On June 21st, 2005 the lives of hundreds of children where changed when the plane U33 from New York City airport was hijacked and then put on a deserted island somewhere in the pacific. The children where saved of course and after their families received compensation they where sent to live productive lives and ignored (despite the various movie deals and appearances on Oprah) by the American public after their fifteen minutes of fame had passed.
Now let us fast-forward fifteen years, it is June 19th, 2020 and the survivors of Survival Of The Fittest gather for their first TV. Appearance together in ten years, however that is not for two days and it still leaves the survivors to socialize and catch up on what they have been doing for the past fifteen years, have they moved on? Do they still dream about the island…one thing is for sure this is sure to be great TV.
----------------
Think of this like After Math, the same rules apply here as they did there except it is fifteen years into the future, elaborate on what you have been doing for the past fifteen years, does your character have children? Are they famous? This is just some crazy idea I got, now don’t worry guys I will be posting a post with a non-suicidal Vince soon enough.
What do you plan on doing in fifteen years?
Fifteen years after SOTF
What do you plan on doing in fifteen years?
"My man got too familiar and I’d ended up having to whoop his ass, man, you know. Because he would step across the line. Habitually. He’s a habitual line stepper.” -Charlie Murphy
V8 Relationship Thread
Slidin'
Lookin' for the opps, they been hidin'
I grew up 'round drugs, sex, and violence
We turnt off they street, we heard sirens
Since a juvenile, I been wylin'
Slidin'
Lookin' for the opps, they been hidin'
I grew up 'round drugs, sex, and violence
We turnt off they street, we heard sirens
Since a juvenile, I been wylin'
-
LadyMakaze†
- Posts: 475
- Joined: Fri Aug 17, 2018 9:48 pm
In the rather grandiose lobby of the well-reputed hotel, where people of all walks and ages were going about their business, automatic doors parted to let a newcomer step in through the entrance. Madelaine, now well past her thirty-first birthday yet still having the demure and stately appearance she had in her younger years, made her way towards the front desk with her luggage in hand. Having volunteered to check-in first and bring in some of the luggage, she now looked around curiously as she waited in line, adjusting the sleeves of her overcoat.
So this is where we're to stay, she thought to herself, looking around in mild interest at all the people, looking for a familiar face. It was a rather nice place, she had to admit, though they were a bit ornate and extravagant for her taste. But at the very least, she was glad she wasn't the one paying for this.
Truth to be told, she was somewhat anxious about the whole thing...having to travel all the way here and stay in a hotel, awaiting the moment where she and 'the others' would have to experience the somewhat unsettling feeling of making a TV appearance. What's more...they would have to talk about certain things. Things that Madelaine struggled so hard to bury in the past for fifteen years, in order to get a move on with her new life. And now they would resurface again, memories of death and killing instilled within those who had endured the terrifying ordeal known as SOTF.
Madelaine bit on her lip slightly, feeling somewhat uneasy about the whole thing. The worst things that ever happened to her had happened fifteen years ago, when she was on that island. And now, in two days, she would have to relive them...each and every single event. The very prospect was unnerving at best.
Has it really been fifteen years...?
But at the very least, she would be able to meet some of her friends again. It would be like the old days, just spending time together with the very people who had helped her survive that ordeal. It was because of them that she was standing here now, worrying over the smallest of things. She smiled at this thought. Of course, it wasn't like she hadn't been associating with them over the last years. Her friends were one of the most important things to her, as far as she was concerned. It was just that, over the years, she had gotten somewhat preoccupied...
Madelaine noticed just then that she had reached the front desk. It was then that she explained to the receptionist, keeping her voice low so that no one else around her would here, that she was here on a provided reservation. As if on cue, the receptionist immediately handed her a form, and Madelaine, blinking slightly in surprise, took it as a prompt to sign it.
She filled in the first line with her name, 'Madelaine Faust'.
After finishing checking in, and receiving the room keys from the receptionist, she stood to the side a bit, holding the suitcase with both hands in front of her, quietly waiting for a certain person. At the same time she looked around for any familiar face, anxious to meet her friends again.
We'll all have a lot to catch up on...
So this is where we're to stay, she thought to herself, looking around in mild interest at all the people, looking for a familiar face. It was a rather nice place, she had to admit, though they were a bit ornate and extravagant for her taste. But at the very least, she was glad she wasn't the one paying for this.
Truth to be told, she was somewhat anxious about the whole thing...having to travel all the way here and stay in a hotel, awaiting the moment where she and 'the others' would have to experience the somewhat unsettling feeling of making a TV appearance. What's more...they would have to talk about certain things. Things that Madelaine struggled so hard to bury in the past for fifteen years, in order to get a move on with her new life. And now they would resurface again, memories of death and killing instilled within those who had endured the terrifying ordeal known as SOTF.
Madelaine bit on her lip slightly, feeling somewhat uneasy about the whole thing. The worst things that ever happened to her had happened fifteen years ago, when she was on that island. And now, in two days, she would have to relive them...each and every single event. The very prospect was unnerving at best.
Has it really been fifteen years...?
But at the very least, she would be able to meet some of her friends again. It would be like the old days, just spending time together with the very people who had helped her survive that ordeal. It was because of them that she was standing here now, worrying over the smallest of things. She smiled at this thought. Of course, it wasn't like she hadn't been associating with them over the last years. Her friends were one of the most important things to her, as far as she was concerned. It was just that, over the years, she had gotten somewhat preoccupied...
Madelaine noticed just then that she had reached the front desk. It was then that she explained to the receptionist, keeping her voice low so that no one else around her would here, that she was here on a provided reservation. As if on cue, the receptionist immediately handed her a form, and Madelaine, blinking slightly in surprise, took it as a prompt to sign it.
She filled in the first line with her name, 'Madelaine Faust'.
After finishing checking in, and receiving the room keys from the receptionist, she stood to the side a bit, holding the suitcase with both hands in front of her, quietly waiting for a certain person. At the same time she looked around for any familiar face, anxious to meet her friends again.
We'll all have a lot to catch up on...
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler LadyMakaze. 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.
Vince Samsa the foot ball star had grown accustomed to fancy hotels and has he walked in to the hotel everyone seemed to notice the four rings on his right hand, signifying the victories his team had seen. Vince recollected on what happened after SOTF, he had graduated 4th in the class and went to University Of Miami where he majored in Children’s Psychology. He played for the Hurricanes and won the Heisman trophy, he was sent to play for the New York Jets when he graduated and lead the team to four super bowl wins in a row.
After years of psychological therapy he had all but forgotten SOTF and his mothers death, he wondered why had he agreed to do this? He wanted to meet the survivors, he wanted to say hi to them and as he saw Madelaine a girl who he had very little relation with in high school, but knew she participated in SOTF he smiled…people where coming to this ridiculous show. Madelaine probably knew him, but he would be surprised if she cared he was here, but what could it hurt to say hi.
He smiled has he walked up and said “Well it is good to see a semi-familiar face…”
After years of psychological therapy he had all but forgotten SOTF and his mothers death, he wondered why had he agreed to do this? He wanted to meet the survivors, he wanted to say hi to them and as he saw Madelaine a girl who he had very little relation with in high school, but knew she participated in SOTF he smiled…people where coming to this ridiculous show. Madelaine probably knew him, but he would be surprised if she cared he was here, but what could it hurt to say hi.
He smiled has he walked up and said “Well it is good to see a semi-familiar face…”
"My man got too familiar and I’d ended up having to whoop his ass, man, you know. Because he would step across the line. Habitually. He’s a habitual line stepper.” -Charlie Murphy
V8 Relationship Thread
Slidin'
Lookin' for the opps, they been hidin'
I grew up 'round drugs, sex, and violence
We turnt off they street, we heard sirens
Since a juvenile, I been wylin'
Slidin'
Lookin' for the opps, they been hidin'
I grew up 'round drugs, sex, and violence
We turnt off they street, we heard sirens
Since a juvenile, I been wylin'
The hustle and bustle of the crowded hotel was apparent, and for many, it was simply the normalcy of a hotel. The hotel staff, of course, were used to it. It was the hustle and bustle that was a part of their jobs, and a part of their lives, for it were the people that came and went that provided them a place to work, and in return, they turned that place into a temporary lodging. For most people, the busy atmosphere of the hotel was either a nuisance, or something that most people took for granted. So it was without much thought that the majority of people moved around the hotel, preparing for whatever business caused them to come to it.
The latest noteworthy item that involved this particular hotel was the gathering of the survivors of Survival of the Fittest, something that most of the world-wide press would be covering. Of the survivors, most were expected to attend, for the organizers of the event had attempted to contact each and every former student in the hopes of getting every surviving person at the hotel for the first ever television appearance. It was said to be a heavy task, being as there WERE quite a few survivors, and some of them were said to have either refused, or become unreachable. Some had died of natural causes, and some had simply moved on and not wanted to move back. Several of the students had simply vanished, seemingly off the face of the planet, so the organizers had decided to cease at a point, the efforts of contacting them all. Many of the surviving students who were considered 'key players' in the events were supposed to be showing up, and most of the United States couldn't help but wonder what their former favourite players were up to. Most had remained at least somewhat in the public eye, some doing appearances at charity functions, others getting interviewed. The press remained constant for a long time, but when the proverbial 'fifteen minutes' was up, much of the attention vanished.
The attention, however, returned when some of the students were the subject of a 'where are they now?' column that peaked interest about the event again, and speculated as to what the impact of the event was on the students who experienced it. It was then that the reunion was born. Most of the students whose whereabouts were known had agreed to appear, so the event was being heavily monitored by the press and the paparazzi reared its ugly head once again.
In the original aftermath of the incident, the press had focused heavily on what had happened to one of the more popular survivors, a student who had simply up and vanished not a week after the event. Many speculated that Adam Dodd had been unable to deal with the actions that had happened, and even more after a time began to believe that the boy had simply wandered to some remote location and had killed himself. Not even his parents had any contact with him, and it had seemed that nobody knew where he was. Dodd was one of the students that had not been contacted, mainly because nobody knew his whereabouts, or even if he were still alive. Many different people speculated about his fate, and it even became the basis for a made-for-TV movie that bombed critically in the ratings. For all intents and purposes, the fate of one of SOTF's most popular students was a mystery, one that not even the other students were ever able to solve. After the first few years, the mystery of Adam Dodd faded slowly into the past.
That was why, when a slim, thirty-year old redhead carrying a small black duffel bag over his shoulder, clad in a blue pair of jeans, a green t-shirt bearing the logo of an oldies band, covered by an open, button-up tan overshirt stepped into the lobby of the hotel, nobody at all noticed him. To everyone else in the hotel, he was simply just another person. Another face in the crowd, and yet another person going about their business. His red hair was cut short, and his goatee was neatly trimmed. The stubble that lined the rest of his face was dark red, and the expression on his face was a slightly uncomfortable one. This man did not like crowds, and in fact was not used to them. His brown eyes held a deeply intelligent stare, and the sense that there was ever-so-much on the mind of this man.
Of course, as he stepped into the lobby of the hotel, having emerged from the TAXI that had brought him from the airport, nobody noticed.
Taking a deep breath, he absentmindedly scratched the stubble on his cheek, and glanced at his watch. It was 2:30 pm, and everyone inside of the lobby seemed to preoccupied with themselves to notice anyone but themselves. The hotel staff went about their duties, and businessmen and women talked on their cell phones. Some were checking in, and others checking out. The man couldn't help but watch in an almost sense of wonder as everyone hurried around.
Shaking his head a bit, he sighed, knowing full well that soon enough, that lack of attention would vanish, potentially forever, and that in a very short while, everyone who had been going about their business, ignoring him as they did, well...a great many would stare where once they had walked on by. As he stepped up to the front desk, he glanced out of the corner of his eye and saw several people, speaking with the hotel clerks. For a brief second, he turned his head to glance at a form that the woman beside him was filling out. So many forms, and to the man, it all seemed so silly that such a long process was needed for such a simple thing as getting a hotel room.
He knew that very shortly, his past was going to catch up with him, both that he wanted to forget, and that which he had tried so hard to remember. People he had never wanted to leave behind, but had never really had much of a choice.
As the hotel clerk glanced at him, the man quietly mumbled that he had a reservation. The clerk looked at him again, inquiring about the name of the reservation. The man obliged him.
"Shawn Brown."
An uneventful name if there were one, the hotel clerk checked the computer and came up with a form, that the man signed. Taking the keys from the clerk, he nodded and wandered off towards the stairs. Elevators were never really his thing, more because of the crowd than anything. At least, not as of late.
To anyone's recollection, there was no Shawn Brown that had attended Barry Coleson High School in 2005, nor was there a Shawn Brown that had even been a part of Survival of the Fittest. As such, nobody had any reason to think that the conference was why he was even there. And yet, as the man walked up the stairs, he knew that sooner or later, people would realize several things.
They would realize that the real reason Shawn Brown was in the hotel WAS the conference, and they would shortly realize that Shawn Brown was not even his real name. As he opened the door and began the long trek up to the eighth floor (where his hotel room was located), the man knew that very soon, he would likely run into someone familiar, and in all likelihood, they would recognize him. Perhaps not at first, but as time went by, someone would put two and two together, and he knew, as he stepped onto the eighth floor, that word would shortly spread that a ghost was seen in the hotel.
A ghost, a spook, a phantasm, a figment of the past...the man knew that he was one of those, if not all of them, and none at the same time. He knew that he was very real, and the questions that people would ask him would be very demanding. He knew, as he found his apartment number, that fate had a strange way of turning around on itself.
Apartment 877...the eighth floor, room seventy-seven...
As he slid the keycard into the door, Adam Dodd knew that sooner or later, at some time or another, everyone has to stop hiding. Now - now was simply his time to stop hiding from his past, and start looking towards the future.
The door latch clicked open and the biggest mystery in SOTF stepped into his hotel room, knowing full well that soon, the 'Adam Dodd mystery', as it had been dubbed, would come to a quick and unwieldy end.
The latest noteworthy item that involved this particular hotel was the gathering of the survivors of Survival of the Fittest, something that most of the world-wide press would be covering. Of the survivors, most were expected to attend, for the organizers of the event had attempted to contact each and every former student in the hopes of getting every surviving person at the hotel for the first ever television appearance. It was said to be a heavy task, being as there WERE quite a few survivors, and some of them were said to have either refused, or become unreachable. Some had died of natural causes, and some had simply moved on and not wanted to move back. Several of the students had simply vanished, seemingly off the face of the planet, so the organizers had decided to cease at a point, the efforts of contacting them all. Many of the surviving students who were considered 'key players' in the events were supposed to be showing up, and most of the United States couldn't help but wonder what their former favourite players were up to. Most had remained at least somewhat in the public eye, some doing appearances at charity functions, others getting interviewed. The press remained constant for a long time, but when the proverbial 'fifteen minutes' was up, much of the attention vanished.
The attention, however, returned when some of the students were the subject of a 'where are they now?' column that peaked interest about the event again, and speculated as to what the impact of the event was on the students who experienced it. It was then that the reunion was born. Most of the students whose whereabouts were known had agreed to appear, so the event was being heavily monitored by the press and the paparazzi reared its ugly head once again.
In the original aftermath of the incident, the press had focused heavily on what had happened to one of the more popular survivors, a student who had simply up and vanished not a week after the event. Many speculated that Adam Dodd had been unable to deal with the actions that had happened, and even more after a time began to believe that the boy had simply wandered to some remote location and had killed himself. Not even his parents had any contact with him, and it had seemed that nobody knew where he was. Dodd was one of the students that had not been contacted, mainly because nobody knew his whereabouts, or even if he were still alive. Many different people speculated about his fate, and it even became the basis for a made-for-TV movie that bombed critically in the ratings. For all intents and purposes, the fate of one of SOTF's most popular students was a mystery, one that not even the other students were ever able to solve. After the first few years, the mystery of Adam Dodd faded slowly into the past.
That was why, when a slim, thirty-year old redhead carrying a small black duffel bag over his shoulder, clad in a blue pair of jeans, a green t-shirt bearing the logo of an oldies band, covered by an open, button-up tan overshirt stepped into the lobby of the hotel, nobody at all noticed him. To everyone else in the hotel, he was simply just another person. Another face in the crowd, and yet another person going about their business. His red hair was cut short, and his goatee was neatly trimmed. The stubble that lined the rest of his face was dark red, and the expression on his face was a slightly uncomfortable one. This man did not like crowds, and in fact was not used to them. His brown eyes held a deeply intelligent stare, and the sense that there was ever-so-much on the mind of this man.
Of course, as he stepped into the lobby of the hotel, having emerged from the TAXI that had brought him from the airport, nobody noticed.
Taking a deep breath, he absentmindedly scratched the stubble on his cheek, and glanced at his watch. It was 2:30 pm, and everyone inside of the lobby seemed to preoccupied with themselves to notice anyone but themselves. The hotel staff went about their duties, and businessmen and women talked on their cell phones. Some were checking in, and others checking out. The man couldn't help but watch in an almost sense of wonder as everyone hurried around.
Shaking his head a bit, he sighed, knowing full well that soon enough, that lack of attention would vanish, potentially forever, and that in a very short while, everyone who had been going about their business, ignoring him as they did, well...a great many would stare where once they had walked on by. As he stepped up to the front desk, he glanced out of the corner of his eye and saw several people, speaking with the hotel clerks. For a brief second, he turned his head to glance at a form that the woman beside him was filling out. So many forms, and to the man, it all seemed so silly that such a long process was needed for such a simple thing as getting a hotel room.
He knew that very shortly, his past was going to catch up with him, both that he wanted to forget, and that which he had tried so hard to remember. People he had never wanted to leave behind, but had never really had much of a choice.
As the hotel clerk glanced at him, the man quietly mumbled that he had a reservation. The clerk looked at him again, inquiring about the name of the reservation. The man obliged him.
"Shawn Brown."
An uneventful name if there were one, the hotel clerk checked the computer and came up with a form, that the man signed. Taking the keys from the clerk, he nodded and wandered off towards the stairs. Elevators were never really his thing, more because of the crowd than anything. At least, not as of late.
To anyone's recollection, there was no Shawn Brown that had attended Barry Coleson High School in 2005, nor was there a Shawn Brown that had even been a part of Survival of the Fittest. As such, nobody had any reason to think that the conference was why he was even there. And yet, as the man walked up the stairs, he knew that sooner or later, people would realize several things.
They would realize that the real reason Shawn Brown was in the hotel WAS the conference, and they would shortly realize that Shawn Brown was not even his real name. As he opened the door and began the long trek up to the eighth floor (where his hotel room was located), the man knew that very soon, he would likely run into someone familiar, and in all likelihood, they would recognize him. Perhaps not at first, but as time went by, someone would put two and two together, and he knew, as he stepped onto the eighth floor, that word would shortly spread that a ghost was seen in the hotel.
A ghost, a spook, a phantasm, a figment of the past...the man knew that he was one of those, if not all of them, and none at the same time. He knew that he was very real, and the questions that people would ask him would be very demanding. He knew, as he found his apartment number, that fate had a strange way of turning around on itself.
Apartment 877...the eighth floor, room seventy-seven...
As he slid the keycard into the door, Adam Dodd knew that sooner or later, at some time or another, everyone has to stop hiding. Now - now was simply his time to stop hiding from his past, and start looking towards the future.
The door latch clicked open and the biggest mystery in SOTF stepped into his hotel room, knowing full well that soon, the 'Adam Dodd mystery', as it had been dubbed, would come to a quick and unwieldy end.
When Survival of the Fittest had ended, the survivors of the act had all but done to forget the events on the island. Some pushed back the thoughts and tried to move on with they’re lives, other moved or left never to been seen or heard again, and some had simply denied the act all together. Making themselves believe it had never happened, and went on with their lives…
Hawley Faust was no different, though he hadn’t ran away, or denied it… he had done everything in his power to try and push the actions in the back of his mind and go on. After graduating from high school, and then from medical school earning his degree and becoming a doctor just like he had planned from when he was young, following along in the majority of the family’s footsteps.
But after fifteen years things seem to find there way of falling back into place, and that’s why Hawley currently stood before a rather large, and very nice hotel glancing upward at the sheer height of the building with a sigh. A news group had decided to find and get the survivors of SOTF together in one place, and bring back all those horrible memories that they had fought so hard to put into the back of their minds, under lock and key never to be brought up again.
Which is what made him wonder as too why he had agreed to this, Madelaine had seemed interested and the thoughts of seeing those he had befriended on the island did bring a good point to light, but how many people would actually come to this thing?
Sighing none the less and stepping forward he gripped the handle of his own suitcase and moved forward stepping through the entrance of the hotel. Blinking a bit at the sight of all the people moving about the lobby, a small frown finding his features, crowds… he would probably never get used to them, but moving forward he made his way around them, glancing about in search of Madelaine. She had gone on in order to get them checked in, while he searched for a parking space, which had not been an easy task at all.
That was something else, his marriage to the first girl he had come to admit having to grown feelings for had made the harshness of living with the deaths of four people a bit easier on him, as well as his job. Being able to help save lives, instead of destroy them had been his mask to hide his emotions behind these past few years.
Stopping in place somewhat, he glanced around again trying to find her, finally spotting her standing somewhat offset from the check-in desk. Hawley sighing a bit and starting to make his way toward her, the thirty-year old red head still held some of his youthful features from when he was younger.
Though he had since lost the glasses, as they had become bothersome in his job, and opted for contacts instead. Red hair was still shaggy, though a lot neater and two-toned eyes still remained as clear against his pale, freckled skin as ever.
As he continued to make his way toward where Madelaine stood, Hawley found himself having to quickly stop in place in order to stop from running into another man. A soft, muttered ‘Sorry’ escaping his lips as he glanced toward he had almost ran into, who didn’t seem to even notice what had just almost happened. Hawley blinking in turn as he watched the other man head toward the stairs, though something else seemed to catch his attention about the man…
‘He looks rather familiar… I wonder where I’ve seen him before?’
Unable to come up with an answer, simply shrugged his shoulders, and pulled against the sleeve of his sweater along his right arm before returning to his walk, coming up beside her with small smile. “Sorry if you had to wait, finding a parking spot was a lot harder than I figured it would be.” He told her lightly, glancing around again at the sheer niceness of the hotel they had put the number of former students in, he more than happy that they where paying for this and not them.
Though as a new rang out in the near by area, Hawley returned his attention downward, looking at the new male in the area. This person looked familiar as well, though not quite as much as the other, but still familiar none the less. Hawley could have swearing it could have been from TV or the newspaper, but from his words seemed to be another of the survivors of the game that would be coming here in the next few days before the big interview before the nation.
He finding himself glancing toward Madelaine lightly as the face wasn’t registering any names with him at that moment, and as he seemed to be speaking to her, wondering if she knew him instead.
Hawley Faust was no different, though he hadn’t ran away, or denied it… he had done everything in his power to try and push the actions in the back of his mind and go on. After graduating from high school, and then from medical school earning his degree and becoming a doctor just like he had planned from when he was young, following along in the majority of the family’s footsteps.
But after fifteen years things seem to find there way of falling back into place, and that’s why Hawley currently stood before a rather large, and very nice hotel glancing upward at the sheer height of the building with a sigh. A news group had decided to find and get the survivors of SOTF together in one place, and bring back all those horrible memories that they had fought so hard to put into the back of their minds, under lock and key never to be brought up again.
Which is what made him wonder as too why he had agreed to this, Madelaine had seemed interested and the thoughts of seeing those he had befriended on the island did bring a good point to light, but how many people would actually come to this thing?
Sighing none the less and stepping forward he gripped the handle of his own suitcase and moved forward stepping through the entrance of the hotel. Blinking a bit at the sight of all the people moving about the lobby, a small frown finding his features, crowds… he would probably never get used to them, but moving forward he made his way around them, glancing about in search of Madelaine. She had gone on in order to get them checked in, while he searched for a parking space, which had not been an easy task at all.
That was something else, his marriage to the first girl he had come to admit having to grown feelings for had made the harshness of living with the deaths of four people a bit easier on him, as well as his job. Being able to help save lives, instead of destroy them had been his mask to hide his emotions behind these past few years.
Stopping in place somewhat, he glanced around again trying to find her, finally spotting her standing somewhat offset from the check-in desk. Hawley sighing a bit and starting to make his way toward her, the thirty-year old red head still held some of his youthful features from when he was younger.
Though he had since lost the glasses, as they had become bothersome in his job, and opted for contacts instead. Red hair was still shaggy, though a lot neater and two-toned eyes still remained as clear against his pale, freckled skin as ever.
As he continued to make his way toward where Madelaine stood, Hawley found himself having to quickly stop in place in order to stop from running into another man. A soft, muttered ‘Sorry’ escaping his lips as he glanced toward he had almost ran into, who didn’t seem to even notice what had just almost happened. Hawley blinking in turn as he watched the other man head toward the stairs, though something else seemed to catch his attention about the man…
‘He looks rather familiar… I wonder where I’ve seen him before?’
Unable to come up with an answer, simply shrugged his shoulders, and pulled against the sleeve of his sweater along his right arm before returning to his walk, coming up beside her with small smile. “Sorry if you had to wait, finding a parking spot was a lot harder than I figured it would be.” He told her lightly, glancing around again at the sheer niceness of the hotel they had put the number of former students in, he more than happy that they where paying for this and not them.
Though as a new rang out in the near by area, Hawley returned his attention downward, looking at the new male in the area. This person looked familiar as well, though not quite as much as the other, but still familiar none the less. Hawley could have swearing it could have been from TV or the newspaper, but from his words seemed to be another of the survivors of the game that would be coming here in the next few days before the big interview before the nation.
He finding himself glancing toward Madelaine lightly as the face wasn’t registering any names with him at that moment, and as he seemed to be speaking to her, wondering if she knew him instead.
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler riserugu. 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.
The hotel that was to be the site of the SOTF reunion was not a hotel that was empty very often, and today was certainly no exception. While the press and paparazzi were banned from the hotel due to the upcoming conference, it was still a place that was full of life and full of energy. As Amanda Jones stepped into the building, she could feel that energy, and while the mood seemed buoyant and jovial, the feeling in the pit of her stomach, well, it wasn't. She was about to relive a very defining part of her life, that while it had been an experience that had given her some very strong friendships during her high-school years, had also been one of the most horrifying things that a person could imagine. Reliving such a thing was not something she was looking forward to. Rather, she was looking forward to seeing those familiar faces once again, no matter how much they may have changed over the years.
Amanda herself had grown up to be quite the woman, and as she still stood at six foot three, she had filled out and become the object of many a male's attraction. With movie-star good looks, she often toned down her image, keeping her hair in a pony-tail and often wearing hats, long coats, and running shoes to conceal the body that she knew many people would kill to have. She wasn't an overly 'girly' person, and part of her was still the tomboyish girl that had nervously awoken on a strange island those fifteen years ago. The years had been kind to Amanda, and while he had grown out the blue highlights that she had in high school, she still had the same twinkle in her eyes that showed her firey individualism and harsh determination to do well in whatever she decided to do. As she brushed some dirt off of her black t-shirt, she wheeled her suitcase into the hotel, knowing full-well that the next few days were going to be very interesting.
It was not as if her life weren't interesting as it were - her success as a musician ensured her of that. She currently was in the Toronto Symphony Orchestra in Canada and had a solo CD that was selling ridiculously well for someone who was mainly a trombonist. Her job took her all around the world at times, and it definitely had its fair share of interesting moments. Amanda gave off the impression that she was someone who was very happy with the hand that she'd been dealt, and lived her life to the fullest each day.
All was, however, not all as it seemed for Amanda Jones. The years after the incident had been very difficult to deal with, and between dealing with her overprotective parents, her distant friends, and the pressure to escape her father's overwhelming shadow, Amanda had never really been all that happy during the remainder of her high school years. University had restored some of her faith in humanity and in fun, and while she'd had some good times, there was always the nagging feeling in the back of her mind, the small knocking that was always there to remind her of the friends that she'd lost, and the hell that she'd gone through.
And of course, there was that one other thing...
Amanda had been mentally obliterated when Adam Dodd had gone missing. The boy had professed his love to her on the island, and she had reciprocated it, for it was truly the kind of love that one knew about right away. The fact that they might die at any time had simply accelerated the process, and when they were rescued, Amanda took much solace in the fact that her and Adam had both survived. So when he'd gone missing and never returned, she'd been beyond devastated and had taken it very, very hard. Some people had silently observed that Amanda was as distraught about it as much as any member of Adam's immediate family had been. She thought about him constantly for many months, and refused to give up hope that he would be alive, and one day would return to them. When the police gave up searching, and it was ruled that Adam had likely killed himself and would never be found, she didn't know if she'd be able to cope. It had taken many phone calls with her close friend Madelaine to get her back to the point of proper living again. Her hopes that she'd see Adam again seemed to be futile.
When she had been in twelfth grade, Amanda had been on her way to go to graduation when her father had wandered in with the day's mail. Amongst the many bills, advertisements, and magazines that her father subscribed to was a small postcard, one that her father remarked as being 'slightly odd'. She looked at the picture on the cover. It was a photograph of a majestic mountain valley, looking very much like something you'd find in Western Canada, mainly in British Columbia. Intrigued, she had turned the postcard around. It was addressed to her, with her address written neatly in blue pen, and the entire postcard was blank, except for two very simple words, also written in the blue pen.
I'm sorry.
That postcard was the sole reason that the valedictorian of the class of 2008 barely got through her speech, and as she finished, promptly ran out of the auditorium and burst into tears. She knew. She had always known, but never could prove - Adam was live, somewhere. She never showed the postcard to anyone, but always kept it with her, for it was the one piece of him that she had left. Waiting for more word, she kept looking through the day's mail, but no more word ever came. That was it. Simply: I'm sorry.
So now, fifteen years later, Amanda had finally gotten over the boy that she had fallen in love with so many years ago. At least, she thought so. She had begun to try and see guys, something that she had decided never to do, but after fifteen years, had finally decided to let go. She had stopped carrying the postcard around with her, but still kept it in a box in her house. She did, however, carry the small, wrinkled but intact card in her pocket, knowing that if Adam had indeed written it (she knew that he had, it WAS his writing), at least a small part of him would be at this ever-so-important and yet painful gathering. She owed him that much, even though she knew not if he even still lived, and had not heard from him in fifteen years. Currently, Amanda was dating a writer named Harrison, but they'd only been seeing each other for a week and she was having doubts. Most of the guys that she dated seemed boring and without any life. She knew she'd likely break it off with him, for the relationship simply didn't seem to be going anywhere at all.
As she wheeled her baggage towards the counter, she stopped, and looked around. She had a very odd feeling about this gathering, something that she couldn't place her finger on. Shaking her head, she reached into her pocket and looked at the faded postcard. Sighing, she knew that the next few days were going to be VERY difficult. As she walked towards the counter, she couldn't help but almost bump into a shaggy-haired redhead who was standing beside a woman who was seemingly talking to someone else. Amanda's mouth slowly dropped open as she recognized the redhead as someone she hadn't seen in almost six years. Because of the travelling obligations of her job, she'd missed the man's wedding, and that was something she'd always hated herself for. She'd grown apart from him and his wife, and that was something she'd never anticipated would happen, not ever.
Of course, as she knew, three was a crowd, so she playfully shoved the redhead from behind and stuck her head in between the heads of the redhead and his wife, those that she knew as Madelaine and Hawley Faust.
"Don't you just hate it when people stand around in crowded hallways? It's like high school all over again!" Amanda broke out into a huge grin as she grabbed both of her old friends shoulders and lightly shook them both. She didn't recognize the third person right away, but she knew he was some sports star of some sort, and was undoubtedly someone she'd gone to school with. Regardless, she'd hardly knew him, and her first priority was to her two friends.
God, I've missed them so much...
Amanda herself had grown up to be quite the woman, and as she still stood at six foot three, she had filled out and become the object of many a male's attraction. With movie-star good looks, she often toned down her image, keeping her hair in a pony-tail and often wearing hats, long coats, and running shoes to conceal the body that she knew many people would kill to have. She wasn't an overly 'girly' person, and part of her was still the tomboyish girl that had nervously awoken on a strange island those fifteen years ago. The years had been kind to Amanda, and while he had grown out the blue highlights that she had in high school, she still had the same twinkle in her eyes that showed her firey individualism and harsh determination to do well in whatever she decided to do. As she brushed some dirt off of her black t-shirt, she wheeled her suitcase into the hotel, knowing full-well that the next few days were going to be very interesting.
It was not as if her life weren't interesting as it were - her success as a musician ensured her of that. She currently was in the Toronto Symphony Orchestra in Canada and had a solo CD that was selling ridiculously well for someone who was mainly a trombonist. Her job took her all around the world at times, and it definitely had its fair share of interesting moments. Amanda gave off the impression that she was someone who was very happy with the hand that she'd been dealt, and lived her life to the fullest each day.
All was, however, not all as it seemed for Amanda Jones. The years after the incident had been very difficult to deal with, and between dealing with her overprotective parents, her distant friends, and the pressure to escape her father's overwhelming shadow, Amanda had never really been all that happy during the remainder of her high school years. University had restored some of her faith in humanity and in fun, and while she'd had some good times, there was always the nagging feeling in the back of her mind, the small knocking that was always there to remind her of the friends that she'd lost, and the hell that she'd gone through.
And of course, there was that one other thing...
Amanda had been mentally obliterated when Adam Dodd had gone missing. The boy had professed his love to her on the island, and she had reciprocated it, for it was truly the kind of love that one knew about right away. The fact that they might die at any time had simply accelerated the process, and when they were rescued, Amanda took much solace in the fact that her and Adam had both survived. So when he'd gone missing and never returned, she'd been beyond devastated and had taken it very, very hard. Some people had silently observed that Amanda was as distraught about it as much as any member of Adam's immediate family had been. She thought about him constantly for many months, and refused to give up hope that he would be alive, and one day would return to them. When the police gave up searching, and it was ruled that Adam had likely killed himself and would never be found, she didn't know if she'd be able to cope. It had taken many phone calls with her close friend Madelaine to get her back to the point of proper living again. Her hopes that she'd see Adam again seemed to be futile.
When she had been in twelfth grade, Amanda had been on her way to go to graduation when her father had wandered in with the day's mail. Amongst the many bills, advertisements, and magazines that her father subscribed to was a small postcard, one that her father remarked as being 'slightly odd'. She looked at the picture on the cover. It was a photograph of a majestic mountain valley, looking very much like something you'd find in Western Canada, mainly in British Columbia. Intrigued, she had turned the postcard around. It was addressed to her, with her address written neatly in blue pen, and the entire postcard was blank, except for two very simple words, also written in the blue pen.
I'm sorry.
That postcard was the sole reason that the valedictorian of the class of 2008 barely got through her speech, and as she finished, promptly ran out of the auditorium and burst into tears. She knew. She had always known, but never could prove - Adam was live, somewhere. She never showed the postcard to anyone, but always kept it with her, for it was the one piece of him that she had left. Waiting for more word, she kept looking through the day's mail, but no more word ever came. That was it. Simply: I'm sorry.
So now, fifteen years later, Amanda had finally gotten over the boy that she had fallen in love with so many years ago. At least, she thought so. She had begun to try and see guys, something that she had decided never to do, but after fifteen years, had finally decided to let go. She had stopped carrying the postcard around with her, but still kept it in a box in her house. She did, however, carry the small, wrinkled but intact card in her pocket, knowing that if Adam had indeed written it (she knew that he had, it WAS his writing), at least a small part of him would be at this ever-so-important and yet painful gathering. She owed him that much, even though she knew not if he even still lived, and had not heard from him in fifteen years. Currently, Amanda was dating a writer named Harrison, but they'd only been seeing each other for a week and she was having doubts. Most of the guys that she dated seemed boring and without any life. She knew she'd likely break it off with him, for the relationship simply didn't seem to be going anywhere at all.
As she wheeled her baggage towards the counter, she stopped, and looked around. She had a very odd feeling about this gathering, something that she couldn't place her finger on. Shaking her head, she reached into her pocket and looked at the faded postcard. Sighing, she knew that the next few days were going to be VERY difficult. As she walked towards the counter, she couldn't help but almost bump into a shaggy-haired redhead who was standing beside a woman who was seemingly talking to someone else. Amanda's mouth slowly dropped open as she recognized the redhead as someone she hadn't seen in almost six years. Because of the travelling obligations of her job, she'd missed the man's wedding, and that was something she'd always hated herself for. She'd grown apart from him and his wife, and that was something she'd never anticipated would happen, not ever.
Of course, as she knew, three was a crowd, so she playfully shoved the redhead from behind and stuck her head in between the heads of the redhead and his wife, those that she knew as Madelaine and Hawley Faust.
"Don't you just hate it when people stand around in crowded hallways? It's like high school all over again!" Amanda broke out into a huge grin as she grabbed both of her old friends shoulders and lightly shook them both. She didn't recognize the third person right away, but she knew he was some sports star of some sort, and was undoubtedly someone she'd gone to school with. Regardless, she'd hardly knew him, and her first priority was to her two friends.
God, I've missed them so much...
((AAARGH *brain explode*Ladymakaze,Dec 19 2005, 07:46 AM wrote: She filled in the first line with her name, 'Madelaine Faust'.
XDD Awesome idea. I'll do this later -i.e when I'm not act school Maaah, I have time. I'll do it now!))
Pushing the doors open cautiously, Elise cast a look around the hotel she was to be staying in.
Not bad... pretty posh, but I've seen better...
Since leaving school, she had gone to university and gained a degree in Psychology. She was now a successful psychiatrist with her own private practice.
She had changed a lot since her high school days. The chubbiness she had been taunted for had vanished and her hair, once long, curly and unmanageable was now short and sleek. Coupled with her wire framed glasses, she gave off a strong impression of a highly successful business woman. Wearing a bohemian style skirt with a pretty (but not over the top) t-shirt, she smiled as she walked in.
Things certainly had changed for her since she had left the island.
She hadn't made an effort to keep in touch with anyone since she had been rescued that day, instead going straight back to England. She had no idea who else had escaped from the terror, and she highly doubted anyone would recognise her. She wasn't even really sure why she had come, but hopefully it'd be worthwhile. And it'd help her finally put her experiences behind her.
Her time on the island had been valuable- she was able to relate other victims of trauma incidents whom she dealt with in her job, and it had certainly made her more courteous and understanding of others. Although it was a rather morbid way of putting it, now that the time had passed, scars had faded, wounds healed- she was almost glad she had been on the island.
Almost.
Looking around, she saw a few people she had recognised. Although she wasn't the anti-social basketcase she had been before, she was still a little shy and so wandered over to the sign-in desk, quickly jotting her name down before casting a sidewards glance at the three, who were undoubtedly Madelaine, Amanda and Hawley.
They haven't changed a bit... she thought, smiling warmly to herself. At least they got off the island OK.
Not really wishing to intrude on their joyful reunion but feeling distinctly awkward and uncomfortable, she hovered nearby, looking around for someone- anyone- she could talk to.
I am an archival account used by staff to port old posts from handlers no longer active. If you are this handler, get in touch with staff and we can get your posts back for you! Elise avatar by Kermit.
The rooms at the hotel were furnished with large beds and down pillows, the televisions had cable, and the maids actually paid attention when the little plastic “Do not disturb” sign was hung from the door handle. Even the bathrooms in single rooms were huge and tiled with marble.
“I’m almost afraid to touch anything, ‘cause I’m scared I’m going to break it,” Clare Shephard mused quietly, not afraid that anyone would hear her and make a passing comment about her being mentally unstable. She had checked in yesterday night in an attempt to avoid the crowd that she knew would be awaiting the former students and participants outside. It hadn’t worked. The press was already there attempting to squeeze interviews out of any person walking into the hotel, all of them being under the general assumption that everyone going into the hotel had been a participant in Survival of the Fittest. Needless to say, they weren’t completely incorrect.
What Clare had seen on the island had shattered her already damaged psyche. Try as she might, there was just no forgetting or blocking out the events of Survival of the Fittest and just moving on with her life. The gunshots crashing through the silence in unpredictable intervals, the screams, the blood, if just wouldn’t leave her alone even after the “game” was over. She was immediately put back into psychotherapy when she got home, but she had never been good about taking medication and the inconsistency put her on a mental roller coaster.
A month after they had returned home she overdosed on sleeping pills in an attempt at suicide. The public knew she was still alive because she made a brief television appearance after she was released from the hospital and occasionally she would be spotted walking down to the Seven-Eleven on the corner to buy a snack, but she tried her best to stay out of the public eye.
The administrators permitted her to return to Barry Coleson High because they were afraid of media repercussions, seeing as how Clare had been made out to be an innocent girl who had simply been traumatized by the game without bothering to look into her past. Her grades were passable, not fantastic, but good enough, though her mind stayed glued to the events of Survival of the Fittest. The morbid fascination disturbed her family members as she spent hours in front of the computer running searches for information and images pertaining to Survival of the Fittest and it’s Japanese counterpart Battle Royale. Almost every time she came across information pertaining to her party she’d laugh hysterically because it was hideously incorrect. Many were convinced that Clare was fragile and needed strong males to protect her which was just some frilly fantasy, while others were convinced that there were romantic overtones that just didn’t exist considering the only one in the entire group she had actually known was Vince Samsa who had shot her in the arm before they managed to talk some sanity into each other. Every time she came across those sites she would send the webmaster an e-mail outlining how incorrect their assumptions were, not that any of them ever paid attention. The most disturbing things she found, though, were fan fiction written with the Survival of the Fittest “characters”, those just made her furious or violently ill. What were those kids playing at? They wanted to insert themselves into the game, did they? They have no idea what it’s like to be in that kind of desperate situation.
For many people, Clare’s family included, it was hard to believe that any of the participants in Survival of the Fittest would want anything to do with firearms ever again, especially when the one who did had gotten shot. That didn’t stop Clare from accompanying her father to the range almost every weekend for enjoyment or competitions. For her eighteenth birthday all she wanted was a car and a Remington M870 “Wingmaster” shotgun, both of which she got even if the car was a junker.
It wasn’t long before she forgave Vince for the gunshot wound, she understood the insanity of the situation, and plus it got her out of taking gym classes. Though Clare wasn’t widely accepted by the football team she’d usually sit near him at lunch because in her mind Vince was one of her only friends in the school. Most of the other survivors shunted her aside when she couldn’t just try to move on, but she had learned to keep her mouth shut around them. She got a part time job at a funeral home, feeling that it would be best if she could use her experience to help others cope with their losses.
She went to college and became a fashion designer, though she continues to work as a funeral director on the side. Even though she isn’t one of the more famous designers, she has a heavy fan base and much of her clothing is sold at the “trendy” stores in shopping malls.
The elevator chimed as she reached the lobby, dressed in a pair of black dress pants and a more professional-looking version of her </life> tank top pulled over a sleek black bathing suit. Mentally part of Clare’s mind was still that fifteen-year-old thrown into the middle of a sick “game”, even after years of psychotherapy it still held a morbid fascination to her, though she had managed to move on a bit with her life. Physically, though, she had matured a great deal from the frighteningly thin fifteen-year-old that she had been on the island. Her hair was longer and had a bit more color to it thanks to the wonders of highlights, she was considerably taller, and she actually had some muscle tone. The fluffy white towel draped over her arm and the goggles hanging around her neck showed her intent to visit the hotel’s large pool, but first she wanted to see if anyone else had arrived. The correspondence she shared with the members of her party had just fallen away with time, occasionally she would still receive a letter from Ryan, Neville, or Dorien, even more rarely she’d receive one from Vince. She’d always write back, but it took her a while sometimes. The thing she wanted most at that moment was to see them again.
As leaned against one of the chairs set in the middle of the lobby she looked around, trying to put names to faces she hadn’t seen in years.
“I’m almost afraid to touch anything, ‘cause I’m scared I’m going to break it,” Clare Shephard mused quietly, not afraid that anyone would hear her and make a passing comment about her being mentally unstable. She had checked in yesterday night in an attempt to avoid the crowd that she knew would be awaiting the former students and participants outside. It hadn’t worked. The press was already there attempting to squeeze interviews out of any person walking into the hotel, all of them being under the general assumption that everyone going into the hotel had been a participant in Survival of the Fittest. Needless to say, they weren’t completely incorrect.
What Clare had seen on the island had shattered her already damaged psyche. Try as she might, there was just no forgetting or blocking out the events of Survival of the Fittest and just moving on with her life. The gunshots crashing through the silence in unpredictable intervals, the screams, the blood, if just wouldn’t leave her alone even after the “game” was over. She was immediately put back into psychotherapy when she got home, but she had never been good about taking medication and the inconsistency put her on a mental roller coaster.
A month after they had returned home she overdosed on sleeping pills in an attempt at suicide. The public knew she was still alive because she made a brief television appearance after she was released from the hospital and occasionally she would be spotted walking down to the Seven-Eleven on the corner to buy a snack, but she tried her best to stay out of the public eye.
The administrators permitted her to return to Barry Coleson High because they were afraid of media repercussions, seeing as how Clare had been made out to be an innocent girl who had simply been traumatized by the game without bothering to look into her past. Her grades were passable, not fantastic, but good enough, though her mind stayed glued to the events of Survival of the Fittest. The morbid fascination disturbed her family members as she spent hours in front of the computer running searches for information and images pertaining to Survival of the Fittest and it’s Japanese counterpart Battle Royale. Almost every time she came across information pertaining to her party she’d laugh hysterically because it was hideously incorrect. Many were convinced that Clare was fragile and needed strong males to protect her which was just some frilly fantasy, while others were convinced that there were romantic overtones that just didn’t exist considering the only one in the entire group she had actually known was Vince Samsa who had shot her in the arm before they managed to talk some sanity into each other. Every time she came across those sites she would send the webmaster an e-mail outlining how incorrect their assumptions were, not that any of them ever paid attention. The most disturbing things she found, though, were fan fiction written with the Survival of the Fittest “characters”, those just made her furious or violently ill. What were those kids playing at? They wanted to insert themselves into the game, did they? They have no idea what it’s like to be in that kind of desperate situation.
For many people, Clare’s family included, it was hard to believe that any of the participants in Survival of the Fittest would want anything to do with firearms ever again, especially when the one who did had gotten shot. That didn’t stop Clare from accompanying her father to the range almost every weekend for enjoyment or competitions. For her eighteenth birthday all she wanted was a car and a Remington M870 “Wingmaster” shotgun, both of which she got even if the car was a junker.
It wasn’t long before she forgave Vince for the gunshot wound, she understood the insanity of the situation, and plus it got her out of taking gym classes. Though Clare wasn’t widely accepted by the football team she’d usually sit near him at lunch because in her mind Vince was one of her only friends in the school. Most of the other survivors shunted her aside when she couldn’t just try to move on, but she had learned to keep her mouth shut around them. She got a part time job at a funeral home, feeling that it would be best if she could use her experience to help others cope with their losses.
She went to college and became a fashion designer, though she continues to work as a funeral director on the side. Even though she isn’t one of the more famous designers, she has a heavy fan base and much of her clothing is sold at the “trendy” stores in shopping malls.
The elevator chimed as she reached the lobby, dressed in a pair of black dress pants and a more professional-looking version of her </life> tank top pulled over a sleek black bathing suit. Mentally part of Clare’s mind was still that fifteen-year-old thrown into the middle of a sick “game”, even after years of psychotherapy it still held a morbid fascination to her, though she had managed to move on a bit with her life. Physically, though, she had matured a great deal from the frighteningly thin fifteen-year-old that she had been on the island. Her hair was longer and had a bit more color to it thanks to the wonders of highlights, she was considerably taller, and she actually had some muscle tone. The fluffy white towel draped over her arm and the goggles hanging around her neck showed her intent to visit the hotel’s large pool, but first she wanted to see if anyone else had arrived. The correspondence she shared with the members of her party had just fallen away with time, occasionally she would still receive a letter from Ryan, Neville, or Dorien, even more rarely she’d receive one from Vince. She’d always write back, but it took her a while sometimes. The thing she wanted most at that moment was to see them again.
As leaned against one of the chairs set in the middle of the lobby she looked around, trying to put names to faces she hadn’t seen in years.
-
LadyMakaze†
- Posts: 475
- Joined: Fri Aug 17, 2018 9:48 pm
As she stood quietly by herself, tactically placing herself near a wall as to avoid being swept away by the voluminous crowd, Madelaine began to regress into her mind a bit, reflecting on everything that had happened to her since the days of SOTF. It was the first time she had been able to do so for a while, and thoroughly at that, seeing as she had been busy with her life as of late.
It seemed like an eternity, yet only a short moment past the day she awoke to find herself trapped in a powerful likeness to living hell, swept up in a game of death and survival, where the absolute worst was brought out of the young generation. The worst things happened, and the worst things were committed by those who were no longer children, but not quite adults.
It had been a rather defining, and undoubtedly sobering moment for Madelaine, who had been struggling to bury everything in the past since she was rescued and returned home. But it wasn't as hard as it could have been. After all, those who had stood beside her while she was one the island continued to do so through the rest of her high school years. Though her life had been hectic after graduating and then moving onto university to train as a teacher, she still had time to strengthen bonds with her friends, and repair the state of her family life. What was troubling though that the tight circle of friends she had been a part of since their time on the island seemed to falter a bit as friends went their seperate ways, one in particular even disappearing completely at that.
But then there was her marriage to Hawley Faust. All in all, Madelaine thought it quite strange for a simple (albeit close) friendship forged between two people during such a terrible ordeal could turn into something even closer after the event. But there it was, that was the way things had turned out in the end: They ended up getting married and Madelaine couldn't possibly ask for anything different. Though she had to admit, it took him long enough to reveal his feelings for her after keeping them hidden for as long as he did, but that was probably just as well. For by then, she had healed enough to move on, and the marriage was probably what really helped her, and her own family heal.
...And since then she and Hawley had time to settle down a bit with married life, Hawley becoming a doctor and Madelaine working as an English teacher at a high school. Things went well for a while, before there were a few unexpected events, the first one being Madelaine finding out that she was two months into pregnancy, the second being an invitation to a conference of sorts, no doubt prepared for them to retell their experiences on the island.
Surprisingly, it was the latter event that she worried about more, and now, as she looked uneasily towards the crowd, she wondered if coming here was such a great idea after all. Madelaine herself had agreed to it, mainly because she was rather anxious to see some of her friends again, Amanda and Adam in particular. She had heard from Amanda from time to time, though she seemed busy with her new profession these days. And as for Adam, well...there was still the troubling fact that he was still unaccounted for these days.
She ran her fingers down from where her hair was parted neatly in the center to reveal her prominant forehead. While she had outgrown some of her more fragile and childish features, giving her a more stately appearance, she still had that demure, ladylike charm to her.
Madelaine looked towards Vince Samsa, smiling a bit, not really recognizing him, though she wondered briefly if she had seen him before on the news or on television.
"Hello, you're here for the conference, right?" she asked politely, before looking around again for her husband.
And there he was, fighting his way through the crowd to get to her, bumping into a person that looked vaguely familiar in particular. But Madelaine was unable to tell who he was, not being able to see his face from where she was.
She looked back towards Hawley, smiling brightly as he stood beside her.
"It's alright, you're here now," she said, looking around at all the activity in the area, noting the occasional familiar face here and there. "It's really crowded in here, isn't it? I didn't think it would be this crowded..."
Wonder if this was such a great idea after all... Madelaine thought to herself, reminding herself that it was she who had agreed to come here in the first place, though not for the sole sake of showing up on television.
"Anyways, I got us the keys..." She showed him the room keys, and was immediately startled for a moment, feeling somewhat grab her shoulder from behind, giving her a shake that jolted her into alertness. She turned to look straight into the familiar face of Amanda Jones...
"Amanda, you're here too!" Madelaine immediately gave her long-time friend a tight hug, before looking back up at her, which was somewhat difficult given the height difference. Madelaine smiled warmly. "It's been a while, I was really hoping you'd come."
She looked excitedly towards Hawley, "See? I told you some friends would be here."
It seemed like an eternity, yet only a short moment past the day she awoke to find herself trapped in a powerful likeness to living hell, swept up in a game of death and survival, where the absolute worst was brought out of the young generation. The worst things happened, and the worst things were committed by those who were no longer children, but not quite adults.
It had been a rather defining, and undoubtedly sobering moment for Madelaine, who had been struggling to bury everything in the past since she was rescued and returned home. But it wasn't as hard as it could have been. After all, those who had stood beside her while she was one the island continued to do so through the rest of her high school years. Though her life had been hectic after graduating and then moving onto university to train as a teacher, she still had time to strengthen bonds with her friends, and repair the state of her family life. What was troubling though that the tight circle of friends she had been a part of since their time on the island seemed to falter a bit as friends went their seperate ways, one in particular even disappearing completely at that.
But then there was her marriage to Hawley Faust. All in all, Madelaine thought it quite strange for a simple (albeit close) friendship forged between two people during such a terrible ordeal could turn into something even closer after the event. But there it was, that was the way things had turned out in the end: They ended up getting married and Madelaine couldn't possibly ask for anything different. Though she had to admit, it took him long enough to reveal his feelings for her after keeping them hidden for as long as he did, but that was probably just as well. For by then, she had healed enough to move on, and the marriage was probably what really helped her, and her own family heal.
...And since then she and Hawley had time to settle down a bit with married life, Hawley becoming a doctor and Madelaine working as an English teacher at a high school. Things went well for a while, before there were a few unexpected events, the first one being Madelaine finding out that she was two months into pregnancy, the second being an invitation to a conference of sorts, no doubt prepared for them to retell their experiences on the island.
Surprisingly, it was the latter event that she worried about more, and now, as she looked uneasily towards the crowd, she wondered if coming here was such a great idea after all. Madelaine herself had agreed to it, mainly because she was rather anxious to see some of her friends again, Amanda and Adam in particular. She had heard from Amanda from time to time, though she seemed busy with her new profession these days. And as for Adam, well...there was still the troubling fact that he was still unaccounted for these days.
She ran her fingers down from where her hair was parted neatly in the center to reveal her prominant forehead. While she had outgrown some of her more fragile and childish features, giving her a more stately appearance, she still had that demure, ladylike charm to her.
Madelaine looked towards Vince Samsa, smiling a bit, not really recognizing him, though she wondered briefly if she had seen him before on the news or on television.
"Hello, you're here for the conference, right?" she asked politely, before looking around again for her husband.
And there he was, fighting his way through the crowd to get to her, bumping into a person that looked vaguely familiar in particular. But Madelaine was unable to tell who he was, not being able to see his face from where she was.
She looked back towards Hawley, smiling brightly as he stood beside her.
"It's alright, you're here now," she said, looking around at all the activity in the area, noting the occasional familiar face here and there. "It's really crowded in here, isn't it? I didn't think it would be this crowded..."
Wonder if this was such a great idea after all... Madelaine thought to herself, reminding herself that it was she who had agreed to come here in the first place, though not for the sole sake of showing up on television.
"Anyways, I got us the keys..." She showed him the room keys, and was immediately startled for a moment, feeling somewhat grab her shoulder from behind, giving her a shake that jolted her into alertness. She turned to look straight into the familiar face of Amanda Jones...
"Amanda, you're here too!" Madelaine immediately gave her long-time friend a tight hug, before looking back up at her, which was somewhat difficult given the height difference. Madelaine smiled warmly. "It's been a while, I was really hoping you'd come."
She looked excitedly towards Hawley, "See? I told you some friends would be here."
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler LadyMakaze. 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.
“You probably don’t know me, but I am Vince Samsa and I went to school with you guys. I was the star football player since freshman year and umm…I played College Ball and if you pay attention to that you’d know that I’d won the Heisman trophy…” Vince paused and then looked at Hawley “I know Hawley because well…a few of my friends used to make fun of him in high school and even if I never participated in it, well I still feel bad about it…” he took off one of the diamond rings on his right hand and gave it to Hawley “From the 2015 super bowl…the first I won and you can keep it, but I highly suggest selling it on e-bay, you’ll never have to work again…” Vince Samsa said has he taken his bag up to his room.
When he finally reached his room the first thing he did was order a drink “I should go back there” he said sipping upon his drink when the time came, he walked down stairs again and saw a beautiful girl in a tank top and a towel… it couldn’t be could it? It was, it was Clare! “Holy shit…” he whispered has he walked up to the girl sitting in the middle of the lobby “Am I truly getting to famous to hang out with a bunch of my old friends?” Vince said with a grin.
When he finally reached his room the first thing he did was order a drink “I should go back there” he said sipping upon his drink when the time came, he walked down stairs again and saw a beautiful girl in a tank top and a towel… it couldn’t be could it? It was, it was Clare! “Holy shit…” he whispered has he walked up to the girl sitting in the middle of the lobby “Am I truly getting to famous to hang out with a bunch of my old friends?” Vince said with a grin.
"My man got too familiar and I’d ended up having to whoop his ass, man, you know. Because he would step across the line. Habitually. He’s a habitual line stepper.” -Charlie Murphy
V8 Relationship Thread
Slidin'
Lookin' for the opps, they been hidin'
I grew up 'round drugs, sex, and violence
We turnt off they street, we heard sirens
Since a juvenile, I been wylin'
Slidin'
Lookin' for the opps, they been hidin'
I grew up 'round drugs, sex, and violence
We turnt off they street, we heard sirens
Since a juvenile, I been wylin'
Rubbing the back of his neck with his free hand, Hawley nodded a bit in agreement, there where a lot more people than he would have figured to be here as well, be it they where here for the conference or something else. “Yeah, I didn’t think quite this many people would want to come to this.” He muttered noting a large number of familiar faces he couldn’t quite but with names at that moment as well, though none the less he still wondered if they could supply a room to all the people currently roaming about the lobby area.
Dropping his hand back along his side, Hawley glanced back over toward Madelaine as she spoke showing him she had already taken care of getting their room, which was good. Because he personally didn’t want to go back into that large group of people again, and opening his mouth to reply found himself closing it after something shove against his back.
Alerting him and causing him to turn to face the head currently between both Madelaine and himself. He once again, blinking at this, though once he noticed who it was the confusion gave way to happiness of seeing someone that he had grown to know well on the island, and after the events on there as well.
He hadn’t seen the girl in well over six years at least, Amanda’s job seeming to have taken up a lot of her time, with touring and such. And he couldn’t help but smile as he watched his wife hug the other girl, he quickly taking note of the fact Amanda was still taller than he was – though not by much still. As by his junior year in high had actually grown a bit from the 5’5 height he had when they had been back on the island. Glancing toward Madelaine as she spoke again, he nodded once more.
“Yeah, you where right there I figured there wouldn’t be too much of us that would show up for this conference, I’m glad you actually came Amanda.”
The former Vice-president’s daughter had been one of the ones he had hoped wound show up here, another being Adam. A person none of them had seen since the end of SOTF those fifteen years ago, and with all the rumors of him killing himself or having died shortly after leaving wasn’t helping Hawley’s views on where the other man could have went off to following the cruel act. Adam had indeed came to be one of the closet friends Hawley had, had in all his years…
He also had been the main reason he was probably standing here today. Thoughts of what he could have done on that island if he hadn’t met Adam and Alan on the second day might have changed everything for him – including if he had survived long enough to get off that island or not.
Hawley was drawn from his thoughts when he heard the other male spoke, telling them his name – Vince Samsa.
Now the damn name sounded really familiar, and as the other male went now he smiled the name finally clicking in his head. Hawley remembered a year or so back at the hospital with one of patients had been a big fan of the football player, and the team he had played for, claming there was no other team that could beat them as long as they had Vince. Haws finding himself unable to do much more than blink at the fact that such a famous person, even if he didn’t know or remember a thing about him, had once been a student at their school and a gotten out of Survival of the Fittest.
If he remembered correctly, from the number of times he had to hear about it from the fan-boy himself he would be surprised if he couldn’t, this one player had won his team least three, though it could be four super bowls in his career. Hawley a bit surprised that someone with his fame would what to come and relive the lowest point in a lot of their lives in thanks to this conference of sorts that would be taking place in the next few days.
And as Vince went on, he listened none the less even if he hadn't watched a minute of football in his life. No matter how popular it seemed to be around his work place at times. So personally, he hadn't the foggest as to what the Heisman Throphy was... or what it meant to win one.
Vince got Hawley's full attention though when the football player mentioned knowing him – though for a reason he better off having forgotten, though he couldn’t say to much. The bully problem had gotten a lot better after his freshmen year in high school, but the more than once encounter with the some of the members of the foot ball team was still there in the back of his mind.
Though what confused the doctor even more was when the other went about removing one of the rings on his right hand. Passing it over to the red head whom at that point… could really do nothing but blink as he looked down at the ring now sitting in the palm of his hand. The other musing off what he should do with the ring before walking off…
How odd.
Hawley simply looking over the said diamond ring, the team’s name, super bowl number, and year it had happened covering the piece of jewelry. He looking off toward Madelaine and Amanda, the somewhat same confused look on his face, blinking a bit still.
“Umm…” Was all Hawley could really get out at first unable to really think of anything to say about the recent actions of Vince. He once more looking the ring over. “I’m quite sure what that was all about…” He admitted, frowning a little.
Dropping his hand back along his side, Hawley glanced back over toward Madelaine as she spoke showing him she had already taken care of getting their room, which was good. Because he personally didn’t want to go back into that large group of people again, and opening his mouth to reply found himself closing it after something shove against his back.
Alerting him and causing him to turn to face the head currently between both Madelaine and himself. He once again, blinking at this, though once he noticed who it was the confusion gave way to happiness of seeing someone that he had grown to know well on the island, and after the events on there as well.
He hadn’t seen the girl in well over six years at least, Amanda’s job seeming to have taken up a lot of her time, with touring and such. And he couldn’t help but smile as he watched his wife hug the other girl, he quickly taking note of the fact Amanda was still taller than he was – though not by much still. As by his junior year in high had actually grown a bit from the 5’5 height he had when they had been back on the island. Glancing toward Madelaine as she spoke again, he nodded once more.
“Yeah, you where right there I figured there wouldn’t be too much of us that would show up for this conference, I’m glad you actually came Amanda.”
The former Vice-president’s daughter had been one of the ones he had hoped wound show up here, another being Adam. A person none of them had seen since the end of SOTF those fifteen years ago, and with all the rumors of him killing himself or having died shortly after leaving wasn’t helping Hawley’s views on where the other man could have went off to following the cruel act. Adam had indeed came to be one of the closet friends Hawley had, had in all his years…
He also had been the main reason he was probably standing here today. Thoughts of what he could have done on that island if he hadn’t met Adam and Alan on the second day might have changed everything for him – including if he had survived long enough to get off that island or not.
Hawley was drawn from his thoughts when he heard the other male spoke, telling them his name – Vince Samsa.
Now the damn name sounded really familiar, and as the other male went now he smiled the name finally clicking in his head. Hawley remembered a year or so back at the hospital with one of patients had been a big fan of the football player, and the team he had played for, claming there was no other team that could beat them as long as they had Vince. Haws finding himself unable to do much more than blink at the fact that such a famous person, even if he didn’t know or remember a thing about him, had once been a student at their school and a gotten out of Survival of the Fittest.
If he remembered correctly, from the number of times he had to hear about it from the fan-boy himself he would be surprised if he couldn’t, this one player had won his team least three, though it could be four super bowls in his career. Hawley a bit surprised that someone with his fame would what to come and relive the lowest point in a lot of their lives in thanks to this conference of sorts that would be taking place in the next few days.
And as Vince went on, he listened none the less even if he hadn't watched a minute of football in his life. No matter how popular it seemed to be around his work place at times. So personally, he hadn't the foggest as to what the Heisman Throphy was... or what it meant to win one.
Vince got Hawley's full attention though when the football player mentioned knowing him – though for a reason he better off having forgotten, though he couldn’t say to much. The bully problem had gotten a lot better after his freshmen year in high school, but the more than once encounter with the some of the members of the foot ball team was still there in the back of his mind.
Though what confused the doctor even more was when the other went about removing one of the rings on his right hand. Passing it over to the red head whom at that point… could really do nothing but blink as he looked down at the ring now sitting in the palm of his hand. The other musing off what he should do with the ring before walking off…
How odd.
Hawley simply looking over the said diamond ring, the team’s name, super bowl number, and year it had happened covering the piece of jewelry. He looking off toward Madelaine and Amanda, the somewhat same confused look on his face, blinking a bit still.
“Umm…” Was all Hawley could really get out at first unable to really think of anything to say about the recent actions of Vince. He once more looking the ring over. “I’m quite sure what that was all about…” He admitted, frowning a little.
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler riserugu. 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.
OOC: I assume the war's over?
Eventually the hotel door opened again, admitting a heavily muscled man with almost clean-shaven red hair wearing grey jeans and a red shirt with the Eagle Globe and Anchor emblazoned on the middle, a Congressional Medal of Honor pinned on the right side (he had debated it with himself, but decided he had the right to show off). His face looked a lot more mature and hardened than when he had been a participant in SOTF, but David Jackson, SOTF survivor and war hero, was still recognizable. Exactly one year after he had returned from SOTF, he had enlisted in the US Marines to fight in the war against Danya's people, which ended a bit afterwards. During his service, he had earned the Congressional Medal of Honor for valor in combat. Soon after his second tour of duty, he had reached the rank of Gunnery Sergeant (the rank he was at now). He had gotten over the trauma of SOTF rather quickly, though he still did have the odd flashback, but he still hadn't wanted to go to the conference. His superiors literally ordered him to take a week's leave and appear at the conference. Looking around the hotel room, he tried to see anyone familiar, he would've even welcomed Jacob (who had almost killed him on the island). Seeing the two women conversing (he was too far away to hear exactly what they were saying, courtesy of an enemy grenade imparing his hearing) and the two familiar looking men, he walked over to the desk, not feeling like acknowledging them unless they tried to start a conversation.
"Hello, I'm here for the conference." he told the receptionist, who handed him a card.
"Name please."
"David Jackson." he said while signing the card.
Eventually the hotel door opened again, admitting a heavily muscled man with almost clean-shaven red hair wearing grey jeans and a red shirt with the Eagle Globe and Anchor emblazoned on the middle, a Congressional Medal of Honor pinned on the right side (he had debated it with himself, but decided he had the right to show off). His face looked a lot more mature and hardened than when he had been a participant in SOTF, but David Jackson, SOTF survivor and war hero, was still recognizable. Exactly one year after he had returned from SOTF, he had enlisted in the US Marines to fight in the war against Danya's people, which ended a bit afterwards. During his service, he had earned the Congressional Medal of Honor for valor in combat. Soon after his second tour of duty, he had reached the rank of Gunnery Sergeant (the rank he was at now). He had gotten over the trauma of SOTF rather quickly, though he still did have the odd flashback, but he still hadn't wanted to go to the conference. His superiors literally ordered him to take a week's leave and appear at the conference. Looking around the hotel room, he tried to see anyone familiar, he would've even welcomed Jacob (who had almost killed him on the island). Seeing the two women conversing (he was too far away to hear exactly what they were saying, courtesy of an enemy grenade imparing his hearing) and the two familiar looking men, he walked over to the desk, not feeling like acknowledging them unless they tried to start a conversation.
"Hello, I'm here for the conference." he told the receptionist, who handed him a card.
"Name please."
"David Jackson." he said while signing the card.
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the former handler Slayer.
There were so many people in the lobby that it was starting to make Clare nervous, but it would have been worse if she hadn’t known that most of them were there for the conference. She had never liked crowds much, but in certain circumstances she could deal with them, mainly being funerals and that exact moment because she either knew the people or knew how they were feeling and it was easier for her to process. At least there wasn’t a panic attack this time. When they arrived back on the mainland after being rescued from Survival of the Fittest the entire group had been mobbed by media and the few family members who could make it through. That had been the second worse experience of Clare’s life, the worst being the game itself. Five minutes after they were off the plane Clare had a panic attack and was removed from the throng by paramedics after she lost consciousness.
She licked her lips nervously and looked across the lobby towards the reception desk where a man with the look and mannerisms of a soldier was leaning over the desk, but she couldn’t put a name to the back of his head. A trio standing a short ways away looked familiar, but she still couldn’t place their names. Funny how not seeing people for over ten years will make them harder to recognize. She could probably name every student who participated in Survival of the Fittest by heart and recognize what they looked like ten-or-so years previous, but everyone had changed so much especially considering the rages of puberty had been left long behind.
“Am I truly getting too famous to hang out with a bunch of my old friends?”
Clare looked up and saw one of the people she had hoped to see standing there with a grin plastered across his face.
“Shit, Vince! Long time no see.” She grinned broadly and punched him playfully in the shoulder. Some things never changed, the least of which being Clare’s filthy mouth. “I’d ask where the fuck you’ve been hiding, but the television keeps me rather well informed…Not that I really watch football often.”
The young lady ran a hand through her reddish-brown hair to clear her vision.
“Sorry I haven’t written in a while, but I’ve had deadlines bearing down on me and there was a large traffic accident which, well, you probably don’t want details, but needless to say I’ve been rather swamped.” She was trying her hardest not to babble, but was failing miserably. “I’d ask if you’re doing well, but that’s pretty obvious, too.”
She licked her lips nervously and looked across the lobby towards the reception desk where a man with the look and mannerisms of a soldier was leaning over the desk, but she couldn’t put a name to the back of his head. A trio standing a short ways away looked familiar, but she still couldn’t place their names. Funny how not seeing people for over ten years will make them harder to recognize. She could probably name every student who participated in Survival of the Fittest by heart and recognize what they looked like ten-or-so years previous, but everyone had changed so much especially considering the rages of puberty had been left long behind.
“Am I truly getting too famous to hang out with a bunch of my old friends?”
Clare looked up and saw one of the people she had hoped to see standing there with a grin plastered across his face.
“Shit, Vince! Long time no see.” She grinned broadly and punched him playfully in the shoulder. Some things never changed, the least of which being Clare’s filthy mouth. “I’d ask where the fuck you’ve been hiding, but the television keeps me rather well informed…Not that I really watch football often.”
The young lady ran a hand through her reddish-brown hair to clear her vision.
“Sorry I haven’t written in a while, but I’ve had deadlines bearing down on me and there was a large traffic accident which, well, you probably don’t want details, but needless to say I’ve been rather swamped.” She was trying her hardest not to babble, but was failing miserably. “I’d ask if you’re doing well, but that’s pretty obvious, too.”
Amanda smiled at her two friends and watched as Vince handed Hawley a ring off his finger, and walked away. Blinking in a little bit of a surprise, she turned back towards her friends.
"I wouldn't miss this for the world. Mainly to see you guys again, but...I guess there's always been a little bit of me that was never really able to let go of the whole thing. Hopefully this'll help us all, right?"
Smiling at her friends, she couldn't help but give Madelaine a big hug in return for the one she'd given her earlier. It had been quite some time since her and Madelaine had spoken, and being back in the girl's presence gave her an odd sense of comfort. She supposed that was why on the island the two had gravitated towards one another. They shared some similiarities, and made each other feel comfortable in such a horrible situation. Besides the fact that they were both partly Asian, the bond between the two girls had been strong for all of high school, and even for the first few years of her post-secondary education. Of course, as some friendships do, the two girls drifted slightly apart, much of that having to do with the distance between them.
But here they were, fifteen years after the incident that brought them together in the first place, standing in the lobby of a hotel that was bringing everyone involved back together again.
"So hell, how ARE you two? I mean, you went off and got married - I am SO sorry I missed it, again...I was in Europe and there was no way I could get out of my obligations. You know I wouldn't have missed it if I had a choice..."
Trailing off, she realized her face had gotten serious, and broke into another smile, happier than she even realized to see her old friends once again.
"So it's hard to believe that we're coming back together again, isn't it? It's been fifteen years, and everyone's changed so much, I'd assume. I can't help but wonder how many people are even going to come...it'd be hard to get ahold of everyone, right?"
"I wouldn't miss this for the world. Mainly to see you guys again, but...I guess there's always been a little bit of me that was never really able to let go of the whole thing. Hopefully this'll help us all, right?"
Smiling at her friends, she couldn't help but give Madelaine a big hug in return for the one she'd given her earlier. It had been quite some time since her and Madelaine had spoken, and being back in the girl's presence gave her an odd sense of comfort. She supposed that was why on the island the two had gravitated towards one another. They shared some similiarities, and made each other feel comfortable in such a horrible situation. Besides the fact that they were both partly Asian, the bond between the two girls had been strong for all of high school, and even for the first few years of her post-secondary education. Of course, as some friendships do, the two girls drifted slightly apart, much of that having to do with the distance between them.
But here they were, fifteen years after the incident that brought them together in the first place, standing in the lobby of a hotel that was bringing everyone involved back together again.
"So hell, how ARE you two? I mean, you went off and got married - I am SO sorry I missed it, again...I was in Europe and there was no way I could get out of my obligations. You know I wouldn't have missed it if I had a choice..."
Trailing off, she realized her face had gotten serious, and broke into another smile, happier than she even realized to see her old friends once again.
"So it's hard to believe that we're coming back together again, isn't it? It's been fifteen years, and everyone's changed so much, I'd assume. I can't help but wonder how many people are even going to come...it'd be hard to get ahold of everyone, right?"
-
LadyMakaze†
- Posts: 475
- Joined: Fri Aug 17, 2018 9:48 pm
As the man she had been talking to earlier revealed himself as Vince Samsa, and from the sound of his words, Madelaine made out that he was some kind of sports celebirty of a sort. Of course, much like her husband it was like Madelaine to be ignorant about such things relating to sports, let alone football. Still, it surprised Madelaine, realizing how far people who had been part of SOTF had moved on like that, to become world famous celebrities of all sorts.
What surprised her even more was the diamond ring he presented, and gave, to Hawley. According to Vince, it was supposed to be an apology of sorts...one that was more than fifteen yaers due and concerning an incident that was long since buried in the past..
Wait a minute, aren't we going a bit overboard? Madelaine thought to herself, though she said nothing as Vince Samsa walked away to meet with other friends of the past. She blinked with uncertainty towards Hawley, but decided to let it go for now. She supposed it was Hawley's decision as to what to do with the undoubtedly valuable ring.
"Wonder what that was all about," Madelaine said, before shrugging and looking back towards both Amanda and Hawley. Amanda had been one of her closest friends since fifteen years ago, having met and bonded with her during the era of SOTF. The friendship that they shared was one that Madelaine treasured beyond almost everything else, seeing as they had practically depended on eachother to survive on that island. Now, however, was the first time they had been able to talk for more than six years, a moment that Madelaine had been anxiously hoping for, for quite some time now.
"Yeah," she replied, smiling lightly in agreement. "I really wanted to see you again. Well, we've being doing fine thus far." She smiled towards Hawley beside her before looking back towards Amanda. "We've pretty much settled down for a while when suddenly we got the invitation. And what about you, globe trotting and making a name for yourself all over the world?" She laughed a bit. "And don't worry about it, though I should show you pictures from the wedding one day."
Madelaine smiled brightly at the two of them, before shifting her gaze suddenly at a somewhat familiar form at the checkout desk. The appearance of this man in particular had changed since she saw him last, before he left to fight in the war, yet there was little room for mistake.
"Is that....David?" she asked in a hushed, excited tone. "That's him, right? He came too! We should say hi to him together."
It was then that she was suddenly reminded of another person...one that she had not seen present thus far. In fact, she had not seen this person in particular for a while, for a whole fifteen years as a matter of fact. She turned to Amanda, her smile fading slightly in a somewhat worried and anxious expression. Of all people, Madelaine knew that Amanda should know. She should know what had happened to this person in particular.
"Um, just to ask... have you been keeping in touch with Adam as of late, if at all?"
What surprised her even more was the diamond ring he presented, and gave, to Hawley. According to Vince, it was supposed to be an apology of sorts...one that was more than fifteen yaers due and concerning an incident that was long since buried in the past..
Wait a minute, aren't we going a bit overboard? Madelaine thought to herself, though she said nothing as Vince Samsa walked away to meet with other friends of the past. She blinked with uncertainty towards Hawley, but decided to let it go for now. She supposed it was Hawley's decision as to what to do with the undoubtedly valuable ring.
"Wonder what that was all about," Madelaine said, before shrugging and looking back towards both Amanda and Hawley. Amanda had been one of her closest friends since fifteen years ago, having met and bonded with her during the era of SOTF. The friendship that they shared was one that Madelaine treasured beyond almost everything else, seeing as they had practically depended on eachother to survive on that island. Now, however, was the first time they had been able to talk for more than six years, a moment that Madelaine had been anxiously hoping for, for quite some time now.
"Yeah," she replied, smiling lightly in agreement. "I really wanted to see you again. Well, we've being doing fine thus far." She smiled towards Hawley beside her before looking back towards Amanda. "We've pretty much settled down for a while when suddenly we got the invitation. And what about you, globe trotting and making a name for yourself all over the world?" She laughed a bit. "And don't worry about it, though I should show you pictures from the wedding one day."
Madelaine smiled brightly at the two of them, before shifting her gaze suddenly at a somewhat familiar form at the checkout desk. The appearance of this man in particular had changed since she saw him last, before he left to fight in the war, yet there was little room for mistake.
"Is that....David?" she asked in a hushed, excited tone. "That's him, right? He came too! We should say hi to him together."
It was then that she was suddenly reminded of another person...one that she had not seen present thus far. In fact, she had not seen this person in particular for a while, for a whole fifteen years as a matter of fact. She turned to Amanda, her smile fading slightly in a somewhat worried and anxious expression. Of all people, Madelaine knew that Amanda should know. She should know what had happened to this person in particular.
"Um, just to ask... have you been keeping in touch with Adam as of late, if at all?"
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler LadyMakaze. 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.