"Okay look, let me explain. "When I woke up I was- WHAT THE FUCK!"
Isabel jerked forward when the girl charged him. What on Earth was this girl thinking? He wasn't attacking her and he probably weighed more than two of her combind.
The other boy screamed more or less what Isabel had been thinking. The boy nonchalantly had his hand in his pocket as he looked on at the action.
"I'd definitely stay outta this one."
She searched him for a moment. It was the friendlier of the male voices from earlier. She sighed.
Well at least I found him. Only way way, too late.
Her attention was pulled back by a sound not unlike someone hitting a gong. The girl had been flung quite hard at a mirror. She gasped and ran forward.
"Stay down, I don't want to hurt you!"
Isabel skidded to a stop in front of the girl on the floor and held out her newly improved trumpet at arms length. Isabel didn't know if he would try to attack the girl, but she mostly stood in her position to prevent the girl from trying to get at him again.
"Idiot," she hissed down at the floor. "What were you thinking?"
You have now placed yourself in the line of fire for two unstable people. Let's hope it isn't the last thing you do.
"Okay. Let's talk," she said darkly, pointing the sharp end of her trumpet at his neck.
"We'll stand a better chance as a group. We started out on the wrong foot, I mean, I just don't want you all sticking me like a pig, I need to watch out for myself! "How about it guys? Let's form a regiment, yeah? Cut down on all this knife wielding..?"
"Yeah, we sure did start off on the wrong foot. If I may, I think I can pin point your mistake in dealing with me. I think it was when you screamed threats at me and tried to hide a god damn sword. Girls don't really like that, it's kind of aggressive."
This guy has a point. If we team up, we might last longer. But that's only if he doesn't give me a stomach full of metal when my guard is down.
She stared straight into his eyes, as though willing herself to try and read his thoughts. Self preservation. At least he was being honest in his intentions.
"....you tried to talk it out with these kids before she ran at you like she was a 250lb quarter back. So I think that whack to the head taught you a little about dealing with people."
Isabel let out a deep breath. She looked down for a fraction of a second, looked back up and lowered her trumpet-shank a few inches. Her pose, formerly tensed and leaning forward and waiting for attack, relaxed slightly. Isabel stood up straight and continued to try and learn his thoughts through the contours of his face.
"Fine," she said curtly. "But you better not try to stab me," she said wagging a finger at him.
Isabel didn't move from her position. She wasn't going to until she was sure this girl wasn't going to try anything.
Though judging by how hard she hit that mirror, I don't expect her running for at least a few minutes.
Mirror Mirror
Topic Closed
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Ruggahissy
- Posts: 1593
- Joined: Mon Aug 13, 2018 4:13 pm
"Yeah, I'd definitely say this'll en-" Dave heard a loud thwack and turned around, just in time to hear Roland cuss like a sailor and throw the emo chick into one of the mirrors.
"Holy Fuck!" Dave really couldn't think of anything else to say at that point. He quickly took his hand out of his pocket and jogged after the slightly more sane girl, who seemed to be rushing towards the emo chick. He stopped just next to her and looked down.
"Well," Dave looked around at Roland and the slightly more sane girl, before looking back down at the emo chick. It almost looked like she was out cold. "Maybe that'll knock some sense into her."
The slightly saner girl raised ...a trumpet? to Roland's neck, and Dave couldn't quite make out why Roland looked worried until he stepped to the side. Dave could suddenly see the reason he looked worried.
...That trumpet has a fucking bayonet on it.
"Shit, You'll take someone's eye out with that thing." Dave took a step back in case she decided to swing the damn thing instead of stabbing him in the neck.
Roland brought up the idea of teaming up, and Dave had to agree. The slightly saner girl seemed surprisingly up for it, given she was holding him at trumpet-shiv-point, but Dave guessed she could be trusted for at least long enough to get out of the goddamned mirror maze.
"Alright, I'm down with that, I guess. Strength in numbers and all that." Dave put his hand back in his pocket and felt for the knife. He managed to cut himself on the blade when he stuck his hand in, but he tried not to show it. No need to startle anyone and getting a sword, trumpet-shiv, or crazy triple nunchucks to the gut. "...just so long as Little Miss Sunshine over there ain't part of it."
"Holy Fuck!" Dave really couldn't think of anything else to say at that point. He quickly took his hand out of his pocket and jogged after the slightly more sane girl, who seemed to be rushing towards the emo chick. He stopped just next to her and looked down.
"Well," Dave looked around at Roland and the slightly more sane girl, before looking back down at the emo chick. It almost looked like she was out cold. "Maybe that'll knock some sense into her."
The slightly saner girl raised ...a trumpet? to Roland's neck, and Dave couldn't quite make out why Roland looked worried until he stepped to the side. Dave could suddenly see the reason he looked worried.
...That trumpet has a fucking bayonet on it.
"Shit, You'll take someone's eye out with that thing." Dave took a step back in case she decided to swing the damn thing instead of stabbing him in the neck.
Roland brought up the idea of teaming up, and Dave had to agree. The slightly saner girl seemed surprisingly up for it, given she was holding him at trumpet-shiv-point, but Dave guessed she could be trusted for at least long enough to get out of the goddamned mirror maze.
"Alright, I'm down with that, I guess. Strength in numbers and all that." Dave put his hand back in his pocket and felt for the knife. He managed to cut himself on the blade when he stuck his hand in, but he tried not to show it. No need to startle anyone and getting a sword, trumpet-shiv, or crazy triple nunchucks to the gut. "...just so long as Little Miss Sunshine over there ain't part of it."
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selphie_trabia†
- Posts: 197
- Joined: Sat Sep 01, 2018 7:51 am
((Apologise, Zetta. I will give up my turn on another thread if we ever end up together again. Sorry about that.))
Meredith slammed into Roland with as much force as she could muster. There was no way she was going to get stabbed by some military freak with a knife. Unfortunately, after the first hit, she'd been grabbed by Roland, then flung back at a mirror, which was fairly unexpected. She barely even had time to register the hit and the fact that there were other people in the room watching.
The really good thing about trapeze classes is that it taught you how to fall properly from a great height. Meredith instinctively tucked her chin in to her body to prevent her head from getting hit. As she swung backwards, she pulled her arms out in front of her and tried to wrap them around her body. The grip she had on her weapon made that difficult.
The really bad thing about trapeze classes is that they also teach you to do nothing when you fall. Gravity is a bitch and fighting against it does a person no good. When you fell from the bar, you just had to get into a tucked position, hoped your teacher had a good hold on the safety rope and roll so that you land on your back. Meredith did all of these things as quickly as she could.
The only problem was that she wasn't landing in a net and she certainly wasn't falling sideways as opposed to downwards. Her body struggled to adapt. Instead of twisting so her back hit the mirror, she somehow managed to half-twist so that she ended up turning sideways.
Meredith hit the mirror hard, shoulder first. She winced, feeling all the wind get knocked out of her lungs. The chains on her makeshift baton swung upwards, hitting and bruising her hand, then hit the glass. The resounding clatter of metal on glass/plastic, made it difficult for her to make out any conversation.
"Oof!" she gasped.
She wasn't sure what the hell had just happened, but the three were talking calmly and would probably stab her to death after they were done. Best to play dead for now. She took a step backwards before sliding down the mirror into a sitting position. Once on the ground, Meredith slumped forward, pretending that the blow had knocked her out. It was not a very good act, considering that it took her a quite some time to go from stumbling about to knocked out. That, and she still had a pretty tight grip on her weapon.
She could feel bruises forming on her shoulder and back. Trying not to hiss in pain, she continued to sit there, ready to fight if they were to attack.
Meredith slammed into Roland with as much force as she could muster. There was no way she was going to get stabbed by some military freak with a knife. Unfortunately, after the first hit, she'd been grabbed by Roland, then flung back at a mirror, which was fairly unexpected. She barely even had time to register the hit and the fact that there were other people in the room watching.
The really good thing about trapeze classes is that it taught you how to fall properly from a great height. Meredith instinctively tucked her chin in to her body to prevent her head from getting hit. As she swung backwards, she pulled her arms out in front of her and tried to wrap them around her body. The grip she had on her weapon made that difficult.
The really bad thing about trapeze classes is that they also teach you to do nothing when you fall. Gravity is a bitch and fighting against it does a person no good. When you fell from the bar, you just had to get into a tucked position, hoped your teacher had a good hold on the safety rope and roll so that you land on your back. Meredith did all of these things as quickly as she could.
The only problem was that she wasn't landing in a net and she certainly wasn't falling sideways as opposed to downwards. Her body struggled to adapt. Instead of twisting so her back hit the mirror, she somehow managed to half-twist so that she ended up turning sideways.
Meredith hit the mirror hard, shoulder first. She winced, feeling all the wind get knocked out of her lungs. The chains on her makeshift baton swung upwards, hitting and bruising her hand, then hit the glass. The resounding clatter of metal on glass/plastic, made it difficult for her to make out any conversation.
"Oof!" she gasped.
She wasn't sure what the hell had just happened, but the three were talking calmly and would probably stab her to death after they were done. Best to play dead for now. She took a step backwards before sliding down the mirror into a sitting position. Once on the ground, Meredith slumped forward, pretending that the blow had knocked her out. It was not a very good act, considering that it took her a quite some time to go from stumbling about to knocked out. That, and she still had a pretty tight grip on her weapon.
She could feel bruises forming on her shoulder and back. Trying not to hiss in pain, she continued to sit there, ready to fight if they were to attack.
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Little Boy†
- Posts: 256
- Joined: Sat Sep 01, 2018 4:47 am
Roland could feel his eyebrow twitch as Isabel launched into her little rant, the bayonet trombone pointed dangerously close to his neck. He was still breathing heavily from his near fatal altercation with Meredith. The girl lay on the floor, unmoving. She'd somehow managed to twist in midair, and took the brunt of the mirror smash on her shoulder. Roland prayed that would be enough and she wouldn't get back up for round 2.
Stupid girl, you actually thought you stood a chance against me? Don't get up. Do yourself a favor... Christ, do ME a favor.
"Yeah, we sure did start off on the wrong foot. If I may, I think I can pin point your mistake in dealing with me. I think it was when you screamed threats at me and tried to hide a god damn sword. Girls don't really like that, it's kind of aggressive."
Roland flinched. Isabel was REALLY getting pissed with him. He found himself growing increasingly irate as he continued to bite his tongue.
I chased after you, worried about you, and I get bitched at?
He sighed when she had finished and stepped back, grabbing his bags.
"In case you didn't realize Isabel, this is Survival of the Fittest. The chances of getting shot in the face while greeting someone has risen dramatically. Every action, every thought, from the moment you wake up needs to be planned to ensure survival. You can't just stumble about until someone beats your brains out with a tire iron. It's a darkened hallway, and you're standing there in front of someone, who may or may not be out to kill. They're holding something. Could it be a knife? A gun? Do you have time to find out before they run in an' blow your head off? What can you do? What can you say? 'Hi, don't kill me?' I took one hell of a chance on you, and it most likely saved your life."
Roland picked up his bag and glared angrily at Isabel. She still had the makeshift shiv pointed at him. It was making him angry. Didn't he already state his intentions?
"I heard you around that corner Isabel. I could have just as easily waited for you to turn around, then gut you like a fucking animal. I didn't though, because I know there is some way out of this, some way to beat this sick game and blow that fat motherfuckers' brains out. I also know that to take that cocksucker down, you can't go it alone. You need a team. Paranoia, fear, hatred, they're just as big an enemy as Danya. We're better then this. So put the fucking blade down already."
He glanced down towards Meredith, his disgust amplifying.
"People like Meredith, they're as good as fucked. They don't know it yet, but they've already succumbed to the game. They'll never make alliances, they'll never think with their heads and consider the possibility of escape, of working together. Even if they never mean to kill, soon they'll find themselves staring down the barrel of a 12 Gauge and wonder 'Could it have gone any other way?' "
He looked back towards Dave and Isabel, sizing them up. Did they understand what he was getting at? Did they have faith?
Isabel is a sharp one, she managed to make a trumpet deadly. If anyone knows what's really going down right now, it's her. Dave...? Fuck all if I can read him... Didn't exactly jump in to help when I got rushed. Is he trust worthy?
He shook his head and began to walk away towards the exit.
"Fuck this, you know where I stand. I highly advise you come with me, I'm your best chance from here on out."
Please, let them follow me God...
Stupid girl, you actually thought you stood a chance against me? Don't get up. Do yourself a favor... Christ, do ME a favor.
"Yeah, we sure did start off on the wrong foot. If I may, I think I can pin point your mistake in dealing with me. I think it was when you screamed threats at me and tried to hide a god damn sword. Girls don't really like that, it's kind of aggressive."
Roland flinched. Isabel was REALLY getting pissed with him. He found himself growing increasingly irate as he continued to bite his tongue.
I chased after you, worried about you, and I get bitched at?
He sighed when she had finished and stepped back, grabbing his bags.
"In case you didn't realize Isabel, this is Survival of the Fittest. The chances of getting shot in the face while greeting someone has risen dramatically. Every action, every thought, from the moment you wake up needs to be planned to ensure survival. You can't just stumble about until someone beats your brains out with a tire iron. It's a darkened hallway, and you're standing there in front of someone, who may or may not be out to kill. They're holding something. Could it be a knife? A gun? Do you have time to find out before they run in an' blow your head off? What can you do? What can you say? 'Hi, don't kill me?' I took one hell of a chance on you, and it most likely saved your life."
Roland picked up his bag and glared angrily at Isabel. She still had the makeshift shiv pointed at him. It was making him angry. Didn't he already state his intentions?
"I heard you around that corner Isabel. I could have just as easily waited for you to turn around, then gut you like a fucking animal. I didn't though, because I know there is some way out of this, some way to beat this sick game and blow that fat motherfuckers' brains out. I also know that to take that cocksucker down, you can't go it alone. You need a team. Paranoia, fear, hatred, they're just as big an enemy as Danya. We're better then this. So put the fucking blade down already."
He glanced down towards Meredith, his disgust amplifying.
"People like Meredith, they're as good as fucked. They don't know it yet, but they've already succumbed to the game. They'll never make alliances, they'll never think with their heads and consider the possibility of escape, of working together. Even if they never mean to kill, soon they'll find themselves staring down the barrel of a 12 Gauge and wonder 'Could it have gone any other way?' "
He looked back towards Dave and Isabel, sizing them up. Did they understand what he was getting at? Did they have faith?
Isabel is a sharp one, she managed to make a trumpet deadly. If anyone knows what's really going down right now, it's her. Dave...? Fuck all if I can read him... Didn't exactly jump in to help when I got rushed. Is he trust worthy?
He shook his head and began to walk away towards the exit.
"Fuck this, you know where I stand. I highly advise you come with me, I'm your best chance from here on out."
Please, let them follow me God...
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Ruggahissy
- Posts: 1593
- Joined: Mon Aug 13, 2018 4:13 pm
Isabel's mouth set in a thin line as she looked on at Roland. She glared at him and stood still in her non-combat stance. Her hand clenched the trumpet, but she kept it tilted down and away from his neck.
She listened to him talk about Survival of the Fittest and castigate her for her recklessness. He tried to justify his actions by laying them upon the situation. Inside her chest her heart felt like she was on a free fall ride at an amusment park. Her eyebrows came up and for a moment she looked as if she might cry. He was right. He was right about everything. Isabel hadn't had a free second to think about it long enough, but she was annoyed and angry that he was right.
Isabel didn't like that angry look he gave her. It was as if to say that he was doing her a favor and that it was a mistake for him to have worried over her. She didn't need him. She didn't need anyone. She never did.
"W-well, you could have been a little more calm about it!," she snapped. "You were looking at me like I had an "insert knife" sign on my chest."
Slowly, Isabel got down on her knees. She kept her eyes glued to Roland as she carefully set aside her trumpet-shiv. A moment of frozen silence passed between them when she looked up at Roland, on her knees and without her only weapon.
"You come at me and I swear I will haunt you forever."
She took a deep breath and turned to the girl on the floor. She grabbed her by her plastic-y top and rolled her so that she lay flat on her back. Isabel leaned in to put her ear up to the girl's chest. She let out a tension filled sigh and drew herself up from her. The girl was still gripping her weapon in one hand.
"I think she's going to be fine. You probably just knocked the wind out of her."
She leaned over, dragged Meredith's pack and put it under her head as a pillow.
"...just so long as Little Miss Sunshine over there ain't part of it."
"Hate to say it, but you guys are right. She's a liability. There's no telling when she could pull another Leeroy Jenkins and get us all killed. She should be fine here until she wakes up..."
Isabel trailed off, not wanting to dwell too long on abandoning a girl in the middle of a blood sport. She pushed the thought away.
"Okay. Let's get the hell out of here. If we stick close to the wall we should eventually find the emergency exit or a staff door out of here."
She listened to him talk about Survival of the Fittest and castigate her for her recklessness. He tried to justify his actions by laying them upon the situation. Inside her chest her heart felt like she was on a free fall ride at an amusment park. Her eyebrows came up and for a moment she looked as if she might cry. He was right. He was right about everything. Isabel hadn't had a free second to think about it long enough, but she was annoyed and angry that he was right.
Isabel didn't like that angry look he gave her. It was as if to say that he was doing her a favor and that it was a mistake for him to have worried over her. She didn't need him. She didn't need anyone. She never did.
"W-well, you could have been a little more calm about it!," she snapped. "You were looking at me like I had an "insert knife" sign on my chest."
Slowly, Isabel got down on her knees. She kept her eyes glued to Roland as she carefully set aside her trumpet-shiv. A moment of frozen silence passed between them when she looked up at Roland, on her knees and without her only weapon.
"You come at me and I swear I will haunt you forever."
She took a deep breath and turned to the girl on the floor. She grabbed her by her plastic-y top and rolled her so that she lay flat on her back. Isabel leaned in to put her ear up to the girl's chest. She let out a tension filled sigh and drew herself up from her. The girl was still gripping her weapon in one hand.
"I think she's going to be fine. You probably just knocked the wind out of her."
She leaned over, dragged Meredith's pack and put it under her head as a pillow.
"...just so long as Little Miss Sunshine over there ain't part of it."
"Hate to say it, but you guys are right. She's a liability. There's no telling when she could pull another Leeroy Jenkins and get us all killed. She should be fine here until she wakes up..."
Isabel trailed off, not wanting to dwell too long on abandoning a girl in the middle of a blood sport. She pushed the thought away.
"Okay. Let's get the hell out of here. If we stick close to the wall we should eventually find the emergency exit or a staff door out of here."
"Hate to say it, but you guys are right. She's a liability. There's no telling when she could pull another Leeroy Jenkins and get us all killed. She should be fine here until she wakes up..."
"Well, she can be a liability to the poor bastards who bump into her next, then." Dave looked around. Most of the noises had stopped now. He figured that if anyone else had been there they'd either packed up and left before they got there, or were still unconscious. "At least if she's unconscious she can't hurt anyone else, although I'd probably bet she's gonna go postal on her wrists with a razorblade after that one."
The slightly saner girl put the emo chick's pack under her head as a pillow, which struck Dave as sort've strange, really. He'd have thought she'd have taken it and found some other crazy musical instrument to turn into a lethal weapon.
"Not gonna take anything from her pack?" Dave asked. He wasn't really up for it, the emo chick probably didn't have anything of use aside from her triple nunchuck, and even that had sort've just been proved useless. "I mean, I wouldn't, but I wasn't sure about you guys... Sort've looked like something you'd do, is all."
Well, I guess that didn't win me over any points. Way to go, Stereotyping is awesome and all that shit.
Dave shrugged and waved goodbye to the unconscious emo chick, despite knowing full well she couldn't see him, before turning back around, just in case she was putting it on. She still hadn't moved, so Dave guessed she was out cold. He briefly took his hand out of his pocket, wiping the small trickle of blood from the tiny cut on his finger, before quickly taking the knife out and putting it back into his pocket, this time blade first.
"Fuck this, you know where I stand. I highly advise you come with me, I'm your best chance from here on out."
"Shit, man." Dave said, as Roland walked off. "Wait up, I'm coming with ya."
"Okay. Let's get the hell out of here. If we stick close to the wall we should eventually find the emergency exit or a staff door out of here."
"Sounds good to me, Let's go." Dave jogged a bit until he caught up and looked around a bit. He could sort've remember his way now. If this was like any fun fair Dave'd ever been to, the Exit sign over the door would've been glow in the dark anyway, so he guessed they'd find it eventually if they looked long enough. "Any longer in here and I think I'd probably go blind or some shit."
"Well, she can be a liability to the poor bastards who bump into her next, then." Dave looked around. Most of the noises had stopped now. He figured that if anyone else had been there they'd either packed up and left before they got there, or were still unconscious. "At least if she's unconscious she can't hurt anyone else, although I'd probably bet she's gonna go postal on her wrists with a razorblade after that one."
The slightly saner girl put the emo chick's pack under her head as a pillow, which struck Dave as sort've strange, really. He'd have thought she'd have taken it and found some other crazy musical instrument to turn into a lethal weapon.
"Not gonna take anything from her pack?" Dave asked. He wasn't really up for it, the emo chick probably didn't have anything of use aside from her triple nunchuck, and even that had sort've just been proved useless. "I mean, I wouldn't, but I wasn't sure about you guys... Sort've looked like something you'd do, is all."
Well, I guess that didn't win me over any points. Way to go, Stereotyping is awesome and all that shit.
Dave shrugged and waved goodbye to the unconscious emo chick, despite knowing full well she couldn't see him, before turning back around, just in case she was putting it on. She still hadn't moved, so Dave guessed she was out cold. He briefly took his hand out of his pocket, wiping the small trickle of blood from the tiny cut on his finger, before quickly taking the knife out and putting it back into his pocket, this time blade first.
"Fuck this, you know where I stand. I highly advise you come with me, I'm your best chance from here on out."
"Shit, man." Dave said, as Roland walked off. "Wait up, I'm coming with ya."
"Okay. Let's get the hell out of here. If we stick close to the wall we should eventually find the emergency exit or a staff door out of here."
"Sounds good to me, Let's go." Dave jogged a bit until he caught up and looked around a bit. He could sort've remember his way now. If this was like any fun fair Dave'd ever been to, the Exit sign over the door would've been glow in the dark anyway, so he guessed they'd find it eventually if they looked long enough. "Any longer in here and I think I'd probably go blind or some shit."
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selphie_trabia†
- Posts: 197
- Joined: Sat Sep 01, 2018 7:51 am
Meredith's unkempt hair did a fairly good job of hiding her eyes, which was a fairly good thing since they were wide open. Her heart was beating quickly, watching the other three people in the room.
Isabel grabbed her lapel. Not wanting to get sliced open with Isabel's shiv, Meredith let the other girl do as she wanted, relaxing her body to make it slightly difficult. She let out a slight "oof" as she hit the floor.
She wasn't sure she was going to be able to take them all on, but if they took her bag, she'd definitely have to defend her stuff. Meredith's hands tightened their grip on her weapon as the other girl touched her bag, but relaxed just a tiny bit as she watched the girl with the trumpet slide the bag under her head without opening it.
Meredith listened as they sized her up, made fun of her, insulted her and then just left her behind. She watched for a as Dave waved at her, then kept watching as he took out his weapon and resheathed it in his pocket. She watched them walk away. She realised, then, that she had made no friends at Bayview and that nobody, not even her own classmates, cared whether she lived or died.
As soon as they were out of her sight, Meredith rolled over onto her stomach and pushed herself up with her arms. She was alone now, she was frightened and she didn't want to be. In the darkness, she curled up and cried until she felt like she could cry no more. When she was done with that, she pulled her own bags towards her and rifled through them.
They hadn't touched her notebook or pen, thank goodness. She opened it up to the first page. She'd bought the "Sandman: Death" notebook from the Hot Topic store a while back, but she'd never written in it. Well, she had, but her poetry was so awful that she ripped the pages out. The book still had a number of pages left. Meredith put pen to paper. She knew who she'd write to now.
"Dear Rebecca..." she began.
Isabel grabbed her lapel. Not wanting to get sliced open with Isabel's shiv, Meredith let the other girl do as she wanted, relaxing her body to make it slightly difficult. She let out a slight "oof" as she hit the floor.
She wasn't sure she was going to be able to take them all on, but if they took her bag, she'd definitely have to defend her stuff. Meredith's hands tightened their grip on her weapon as the other girl touched her bag, but relaxed just a tiny bit as she watched the girl with the trumpet slide the bag under her head without opening it.
Meredith listened as they sized her up, made fun of her, insulted her and then just left her behind. She watched for a as Dave waved at her, then kept watching as he took out his weapon and resheathed it in his pocket. She watched them walk away. She realised, then, that she had made no friends at Bayview and that nobody, not even her own classmates, cared whether she lived or died.
As soon as they were out of her sight, Meredith rolled over onto her stomach and pushed herself up with her arms. She was alone now, she was frightened and she didn't want to be. In the darkness, she curled up and cried until she felt like she could cry no more. When she was done with that, she pulled her own bags towards her and rifled through them.
They hadn't touched her notebook or pen, thank goodness. She opened it up to the first page. She'd bought the "Sandman: Death" notebook from the Hot Topic store a while back, but she'd never written in it. Well, she had, but her poetry was so awful that she ripped the pages out. The book still had a number of pages left. Meredith put pen to paper. She knew who she'd write to now.
"Dear Rebecca..." she began.
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Little Boy†
- Posts: 256
- Joined: Sat Sep 01, 2018 4:47 am
It seemed like forever stumbling down the twisted passageway, but Roland finally breathed a sigh of relief when he felt his fingers grip a door handle. Throwing his weight into the partially stuck door, it budged free and Roland was relieved to feel the cool breeze on his face. Looking back inside he was equally relieved to see that Dave and Isabel hadn't lied, and were indeed following him.
He was equally relieved to see they didn't have their weapons out and were aiming for the back of his head. Roland barely managed to repress a shiver, stepping out into the daylight somewhat quickly.
You're overreacting Roland, overreacting. Yes, you shouldn't trust them per-say, but you're not going to convince them you've got things under control if you look back every ten seconds at them. They're your team now. Your squad. It's up to YOU to get them out of here.
"Over here," He called out to them. "Just head towards the light."
Roland looked around surveying the terrain. The wind blew his greasy black hair in his face, he pushed up his glasses and roughly slicked his hair back with his hand.
What now Roland, what now?....
Roland looked back towards the house of mirrors. As he stepped back, he was surprised at the sheer size of the building. It would have made an excellent base if he'd been given a layout of the building. It didn't much matter now however, the unconscious but most certainly pissed off Meredith Hemmings still lurked inside. Roland somehow doubted she'd be pleased to see him again.
Stupid, stupid bitch. Why didn't I kill her? I had full right to. I could've just killed her, they wouldn't have objected.. or maybe they... whatever. Let her sit alone and bore her reflection to death with her- her, horrible poems or whatever the shit she does for fun. She's not my problem anymore, I don't need to waste my valuable time thinking about some spazz who can't focus under pressure.
Roland still felt guilt resonate within him, but he pushed it down. He knew Meredith' chances of survival, especially coupled with such a terrible weapon and scatterbrained decision making, were nil. Within the next few days, she'd be dead. And Roland, her only real chance at survival was walking away.
She attacked me. It doesn't matter if I know her or not, she lost her chance then and there. Dwelling on the matter any more is stupidity. What you NEED to be thinking about is how you're going to get off this godforsaken rock...
Roland scratched his chin in thought, looking out in the distance. He could see a Ferris Wheel and some brightly colored shacks nearby. He cocked his eyebrow in momentary confusion before he put two and two together.
Ah. House of Mirrors, Carnival.
The Carnival... That'd be a good enough place to start searching. My Team isn't going to get far with some fancy cutlery and a shiv-trumpet. We need some firepower. Christ, I wonder if anyone got dropped with a M16? Maybe even an M4... Does anyone at Bayview even know how to operate firearms? Fuck, I'm the Military Kid with a hard-on for the Marine Corps and the most I've fired is a Benelli...
Better than some people at least. More likely to break your wrist rather than blow someones' brains out if you don't know what you're doing. Would half the people at Bayview even know how to load a gun? I wonder if they get dropped with a manual or if that fat fuck lets them figure it out on their own... Hmm. Best consider everyone armed and dangerous until intent can be proven.
Kronwall. Kronwall- yes- Nik, Nik knows how to fire a gun. Would he snap or could he keep his head? Or is he already dead? Does he even have a gun on him? Anyone else? Alex. She can't shoot for shit, or at all... but damn, she's useful. Yes. If I could find someone like them, or them. That would be ideal.
Roland found himself nervous thinking of Alex. He'd had enough trouble with Isabel earlier, who he had only a passing acquaintance with. Hell, he hated that goth bitch Meredith and he couldn't even bring himself to kill her. What if Alex attacked him, someone he was actually good friends with?
This is what Danya wants. Push it away Roland, you've got a Team now, and a job. A team that needs some new recruits.
He looked back to see the pair emerge into the daylight. He smiled at them and adjusted the pack on his back.
"Alright. We need some more people if we ever hope to be successful here. My bet is someone is kicking about in the Carnival, maybe even a group with similar intent. Looks to be a good place to start. Stay low just incase, try not to make any movement and follow my lead."
((Roland Harte continued in Break Up And Break Down))
He was equally relieved to see they didn't have their weapons out and were aiming for the back of his head. Roland barely managed to repress a shiver, stepping out into the daylight somewhat quickly.
You're overreacting Roland, overreacting. Yes, you shouldn't trust them per-say, but you're not going to convince them you've got things under control if you look back every ten seconds at them. They're your team now. Your squad. It's up to YOU to get them out of here.
"Over here," He called out to them. "Just head towards the light."
Roland looked around surveying the terrain. The wind blew his greasy black hair in his face, he pushed up his glasses and roughly slicked his hair back with his hand.
What now Roland, what now?....
Roland looked back towards the house of mirrors. As he stepped back, he was surprised at the sheer size of the building. It would have made an excellent base if he'd been given a layout of the building. It didn't much matter now however, the unconscious but most certainly pissed off Meredith Hemmings still lurked inside. Roland somehow doubted she'd be pleased to see him again.
Stupid, stupid bitch. Why didn't I kill her? I had full right to. I could've just killed her, they wouldn't have objected.. or maybe they... whatever. Let her sit alone and bore her reflection to death with her- her, horrible poems or whatever the shit she does for fun. She's not my problem anymore, I don't need to waste my valuable time thinking about some spazz who can't focus under pressure.
Roland still felt guilt resonate within him, but he pushed it down. He knew Meredith' chances of survival, especially coupled with such a terrible weapon and scatterbrained decision making, were nil. Within the next few days, she'd be dead. And Roland, her only real chance at survival was walking away.
She attacked me. It doesn't matter if I know her or not, she lost her chance then and there. Dwelling on the matter any more is stupidity. What you NEED to be thinking about is how you're going to get off this godforsaken rock...
Roland scratched his chin in thought, looking out in the distance. He could see a Ferris Wheel and some brightly colored shacks nearby. He cocked his eyebrow in momentary confusion before he put two and two together.
Ah. House of Mirrors, Carnival.
The Carnival... That'd be a good enough place to start searching. My Team isn't going to get far with some fancy cutlery and a shiv-trumpet. We need some firepower. Christ, I wonder if anyone got dropped with a M16? Maybe even an M4... Does anyone at Bayview even know how to operate firearms? Fuck, I'm the Military Kid with a hard-on for the Marine Corps and the most I've fired is a Benelli...
Better than some people at least. More likely to break your wrist rather than blow someones' brains out if you don't know what you're doing. Would half the people at Bayview even know how to load a gun? I wonder if they get dropped with a manual or if that fat fuck lets them figure it out on their own... Hmm. Best consider everyone armed and dangerous until intent can be proven.
Kronwall. Kronwall- yes- Nik, Nik knows how to fire a gun. Would he snap or could he keep his head? Or is he already dead? Does he even have a gun on him? Anyone else? Alex. She can't shoot for shit, or at all... but damn, she's useful. Yes. If I could find someone like them, or them. That would be ideal.
Roland found himself nervous thinking of Alex. He'd had enough trouble with Isabel earlier, who he had only a passing acquaintance with. Hell, he hated that goth bitch Meredith and he couldn't even bring himself to kill her. What if Alex attacked him, someone he was actually good friends with?
This is what Danya wants. Push it away Roland, you've got a Team now, and a job. A team that needs some new recruits.
He looked back to see the pair emerge into the daylight. He smiled at them and adjusted the pack on his back.
"Alright. We need some more people if we ever hope to be successful here. My bet is someone is kicking about in the Carnival, maybe even a group with similar intent. Looks to be a good place to start. Stay low just incase, try not to make any movement and follow my lead."
((Roland Harte continued in Break Up And Break Down))
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Ruggahissy
- Posts: 1593
- Joined: Mon Aug 13, 2018 4:13 pm
Isabel got up off of the floor and followed suit after the two boys. She turned her head one last time to see Meredith's body disappear behind the mirrors as she turned a corner. At the very least she was thankful to be at the end of the escape line. She didn't trust Roland with that weird sword. No telling when he would "accidentally" trip on something and, "Whoops!", Isabel would have a great new torso piercing.
"This place is making me dizzy," she murmured. Finding the exit was a welcomed relief in a day that had started out in the worst way possible .She stepped out of the exit after Dave and looked around where they found themselves.
"Holly molly. It's a carnival. That sick bastard's got a sense of humor doesn't he?" she observed flatly.
The wind picked up her curls and gently threw them against her shoulders. Her eyes blinked and squinted after coming from the dark into the light. Feeling self conscious for the first time since waking up, Isabel tugged down on her mini skirt, though the action was somewhat complicated by trying to hold onto her trumpet.
"I used to love carnivals," she said quietly.
Isabel was always moving as a little girl. The four year period she spent in St. Paul was the longest time she had ever stayed in any one place. But carnivals constantly traveled too, and no matter where she moved to the carnivals would always eventually come around.
I won that giant, smiling, plush banana at the squirt game last time at the carnival. Named it Partario.
"Partario....I'll name it that." She whispered looking down at her trumpet weapon.
Isabel brought her left hand up to her mouth and sucked on her little wound, trying to lick up the blood.
"Alright. We need some more people if we ever hope to be successful here. My bet is someone is kicking about in the Carnival, maybe even a group with similar intent. Looks to be a good place to start. Stay low just incase, try not to make any movement and follow my lead."
Her head whipped up at Roland when he mentioned a group. Isabel wasn't crazy about running around with more people. Big groups didn't really agree with her. She also wasn't crazy about this kid assuming that they would just follow whatever orders he dished out.
Just leave it for now, Isabel. You can always run off when they aren't looking.
She curtly nodded at Roland. Now that they were in proper light she could see that he was bleeding from where she had smacked him with Partario. After exiting the building she dropped her pack down for a breather. She leaned down trying to awkwardly negotiate Partario and her skirt once more, unzipped it and searched around for the first aid kit. She stood back up and gave Roland a band aid.
"Sorry I decked you," she said and hoisted the bag back onto her shoulder. "Ready to go?" she asked the other boy.
((Isabel Geurra continued in Break Up and Break Down))
"This place is making me dizzy," she murmured. Finding the exit was a welcomed relief in a day that had started out in the worst way possible .She stepped out of the exit after Dave and looked around where they found themselves.
"Holly molly. It's a carnival. That sick bastard's got a sense of humor doesn't he?" she observed flatly.
The wind picked up her curls and gently threw them against her shoulders. Her eyes blinked and squinted after coming from the dark into the light. Feeling self conscious for the first time since waking up, Isabel tugged down on her mini skirt, though the action was somewhat complicated by trying to hold onto her trumpet.
"I used to love carnivals," she said quietly.
Isabel was always moving as a little girl. The four year period she spent in St. Paul was the longest time she had ever stayed in any one place. But carnivals constantly traveled too, and no matter where she moved to the carnivals would always eventually come around.
I won that giant, smiling, plush banana at the squirt game last time at the carnival. Named it Partario.
"Partario....I'll name it that." She whispered looking down at her trumpet weapon.
Isabel brought her left hand up to her mouth and sucked on her little wound, trying to lick up the blood.
"Alright. We need some more people if we ever hope to be successful here. My bet is someone is kicking about in the Carnival, maybe even a group with similar intent. Looks to be a good place to start. Stay low just incase, try not to make any movement and follow my lead."
Her head whipped up at Roland when he mentioned a group. Isabel wasn't crazy about running around with more people. Big groups didn't really agree with her. She also wasn't crazy about this kid assuming that they would just follow whatever orders he dished out.
Just leave it for now, Isabel. You can always run off when they aren't looking.
She curtly nodded at Roland. Now that they were in proper light she could see that he was bleeding from where she had smacked him with Partario. After exiting the building she dropped her pack down for a breather. She leaned down trying to awkwardly negotiate Partario and her skirt once more, unzipped it and searched around for the first aid kit. She stood back up and gave Roland a band aid.
"Sorry I decked you," she said and hoisted the bag back onto her shoulder. "Ready to go?" she asked the other boy.
((Isabel Geurra continued in Break Up and Break Down))
"Ready as I'll ever be, I guess." Dave muttered to himself, keeping his hand in his pocket. He didn't think the others realised that he was armed yet. He was also sort've surprised that he was the only one holding a torch.
"Guys, you got glow in the dark eyes, or something?" Dave called out, finally noticing that they were at the way he'd came in. "Or am I the only one out of the three of us who was given a torch?"
Dave shrugged at the lack of reply and walked towards the door.
"Holly molly. It's a carnival. That sick bastard's got a sense of humor doesn't he?"
"...You didn't know?" Dave asked her, flicking the torch off as he stepped outside. "I sort've figured at least someone would've gotten tipped off that Halls of Mirrors and all that crap were at fun fairs. Or has that changed since I got here?"
The slightly saner girl muttered something, and then started sucking the back of her hand. Dave was gonna make a joke about vampires or something like that, but they were in the sunlight, and she wasn't burning up or sparkling yet, so he figured he was good.
"Alright. We need some more people if we ever hope to be successful here. My bet is someone is kicking about in the Carnival, maybe even a group with similar intent. Looks to be a good place to start. Stay low just incase, try not to make any movement and follow my lead."
"Sure, sounds good to me," Dave said, putting his hand over his eyes to see better. "Lets go see if anyone's around here, then."
((Dave Morrison, continued in Break Up and Break Down.))
"Guys, you got glow in the dark eyes, or something?" Dave called out, finally noticing that they were at the way he'd came in. "Or am I the only one out of the three of us who was given a torch?"
Dave shrugged at the lack of reply and walked towards the door.
"Holly molly. It's a carnival. That sick bastard's got a sense of humor doesn't he?"
"...You didn't know?" Dave asked her, flicking the torch off as he stepped outside. "I sort've figured at least someone would've gotten tipped off that Halls of Mirrors and all that crap were at fun fairs. Or has that changed since I got here?"
The slightly saner girl muttered something, and then started sucking the back of her hand. Dave was gonna make a joke about vampires or something like that, but they were in the sunlight, and she wasn't burning up or sparkling yet, so he figured he was good.
"Alright. We need some more people if we ever hope to be successful here. My bet is someone is kicking about in the Carnival, maybe even a group with similar intent. Looks to be a good place to start. Stay low just incase, try not to make any movement and follow my lead."
"Sure, sounds good to me," Dave said, putting his hand over his eyes to see better. "Lets go see if anyone's around here, then."
((Dave Morrison, continued in Break Up and Break Down.))
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selphie_trabia†
- Posts: 197
- Joined: Sat Sep 01, 2018 7:51 am
Meredith's handwriting was sloppy, but this time, she took the time to craft her letters carefully so that it was legible. Her eyes had adjusted to the darkness somewhat, so it wasn't as difficult, though she couldn't really make out the words she had written.
I have no idea if this is ever going to get to you. Meredith wrote, I'm stuck here and you're over there. Don't know how long I'll survive this game but I'm gonna be dead long before the end anyways. I hope whoever surivives gets this over to you though, but chances are slim. Just so you know, I still think that you suck and I still hate you.
Anyway, you're getting this so that you know how much crap it is when you know you're probably going to be dead in a few days. Remember Mrs Bishop? You used to make fun of her hair. Well, now she has no hair. Or face. Or head. They blew it open with a gun or something. Her brains splattered all over the glass wall, Rebecca. It was disgusting and now I can't stop thinking about it. I puked all over my clothes, it was so gross. I mean, I dreamt of torching the school before, but it was nothing like this.
I wonder if you're watching this show. I wonder if you even care that I'm gone. I can just imagine mom and dad talking about this at one of their stupid parties. "Oh, our little Rebecca is so perfect and our little Adrian is so perfect. Oh Meredith was in Survival of the Fittest. On television! She'll go far" and all that kinda crap.
Can you believe what a dumbass I was? I thought I'd be a hero, protect this other kid that was standing with me from some knife toting crazy, but I blew it badly and now everyone thinks I'm crazy. I guess that's what I wanted. I mean, I spent all of highschool wasting my time outside the school and being scary and shit, right? Freaking hell, they even insulted me after that stupid military brat smashed my shoulder into a wall.
It still hurts now.
I can't believe that I even want to go home right now. Not after spending all my time trying to not be at home and now I want to be in that stupid house with your stupid face and your stupid yelling at mom for your bullshit reasons and mom's stupid fawning over her perfect little son.
Anyway, I'm gonna go outside in a bit. Or maybe stay here in this stupid mirror house. I dunno.
Pandora Black
PS.
Meredith thought for a while, then scribbled another two words. "I'm scared". She wiped her eyes – she was already crying a little from just writing this.
She shut the book with a snap, then rummaged through her stuff, feeling around inside her bag for more things, trying to see what she'd been given. Most of her clothes were in the bags. They'd come in useful later, she supposed – half of it was vinyl and the other half were ripped T-shirts, denim jeans and lots of leather. The other bag contained bottled water, bread and crackers, a sizeable first aid kit, a folded up piece of paper, a compass, a torch and what seemed to be another book.
She pulled the latter out and clicked the torch open to read it for a while.
((ooc: Next post in 1 post cycle of Break up and Break Down, unless someone else enters the Mirror house))
I have no idea if this is ever going to get to you. Meredith wrote, I'm stuck here and you're over there. Don't know how long I'll survive this game but I'm gonna be dead long before the end anyways. I hope whoever surivives gets this over to you though, but chances are slim. Just so you know, I still think that you suck and I still hate you.
Anyway, you're getting this so that you know how much crap it is when you know you're probably going to be dead in a few days. Remember Mrs Bishop? You used to make fun of her hair. Well, now she has no hair. Or face. Or head. They blew it open with a gun or something. Her brains splattered all over the glass wall, Rebecca. It was disgusting and now I can't stop thinking about it. I puked all over my clothes, it was so gross. I mean, I dreamt of torching the school before, but it was nothing like this.
I wonder if you're watching this show. I wonder if you even care that I'm gone. I can just imagine mom and dad talking about this at one of their stupid parties. "Oh, our little Rebecca is so perfect and our little Adrian is so perfect. Oh Meredith was in Survival of the Fittest. On television! She'll go far" and all that kinda crap.
Can you believe what a dumbass I was? I thought I'd be a hero, protect this other kid that was standing with me from some knife toting crazy, but I blew it badly and now everyone thinks I'm crazy. I guess that's what I wanted. I mean, I spent all of highschool wasting my time outside the school and being scary and shit, right? Freaking hell, they even insulted me after that stupid military brat smashed my shoulder into a wall.
It still hurts now.
I can't believe that I even want to go home right now. Not after spending all my time trying to not be at home and now I want to be in that stupid house with your stupid face and your stupid yelling at mom for your bullshit reasons and mom's stupid fawning over her perfect little son.
Anyway, I'm gonna go outside in a bit. Or maybe stay here in this stupid mirror house. I dunno.
Pandora Black
PS.
Meredith thought for a while, then scribbled another two words. "I'm scared". She wiped her eyes – she was already crying a little from just writing this.
She shut the book with a snap, then rummaged through her stuff, feeling around inside her bag for more things, trying to see what she'd been given. Most of her clothes were in the bags. They'd come in useful later, she supposed – half of it was vinyl and the other half were ripped T-shirts, denim jeans and lots of leather. The other bag contained bottled water, bread and crackers, a sizeable first aid kit, a folded up piece of paper, a compass, a torch and what seemed to be another book.
She pulled the latter out and clicked the torch open to read it for a while.
((ooc: Next post in 1 post cycle of Break up and Break Down, unless someone else enters the Mirror house))
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selphie_trabia†
- Posts: 197
- Joined: Sat Sep 01, 2018 7:51 am
Meredith's hands shook as she finished reading the last word of the last page of the booklet. Furious, she threw the book down onto the ground and clicked the torch off.
She hated the book. She hated its condescending tone, as if it were mocking her and her situation. As if it were making fun of the atrocities that her classmates were going to commit just to survive. How could that... How could anyone treat this thing in such a blasé manner, as if it were something to laugh at? As if it were entertainment? She was dimly aware of her own hypocrisy in her attitude. She'd never paid attention to the games at all when she was back in Bayview. Why hadn't she done anything about it when she was alive?
Angry with herself and with the futility of her situation, Meredith fell upon the booklet and began to destroy it. She threw it against a mirror, stepped on it, tore it into little shreds and threw the resulting confetti around. She tried to cry again, but realised that she had already long since run out of tears. She screamed angrily, then lay down in a fetal position. Exhausted with all her screaming and crying, she closed her eyes momentarily and dozed off for a minute or two.
When she awoke, she found herself still in the mirror room, surrounded by shreds of paper and her things. The notebook on the floor drew her attention. She opened it up and reread the letter she wrote.
She wondered how many other kids would die on this island without having their thoughts heard.
She opened the book and tore out the first page. There were plenty more pages behind it. Picking up her pen, she began to write, using the torch to help light up her paper.
Meredith knew what she had to do and nobody was going to stop her.
((Exit post in 1 post cycle of Break up and Break down unless someone else enters or starts in the Mirror House))
She hated the book. She hated its condescending tone, as if it were mocking her and her situation. As if it were making fun of the atrocities that her classmates were going to commit just to survive. How could that... How could anyone treat this thing in such a blasé manner, as if it were something to laugh at? As if it were entertainment? She was dimly aware of her own hypocrisy in her attitude. She'd never paid attention to the games at all when she was back in Bayview. Why hadn't she done anything about it when she was alive?
Angry with herself and with the futility of her situation, Meredith fell upon the booklet and began to destroy it. She threw it against a mirror, stepped on it, tore it into little shreds and threw the resulting confetti around. She tried to cry again, but realised that she had already long since run out of tears. She screamed angrily, then lay down in a fetal position. Exhausted with all her screaming and crying, she closed her eyes momentarily and dozed off for a minute or two.
When she awoke, she found herself still in the mirror room, surrounded by shreds of paper and her things. The notebook on the floor drew her attention. She opened it up and reread the letter she wrote.
She wondered how many other kids would die on this island without having their thoughts heard.
She opened the book and tore out the first page. There were plenty more pages behind it. Picking up her pen, she began to write, using the torch to help light up her paper.
Meredith knew what she had to do and nobody was going to stop her.
((Exit post in 1 post cycle of Break up and Break down unless someone else enters or starts in the Mirror House))
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Sunnybunny
- Posts: 384
- Joined: Fri May 17, 2019 7:35 pm
B039: START
Because he wanted to do at least one thing with his classmates. Because he didn't want to stay home with his parents. Because the hottest chicks in his class would be struting their stuff around him. Because it was just one trip.
Yeah, those were all good reasons to die.
Scott had spent years being worried only about the almighty dollar. It had served him well. People weren't worried about him, he wasn't worried about them. That was the way it was, and after graduation, he'd never have to see those kids again. But there was a terrorist organization, and a hi-jacked bus, and some blown-up teachers (head on the desk, never saw it coming, just heard the shots and the screams) and here he was. And his money, his artistic talent, his future, didn't mean a damn thing anymore. Which, he quickly decided, was fine by him.
He had been so damn tired, straining to have a future, to be rich, to be great. And now? All Scott McGregor had to do was survive. Not easy, but it was simple. There wasn't anyone here that he wanted to go home more than himself. All his real friends were at home, most likely taking bets on what day he died and cheering him on. Hell, they all did that. SOTF marathons were a mainstay for the gang. But he was here now.
He had wandered in here from the carnvial, waiting on the people to leave for him to come in. No sense in making friends (who would weaken his resolve to be last man standing) or enemies (dying was not something he wanted to do). He'd just rest in here for a while. Taking out a piece of bread from his rations, he wondered what the next step would be.
Because he wanted to do at least one thing with his classmates. Because he didn't want to stay home with his parents. Because the hottest chicks in his class would be struting their stuff around him. Because it was just one trip.
Yeah, those were all good reasons to die.
Scott had spent years being worried only about the almighty dollar. It had served him well. People weren't worried about him, he wasn't worried about them. That was the way it was, and after graduation, he'd never have to see those kids again. But there was a terrorist organization, and a hi-jacked bus, and some blown-up teachers (head on the desk, never saw it coming, just heard the shots and the screams) and here he was. And his money, his artistic talent, his future, didn't mean a damn thing anymore. Which, he quickly decided, was fine by him.
He had been so damn tired, straining to have a future, to be rich, to be great. And now? All Scott McGregor had to do was survive. Not easy, but it was simple. There wasn't anyone here that he wanted to go home more than himself. All his real friends were at home, most likely taking bets on what day he died and cheering him on. Hell, they all did that. SOTF marathons were a mainstay for the gang. But he was here now.
He had wandered in here from the carnvial, waiting on the people to leave for him to come in. No sense in making friends (who would weaken his resolve to be last man standing) or enemies (dying was not something he wanted to do). He'd just rest in here for a while. Taking out a piece of bread from his rations, he wondered what the next step would be.
VII
G071 - Sakurako Adina Jackson - i'll be ready every day / for as long as i can say / here I am in the future with my friends
VIII
Dancing Shoes
Bare Knuckles
Wild Horses
G071 - Sakurako Adina Jackson - i'll be ready every day / for as long as i can say / here I am in the future with my friends
VIII
Dancing Shoes
Bare Knuckles
Wild Horses
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selphie_trabia†
- Posts: 197
- Joined: Sat Sep 01, 2018 7:51 am
Meredith put her pen in her pencil box, then put the pencil box away. She stowed the book in one of her bags and then started to pack or unpack. She already knew she only needed one bag to survive. Anything that she didn't really need - spare clothes and the like, were removed and placed on the floor of the mirror house.
By the time she was done, she'd stripped her inventory down to the basics - rations, a pencil box, the notebook, her weapon and the first aid kit. The bag was still heavy with the weight of the water she was carrying, but nothing she couldn't handle.
The mirror house was going to act as her base of operations. She'd leave most of her useless stuff here, but keep everything else - and maybe stop by in the mirror house for sleep at night. If it was anything like a normal mirror house, it would probably have an entrance and an exit. She'd better get to know this place well if she wanted to keep herself protected. If she was to succeed, she'd probably want to keep an ear out for the morning announcements too.
Meredith drained half of one of the water bottles she had in her pack as she walked aimlessly around the mirror house. Most of the others had left and she hadn't really sensed the presence of anyone entering the vicinity. The place was kind of labyrinthine, but her eyes had already adjusted to the darkness.
Something made a loud crunching sound underneath her boots. She looked around and identified it as glass from a broken mirror.
It gave her an idea.
By the time she was done, she'd stripped her inventory down to the basics - rations, a pencil box, the notebook, her weapon and the first aid kit. The bag was still heavy with the weight of the water she was carrying, but nothing she couldn't handle.
The mirror house was going to act as her base of operations. She'd leave most of her useless stuff here, but keep everything else - and maybe stop by in the mirror house for sleep at night. If it was anything like a normal mirror house, it would probably have an entrance and an exit. She'd better get to know this place well if she wanted to keep herself protected. If she was to succeed, she'd probably want to keep an ear out for the morning announcements too.
Meredith drained half of one of the water bottles she had in her pack as she walked aimlessly around the mirror house. Most of the others had left and she hadn't really sensed the presence of anyone entering the vicinity. The place was kind of labyrinthine, but her eyes had already adjusted to the darkness.
Something made a loud crunching sound underneath her boots. She looked around and identified it as glass from a broken mirror.
It gave her an idea.
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler selphie_trabia. 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.
[D-Day --> Steve]
With the glare of the sun giving him a headache, both from it's brightness causing him to squint and it's heat on his brow, Steve was barely sure where he was going. He'd just barely snapped himself out of a nihilistic breakdown a few minutes beforehand, the gravity of his situation was just about done sinking in, and for fuck's sake if his hair got stuck in front of his face by sweat one more damn time...
With a vigourous shake, the troubled boy cleared his field of vision for the umpteenth time, though this time there was actually something interesting in it. Interesting as in not potentially life-threatening, like the unstable-looking situation he'd hastened past back at the leisure green. What he saw now seemed to be some kind of small house, with two floors one main entrance. What he didn't see was the powered-down sign above the door, indicating that it was no ordinary house. Under normal conditions, he'd have decided to steer clear of the potential mind-fuck of a hall of mirrors, but his still-recovering mind told him the building would be a fine place to hole up and rest in.
And so, still creeping more than walking, Steve approached the doors. He pushed one ajar, and peered inside. The interior was illuminated by sunlight streaming through the open door, but as soon as he closed that entrance, the maze would be a nightmare to navigate. By now, he'd told himself "So it's a mirror house, might as well stay here anyway now you're here. Besides, maybe it'll put other people off?"
The thought process seemed sound enough, so he found the flashlight in his daypack and turned it on, closed the door, and made his way inside. The first thing he saw; a fellow student, Scott something - or his reflection. Odd kind of kid, Steve had seen him around the art rooms pretty frequently, keeping himself to himself and drawing impressive but unusual art. Steve had never made a concerted effort to get to know him, having realised early on that the guy seemed to prefer being by himself. Heck, he couldn't even remember his surname, other than it was one of those Mc or O' ones.
Despite his demeanour back at Bayview, Steve had never found Scott to be very threatening, and seeing him here, alone, enjoying some bread, he was quite sure he'd found someone who'd managed to keep calm. Someone he could talk to, calm himself down with, and just generally relax until the inevitable arrival of someone less pleasant. The last part of that plan was hardly pleasant, but on the whole, it was more appealing than running around at random. Steve crossed the room to where Scott sat, and attempted a casual-sounding greeting. It came out a lot more strained, cautious, untrusting. Hard to blame him really.
"Eh... Scott, right?"
With the glare of the sun giving him a headache, both from it's brightness causing him to squint and it's heat on his brow, Steve was barely sure where he was going. He'd just barely snapped himself out of a nihilistic breakdown a few minutes beforehand, the gravity of his situation was just about done sinking in, and for fuck's sake if his hair got stuck in front of his face by sweat one more damn time...
With a vigourous shake, the troubled boy cleared his field of vision for the umpteenth time, though this time there was actually something interesting in it. Interesting as in not potentially life-threatening, like the unstable-looking situation he'd hastened past back at the leisure green. What he saw now seemed to be some kind of small house, with two floors one main entrance. What he didn't see was the powered-down sign above the door, indicating that it was no ordinary house. Under normal conditions, he'd have decided to steer clear of the potential mind-fuck of a hall of mirrors, but his still-recovering mind told him the building would be a fine place to hole up and rest in.
And so, still creeping more than walking, Steve approached the doors. He pushed one ajar, and peered inside. The interior was illuminated by sunlight streaming through the open door, but as soon as he closed that entrance, the maze would be a nightmare to navigate. By now, he'd told himself "So it's a mirror house, might as well stay here anyway now you're here. Besides, maybe it'll put other people off?"
The thought process seemed sound enough, so he found the flashlight in his daypack and turned it on, closed the door, and made his way inside. The first thing he saw; a fellow student, Scott something - or his reflection. Odd kind of kid, Steve had seen him around the art rooms pretty frequently, keeping himself to himself and drawing impressive but unusual art. Steve had never made a concerted effort to get to know him, having realised early on that the guy seemed to prefer being by himself. Heck, he couldn't even remember his surname, other than it was one of those Mc or O' ones.
Despite his demeanour back at Bayview, Steve had never found Scott to be very threatening, and seeing him here, alone, enjoying some bread, he was quite sure he'd found someone who'd managed to keep calm. Someone he could talk to, calm himself down with, and just generally relax until the inevitable arrival of someone less pleasant. The last part of that plan was hardly pleasant, but on the whole, it was more appealing than running around at random. Steve crossed the room to where Scott sat, and attempted a casual-sounding greeting. It came out a lot more strained, cautious, untrusting. Hard to blame him really.
"Eh... Scott, right?"
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Chib. 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.