i see u

[Deamon]

The speakers crackled then burst into life with white noise as the announcement began. The voice of Danya came from within the confines of the menagerie, detailing the events of the day to the plants. A consummate showman he made jokes and toyed with his audience, making sure to add a dramatic flair to the proceedings. Then when he reached the end of his list of deaths from the previous day and finished detailing what had become a danger zone and who had won a prize, he signed out, another dash of static being thrown out as the speakers shut down again. As the echo subsided the menagerie settled back into its quiet state. The faint rustling of the leaves and ambient noises of the island returning and life continued.

Then came a scream. Raw and animalistic.

((Forrest Quin continued from there are bullets in your paintings, if you want them))

Pain. Sadness. Regret. Grief was her emotion. The ragged feeling. A hollow feeling. Her throat ached and tears fell.

Another scream tore loose. Lost. She felt lost. Failed. She had failed. Her one goal. He had been taken from her. She wept. No mind to her location. Mental collapse. A strong option. No one would care. She didn't care. All she felt was torment. Agony. She missed him. So much. More then he'd know. She missed him. Always had. Always would. She'd waited. And waited, hoping that maybe. Maybe someday she'd get him back. A mistake. Realized too late. Turned into a regret. Regret. It spiraled and spiraled. She felt lost.

She missed him. At that moment. More than ever. Weeping. It hurt. Her mistake. Once realized, impossible to fix. Harsher in the glow of morning. And he was gone. And then he was gone forever. Flame extinguished. He had been beautiful. Had been accepting. He saw her. He knew her. He accepted her. She was human with him. Tears continued. Impossible to stop. Her screams slowing. Fading. Lungs and chest hurting. Unable to give more.

It was pain. Loss. Pain. Agony. She missed him. No matter what he had. He had been there. She missed him. She hated him. Hated him for leaving. When she needed him most. Being strong. Tried that. It had worked. Until he had left. He was the thing. The light. The goal. The reason she tried. His face. The one she wanted to see. But she couldn't. Not anymore. He was gone. She missed him. She didn't matter. But she had to him. He was there. Had tried. Tried to make it. Happen. Even when she couldn't let it. When she was lost. He had stayed. He hadn't left. He had stayed. Even when it hurt him. And she saw it. But she didn't stop. Even when he missed her. She continued. But he was loyal. He cared. He cared more and more. More than anyone. He stayed. He was her friend. Never asking questions. Patient always. Loving her for who she was. Never tried to change her. She gave him nothing in return. And now she realised. It was too late. Tragedy. Classical sense. No more she could do. But she wanted so much to. So many words she had never said. That she wanted to. Now more than ever. Now he was gone. Regret. Real regret. Regret without a chance to fix. He was gone. Taken from her. It hurt so much. His loss. Her focus. Realization of her actions Of what she had done to him He'd never complained Stayed loyal Remained her friend Through everything She hadn't and didn't deserve him Not after how she treated him She had run without a care for him An apology she'd never be able to give It hurt so much It spiraled and spiraled Fragmented psyche Taking advantage Not considering his feelings she was a piece of shit a real piece of shit no one saw it not really because no one saw her not really they saw an image of a person an idea but he saw her he cared about her he cared for her as a person he was so special but he was gone and she was lost her body ached mentally and physically aching the loss weighing on her grief spiraling as she saw his face again and again and again knowing shed never see it again he was gone he had left he was in a better place she was without him she needed him she needed to see him she wanted to say so much she wanted to apologise to tell him it was her fault and that she was a piece of shit who hadnt thought about him and used him and it was a shitty thing to do because she was a shitty person and she was so sorry and it was her fault and was never his but she would never get that chance because he was gone and she missed him and she owed him so much and had never given any of it back because she was an awful terrible broken piece of shit and she missed him so much curling into a ball no escape from her thoughts focused on him

Andy

[Tonyksin]

Another long, sleepless night spent wandering around the island. Every step forward felt like trying to run at the bottom of a pool. Like her avatar was lagging in a video game. Heavy, uneven steps. Her eyes open by force of will alone. Her mind playing tricks on her. Seeing things in the dark of night that weren’t there. Eyes watching her through the trees. Every sound she heard amping up her anxiety and fear. The night seemed to go on forever. She hid in an empty house in the village for a few hours, sitting rigidly pressed back against a wall, trying to calm her breathing and gripping her gun so tightly her hands would cramp.

Sitting and trying to think clearly.

But she was so tired. It was so hard to think. It was so hard to remember things. For a moment, she forgot what she was doing. Forgot where she was. It took time for her to recall what had happened. What led her to the house. Who she’d seen. Declyn. She remembered Declyn. But why were they apart? And Dolly. Something about Dolly. And another name. Blaise. It was important she remembered them. They did something that made every hair on her body stand up straight whenever she thought of their name. But what was it?

She cried, because she couldn’t remember.


[Amelia Fischer Continued From The Tower]


Night eventually gave way to morning, and still, Amelia had not allowed herself to sleep even for a minute. She didn’t know why, but her brain was screaming to stay up. To stay alert. Sleep was too scary, especially when she was alone. Once the morning light came, she abandoned her hiding spot and continued her wandering. Her legs felt heavy still, but much less so than the night before. A small burst of energy seemed to be flowing through her body. It felt nice. Her mind was still a haze of questions and things she couldn’t remember, but that was okay. She just needed to keep moving.

She found a place to sit after a few hours, and opened her bag to find food. It tasted like cardboard, but it was still somehow more delicious than she could explain. The water too, tasted better than any water she’d even had in her life. It was so good, that without thinking she guzzled all that was left in the bottle. She put the empty bottle back in her bag, happy that she at least had two more bottles inside. There was a mark on the cap of one, and she remembered that Declyn marked it for a reason. That was enough for her to resist drinking it.

More walking. More being alone. She remembered loving being alone when she was home. Living in her own little world. Think about stars and aliens and avoiding reality. Now she’d have given anything to be surrounded by people. To feel like a spec in a crowd. To walk the noisy and busy halls of George Hunter High just one more time. Dolly… She felt so sad whenever she thought of her. Her head hurt trying to force out the reason.
A sound from above. Speakers blaring to life.

She listened to the voice. Listing off people who’d died, as if it meant nothing. She didn’t recognize many names. Liberty rang a bell. She had a class with her. She remembered because everyone called her Bert, and she thought it was a funny nickname. She liked her. It was sad. Then, a name was read out that shoved every memory she’d spent the night and morning trying to force out of her brain right to where they belonged.

Blaise.

Blaise killed Dolly. Blaise needed to pay. Dolly was dead. Dolly would never hold her hand to lead her through the halls again. They would never eat lunch together again. They would never laugh and smile and be happy… never ever. All because of Blaise. Blaise, who she had no idea who they were or what they looked like. Blaise, who she hated more than she ever hated anyone ever. The announcements continued to rattle off as she hyper-focused on Blaise, and they ended without her paying attention.

Then a wail of agony and pain broke her from her thoughts.

She rushed over to where she heard the sound, and found a girl with rainbow hair, as sad and broken looking as Amelia felt. As lost looking as Amelia felt. Amelia wanted to help her, but how? She looked so sad. It made Amelia sad. Her cries were punching Amelia in the gut. That’s how Dolly being gone made her feel. That’s how her insides felt. She had to do something.

“A-are you…” okay? Obviously not. What could she say to this person who was feeling like this?

“Do you want a hug?” It was all she could think. It was all she had to offer.

[Deamon]

Forrest heard the offer, she looked over at the girl with red eyes and wet cheeks.

She didn’t say anything.

She only gave a weak nod.

[Tonyksin]

That was all she needed. At least she could do this. They didn’t know each other. But that didn’t matter. Not out here. There was little warmth here. Little good. But at least, they could lean on one another in times like this. Amelia didn’t know what happened, or what this girl with the rainbow hair was going through. Likewise, the girl didn’t know what Amelia’s days had wrought. But here, in this moment, both girls needed each other. For something so simple, so normal.

Just a hug.

Amelia walked over to the girl and knelt beside her. She placed the gun on the ground next to her and reached out, pulling the girl into her embrace and cradling her head against her chest. She squeezed the girl tightly, and rocked her back and forth soothingly, rubbing her head like her grandma used to do whenever she was sad. Amelia’s own eyes began to cloud with tears as the two strangers held one another in the middle of all this death and sadness.

It felt good. Hugs were sometimes exactly what you needed, even if you didn’t know it.

[MethodicalSlacker]

Of all the things to walk in on, this morning,

[Violet Schmidt continued from Hoo-hooo's there?]

it had to be a hug.

Violet walked to get here. The journey wasn't important. She drifted on a sunbeam. She was blown around by gusts of wind. She floated down the river. She was here. Violet was here. Alive. Breathing. Hell on her heels. Here. Violet. Mindful. Aware. Awake. Ready for life.

And she was also not here. There were bits of her scattered on every tree and rock and blade of grass. But those bits were all dead, and she was not. She was alive. Violet felt like death. Her hair clung to her face in strands and to her shoulders in black gnarled locks. Dirt and dried blood dotted her forehead and stained her clothes. She was still holding the gun, but her hands felt weak. The crossbow was still in her bag. No more necklace. Swordbreaker through her belt.

She recognized Amelia. Amelia knew her. Amelia knew what she'd done. But Amelia was powerless, right now. Both of them were.

So, so, so, so, so so, so so so so, so, so, what was there to do?

Words to speak.

"Am I interrupting something," Violet said, question-less and hoarse. She wondered if this zoo had kept those.

[Polybius]

Well, he supposed he had been proven right. He was better off alone. Mackenzie was dead, as was Joanne, as were so many others. But Billy Trevino was still around. He was surviving.

He felt like shit.

((Billy Trevino continued from RICKETY_CARNIVAL))

As he listened to Danya rattle off the names of his former allies, Billy didn't know what to think. If they hadn't been split up, would Billy have died with them? Or would he have been able to help them fight back? He quickly dismissed the latter idea; he only had fucking pepper spray, what could that do against someone like Blaise who probably had like three gun by now? Yeah, the only reason he'd been able to survive this long was because his strategy of wandering by himself and avoiding people was clearly working out. For now, anyway.

He still felt like shit, though. Back at home he'd sometimes wonder what he would do if he was thrown into SOTF. He always thought he'd do whatever he could to escape or die trying. Resist until the end. Now, though? He was just sticking to the shadows letting it all happen. any hope of escape he may have had at the beginning seemed like a distant memory now. So what was his goal, even? What the fuck was Billy doing with himself?

The scream broke him out of his self-flagellation. Before he knew it, Billy was running to the sound. The smart move on Murder Island was always to run away from the screams, but Billy was sick of being smart. he was pissed. At himself, at the terrorists, at Quinn and Blaise and all those other fuckos.

As he broke out of the forest he realized he'd gone full circle. He was back where it all began, the Menagerie. Oh yeah, he'd never figured out what kind of weird fucking island this was, had he? The scream was coming from the main building, so Billy went towards that. He was perfectly fine with avoiding the giant birdcage where he'd woken up. Too many regrets.

He didn't expect to walk in on two girls sobbing in each other's arms. Forrest and one of the witch girls... Amelia, he guessed? It was a sad scene. Billy might have gone over and tried to comfort them, maybe. If not for the third girl watching them.

Violet. She'd been a friend, once. A cool girl with good taste in music and games. And a serious belief in magic, which was weird, but kind of in a fun way. Now she was the girl who'd abandoned their group with Kyle, only to then murder him and another girl and get rewarded for it. She was holding a rifle- fuck, if only he could have seen the future and taken that from her when she was out bleeding for her head. She could very easily shoot the two girls without consequence- there was a gun on the ground right next to Amelia but she seemed to busy hugging to use it. She could very easily shoot Billy. The smart thing to do would be to leave and let them sort it all out by themselves. Violet didn't look like she was being aggressive, the girls might be fine. What reason did he have to hate Violet, anyway? Because she killed Kyle? Kyle, who had abandoned them with her?

But Billy was tired of running . And he was pissed. And somehow, at this moment, Billy decided he'd rather risk being shot than meekly run away.

Billy held onto his pepper spray, holding it behind his back. He crept closer to Violet. Hopefully she was distracted by the hugging, and Billy would get close by the time she noticed. At close range, it would be hard for her to aim with the big gun, and Billy might be able to mace her before she could get a shot off. He wasn't going to flat out attack her; honestly, he didn't know what he would do. But if it came to it, he'd be prepared to fight.

[Deamon]

The arms embraced her and Forrest accepted it, hoping that it would help. She wanted it to. She really wanted it to. She wanted whoever the girl was to take her and tell it was all alright, that Andy was in a better place, that she would get to see him again. It was a dream. A dream she desperately wanted to turn into a reality. If she only could. But none of that happened, because of course, it didn't. Instead, while Forrest embraced the girl back and wished she was someone else. She still found some solace in it. It felt like so long since someone had been kind to her or really cared about her. Someone not named Andy or Abe at least. Andy had always cared. None of her friends had ever given her that much thought, but her she was. In the arms of a stranger who had never met her but had decided to give her a hug because she knew she needed help. There was a comfort in that, and Forrest squeezed in tighter.

And then it all came crashing back down. Violet, with two kills to her name appeared. Asked if she was interrupting something because killing two people wasn't enough she had to kill moments too. Gently Forrest removed herself from mystery girls' arms. Her attention falling onto the new arrival and the arrival behind her. There was an urge to tell her, to acknowledge the boy who was creeping up on her. But Forrest didn't. She didn't know why exactly. Maybe it was because Violet had killed people, maybe it was just that she didn't care anymore, maybe it was just that she was a piece of shit.

Instead, Forrest kept her attention on Violet and slowly shook her head.

"No...you're not."

Whatever happened next would just happen.

[Tonyksin]

Amelia had always liked hugs. To have someone’s arms wrapped around her made her feel safe. Made her sigh with contentment. The best hugs were tight and long. Like if you let go the other person would disappear. The hugs her grandma gave her were the best of the best. She always smelled like lavender. Amelia longed for that smell. If made her feel like nothing in the whole world could hurt her. Wrapped in a tight, warm embrace, the smell of lavender drowning her senses… that was Amelia’s favorite thing.

This hug was different.

It was still tight, as the two girls clung to each other. But the tightness was different. It was desperate, scared, and full of sadness. There was no lavender scent overcoming her senses. The only smell was of dirt and sweat. It wasn’t comforting. Instead it felt hopeless. As if this was the last humanity she would ever feel. The last shred of good in a world that had been turned dark and hostile. A world where she now carried a gun and refused sleep. Where every person could be an enemy. Where her friends died. Where she felt lost and alone. Hugging this girl felt like if she let go everything would vanish. All her happiness. All her innocence. All her goodness and kindness would fall away if she didn’t stay in this embrace forever.

It scared her to let go of it all.

But, of course, she couldn’t stay there forever. A voice ripped them apart, and Amelia felt her heart yearn for more human contact. But now wasn’t the time. The embrace fell away, and Amelia turned to look at the new arrival. Her eyes widened in recognition, and her bottom lip trembled. It was Violet! Violet, who she and Dolly had cast spells with in the park. It felt like so long ago. Dolly was… she was gone, but Violet was still alive. It made her happy at first, but then also frightened. Violet looked different. She looked… Amelia wasn’t sure, but she knew it was wrong. There was no kindness in her eyes. Not like before. Amelia grabbed her gun from the ground, but pointed it at no one.

“Violet…?” She asked, but she knew who she was. Her face was stained red, and it sent a shiver through Amelia’s spine. But this was still Violet. Her friend, Violet. Right?

“Are you okay…? Vi-” She cut herself off, because another person arrived, slowly stalking up behind Violet. Her friend. One of the few she had left. She raised her gun up and shouted out to her friend.

“There’s someone behind you!” her voice shook, and her arm holding the gun trembled even more. She didn’t want to. Not again. She didn’t want to shoot anyone. She just wanted to be good. She didn’t like this. No, no, no, no.

She just wanted to go home and smell lavender again.

[MethodicalSlacker]

Violet nodded. Nothing was happening, then. If something was happening, then Violet would be interrupting it. She wasn't interrupting anything, so nothing was happening. This was just enough logic for her to prove to herself that she was on some level still sane. The loops were still intact. The circuitry still wired correctly. Non-Local Quantum Circuitry, as Robert Anton Wilson named it. That was her current level. Here and not here. Seen and not seen. Interrupting and not interrupting. Happening and not happening. It came as no surprise when Amelia lifted her own head and, after inquiring briefly on the state of Violet's health, started shrieking about an ambush. Violet was always being ambushed, and she was always not being ambushed.

She turned around. Antecedent. Billy Trevino. No antecedent. His existence was concrete. Unawakened. Fixed in time and space and thought. Violet saw all of him, but was most concerned as she looked down by the pepper spray in his hand. Not that it was all too concerning. She was pretty far away, and he'd have to not only aim it upwards, but raise his arm at least a little bit in order to get it in her face. Violet had trouble telling how tall she was. By all sensory accounts, she was floating above her own body at this point. Seventh, maybe eighth chakra.

After Michael left, yesterday, and after Violet picked up and set out, she found her way into a clearing in the woods and got to work reconnecting herself with the world of the metaphysical. The energy she felt from Michael ruined her working theory that, in damning herself, she had cut herself off from the occult. The opposite had happened, she found as she did cursory readings of her own vibrational field. Rather, she had become permanently aligned with a different sphere than the one she had previously been operating in. Violet was now a ward of the left hand path, and that was perfectly fine. It made her feel relieved, actually, to know that she had not been completely abandoned. To be certain, she still feared death. Demons were known to be treacherous. Working closely with them in her waking life did not exactly mean a cushier existence in hell. Actually, it was more likely that it meant worse torment awaited her. The closer she worked with demonic energy, the more likely Violet was to step on some toes. For that reason, Lilith was off the table. Despite being potentially Violet's greatest ally, she was also absolutely Violet's worst possible enemy to have right now.

Come to think of it, Amelia had been there when Violet mucked up the banishing ritual.

It clicked. Amelia and Violet were deeply intertwined. And if the pattern held with Dolly, then Violet had invited death upon Amelia by appearing here.

Violet blinked, and it was gone. Billy remained, pepper spray in hand.

She wanted to tell him to put it down. Put it away. Turn around, walk out the door, save himself from any further harm. Sequester himself in a hole, fall asleep, hope the danger zone took him out when he was out. That was the best fate someone like him could hope for. Anyone without kills at this stage who wasn't actively trying to get them only had a day or so left to live anyway. Shoo. Scram. Stop breathing, it'll be easier that way.

"Hey, Billy," Violet said, looking him in the eyes.

She stood perfectly still.

[Polybius]

Fucking Amelia. Billy knew that she and violet were witch friends and all, but did she really need to blow up his spot? He wasn't the one with two fucking kills to his name.

Now, he was fucked. Whatever he'd wanted to do, he couldn't do shit now. He wasn't close enough to do anything to Violet. He now had two guns raised against him; even if he rushed Violet and somehow avoided getting shot by her, Amelia would fill him with lead. Really, he was at their complete mercy now. If only he could turn back time twenty seconds and just walk away like he should have. Let Amelia deal with Violet if she liked her so much.

If only. He was trapped. Violet was looking him in the eyes. He looked back. She looked like her mind was far away, dead on her feet.

"Hey, Violet."

Billy really should've been thinking only about self-preservation at that moment. He could've started begging for his life. But the way she looked at him without emotion and addressed him so causally, after everything... well, he was already in a bad mood. And that didn't help.

"You've been pretty busy, eh? Congrats on winning best kill. Kyle would've been proud."

[Deamon]

It turned out that what was going to happen was mystery girl alerting Violet with two kills of the intruder creeping up behind her. Although Forrest supposed intruder was the wrong word as Violet herself was also intruding. Did it matter? Probably not, but she felt like it did. A gun had been raised and Forrest slid away, her one good arm helping as she dragged herself back and away, assuming prime spectator position. She held no connection to any of the three. They were all classmates sure, but she didn't truly know any of them. The one she cared about most was mystery girl but she still didn't even know her name.

A stand-off had developed. Punctuated by bitter words. A story that she didn't know all the details of. She was a bit part, an extra in whatever tale was being told at that moment. That didn't mean she was going to leave. Her eyes ached and so did her throat but she remained to observe the three. Rooting for none. The boy caught in a two on one. Needing assistance if he wanted to achieve anything, but she wasn't going to give it to him. It wasn't her scene. She wasn't going to offer help for a rando. She had people she wanted to see, people she needed to see.

None of them were these three. So she watched and waited to see what happened.

[Tonyksin]

Amelia let her arm fall to her side slowly. Violet was talking to the boy. She must have known him. They didn’t seem angry, even if the boy did look a bit scary. Violet didn’t look scared, so Amelia didn’t need to point the gun, right? That’s what that meant. It meant she wouldn’t have to pull the trigger again. She wouldn’t have to hear that scary sound. Amelia felt herself breath again. She was holding her breath before, out of fear. But there was no need to be scared, right? She was okay. Violet was okay. The girl she was hugging was okay. This boy was okay.

Everything would be just fine.

Amelia turned her head to see that the girl with the cast had moved a bit away from her. She felt puzzled. She looked back at the two facing each other. Was she wrong? Was this bad? Was Violet in danger?

…

She didn’t know.

So she sat with her gun down and watched.

[MethodicalSlacker]

Violet was not surprised that Billy would bring that up. She was more surprised that he hadn't gone ahead and tried to mace her first, personally.

She had no time to think before her next words spilled out of her mouth.

"I think, given what I know and you don't about why I had to kill him, he's probably pretty happy that I'm still alive, to be perfectly honest."

And, even more surprisingly—today's theme had to be surprises, of course—Violet didn't regret what she said. The last time she came out of the gate with what she had done, it didn't go over well. She sounded like she was in denial, like she knew deep down that what she did was wrong. Maybe at one point she thought that it was wrong, but she was different now. A lot had happened in the past day or so. Violet had come to terms, in a sense, with what had caused her so much distress. Thinking about the path she had been forced onto a couple days ago would make her want to throw up. She did throw up, actually.

But there was no reason to waste feeling here. It was better reserved for when she needed to expend it—when she needed to perform rituals. Letting emotion take control was how she made it so the demons didn't take control, which wasn't what she wanted anymore. It all made perfect sense. Everything about it was internally logical. A coincidance of coincidence had lead her by the hand from one sin to another until she crossed an event horizon that meant that the time allotted on the island would not be enough to reverse the karmic weight of her actions thus dooming her to the deepest hell upon death thus escape from the island by any means necessary became her choice of action thus it was permissible to do worse and worse things thus she would get in touch with the left hand path thus she needed demonic energy thus she needed to react to everything a little more calmly. Perfect synchronicity-sense.

So if Billy wanted to ask more, then he could. If not, then she was perfectly fine with letting things rest at that.

Perfectly.

Fine.

[Polybius]

Billy's eyes flicked from Violet to Amelia to Forrest and back to Violet. No matter what way he looked at it, he was at their mercy. Try to run, and Violet might shoot him. Mace Violet and try to take the gun, and Amelia would shoot him. His entire life rested in the hands of some weird girls who thought they could do magic. Goddammit. He wished Forrest would try to help him, but really, why would she? She was actually being smart, unlike Billy.

"You 'had to", huh?"

She was full of shit.

"I'd love to hear all about how you 'had to' kill two people, but, uh, all the guns around are making it hard to focus."

He swallowed. He knew he had to calm down if he didn't want to get a bullet between the eyes. It was difficult in the moment with, well, everything. But as much as he wanted to keep calling Violet out, the little part of his brain that was actually working right kept getting louder and louder. He'd screwed up. He had to get out of it.

"How- how about we- look, it's best for all of us if I just go away, yeah?"

He took two steps back, not taking his eyes away from the girls. His hand was still firmly gripped on the pepper spray can, which he held at his side.

"So how about it?"

[decoy73]

((Christina Rennes continued from The Tower))

Damn it. Christina wiped her eyes again. She was actually sad. And the most fucked up thing was that she saw it coming with the subtlety of an brick to the face, and it did nothing to blunt the edge.

Jessica had died. Suicide by diving off a cliff. She was naive, girly, and so annoyingly peppy, but Jessica was still her sister, and, well ... Christina was going to miss her.

But no time for that. She had to push on. Better to return an only child than in a body bag, or not at all. When she went home, then she could focus on the big picture. Of course, she'd be doing a better job of it if she actually kept her head up.