((Bridget Connolly and Sarah Xu continued from The Long Road Home))
The walk was long, but managable. After devising their plan and leaving the residential district, Bridget and Sarah headed for the Parish. It was far enough away from the house that the red haired girl felt comfortable people wouldn't stalk them back there seeking retribution.
The two walked in relative silence, not wishing to attract any unwanted attention on the way. It would be a shame if they were attacked before they could even implement their plan. Besides, anything that needed to be said had been said back before they left their base. Sarah, being the bait, was carrying her bag, which had been emptied of it's contents and filled with tin cans, forks, spoons and some linen to give it the illusion of still having something in it. Bridget left her bag behind with the others, not wanting to have anything to weigh her down, though she did neatly wrap a dozen or so long, sharp nails in a cloth. You never know when you need to slow someone down with ersatz caltrops. She had considered taking a hammer, but decided against it. If all went well, no one would have to die.
The two girls arrived at their destination... and were assaulted by the place's stench. The source of the smell became readily apparent to them as the bodies of two of their classmates greeted them at the entrance. Covering her face with her arm as best she could, Bridget walked past the bodies and into the parish, where she was treated to another wonderful sight of more dead bodies and a generally blasted interior. For somewhere that was supposed to be holy ground, there sure was a lot of death.
Sarah was freaking out even before they entered, and hadn't followed her inside. When Bridget came back out again she found her crying by the two bodies. Something they really did't have time to do if they didn't want to get jumped before they were ready.
"You can still do this right?"
"Wh, I... y-yeah. J-just I... It's... W-we shhould b-bury them."
"I know it would be the right thing to do, but the right thing could get us killed out here. We can't afford to right now."
"B-but it's j-Jane, a-and l-Lily"
"We can't afford it right now. Right now we need to stick to our plan and stay safe, okay?"
"But..."
"We don't have time."
"F-fine."
"Good. Trust me, it'll be okay."
Sarah reached her hand out to Bridget and let her pull her up. She walked with her to her position.
They needed to stick with the plan. As much as their location seemed to be cursed or something, it was the best place for the job. Nodding her head, Bridget left Sarah by the entrance gate, and went into the parish. Finding a suitably darkened area close to the entrance, the red headed girl crouched down, trying not to gag on the smell of blood, and waited for Sarah to enter with their prey.
Reduction
Private thread, midday day 4
Reduction
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the former handler Rocky.
Sarah sat against the parish gate, legs pulled up against her body.
She'd known Jane was dead, but seeing their bodies... Fuck, She knew Reika and Cyrille and Raina and Vera were dead and they were all lying lifeless somewhere. But actually seeing her lying dead, absolute proof that the announcements hadn't been a lie, without any of the dignity or life she deserved, was something different.
Why couldn't we bury them, I just wanted...
She hadn't known Lily was dead. That meant she'd died between when they left the residential area and when they got there. She felt a twinge of paranoia, looking back at the chapel, almost getting up to run and make sure Bridget was safe. But Bridget was safe, she'd already been inside, she had to stop worrying, they were going to do this and it'd be fine and oh god they were going to die.
All of her escape plans and ideas and hopes were futile. That was clear to her now. How the hell was she meant to get their location out without Danya knowing? She'd taken the tins of paint to write her message on the walls but they'd see her one way or another and blow their collars. Which meant she had to remove their collars but anything she did would only be enough for one of them, there wouldn't be time enough for everyone. There was no way they could make and cover their necks with tin-can faraday cages or push 300kgs of bricks 30m or so off the lighthouse or find and re-engineer one of the jammers in time to save all their necks. They might have time to save one, or a couple of them, but something was bound to go wrong.
And what if she did manage? What would they hold against her as blackmail? Even if she managed to get their entire group safe there was nothing stopping them from hurting Reiko. Nothing to stop them broadcasting her screams and forcing Sarah to listen to her die. What was the point of trying to escape if she lost the one she loved?
Stop being dumb. She's left you. You lost her already. You failed.
But she wasn't on today's announcements...
What fucking difference does it make?
SHUT UP. SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP. You're not even a thing. You're just me disagreeing with myself so-
"QÙ NǏDE, BÁI CHĪ!"
She buried her face in the cloth of her second pair of cargo pants and let it absorb some of her sobbing. She hadn't been on her own since she'd washed herself at the water's edge in town. She hadn't felt lonely then, it had been lovely. Now... she was sitting metres away from two dead friends of hers, waiting as bait.
She was going to die. If they tried to escape, people would die. If it wasn't them then Danya would kill their friends as compensation. Maybe it'd be fairer if she just killed herself and gave everyone one less obstacle to deal with.
Her mind was quiet for a moment, but not long.
She couldn't die! She wasn't meant to die. Not any time soon anyway. She had so so so much to do. There were diseases to cure and revolutions to win and people to feed. She and Reiko were going to find a house and she was going to go to college, or university or something and Reiko was going to be a champion ice-skater and she was going to help Liam finish school and watch Josh grow up and she was going to become a really good artist and they were going to travel. There were so many places she wanted to go! To Japan and Germany and China again and all of Europe and Russia and Asia and Australia and New Zealand and then to Argentina and all the way back up through South America, spend a year in the Venezuelan missions, maybe another teaching biology in Cuba, and finally back over the border, back to Minnesota, back home. She had it all mapped out. Had all the places marked in her diary. Books of all the languages. She'd wanted to do it for so long.
She needed a thousand years to do all she wanted to do and she'd really, really believed, with science and medicine and equality, fraternity and love she might just make it. Might just cure death and have all the time in the universe to live.
...
She'd always hoped an afterlife existed. But she hadn't really believed in one for a long time. There didn't seem a need when you were going to live forever. She'd wanted it for everyone else, the hundreds of thousands that died each day for no good reason. But she hadn't believed in one since she was little. There was no evidence that anything but cold nothingness awaited all the people that lost their lives.
She sobbed desperately, if she just thought hard enough, just believed that they weren't there, maybe it'd end, maybe they'd be safe and maybe they'd be on the camping trip and maybe she'd just fallen asleep on the bus and had the worst fucking dream ever.
Maybe she wouldn't be dead in the next few days.
It didn't work. Again. For the same reason death was final. This was all there was. There wasn't magic or miracles or god or an afterlife. They were just organic molecular machines. Complex and beautiful and amazing and mysterious machines, but that was all.
What was left of her life was going to be short and brutish. And it terrified her.
She'd known Jane was dead, but seeing their bodies... Fuck, She knew Reika and Cyrille and Raina and Vera were dead and they were all lying lifeless somewhere. But actually seeing her lying dead, absolute proof that the announcements hadn't been a lie, without any of the dignity or life she deserved, was something different.
Why couldn't we bury them, I just wanted...
She hadn't known Lily was dead. That meant she'd died between when they left the residential area and when they got there. She felt a twinge of paranoia, looking back at the chapel, almost getting up to run and make sure Bridget was safe. But Bridget was safe, she'd already been inside, she had to stop worrying, they were going to do this and it'd be fine and oh god they were going to die.
All of her escape plans and ideas and hopes were futile. That was clear to her now. How the hell was she meant to get their location out without Danya knowing? She'd taken the tins of paint to write her message on the walls but they'd see her one way or another and blow their collars. Which meant she had to remove their collars but anything she did would only be enough for one of them, there wouldn't be time enough for everyone. There was no way they could make and cover their necks with tin-can faraday cages or push 300kgs of bricks 30m or so off the lighthouse or find and re-engineer one of the jammers in time to save all their necks. They might have time to save one, or a couple of them, but something was bound to go wrong.
And what if she did manage? What would they hold against her as blackmail? Even if she managed to get their entire group safe there was nothing stopping them from hurting Reiko. Nothing to stop them broadcasting her screams and forcing Sarah to listen to her die. What was the point of trying to escape if she lost the one she loved?
Stop being dumb. She's left you. You lost her already. You failed.
But she wasn't on today's announcements...
What fucking difference does it make?
SHUT UP. SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP. You're not even a thing. You're just me disagreeing with myself so-
"QÙ NǏDE, BÁI CHĪ!"
She buried her face in the cloth of her second pair of cargo pants and let it absorb some of her sobbing. She hadn't been on her own since she'd washed herself at the water's edge in town. She hadn't felt lonely then, it had been lovely. Now... she was sitting metres away from two dead friends of hers, waiting as bait.
She was going to die. If they tried to escape, people would die. If it wasn't them then Danya would kill their friends as compensation. Maybe it'd be fairer if she just killed herself and gave everyone one less obstacle to deal with.
Her mind was quiet for a moment, but not long.
She couldn't die! She wasn't meant to die. Not any time soon anyway. She had so so so much to do. There were diseases to cure and revolutions to win and people to feed. She and Reiko were going to find a house and she was going to go to college, or university or something and Reiko was going to be a champion ice-skater and she was going to help Liam finish school and watch Josh grow up and she was going to become a really good artist and they were going to travel. There were so many places she wanted to go! To Japan and Germany and China again and all of Europe and Russia and Asia and Australia and New Zealand and then to Argentina and all the way back up through South America, spend a year in the Venezuelan missions, maybe another teaching biology in Cuba, and finally back over the border, back to Minnesota, back home. She had it all mapped out. Had all the places marked in her diary. Books of all the languages. She'd wanted to do it for so long.
She needed a thousand years to do all she wanted to do and she'd really, really believed, with science and medicine and equality, fraternity and love she might just make it. Might just cure death and have all the time in the universe to live.
...
She'd always hoped an afterlife existed. But she hadn't really believed in one for a long time. There didn't seem a need when you were going to live forever. She'd wanted it for everyone else, the hundreds of thousands that died each day for no good reason. But she hadn't believed in one since she was little. There was no evidence that anything but cold nothingness awaited all the people that lost their lives.
She sobbed desperately, if she just thought hard enough, just believed that they weren't there, maybe it'd end, maybe they'd be safe and maybe they'd be on the camping trip and maybe she'd just fallen asleep on the bus and had the worst fucking dream ever.
Maybe she wouldn't be dead in the next few days.
It didn't work. Again. For the same reason death was final. This was all there was. There wasn't magic or miracles or god or an afterlife. They were just organic molecular machines. Complex and beautiful and amazing and mysterious machines, but that was all.
What was left of her life was going to be short and brutish. And it terrified her.
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the former handler Gwbiiii.
-
Hallucinojelly†
- Posts: 133
- Joined: Sat Sep 01, 2018 6:17 am
((Trent Savage continued from The Moon is Laughing at You))
Nobody said this was going to be easy...
But nobody said it was going to be this hard.
----
Trent wasn't having the best day.
He couldn't find Violet, no matter how hard he looked, and the only other person that he could even consider close to being his second friend had gone off and died while he wasn't looking.
It all just happened so fast - he couldn't keep up. His memory failed him, cutting out whenever he raised that club above his head and saw, at the last second, something hard crashing down before his eyes.
He hated himself.
Even moreso than usual, Trent couldn't help but feel like he was responsible. If he'd only been stronger, quicker off the draw, less.. shit.
Craig had been the only one to help him throughout all of this, keeping them both safe when he was unconscious and making sure he didn't die when he was the perfect sitting duck for anyone who desired an easy kill.
But where had he been when Craig needed him?
Where was he when Craig was bleeding, and dying, and gasping for his last breath, or, no, where was he when Nik pulled out that gun?
Fucking nowhere, that's where.
Knocked out, scared, weak - whatever.
The cold truth of it was, he'd gone back on his word.
He promised to protect the guy, and all he managed to do was get knocked the fuck out, again.
"Useless" was a word his stepfather used about him quite liberally, and for once in his miserable life, he found himself agreeing wholeheartedly.
If someone was looking for protection, they couldn't do much worse than Trent Savage.
----
Having spent the night aimlessly wandering the island, cold and unable to eat due to a make-believe appetite, it was fair to say that the boy was feeling like - well... shit. How appropriate. Sleeping wasn't really an option either, when every attempt left him feeling even worse than he already felt, and on the off-chance that he found a decent spot to rest he would hear a faraway scream or the echo of a gunshot that caused him to get the fuck outta dodge.
So, in summary, not only did he have two head wounds (the blood of which had now dried up in his hair and down his face), his clothes were dirt-covered and grimy with days' worth of sweat, and the rings around his eyes gave him all the charm of a hard stoner. Wait, no, a dead stoner.
And now, he sat in the light of the midday sun, harsh as it was on his blistered eyes, with his map opened out in front of his lap. For a while now, he'd been planning his next step; it was just a shame that he wasn't exactly a master map-reader, nor navigator, and he couldn't make heads or tail of the map or the compass, so the latter had been thrown aside while he contemplated everything that had gone on so far on his journey. Of course, only one part really stuck out in his mind, and every time he thought back to it, how he could've done something better - how he could've done anything that wasn't getting himself knocked the fuck out.
He winced suddenly at the thought. That gun had hurt like a bitch, that much he knew. A split-second of immense pain before he fell into the familiar black, leaving everyone at the fountain to fend for themselves. What was he thinking? That he could take on that massive son of a bitch with a little swing of his club? How could he have been so fucking stupid? Maybe things wouldn't have escalated if he'd just stayed the fuck where he was? Who was to know for sure? Not him, certainly. There was only so much information he could draw from the darkness.
A crow cawed overhead.
Oh, come on. When are they ever a good sign?
Then something hit his map - the bird dropped what appeared to be a berry onto his map, only it was fully-digested and white and disgusting. Groaning, he pulled out a clump of grass and tried his best to wipe away the offending substance, but stopped when he noticed what it had landed on top of. The area described as "The Parish" was quickly being uncovered, and in that one, crystallizing (albeit gross) moment, he knew where he needed to go.
----
Sometime later, after having trekked all the way from the northern beaches, the boy began to see a building in the distance, hidden away by a throng of trees that concealed a mess of cameras and wildlife in almost equal measure. Not a great comfort, but it was somewhere sheltered to stay for a while, and hopefully, a place where he could reflect on a few things in the eyes of someone he hoped he'd find a reason to believe in. Although, if he did... what then? Would it bring him comfort to think that there was an afterlife, or that there was a being out there, in the ether, that could build the very universe itself?
Okay, now I'm getting way too deep.
Shaking himself out of his fervour, he chose to concentrate on the road ahead, as the parish grew larger and larger until it rose into plain sight. Almost there, he started to relax, if only for a fleeting moment, as the figure of Sarah Xu stepped out into the foreground, forcing Trent to slip behind a nearby tree. That was when the oppressive stench took a hold of him, as the wind thought it would be hilarious to blow the smell of rotting corpses his way. He felt sick. The rancid odour... it overwhelmed him. Looking out, he saw the bodies, strewn across the area like someone had gotten bored and turned all these robots "off". But he knew they weren't robots - the smell alone told him as much - which meant these poor bastards had met one of the many killers on the island; people like Nik.
What was she doing though? Standing there like that, leaving herself open, she was a perfect target for something more bloodthirsty than his useless self. Maybe she was just bad at the game, like he was too. It wasn't as though they'd prepared for this, like they had lessons on how to murder the people you sat next to in Biology or watched dance about in the cafeteria. How were they supposed to behave? Like this? Probably not, he guessed, but that didn't mean he could just let her stay here all by herself. Part of him - the guilt, he gathered - made him step out without him even knowing what was going on, and it took him over to the very spot where she'd now sat down, with his kanabo still in-hand.
He walked cautiously, with nerves tightening the grip around his weapon as it hung low by his side. He couldn't afford to die now, so he had to play it safe. Be assertive, be the man here; make her know he wasn't screwing around.
"H-hey,"
His voice snapped; his throat was drier than he thought.
"Are you okay? You look kinda lost."
Nobody said this was going to be easy...
But nobody said it was going to be this hard.
----
Trent wasn't having the best day.
He couldn't find Violet, no matter how hard he looked, and the only other person that he could even consider close to being his second friend had gone off and died while he wasn't looking.
It all just happened so fast - he couldn't keep up. His memory failed him, cutting out whenever he raised that club above his head and saw, at the last second, something hard crashing down before his eyes.
He hated himself.
Even moreso than usual, Trent couldn't help but feel like he was responsible. If he'd only been stronger, quicker off the draw, less.. shit.
Craig had been the only one to help him throughout all of this, keeping them both safe when he was unconscious and making sure he didn't die when he was the perfect sitting duck for anyone who desired an easy kill.
But where had he been when Craig needed him?
Where was he when Craig was bleeding, and dying, and gasping for his last breath, or, no, where was he when Nik pulled out that gun?
Fucking nowhere, that's where.
Knocked out, scared, weak - whatever.
The cold truth of it was, he'd gone back on his word.
He promised to protect the guy, and all he managed to do was get knocked the fuck out, again.
"Useless" was a word his stepfather used about him quite liberally, and for once in his miserable life, he found himself agreeing wholeheartedly.
If someone was looking for protection, they couldn't do much worse than Trent Savage.
----
Having spent the night aimlessly wandering the island, cold and unable to eat due to a make-believe appetite, it was fair to say that the boy was feeling like - well... shit. How appropriate. Sleeping wasn't really an option either, when every attempt left him feeling even worse than he already felt, and on the off-chance that he found a decent spot to rest he would hear a faraway scream or the echo of a gunshot that caused him to get the fuck outta dodge.
So, in summary, not only did he have two head wounds (the blood of which had now dried up in his hair and down his face), his clothes were dirt-covered and grimy with days' worth of sweat, and the rings around his eyes gave him all the charm of a hard stoner. Wait, no, a dead stoner.
And now, he sat in the light of the midday sun, harsh as it was on his blistered eyes, with his map opened out in front of his lap. For a while now, he'd been planning his next step; it was just a shame that he wasn't exactly a master map-reader, nor navigator, and he couldn't make heads or tail of the map or the compass, so the latter had been thrown aside while he contemplated everything that had gone on so far on his journey. Of course, only one part really stuck out in his mind, and every time he thought back to it, how he could've done something better - how he could've done anything that wasn't getting himself knocked the fuck out.
He winced suddenly at the thought. That gun had hurt like a bitch, that much he knew. A split-second of immense pain before he fell into the familiar black, leaving everyone at the fountain to fend for themselves. What was he thinking? That he could take on that massive son of a bitch with a little swing of his club? How could he have been so fucking stupid? Maybe things wouldn't have escalated if he'd just stayed the fuck where he was? Who was to know for sure? Not him, certainly. There was only so much information he could draw from the darkness.
A crow cawed overhead.
Oh, come on. When are they ever a good sign?
Then something hit his map - the bird dropped what appeared to be a berry onto his map, only it was fully-digested and white and disgusting. Groaning, he pulled out a clump of grass and tried his best to wipe away the offending substance, but stopped when he noticed what it had landed on top of. The area described as "The Parish" was quickly being uncovered, and in that one, crystallizing (albeit gross) moment, he knew where he needed to go.
----
Sometime later, after having trekked all the way from the northern beaches, the boy began to see a building in the distance, hidden away by a throng of trees that concealed a mess of cameras and wildlife in almost equal measure. Not a great comfort, but it was somewhere sheltered to stay for a while, and hopefully, a place where he could reflect on a few things in the eyes of someone he hoped he'd find a reason to believe in. Although, if he did... what then? Would it bring him comfort to think that there was an afterlife, or that there was a being out there, in the ether, that could build the very universe itself?
Okay, now I'm getting way too deep.
Shaking himself out of his fervour, he chose to concentrate on the road ahead, as the parish grew larger and larger until it rose into plain sight. Almost there, he started to relax, if only for a fleeting moment, as the figure of Sarah Xu stepped out into the foreground, forcing Trent to slip behind a nearby tree. That was when the oppressive stench took a hold of him, as the wind thought it would be hilarious to blow the smell of rotting corpses his way. He felt sick. The rancid odour... it overwhelmed him. Looking out, he saw the bodies, strewn across the area like someone had gotten bored and turned all these robots "off". But he knew they weren't robots - the smell alone told him as much - which meant these poor bastards had met one of the many killers on the island; people like Nik.
What was she doing though? Standing there like that, leaving herself open, she was a perfect target for something more bloodthirsty than his useless self. Maybe she was just bad at the game, like he was too. It wasn't as though they'd prepared for this, like they had lessons on how to murder the people you sat next to in Biology or watched dance about in the cafeteria. How were they supposed to behave? Like this? Probably not, he guessed, but that didn't mean he could just let her stay here all by herself. Part of him - the guilt, he gathered - made him step out without him even knowing what was going on, and it took him over to the very spot where she'd now sat down, with his kanabo still in-hand.
He walked cautiously, with nerves tightening the grip around his weapon as it hung low by his side. He couldn't afford to die now, so he had to play it safe. Be assertive, be the man here; make her know he wasn't screwing around.
"H-hey,"
His voice snapped; his throat was drier than he thought.
"Are you okay? You look kinda lost."
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Hallucinojelly. 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.
She was going to die. Reiko was going to die. Reika was dead. Vera was dead. Cyrille and Jane were dead. Dutchy was going to die. Bridget was going to die. Raina was dead. Roland was going to die. Brendan was going to die, wherever he'd run off to. Madelyn was going to die. Erik was going to die. Harun, Rashid and every one of her friends and classmates were going to die.
It wasn't fair. It was wrong. So, so wrong. Her parents were going to outlive her and she was going to die.
"H-hey,"
Her back quickly met the stone wall behind her as Trent spoke and she instictively tried to flee. The shock caused her feet to slip, thumping her backside against the ground as quickly as she'd risen. His friendly words barely registered in her mind, overcome by the blood he was soaked in and the force with which he gripped his weapon. Somewhere below consciousness she berated herself for not looking around, for letting someone sneak up on her, for letting someone corner her and trap her. For being the one who let herself get bashed and butchered to death.
She needed to run, but she knew she wouldn't be able to get up fast enough. Fear and indecision left her burrowing into earth and wall behind her, trying to disappear, timid and frightened and not half as courageous as she'd always thought she could be.
It wasn't fair. It was wrong. So, so wrong. Her parents were going to outlive her and she was going to die.
"H-hey,"
Her back quickly met the stone wall behind her as Trent spoke and she instictively tried to flee. The shock caused her feet to slip, thumping her backside against the ground as quickly as she'd risen. His friendly words barely registered in her mind, overcome by the blood he was soaked in and the force with which he gripped his weapon. Somewhere below consciousness she berated herself for not looking around, for letting someone sneak up on her, for letting someone corner her and trap her. For being the one who let herself get bashed and butchered to death.
She needed to run, but she knew she wouldn't be able to get up fast enough. Fear and indecision left her burrowing into earth and wall behind her, trying to disappear, timid and frightened and not half as courageous as she'd always thought she could be.
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the former handler Gwbiiii.
As Bridget sat there, huddled in the corner of a blood stained, rancid church, one dead body not far from her position, another rather brutally impaled some distance away, the redhead found her mind wandering. She didn't know why at such a crucial time she was thinking of something other than the mission, but it was happening nonetheless.
---
"What are you doing with those?"
Bridget jumped, dropping the nails that she had been holding in her hands. The young redhead had gone into the garage, looking for her uncle who had been visiting from Ireland for the last week or so. William Connolly was a carpenter by trade, and had been building a small gazebo at the request of his brother. Every day he woke up at the crack of dawn to work, not resting until dinner time. Bridget had been sent out to call her Uncle Will for dinner, but when she entered the garage he was nowhere to be seen.
The ten year old Bridget, still at this point in her life wearing a brace on her reconstructed leg, hastily went to pick up the nails she had scattered on the floor. Before she could do that, a strong but gentle hand rested on her shoulder.
"Don't worry about those." Uncle Will said as he picked up the metal spikes. He lay them back on the table, grabbing one in a calloused hand, while picking up the hammer in his other hand. He began to hammer the nail into the wooden board as Bridget watched, having forgotten for the moment that she was supposed to be telling her uncle that dinner was ready.
"Remarkable isn't it?" Uncle William said suddenly, bringing Bridget's mind back to reality.
"Huh?" the girl said in response, not sure what he was saying.
William picked up one of the nails in his hand, handing it to his niece. Bridget took it in her hands, still confused as to what her uncle was saying. "That nail doesn't look like much, right? And yet, something as insignificant as that nail is an integral part to the structure of everything you see around you. Without it, then this gazebo, or this house, or your school wouldn't be able to stand on it's own."
Bridget frowned, still unsure what her uncle was trying to say. "I don't understand." she said simply.
William chuckled to himself and shook his head. "I'm not even sure myself. Just something that came to mind. Maybe what I'm trying to say is that everything is important in it's own way. One day you'll find your purpose in something. It might not be today, it might not be tomorrow. But one day it will happen.
Bridget looked down, realizing only now that she had been holding the packet of nails she had brought with her in her hands. So she was going to have a purpose huh? She wondered what she had left. Her best friend was dead, her only ally was the lover of the one who killed her best friend, she had failed to protect countless people already, and now she was sitting in a church, trying not to puke, waiting for said ally to lure someone in so they could rob them. Some purpose. Then again, maybe her purpose hadn't arrived yet.
She had an idea of what it was though. That could wait until later though. First they needed to finish the mission.
---
"What are you doing with those?"
Bridget jumped, dropping the nails that she had been holding in her hands. The young redhead had gone into the garage, looking for her uncle who had been visiting from Ireland for the last week or so. William Connolly was a carpenter by trade, and had been building a small gazebo at the request of his brother. Every day he woke up at the crack of dawn to work, not resting until dinner time. Bridget had been sent out to call her Uncle Will for dinner, but when she entered the garage he was nowhere to be seen.
The ten year old Bridget, still at this point in her life wearing a brace on her reconstructed leg, hastily went to pick up the nails she had scattered on the floor. Before she could do that, a strong but gentle hand rested on her shoulder.
"Don't worry about those." Uncle Will said as he picked up the metal spikes. He lay them back on the table, grabbing one in a calloused hand, while picking up the hammer in his other hand. He began to hammer the nail into the wooden board as Bridget watched, having forgotten for the moment that she was supposed to be telling her uncle that dinner was ready.
"Remarkable isn't it?" Uncle William said suddenly, bringing Bridget's mind back to reality.
"Huh?" the girl said in response, not sure what he was saying.
William picked up one of the nails in his hand, handing it to his niece. Bridget took it in her hands, still confused as to what her uncle was saying. "That nail doesn't look like much, right? And yet, something as insignificant as that nail is an integral part to the structure of everything you see around you. Without it, then this gazebo, or this house, or your school wouldn't be able to stand on it's own."
Bridget frowned, still unsure what her uncle was trying to say. "I don't understand." she said simply.
William chuckled to himself and shook his head. "I'm not even sure myself. Just something that came to mind. Maybe what I'm trying to say is that everything is important in it's own way. One day you'll find your purpose in something. It might not be today, it might not be tomorrow. But one day it will happen.
Bridget looked down, realizing only now that she had been holding the packet of nails she had brought with her in her hands. So she was going to have a purpose huh? She wondered what she had left. Her best friend was dead, her only ally was the lover of the one who killed her best friend, she had failed to protect countless people already, and now she was sitting in a church, trying not to puke, waiting for said ally to lure someone in so they could rob them. Some purpose. Then again, maybe her purpose hadn't arrived yet.
She had an idea of what it was though. That could wait until later though. First they needed to finish the mission.
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Hallucinojelly†
- Posts: 133
- Joined: Sat Sep 01, 2018 6:17 am
The girl looked scared, like she thought he was going to attack her or steal her shit or something. What was he supposed to do now? He wasn't good with people, especially when it came to dealing with emotional shit like this. No, wait, especially when they were girls... hot girls. This wasn't just some chick from the bowling alley though, this was someone from school; someone like him. Scratching the back of his head, he watched as she shook and flitted about in front of him - it made him feel awful, like he really was going to attack her, but he didn't know it yet. Actually, it made him feel like a monster. How was he to know if he gave off that kind of feeling, or if she was just paranoid? He wouldn't have blamed her if she was; this place had that effect on everyone. It made people crazy, and made people kill. He had to think though, about himself. Would he ever get that crazy?
Looking down at her all scrunched up against the wall like that, he felt his arm lower, with the kanabo becoming less and less of a necessity as it slowly fell to his side. She wasn't a threat to him at all, not in this state. Yet here he was walking on up afraid of her. It sounded so stupid when he played it back in his head.
Scared of her? This little thing? Are you kiddin' me?
Of course he wasn't. With a heavy sigh, he dropped his bag to the ground and got down on his knees to make himself appear less imposing. The last thing he wanted was for her to get spooked and rush him, that was certain. Okay, so he probably could've taken her if she tried anything, but what then? Beat her to a pulp just because she was frightened? No, definitely not. If there was one thing Trent couldn't do, it was fight a girl. He'd never had to before, and he was gonna make absolutely sure he wouldn't have to now. So, he anxiously left the club on the floor, letting it down with great anticipation of her movements. There could've been a chance that this was all a trick, but the thought quickly left his head when he looked into her eyes.
Not crazy eyes... just... scared.
He stretched out his hand - just a little; just to let her know that he wasn't going to hurt her.
"See? I'm nice. I'm not gonna hurt you or nothin'. Look, I, er-"
A quick glance behind him to check if his things were still where he left them.
"I've got nothin' on me. No guns, no knives - you can check if you want, go ahead."
Reaching back, he dragged over his daypack for her to see, popping it down between the two of them before he grabbed the zipper on the mouth. Keeping eye contact, he started to open it up, making sure he didn't do it too fast in case the sound made her jump. After that was over, he looked into the bag just to give everything a quick once-over, then, satisfied, pushed it towards her so she could take a look for herself.
"S-see? No guns, no knives, just like I said."
Pleeeease don't be crazy. I'm beggin' you here, please.
Looking down at her all scrunched up against the wall like that, he felt his arm lower, with the kanabo becoming less and less of a necessity as it slowly fell to his side. She wasn't a threat to him at all, not in this state. Yet here he was walking on up afraid of her. It sounded so stupid when he played it back in his head.
Scared of her? This little thing? Are you kiddin' me?
Of course he wasn't. With a heavy sigh, he dropped his bag to the ground and got down on his knees to make himself appear less imposing. The last thing he wanted was for her to get spooked and rush him, that was certain. Okay, so he probably could've taken her if she tried anything, but what then? Beat her to a pulp just because she was frightened? No, definitely not. If there was one thing Trent couldn't do, it was fight a girl. He'd never had to before, and he was gonna make absolutely sure he wouldn't have to now. So, he anxiously left the club on the floor, letting it down with great anticipation of her movements. There could've been a chance that this was all a trick, but the thought quickly left his head when he looked into her eyes.
Not crazy eyes... just... scared.
He stretched out his hand - just a little; just to let her know that he wasn't going to hurt her.
"See? I'm nice. I'm not gonna hurt you or nothin'. Look, I, er-"
A quick glance behind him to check if his things were still where he left them.
"I've got nothin' on me. No guns, no knives - you can check if you want, go ahead."
Reaching back, he dragged over his daypack for her to see, popping it down between the two of them before he grabbed the zipper on the mouth. Keeping eye contact, he started to open it up, making sure he didn't do it too fast in case the sound made her jump. After that was over, he looked into the bag just to give everything a quick once-over, then, satisfied, pushed it towards her so she could take a look for herself.
"S-see? No guns, no knives, just like I said."
Pleeeease don't be crazy. I'm beggin' you here, please.
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oh god oh god oh god
He was going to kill her. He was going to bash, rape and murder her. When you were about to die your life was meant to flash before your eyes, right? You were meant to get a quick, instantaneous mental recap of everything you'd ever been and everyone you'd ever loved like every neuronal pattern was having one last pulse. Right? You weren't meant to be focussing on your imminent status as a lifeless corpse, lying cold, battered and bruised in the middle of fucking nowhere with your consciousness thrown to oblivion.
Sarah was thinking firmly of the latter.
That is, until the scary looking boy before her dropped to his knees, put his weapon down, and looked into her eyes more with pity and anxiety than hunger or madness. The screams in her head took a double-take, still sort of echoing in her mind as she realised she'd... Uhh... Overreacted.
"See? I'm nice. I'm not gonna hurt you or nothin'. Look, I, er- ... I've got nothin' on me. No guns, no knives - you can check if you want, go ahead."
Her breathing slowed, and her eyes soon returned to looking more tired than terrified. Her heart was still racing, and the adrenalin saturating her vascular system made her limbs shake, and she was still weeping a little, but she felt pretty certain she was safe. Quiet doubts and second guesses aside.
She looked at the bag which had been pushed towards her through teary eyes. She eased her glasses off her face. She didn't really need to see inside it, and instead rubbed the bridge of her nose and her closed eyelids as she tried to regain her composure.
"I'm sorry. It's just..." Just what? Just you're covered in blood and i thought you were going to murder me? "Just... I'm sorry."
Her voice sounded weak, but sincere. "Are you hurt?"
He was going to kill her. He was going to bash, rape and murder her. When you were about to die your life was meant to flash before your eyes, right? You were meant to get a quick, instantaneous mental recap of everything you'd ever been and everyone you'd ever loved like every neuronal pattern was having one last pulse. Right? You weren't meant to be focussing on your imminent status as a lifeless corpse, lying cold, battered and bruised in the middle of fucking nowhere with your consciousness thrown to oblivion.
Sarah was thinking firmly of the latter.
That is, until the scary looking boy before her dropped to his knees, put his weapon down, and looked into her eyes more with pity and anxiety than hunger or madness. The screams in her head took a double-take, still sort of echoing in her mind as she realised she'd... Uhh... Overreacted.
"See? I'm nice. I'm not gonna hurt you or nothin'. Look, I, er- ... I've got nothin' on me. No guns, no knives - you can check if you want, go ahead."
Her breathing slowed, and her eyes soon returned to looking more tired than terrified. Her heart was still racing, and the adrenalin saturating her vascular system made her limbs shake, and she was still weeping a little, but she felt pretty certain she was safe. Quiet doubts and second guesses aside.
She looked at the bag which had been pushed towards her through teary eyes. She eased her glasses off her face. She didn't really need to see inside it, and instead rubbed the bridge of her nose and her closed eyelids as she tried to regain her composure.
"I'm sorry. It's just..." Just what? Just you're covered in blood and i thought you were going to murder me? "Just... I'm sorry."
Her voice sounded weak, but sincere. "Are you hurt?"
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It felt like ages since Bridget had entered that building, though in reality she probably hadn't been there for more than a few minutes. Her attention kept getting drawn to the two dead bodies in her vicinity. She hadn't really known either of them very well, but it didn't change the fact that they were a pair of dead bodies. There were even more of them outside. They had only been here for four days, and yet there were so many of them dead. How long did Bridget have left? Not much. She would probably be dead in a few days, just as dead as Raina. Poor, innocent Raina. Maybe she was the lucky one, not having to deal with this shit anymore.
No, can't be thinking like that. Start thinking negatively, and you'll just get yourself killed. And she couldn't die yet. She still had things to do. Like helping Sarah along. And maybe finding Reiko. As much as she might think otherwise, the bitch was going to answer for her actions. Or something like that. She was sure that Sarah wouldn't appreciate her giving her girlfriend an interrogation.
What was taking so long? Surely someone had to have spotted Sarah by now. Slowly but surely the redhead moved to the doorway, still crouching as she went. She looked outside to where Sarah had been standing. She noticed another figure, looked to be male, was in the area, and Sarah was on the ground. Bridget felt like she should be moving, but Sarah hadn't given the signal yet. She would just have to wait and hope Sarah knew what she was doing.
No, can't be thinking like that. Start thinking negatively, and you'll just get yourself killed. And she couldn't die yet. She still had things to do. Like helping Sarah along. And maybe finding Reiko. As much as she might think otherwise, the bitch was going to answer for her actions. Or something like that. She was sure that Sarah wouldn't appreciate her giving her girlfriend an interrogation.
What was taking so long? Surely someone had to have spotted Sarah by now. Slowly but surely the redhead moved to the doorway, still crouching as she went. She looked outside to where Sarah had been standing. She noticed another figure, looked to be male, was in the area, and Sarah was on the ground. Bridget felt like she should be moving, but Sarah hadn't given the signal yet. She would just have to wait and hope Sarah knew what she was doing.
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Hallucinojelly†
- Posts: 133
- Joined: Sat Sep 01, 2018 6:17 am
The girl didn't look in the bag, she just... calmed herself. Alright, good. Trent could deal with calm. Taking back his things, he plopped down the daypack beside him and slouched back, relaxing around her. She seemed friendly enough, after her initial frenzy, so that was a relief. At least she wasn't playing around. Just a girl, all alone, surrounded by the dead. Okay, that was a little weird, yeah, but hey, there were bound to be bodies by now. Seeing as she didn't have any blood on her, either, he could take that as a comfortable sign that she wasn't responsible for all the death here anyway. Watching her regain composure, he felt kinda bad when she apologised. After all, what did she have to be sorry about? Being scared? Man, that really did make him feel like a jackass. He was a little surprised to hear her then ask about his condition.
Was he hurt? Well, sure, his head throbbed like a bitch, but what did that matter? He was supposed to be helping her, not the other way around.
"Nah, I'm fine. Just a little beaten up, no worries."
He tried to give her a bit of a smile, but with Craig's face lingering in the back of his mind, he just couldn't manage it. She'd have to make do with an awkward half-smile, he thought. Shit, he hadn't even asked what her name was.
"S-so, er, I've seen you round school and stuff, but I don't know your name."
Introduce yourself first?
"Right, shit, yeah, the name's Trent."
Another awkward moment of silence as he gave her another weird smile, not realising how nuts he must've looked, all covered in blood and sporting a wonderful set of dark rings around his eyes. It was a wonder that he'd managed to stay alive this long, being knocked out half the time. Thanks to people like Craig, and... wait, who got him away from the fountain? He didn't even know, wow. Another person he hadn't thanked. He was on a roll.
"Sorry, I'm not great at this."
Was he hurt? Well, sure, his head throbbed like a bitch, but what did that matter? He was supposed to be helping her, not the other way around.
"Nah, I'm fine. Just a little beaten up, no worries."
He tried to give her a bit of a smile, but with Craig's face lingering in the back of his mind, he just couldn't manage it. She'd have to make do with an awkward half-smile, he thought. Shit, he hadn't even asked what her name was.
"S-so, er, I've seen you round school and stuff, but I don't know your name."
Introduce yourself first?
"Right, shit, yeah, the name's Trent."
Another awkward moment of silence as he gave her another weird smile, not realising how nuts he must've looked, all covered in blood and sporting a wonderful set of dark rings around his eyes. It was a wonder that he'd managed to stay alive this long, being knocked out half the time. Thanks to people like Craig, and... wait, who got him away from the fountain? He didn't even know, wow. Another person he hadn't thanked. He was on a roll.
"Sorry, I'm not great at this."
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"Nah, I'm fine. Just a little beaten up, no worries."
really?
Surely it wouldn't hurt to at least clean him up. Well, it might sting a bit, but she didn't see any problem with that when the alternative was puss-filled cysts and inflammation and crap. She'd just get the antiseptic out of her bag and...
Oh yeah, her bag was full of useless junk. She'd just have to use his kit then. Simple.
And soon enough, too soon for her to respond, he was introducing himself. She kind of already knew his name was Trent, she'd made an effort to learn everyone's names when she was still a sophomore. And, well: they did kind of share a biology class.
She sort of forgot to speak after his statement, too lost in her own idle thoughts, and completely blind to his awkward smiling. Taking her glasses off was always fun, or useful, or whatever, it was like she'd put the rest of the world on 'pause'. So much easier to ignore what you couldn't see.
"Sorry, I'm not great at this." She snapped back to attention.
"Huh? Oh, me neither...Umm, my name's Sarah." She couldn't be sure she was actually looking anywhere near his eyes when she responded, but she wasn't about to let eye-contact failure phase her now.
She finished absentmindedly cleaning her glasses and placed them back across her sinuses so she could actually see what she was about to do.
"Here, uhm, let me take a look."
She pushed herself from the sandy ground, wiped what grit had gathered on her hands away with her pantlegs, and began to inspect the cuts on Trent's head.
The wound his blood had been seeping from could barely even be considered a gash. She knew head/face/nose-wounds tended to bleed everywhere no matter how negligible they were, but it was definitely a relief to know she didn't have to stitch anyone up again; as much as being genuinely useful for once made her feel... genuinely useful.
She sifted through his hair making sure she hadn't missed anything as her fingers grew greasier and more keratinous. Her mouth gathered leftwards in bemusement, there seemed to be only one thing causing problems for Trent.
"You really need a bath, huh."
really?
Surely it wouldn't hurt to at least clean him up. Well, it might sting a bit, but she didn't see any problem with that when the alternative was puss-filled cysts and inflammation and crap. She'd just get the antiseptic out of her bag and...
Oh yeah, her bag was full of useless junk. She'd just have to use his kit then. Simple.
And soon enough, too soon for her to respond, he was introducing himself. She kind of already knew his name was Trent, she'd made an effort to learn everyone's names when she was still a sophomore. And, well: they did kind of share a biology class.
She sort of forgot to speak after his statement, too lost in her own idle thoughts, and completely blind to his awkward smiling. Taking her glasses off was always fun, or useful, or whatever, it was like she'd put the rest of the world on 'pause'. So much easier to ignore what you couldn't see.
"Sorry, I'm not great at this." She snapped back to attention.
"Huh? Oh, me neither...Umm, my name's Sarah." She couldn't be sure she was actually looking anywhere near his eyes when she responded, but she wasn't about to let eye-contact failure phase her now.
She finished absentmindedly cleaning her glasses and placed them back across her sinuses so she could actually see what she was about to do.
"Here, uhm, let me take a look."
She pushed herself from the sandy ground, wiped what grit had gathered on her hands away with her pantlegs, and began to inspect the cuts on Trent's head.
The wound his blood had been seeping from could barely even be considered a gash. She knew head/face/nose-wounds tended to bleed everywhere no matter how negligible they were, but it was definitely a relief to know she didn't have to stitch anyone up again; as much as being genuinely useful for once made her feel... genuinely useful.
She sifted through his hair making sure she hadn't missed anything as her fingers grew greasier and more keratinous. Her mouth gathered leftwards in bemusement, there seemed to be only one thing causing problems for Trent.
"You really need a bath, huh."
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Hallucinojelly†
- Posts: 133
- Joined: Sat Sep 01, 2018 6:17 am
Her fingers felt good on his scalp, running through his hair and massaging his skin as she inspected his cuts. He was relieved that she was so gentle; anyone else would've probably just left him as he was, but this girl - Sarah, she said her name was - was nice. She didn't turn her nose up at him, and by checking him over that surely meant she could trust him. That was good. That made things a whole lot easier.
"Ah- ow, ow-"
A flash of pain hit him as she accidentally brushed his wound, but he sucked it up. The last thing he wanted was for her to think he was a wimp or something - that wouldn't be cool. Instead, he ignored the stinging and gave a short laugh to reassure her. It wasn't like it hurt immensely, or that he was in excruciating pain, but still, guys aren't meant to flinch and stuff, they're meant to keep their cool and look totally badass like nothing even fazes them.
So he closed his eyes and let her get to work, having to stop himself from purring as she worked her way around the rest of his head with those lovely hands she owned. True enough, he really did need a bath, but hey, if she was willing to bring it up then maybe she'd wanna join him? He had a sneaking suspicion that she wasn't enjoying the lack of showers either, and besides, once she patched him up he'd have to owe her, right? She scratches his back, he washes hers. Nice.
Once she was done giving him the once over, he opened up his eyes again and looked at her for a while as she turned to check for something in her bag. Smiling, still in his own little world, he glanced over her body, and wondered why he'd never noticed her before. It was a real shame, he thought. If she was this kind back at school they could've really hit it off. Maybe then he wouldn't have been forced to keep hanging around with people like Leila. Maybe then he could've made some proper friends instead.
"Thanks, by the way."
His eyes fell away from her as she turned back around.
"For not killin' me, I mean. I know I prob'ly look like a mess, but, er, I appreciate it."
"Ah- ow, ow-"
A flash of pain hit him as she accidentally brushed his wound, but he sucked it up. The last thing he wanted was for her to think he was a wimp or something - that wouldn't be cool. Instead, he ignored the stinging and gave a short laugh to reassure her. It wasn't like it hurt immensely, or that he was in excruciating pain, but still, guys aren't meant to flinch and stuff, they're meant to keep their cool and look totally badass like nothing even fazes them.
So he closed his eyes and let her get to work, having to stop himself from purring as she worked her way around the rest of his head with those lovely hands she owned. True enough, he really did need a bath, but hey, if she was willing to bring it up then maybe she'd wanna join him? He had a sneaking suspicion that she wasn't enjoying the lack of showers either, and besides, once she patched him up he'd have to owe her, right? She scratches his back, he washes hers. Nice.
Once she was done giving him the once over, he opened up his eyes again and looked at her for a while as she turned to check for something in her bag. Smiling, still in his own little world, he glanced over her body, and wondered why he'd never noticed her before. It was a real shame, he thought. If she was this kind back at school they could've really hit it off. Maybe then he wouldn't have been forced to keep hanging around with people like Leila. Maybe then he could've made some proper friends instead.
"Thanks, by the way."
His eyes fell away from her as she turned back around.
"For not killin' me, I mean. I know I prob'ly look like a mess, but, er, I appreciate it."
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She crouched down and opened her bag to get the medkit out. Instead finding the tin cans and spoons and things she'd carried all the way from town.
Right, full of junk. In her flustration she'd totally forgotten that fact over the past 2 minutes. Behind her she could hear her new friend thanking her. She faltered slightly as he continued, of course she wasn't going to kill him, it was the last thing on her mind and it was like she'd even been in a position to do so... Even though others were. The thought nudged her mind off-balance a bit.
"Uhhh it's... it's fine, can I use your kit? My bag's full of useless crap."
He nodded, proffering his medical bag. She opened it, almost deftly, removed a couple of the ample antiseptic wipes from their pouch and carefully laid the kit back onto the open bag. One went into a jacket pocket as she pushed her sleeves further up her arms. The other soon followed as she remembered something.
"Oh, umm"
She jogged the five or six steps it took to go to her bag and pulled out a bottle. At least she'd brought water. She made the same silly half run for the couple of metres back.
"Okay so this might sting." Her right hand gently directed his head earthwards as she poured it on his cuts, flushing away the dirt and newly wet hair. She emptied the rest of the bottle onto each of her hands, replaced the screwtop and chucked it back to her bag, no longer watching as it made a perfect landing on top.
She pulled a wipe from her breastpocket and struggled with the plastic wrapping. Tearing it, she shoved the plastic wrapping into a pocket and withdrew a plastic bottle of tea-tree oil, upturning it onto the antiseptic wipe to add some more moisture.
"And this definitely will." She dabbed the antiseptic on the largest cut, wiping away from its center and out, taking any left over grime with it. Soon her strokes had covered all of it and she was opening the second wipe and repeating the process. Same wounds again. Couldn't be too careful avoiding infection.
Right, full of junk. In her flustration she'd totally forgotten that fact over the past 2 minutes. Behind her she could hear her new friend thanking her. She faltered slightly as he continued, of course she wasn't going to kill him, it was the last thing on her mind and it was like she'd even been in a position to do so... Even though others were. The thought nudged her mind off-balance a bit.
"Uhhh it's... it's fine, can I use your kit? My bag's full of useless crap."
He nodded, proffering his medical bag. She opened it, almost deftly, removed a couple of the ample antiseptic wipes from their pouch and carefully laid the kit back onto the open bag. One went into a jacket pocket as she pushed her sleeves further up her arms. The other soon followed as she remembered something.
"Oh, umm"
She jogged the five or six steps it took to go to her bag and pulled out a bottle. At least she'd brought water. She made the same silly half run for the couple of metres back.
"Okay so this might sting." Her right hand gently directed his head earthwards as she poured it on his cuts, flushing away the dirt and newly wet hair. She emptied the rest of the bottle onto each of her hands, replaced the screwtop and chucked it back to her bag, no longer watching as it made a perfect landing on top.
She pulled a wipe from her breastpocket and struggled with the plastic wrapping. Tearing it, she shoved the plastic wrapping into a pocket and withdrew a plastic bottle of tea-tree oil, upturning it onto the antiseptic wipe to add some more moisture.
"And this definitely will." She dabbed the antiseptic on the largest cut, wiping away from its center and out, taking any left over grime with it. Soon her strokes had covered all of it and she was opening the second wipe and repeating the process. Same wounds again. Couldn't be too careful avoiding infection.
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More time passed, and still Bridget found herself waiting. What was taking so long? From her vantage point in the church, the red haired girl could see that Sarah had begun to treat the boy's wounds. Bridget sighed. On the one hand she was upset that their little plan had gone to hell. On the other, she more or less expected this from Sarah. She was too gentle to actually go through with a plan that might end up someone someone innocent injured.
Well, no sense in sticking around in here then.
Bridget stood from her squatting position, stretching her muscles. They had gotten a little tense from all the crouching. Once this was finished, the Irish girl walked out into the open and towards Sarah and the boy. His face was familiar, but she couldn't place it at the moment. Judging from the look on his face, he had suffered some pretty nasty blows to the head. Bridget almost felt sorry that she had planned on hurting him more.
Almost.
Well, no sense in sticking around in here then.
Bridget stood from her squatting position, stretching her muscles. They had gotten a little tense from all the crouching. Once this was finished, the Irish girl walked out into the open and towards Sarah and the boy. His face was familiar, but she couldn't place it at the moment. Judging from the look on his face, he had suffered some pretty nasty blows to the head. Bridget almost felt sorry that she had planned on hurting him more.
Almost.
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Hallucinojelly†
- Posts: 133
- Joined: Sat Sep 01, 2018 6:17 am
Okay, that stung. That stung a lot. No, wait, more than a lot - a whole frickin' lot.
He had to stop himself from yelping as the antiseptic washed itself into his skin; the cuts setting alight as the alcohol burned away the infectious bacteria and other such nasties. He did flinch though, and once or twice he almost knocked the bottle away from her hands with a buck of his head, but the whole process ended much quicker than he thought it would, and soon enough she was done with the cleansing and was going on to wipe away the excess muck and blood.
Such gentle hands. If this were any other time and place, he'd be in heaven right about now. Even the cuts and bruises were worth it, if it meant being kept safe and warm in this angel's arms. Heh, but then, he had to wonder. Did he really have the heart to screw an angel? That'd be the ultimate defiling, wouldn't it?
He felt her fingers run through one of the knots in his hair; felt her undo the tangles as lightly as she could.
Nah, not to her.
She'd make a sweet-ass girlfriend, but... not now. Not while we're here, it's too weird.
A smile though.
If they ever made it back home, and they managed to find each other again... then yeah. Maybe they'd have a shot.
It didn't matter if she didn't feel the same way - that hadn't even crossed his mind 'til then - he'd make sure she knew how much he appreciated her help. If it were anybody else, he would've been dead by now.
But then, as per the course, someone interrupted their moment. Another girl, one he recognized from school, emerged from the doorway of the church. She didn't look dangerous, but there was definitely something fishy about her. She didn't look at all surprised to see Sarah, for one, and her eyes held knowledge in them, as though she'd predicted the future.
By this point, Sarah had finished what she doing, likely because her friend had just shown up in the middle of a rather awkward set of circumstances involving Trent's scalp and Sarah's fingers. Still, the two of them said nothing to one another, and the silence began to suffocate the boy as he sat between the two girls with a look that only the most skittish of deer would make in front of a speeding truck.
"H-hey, I'm Trent. Trent Savage. We er, we went to school together, but I reckon you don't remember me."
He had to stop himself from yelping as the antiseptic washed itself into his skin; the cuts setting alight as the alcohol burned away the infectious bacteria and other such nasties. He did flinch though, and once or twice he almost knocked the bottle away from her hands with a buck of his head, but the whole process ended much quicker than he thought it would, and soon enough she was done with the cleansing and was going on to wipe away the excess muck and blood.
Such gentle hands. If this were any other time and place, he'd be in heaven right about now. Even the cuts and bruises were worth it, if it meant being kept safe and warm in this angel's arms. Heh, but then, he had to wonder. Did he really have the heart to screw an angel? That'd be the ultimate defiling, wouldn't it?
He felt her fingers run through one of the knots in his hair; felt her undo the tangles as lightly as she could.
Nah, not to her.
She'd make a sweet-ass girlfriend, but... not now. Not while we're here, it's too weird.
A smile though.
If they ever made it back home, and they managed to find each other again... then yeah. Maybe they'd have a shot.
It didn't matter if she didn't feel the same way - that hadn't even crossed his mind 'til then - he'd make sure she knew how much he appreciated her help. If it were anybody else, he would've been dead by now.
But then, as per the course, someone interrupted their moment. Another girl, one he recognized from school, emerged from the doorway of the church. She didn't look dangerous, but there was definitely something fishy about her. She didn't look at all surprised to see Sarah, for one, and her eyes held knowledge in them, as though she'd predicted the future.
By this point, Sarah had finished what she doing, likely because her friend had just shown up in the middle of a rather awkward set of circumstances involving Trent's scalp and Sarah's fingers. Still, the two of them said nothing to one another, and the silence began to suffocate the boy as he sat between the two girls with a look that only the most skittish of deer would make in front of a speeding truck.
"H-hey, I'm Trent. Trent Savage. We er, we went to school together, but I reckon you don't remember me."
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Hallucinojelly. 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.
She'd cleaned the wound, rinsed and teased the hair around it out of the way, which left... patching it? There didn't seem much point with the hair around it and Trent's minimal injury.
Sarah pocketed the tea-tree bottle again and looked down at the spent wipes she held in her hands. Instinct was telling her to wrap them back up and put them in an unpopular pocket until they could find a bin, but she'd stopped herself halfway since maybe worrying about litter at a time like this was idiotic?
But she'd never littered in her life...
...dilemma.
She decided not to risk the guilt she'd feel and re-enveloped the wipes, shoving them in her rear pocket. As Trent spoke she looked up to see Bridget hiding in the peripheral lack-of-vision that lurked outside her glasses.
... And immediately remembered the whole point of trekking all the way up here with that stupid sack of assorted crap.
She opened and closed her mouth, standing speechless as she tried to think of an appropriately worded apology for the fact she'd messed up their plan.
Again.
Sarah pocketed the tea-tree bottle again and looked down at the spent wipes she held in her hands. Instinct was telling her to wrap them back up and put them in an unpopular pocket until they could find a bin, but she'd stopped herself halfway since maybe worrying about litter at a time like this was idiotic?
But she'd never littered in her life...
...dilemma.
She decided not to risk the guilt she'd feel and re-enveloped the wipes, shoving them in her rear pocket. As Trent spoke she looked up to see Bridget hiding in the peripheral lack-of-vision that lurked outside her glasses.
... And immediately remembered the whole point of trekking all the way up here with that stupid sack of assorted crap.
She opened and closed her mouth, standing speechless as she tried to think of an appropriately worded apology for the fact she'd messed up their plan.
Again.
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the former handler Gwbiiii.