]As the other boy spoke, David's finger trembled on the trigger. He wasn't listening, wasn't focusing, wasn't even within a thousand miles of the island. For all that he knew, B086 had just pulled out a knife and slashed his throat and B029 would be ((DECEASED)) and then B034 and G071 and, well, B086 and 087 and everyone else too, because that was the point and that was why they were there and holy shit they were all going to die. If it wasn't B086 it would be B087 or B088 or B101010 or G3650 or maybe just everyone all at once. Someone was going to try to kill him, then someone else and someone else and eventually someone would get him. Everyone was going to kill him because only one person is leaving and everyone wants to be that person and no one wants to die. The anestheic fog was slowly lifting from around his brain and now he could think and oh god, he wanted the fog back. He was powerless and alone and going to die and it didn't even matter because hey, life would go on and now Kevin was shouting and...
Wait, what the fuck?
David's head shook and sweat flew off his face, splashing lighly on the parched floor in oh-so-clammy droplets, probably showering billions of tiny microbes all over the place or some such something. But that didn't matter because the others were speaking and it made sense, in an awful way. Stick together until we have to kill each other. Hell, whatever. Live forever or die trying. It'd work out, maybe. But now Kevin was speaking again, this time to him and about something. And he was right, again. B029 had the gun, and that made everyone his responsibility, and now he had a goal and a purpose and maybe now he wasn't [theywereall] going to die.
"Yeah, I guess you're right. You all probably need to just hang out in here. Won't do much good to have us all get attacked. But promise to come save me if you hear gunshots or me screaming like a little girl or something like that. 'Kay?
David's nod and David's voice and David's face didn't give the slightest sign of his inner turmoil- they were calculated and calm as if he had spent his entire life practicing for this moment. He had the Gun, and if he looked scared then everyone else would be terrified. Red jackets, never let them see you bleed.
Hah. More like Brown pants.
A little bit self-conciously, David stepped lightly over to the door and peered out of it, scanning the distant treeline with his eyes. There were trees and grass and dirt and a skyand clouds and...
Ah. Girl.
She was standing at the edge of the shack and looked to utterly lost and alone that his heart all but bled for her. She was stuck here just as much as they were, and was just as doomed, just as dead, and...
No. Focus. Break down later.
He put the gun in his back pocket and kept his hands openly out to his side and stepped towards her, all strength and reassurance because she was alone and he had the gun and he could keep her safe. And then they would maybe all be alright. He'd make it so.
"Hi there. Um, are you hurt?"
The Outsider
Kevin Warick - Start
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Fullcircle†
- Posts: 9
- Joined: Mon Sep 10, 2018 5:00 am
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Fullcircle. 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.
David (Anderson, that is) looked around at the others and forced a smile. "Alright. We can stay here for a while, I'm guessing, but we'll need to move somewhere before too long, or someone will find us."
Relaxing a bit, David let himself slide down into a sitting position. "Thank God I ran into someone." His voice is just a murmur; he closed his eyes for a moment and took a deep breath to clear his mind a bit. "David, you've got the gun. How many shots do you have with it?"
And all I got was a [BLEEP]ing pool cue. Great...well, I guess it beats an eight ball or something like that.
"In case we have to deal with someone else with a gun."
The girl outside escaped David's notice at first. David happened to be just a bit too focused on the situation at hand, trying to figure out something to do, and keeping his mind from going crazy with the reality of the overall situation he faced...killing other kids he knew, probably being killed...you know, standard fare for this show. His attention was on something else he'd heard mentioned just before he came in.
"In the meantime...I heard someone here had some whiskey? Because I could really use a drink right now."
Deep down inside, David suspected they all could. He was doing his best to appear at most stressed. Inside, his stomach was all knots. He didn't want to get smashed...oh, alright, in spite of never drinking, he'd have loved to get smashed right now, but he couldn't afford to, what with everyone under orders to kill everyone else...but he figured that a sip could help with his mood.
"Hi there. Um, are you hurt?"
"What? Who's out there?"
David's stomach did a leap...he'd really been hoping not to have to run into more people after finding a group. Too many people tended to equal bad things sooner rather than later, and it's something he wasn't prepared to face just yet.
Relaxing a bit, David let himself slide down into a sitting position. "Thank God I ran into someone." His voice is just a murmur; he closed his eyes for a moment and took a deep breath to clear his mind a bit. "David, you've got the gun. How many shots do you have with it?"
And all I got was a [BLEEP]ing pool cue. Great...well, I guess it beats an eight ball or something like that.
"In case we have to deal with someone else with a gun."
The girl outside escaped David's notice at first. David happened to be just a bit too focused on the situation at hand, trying to figure out something to do, and keeping his mind from going crazy with the reality of the overall situation he faced...killing other kids he knew, probably being killed...you know, standard fare for this show. His attention was on something else he'd heard mentioned just before he came in.
"In the meantime...I heard someone here had some whiskey? Because I could really use a drink right now."
Deep down inside, David suspected they all could. He was doing his best to appear at most stressed. Inside, his stomach was all knots. He didn't want to get smashed...oh, alright, in spite of never drinking, he'd have loved to get smashed right now, but he couldn't afford to, what with everyone under orders to kill everyone else...but he figured that a sip could help with his mood.
"Hi there. Um, are you hurt?"
"What? Who's out there?"
David's stomach did a leap...he'd really been hoping not to have to run into more people after finding a group. Too many people tended to equal bad things sooner rather than later, and it's something he wasn't prepared to face just yet.
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AtomicWaffle†
- Posts: 230
- Joined: Sun Jan 27, 2019 6:55 am
Ive been down on my luck
Been down too long this time
Ive drank em to the bottom
Til I found myself there too
Kevin looked up at David Anderson and shrugged. Whatever it was in the bottle, it wasn't sitting well with him. Kevin usually didn't get this woozy off of the amount he'd drank, and... damn, did it feel fucking awful. The bottle felt heavy in his hands, so he slid it into the big, inner pockets of his overcoat. As he looked at the relatively open area outside, Kevin suddenly felt it very foreboding. A particularly cold gust of wind blew in through the doorway, and sent a chill down Kevin's spine. The bleak, open space outside put him at an extreme discomfort. He'd awoken in the shack, he'd gotten comfortable in the shack, and now there was this entirely new environment that he would have to get used to dying in.
"If I weren't probably most likely going to die, I wouldn't be drinking it. That's how it tastes, and feels."
And the taste of defeat
Had never been so sweet
So I poured another glass
Failed again and again
His long hair blew in front of his eyes in the gentle breeze. The sound of gunshots, and distant screams could be faintly heard. In the shack, he was more or less sheltered from the din, and it was now uncomfortably noticeable. Four, maybe five gunshots. That meant at least four or five people could've been killed in the past minute and a half. Kevin was... well, shocked. Of course there were some aggressive, maybe even opportunistic students at Bayview... But murder?
What the fuck? They were all told if no one died, they all would. It was difficult for Kevin to accept, how could any of his peers, people he might've called friends... done this? Was it that easy for them to just throw life away, with everything they had to look forward to?
"We're... high school kids, for fuck sakes...."
Kevin wasn't talking to anyone in particular, but he could barely manage to speak through the tears. Openly, hopelessly, he began to sob. There weren't words to describe how harsh and unforgiving a reality Kevin now felt he faced. They were fucked. It didn't matter how hard you tried, the game was all chance. There were so many things on the island that didn't even give you a chance; you couldn't beg for your life, you were just put down like a sick animal. For what? Someone's own fucked up rationale on taking lives for themselves? Sorry, no. That wasn't going to work. That's not how Kevin did things.
"Not my... eheh.... not what I... Ohh... my God."
I've been down
And ive been higher then Sears Tower
I asked the higher powers
If they could just spare a drink
Did they answer my cries?
I wish they did they're preoccupied
I toasted them boasted to them
That they had met their match
Helpless. That's all it was. Kevin just felt helpless. For years, he'd just fell through the cracks. Made a few dollars playing some jazz, made a few Youtube videos, and that was about it. No real responsibility, no reason to make any impact on the world around him or actually move forward in life. It never really occurred to him how much he'd been wasting his life. What did he do, really? Nothing. Nothing anyone would ever really make a point of remembering him for. If he'd heard the telltale beep of his collar going off, what life would REALLY flash before his eyes? Most of it was slept away, or wasted getting high as fuck for no decent reason. Was there even a decent reason for doing any of the stupid shit he had done?
"...Stupid shit... Yeah, here's some."
Nursing was an appropriate description of what Kevin was doing to the bottle of scotch before. Now it seemed the most appropriate term would be 'guzzling.'
But as long as there is whiskey in the world
We can drink away the heartache
We can drink away the girls
Oh we long to love but we never touch
As long as there is whiskey in the world
Thoughts of the students that had been killed, whoever they were, and of the awful things he'd seen and been told when they were first introduced the program, and of the gradual accumulation of students in the shack... all seemed to slip away. It melded into the collective blur of the last day, that he really wished would disappear. Kevin never really drank to carouse in the first place. This... this was something different though. There was a certain suicidal air that, in some back corner of his mind, scared him more than the game ever could.
I have loved
But I've lost all that they gave me
They all try to save me
But I'm seeing this thing through
And these feelings of remorse
They leave me no recourse
So I pour another glass
Fail again and again
Taking the bottle from his lips, he took a look around the shack. It was the office or house of some miners, obviously working at the nearby mine. Kevin couldn't see too far around the shack. Fuck, it didn't matter. The shack wasn't a "dangerzone", no one was out to cause any havoc... right now, at least. At least until someone decided they didn't like shacks, or people in them. Then they'd get out their guns, and have to think about it for a second, then their survival instinct would kick in and... that would suck, bad. Oh, it would be really annoying. Because, they'd start to...
Oh, fuck that too. It didn't matter. Either way, by weeks end he'd be dead if he didn't drink himself to death already. Stone fucking dead. Pushing up daisies. He would be an ex-student.
But as long as there is whiskey in the world
We can drink away the heartache
We can drink away the girls
Oh we long to love but we never touch
As long as there is whiskey in the world
The other David, and the girl who was screaming were outside of the shack some feet away. She wasn't screaming anymore, and he looked like maybe he was trying to calm her down. That was nice of him. At least someone could find enough reserves of bullshit in the back of their mind to fake being concerned, look someone in the eyes and tell them it was all going to be okay. What a crock of shit. You don't care. You don't even pretend to care, because doing that's giving someone false hope. That's worse than not giving a flying fuck in the first place. But who was he to judge, after all... Kevin was imbibing the liquid equivalent of carelessness.
I DON'T WANT TO BE SAVED
As he strode back towards the shack, he threw the now-empty bottle of scotch towards the ground, where it shattered quite spectacularly. The old, powdered glass almost seemed to explode on contact with the ground. He found some difficulty walking back up the three steps leading into the small room, but once he entered a feeling of calm once again swept over him. This was his space... If he was going to die on this island, he would prefer if it was here. It was...
Safe?
As long as there is whiskey in the world
Been down too long this time
Ive drank em to the bottom
Til I found myself there too
Kevin looked up at David Anderson and shrugged. Whatever it was in the bottle, it wasn't sitting well with him. Kevin usually didn't get this woozy off of the amount he'd drank, and... damn, did it feel fucking awful. The bottle felt heavy in his hands, so he slid it into the big, inner pockets of his overcoat. As he looked at the relatively open area outside, Kevin suddenly felt it very foreboding. A particularly cold gust of wind blew in through the doorway, and sent a chill down Kevin's spine. The bleak, open space outside put him at an extreme discomfort. He'd awoken in the shack, he'd gotten comfortable in the shack, and now there was this entirely new environment that he would have to get used to dying in.
"If I weren't probably most likely going to die, I wouldn't be drinking it. That's how it tastes, and feels."
And the taste of defeat
Had never been so sweet
So I poured another glass
Failed again and again
His long hair blew in front of his eyes in the gentle breeze. The sound of gunshots, and distant screams could be faintly heard. In the shack, he was more or less sheltered from the din, and it was now uncomfortably noticeable. Four, maybe five gunshots. That meant at least four or five people could've been killed in the past minute and a half. Kevin was... well, shocked. Of course there were some aggressive, maybe even opportunistic students at Bayview... But murder?
What the fuck? They were all told if no one died, they all would. It was difficult for Kevin to accept, how could any of his peers, people he might've called friends... done this? Was it that easy for them to just throw life away, with everything they had to look forward to?
"We're... high school kids, for fuck sakes...."
Kevin wasn't talking to anyone in particular, but he could barely manage to speak through the tears. Openly, hopelessly, he began to sob. There weren't words to describe how harsh and unforgiving a reality Kevin now felt he faced. They were fucked. It didn't matter how hard you tried, the game was all chance. There were so many things on the island that didn't even give you a chance; you couldn't beg for your life, you were just put down like a sick animal. For what? Someone's own fucked up rationale on taking lives for themselves? Sorry, no. That wasn't going to work. That's not how Kevin did things.
"Not my... eheh.... not what I... Ohh... my God."
I've been down
And ive been higher then Sears Tower
I asked the higher powers
If they could just spare a drink
Did they answer my cries?
I wish they did they're preoccupied
I toasted them boasted to them
That they had met their match
Helpless. That's all it was. Kevin just felt helpless. For years, he'd just fell through the cracks. Made a few dollars playing some jazz, made a few Youtube videos, and that was about it. No real responsibility, no reason to make any impact on the world around him or actually move forward in life. It never really occurred to him how much he'd been wasting his life. What did he do, really? Nothing. Nothing anyone would ever really make a point of remembering him for. If he'd heard the telltale beep of his collar going off, what life would REALLY flash before his eyes? Most of it was slept away, or wasted getting high as fuck for no decent reason. Was there even a decent reason for doing any of the stupid shit he had done?
"...Stupid shit... Yeah, here's some."
Nursing was an appropriate description of what Kevin was doing to the bottle of scotch before. Now it seemed the most appropriate term would be 'guzzling.'
But as long as there is whiskey in the world
We can drink away the heartache
We can drink away the girls
Oh we long to love but we never touch
As long as there is whiskey in the world
Thoughts of the students that had been killed, whoever they were, and of the awful things he'd seen and been told when they were first introduced the program, and of the gradual accumulation of students in the shack... all seemed to slip away. It melded into the collective blur of the last day, that he really wished would disappear. Kevin never really drank to carouse in the first place. This... this was something different though. There was a certain suicidal air that, in some back corner of his mind, scared him more than the game ever could.
I have loved
But I've lost all that they gave me
They all try to save me
But I'm seeing this thing through
And these feelings of remorse
They leave me no recourse
So I pour another glass
Fail again and again
Taking the bottle from his lips, he took a look around the shack. It was the office or house of some miners, obviously working at the nearby mine. Kevin couldn't see too far around the shack. Fuck, it didn't matter. The shack wasn't a "dangerzone", no one was out to cause any havoc... right now, at least. At least until someone decided they didn't like shacks, or people in them. Then they'd get out their guns, and have to think about it for a second, then their survival instinct would kick in and... that would suck, bad. Oh, it would be really annoying. Because, they'd start to...
Oh, fuck that too. It didn't matter. Either way, by weeks end he'd be dead if he didn't drink himself to death already. Stone fucking dead. Pushing up daisies. He would be an ex-student.
But as long as there is whiskey in the world
We can drink away the heartache
We can drink away the girls
Oh we long to love but we never touch
As long as there is whiskey in the world
The other David, and the girl who was screaming were outside of the shack some feet away. She wasn't screaming anymore, and he looked like maybe he was trying to calm her down. That was nice of him. At least someone could find enough reserves of bullshit in the back of their mind to fake being concerned, look someone in the eyes and tell them it was all going to be okay. What a crock of shit. You don't care. You don't even pretend to care, because doing that's giving someone false hope. That's worse than not giving a flying fuck in the first place. But who was he to judge, after all... Kevin was imbibing the liquid equivalent of carelessness.
I DON'T WANT TO BE SAVED
As he strode back towards the shack, he threw the now-empty bottle of scotch towards the ground, where it shattered quite spectacularly. The old, powdered glass almost seemed to explode on contact with the ground. He found some difficulty walking back up the three steps leading into the small room, but once he entered a feeling of calm once again swept over him. This was his space... If he was going to die on this island, he would prefer if it was here. It was...
Safe?
As long as there is whiskey in the world
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the former handler AtomicWaffle.
What you need to do now, Charlie DuClare, is make friends with these boys.
And it starts with liking them. Genuinely liking them. You're kinda shit when it comes to lying and pretending, so you're going to have to honestly believe in all of this. You're going to have to think of things you appreciate about these boys, and then get to work appreciating them. Or else they're going to see through you and hate you and you'll be out on your ass. You will be alone, you will be defenseless, and why? Because you couldn't keep your stupid bitchy tendencies in check. You can't let that happen. You can't let that happen. Do you understand?
She did.
She started with Kevin. Not Jimmy, Kevin. This one was pretty easy, wasn't it? He seemed really calm, really mellow. He was pretty good on that sax. He didn't mind sharing his scotch with his new friends. As weird and geeky as the guy looked, he almost seemed like... a leader. A natural leader. He was already leading this group, wasn't he? Taking stock of the situation, commanding his gun-wielding soldier to defend the shack. He seemed comfortable with it. Someone they could all trust and listen to. Or if we're tired of listening to him, make him play something nice on the sax and listen to that.
Then there was David. David Matson, sure, let's go with that one first. He can be Dave. Dave seemed like he was pretty alright too! He was pretty brave to step outside and see what was going on, wasn't he? Even if he had a gun, it was a pretty big risk. And he was already willing to make that risk for the group. Good guy. And he seemed like he had a sense of humor too. Didn't take himself too seriously. Could self-deprecate. That would be useful, wouldn't it? Cheer everyone else up, keep everything light. Keep everyone sane. Hopefully not annoy the hell out of everyone by trying to bring the funnies every ten seconds.
Then there was the other David. Anderson, and he was- oh Christ no, fuck this, I can't take this anymore. I'm not... fuck it, this isn't like me, this is just stupid. I hate this. How about I take a break for now. Forcing yourself to like people, it turned out, was hard. Maybe it'd be easier later? Yes. It'd definitely be easier later. After they'd saved each others' lives, maybe. After they'd bonded some more. That's how friendships work, right? You spend time with them and you figure out things you like about them, and then eventually you're friends.
Eventually.
But uh, maybe not if shit like this keeps happening.
Some gunshots in the distance, and Kevin took the opportunity to bitch and moan and cry and blubber out some self-pitying bullshit. Oh fuck you, Kevin, grow a pair. I literally JUST finished telling myself about what a calm, confident leader you are, and then you pull this shit? Fuck you, fuck your squirrely little face and your shitty saxophone playing and your drunken pity party. I'm out of here, I'm taking all my shit and I'm leaving and I'm finding some friends who don't suck.
Except she didn't.
Of course she didn't. Because everything was still quite terrifying. And it'd stay that way in the conceivable future, so Charlie really didn't have an option. Besides, she'd promised, hadn't she? She'd told herself she'd never leave their side. And she'd never leave their side and she'd never leave their side and she'd never leave their side. So if Kevin wasn't going to grow a pair, maybe she needed to. She winced a little as he smashed his empty bottle on the ground- Christ, at least you're finished, you fucking drunk- and she walked over to where he was sitting and she knelt down. And she did her best impression of caring.
"Hey, Kevin, I... I know this is really scary. I mean, I'm scared too, and I think Dave and David are, so... so I think we need you, Kevin. Hey, remember when you told Dave he should go check things out with his gun? That was awesome, that kicked ass!" She let out a nervous little laugh. Strangely enough, she didn't need to force it. "You were being a great group leader." Paused for a second, bit her lip. "Hey... I think I miss that Kevin, a little. Do you think we can have him back? I mean... if you're really freaked, I think I can volunteer to take over as leader, but... I think I'd like for you to stay on. You're pretty good at it." Nodded towards the saxophone. "And you're the reason we're all here anyway."
She turned around and looked at David. "Yeah? Back me up here. We all think Kevin is an awesome leader, right?"
And she really did and she really did and she really really did.
And it starts with liking them. Genuinely liking them. You're kinda shit when it comes to lying and pretending, so you're going to have to honestly believe in all of this. You're going to have to think of things you appreciate about these boys, and then get to work appreciating them. Or else they're going to see through you and hate you and you'll be out on your ass. You will be alone, you will be defenseless, and why? Because you couldn't keep your stupid bitchy tendencies in check. You can't let that happen. You can't let that happen. Do you understand?
She did.
She started with Kevin. Not Jimmy, Kevin. This one was pretty easy, wasn't it? He seemed really calm, really mellow. He was pretty good on that sax. He didn't mind sharing his scotch with his new friends. As weird and geeky as the guy looked, he almost seemed like... a leader. A natural leader. He was already leading this group, wasn't he? Taking stock of the situation, commanding his gun-wielding soldier to defend the shack. He seemed comfortable with it. Someone they could all trust and listen to. Or if we're tired of listening to him, make him play something nice on the sax and listen to that.
Then there was David. David Matson, sure, let's go with that one first. He can be Dave. Dave seemed like he was pretty alright too! He was pretty brave to step outside and see what was going on, wasn't he? Even if he had a gun, it was a pretty big risk. And he was already willing to make that risk for the group. Good guy. And he seemed like he had a sense of humor too. Didn't take himself too seriously. Could self-deprecate. That would be useful, wouldn't it? Cheer everyone else up, keep everything light. Keep everyone sane. Hopefully not annoy the hell out of everyone by trying to bring the funnies every ten seconds.
Then there was the other David. Anderson, and he was- oh Christ no, fuck this, I can't take this anymore. I'm not... fuck it, this isn't like me, this is just stupid. I hate this. How about I take a break for now. Forcing yourself to like people, it turned out, was hard. Maybe it'd be easier later? Yes. It'd definitely be easier later. After they'd saved each others' lives, maybe. After they'd bonded some more. That's how friendships work, right? You spend time with them and you figure out things you like about them, and then eventually you're friends.
Eventually.
But uh, maybe not if shit like this keeps happening.
Some gunshots in the distance, and Kevin took the opportunity to bitch and moan and cry and blubber out some self-pitying bullshit. Oh fuck you, Kevin, grow a pair. I literally JUST finished telling myself about what a calm, confident leader you are, and then you pull this shit? Fuck you, fuck your squirrely little face and your shitty saxophone playing and your drunken pity party. I'm out of here, I'm taking all my shit and I'm leaving and I'm finding some friends who don't suck.
Except she didn't.
Of course she didn't. Because everything was still quite terrifying. And it'd stay that way in the conceivable future, so Charlie really didn't have an option. Besides, she'd promised, hadn't she? She'd told herself she'd never leave their side. And she'd never leave their side and she'd never leave their side and she'd never leave their side. So if Kevin wasn't going to grow a pair, maybe she needed to. She winced a little as he smashed his empty bottle on the ground- Christ, at least you're finished, you fucking drunk- and she walked over to where he was sitting and she knelt down. And she did her best impression of caring.
"Hey, Kevin, I... I know this is really scary. I mean, I'm scared too, and I think Dave and David are, so... so I think we need you, Kevin. Hey, remember when you told Dave he should go check things out with his gun? That was awesome, that kicked ass!" She let out a nervous little laugh. Strangely enough, she didn't need to force it. "You were being a great group leader." Paused for a second, bit her lip. "Hey... I think I miss that Kevin, a little. Do you think we can have him back? I mean... if you're really freaked, I think I can volunteer to take over as leader, but... I think I'd like for you to stay on. You're pretty good at it." Nodded towards the saxophone. "And you're the reason we're all here anyway."
She turned around and looked at David. "Yeah? Back me up here. We all think Kevin is an awesome leader, right?"
And she really did and she really did and she really really did.
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Jonny. 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.
-
banthesun†
- Posts: 73
- Joined: Sat Sep 01, 2018 5:49 am
The boy turned round, and for the first time Vanessa noticed he had a gun. Was he going to shoot her now? That'd make sense. Vanessa stood before him strangely calm, waiting for him.
But he didn't shoot her. He put the gun away and called out to her. He even asked if she was alright! Perhaps he wasn't corrupted by those whores after all!
Vanessa's arms fell loosely at her side, she felt like hugging this man, who was here to protect her, with his gun against the island of bitches, this hero she'd been delivered. Not that she would hug him, of course, she wasn't that type of loser. Still, she advanced towards him, her mouth hanging open in a massive smile, her whole face a shining with gratitude.
But then, as a bottle shattered against the ground, so did the illusion Vanessa was holding on to. The other boy was just as bad as she should have expected, drinking and smashing things. Why was she assuming this boy was any different? What if, under all his openness and apparent care, he was just trying to lure her in? To trick her like everyone else did, all those pretend friendships evaporating away. Why would this be any different?
Vanessa's glanced round in panic before her eyes settled on the door to the cabin. What she saw from her new angle caught a lump in her throat. A flash of dark brown hair. Vanessa heard a voice. Her worst fears were confirmed.
She was too late; one of the bitches had gotten here first. She'd taken Vanessa's protector and fed him her poison. Now they were just a bunch of stupid assholes.
A rage grew inside Vanessa's heart. This had happened too many times. Now, on this island, it had finally come down to do or die. Vanessa knew that the girl inside was going to kill her, given the chance. Vanessa would have to stop her. Perhaps, while she was at it, she could stop the endless torment those bitches so loved bringing to those who stood against them. Perhaps she could even free some of those idiots from their spell, assuming they weren't too far gone. Maybe Vanessa should have thanked Danya for this chance to end it.
Clutching tightly upon the rope of her weapon, Vanessa drew the middle taunt. She payed no heed to all the idiot boys as she charged into the shack; she was fixated on her target. Vanessa would take that bitch; she'd drive her to the ground and crush the life out her with the rope before anyone had a chance to react!
Screaming with rage, Vanessa launched herself at her foe.
But he didn't shoot her. He put the gun away and called out to her. He even asked if she was alright! Perhaps he wasn't corrupted by those whores after all!
Vanessa's arms fell loosely at her side, she felt like hugging this man, who was here to protect her, with his gun against the island of bitches, this hero she'd been delivered. Not that she would hug him, of course, she wasn't that type of loser. Still, she advanced towards him, her mouth hanging open in a massive smile, her whole face a shining with gratitude.
But then, as a bottle shattered against the ground, so did the illusion Vanessa was holding on to. The other boy was just as bad as she should have expected, drinking and smashing things. Why was she assuming this boy was any different? What if, under all his openness and apparent care, he was just trying to lure her in? To trick her like everyone else did, all those pretend friendships evaporating away. Why would this be any different?
Vanessa's glanced round in panic before her eyes settled on the door to the cabin. What she saw from her new angle caught a lump in her throat. A flash of dark brown hair. Vanessa heard a voice. Her worst fears were confirmed.
She was too late; one of the bitches had gotten here first. She'd taken Vanessa's protector and fed him her poison. Now they were just a bunch of stupid assholes.
A rage grew inside Vanessa's heart. This had happened too many times. Now, on this island, it had finally come down to do or die. Vanessa knew that the girl inside was going to kill her, given the chance. Vanessa would have to stop her. Perhaps, while she was at it, she could stop the endless torment those bitches so loved bringing to those who stood against them. Perhaps she could even free some of those idiots from their spell, assuming they weren't too far gone. Maybe Vanessa should have thanked Danya for this chance to end it.
Clutching tightly upon the rope of her weapon, Vanessa drew the middle taunt. She payed no heed to all the idiot boys as she charged into the shack; she was fixated on her target. Vanessa would take that bitch; she'd drive her to the ground and crush the life out her with the rope before anyone had a chance to react!
Screaming with rage, Vanessa launched herself at her foe.
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler banthesun. While this handler hasn't been around in quite a while, should they return and wish to take custody of this account and/or its posts, they are welcome to do so by contacting staff.
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Fullcircle†
- Posts: 9
- Joined: Mon Sep 10, 2018 5:00 am
((GMing approved by banthesun))
It's great how things just come to you sometimes.
As the girl stood from her seat upon the ground, David smiled a little and took another step. The soft crunch of his shoe upon the dirt was the only sound in the world, this girl the only other person. As she saw his approach, she stood and her face lit up with a happy smile, like she had been caught out in a storm and had finally found someone with an umbrella. She moved toward him as well, and for an infinitely short moment David let himself think that everything would be okay. This girl trusted him, had never spoken to him before, had never seen him before aside from possibly passing one another in the hallways, and yet she seemed to believe he could help her- and if she was so trusting surely there would be others who felt the same. And, in this moment, David was sure that he and his new allies could bring them all together, and they could try and get off this godforsaken island and go home and everything would be fine. No one would have to die. Everything would be fine. He opened his mouth to speak, forming letters into words into sentences in his head i'm david who are you would you like to come inside when something broke inside the house and everything shattered.
It started with a change in her expression, recognition on her face, and then the girl was on her feet and flying past him, a scream in her throat and murder in her eyes. She smashed the door open and dashed towards Charlie, Charlie who wasn't even looking, bolas already swinging into what would surely be a traumatic blow from behind. Time seemed to slow to a standstill as this girl made her last charge, fueled by fear and hurt and rage and David knew again that everyone was going to die.
But that didn't mean Charlie had to go first, and he could change that. And now his gun was in his hand and sliding out of his pocket and thank God, it hadn't caught on anything. And now it was at eye level and he could see the girl, nothing but a target at the end of the cold steel barrel; and now the gun was no longer a burden but a familiar weight in his hand and a friend, and the gunshot split the air like an ax through bone, and now the moment was over.
The girl was still standing, with blood splattered across her back and a few tiny droplets baptizing the ground at her feet. It had stopped her and everyone was alright. Except for her, and she would never be alright ever again- and that was his fault.
As the girl hit the ground and the gun lowered, David felt a new weight settle upon his shoulders. She was still breathing now, but there was nothing he could do to save her and when she did die, it would be his fault. Her had killed her just as surely as if she had dropped dead on the spot- he had robbed parents of a daughter and siblings of a sister, torn this girl away from her friends and romance and her own life, and he was responsible.
David felt like a murderer.
Yes, it's grand how things just come to you.
It's great how things just come to you sometimes.
As the girl stood from her seat upon the ground, David smiled a little and took another step. The soft crunch of his shoe upon the dirt was the only sound in the world, this girl the only other person. As she saw his approach, she stood and her face lit up with a happy smile, like she had been caught out in a storm and had finally found someone with an umbrella. She moved toward him as well, and for an infinitely short moment David let himself think that everything would be okay. This girl trusted him, had never spoken to him before, had never seen him before aside from possibly passing one another in the hallways, and yet she seemed to believe he could help her- and if she was so trusting surely there would be others who felt the same. And, in this moment, David was sure that he and his new allies could bring them all together, and they could try and get off this godforsaken island and go home and everything would be fine. No one would have to die. Everything would be fine. He opened his mouth to speak, forming letters into words into sentences in his head i'm david who are you would you like to come inside when something broke inside the house and everything shattered.
It started with a change in her expression, recognition on her face, and then the girl was on her feet and flying past him, a scream in her throat and murder in her eyes. She smashed the door open and dashed towards Charlie, Charlie who wasn't even looking, bolas already swinging into what would surely be a traumatic blow from behind. Time seemed to slow to a standstill as this girl made her last charge, fueled by fear and hurt and rage and David knew again that everyone was going to die.
But that didn't mean Charlie had to go first, and he could change that. And now his gun was in his hand and sliding out of his pocket and thank God, it hadn't caught on anything. And now it was at eye level and he could see the girl, nothing but a target at the end of the cold steel barrel; and now the gun was no longer a burden but a familiar weight in his hand and a friend, and the gunshot split the air like an ax through bone, and now the moment was over.
The girl was still standing, with blood splattered across her back and a few tiny droplets baptizing the ground at her feet. It had stopped her and everyone was alright. Except for her, and she would never be alright ever again- and that was his fault.
As the girl hit the ground and the gun lowered, David felt a new weight settle upon his shoulders. She was still breathing now, but there was nothing he could do to save her and when she did die, it would be his fault. Her had killed her just as surely as if she had dropped dead on the spot- he had robbed parents of a daughter and siblings of a sister, torn this girl away from her friends and romance and her own life, and he was responsible.
David felt like a murderer.
Yes, it's grand how things just come to you.
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Fullcircle. 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.
David's jaw dropped at the sight and sound of (the other) David shooting Vanessa.
"...what the hell?"
Stepping towards the two, he looked over David standing there, looking at Vanessa's body. The look on his face as he looked at the body was somewhere between shock and confusion, with a bit of anger at the killing thrown in.
"What the hell just happened?"
And then, looking more closely at the dying body, David felt a wave of something intangible overcome him. He forced himself to breathe as he felt a cold sweat emerge on his face, and a sudden feeling of vertigo.
Did he just kill her? Yeah, he did...
Sitting down to avoid collapsing, David nearly threw up on the ground. He felt it coming, but through some miracle, though he gagged visibly at the sight he did not actually barf all over the ground. He also managed to force himself not to cry or yell or run away. He just closed his eyes to gather himself for a few moments...
"I think I need that drink. Now."
Staggering to his feet, David extended a hand for the bottle. He has a look of someone who's seen way too much for a (Day? Year? Lifetime?), and is having trouble comprehending the fact that it is, in fact, only going to get worse from here if he manages to survive.
"...what the hell?"
Stepping towards the two, he looked over David standing there, looking at Vanessa's body. The look on his face as he looked at the body was somewhere between shock and confusion, with a bit of anger at the killing thrown in.
"What the hell just happened?"
And then, looking more closely at the dying body, David felt a wave of something intangible overcome him. He forced himself to breathe as he felt a cold sweat emerge on his face, and a sudden feeling of vertigo.
Did he just kill her? Yeah, he did...
Sitting down to avoid collapsing, David nearly threw up on the ground. He felt it coming, but through some miracle, though he gagged visibly at the sight he did not actually barf all over the ground. He also managed to force himself not to cry or yell or run away. He just closed his eyes to gather himself for a few moments...
"I think I need that drink. Now."
Staggering to his feet, David extended a hand for the bottle. He has a look of someone who's seen way too much for a (Day? Year? Lifetime?), and is having trouble comprehending the fact that it is, in fact, only going to get worse from here if he manages to survive.
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AtomicWaffle†
- Posts: 230
- Joined: Sun Jan 27, 2019 6:55 am
((Don't expect much, my brain is a bit squishy these days))
On account of the alcohol most of the world had became a haze, and to Kevin that was completely acceptable given the current situation. He didn't want to have enough coherent thought to be frightened or even aware of what was going on. Generally he felt numb, and it was getting harder and harder for him to stand, let alone think. Good. Hopefully he'd just pass out somewhere, and be done with it. Fuck it all.
It almost felt like an entire year before he was actually able to react, but from behind him he heard a scream, and then a gunshot cutting it out quite quickly. His delayed reflexes still enabled him to turn around quickly and see the girl that was outside of the shack now lying dead on the ground. It was... it was....
Funny?
As he saw the girl crumple in a heap, Kevin couldn't help himself. He just started to laugh. Giggling, almost. It was a sad, almost defeated sense of amusement. On some mangled subconscious level, Kevin found the prospect of their hopelessness absolutely hilarious. Still laughing, he stumbled over to the inside of the shack where he'd left his coat, daypack, and saxophone case. It took him no small degree of effort to gather all of his belongings, trying not to drop them as he did so. Walking inside he glanced briefly at the others, who just appeared to be in complete shock.
He then wasted no time in walking out of the shack, and standing in front of the David with the gun. Matson? Maybe. The look of bemusement still spread across Kevin's face, he spoke up, slurring his words only slightly.
"David... Hehehe... Goodffucking luck withthat. I'm gonna gho...."
Kevin pointed vaguely in the direction of the coastline.
"Go somewhere to die. Have ffffff-un."
So he did just that. Case in hand, he wandered towards what he could only assume to be the coast. Mines were so boring.
((Kevin Warick continued in Milk of Human Kindness))
On account of the alcohol most of the world had became a haze, and to Kevin that was completely acceptable given the current situation. He didn't want to have enough coherent thought to be frightened or even aware of what was going on. Generally he felt numb, and it was getting harder and harder for him to stand, let alone think. Good. Hopefully he'd just pass out somewhere, and be done with it. Fuck it all.
It almost felt like an entire year before he was actually able to react, but from behind him he heard a scream, and then a gunshot cutting it out quite quickly. His delayed reflexes still enabled him to turn around quickly and see the girl that was outside of the shack now lying dead on the ground. It was... it was....
Funny?
As he saw the girl crumple in a heap, Kevin couldn't help himself. He just started to laugh. Giggling, almost. It was a sad, almost defeated sense of amusement. On some mangled subconscious level, Kevin found the prospect of their hopelessness absolutely hilarious. Still laughing, he stumbled over to the inside of the shack where he'd left his coat, daypack, and saxophone case. It took him no small degree of effort to gather all of his belongings, trying not to drop them as he did so. Walking inside he glanced briefly at the others, who just appeared to be in complete shock.
He then wasted no time in walking out of the shack, and standing in front of the David with the gun. Matson? Maybe. The look of bemusement still spread across Kevin's face, he spoke up, slurring his words only slightly.
"David... Hehehe... Goodffucking luck withthat. I'm gonna gho...."
Kevin pointed vaguely in the direction of the coastline.
"Go somewhere to die. Have ffffff-un."
So he did just that. Case in hand, he wandered towards what he could only assume to be the coast. Mines were so boring.
((Kevin Warick continued in Milk of Human Kindness))
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the former handler AtomicWaffle.
A little pit in her stomach. Growing and growing.
She wished it would stop. She wished it would go away. If only it would go away, maybe she'd stop feeling so- maybe she could be calm again, could exhale again, could take a deep breath and be thankful. Thankful for they just saved her life, didn't they, because there was the girl charging her with the hammer- but then this great big noise- and she was maybe safe again. Charlie was safe again, with her bloody nose from when the hammer had awkwardly hit her, and with the little specks of red on her shirt that came out of the other girl's shoulder, and with her gently chattering teeth. She tried to take a breath. To force some air through them. It didn't go as well as she'd planned.
Still growing. Draining something, everything, from the rest of her. Balling it up into this big huge pit of something (of acid? Of something) in her stomach. Heavy. Weighing down. And she still couldn't breathe, couldn't- well, no. That time it worked. Exhale and inhale. So she had that, at least, and maybe she ought to use it. Take advantage of it, since maybe it would make the pit go away. Maybe she'd be fine again, strong again, if she opened her mouth and said a thank you thank you to Dave Matson. Dave with the gun, Dave the cowboy (her cowboy) who shot the other girl down with his big shiny gun and then all of a sudden started looking sad. They all looked sad, well, of course they all looked sad, because to be honest, to be honest, they were all a little shook up right now.
And Kevin stumbled away and the smell of scotch gently followed, and the pit in Charlie's stomach waved bye. The rest of her wanted to say goodbye, but the rest of her was getting slowly drained into the pit so it was understandable that she didn't. She wanted to be mad at him. He was going away, she'd wanted to put her faith in him and now he was gone, but it was understandable. He was a little shook up, maybe. And he was going slowly. And maybe they'd all walk out and find him, tipped over and sleeping, and he'd be back with them. Rested and ready.
Getting a little hard to breathe again. A little choppy, a little too fast. So say something. Say something before it gets too bad. Before the pit gets too heavy. Say anything. Say thank you. Say thank you, David Matson, for saving my life. It'll be quiet, your voice is probably very weak right now, but hopefully he'll hear it anyway, so say it. So say it.
"F- Fuck you." No. Wrong, that was- no, don't say that. You can still stop, Charlie. Act like it was said to the other girl. You can be mad at her, it'd be okay to be mad at her. "Fuck you, David Matson." No, that's- "You fucking idiot! Jesus Christ, you could've fucking killed me! Is that what you do, you fucking trigger-happy psycho? Crazy chick comes at Charlie, what do you do, do you hold her back? No. Do you tackle her? NO. Do you- do fucking any of you do anything at all to help me? NO! You just fucking shoot her and she's right in front of me- you're aiming right at me, you fucking prick, you retarded cowboy, you- fuck you."
Breathing felt easier. That was a plus. And she actually had enough strength to raise her voice. So it wasn't all bad.
"And you, hey, listen, fuck you too." This was David Anderson now. Fuck him too. "You stupid fucking baby, you need a drink? You need a drink now? You need a fucking drink?" He'd grabbed the second bottle by now. She decided she was gonna kick it. She was probably still really weak, pit in her stomach at all, but hopefully she could knock it out of his hand.
It flew against the wall and it shattered. Well. She was feeling better already.
"Nooooo, let me tell you about needing drinks. You'd need a drink if you got hit in the face with a hammer, or if you got shot at by retard cowboy over here, or if you're so fucking boring that alcohol is the only thing even capable of giving you a fucking personality. Oh wait! Ha! Ha fucking ha! I think one of those actually applies to you!"
It felt good. She felt good. She felt strong, strong enough to pick up her duffel bag and just walk out of the shack and never think about it again. So she started to do just that.
"You're all pathetic, self-centered assholes. You, and you, and Kevin- all of you. If you've ever wondered why none of you have any friends, now you know." She looked down at the dead (dying?) girl in the middle of the shack. She must feel left out. So Charlie pointed at her. "You probably sucked too."
She stepped out of the shack and on down the mountain, with a little skip in her step, waving bye cheerfully with her middle finger.
It was gone, the pit. The weight. And the fear, too.
And she'd been right. All she'd needed to do was to say something.
(Charlie DuClare continued in Time is Not On Our Side)
She wished it would stop. She wished it would go away. If only it would go away, maybe she'd stop feeling so- maybe she could be calm again, could exhale again, could take a deep breath and be thankful. Thankful for they just saved her life, didn't they, because there was the girl charging her with the hammer- but then this great big noise- and she was maybe safe again. Charlie was safe again, with her bloody nose from when the hammer had awkwardly hit her, and with the little specks of red on her shirt that came out of the other girl's shoulder, and with her gently chattering teeth. She tried to take a breath. To force some air through them. It didn't go as well as she'd planned.
Still growing. Draining something, everything, from the rest of her. Balling it up into this big huge pit of something (of acid? Of something) in her stomach. Heavy. Weighing down. And she still couldn't breathe, couldn't- well, no. That time it worked. Exhale and inhale. So she had that, at least, and maybe she ought to use it. Take advantage of it, since maybe it would make the pit go away. Maybe she'd be fine again, strong again, if she opened her mouth and said a thank you thank you to Dave Matson. Dave with the gun, Dave the cowboy (her cowboy) who shot the other girl down with his big shiny gun and then all of a sudden started looking sad. They all looked sad, well, of course they all looked sad, because to be honest, to be honest, they were all a little shook up right now.
And Kevin stumbled away and the smell of scotch gently followed, and the pit in Charlie's stomach waved bye. The rest of her wanted to say goodbye, but the rest of her was getting slowly drained into the pit so it was understandable that she didn't. She wanted to be mad at him. He was going away, she'd wanted to put her faith in him and now he was gone, but it was understandable. He was a little shook up, maybe. And he was going slowly. And maybe they'd all walk out and find him, tipped over and sleeping, and he'd be back with them. Rested and ready.
Getting a little hard to breathe again. A little choppy, a little too fast. So say something. Say something before it gets too bad. Before the pit gets too heavy. Say anything. Say thank you. Say thank you, David Matson, for saving my life. It'll be quiet, your voice is probably very weak right now, but hopefully he'll hear it anyway, so say it. So say it.
"F- Fuck you." No. Wrong, that was- no, don't say that. You can still stop, Charlie. Act like it was said to the other girl. You can be mad at her, it'd be okay to be mad at her. "Fuck you, David Matson." No, that's- "You fucking idiot! Jesus Christ, you could've fucking killed me! Is that what you do, you fucking trigger-happy psycho? Crazy chick comes at Charlie, what do you do, do you hold her back? No. Do you tackle her? NO. Do you- do fucking any of you do anything at all to help me? NO! You just fucking shoot her and she's right in front of me- you're aiming right at me, you fucking prick, you retarded cowboy, you- fuck you."
Breathing felt easier. That was a plus. And she actually had enough strength to raise her voice. So it wasn't all bad.
"And you, hey, listen, fuck you too." This was David Anderson now. Fuck him too. "You stupid fucking baby, you need a drink? You need a drink now? You need a fucking drink?" He'd grabbed the second bottle by now. She decided she was gonna kick it. She was probably still really weak, pit in her stomach at all, but hopefully she could knock it out of his hand.
It flew against the wall and it shattered. Well. She was feeling better already.
"Nooooo, let me tell you about needing drinks. You'd need a drink if you got hit in the face with a hammer, or if you got shot at by retard cowboy over here, or if you're so fucking boring that alcohol is the only thing even capable of giving you a fucking personality. Oh wait! Ha! Ha fucking ha! I think one of those actually applies to you!"
It felt good. She felt good. She felt strong, strong enough to pick up her duffel bag and just walk out of the shack and never think about it again. So she started to do just that.
"You're all pathetic, self-centered assholes. You, and you, and Kevin- all of you. If you've ever wondered why none of you have any friends, now you know." She looked down at the dead (dying?) girl in the middle of the shack. She must feel left out. So Charlie pointed at her. "You probably sucked too."
She stepped out of the shack and on down the mountain, with a little skip in her step, waving bye cheerfully with her middle finger.
It was gone, the pit. The weight. And the fear, too.
And she'd been right. All she'd needed to do was to say something.
(Charlie DuClare continued in Time is Not On Our Side)
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Jonny. While this handler hasn't been around in quite a while, should they return and wish to take custody of this account and/or its posts, they are welcome to do so by contacting staff.
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banthesun†
- Posts: 73
- Joined: Sat Sep 01, 2018 5:49 am
Vanessa stopped; had someone hit her in the back? She wondered how she'd even felt it, with all the adrenaline running through her system, before the spreading pain made her realise just what had happened. That boy had shot her. He was supposed to be protecting her. Was this what that bitch had done, or had he been always like this? Stupid girl.
As Vanessa fell she felt her head bump against the other girl's body. She wanted to be repulsed, but was just too tired. Vanessa was unconscious before she'd even reached the ground.
-----
A biting wind blew through the corridor, bringing with it the cold sensation of rain and the oppressive knowledge of the clouds above her; dark thunderclouds ready to close in and crush the school. This wasn't the Bayview she knew, open to the elements as it was, but she was sure it was Bayview none the less. It felt like she was on the roof, far from the ground amidst the waiting clouds. Vanessa was scared, and so she ran. Past locked door and endless drops, past the classrooms she had spent the so much of her life in. The rooms were barred to her, and offered her no sanctuary from the ones who were chasing her, doubtless waiting among the clouds for her to slow down and tire. As she entered the Cafetorium Vanessa ducked round a corner, seeking shelter below a small overhand.
Lights drifted through the clouds, illuminating the school in a dull grey that only made the storm look darker. Her shelter was lit, and the contrast made Vanessa feel safer, as if she was in a place apart from the shadowy sky. When an arm touched her shoulder the tears trapped inside her burst loose.
Vanessa swung her arm wide, bringing the knife in her hand to meet her assailant. She felt a firm tug, and the blade's handle was pulled from her grip. Unarmed, Vanessa had no choice but to run.
How long the chase went on for Vanessa couldn't tell. On and on she ran, until she could run no more. She was weak and tired, and as she bent over to catch her breath she felt something scrape in her back. Reaching up, her fingers brushed against a familiar shape and a sob escaped her throat. As she clutched the handle, she knew that it was the same knife she had driven into her foe. Vanessa fell to the ground and cried.
The fall took forever, fading away into darkness.
-----
Long after everyone had left Vanessa still lay in the shack. Blood caked her shoulder, drying after hours of slow flow. It was clear she wasn't going to be getting up, but all this time her mind was still running somewhere else. Alone on the old wooden floor, the girl slowly faded away, crying in her sleep as she finally realised her fate.
G091 STRUTHERS, VANESSA - ELIMINATED
As Vanessa fell she felt her head bump against the other girl's body. She wanted to be repulsed, but was just too tired. Vanessa was unconscious before she'd even reached the ground.
-----
A biting wind blew through the corridor, bringing with it the cold sensation of rain and the oppressive knowledge of the clouds above her; dark thunderclouds ready to close in and crush the school. This wasn't the Bayview she knew, open to the elements as it was, but she was sure it was Bayview none the less. It felt like she was on the roof, far from the ground amidst the waiting clouds. Vanessa was scared, and so she ran. Past locked door and endless drops, past the classrooms she had spent the so much of her life in. The rooms were barred to her, and offered her no sanctuary from the ones who were chasing her, doubtless waiting among the clouds for her to slow down and tire. As she entered the Cafetorium Vanessa ducked round a corner, seeking shelter below a small overhand.
Lights drifted through the clouds, illuminating the school in a dull grey that only made the storm look darker. Her shelter was lit, and the contrast made Vanessa feel safer, as if she was in a place apart from the shadowy sky. When an arm touched her shoulder the tears trapped inside her burst loose.
Vanessa swung her arm wide, bringing the knife in her hand to meet her assailant. She felt a firm tug, and the blade's handle was pulled from her grip. Unarmed, Vanessa had no choice but to run.
How long the chase went on for Vanessa couldn't tell. On and on she ran, until she could run no more. She was weak and tired, and as she bent over to catch her breath she felt something scrape in her back. Reaching up, her fingers brushed against a familiar shape and a sob escaped her throat. As she clutched the handle, she knew that it was the same knife she had driven into her foe. Vanessa fell to the ground and cried.
The fall took forever, fading away into darkness.
-----
Long after everyone had left Vanessa still lay in the shack. Blood caked her shoulder, drying after hours of slow flow. It was clear she wasn't going to be getting up, but all this time her mind was still running somewhere else. Alone on the old wooden floor, the girl slowly faded away, crying in her sleep as she finally realised her fate.
G091 STRUTHERS, VANESSA - ELIMINATED
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler banthesun. 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: Skipping Fullcircle since...well, I'm getting too close to two weeks for comfort))
IC:
David saw the blood around the girl who was shot. He'd asked for a drink, and it wasn't because he was trying to be social or something...he felt the world spinning as the insults and attacks came on top of that. "Just...just shut up..."
Putting one hand to his forehead as the girls left, David leaned forward and...
BLECH!
Normally, he wasn't squeamish at the sight of blood. Normally, he could've dealt with it. But when one of his classmates got dropped right before his eyes, and then he got subjected to a barrage of insults for trying to cope the only way he could think of? It was all a bit too much.
BLECH!
The second time didn't produce as much material, but it was still uncomfortable for him. Fortunately, that was the end of it, and David looked down at the floor, closing his eyes and trying to sort out not only what he'd just seen, but also what he was feeling and so forth. Catching his breath rather literally, David Anderson sat down not far from where he'd just barfed all over the floor and collected those thoughts. Looking up at the other David, he couldn't think of much to say, so he just sat in silence for a bit.
"You ok, man?"
IC:
David saw the blood around the girl who was shot. He'd asked for a drink, and it wasn't because he was trying to be social or something...he felt the world spinning as the insults and attacks came on top of that. "Just...just shut up..."
Putting one hand to his forehead as the girls left, David leaned forward and...
BLECH!
Normally, he wasn't squeamish at the sight of blood. Normally, he could've dealt with it. But when one of his classmates got dropped right before his eyes, and then he got subjected to a barrage of insults for trying to cope the only way he could think of? It was all a bit too much.
BLECH!
The second time didn't produce as much material, but it was still uncomfortable for him. Fortunately, that was the end of it, and David looked down at the floor, closing his eyes and trying to sort out not only what he'd just seen, but also what he was feeling and so forth. Catching his breath rather literally, David Anderson sat down not far from where he'd just barfed all over the floor and collected those thoughts. Looking up at the other David, he couldn't think of much to say, so he just sat in silence for a bit.
"You ok, man?"
The other David didn't seem to have much to say; shooting someone had clearly left him...David didn't know what the word was, but 'shocked' would qualify. Shocked...or in shock...or something like that.
As much as David Anderson wanted to, you know, tell him to calm down and all that good stuff, he also didn't want to be near someone who'd fired the first shot here, misunderstanding or not. And he really didn't want to be near that person when they still had a loaded gun.
David sighed and shook his head. "Good luck, man. I'll...catch you around?"
Quietly grabbing his stuff and looking over the (literally) bloody mess they'd all managed to make, David Anderson shook his head again.
Just...get me out of here...
((David Anderson continued in Carpe Noctum))
As much as David Anderson wanted to, you know, tell him to calm down and all that good stuff, he also didn't want to be near someone who'd fired the first shot here, misunderstanding or not. And he really didn't want to be near that person when they still had a loaded gun.
David sighed and shook his head. "Good luck, man. I'll...catch you around?"
Quietly grabbing his stuff and looking over the (literally) bloody mess they'd all managed to make, David Anderson shook his head again.
Just...get me out of here...
((David Anderson continued in Carpe Noctum))
David stared down the barrel of the gun at Vanessa. In his head the image of the bullet penetrating her, spattering the shack with blood was completely unshiftable. The sound of it rang in his ears, accompanied by the dull splatter as her life had hit the ground in front of her body.
The others left. Some said things to him, some didn't. He stood stonefaced, staring down at the girl's body as the last vestiges of life left her. As they did, a scant few began to come back to him. The gunshot. The people pouring out of the shack. This surely must have gotten someone's attention.
"Get out of here, hide." he thought. He walked over to the dead girls body. "Lord forgive me." he thought to himself. "God helps those who help themselves." he thought in response. He tore open her bag and looked through it. He took her rations and her first aid kit, storing them in a bag with his own. Then he looked at the body itself. He was shocked to find it not as shocking as he'd initially expected. She was dead now. That was all.
He crouched down next to it. For a second, he wanted to ask her for forgiveness. But he was suddenly very certain of something. God wanted him to live.
He picked up her hammer and left, heading blindly across the island.
(David Matson continues in Where do you go from here?)
The others left. Some said things to him, some didn't. He stood stonefaced, staring down at the girl's body as the last vestiges of life left her. As they did, a scant few began to come back to him. The gunshot. The people pouring out of the shack. This surely must have gotten someone's attention.
"Get out of here, hide." he thought. He walked over to the dead girls body. "Lord forgive me." he thought to himself. "God helps those who help themselves." he thought in response. He tore open her bag and looked through it. He took her rations and her first aid kit, storing them in a bag with his own. Then he looked at the body itself. He was shocked to find it not as shocking as he'd initially expected. She was dead now. That was all.
He crouched down next to it. For a second, he wanted to ask her for forgiveness. But he was suddenly very certain of something. God wanted him to live.
He picked up her hammer and left, heading blindly across the island.
(David Matson continues in Where do you go from here?)
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