((Lana Torres continued from The Unlucky Clover Field))
Ever since she was little, Lana dreamed of being a bat.
Of course, it was a silly fantasy, and she knew that it wasn't going to happen. But when her first grade teacher pulled out books about bats and began teaching them, she was captivated. For a few weeks, everyone did art projects on bats and the teacher, with her kind smile, read to them the story of Stellaluna or gave them basic facts about them. Lana's only true experience with bats was during Halloween, where they were portrayed as monstrous beings. But it turned out, some of them were nice. Many of them ate fruit or bugs, for example. Bats weren't as scary as they looked. Sometime later in her life, to reward her for good grades, her parents managed to find a way to take her to the Woodland Zoo. She remembered the hanging flying foxes, looking curiously at her and the other guests, and she remembered how she smiled. Those bats were precious, with their black and orange coats and their large eyes. Naturally, for Christmas the same year they got her a flying fox plushie, and she had hugged it for a long time. To this day, she still had it; it was even small enough to fit in her bag, though she hadn't taken it out since she had woken up at the aviary.
Bats meant a lot to her. When she first became a furry, it was almost natural for her to associate herself with one. Bats were cute, but they were also misunderstood and did a lot for the world's ecology.
Lana occasionally wondered about what being a bat was like. This time, however, it was more a fantasy of fleeing away. Lana pictured her arms growing into leathery wings, and flapping them so that she would be away from the island, never to be afraid again.
The lounge was very dark, very lonesome even with three people in it. It looked like it was almost opulent back in the day. Small dried puddles of wax littered the tables, and from a distance she could see a stocked bar. It reminded her of something she didn't want to be reminded of, especially right now.
The announcements had come on again sometime this morning. Once more, Lana had found the closest place to her in the woods where they had been walking, and listened in. Everyone knew what she had done. It wasn't a secret to them. What's more, something had happened to Mike. Mike had been stabbed; she hadn't gotten the name of the killer, but it happened. He was gone too.
This place made her feel uncomfortable. Lana was both scared to leave this place, which they had decided to rest in, but she hated being here. It wasn't just the fact that this lounge room reminded her of some horror movie. It was just so sad, and brought up memories. They had found the hotel earlier, and decided to rest inside it. But yet, it still made her feel uncomfortable.
It just wasn't Mike, either.
Luca, she remembered him. He was at the golf course one day, with Darren. They talked a bit, but Lana had to go home since she had just been getting off work. And now he was gone too.
Lana placed her elbows on the table in front of her. She still didn't talk much. Anything she could say would make her feel depressed again, or worse. But all the things that had happened were boiling up inside her. If she didn't remember Davidge, she would remember Dave. If she didn't remember Dave, she would remember Venice. If she didn't remember Venice, she would remember Mike. If she didn't remember Mike, it went back to Dave.
The walls seemed to constrict herself further. But she didn't want to admit it, especially not to Stephanie or Ilya.
She wasn't sure if there was much a point to not playing anymore. Everyone knew what had happened between her and Venice, and as the days went on everyone fell. She was already tainted, and she didn't know a way out. Lana had always tried to push herself forward, to prove herself to everyone, but she was lost.
She still hated this room.
Lana dared not to make any requests to Ilya or Stephanie, though. She better not dare.
Midnight, The Stars and You
((Ilya Volkov continued from The Unlucky Clover Field))
Ilya remembered when Lana had first told him about her fascination with bats. He had caught a glimpse of her looking at one on the computer, an odd combination of bat and human. It was a more common phenomenon than he thought at first, with anthropomorphized versions of practically ever animal under the sun, except of course for the hideous ones like snails. Perhaps somebody had made a snail-man drawing somewhere and managed to make it look adorable. Then again, given the more eyebrow-raising content he'd seen in relation to the furries online, being cute and wholesome was not a guarantee.
Lana made it perfectly clear that she was not that sort of girl, though, and she showed him wholesome material only. It wasn't the upper echelon of high art, but it wasn't too bad, either. Ilya didn't regret the experience, and as thanks he paid for a commission on her birthday: a bear-man and a bat-woman sparring in wrestling club, clearly supposed to represent the two of them. It took him about twenty seconds to decide upon the obvious choice. Bears were the number one animal to represent Russians, after all. The more he thought about it, the more content he was with that decision. Maybe when he wrestled outside the school clubs, he could wear bear-themed gloves and pads.
Or he could spent his days paralyzed with fear at the prospect of being shot dead, an unbearable tension at the thought of an impending death that took its sweet time to get there. His gaze flickered toward Lana, and then to Stephanie, then Lana again. He could tell that Lana had been severely rattled by Venice's death, looking that the room was going to swallow her up if she blinked or moved or talked. Then again, perhaps that was just him. His expression of unease probably mirrored hers.
So what the fuck would they do now?
He got up from his chair and started walking to the door. "I have to go," he said. That sounded cold, callous, like he was on the verge of abandoning them. "Scout ahead. There could be someone coming, some help." Someone with a weapon that they could take... or get used on them. Fuck that.
This place was full of corridors and blind corners, and he liked to think he had a keen sense of hearing. He should be able to get the drop on just about anyone.
That is, assuming he was the only student with C4 around.
((Ilya Volkov continued in Hollow Stars))
Ilya remembered when Lana had first told him about her fascination with bats. He had caught a glimpse of her looking at one on the computer, an odd combination of bat and human. It was a more common phenomenon than he thought at first, with anthropomorphized versions of practically ever animal under the sun, except of course for the hideous ones like snails. Perhaps somebody had made a snail-man drawing somewhere and managed to make it look adorable. Then again, given the more eyebrow-raising content he'd seen in relation to the furries online, being cute and wholesome was not a guarantee.
Lana made it perfectly clear that she was not that sort of girl, though, and she showed him wholesome material only. It wasn't the upper echelon of high art, but it wasn't too bad, either. Ilya didn't regret the experience, and as thanks he paid for a commission on her birthday: a bear-man and a bat-woman sparring in wrestling club, clearly supposed to represent the two of them. It took him about twenty seconds to decide upon the obvious choice. Bears were the number one animal to represent Russians, after all. The more he thought about it, the more content he was with that decision. Maybe when he wrestled outside the school clubs, he could wear bear-themed gloves and pads.
Or he could spent his days paralyzed with fear at the prospect of being shot dead, an unbearable tension at the thought of an impending death that took its sweet time to get there. His gaze flickered toward Lana, and then to Stephanie, then Lana again. He could tell that Lana had been severely rattled by Venice's death, looking that the room was going to swallow her up if she blinked or moved or talked. Then again, perhaps that was just him. His expression of unease probably mirrored hers.
So what the fuck would they do now?
He got up from his chair and started walking to the door. "I have to go," he said. That sounded cold, callous, like he was on the verge of abandoning them. "Scout ahead. There could be someone coming, some help." Someone with a weapon that they could take... or get used on them. Fuck that.
This place was full of corridors and blind corners, and he liked to think he had a keen sense of hearing. He should be able to get the drop on just about anyone.
That is, assuming he was the only student with C4 around.
((Ilya Volkov continued in Hollow Stars))
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Solitair. 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.
((Stephanie Chan continued from The Unlucky Cloverfield))
The dawn of the third day came faster than Stephanie expected. She sat at the end of one of the couches in the lounge room, hugging her knees to herself and resting her head against them. She hadn't slept much since the previous day, the events on the golf course constantly running through her head. It had been an accident, she knew that, but she also knew that it was highly unlikely that the announcements would paint the death as an accident. Their entire goal was to create dissent among the students, something that they did all to well.
When they had heard the announcement earlier in the day before arriving at the hotel, her fears were confirmed. Hearing the crackle of the speakers, Stephanie raised her head, listening patiently to the announcement. As she had predicted, they had painted Venice's death as intentional. She wasn't surprised, but it also meant that everything Stephanie had been thinking over the night would potentially come into play.
Ilya said he was going to scout ahead for something, snapping her out of her thought. Stephanie simply nodded. She trusted him to keep safe. She almost considered offering the rifle to him as he left, but by the time she decided to he was already gone.
She stood up from the couch, stretching her legs out and groaning. Her legs were a bit stiff from sitting in one place too long. She picked up the rifle that lay next to her on the couch. It felt extremely heavy in her arms, but she managed to be able to handle it well enough. At least, unless she ever had to fire it. Then things might be different.
Her eyes moved towards Lana, sitting next to the window. She knew how much she must be going through at that moment, and Stephanie couldn't help but sigh. Lana was going to be a target now. If Stephanie was smart, she would leave now, and get as far away as possible from any threads. She wouldn't do that though, not to her best friend. Even if it ended poorly, Stephanie would stay with her friend, and do everything she could to make sure she was safe. That was the decision she had come to, and that was the decision she would stick to. For now she would allow Lana to come around in her own time.
The dawn of the third day came faster than Stephanie expected. She sat at the end of one of the couches in the lounge room, hugging her knees to herself and resting her head against them. She hadn't slept much since the previous day, the events on the golf course constantly running through her head. It had been an accident, she knew that, but she also knew that it was highly unlikely that the announcements would paint the death as an accident. Their entire goal was to create dissent among the students, something that they did all to well.
When they had heard the announcement earlier in the day before arriving at the hotel, her fears were confirmed. Hearing the crackle of the speakers, Stephanie raised her head, listening patiently to the announcement. As she had predicted, they had painted Venice's death as intentional. She wasn't surprised, but it also meant that everything Stephanie had been thinking over the night would potentially come into play.
Ilya said he was going to scout ahead for something, snapping her out of her thought. Stephanie simply nodded. She trusted him to keep safe. She almost considered offering the rifle to him as he left, but by the time she decided to he was already gone.
She stood up from the couch, stretching her legs out and groaning. Her legs were a bit stiff from sitting in one place too long. She picked up the rifle that lay next to her on the couch. It felt extremely heavy in her arms, but she managed to be able to handle it well enough. At least, unless she ever had to fire it. Then things might be different.
Her eyes moved towards Lana, sitting next to the window. She knew how much she must be going through at that moment, and Stephanie couldn't help but sigh. Lana was going to be a target now. If Stephanie was smart, she would leave now, and get as far away as possible from any threads. She wouldn't do that though, not to her best friend. Even if it ended poorly, Stephanie would stay with her friend, and do everything she could to make sure she was safe. That was the decision she had come to, and that was the decision she would stick to. For now she would allow Lana to come around in her own time.
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the former handler Rocky.
As Lana thought, Ilya stood up and said that he was going to look around the hotel for a bit. Lana looked at him with exhausted eyes, and nodded. She was sure he was going to be safe. Well, not "sure", but she felt she could let him go. So "safer"? Maybe. He did have C4 or something, if she remembered correctly.
After she left, she went back to her thoughts.
Stephanie had said nothing either. She had stood up and sighed, certainly, but nothing else.
She had no idea what had been going on inside Ilya and Stephanie's head since the field. They probably despised her, or pitied her. Pitying was somehow still worse for her. At least people were willing to admit she did something wrong when they despised her. But really, what was the point of not playing anymore? Really? Was there some sort of benefit?
Lana wasn't sure.
Standing up, she took a deep breath.
"Going outside for a breather", she said.
She needed some time out of this room. She still didn't like being in it, and how it tried to press thoughts into her brain.
Lana wandered outside the lounge, looking both ways. The exit was nearby, if she remembered correctly. Perhaps the hotel would have had some kind of garden, or a pool. It probably wouldn't look pretty, but at least it would be someplace else for her to rest. The hallway was dark and ominous, though not as constricting as the lounge. As for the hotel, it seemed very quiet, as if someone had sucked out its very being.
It didn't stay silent for too long, however. At first, Lana couldn't hear it that well, due to her hearing. But as the noises went on, she was able to pick out some of it. A bit of clattering around, from somewhere outside. No, not clattering, slamming noises, like someone was fighting. Or rather, two people. It was very loud, and very clear.
Lana paused, listening to the noises, and it ended with a gunshot, with a quick pause. Suddenly, noises started up again. There were voices, but she couldn't make out what they were saying. But she knew one thing; she shouldn't stick around.
She turned heel and felt herself sprinting across the hall, and swiftly opening the door to the lounge with a loud bang.
"Stephanie", she breathed. "We need to get out of here. Somethin's happenin', and I don't know if Ilya-"
A million things passed through her mind. What if it was Ilya somehow? What then?
"I don't think it's safe" she said rapidly, quickly moving across the room to grab her bag.
And once she was out of the lounge, she burst towards the way they had entered the hotel to begin with. She didn't want to figure out what that sound was.
((Lana Torres continued in Friends 'til the end))
After she left, she went back to her thoughts.
Stephanie had said nothing either. She had stood up and sighed, certainly, but nothing else.
She had no idea what had been going on inside Ilya and Stephanie's head since the field. They probably despised her, or pitied her. Pitying was somehow still worse for her. At least people were willing to admit she did something wrong when they despised her. But really, what was the point of not playing anymore? Really? Was there some sort of benefit?
Lana wasn't sure.
Standing up, she took a deep breath.
"Going outside for a breather", she said.
She needed some time out of this room. She still didn't like being in it, and how it tried to press thoughts into her brain.
Lana wandered outside the lounge, looking both ways. The exit was nearby, if she remembered correctly. Perhaps the hotel would have had some kind of garden, or a pool. It probably wouldn't look pretty, but at least it would be someplace else for her to rest. The hallway was dark and ominous, though not as constricting as the lounge. As for the hotel, it seemed very quiet, as if someone had sucked out its very being.
It didn't stay silent for too long, however. At first, Lana couldn't hear it that well, due to her hearing. But as the noises went on, she was able to pick out some of it. A bit of clattering around, from somewhere outside. No, not clattering, slamming noises, like someone was fighting. Or rather, two people. It was very loud, and very clear.
Lana paused, listening to the noises, and it ended with a gunshot, with a quick pause. Suddenly, noises started up again. There were voices, but she couldn't make out what they were saying. But she knew one thing; she shouldn't stick around.
She turned heel and felt herself sprinting across the hall, and swiftly opening the door to the lounge with a loud bang.
"Stephanie", she breathed. "We need to get out of here. Somethin's happenin', and I don't know if Ilya-"
A million things passed through her mind. What if it was Ilya somehow? What then?
"I don't think it's safe" she said rapidly, quickly moving across the room to grab her bag.
And once she was out of the lounge, she burst towards the way they had entered the hotel to begin with. She didn't want to figure out what that sound was.
((Lana Torres continued in Friends 'til the end))
Stephanie simply nodded as Lana mentioned going out for a moment, leaving her completely alone for the moment. She didn't get much time for thinking before she heard loud popping sounds from nearby. It took only a moment for Stephanie to figure out what it was, and a moment longer to assume the worst. Her eyes widened with fear as she thought about the potential of losing her companions, but she quickly shook out that thought and started to grab her stuff to go and see what happened.
Lana burst in just then, saying they had to leave. For a moment Stephanie thought about asking after Ilya, but decided that it would be better to not ask questions of her friend when she was in a frantic state like this. Slinging the rifle over her shoulder, she picked up her bag, following quickly behind her friend towards the exit. She felt bad for leaving the area without telling Ilya in any way, but she figured that he would understand.
Assuming he was still alive
((Stephanie Chan continued in Friends 'til the end))
Lana burst in just then, saying they had to leave. For a moment Stephanie thought about asking after Ilya, but decided that it would be better to not ask questions of her friend when she was in a frantic state like this. Slinging the rifle over her shoulder, she picked up her bag, following quickly behind her friend towards the exit. She felt bad for leaving the area without telling Ilya in any way, but she figured that he would understand.
Assuming he was still alive
((Stephanie Chan continued in Friends 'til the end))
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the former handler Rocky.