of suspicion. And as she followed Bryony out into the hallway, she reflected on the fact that with every day that passed it was becoming a harder subject to address.
((Candice Banks continued in Rain, Rain, Come Again))
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Muninn. 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.
Alice was relieved at how easily they all came to the agreement that they needed to stick together. She gathered up her belongings and left with the other two, lagging a bit behind thanks to her injury, but still keeping up.
They needed to find Sandra, then they could get back to figuring out what to do next. Three was god, but four was better. With all of them standing together, they could probably handle anything that came at them. Numbers were a huge advantage, after all. More heads means more plans to choose from.
And as for how they would survive... they could figure that part out once they were done finding Sandra.
((Alice Baker continued elsewhere...))
They needed to find Sandra, then they could get back to figuring out what to do next. Three was god, but four was better. With all of them standing together, they could probably handle anything that came at them. Numbers were a huge advantage, after all. More heads means more plans to choose from.
And as for how they would survive... they could figure that part out once they were done finding Sandra.
((Alice Baker continued elsewhere...))