((In retrospect, Roxanne’s life had been going downhill ever since she left the peak of the temple, that first day.))
There had been nothing interesting about the descent - her only reward for safely reaching the ground was unbroken legs and eleven more days of life, and the rest of the island would prove again and again to hold nothing meaningful, nothing that compared to those blissful minutes of freedom.
If a sniper’s bullet had caught her between her closed eyes as she stood there, arms outstretched in the wind, in the happiest moment of her life, maybe it would have been better for everyone. A clean resolution with no tedious navel-gazing or fence-sitting.
Really, for someone who claimed she did not want to die, Roxanne was spending more and more time dreaming of the satisfying deaths that had passed her by, with barely a thought for any beautiful futures ahead, fighting a losing battle against herself.
Returning to the temple heights had been nothing more than a transparent attempt at recapturing past glories, with a predictably muted outcome. Sleeping closer to the stars didn’t bring her any more peace than the waves crashing against the cliffside had offered.
The only saving grace had been the only difference - Kelly, next to her, humoring her pretension. Even if the second climb had been self-indulgently hollow, it at least wasn’t pathetic, alongside another person who might be able to get it, though it was impossible as ever to really guess what Kelly was thinking. She was still sticking around. That was a sign of something, at least.
The morning announcement brought few surprises, as they woke below heaven. Marceline had killed again - Nick hadn’t been able to escape her ‘justice’ in the end. Roxanne couldn’t help but wonder, if she hadn’t played peacekeeper in their first meeting, how many of the four at the scene would have died then and there.
To no one’s surprise, Blaise had killed two more people after they’d slipped away. Two lives Roxanne might have saved with a simple pull of the trigger - but they were lives she didn’t know, safely in the realm of statistics. So many people had had so many chances to stop Blaise - she couldn’t be blamed for letting one more shot slip away, really.
After a second descent, even more pointless than the first, Roxanne and Kelly made their way to the gardens. Roxanne had vaguely wanted to see the flowers, and basing her life choices around simple, almost child-like wants was one of the only things that had actually brought her any joy on the island, and so they had traveled. Their destinations were limited, regardless - the world growing smaller around them.
“It’s so overgrown,” Roxanne said as they came into full view, almost like a disappointed tourist. “Not sure what I expected. It’s kinda pretty, in its own way.”
Beyond Human (Barely Human)
Day 12. Private. You know why.
((Kelly Nguyen continued from fruit of a poisonous tree))
"Movie like, yeah." Kelly carefully stepped over patchwork ceramic that might have once been most of a clay pot, tall enough for a fern of some middling description. "Like something dramatic is supposed to happen here."
She wondered if Roxy still imagined that drama might be happening, someday. If her empty shell of a body walked far enough, kept the worst of the island's overgrowth from creeping over her inert skin like it did the walls of the nearby mansion.
Kelly had the room for such thoughts, anyways. Her still stubbornly fresh trickle of an arm was easy to ignore. The tenderness of the soles of her feet, beaten in by a seemingly endless hike, it was also an oddity in the garden of her mind, a place within far more organized than the jungles without- the creep of nature reclaiming civilization, of trying and failing to reclaim her, for each new used shirt she warded it off with. There was, still, a lot to think about. If Kelly for a moment stopped the churn of her mind she might have rusted over and stopped, and fallen to the earth and shattered into a million pieces when the brittle exterior caved into the hollow, blood-dry center. Each step Kelly took was meditation.
Even on Roxy's own throwaway life. Such it was that Kelly had to wonder if she might have enjoyed Roxy more when she'd still had some vision of her own future. Aimless wandering was okay, but Kelly rather thought she'd preferred the Roxy who'd believed in princesses and dragons.
The den breathed around them, loud as Kelly's breathing gently pulsing into her own skull each time it bounced off the bloody innards of her mask.
"They're going to pin us down sooner or later. The way they keep shrinking the island. Then it'll be Erika, or Blaise, or someone, bursting around the next corner." Kelly considered an overturned chair, it's facade slowly splintering apart as lichens began to deepen their foundations. Kelly never took her hands off her gun. The weight had long since become familiar, and Kelly was pleasantly sure that she'd have quite the tricep if she had any protein left in her nonexistent diet.
"Shooting first would be an annoyingly dull move," Kelly sighed, preparing herself to be disappointed. "Honestly, how many of them have anything good left to say, even."
"Movie like, yeah." Kelly carefully stepped over patchwork ceramic that might have once been most of a clay pot, tall enough for a fern of some middling description. "Like something dramatic is supposed to happen here."
She wondered if Roxy still imagined that drama might be happening, someday. If her empty shell of a body walked far enough, kept the worst of the island's overgrowth from creeping over her inert skin like it did the walls of the nearby mansion.
Kelly had the room for such thoughts, anyways. Her still stubbornly fresh trickle of an arm was easy to ignore. The tenderness of the soles of her feet, beaten in by a seemingly endless hike, it was also an oddity in the garden of her mind, a place within far more organized than the jungles without- the creep of nature reclaiming civilization, of trying and failing to reclaim her, for each new used shirt she warded it off with. There was, still, a lot to think about. If Kelly for a moment stopped the churn of her mind she might have rusted over and stopped, and fallen to the earth and shattered into a million pieces when the brittle exterior caved into the hollow, blood-dry center. Each step Kelly took was meditation.
Even on Roxy's own throwaway life. Such it was that Kelly had to wonder if she might have enjoyed Roxy more when she'd still had some vision of her own future. Aimless wandering was okay, but Kelly rather thought she'd preferred the Roxy who'd believed in princesses and dragons.
The den breathed around them, loud as Kelly's breathing gently pulsing into her own skull each time it bounced off the bloody innards of her mask.
"They're going to pin us down sooner or later. The way they keep shrinking the island. Then it'll be Erika, or Blaise, or someone, bursting around the next corner." Kelly considered an overturned chair, it's facade slowly splintering apart as lichens began to deepen their foundations. Kelly never took her hands off her gun. The weight had long since become familiar, and Kelly was pleasantly sure that she'd have quite the tricep if she had any protein left in her nonexistent diet.
"Shooting first would be an annoyingly dull move," Kelly sighed, preparing herself to be disappointed. "Honestly, how many of them have anything good left to say, even."
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VoltTurtle
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"No sudden movements," Marceline shouted from behind the two girls, her voice harsh.
((Marceline Carlson continued from life's alright in devil town))
She stood a fair distance away from them, holding the shotgun aloft, its barrel pointed directly at Kelly's back, barely containing her urge to pull the trigger. After she had left the manor, she had carefully maneuvered around the overgrown gardens in such a way as to avoid being seen. She had taken a risk by coming down here at all, but she wasn't about to take an even greater risk by giving up the element of surprise. She needed that leverage if she wanted to maintain control of this situation she had put herself in. No matter if it ended peacefully or with two more broken bodies added to the pile, she was going to survive this encounter. She had a promise to keep.
Though, the only reason that she wanted this to remain peaceful was because of Roxanne's presence. She hadn't been able to actually bring herself to harm Roxanne before—her closest approach being almost shooting Roxanne on impulse as the other girl egged her on—and she had no intention of killing another friend after what happened with Amelia. If it weren't for that, Marceline would have shot Kelly in a rage the moment she saw the girl. As it stood, the only reason she was continuing to hold herself back was not for fear of angering Roxanne with Kelly's demise, but rather for fear of a panicked counterattack and the ensuing shootout.
So Kelly would continue to draw breath, for Roxanne's sake. Not forever, but for a time.
Though, Marceline couldn't help but wonder, of all people for Roxanne to have replaced her with as a traveling companion, why choose Kelly? Perhaps she was being presumptive, she didn't know the extent of their relationship, but Marceline had seen the duo approach the gardens together, so that suggested that they were at least tenuously allied, and that didn't make sense to her. The only point of commonality that she could see between them was that they had both been wronged by her, and that would serve as a weak foundation for a relationship at the best of times, let alone with a deceitful narcissist such as Kelly.
Whatever, it didn't matter. She came here to talk to her friend, catch up on everything that happened. Roxanne looked much the same as when they had last seen each other, in sharp contrast to Marceline's own drastic change in appearance and demeanor. That told a silent story to her, all on its own. Their two paths had run parallel to one another for so long, only to diverge. Her path had been walked with fire and blood, while Roxanne's had seemingly carried on as if nothing had changed. Now their paths crossed once again, possibly for the last time.
She didn't know what she wanted to say to her former friend, now that she was here. She hadn't really come down to the gardens with a solid plan in mind. She just knew she had to say something.
"Roxy," she continued, her voice softening somewhat from its previously sharp tone. "Good to see you again."
((Marceline Carlson continued from life's alright in devil town))
She stood a fair distance away from them, holding the shotgun aloft, its barrel pointed directly at Kelly's back, barely containing her urge to pull the trigger. After she had left the manor, she had carefully maneuvered around the overgrown gardens in such a way as to avoid being seen. She had taken a risk by coming down here at all, but she wasn't about to take an even greater risk by giving up the element of surprise. She needed that leverage if she wanted to maintain control of this situation she had put herself in. No matter if it ended peacefully or with two more broken bodies added to the pile, she was going to survive this encounter. She had a promise to keep.
Though, the only reason that she wanted this to remain peaceful was because of Roxanne's presence. She hadn't been able to actually bring herself to harm Roxanne before—her closest approach being almost shooting Roxanne on impulse as the other girl egged her on—and she had no intention of killing another friend after what happened with Amelia. If it weren't for that, Marceline would have shot Kelly in a rage the moment she saw the girl. As it stood, the only reason she was continuing to hold herself back was not for fear of angering Roxanne with Kelly's demise, but rather for fear of a panicked counterattack and the ensuing shootout.
So Kelly would continue to draw breath, for Roxanne's sake. Not forever, but for a time.
Though, Marceline couldn't help but wonder, of all people for Roxanne to have replaced her with as a traveling companion, why choose Kelly? Perhaps she was being presumptive, she didn't know the extent of their relationship, but Marceline had seen the duo approach the gardens together, so that suggested that they were at least tenuously allied, and that didn't make sense to her. The only point of commonality that she could see between them was that they had both been wronged by her, and that would serve as a weak foundation for a relationship at the best of times, let alone with a deceitful narcissist such as Kelly.
Whatever, it didn't matter. She came here to talk to her friend, catch up on everything that happened. Roxanne looked much the same as when they had last seen each other, in sharp contrast to Marceline's own drastic change in appearance and demeanor. That told a silent story to her, all on its own. Their two paths had run parallel to one another for so long, only to diverge. Her path had been walked with fire and blood, while Roxanne's had seemingly carried on as if nothing had changed. Now their paths crossed once again, possibly for the last time.
She didn't know what she wanted to say to her former friend, now that she was here. She hadn't really come down to the gardens with a solid plan in mind. She just knew she had to say something.
"Roxy," she continued, her voice softening somewhat from its previously sharp tone. "Good to see you again."
Inexorable fate apparently had a sense of humor. Roxanne would have chided Kelly for tempting it, but if it was by definition going to happen, might as well invite it somewhere suitably scenic.
A sudden eruption of gunfire would have been an anticlimax, so Roxanne was mildly impressed by Marceline’s restraint. She wasn’t afraid for her own life, but it’d be upsetting to see Kelly’s brains mixing into the damp soil. Hard to spin a bright side out of being held at gunpoint, but at least it was by someone who liked to monologue. That gave them time to do… something, or at least make peace with inevitability.
Marceline seemed, bafflingly enough, genuinely glad to see her. Roxanne hoped this wasn’t some sad attempt to make amends, because it was off to an awful start and she wasn’t in a particularly forgiving mood.
“Why? I thought you were trying to win, weren’t you?” She said, habitually playing with fire, even if her former friend barely rated as a dragon. “From what I’ve been hearing, you’ve been doing a great job at it, too. Isn’t it obvious what you should be doing with us?”
It was maybe ironic - Roxanne’s presence, folding them into an ‘us’, was probably the only thing stopping Marceline from simply shooting Kelly, but there she was anyways, goading her into a double homicide. Kelly’s death wasn’t hers to invite, but - and maybe this was just arrogance of the most mythic degree - Roxanne didn’t think anyone who was recognizably Marceline would bite at the bait. She couldn’t be that far gone after only two days, two murders, could she?
“So how’s this gonna go? You going to shoot us if we turn around?” The shotgun was heavy as ever in her hands. She didn’t think it would help her, here.
A sudden eruption of gunfire would have been an anticlimax, so Roxanne was mildly impressed by Marceline’s restraint. She wasn’t afraid for her own life, but it’d be upsetting to see Kelly’s brains mixing into the damp soil. Hard to spin a bright side out of being held at gunpoint, but at least it was by someone who liked to monologue. That gave them time to do… something, or at least make peace with inevitability.
Marceline seemed, bafflingly enough, genuinely glad to see her. Roxanne hoped this wasn’t some sad attempt to make amends, because it was off to an awful start and she wasn’t in a particularly forgiving mood.
“Why? I thought you were trying to win, weren’t you?” She said, habitually playing with fire, even if her former friend barely rated as a dragon. “From what I’ve been hearing, you’ve been doing a great job at it, too. Isn’t it obvious what you should be doing with us?”
It was maybe ironic - Roxanne’s presence, folding them into an ‘us’, was probably the only thing stopping Marceline from simply shooting Kelly, but there she was anyways, goading her into a double homicide. Kelly’s death wasn’t hers to invite, but - and maybe this was just arrogance of the most mythic degree - Roxanne didn’t think anyone who was recognizably Marceline would bite at the bait. She couldn’t be that far gone after only two days, two murders, could she?
“So how’s this gonna go? You going to shoot us if we turn around?” The shotgun was heavy as ever in her hands. She didn’t think it would help her, here.
Not surprising. Kelly's sense of awareness lacked modesty, propriety, or anything else that could possibly have been interpreted as being gun-shy. The grip on the handle of the shotgun remained strong and sure as ever as she turned around. Kelly betrayed no outward sign of uncertainty, as if she'd intended to summon Marceline with her taunting of the Fates she tried to defy, her sensibilities evolved beyong all the likely tacky fit they tried to weave.
Kelly's greeting was silent as Roxy's was loud. The only body language Kelly permitted aloud was that of her weapon.
It kissed the ground by the firm lips of its barrel, softly. Kelly's fingers relaxed, and the gun anticlimactically clattered to earth beside her.
She wondered a lot of things, as her eyes tracked the subtle shadow of the rising sun, hers vanishing into the surrounding treeline while Roxy and Marceline remained distinct. She wondered if Marceline understood Kelly's one arm could be as dangerous as any healthy two. Knowledge produced will. Will produced power. She wondered, then, if Roxy understood that. There was a bite to poor Princess Roxy's words, as droll and lifeless as there ever was any sort of character to her speechcraft. Even in milquetoast defiance she couldn't be particularly lifelike.
Yet, this moment more than any other so far Kelly indulged in any actual respect for the girl.
Kelly breathed her own air, with a slow rise and fall of her chest, daring the pink-haired banshee without a spoken word, to see what would happen if she tried, yet again, to make Kelly bleed. A lot of people so far had tried, and as many people had failed. But Roxy had claimed the moment, and Kelly would respect that. It was a flashpoint, a time for change, as quick as such a thing could be ignited when it was gunpowder shared between classmates.
Kelly's greeting was silent as Roxy's was loud. The only body language Kelly permitted aloud was that of her weapon.
It kissed the ground by the firm lips of its barrel, softly. Kelly's fingers relaxed, and the gun anticlimactically clattered to earth beside her.
She wondered a lot of things, as her eyes tracked the subtle shadow of the rising sun, hers vanishing into the surrounding treeline while Roxy and Marceline remained distinct. She wondered if Marceline understood Kelly's one arm could be as dangerous as any healthy two. Knowledge produced will. Will produced power. She wondered, then, if Roxy understood that. There was a bite to poor Princess Roxy's words, as droll and lifeless as there ever was any sort of character to her speechcraft. Even in milquetoast defiance she couldn't be particularly lifelike.
Yet, this moment more than any other so far Kelly indulged in any actual respect for the girl.
Kelly breathed her own air, with a slow rise and fall of her chest, daring the pink-haired banshee without a spoken word, to see what would happen if she tried, yet again, to make Kelly bleed. A lot of people so far had tried, and as many people had failed. But Roxy had claimed the moment, and Kelly would respect that. It was a flashpoint, a time for change, as quick as such a thing could be ignited when it was gunpowder shared between classmates.
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VoltTurtle
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In the moments that followed her initial order, the sound of Marceline's heart hammered in her ears as her hands clutched the shotgun ever more tightly. She quickly took note of her surroundings, mainly focusing on potential cover. There were plenty of large, ceramic plant pots scattered around them holding clearly overgrown plants, one of which was just a few feet away from where she was currently standing. Kelly was similarly a second or two away from a nearby tree that could presumably be used as decent cover, but Roxanne was for the most part exposed, with nothing immediately around her but devil's ivy and overgrown grass.
Understanding her surroundings in case a gunfight broke out was incredibly important for Marceline's continued survival. Diego had not followed her out of the manor, something that she couldn't exactly fault him for, which meant it was two against one if the both of them decided to respond to her implicit threat of force with violence. She hadn't originally planned for violence to occur when she came down, but that was before she knew that Kelly of all people was at Roxanne's side. If she had known that in advance, she might not have bothered to come down at all.
Except she was here, now, regardless of how stupid the decision was in hindsight. That meant she had to make something of it.
Marceline glared at Kelly without saying a word for several seconds after the shotgun that the other girl was holding hit the ground. She was just about to follow up on her first order by telling them to do exactly that, both to make sure that she maintained control of the current situation and so they couldn't respond with undue force, but she supposed Kelly's bizarre act of defiance at least saved her some effort, in that regard.
"Now you do that too, Roxy. Then you both back away from the guns."
The girls followed suit, presumably out of a lack of other options. Roxanne's shotgun thumped fairly unceremoniously against the soft ground, both weapons now obscured by the tall grass. Shortly thereafter, both of them walked a few feet away from where the guns now rested, Marceline keeping the shotgun trained firmly on Kelly all the while. Now that the guns were out of play, she allowed herself to take a deep breath, her heartbeat slowing back down to normal, and her vice-like grip on the shotgun relaxing.
Without saying another word, she pulled the trigger.
The deafening roar of the weapon being fired was followed quickly by the distinctive, ear-piercing ringing that she had grown accustomed to. She had seen a burst of red come from Kelly's direction, but despite her best efforts, Kelly did not crumple to the ground like Nick had. In the panic that ensued in the immediate aftermath of the first shot being fired, Kelly ended up diving behind the nearby tree and hiding herself from view. Marceline hadn't been able to see exactly where she had actually hit the other girl, but she knew that it definitely hadn't been where she had been aiming. She was still satisfied having made Kelly bleed at least, but she would have preferred for the other girl to be dead or at least out of the way.
She must have overcompensated for the gun's recoil, which served her right for not taking the time to practice firing it. The important part hadn't been to actually kill Kelly, though. Rather, the blast had been about sending a message, and Marceline believed that it had served that purpose well. She hoped that her casual disregard for Kelly's life got her answers to Roxanne's questions across, loud and clear, in a way that words never could.
Unlike Kelly, Roxanne hadn't moved from her spot even after the sound of the blast reverberated around the area, remaining as stoic and surprisingly confident as ever. Perhaps even now she knew that Marceline would be unwilling to shoot her, especially when she was unarmed, and she was right to believe that. Marceline had already killed one of her only friends, and she had no intention of adding Roxanne to her own personal body pile. She knew that Roxanne would need to die at some point if she were to win, and she knew that not doing it herself just meant someone else doing it in her stead, but the experience of killing Amelia had been enough. So long as she had any other option at her disposal, she wouldn't be murdering her last remaining friend.
When the thin trail of smoke exiting the end of the shotgun and the ringing in her ears began to clear, Marceline finally lowered the shotgun, keeping it ready, but not directly pointed at either Roxanne or the now-hiding Kelly. When she began to speak again, her voice was seemingly calm, but betrayed the slightest twinge of hurt.
"I am trying to win, Roxy, I just..."
She understood why Roxanne had been so curt and rude with her, given the circumstances that had caused them to part. In Roxanne's position, she too would be suitably frustrated and angry. Despite that understanding, it still stung that Roxanne was so obviously fed up with her, which likely hadn't been helped by her shooting Kelly. This wasn't how she had wanted this to go when she had made the decision to come down, but she didn't know how she actually wanted this to go, she didn't...
"I didn't really have a plan when I came down here," she said, her voice losing any hint of edge that it might have previously carried. "I saw you guys from one of the windows, and I guess I just... didn't want that to be the last time the two of us ever spoke. You deserved something better than that, Roxy."
Amelia had deserved better, too.
Understanding her surroundings in case a gunfight broke out was incredibly important for Marceline's continued survival. Diego had not followed her out of the manor, something that she couldn't exactly fault him for, which meant it was two against one if the both of them decided to respond to her implicit threat of force with violence. She hadn't originally planned for violence to occur when she came down, but that was before she knew that Kelly of all people was at Roxanne's side. If she had known that in advance, she might not have bothered to come down at all.
Except she was here, now, regardless of how stupid the decision was in hindsight. That meant she had to make something of it.
Marceline glared at Kelly without saying a word for several seconds after the shotgun that the other girl was holding hit the ground. She was just about to follow up on her first order by telling them to do exactly that, both to make sure that she maintained control of the current situation and so they couldn't respond with undue force, but she supposed Kelly's bizarre act of defiance at least saved her some effort, in that regard.
"Now you do that too, Roxy. Then you both back away from the guns."
The girls followed suit, presumably out of a lack of other options. Roxanne's shotgun thumped fairly unceremoniously against the soft ground, both weapons now obscured by the tall grass. Shortly thereafter, both of them walked a few feet away from where the guns now rested, Marceline keeping the shotgun trained firmly on Kelly all the while. Now that the guns were out of play, she allowed herself to take a deep breath, her heartbeat slowing back down to normal, and her vice-like grip on the shotgun relaxing.
Without saying another word, she pulled the trigger.
The deafening roar of the weapon being fired was followed quickly by the distinctive, ear-piercing ringing that she had grown accustomed to. She had seen a burst of red come from Kelly's direction, but despite her best efforts, Kelly did not crumple to the ground like Nick had. In the panic that ensued in the immediate aftermath of the first shot being fired, Kelly ended up diving behind the nearby tree and hiding herself from view. Marceline hadn't been able to see exactly where she had actually hit the other girl, but she knew that it definitely hadn't been where she had been aiming. She was still satisfied having made Kelly bleed at least, but she would have preferred for the other girl to be dead or at least out of the way.
She must have overcompensated for the gun's recoil, which served her right for not taking the time to practice firing it. The important part hadn't been to actually kill Kelly, though. Rather, the blast had been about sending a message, and Marceline believed that it had served that purpose well. She hoped that her casual disregard for Kelly's life got her answers to Roxanne's questions across, loud and clear, in a way that words never could.
Unlike Kelly, Roxanne hadn't moved from her spot even after the sound of the blast reverberated around the area, remaining as stoic and surprisingly confident as ever. Perhaps even now she knew that Marceline would be unwilling to shoot her, especially when she was unarmed, and she was right to believe that. Marceline had already killed one of her only friends, and she had no intention of adding Roxanne to her own personal body pile. She knew that Roxanne would need to die at some point if she were to win, and she knew that not doing it herself just meant someone else doing it in her stead, but the experience of killing Amelia had been enough. So long as she had any other option at her disposal, she wouldn't be murdering her last remaining friend.
When the thin trail of smoke exiting the end of the shotgun and the ringing in her ears began to clear, Marceline finally lowered the shotgun, keeping it ready, but not directly pointed at either Roxanne or the now-hiding Kelly. When she began to speak again, her voice was seemingly calm, but betrayed the slightest twinge of hurt.
"I am trying to win, Roxy, I just..."
She understood why Roxanne had been so curt and rude with her, given the circumstances that had caused them to part. In Roxanne's position, she too would be suitably frustrated and angry. Despite that understanding, it still stung that Roxanne was so obviously fed up with her, which likely hadn't been helped by her shooting Kelly. This wasn't how she had wanted this to go when she had made the decision to come down, but she didn't know how she actually wanted this to go, she didn't...
"I didn't really have a plan when I came down here," she said, her voice losing any hint of edge that it might have previously carried. "I saw you guys from one of the windows, and I guess I just... didn't want that to be the last time the two of us ever spoke. You deserved something better than that, Roxy."
Amelia had deserved better, too.
A snippet of Roxanne’s horrifically dramatic conversation with Blaise came back to her as she nonchalantly tossed her shotgun into the soft overgrowth - she had said her life and her gun had been irrevocably intertwined with her idiotic gamble, but here she was. Throwing it away. Not as permanently as if it was over the side of the cliffs, but still, it was out of her hands. Did that mean anything?
Roxanne didn’t have time to think about it. Marceline’s shotgun blasted, just feet away from her, and she flinched. She wasn’t a statue, despite her best imitations, but she still kept her gaze locked to the horizon, standing tall. She’d been right not to be afraid for her own sake, but she was still stunned by how disposable Kelly’s life was. At worst she’d still expected a little gloating, before the shot, but Marceline really was deathly serious.
She couldn't have missed someone standing still, that close to her. Roxanne couldn’t bring herself to turn her head even slightly to the side - despite everything, she’d been spared the shock of seeing the spilled entrails of someone she’d been casually talking to, mere seconds ago - though, ‘casual’ was the wrong way to describe any of her interactions with Kelly. Still. It felt like their time together should have led to something more meaningful than dying as a footnote in a petty argument between former friends.
It was payback she hadn’t wished for - interest paid on the collateral damage from the exploding shotgun shell. Roxanne had gotten the kinder end of that deal. She hadn’t bothered to change her bandages in days - the risk of infection feeling increasingly meaningless the closer they got to the end.
She waited for Marceline to finish her shamefully apologetic speech before she finally turned around. Mostly so she could steel herself for the carnage that was surely dripping by her side. She glanced at Marceline just long enough to make sure she wasn’t about to shoot her, then turned her head and saw Kelly -
Standing, bracing herself against a tree. Wounded but obviously still alive. Roxanne was relieved, but strangely disappointed as well. Marceline’s follow-through was lacking. Crippling Kelly further was just a needlessly cruel waste of a bullet. She should’ve aimed it at her head or not fired at all.
Hopefully, Kelly wouldn’t bleed out in the next few minutes. Roxanne wanted to help her, but it was probably in the girl’s best interests for Marceline’s attention to be kept away from her.
“You’re not off to a good start,” Roxanne said. It was almost funny, how clumsy and naive Marceline’s attempts at reconciliation were. What did Roxanne ‘deserve’? To be disarmed, held at gunpoint, powerless to prevent her companion from being shot? How was this any better than the quiet antipathy they had left off with?
“Kelly deserved something better than being used as punctuation.” Marceline’s conscience would be clean, despite the jab - she was sure that Marceline didn’t even consider Kelly to be human. Still, it needed to be said. The echo gave it power.
Roxanne took a single step forward. Another echo. Would it end the same way?
“Hey. I’m curious. Think about the first day. Who you were when you first woke up. Did that girl transform, ascend, whatever? Or was she replaced by whoever’s standing in front of me? What do you think?” Ship of Theseus by a thousand cuts. Was anything left of either of them?
Roxanne didn’t have time to think about it. Marceline’s shotgun blasted, just feet away from her, and she flinched. She wasn’t a statue, despite her best imitations, but she still kept her gaze locked to the horizon, standing tall. She’d been right not to be afraid for her own sake, but she was still stunned by how disposable Kelly’s life was. At worst she’d still expected a little gloating, before the shot, but Marceline really was deathly serious.
She couldn't have missed someone standing still, that close to her. Roxanne couldn’t bring herself to turn her head even slightly to the side - despite everything, she’d been spared the shock of seeing the spilled entrails of someone she’d been casually talking to, mere seconds ago - though, ‘casual’ was the wrong way to describe any of her interactions with Kelly. Still. It felt like their time together should have led to something more meaningful than dying as a footnote in a petty argument between former friends.
It was payback she hadn’t wished for - interest paid on the collateral damage from the exploding shotgun shell. Roxanne had gotten the kinder end of that deal. She hadn’t bothered to change her bandages in days - the risk of infection feeling increasingly meaningless the closer they got to the end.
She waited for Marceline to finish her shamefully apologetic speech before she finally turned around. Mostly so she could steel herself for the carnage that was surely dripping by her side. She glanced at Marceline just long enough to make sure she wasn’t about to shoot her, then turned her head and saw Kelly -
Standing, bracing herself against a tree. Wounded but obviously still alive. Roxanne was relieved, but strangely disappointed as well. Marceline’s follow-through was lacking. Crippling Kelly further was just a needlessly cruel waste of a bullet. She should’ve aimed it at her head or not fired at all.
Hopefully, Kelly wouldn’t bleed out in the next few minutes. Roxanne wanted to help her, but it was probably in the girl’s best interests for Marceline’s attention to be kept away from her.
“You’re not off to a good start,” Roxanne said. It was almost funny, how clumsy and naive Marceline’s attempts at reconciliation were. What did Roxanne ‘deserve’? To be disarmed, held at gunpoint, powerless to prevent her companion from being shot? How was this any better than the quiet antipathy they had left off with?
“Kelly deserved something better than being used as punctuation.” Marceline’s conscience would be clean, despite the jab - she was sure that Marceline didn’t even consider Kelly to be human. Still, it needed to be said. The echo gave it power.
Roxanne took a single step forward. Another echo. Would it end the same way?
“Hey. I’m curious. Think about the first day. Who you were when you first woke up. Did that girl transform, ascend, whatever? Or was she replaced by whoever’s standing in front of me? What do you think?” Ship of Theseus by a thousand cuts. Was anything left of either of them?
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VoltTurtle
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"Okay, first," Marceline snarled in response, furious at her friend for defending Kelly of all people. "She deserved worse. Consider it payback for what she did to you!"
Her unkempt, short hair was tousled as the wind began to pick up. At the same time, she felt water droplets hit the top of her head and her shoulders, the dark clouds that swirled in the morning sky far above seemingly reflecting the gradually worsening mood.
She took a single step back, echoing Roxy's single step forward. She remembered what had happened last time. She didn't know exactly how she had actually wanted this to go, but she did know that this definitely wasn't it. Roxanne was pulling the same stunt again, taunting her, advancing upon her, trying to goad her into attacking. She wasn't having it, she wouldn't allow this to end in either of them being hurt. This time she would make Roxanne bend to her will and back down, and not the other way around.
She stared daggers into Roxanne, her grip on the shotgun in her hands tightening. Just in case Roxanne did decide to do something reckless and asinine, she quickly took note of everything she had with and around her. Dolly's knife sat in her left pocket, while Amelia's pistol and its extra magazine sat in her right pocket. Her sword was sheathed, and still strapped to her back like it had been for some time. Her bag was on her left, weighing her down by the strap around her shoulder, Nick's dagger and Juliette's razor tucked away safely inside.
The bag would get in the way, if they were to fight. With that in mind, she quickly took hold of the strap and tossed the bag onto the ground next to her with a small thump, leaving it now partially obscured by the thigh-high grass that blew feverishly in the wind. With the exceptions of her bag and the one ceramic pot with the vastly overgrown ivy coming out of it, there was plenty of open space around her. Roxanne was currently unarmed, and both of them were roughly the same size, so if her attempts to bend Roxanne to her will failed and she needed to subdue her friend without killing her, it shouldn't be too difficult.
"Second-"
Was Roxanne right, to question whether she was the same person? She had asked that much of herself before, wondering if anyone at home would even recognize her, should she make it there. Was she nothing but a monster, having slowly supplanted and now wearing the skin of the girl known as Marceline? Or was she the same sad girl she always was, only pushed to her absolute limits by the tragedy of circumstance? Was she the ship Pequod, having been destroyed and replaced, or the captain Ahab, driven mad in pursuit of her quest?
She didn't know, she didn't have a real answer, but she felt in her heart-
"Of course I'm the same person, Roxy," she shouted at her friend, over the sound of the howling winds. "If I wasn't, you'd be dead!"
Her unkempt, short hair was tousled as the wind began to pick up. At the same time, she felt water droplets hit the top of her head and her shoulders, the dark clouds that swirled in the morning sky far above seemingly reflecting the gradually worsening mood.
She took a single step back, echoing Roxy's single step forward. She remembered what had happened last time. She didn't know exactly how she had actually wanted this to go, but she did know that this definitely wasn't it. Roxanne was pulling the same stunt again, taunting her, advancing upon her, trying to goad her into attacking. She wasn't having it, she wouldn't allow this to end in either of them being hurt. This time she would make Roxanne bend to her will and back down, and not the other way around.
She stared daggers into Roxanne, her grip on the shotgun in her hands tightening. Just in case Roxanne did decide to do something reckless and asinine, she quickly took note of everything she had with and around her. Dolly's knife sat in her left pocket, while Amelia's pistol and its extra magazine sat in her right pocket. Her sword was sheathed, and still strapped to her back like it had been for some time. Her bag was on her left, weighing her down by the strap around her shoulder, Nick's dagger and Juliette's razor tucked away safely inside.
The bag would get in the way, if they were to fight. With that in mind, she quickly took hold of the strap and tossed the bag onto the ground next to her with a small thump, leaving it now partially obscured by the thigh-high grass that blew feverishly in the wind. With the exceptions of her bag and the one ceramic pot with the vastly overgrown ivy coming out of it, there was plenty of open space around her. Roxanne was currently unarmed, and both of them were roughly the same size, so if her attempts to bend Roxanne to her will failed and she needed to subdue her friend without killing her, it shouldn't be too difficult.
"Second-"
Was Roxanne right, to question whether she was the same person? She had asked that much of herself before, wondering if anyone at home would even recognize her, should she make it there. Was she nothing but a monster, having slowly supplanted and now wearing the skin of the girl known as Marceline? Or was she the same sad girl she always was, only pushed to her absolute limits by the tragedy of circumstance? Was she the ship Pequod, having been destroyed and replaced, or the captain Ahab, driven mad in pursuit of her quest?
She didn't know, she didn't have a real answer, but she felt in her heart-
"Of course I'm the same person, Roxy," she shouted at her friend, over the sound of the howling winds. "If I wasn't, you'd be dead!"
Roxanne hadn’t asked for payback, but there wasn’t any point in telling Marceline that. She would never understand what Roxanne had seen in Kelly - and the obvious truth of the matter was that she’d shot her because she wanted to shoot her. For dramatic emphasis, out of petty spite, whatever. It had nothing to do with Roxanne.
The weather worsened to match the mood. It felt like something was watching, more than just the cameras. So many people had already died - she was sure that most of them hadn’t been given such an appropriate stage to shine on.
It was so easy to read intent into the peculiarities of the world around her. Was that more comforting than the alternative? That the rain was some divine onlooker’s mood lighting, not a product of a mindless, impartial system of natural laws? Would it be better if the arc of her life from birth had inevitably lead to her becoming a part of the dragon’s game, instead of someone picking her school’s name out of a hat?
As ever, there were no answers, no comfort to be found from either possibility. The questioning was for its own sake, a rather lackadaisical habit to showcase during the climax.
Marceline’s answer didn’t impress her. After all, Roxanne had met many people on the island, and none of them had killed her yet. That was one thing the girl in front of her had in common with Blaise. She was tempted to say as much, but even her lack of self preservation had limits. She opted for a different tactic.
“I am dead,” she said, calm in the face of Marceline’s storm, raising her voice just loud enough so it wasn’t drowned out by the wind. “Sorry to break it to you. I think it happened right before we reunited in the lighthouse. I had an answer, the moment I woke up, but it slipped away from me. As soon as I started looking for it I was doomed to never find it again. Do you understand?”
Roxanne took a single step forward.
The weather worsened to match the mood. It felt like something was watching, more than just the cameras. So many people had already died - she was sure that most of them hadn’t been given such an appropriate stage to shine on.
It was so easy to read intent into the peculiarities of the world around her. Was that more comforting than the alternative? That the rain was some divine onlooker’s mood lighting, not a product of a mindless, impartial system of natural laws? Would it be better if the arc of her life from birth had inevitably lead to her becoming a part of the dragon’s game, instead of someone picking her school’s name out of a hat?
As ever, there were no answers, no comfort to be found from either possibility. The questioning was for its own sake, a rather lackadaisical habit to showcase during the climax.
Marceline’s answer didn’t impress her. After all, Roxanne had met many people on the island, and none of them had killed her yet. That was one thing the girl in front of her had in common with Blaise. She was tempted to say as much, but even her lack of self preservation had limits. She opted for a different tactic.
“I am dead,” she said, calm in the face of Marceline’s storm, raising her voice just loud enough so it wasn’t drowned out by the wind. “Sorry to break it to you. I think it happened right before we reunited in the lighthouse. I had an answer, the moment I woke up, but it slipped away from me. As soon as I started looking for it I was doomed to never find it again. Do you understand?”
Roxanne took a single step forward.
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VoltTurtle
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Another step forward, and another challenge in their battle of hearts and minds. Marceline stood her ground, not backing down in the face of Roxanne's steady advance. Roxanne clearly thought herself to be unstoppable. Marceline would show her just how wrong she was. She wouldn't fall this time, she wouldn't allow herself to back down, not again.
Everything else—the pouring rain, the howling winds, Kelly—began to fall away as Marceline focused solely on Roxanne, her words, and her footsteps. She began to wonder, just what was Roxanne's plan? Was she trying to approach simply to get Marceline to back off? Was she trying to goad her into firing again? Or was there something else entirely at play?
"So what," she shouted back. "Are you saying that I'm dead too, because I've been looking for the answer just like you?"
Everything else—the pouring rain, the howling winds, Kelly—began to fall away as Marceline focused solely on Roxanne, her words, and her footsteps. She began to wonder, just what was Roxanne's plan? Was she trying to approach simply to get Marceline to back off? Was she trying to goad her into firing again? Or was there something else entirely at play?
"So what," she shouted back. "Are you saying that I'm dead too, because I've been looking for the answer just like you?"
“You really don’t understand? There’s nothing beautiful here that didn’t already exist in our hearts, but we all lost sight of that, one by one, dying a little at a time. And when we started searching for some truth to replace it? The island only had one answer.”
Roxanne smiled.
“And you already found it.” Death or glory.
She took a single step forward - and then lunged, punching Marceline full force in the face, the blow landing on her mouth. She could feel blood starting to drip from where the teeth had cut into her hand, but it barely stung at all, or rather, it didn’t sting enough.
Roxanne smiled.
“And you already found it.” Death or glory.
She took a single step forward - and then lunged, punching Marceline full force in the face, the blow landing on her mouth. She could feel blood starting to drip from where the teeth had cut into her hand, but it barely stung at all, or rather, it didn’t sting enough.
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VoltTurtle
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Stars filled Marceline's vision at the moment of impact. Pain erupted in the lower half of her face.
Her fingers reflexively curled around the shotgun's trigger. A thunderous boom sounded out through the clearing.
Her ears rung. Her vision blurred. Her face burned.
The shotgun wasn't in her hands anymore. She hadn't been holding it well enough. It was somewhere in the grass now. She didn't have the time to look for it.
Not that it mattered, anyway. Right now there was only one thing on her mind.
She launched herself forward shoulder-first, throwing her whole body weight into Roxanne. The recoil from the impact hurt, but it succeeded at sending the girl tumbling to the ground.
"Roxy," she screeched at the downed girl. "What the fuck is wrong with you?!"
Her fingers reflexively curled around the shotgun's trigger. A thunderous boom sounded out through the clearing.
Her ears rung. Her vision blurred. Her face burned.
The shotgun wasn't in her hands anymore. She hadn't been holding it well enough. It was somewhere in the grass now. She didn't have the time to look for it.
Not that it mattered, anyway. Right now there was only one thing on her mind.
She launched herself forward shoulder-first, throwing her whole body weight into Roxanne. The recoil from the impact hurt, but it succeeded at sending the girl tumbling to the ground.
"Roxy," she screeched at the downed girl. "What the fuck is wrong with you?!"
An explosion, inches away from Roxanne’s face. The fact that she had consciously taken note of this was proof enough that it had missed, but her untempered self reflexively flinched back. Her vicious momentum was derailed, and she was forced to take a second to think about what she would do next, but Marceline had already decided and so she stumbled and fell backwards onto the girl’s bag.
There was something distinctly knife-like poking into her back, through the cheap fabric. She chose to take it as a sign. Marceline was stopping to berate her. Against anyone else, that would’ve killed her. She genuinely didn’t believe what Roxanne was doing.
“Wish we could have saved this for the end, but this might be the last chance we get,” she said, trying to quietly unzip the bag with one hand behind her, hoping her words and the storm would distract for a few more vital seconds.
In all honesty, Roxanne hadn’t wanted this to happen, in the sense that she hadn’t actively planned for it. Even for those first few moments when Marceline had ambushed her, she hadn’t wanted things to escalate this far.
It took the shotgun blast to finally make up her mind, one last act of senseless violence to tip the scales towards trial by fire. Not judgement, not justice. It could’ve been anyone, even though she really did like Kelly. That was the frightening thing - it could’ve been anyone. It could’ve been her, playing a bit part in someone else’s performance, but if she continued as she was, it was the only possible future for her.
The thousands of questions churning inside her had finally been brought to a boiling point. Her lack of an answer, the island’s answer, identity and lachesism, inexorable fate, the dragon consuming her future, the hollowness inside her.
She had to learn how to win or die trying. It would be the hardest thing she would ever do, and she did not want to die despite all evidence to the contrary, but she couldn’t take the easy way out, learn to kill by stealing someone away in their sleep. It had to be something she earned.
And if she failed, there was no one left alive she trusted more than Marceline to remember her final moments.
“Hey. If you had to be killed by someone. Would you rather be a story or a statistic to them?” Her hand met hilt. She didn’t wait for an answer before she sprang to her feet and charged, swinging.
There was something distinctly knife-like poking into her back, through the cheap fabric. She chose to take it as a sign. Marceline was stopping to berate her. Against anyone else, that would’ve killed her. She genuinely didn’t believe what Roxanne was doing.
“Wish we could have saved this for the end, but this might be the last chance we get,” she said, trying to quietly unzip the bag with one hand behind her, hoping her words and the storm would distract for a few more vital seconds.
In all honesty, Roxanne hadn’t wanted this to happen, in the sense that she hadn’t actively planned for it. Even for those first few moments when Marceline had ambushed her, she hadn’t wanted things to escalate this far.
It took the shotgun blast to finally make up her mind, one last act of senseless violence to tip the scales towards trial by fire. Not judgement, not justice. It could’ve been anyone, even though she really did like Kelly. That was the frightening thing - it could’ve been anyone. It could’ve been her, playing a bit part in someone else’s performance, but if she continued as she was, it was the only possible future for her.
The thousands of questions churning inside her had finally been brought to a boiling point. Her lack of an answer, the island’s answer, identity and lachesism, inexorable fate, the dragon consuming her future, the hollowness inside her.
She had to learn how to win or die trying. It would be the hardest thing she would ever do, and she did not want to die despite all evidence to the contrary, but she couldn’t take the easy way out, learn to kill by stealing someone away in their sleep. It had to be something she earned.
And if she failed, there was no one left alive she trusted more than Marceline to remember her final moments.
“Hey. If you had to be killed by someone. Would you rather be a story or a statistic to them?” Her hand met hilt. She didn’t wait for an answer before she sprang to her feet and charged, swinging.
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VoltTurtle
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Roxanne was trying to kill her.
The horror of that revelation hit Marceline like a freight train, nearly threatening to blow her away all by itself.
She didn't want to hurt Roxanne, but she couldn't let herself die, either. She didn't have enough time to think, she had to act.
Marceline sprang backwards, barely avoiding a swing hitting her right in the face. Her hand fumbled to get her pistol out and flick off the safety.
She couldn't go through what she did to Amelia again. There had to be a way out of this, without either of them dying. There had to be something she could say to make Roxanne stop, she just had to get a moment to think. A moment that she would be denied, thanks to Roxanne barreling down upon her.
Marceline squeezed the trigger in a panic, not having the time to take aim. Another deafening roar echoed through the clearing. Roxanne's momentum was halted once again, but the pistol had sailed out of her grip, the same as the shotgun.
Wasting no time, she pulled out Dolly's knife with her left hand and assumed a defensive posture. Just like dad had taught her.
"Roxy, I know what you're doing," she said, her voice trembling as much as her hands. "Please, stop. I don't want to hurt you."
The horror of that revelation hit Marceline like a freight train, nearly threatening to blow her away all by itself.
She didn't want to hurt Roxanne, but she couldn't let herself die, either. She didn't have enough time to think, she had to act.
Marceline sprang backwards, barely avoiding a swing hitting her right in the face. Her hand fumbled to get her pistol out and flick off the safety.
She couldn't go through what she did to Amelia again. There had to be a way out of this, without either of them dying. There had to be something she could say to make Roxanne stop, she just had to get a moment to think. A moment that she would be denied, thanks to Roxanne barreling down upon her.
Marceline squeezed the trigger in a panic, not having the time to take aim. Another deafening roar echoed through the clearing. Roxanne's momentum was halted once again, but the pistol had sailed out of her grip, the same as the shotgun.
Wasting no time, she pulled out Dolly's knife with her left hand and assumed a defensive posture. Just like dad had taught her.
"Roxy, I know what you're doing," she said, her voice trembling as much as her hands. "Please, stop. I don't want to hurt you."
Despite everything, Marceline was still play-fighting. It frustrated Roxanne that she was unable to even hold her ground against someone who was actively trying not to hurt her, but that was better than the alternative. There would have been no satisfaction if her first wild swing had miraculously slit Marceline’s neck - it wouldn’t have felt earned. The conflict itself was just as meaningful as the outcome, if not more.
While she hadn’t been able to land any solid slashes on Marceline, she had at least been able to knock the gun out of her hands as she misfired, only to be rewarded with a heavy blow to the jaw that sent her reeling back. Roxanne was not accustomed to pain, but it felt more intoxicating than blinding. The knife felt better in her hand than the shotgun ever had.
She caught her breath and the world stopped spinning. She saw Marceline across from her, knife in hand, and she did her amateur best to match her stance. Roxanne felt her name was suited to a knife fight - like leather jackets and motorcycles, switchblades in alleyways. Nothing as arbitrary as a single bullet to the face.
Long ago, when she had stood by and watched Kelly’s desperate struggle against Marceline, she hadn’t understood, and she now realized she couldn’t have. To fight for your life was to lose yourself - to become a blur of instinct and flesh, suppress every uselessly human part of you that would be horrified by what you were doing.
When you had nothing else left, it almost felt like freedom.
“It doesn’t matter what either of us want, anymore! I don’t think Amelia wanted to be killed by you!” Roxanne was finally shouting, too. Not out of any misguided morality, or a wish to make Marceline answer for her actions. She just wanted her to fight back.
She was sure that Marceline would expect the charge, this time. It didn’t matter. Flesh was just flesh - every laceration she suffered would just be one more ordeal to temper herself with. It would be anticlimactic if she overcame Marceline, only to bleed out afterwards, so she wouldn’t. That’s all there was to it.
Roxanne darted forward, and struck at Marceline’s left hand.
While she hadn’t been able to land any solid slashes on Marceline, she had at least been able to knock the gun out of her hands as she misfired, only to be rewarded with a heavy blow to the jaw that sent her reeling back. Roxanne was not accustomed to pain, but it felt more intoxicating than blinding. The knife felt better in her hand than the shotgun ever had.
She caught her breath and the world stopped spinning. She saw Marceline across from her, knife in hand, and she did her amateur best to match her stance. Roxanne felt her name was suited to a knife fight - like leather jackets and motorcycles, switchblades in alleyways. Nothing as arbitrary as a single bullet to the face.
Long ago, when she had stood by and watched Kelly’s desperate struggle against Marceline, she hadn’t understood, and she now realized she couldn’t have. To fight for your life was to lose yourself - to become a blur of instinct and flesh, suppress every uselessly human part of you that would be horrified by what you were doing.
When you had nothing else left, it almost felt like freedom.
“It doesn’t matter what either of us want, anymore! I don’t think Amelia wanted to be killed by you!” Roxanne was finally shouting, too. Not out of any misguided morality, or a wish to make Marceline answer for her actions. She just wanted her to fight back.
She was sure that Marceline would expect the charge, this time. It didn’t matter. Flesh was just flesh - every laceration she suffered would just be one more ordeal to temper herself with. It would be anticlimactic if she overcame Marceline, only to bleed out afterwards, so she wouldn’t. That’s all there was to it.
Roxanne darted forward, and struck at Marceline’s left hand.