When you play hockey you aren't a stranger to blood, but when the claw on his hand contacted Charlotte's face Phil wasn't ready for the sickening sound of metal scraping on bone, nor the strange otherworldly feel of tearing someone's eye out. He hadn't truly intended to do so but enraged as he was he had just started swinging, not even thinking about the consequences of the claws on his hands. Phil wasn't a boxer, but he was a brawler and knew how to take a punch. Even so he was initially taken a back by the ferocity and precision of Charlotte's fighting style and struggled to defend against the blows that she was raining down on him, so when she turned for the split second she did he took full advantage of the distraction and swiped across her face.
As the thin spray of blood splattered across his face and Charlotte crumpled in front of him Phil moved, still in the throes of rage, to leap at the screaming girl and jam his claw down on her prone body. A dull thump momentarily threw him off balance as Bobby's shoulder connected with his body. It wasn't much, but did the job of distracting Phil from his victim and he turned, furious at the interruption. A solid thwack from Owen's wooden sword made him spin once more, his claws narrowly missing the second boy as he made his move. The two students were already in full sprint by the time he had his wits about him and he stormed out of the hut, turning this way and that looking for something or someone to hit.
"Come back here you little cunts!" he yelled as he stood outside the door, blood dripping down his wrists and face, panting heavily.
As the adreniline ceased pumping through his body Phil came to the dark realisation of what he had just done. He took a step back towards the hut but stopped and hesitated as Charlotte's screams filled the air. Phil wasn't a murderer, he wasn't anyone who would actually seriously hurt someone. Was he? Sure he had pushed his fair share of kids over in his time and caused a broken nose here and there. He also couldn't deny the feeling that he got when his fist contacted a snot nosed little brat like Jimmy Brennan or any of the other punching bags around school, but to actually maim someone, or worse kill them was a whole new realm for Phil.
He murmered under his breath trying to justify his actions. "She came at me she did. Yeah. Just defending myself. Told her she'd get hurt. Bitch didn't listen." Phil nodded to himself, eyes downcast as his heart rate began to slow to normal. "Yeah, deserved what she got, taught her a lesson good. Those little geek ain't going to understand though. They're going to spread shit about me killing people, which I ain't done. Maybe I should make sure she ain't dead though."
He turned to the cabin. The screaming was starting to get to him. He couldn't go back in there, not with her in that state. He looked over to the bags piled at the side of the building and stepped towards them. He couldn't help her anyway, but he couldn't go in there and finish her off, or even go in there and retrieve whatever she had on her. That wouldn't be right and he just *couldn't* handle that shrieking, ear splitting screaming right now. He had to get away from her, get his mind out of this fog that seemed to of pervaded all his senses. Grabbing the two bags he had set down earlier he began to move off in what he thought the same direction as he thought the two boys went.
Phil didn't want to kill anyone, but he did need to make sure that no one else found out about this and he certainly didn't want those little dweebs spreading lies about him. Find those two and get them to shut up Phil thought to himself. He moved quickly away from the hut, oblivious to the two girls hiding at the window.
((Phillip Ward continued in Woods of Paranoia)
Where is My Mind?
B116 Start
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Don't think, just run.
Before Owen quite realized it he was far away from the hut, and from Phillip Ward. He'd managed to get a good hit in on him as he ran out the door. He'd been aiming for the knee and hoping to do enough damage to slow him down for a while, but he'd ended up hitting a little bit higher and just making him angry. But luckily he'd come out of it unscathed, and maybe he gave him a welt. Owen wasn't exactly sure what a welt on the thigh would do besides hurt and annoy the boy, but it was something. What was that proverb again? One thousand small cuts will do the work as surely as an executioner's axe? Great, 999 more hits and he's toast.
Owen had a look around, trying to figure out just where he was. He could see what appeared to be a mansion in one direction, woods in another, and some cliffs if he chose not to follow either of the other paths. The mansion probably had people in it, and that could be bad. The cliff was a cliff. And the woods could be concealing all sorts of things; Owen's crazed classmates not being the least of those things.
"The cliffs it is I guess..." Owen said to no one in particular before setting off in that direction.
((Owen Rothschild continued in Feeling Kind of Anxious))
Before Owen quite realized it he was far away from the hut, and from Phillip Ward. He'd managed to get a good hit in on him as he ran out the door. He'd been aiming for the knee and hoping to do enough damage to slow him down for a while, but he'd ended up hitting a little bit higher and just making him angry. But luckily he'd come out of it unscathed, and maybe he gave him a welt. Owen wasn't exactly sure what a welt on the thigh would do besides hurt and annoy the boy, but it was something. What was that proverb again? One thousand small cuts will do the work as surely as an executioner's axe? Great, 999 more hits and he's toast.
Owen had a look around, trying to figure out just where he was. He could see what appeared to be a mansion in one direction, woods in another, and some cliffs if he chose not to follow either of the other paths. The mansion probably had people in it, and that could be bad. The cliff was a cliff. And the woods could be concealing all sorts of things; Owen's crazed classmates not being the least of those things.
"The cliffs it is I guess..." Owen said to no one in particular before setting off in that direction.
((Owen Rothschild continued in Feeling Kind of Anxious))
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Super Llama†
- Posts: 339
- Joined: Sat Sep 01, 2018 7:39 am
Petrushka's mind was screaming at her to make tracks at the first sight of blood, but she just couldn't will herself to. She managed to calm down, though, as the girl started to get the upper hand, pummeling the clawed boy. For a moment, she even found herself rooting for her. She definitely seemed like the less dangerous of the two.
Then the girl lost an eye.
At first, the injury didn't seem that bad. Sure, it looked painful, but about the same as that last slash. Then the girl turned enough that Petrushka could REALLY get a look at the damage done, and her body was wracked by a wave of nausea as she struggled to keep the contents of her stomach where they were, gripping the windowsill until her knuckles were white.
Fortunately, the clawed boy ran off soon after, leaving just her, the girl she followed, and the now-one-eyed girl. She could've just made a break for it. There was no telling if, or when, the clawed boy would come back for more. And it's not like she could do anything for the girl in the hut. She only had basic first aid knowledge, and losing an eye wasn't really something that basic first aid knowledge could fix. Besides, wasn't helping others with their injuries contrary to what she'd need to do to survive? She wasn't just an injured girl, she was competition, and saving her could mean another competitor putting a gun to her head further down the line. Such thoughts went through her mind for a fraction of a second, but basic human decency soon prevailed.
She had to help this girl.
Getting up from her spot at the windowsill, she rushed to the entrance, only to find that there wasn't a daypack to be seen. But where was her's? She almost swore when she remembered that she dropped it nearby. "P-please! Wait here!" She said to the girl, having no idea if she'd comply as she ran to get to her pack. Passing by the girl she followed there, she shouted to her "Help! She needs help!" Hoping that she'd lend a hand. Out of the corner of her eye, though, she spotted another daypack at the rear of the building (belonging to the one-eyed girl's, though she didn't know that at the time) and made a beeline for it, opening it up and tearing through it, tossing things aside until she found the first aid kit. Her hands were already trembling as panic began to set in. She wasn't trained for this sort of thing! How could she hope to do anything? But still, she had to at least make an effort.
Then the girl lost an eye.
At first, the injury didn't seem that bad. Sure, it looked painful, but about the same as that last slash. Then the girl turned enough that Petrushka could REALLY get a look at the damage done, and her body was wracked by a wave of nausea as she struggled to keep the contents of her stomach where they were, gripping the windowsill until her knuckles were white.
Fortunately, the clawed boy ran off soon after, leaving just her, the girl she followed, and the now-one-eyed girl. She could've just made a break for it. There was no telling if, or when, the clawed boy would come back for more. And it's not like she could do anything for the girl in the hut. She only had basic first aid knowledge, and losing an eye wasn't really something that basic first aid knowledge could fix. Besides, wasn't helping others with their injuries contrary to what she'd need to do to survive? She wasn't just an injured girl, she was competition, and saving her could mean another competitor putting a gun to her head further down the line. Such thoughts went through her mind for a fraction of a second, but basic human decency soon prevailed.
She had to help this girl.
Getting up from her spot at the windowsill, she rushed to the entrance, only to find that there wasn't a daypack to be seen. But where was her's? She almost swore when she remembered that she dropped it nearby. "P-please! Wait here!" She said to the girl, having no idea if she'd comply as she ran to get to her pack. Passing by the girl she followed there, she shouted to her "Help! She needs help!" Hoping that she'd lend a hand. Out of the corner of her eye, though, she spotted another daypack at the rear of the building (belonging to the one-eyed girl's, though she didn't know that at the time) and made a beeline for it, opening it up and tearing through it, tossing things aside until she found the first aid kit. Her hands were already trembling as panic began to set in. She wasn't trained for this sort of thing! How could she hope to do anything? But still, she had to at least make an effort.
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The pain was paralyzing, though her eye was the source of surprisingly little of it. It was as firmly entrenched in its socket as ever, albeit not in any usable condition, and the outermost claws kept the one in the middle from going deeper and causing potentially fatal damage. Rather, it was the gashes that stretched halfway across her face that were the primary cause of her present anguish. Words were spoken, people came and went, but none of it was registering through Charlotte's searing pain, coupled with her blinding rage.
I'm gonna kill you, Ward. I'm gonna find you, and I'm gonna kill you.
She clutched her left hand over her eye, blood seeping through her fingers. She was immobilized. All she could do was kneel there in the corner and seethe.
No words, save for three, could find their way across her lips.
"I'll kill him."
It was something that, mere minutes ago, she would never imagine herself saying.
"I'll kill him."
And yet here, now, it seemed so logical, so rational, it made such perfect sense to her that she couldn't help but say it again.
"I'll kill him."
And again.
"I'll kill him."
And again.
"I'llkillhimI'llkillhimI'llkillhimI'llkillhimI'llkillhimI'llkillhimI'llkillhimI'llkillhimI'llkillhimI'llkillhimI'llkillhimI'llkillhimI'llkillhimI'llkillhimI'llkillhimI'llkillhim..."
When the adrenaline kicked in, she was no longer Charlotte. She was no longer even human. She was a bull, and all the world was red.
Yet for all her rage, she was still helpless.
I'm gonna kill you, Ward. I'm gonna find you, and I'm gonna kill you.
She clutched her left hand over her eye, blood seeping through her fingers. She was immobilized. All she could do was kneel there in the corner and seethe.
No words, save for three, could find their way across her lips.
"I'll kill him."
It was something that, mere minutes ago, she would never imagine herself saying.
"I'll kill him."
And yet here, now, it seemed so logical, so rational, it made such perfect sense to her that she couldn't help but say it again.
"I'll kill him."
And again.
"I'll kill him."
And again.
"I'llkillhimI'llkillhimI'llkillhimI'llkillhimI'llkillhimI'llkillhimI'llkillhimI'llkillhimI'llkillhimI'llkillhimI'llkillhimI'llkillhimI'llkillhimI'llkillhimI'llkillhimI'llkillhim..."
When the adrenaline kicked in, she was no longer Charlotte. She was no longer even human. She was a bull, and all the world was red.
Yet for all her rage, she was still helpless.
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Stark. 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.
((Milo Taylor continued from Flicker. Pretty sure this is okay, I'm just trying to get a post in with him before the inactivity timer kicks.))
Milo had been walking for quite a while. The sight of the groundskeeper's hut, an unfamiliar location, captivated him.
Ooh, a new place! Maybe there's people in here, he thought to himself, his mind not really functioning. To be entirely fair, Milo Taylor's mind was rarely functioning.
He dropped his daypack and crept up to the window, slowly but surely. During this time, he failed to notice the two men getting the hell away from the hut, although again, he rarely noticed anything to begin with. It was a wonder that he hadn't been hit by a train or something before this whole mess had happened.
However, it was rather difficult not to notice what lay in the hut: several people, one of whom had just gotten her eye gouged out. Understandably, she was absolutely enraged, and getting on her bad side (in ways such as being in a 200km radius) was probably not a good idea.
Milo stepped backwards, trying not to alert everyone to his presence in a surprising display of common sense, picked up his daypack, and ran like hell. His mind was screaming at him that he really should have avoided the fucking hut, that this was a bad idea, and that most of all he should have fucking stayed away from the hut. But scolding himself for being a moron could wait. Running came first.
((Milo Taylor continued in Hideaway))
Milo had been walking for quite a while. The sight of the groundskeeper's hut, an unfamiliar location, captivated him.
Ooh, a new place! Maybe there's people in here, he thought to himself, his mind not really functioning. To be entirely fair, Milo Taylor's mind was rarely functioning.
He dropped his daypack and crept up to the window, slowly but surely. During this time, he failed to notice the two men getting the hell away from the hut, although again, he rarely noticed anything to begin with. It was a wonder that he hadn't been hit by a train or something before this whole mess had happened.
However, it was rather difficult not to notice what lay in the hut: several people, one of whom had just gotten her eye gouged out. Understandably, she was absolutely enraged, and getting on her bad side (in ways such as being in a 200km radius) was probably not a good idea.
Milo stepped backwards, trying not to alert everyone to his presence in a surprising display of common sense, picked up his daypack, and ran like hell. His mind was screaming at him that he really should have avoided the fucking hut, that this was a bad idea, and that most of all he should have fucking stayed away from the hut. But scolding himself for being a moron could wait. Running came first.
((Milo Taylor continued in Hideaway))
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Ruggahissy
- Posts: 1593
- Joined: Mon Aug 13, 2018 4:13 pm
((Just sneakin' in here. ))
Sally walked over to the door, ignoring the other girl's plea and leaned into the door frame. Inside she saw the girl from before clutching her eye and mumbling.
The other girl ran right past here and out of the cottage again. Her shoes clacked noisily against the wooden floor as she approached the other girl. She knelt down next to her and put her violin and bow down, but kept her pack on her shoulder.
"Goodness, look at you," she said in her most sympathetic tone.
She looked over her shoulder to see if the other girl had returned. Seeing no one for the moment she put a hand up to the uninjured side of the girl's face and peered up at her from below.
"Shhh, try to calm down a little. It's not going to be good for your injury. Where's your bag?" she asked looking around the cabin as obviously as she could.
"I'll get your kit out and we'll see what we can do about that eye...."
Or lack of one.
Sally walked over to the door, ignoring the other girl's plea and leaned into the door frame. Inside she saw the girl from before clutching her eye and mumbling.
The other girl ran right past here and out of the cottage again. Her shoes clacked noisily against the wooden floor as she approached the other girl. She knelt down next to her and put her violin and bow down, but kept her pack on her shoulder.
"Goodness, look at you," she said in her most sympathetic tone.
She looked over her shoulder to see if the other girl had returned. Seeing no one for the moment she put a hand up to the uninjured side of the girl's face and peered up at her from below.
"Shhh, try to calm down a little. It's not going to be good for your injury. Where's your bag?" she asked looking around the cabin as obviously as she could.
"I'll get your kit out and we'll see what we can do about that eye...."
Or lack of one.
So this must be it, huh?
((Clio Gabriella continued from A Solitude That Asks Nothing In Return))
Clio had been a bit of a wanderer for a while, not seeing many students or sign of mankind until she found this vast exapansive estate of land that was the Masion. She'd seen Ferris Wheels, a fun fair, and even a small house off in the distance, all around the mansion.
But no Ivan. Or Brendan. Or Etain. That was a good sign she supposed.
She took this long walk as an opportunity to reload, relax, and regain composure. She was shaken from the punch, her jaw throbbing and spurting blood out of her mouth every few minutes. She had to spit upon the ground every so often as to not drown in her own blood. She needed to rest, and so...she found this small hut.
There seemed to be a commotion when she arrived. A lot of shouting voices, and screams. She wasn't sure what was happening, so instead of going inside, she stayed well out of view of the door, and slunk her way around the west of the cabin.
Spitting again on the ground silently, she put her wits about her and tried to listen to what was going on inside, from against her own little wall.
((Clio Gabriella continued from A Solitude That Asks Nothing In Return))
Clio had been a bit of a wanderer for a while, not seeing many students or sign of mankind until she found this vast exapansive estate of land that was the Masion. She'd seen Ferris Wheels, a fun fair, and even a small house off in the distance, all around the mansion.
But no Ivan. Or Brendan. Or Etain. That was a good sign she supposed.
She took this long walk as an opportunity to reload, relax, and regain composure. She was shaken from the punch, her jaw throbbing and spurting blood out of her mouth every few minutes. She had to spit upon the ground every so often as to not drown in her own blood. She needed to rest, and so...she found this small hut.
There seemed to be a commotion when she arrived. A lot of shouting voices, and screams. She wasn't sure what was happening, so instead of going inside, she stayed well out of view of the door, and slunk her way around the west of the cabin.
Spitting again on the ground silently, she put her wits about her and tried to listen to what was going on inside, from against her own little wall.
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Super Llama†
- Posts: 339
- Joined: Sat Sep 01, 2018 7:39 am
Got it.
Her hands were still shaking, but she had a hold on the first aid kit as she hurried back inside, to the one-eyed girl, who understandably didn't look happy in the slightest about her situation.
What was she supposed to do? She scoured her brain for all the first aid knowledge that she could, dropping the first aid kit on the nearest flat surface and opening it. Okay, first she had to...had to...stop the bleeding! Yeah, that was the first thing to do. But with that? She'd need something to press against the wound until the blood stopped, but she neglected to bring anything that she could use, and her hands wouldn't really do the trick. But time was of the essence, and she couldn't waste any going back to get something for that.
...
To hell with it. Petrushka reached down and pulled off her shirt. Not really the most sanitary option to use an already-worn shirt, but it was the best option available. Moving over to Charlotte, she was unfortunate enough to get an even better look at the damage done amongst all the blood, the torn up eyeball still sitting in its socket being the best part.
"P...p-please hold still." Petrushka said, fighting the bile at the back of her throat as she leaned in, the thought that she didn't even know where to stop the bleeding having yet to occur to her.
Her hands were still shaking, but she had a hold on the first aid kit as she hurried back inside, to the one-eyed girl, who understandably didn't look happy in the slightest about her situation.
What was she supposed to do? She scoured her brain for all the first aid knowledge that she could, dropping the first aid kit on the nearest flat surface and opening it. Okay, first she had to...had to...stop the bleeding! Yeah, that was the first thing to do. But with that? She'd need something to press against the wound until the blood stopped, but she neglected to bring anything that she could use, and her hands wouldn't really do the trick. But time was of the essence, and she couldn't waste any going back to get something for that.
...
To hell with it. Petrushka reached down and pulled off her shirt. Not really the most sanitary option to use an already-worn shirt, but it was the best option available. Moving over to Charlotte, she was unfortunate enough to get an even better look at the damage done amongst all the blood, the torn up eyeball still sitting in its socket being the best part.
"P...p-please hold still." Petrushka said, fighting the bile at the back of her throat as she leaned in, the thought that she didn't even know where to stop the bleeding having yet to occur to her.
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Ruggahissy
- Posts: 1593
- Joined: Mon Aug 13, 2018 4:13 pm
Sally was getting rather annoyed that all Charlotte seemed to want to do was mumble about revenge and clutch her bleeding head wound. She huffed and stood up.
If she of the Russian had a good weapon then they'd probably have it out by now anyway. This is just a swaste of my times now.
She stood, dropping any pretense of helpfulness. She took up her violin, bow and bag an started out the door. Sally pushed roughly past the girl with the first aid kit and leaned against the door frame, taking one last look at the girls.
"Poor little Charlotte. It's too bad you're a dyke. I bet you'd be really popular with the boys now that you've got that extra hole in your face. But it's not all bad. Let me play you a sad song on the world's most average sized violin," she said, drawing the bow across the strings and producing a scratchy note.
With that she left the cabin and continued on.
(Sally continued in Out of the Darkness and Into the Light)
If she of the Russian had a good weapon then they'd probably have it out by now anyway. This is just a swaste of my times now.
She stood, dropping any pretense of helpfulness. She took up her violin, bow and bag an started out the door. Sally pushed roughly past the girl with the first aid kit and leaned against the door frame, taking one last look at the girls.
"Poor little Charlotte. It's too bad you're a dyke. I bet you'd be really popular with the boys now that you've got that extra hole in your face. But it's not all bad. Let me play you a sad song on the world's most average sized violin," she said, drawing the bow across the strings and producing a scratchy note.
With that she left the cabin and continued on.
(Sally continued in Out of the Darkness and Into the Light)
"...I'llkillhimI'llkillhimI'llkillhimI'llkillhimI'llkillhimI'llkillhimI'llkillhimI'llkillhimI'llkillhimI'llkillhimI'llkillhim..."
The pain was the only thing that kept the raging beast Charlotte had become from truly going berserk and killing everyone in the cabin with her bare hands. The pain, the blood, the filthy turtleneck held up next to her face -
Wait. Had that been there earlier?
"P...p-please hold still..."
Something in that voice brought Charlotte back down to earth. The gentleness of it, the way it trembled with fear, humanized her. It reminded her of what she fought for, like the passing glimpse of Owen and Bobby that had cost her an eye mere moments ago. It reminded her what she needed to protect.
Charlotte was Charlotte again.
The trouble was, the pain continued to be the pain. She'd taken her share of hits in her life, of course. Suffered plenty of cuts, and fought through them. It came with the territory. She lost a molar in a tournament last year, in a fight she ultimately won by knockout later in the same round. She broke her nose in another fight, one of her mere three defeats, though even then she went the distance and only lost by a split decision. This was another animal entirely. She wasn't going anywhere until the bleeding stopped. Still, whether she was fighting or going about her day to day business, one thing remained constant: Charlotte was stubborn. She could tough this out if she tried. She had to. Her family was waiting back home.
She clutched her wounded eye before the rag was applied. "W-wait a sec, you don't have anything more sterile?" If anything, she knew a thing or two about first aid from having her own wounds treated, though her knowledge was decidedly limited. "If this gets infected, I... could..."
Charlotte opened her good eye, getting her first look at the source of the voice. Her guardian angel. Her beautiful, topless guardian angel.
"...Actually, stop the bleeding first. I'll just wash it later."
Textbook Charlotte, always one to see the bright side of things.
"Poor little Charlotte. It's too bad you're a dyke. I bet you'd be really popular with the boys now that you've got that extra hole in your face. But it's not all bad. Let me play you a sad song on the world's most average sized violin."
Fortunately, she didn't have it in her to go on another adrenaline kick and follow after Sally. Really, people, twice in five minutes with the D-bombs? It's freaking 2008, for heaven's sake.
She let out a bemused sigh. "Man. Some people..."
The pain was the only thing that kept the raging beast Charlotte had become from truly going berserk and killing everyone in the cabin with her bare hands. The pain, the blood, the filthy turtleneck held up next to her face -
Wait. Had that been there earlier?
"P...p-please hold still..."
Something in that voice brought Charlotte back down to earth. The gentleness of it, the way it trembled with fear, humanized her. It reminded her of what she fought for, like the passing glimpse of Owen and Bobby that had cost her an eye mere moments ago. It reminded her what she needed to protect.
Charlotte was Charlotte again.
The trouble was, the pain continued to be the pain. She'd taken her share of hits in her life, of course. Suffered plenty of cuts, and fought through them. It came with the territory. She lost a molar in a tournament last year, in a fight she ultimately won by knockout later in the same round. She broke her nose in another fight, one of her mere three defeats, though even then she went the distance and only lost by a split decision. This was another animal entirely. She wasn't going anywhere until the bleeding stopped. Still, whether she was fighting or going about her day to day business, one thing remained constant: Charlotte was stubborn. She could tough this out if she tried. She had to. Her family was waiting back home.
She clutched her wounded eye before the rag was applied. "W-wait a sec, you don't have anything more sterile?" If anything, she knew a thing or two about first aid from having her own wounds treated, though her knowledge was decidedly limited. "If this gets infected, I... could..."
Charlotte opened her good eye, getting her first look at the source of the voice. Her guardian angel. Her beautiful, topless guardian angel.
"...Actually, stop the bleeding first. I'll just wash it later."
Textbook Charlotte, always one to see the bright side of things.
"Poor little Charlotte. It's too bad you're a dyke. I bet you'd be really popular with the boys now that you've got that extra hole in your face. But it's not all bad. Let me play you a sad song on the world's most average sized violin."
Fortunately, she didn't have it in her to go on another adrenaline kick and follow after Sally. Really, people, twice in five minutes with the D-bombs? It's freaking 2008, for heaven's sake.
She let out a bemused sigh. "Man. Some people..."
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Killer_Moth†
- Posts: 259
- Joined: Sat Sep 01, 2018 8:22 am
Everything changed so quickly. Owen had run out after him, and Philip had chased off after. Bobby was seemingly forgotten in the confusion. And now that the immediate threat was gone, he knew he couldn't just leave Charlotte behind. Not after what she had done for him. He found himself heading back to the shack.
As he got back, he saw Sally leaving. Was Charlotte even still inside? He had to find out. Half dreading what he was going to see, he went to the door. Charlotte was lying, a pool of blood round her. And Petrushka was stood over her, her top off trying to stop the bleeding.
"Wow." He kicked himself mentally. The girl had obviously been seriously wounded, and that was all he could say. "Charlotte, Petrushka, can I help here? I owe you one, big time. Philip's gone, and I don't know where Owen is. I think we should move, in case he comes back to try and kill you for real. Can... can you stand?"
As he got back, he saw Sally leaving. Was Charlotte even still inside? He had to find out. Half dreading what he was going to see, he went to the door. Charlotte was lying, a pool of blood round her. And Petrushka was stood over her, her top off trying to stop the bleeding.
"Wow." He kicked himself mentally. The girl had obviously been seriously wounded, and that was all he could say. "Charlotte, Petrushka, can I help here? I owe you one, big time. Philip's gone, and I don't know where Owen is. I think we should move, in case he comes back to try and kill you for real. Can... can you stand?"
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Clio waited. And waited some more. She needed to be patient, wait out her turn. If she went in there, gun-ablazing, she didn't know what she was likely to face. A grenade launcher? A sword? A sword with a gun on it?
No, that would be stupid.
Still trying her best to remain stealthy, she started to move anti-clockwise around the small hut, looking for a way to see what was happening. There had to be a window, or an extra door, or something. Her eyes scanned each wall, and as she started to move around towards the north side of the hut, she found....
Bingo! A crack, possibly from negligence or bad weather, was striking it's way down the wall. She could see inside the hut now, and plan herself accordingly. Actually, there was a lot of things she would need to plan accordingly to the amount of people in the hut. She knew there were, so...would she wait to see if more than one person would remain?
Sliding over to the crack, almost tripping over a stray root in the ground, she watched the small group of people inside. One of them was.....Bobby?
The grip on her small gun started to loosen.
Bobby...I know you...I can't...can I?
Yes you can.
But...he's nice, isn't he? He's in GODspeed with me, I've spoken to him, and he wouldn't kill anyone! Not even...
You? Do you reckon every single person in that group would follow the Bible to every fucking line? This stuff wasn't meant for the bible kids, darling. It was meant for old religious farts in a country that was too cheap to adhere to old Italy's laws. They can preach all they want, but when it comes down to it, do you really think that not one of those Bible-head back in Gods old fan group would break that one little commandment just to see their parents again?
...Yes. It's what....it's what I would do.
And you've already shown that you're not like the rest of them. Chris, Allen, Brendan, Ivan, that girl, and the Irish guy all know that no-
STOP IT! WHAT DO YOU WANT WITH ME?
Well, what do you want? To live, or to die?
STOP IT!!!!!
Her brain racked with voice after voice after voice, telling her and pleading with her, Clio started to tear up again. Not from fear, but from pain. These voices....this wasn't her! She just wanted to go home again! She...she had to not care about anyone else! This was herself she was looking out for! What made them more important than her? She had every bit of right to want to live that they did!
But nothing more than these tears showed, as she watched from her own little crack, at the scene unfolding inside. Someone had left. Bobby, a Russian girl, and a girl on the ground were all that were left.
No, she wouldn't kill Bobby, no matter what those voices said.
At least not yet. Not today.
No, that would be stupid.
Still trying her best to remain stealthy, she started to move anti-clockwise around the small hut, looking for a way to see what was happening. There had to be a window, or an extra door, or something. Her eyes scanned each wall, and as she started to move around towards the north side of the hut, she found....
Bingo! A crack, possibly from negligence or bad weather, was striking it's way down the wall. She could see inside the hut now, and plan herself accordingly. Actually, there was a lot of things she would need to plan accordingly to the amount of people in the hut. She knew there were, so...would she wait to see if more than one person would remain?
Sliding over to the crack, almost tripping over a stray root in the ground, she watched the small group of people inside. One of them was.....Bobby?
The grip on her small gun started to loosen.
Bobby...I know you...I can't...can I?
Yes you can.
But...he's nice, isn't he? He's in GODspeed with me, I've spoken to him, and he wouldn't kill anyone! Not even...
You? Do you reckon every single person in that group would follow the Bible to every fucking line? This stuff wasn't meant for the bible kids, darling. It was meant for old religious farts in a country that was too cheap to adhere to old Italy's laws. They can preach all they want, but when it comes down to it, do you really think that not one of those Bible-head back in Gods old fan group would break that one little commandment just to see their parents again?
...Yes. It's what....it's what I would do.
And you've already shown that you're not like the rest of them. Chris, Allen, Brendan, Ivan, that girl, and the Irish guy all know that no-
STOP IT! WHAT DO YOU WANT WITH ME?
Well, what do you want? To live, or to die?
STOP IT!!!!!
Her brain racked with voice after voice after voice, telling her and pleading with her, Clio started to tear up again. Not from fear, but from pain. These voices....this wasn't her! She just wanted to go home again! She...she had to not care about anyone else! This was herself she was looking out for! What made them more important than her? She had every bit of right to want to live that they did!
But nothing more than these tears showed, as she watched from her own little crack, at the scene unfolding inside. Someone had left. Bobby, a Russian girl, and a girl on the ground were all that were left.
No, she wouldn't kill Bobby, no matter what those voices said.
At least not yet. Not today.
((GMing approved by Killer_Moth))
"Can you stand?"
"Ah, yeah, I think so."
Bobby reached down to help Charlotte up, slinging her arm over his shoulder to support her weight. The bleeding had slowed to a crawl with Petrushka's help, but the blood loss had left her a bit woozy, and the vision in her good eye started to blur as she rose to her feet. Heh, what, did you just stick behind in the shadows or something? I thought I told you to run for it. It might not have been smart on Bobby's part to stay, but damned if she wasn't glad he did. "I saw an infirmary on the map earlier. It shouldn't be far, it's just north of here. Might be somethin' there we can use." She turned to the other girl. "Petrushka, right? Do me a favor and see if you can grab my bag. We should get a head start, so we'll meet back up there, alright?"
With that, Charlotte stumbled off toward the infirmary with Bobby's assistance. She gave Petrushka a parting smile as the two departed. "We'll see you in a few."
((Charlotte Cave and Robert Barron continued in Filling Perscriptions))
"Can you stand?"
"Ah, yeah, I think so."
Bobby reached down to help Charlotte up, slinging her arm over his shoulder to support her weight. The bleeding had slowed to a crawl with Petrushka's help, but the blood loss had left her a bit woozy, and the vision in her good eye started to blur as she rose to her feet. Heh, what, did you just stick behind in the shadows or something? I thought I told you to run for it. It might not have been smart on Bobby's part to stay, but damned if she wasn't glad he did. "I saw an infirmary on the map earlier. It shouldn't be far, it's just north of here. Might be somethin' there we can use." She turned to the other girl. "Petrushka, right? Do me a favor and see if you can grab my bag. We should get a head start, so we'll meet back up there, alright?"
With that, Charlotte stumbled off toward the infirmary with Bobby's assistance. She gave Petrushka a parting smile as the two departed. "We'll see you in a few."
((Charlotte Cave and Robert Barron continued in Filling Perscriptions))
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Stark. While this handler hasn't been around in quite a while, should they return and wish to take custody of this account and/or its posts, they are welcome to do so by contacting staff.
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Super Llama†
- Posts: 339
- Joined: Sat Sep 01, 2018 7:39 am
Indecision and doubt plagued Petrushka's mind as she approached the one-eyed girl, her hands trembling as the realization came that if she didn't do this right, this girl could die, and it would be her fault. This, of course, did absolutely to help the situation. But still, at least the girl she followed here was still present, and with her help, maybe she could pull this off.
...and then the girl in question acted like a total bitch and ran off.
"ебена мать!" Petrushka cursed as she found herself facing this dilemma by herself, on the verge of tears as the pressure just kept piling up on top of her, higher and higher, until it felt like it would crush her. She wanted nothing more at this moment to just curl up into a ball and escape from reality, escape from this living hell she was in, and hopefully somebody else would come along and take this burden off her hands.
But that wasn't going to happen. This was her dilemma to face, and she was just going to have to power through it. Swallowing hard, she reached out with the shirt, trying to steady her hands as best she could. "P-please hold still..." She said, her voice quivering as she applied the shirt to the wound, pressing down. Soon, the spot began to turn red, the redness spreading, and panic began to well up again. Wasn't this supposed to work? Was she doing it wrong? This wasn't fair! She didn't have any proper medical training, but she had to deal with something like this!
Fortunately, she noticed that the red spot started to spread a lot more slowly, and then finally stopped altogether. Did she do it? Taking a deep breath, she pulled the shirt back and noticed that the one-eyed girl's bleeding had slowed greatly. It was working. Maybe if she kept it up a while longer...
But then she heard a voice behind her, and wheeled around to see one of the boys who had ran from the hut, and apparently returned to lend a hand. Petrushka suddenly realized that she'd been holding her breath, and wasn't even sure how long she'd done it. She let it go in a loud gasp, panting as all the fear and tension and such that she'd just crammed into a corner to deal with the situation at hand just exploded outward. She began to tremble again, tears pouring down her face as she fell back into a sitting position, letting the boy take over.
The anxiety quickly gave way to exhaustion. She felt like she should feel proud, or at least happy that she helped save someone's live, but instead she just felt dead tired. She wasn't sure if she could keep going like this. It had only been one day, and already she'd run into two players, witnessed someone die right in front of her, and had to save somebody else from joining that list. And it was bound to get even worse from here as the game really picked up. She was so exhausted she didn't even realize that she should probably be at least a bit embarrassed that the boy had caught her with her shirt off (or that she should apparently feel the same about the one-eyed girl.)
As the boy picked up the one-eyed girl, they apparently agreed to go off to some infirmary that was apparently on the island, and the one-eyed girl wanted her to carry her bag for her. Petrushka knew she should agree and follow after (safety in numbers, right?) But first she just wanted to sit and rest for a bit. She'd have to go back and get her own pack, too, as it had a fresh change of clothes, and walking around wearing a bloodstained shirt probably wasn't really going to endear her to anyone else she ran across.
"O...okay..." She said as she others took off. She just needed to rest...just for a little bit longer.
...and then the girl in question acted like a total bitch and ran off.
"ебена мать!" Petrushka cursed as she found herself facing this dilemma by herself, on the verge of tears as the pressure just kept piling up on top of her, higher and higher, until it felt like it would crush her. She wanted nothing more at this moment to just curl up into a ball and escape from reality, escape from this living hell she was in, and hopefully somebody else would come along and take this burden off her hands.
But that wasn't going to happen. This was her dilemma to face, and she was just going to have to power through it. Swallowing hard, she reached out with the shirt, trying to steady her hands as best she could. "P-please hold still..." She said, her voice quivering as she applied the shirt to the wound, pressing down. Soon, the spot began to turn red, the redness spreading, and panic began to well up again. Wasn't this supposed to work? Was she doing it wrong? This wasn't fair! She didn't have any proper medical training, but she had to deal with something like this!
Fortunately, she noticed that the red spot started to spread a lot more slowly, and then finally stopped altogether. Did she do it? Taking a deep breath, she pulled the shirt back and noticed that the one-eyed girl's bleeding had slowed greatly. It was working. Maybe if she kept it up a while longer...
But then she heard a voice behind her, and wheeled around to see one of the boys who had ran from the hut, and apparently returned to lend a hand. Petrushka suddenly realized that she'd been holding her breath, and wasn't even sure how long she'd done it. She let it go in a loud gasp, panting as all the fear and tension and such that she'd just crammed into a corner to deal with the situation at hand just exploded outward. She began to tremble again, tears pouring down her face as she fell back into a sitting position, letting the boy take over.
The anxiety quickly gave way to exhaustion. She felt like she should feel proud, or at least happy that she helped save someone's live, but instead she just felt dead tired. She wasn't sure if she could keep going like this. It had only been one day, and already she'd run into two players, witnessed someone die right in front of her, and had to save somebody else from joining that list. And it was bound to get even worse from here as the game really picked up. She was so exhausted she didn't even realize that she should probably be at least a bit embarrassed that the boy had caught her with her shirt off (or that she should apparently feel the same about the one-eyed girl.)
As the boy picked up the one-eyed girl, they apparently agreed to go off to some infirmary that was apparently on the island, and the one-eyed girl wanted her to carry her bag for her. Petrushka knew she should agree and follow after (safety in numbers, right?) But first she just wanted to sit and rest for a bit. She'd have to go back and get her own pack, too, as it had a fresh change of clothes, and walking around wearing a bloodstained shirt probably wasn't really going to endear her to anyone else she ran across.
"O...okay..." She said as she others took off. She just needed to rest...just for a little bit longer.
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the former handler Super Llama.
The situation seemed to be dissolving quickly. Whatever happened to the girl, which Clio could not see at all from her angle, seemed to be stopping. The girl on the ground....she was getting up now, with Bobby.
Well that's a relief. It makes my job...wait, my job? What am I thin-my job just that little bit easier, doesn''t it?
That was because the other girl had stayed behind. While the wounded girl and Bobby had left, the Russian girl, now holding a bloody shirt in her hand, had stayed behind, sitting down...and blocking Clio's view through the crack.
Time to move in.
She continued making her way clockwise around the cabin, and stopped at the east side to see Bobby and the girl, who's blood must now be on that shirt, leave. After a bit, it was hard to see them, and Clio began to move again.
That was, until her foot decided to screw up on her and hit a discarded plant pot on the ground.
The pot connected with her foot, and a crack resonated throughout the area. It wasn't her foot, hell if it was she wouldn't be standing right now, but it still hurt like hell. Close to yelling, but not as to not give away her prescence, she silently mouthed a scream, and clutched her foot in pain, hopping up and down in place like some strange 70's dancer.
ShitshitshitshitshitSHIT! Jesus Christ that....what the hell!?
In frustration, looking around for the source of the pain shooting around. In the ground, half-submerged, was the devious plant pot. In frustration with the whole, Clio ripped it out of the ground with her free hand, which was now no longer clutching her poor throbbing foot, and smashed it against the wall.
Well, there goes the element of surprise. Time to say hi.
In a frantic race to the front door, gun in hands, painful foot offsetting her balance, she made her way to the door and held her James Bond gun, barrel aimed right at the girl sitting in the small room.
"Hello there."
"Bag, weapon, you probably know the drill already."
Well that's a relief. It makes my job...wait, my job? What am I thin-my job just that little bit easier, doesn''t it?
That was because the other girl had stayed behind. While the wounded girl and Bobby had left, the Russian girl, now holding a bloody shirt in her hand, had stayed behind, sitting down...and blocking Clio's view through the crack.
Time to move in.
She continued making her way clockwise around the cabin, and stopped at the east side to see Bobby and the girl, who's blood must now be on that shirt, leave. After a bit, it was hard to see them, and Clio began to move again.
That was, until her foot decided to screw up on her and hit a discarded plant pot on the ground.
The pot connected with her foot, and a crack resonated throughout the area. It wasn't her foot, hell if it was she wouldn't be standing right now, but it still hurt like hell. Close to yelling, but not as to not give away her prescence, she silently mouthed a scream, and clutched her foot in pain, hopping up and down in place like some strange 70's dancer.
ShitshitshitshitshitSHIT! Jesus Christ that....what the hell!?
In frustration, looking around for the source of the pain shooting around. In the ground, half-submerged, was the devious plant pot. In frustration with the whole, Clio ripped it out of the ground with her free hand, which was now no longer clutching her poor throbbing foot, and smashed it against the wall.
Well, there goes the element of surprise. Time to say hi.
In a frantic race to the front door, gun in hands, painful foot offsetting her balance, she made her way to the door and held her James Bond gun, barrel aimed right at the girl sitting in the small room.
"Hello there."
"Bag, weapon, you probably know the drill already."