"Yeah," said Georgia Lee, "yeah, me too."
She gave a wan smile, then turned, her back to Fiyori.
Georgia Lee could feel the importance of this moment, as keenly as she might have felt sun on her skin, or the rush of wind through a car window. She supposed this was what might be called a crossroads, though to her it felt more like a tightrope, with one wrong step all it would take to plunge her down, down into a yawning chasm of consequence. The momentousness of the stakes were dizzying, and for a moment Georgia Lee almost felt physically unbalanced.
She collected herself.
It was clear, or seemed so at least, that the hand of friendship was at offer here. What was clear was whether it was genuine, and since that could not be determined, how she should respond.
Fondness for someone, in Georgia Lee's book, in no way implied any level of trust or loyalty. After all, she was endlessly loyal to her sisters, yet Georgia Lee's heart didn't hold a fragment of fondness for any of them. No, even if Fiyori was telling the truth (and indeed, that was something Georgia Lee was not finding any easier to determine as their time together continued) that didn't make the girl even slightly less dangerous, even a little less of a threat.
There were two possibilities here, and neither was particularly attractive. If Fiyori was being sincere, the goodwill she was feeling now only meant that she'd be more volatile if she discovered the bad faith Georgia Lee had been acting in. If she wasn't being sincere, on the other hand, this was simple emotional manipulation, and the fact that Fiyori saw the need for that showed exactly how much of a peril she remained for Georgia Lee.
No, she concluded, this didn't change anything. Regardless of how Fiyori might have felt, or what was going on behind those giant, insect eyes, Georgia Lee was no safer. Nothing had changed. She still needed to prove her value to Fiyori, and she was still confident that, fond or not, the second she ceased to have value Fiyori would turn on her like the mantis she was. However much affection the other girl might or might not have for her, Georgia Lee doubted it was enough to override her desire to survive.
She would stay her course, uncorrected. Her attitude to Fiyori would remain one of careful observation and distrust, her guard would remain up, and her secret weapon, the other girl's glasses, would remain where they were, taped to the underside of a table. It was already too late to turn back.
"And if it ain't broke, don't fix it, right?" she affected an accent stronger than her own, a poor imitation of her mother. It was a favourite saying of hers, and one that Georgia Lee detested; an excuse for never trying to improve anything or even to maintain it, a mantra that dictated you would only ever take action to help yourself when things became so bad as to be fundamentally non-functional. The words were like tree sap in her mouth.
"We've kept each alive so far, haven't we? I don't see any reason to change that up..." Georgia Lee's words were interrupted by a banging from the door. Her thoughts stopped too, her breath with them and had she not known better she'd've sworn that her pulse stopped as well. Georga Lee stood, stock still, frozen like a rabbit in front of a truck as the door clattered against the barricade.
It was a single push with what seemed like little force behind it, and the barricade held. She stepped backwards, moving with a pained, glacial slowness, and whispered in Fiyori's ear, her voice so quiet as to be practically silent.
"Keep quiet. Don't move. They'll think it's locked and they'll keep walking."
Get Me Away From Here, I'm Dying
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And it was like that that she answered. And Fiyori could feel something. A tingling sensation in her nose. Something she knew had no physical origin. She would have said that she couldn't put her finger onto it. But then she put her finger on the tip of her nose. And the saying seemed nonsensical.
It was, essentially however, still true. She expected some sort of answer, because she had to. And she wasn't sure if she was to be happy or sad or even mad about it. A mix of all three, Fiyori guessed, scattered across the few moments she would still experience.
Fiyori was about to say something, but then a loud thud interrupted Georgia Lee. Her ally paced backwards, and Fiyori herself felt frozen for that moment. Listening, waiting for another, and louder thud. God forbid, perhaps to see who was behind the sound.
Georgia Lee moved to whisper in Fiyori's ear. She could not make out all of what she said, but she got the gist. Stay quiet, and wait. Wait till they, he or she or whatever, go away. Leave them alone. Fiyori felt that was idiotic. But then, she also felt kinda, in a very strange way, vindicated.
To simply wait, perhaps a good idea but not the best. She would need to cover. They would need to cover. Fiyori squatted down, and once closer to the ground, she gave a quick glance to GLD. If the barricade broke down, then it would be best if they didn't end up in the intruder's line of sight.
It was, essentially however, still true. She expected some sort of answer, because she had to. And she wasn't sure if she was to be happy or sad or even mad about it. A mix of all three, Fiyori guessed, scattered across the few moments she would still experience.
Fiyori was about to say something, but then a loud thud interrupted Georgia Lee. Her ally paced backwards, and Fiyori herself felt frozen for that moment. Listening, waiting for another, and louder thud. God forbid, perhaps to see who was behind the sound.
Georgia Lee moved to whisper in Fiyori's ear. She could not make out all of what she said, but she got the gist. Stay quiet, and wait. Wait till they, he or she or whatever, go away. Leave them alone. Fiyori felt that was idiotic. But then, she also felt kinda, in a very strange way, vindicated.
To simply wait, perhaps a good idea but not the best. She would need to cover. They would need to cover. Fiyori squatted down, and once closer to the ground, she gave a quick glance to GLD. If the barricade broke down, then it would be best if they didn't end up in the intruder's line of sight.
Gervais Frans Lambotte 
Blue Jeans and Bloody Tears Martini-Henry Rifle MkIV Pattern
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Blue Jeans and Bloody Tears Martini-Henry Rifle MkIV Pattern||Selection|Clicks|Lonely|
Georgia Lee sank to the ground, her body mirroring Fiyori's even as her face reflected a fear that was very much her own.
She met the other girl's eyes under the table, through a forest of chair legs, but whatever help or reassurance Georgia Lee might have hoped to find in those deep blue pools was nowhere to be seen. Clearly, if the girls were to make a plan here it would be Georgia Lee's own.
With fingers that felt thick and clumsy, she lifted her head over the scratched and pitted surface of the table and fixed her gaze on the door that had so disturbed them. It was stilled now, without a single sound coming from behind it, but it seemed to radiate a menace that was palpable and cloying. It shouldn't be so silent, should it? In the room it was so quiet that Georgia Lee's short, stolen breaths sounded deafening in her ears, yet he hadn't heard a single footstep in the corridor outside.
They should've just tried the door and kept moving, but they hadn't. Whoever it was who'd tried to get inside was still out there, was perhaps still trying. Someone was there and they weren't going away and they were trying to be quiet, and the only reason you try to be quiet is if you don't want someone to hear you and if they were doing that it was because they thought someone was in here and if they thought someone was in here and they wanted to get in and they didn't want the people inside to hear them then it seemed like a reasonable conclusion that maybe they didn't have the best intentions and if their intentions weren't the best then it was very, very, very much in Georgia Lee and Fiyori's interest that this person not find them.
She let her panic-widened eyes drift sideways and swallowed a scream as they came to rest on two shapeless, olive drab forms sprawled across the tables.
"The bags!" she mouthed at Fiyori, who stared back at her with blank incomprehension. Georgia Lee jabbed a finger in the direction.
"We need. To get. The bags." she shouted silently, as her heart beat a tattoo inside of her ear.
Fiyori stayed motionless, either unable or unwilling to respond. With a headshake of disgust and disappointment Georgia Lee pulled herself back to her feet and made her way, torturously slow, to where the bags lay on the table. Every footfall was a gunshot, every creak of a floorboard a brassband and she winced with every step. She could feel, literally feel herself sweat, feel the pores open like gaping mouths and soak her clothes under her arms, down her back and behind her knees as she pictured over and over the door bursting open and a hail of bullets ripping through her abdomen, pictured skin and muscle and bone and organ ripped to shreds, pictured her eyes flickering closed as Fiyori and her parents and the Columbia recruiters all looked on and said "what a shame, what a waste".
That she kept herself from trembling as she stuffed their strewn possessions bag into where they came from was perhaps the greatest triumph or Georgia Lee's will in her life. She left the bags unzipped, not wanting to add further unnecessary noise, and pulled a strap over each shoulder, tucking the bags under her arms to stop their contents from moving about. With her head, she gestured towards the kitchen.
Would they be safe there? They'd be safer, and right now that was all she could aspire to.
She met the other girl's eyes under the table, through a forest of chair legs, but whatever help or reassurance Georgia Lee might have hoped to find in those deep blue pools was nowhere to be seen. Clearly, if the girls were to make a plan here it would be Georgia Lee's own.
With fingers that felt thick and clumsy, she lifted her head over the scratched and pitted surface of the table and fixed her gaze on the door that had so disturbed them. It was stilled now, without a single sound coming from behind it, but it seemed to radiate a menace that was palpable and cloying. It shouldn't be so silent, should it? In the room it was so quiet that Georgia Lee's short, stolen breaths sounded deafening in her ears, yet he hadn't heard a single footstep in the corridor outside.
They should've just tried the door and kept moving, but they hadn't. Whoever it was who'd tried to get inside was still out there, was perhaps still trying. Someone was there and they weren't going away and they were trying to be quiet, and the only reason you try to be quiet is if you don't want someone to hear you and if they were doing that it was because they thought someone was in here and if they thought someone was in here and they wanted to get in and they didn't want the people inside to hear them then it seemed like a reasonable conclusion that maybe they didn't have the best intentions and if their intentions weren't the best then it was very, very, very much in Georgia Lee and Fiyori's interest that this person not find them.
She let her panic-widened eyes drift sideways and swallowed a scream as they came to rest on two shapeless, olive drab forms sprawled across the tables.
"The bags!" she mouthed at Fiyori, who stared back at her with blank incomprehension. Georgia Lee jabbed a finger in the direction.
"We need. To get. The bags." she shouted silently, as her heart beat a tattoo inside of her ear.
Fiyori stayed motionless, either unable or unwilling to respond. With a headshake of disgust and disappointment Georgia Lee pulled herself back to her feet and made her way, torturously slow, to where the bags lay on the table. Every footfall was a gunshot, every creak of a floorboard a brassband and she winced with every step. She could feel, literally feel herself sweat, feel the pores open like gaping mouths and soak her clothes under her arms, down her back and behind her knees as she pictured over and over the door bursting open and a hail of bullets ripping through her abdomen, pictured skin and muscle and bone and organ ripped to shreds, pictured her eyes flickering closed as Fiyori and her parents and the Columbia recruiters all looked on and said "what a shame, what a waste".
That she kept herself from trembling as she stuffed their strewn possessions bag into where they came from was perhaps the greatest triumph or Georgia Lee's will in her life. She left the bags unzipped, not wanting to add further unnecessary noise, and pulled a strap over each shoulder, tucking the bags under her arms to stop their contents from moving about. With her head, she gestured towards the kitchen.
Would they be safe there? They'd be safer, and right now that was all she could aspire to.
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What was Georgia Lee thinking? She had mouthed something at Fiyori, though she could not understand it at first. She got it when she pointed at the bags, asking - ordering really - Fiyori to fetch them.
Fiyori was, however, somewhat reluctant. She raised an eyebrow. Noticed it, but didn't bother to hide her bemusement and her bewilderment. No, that was just no the best idea. She could see it happening. Hear it happened, rather. She would crouch over, making the floorboards crack, hitting her head on the edges of the tables. Maybe she'd trip over the junk on the floor and fall over. Would make way too much noise. Practically a guarantee for whoever was outside that there was someone inside.
And that they saw fit to not answer, after all.
Georgia Lee wasn't deterred by Fiyori's unwillingness, because she was Georgia Lee. Fiyori had to admit, she was impressed when GLD managed to skip over to the bags, and managed to fetch all her stuff without any of it falling down. Well, she'd better not think of that too much, that would just be tempting fate.
She gestured for them to move to the kitchen - again, because she was Georgia Lee and Georgia Lee would not be halted by Fiyori's concerns, unvoiced or not.
Still, Fiyori agreed. Had to, she felt. She was unsure she would manage to move with as much grace as GLD did, but now she had to try.
She crouched. She crawled. And, much to her surprise, and if entirely in her own opinion. She managed to sneak better than Georgia Lee. More silent. Swifter, even.
That is, until she stopped. Her eyes wandered across their horizon, and stuck tightly under a table. Something that necessitated more attention. More than the intruder, more than her bags, and more than Georgia Lee.
Fiyori looked over to her. She waited. She mused. And then she went for her glasses.
Fiyori was, however, somewhat reluctant. She raised an eyebrow. Noticed it, but didn't bother to hide her bemusement and her bewilderment. No, that was just no the best idea. She could see it happening. Hear it happened, rather. She would crouch over, making the floorboards crack, hitting her head on the edges of the tables. Maybe she'd trip over the junk on the floor and fall over. Would make way too much noise. Practically a guarantee for whoever was outside that there was someone inside.
And that they saw fit to not answer, after all.
Georgia Lee wasn't deterred by Fiyori's unwillingness, because she was Georgia Lee. Fiyori had to admit, she was impressed when GLD managed to skip over to the bags, and managed to fetch all her stuff without any of it falling down. Well, she'd better not think of that too much, that would just be tempting fate.
She gestured for them to move to the kitchen - again, because she was Georgia Lee and Georgia Lee would not be halted by Fiyori's concerns, unvoiced or not.
Still, Fiyori agreed. Had to, she felt. She was unsure she would manage to move with as much grace as GLD did, but now she had to try.
She crouched. She crawled. And, much to her surprise, and if entirely in her own opinion. She managed to sneak better than Georgia Lee. More silent. Swifter, even.
That is, until she stopped. Her eyes wandered across their horizon, and stuck tightly under a table. Something that necessitated more attention. More than the intruder, more than her bags, and more than Georgia Lee.
Fiyori looked over to her. She waited. She mused. And then she went for her glasses.
Gervais Frans Lambotte Blue Jeans and Bloody Tears Martini-Henry Rifle MkIV Pattern
||Selection|Clicks|Lonely|
Blue Jeans and Bloody Tears Martini-Henry Rifle MkIV Pattern||Selection|Clicks|Lonely|
Were she from somewhere else, Georgia Lee wondered, would this be harder? In many ways Kingman had been an island, and as strange and alien as this new place was there was a certain familiarity to it, too. As the island rose out of the sea, so had Kingman risen out of the ocean of the Mojave, an endless, primary-coloured expanse of waves and sky and serpents.
She'd seen a snake in the flesh only once, when her father had pulled up by the side of the road to point one out. Georgia Lee recalled being confused and scared and entranced, all at once. It's body had moved about in ways she couldn't comprehend, seeming to bear no relation to its actual progress across the ground, but its head had stared fixedly forward and in its unwavering gaze she'd seen a singularity of intent so utter and all-encompassing that it had left her in awe. Georgia Lee, for many years, had defined herself by her focus and ambition, yet she never felt she'd wanted anything as much as that snake had seemed to want whatever it was it had been slithering towards.
That same look of reptilian purpose that Georgia Lee had fancied she saw in the rattlesnake's eyes she saw again now, as Fiyori crawled inexorably toward where her glasses had been hidden. Had been, for it seems they were hidden no longer.
Georgia Lee marshalled her thoughts, stringing together justifications and excuses and pleas, even as her right hand, concealed by the doorway of the kitchen which she now peered around, tightened about the handle of Fiyori's shovel.
She'd seen a snake in the flesh only once, when her father had pulled up by the side of the road to point one out. Georgia Lee recalled being confused and scared and entranced, all at once. It's body had moved about in ways she couldn't comprehend, seeming to bear no relation to its actual progress across the ground, but its head had stared fixedly forward and in its unwavering gaze she'd seen a singularity of intent so utter and all-encompassing that it had left her in awe. Georgia Lee, for many years, had defined herself by her focus and ambition, yet she never felt she'd wanted anything as much as that snake had seemed to want whatever it was it had been slithering towards.
That same look of reptilian purpose that Georgia Lee had fancied she saw in the rattlesnake's eyes she saw again now, as Fiyori crawled inexorably toward where her glasses had been hidden. Had been, for it seems they were hidden no longer.
Georgia Lee marshalled her thoughts, stringing together justifications and excuses and pleas, even as her right hand, concealed by the doorway of the kitchen which she now peered around, tightened about the handle of Fiyori's shovel.
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler frogue. 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.
So here they were. All along, right below her nose. Fiyori had spotted her glasses. Her eyes locked on them quickly. Her mind, however, needed a few more seconds to process this revelation. When she crawled towards them, her first thoughts were doubts. That she was mistaken. That the thing she aimed for was something else. Something different. And the voice that told her so grew louder and louder the nearer she got. But, she knew. She knew when she reached for them, when she could feel the glasses and the frame and she could see the bright blue standing out even in the dark. She saw and noticed the tape, she yanked it off, and the glasses fell into her hand.
Even then, there was something in her, that told her that she was wrong. That this wasn't what she wanted.
Fiyori halted. A feeling not unlike bile in her mouth filled her. She swallowed, she coughed. And then, with a few more moments of hesitations passing, she put on her glasses.
It was clarity. Not one she could see with her eyes, as they were still looking at the shadow cast by the table. No, it was a clarity of the mind. Because Fiyori Senay always knew. And, if she was a fool to call it 'knowing', then she would call it the strongest hunch she ever had. Yet Fiyori grew blind, in a metaphorical sense. The feelings she felt towards Georgia Lee, those warm sentiments she had about the girl, they were still truthful. But they clouded her view, made her think Georgia Lee was worthy of her trust. Worthy of her kindness. Even, perhaps, worthy of her love.
But the truth was, and Fiyori Senay knew that once more, that only one person would leave the island alive.
And Fiyori knew, she would make sure it wasn't Georgia Lee Day who would be granted the honor.
...
Still, there was another problem. Fiyori heard no foot steps fading away, so the intruder, or would-be intruder, had yet to leave. Well that was just great shit now, wasn't it. The situation was dangerous, and Fiyori had to act correctly. And alas, all the words she wanted to throw at GLD, and all the feelings she yearned to unleash at her, they all had to wait.
She hurried over to where her belongings were. She briefly took in the view she had. If it were in a different situation, she was sure, she would have felt truly magical. There would be no time for that, unfortunately. That aside, Fiyori noticed that her bag had already been taken by Georgia Lee. A slight uncomfortable itch arose in her.
She moved towards the kitchen. She met Georgia Lee's eyes. Fiyori noticed herself glaring, snarling at her. But then she noticed that she couldn't see the right hand of hers. It caused her to pause for a moment. Georgia Lee was carrying something, Fiyori guessed. The shovel, she estimated, or worse, a yet-to-be-revealed weapon. Feeling kinda caught between two fronts, Fiyori reminded to cast away all the hostility for a moment, and put up the best smile she could muster. An inappropriate grimace, to be sure, but it was the best thing Fiyori could think of in that moment.
She held her breath until she met again with Georgia Lee, her eyes not leaving hers alone for a single second.
Even then, there was something in her, that told her that she was wrong. That this wasn't what she wanted.
Fiyori halted. A feeling not unlike bile in her mouth filled her. She swallowed, she coughed. And then, with a few more moments of hesitations passing, she put on her glasses.
It was clarity. Not one she could see with her eyes, as they were still looking at the shadow cast by the table. No, it was a clarity of the mind. Because Fiyori Senay always knew. And, if she was a fool to call it 'knowing', then she would call it the strongest hunch she ever had. Yet Fiyori grew blind, in a metaphorical sense. The feelings she felt towards Georgia Lee, those warm sentiments she had about the girl, they were still truthful. But they clouded her view, made her think Georgia Lee was worthy of her trust. Worthy of her kindness. Even, perhaps, worthy of her love.
But the truth was, and Fiyori Senay knew that once more, that only one person would leave the island alive.
And Fiyori knew, she would make sure it wasn't Georgia Lee Day who would be granted the honor.
...
Still, there was another problem. Fiyori heard no foot steps fading away, so the intruder, or would-be intruder, had yet to leave. Well that was just great shit now, wasn't it. The situation was dangerous, and Fiyori had to act correctly. And alas, all the words she wanted to throw at GLD, and all the feelings she yearned to unleash at her, they all had to wait.
She hurried over to where her belongings were. She briefly took in the view she had. If it were in a different situation, she was sure, she would have felt truly magical. There would be no time for that, unfortunately. That aside, Fiyori noticed that her bag had already been taken by Georgia Lee. A slight uncomfortable itch arose in her.
She moved towards the kitchen. She met Georgia Lee's eyes. Fiyori noticed herself glaring, snarling at her. But then she noticed that she couldn't see the right hand of hers. It caused her to pause for a moment. Georgia Lee was carrying something, Fiyori guessed. The shovel, she estimated, or worse, a yet-to-be-revealed weapon. Feeling kinda caught between two fronts, Fiyori reminded to cast away all the hostility for a moment, and put up the best smile she could muster. An inappropriate grimace, to be sure, but it was the best thing Fiyori could think of in that moment.
She held her breath until she met again with Georgia Lee, her eyes not leaving hers alone for a single second.
Gervais Frans Lambotte Blue Jeans and Bloody Tears Martini-Henry Rifle MkIV Pattern
||Selection|Clicks|Lonely|
Blue Jeans and Bloody Tears Martini-Henry Rifle MkIV Pattern||Selection|Clicks|Lonely|
And the door stayed closed. The obvious thing, the smart thing to do would have been to just move on to some other place. Maybe the people that lived here before had locked it when they moved out, and there'd be no hope of ever getting in. And Olivia did, after three days on the island, have some shadow of a plan in her mind. Pub, storehouse, beach, that's how it went.
But the thing was, again, she was alone. She was alone, and even though she had something sharp, something that could kill, and the thought of it just being there made her stomach turn, her blood rush and beat through her veins, even though it could kill, it would be nothing against a gun or a knife or, heck, even just a glass shard. She was defenseless. She was vulnerable. She was alone, and if she moved away from this building, if she left her sanctuary behind, her cave, then she would just get killed, 18 years of her life would culminate in this, and she was moving back, and maybe if she just put in a little more force, the doors would open, and she wouldn't have to leave, and everything would be alright, she would get some water and be safe, it would be alright, and now she was running towards the door, because just another push would be enough, it would be enough.
And then she slammed the door with her shoulder.
But the thing was, again, she was alone. She was alone, and even though she had something sharp, something that could kill, and the thought of it just being there made her stomach turn, her blood rush and beat through her veins, even though it could kill, it would be nothing against a gun or a knife or, heck, even just a glass shard. She was defenseless. She was vulnerable. She was alone, and if she moved away from this building, if she left her sanctuary behind, her cave, then she would just get killed, 18 years of her life would culminate in this, and she was moving back, and maybe if she just put in a little more force, the doors would open, and she wouldn't have to leave, and everything would be alright, she would get some water and be safe, it would be alright, and now she was running towards the door, because just another push would be enough, it would be enough.
And then she slammed the door with her shoulder.
With the crack of a starting pistol, the door shook once against the impromptu barricade placed across it, then was still. The tables shifted slightly, their weight adjusting, creaking. Dust billowed as if the door had coughed.
Georgia Lee's body crouched motionless, but her mind raced. She was in danger.
The tables were old and heavy, but they should hardly be insurmountable. Fiyori and she had moved them about the room with little difficulty, and Georgia Lee couldn't imagine it'd take all that much force to push them aside. A couple of good shoves should do it, or perhaps even less. It sounded like someone had thrown their whole body against the door, but the results had been anticlimactic, so what did that tell her? What did she know?
She could feel Fiyroi's eyes on her. It felts as if the girl's gaze were stripping the flesh away from her face, and for all Georgia Lee knew she may have been imagining just that. Georgia Lee's own eyes were downcast, staring fixedly at the ground in front of her as she tried, increasingly desperate, to keep herself alive.
The barricade wasn't strong, Georgia Lee and Fiyori both knew that. Fiyori was probably, probably not angry or crazy enough to do anything to her with someone trying to get in outside, but the second whoever was trying to get in went away she would pounce, Georgia Lee was certain of it. Of course, if whoever was outside got in instead, they might well kill her and Fiyori both so that was hardly any better, and it wasn't like they'd just stay outside, throwing themselves at the door all day.
The situation was getting away from her. She needed to take control of it.
That they were yet to get in was encouraging, at least. The lack of success that the invader'd had with the door was significant, Georgia Lee was sure of it. It meant they were weak – either wounded or small, though she leant towards the latter, as a wounded person would hardly use their body as a battering ram. If someone weak was pushing the door it meant, most likely, that there was nobody strong with them, and perhaps nobody at all – she hadn't heard voices, after all.
Someone weak, then. Someone alone. Maybe someone hurt. Someone scared, probably. Someone looking for help, for guidance. Someone who'd do what she said.
Someone she could use.
Georgia Lee opened her mouth, preparing to speak, then hesitated. How tall was Isabel Ramirez – five foot nothing? How hard could she push a door?
She tensed herself, muscles stiff and heavy from two days of inactivity, and looked toward the bank of windows along the wall. They were a mess, a cobweb of broken glass and splintered wood, but Georgia Lee fancied her chances with them much more than with an armed and homicidal fellow student. Should the worst come to the worst, Georgia Lee would send the bags sailing through one of those windows and herself through behind them. Killing Fiyori, perhaps, would slow whoever was out there down enough that Georgia Lee might get away.
Lifting her head, she chanced what might have been a last look at the other girl. She searched the girl's face for pity, for friendship, for sentiment – anything that might trigger remorse or regret at her sacrifice. All Georgia Lee saw was another person who it was better to have die than herself.
What was Fiyori really losing, after all? A life as a diner waitress? A drug dealer? Thirty more years giving out truck-stop handjobs before overdosing in a bath, half a dozen kids raised even worse than she had been wailing in the next room? It was an ugly thought, but not an untrue one – she deserved to live more than Fiyori did.
Georgia Lee tightened her grip on the shovel, pulled the bags more securely onto her shoulders, and called out:
"You, out there, listen: We're not looking for a fight in here. We haven't hurt anyone and we don't want to hurt anyone."
She took a breath and steadied herself, and when she spoke again her voice was calmer, more level. There was authority to it.
"But we have a gun, and if you try to force the door again we will shoot you through it in a heartbeat, I swear to God. Tell us your name and throw whatever weapon you have through that hole near the top of the door and you can come in."
Georgia Lee stood, taking slow, hesitant steps toward the door, not taking her eyes of Fiyori as she spoke.
"Or you can leave. Or we can shoot you. These are your options. Choose fast."
Georgia Lee's body crouched motionless, but her mind raced. She was in danger.
The tables were old and heavy, but they should hardly be insurmountable. Fiyori and she had moved them about the room with little difficulty, and Georgia Lee couldn't imagine it'd take all that much force to push them aside. A couple of good shoves should do it, or perhaps even less. It sounded like someone had thrown their whole body against the door, but the results had been anticlimactic, so what did that tell her? What did she know?
She could feel Fiyroi's eyes on her. It felts as if the girl's gaze were stripping the flesh away from her face, and for all Georgia Lee knew she may have been imagining just that. Georgia Lee's own eyes were downcast, staring fixedly at the ground in front of her as she tried, increasingly desperate, to keep herself alive.
The barricade wasn't strong, Georgia Lee and Fiyori both knew that. Fiyori was probably, probably not angry or crazy enough to do anything to her with someone trying to get in outside, but the second whoever was trying to get in went away she would pounce, Georgia Lee was certain of it. Of course, if whoever was outside got in instead, they might well kill her and Fiyori both so that was hardly any better, and it wasn't like they'd just stay outside, throwing themselves at the door all day.
The situation was getting away from her. She needed to take control of it.
That they were yet to get in was encouraging, at least. The lack of success that the invader'd had with the door was significant, Georgia Lee was sure of it. It meant they were weak – either wounded or small, though she leant towards the latter, as a wounded person would hardly use their body as a battering ram. If someone weak was pushing the door it meant, most likely, that there was nobody strong with them, and perhaps nobody at all – she hadn't heard voices, after all.
Someone weak, then. Someone alone. Maybe someone hurt. Someone scared, probably. Someone looking for help, for guidance. Someone who'd do what she said.
Someone she could use.
Georgia Lee opened her mouth, preparing to speak, then hesitated. How tall was Isabel Ramirez – five foot nothing? How hard could she push a door?
She tensed herself, muscles stiff and heavy from two days of inactivity, and looked toward the bank of windows along the wall. They were a mess, a cobweb of broken glass and splintered wood, but Georgia Lee fancied her chances with them much more than with an armed and homicidal fellow student. Should the worst come to the worst, Georgia Lee would send the bags sailing through one of those windows and herself through behind them. Killing Fiyori, perhaps, would slow whoever was out there down enough that Georgia Lee might get away.
Lifting her head, she chanced what might have been a last look at the other girl. She searched the girl's face for pity, for friendship, for sentiment – anything that might trigger remorse or regret at her sacrifice. All Georgia Lee saw was another person who it was better to have die than herself.
What was Fiyori really losing, after all? A life as a diner waitress? A drug dealer? Thirty more years giving out truck-stop handjobs before overdosing in a bath, half a dozen kids raised even worse than she had been wailing in the next room? It was an ugly thought, but not an untrue one – she deserved to live more than Fiyori did.
Georgia Lee tightened her grip on the shovel, pulled the bags more securely onto her shoulders, and called out:
"You, out there, listen: We're not looking for a fight in here. We haven't hurt anyone and we don't want to hurt anyone."
She took a breath and steadied herself, and when she spoke again her voice was calmer, more level. There was authority to it.
"But we have a gun, and if you try to force the door again we will shoot you through it in a heartbeat, I swear to God. Tell us your name and throw whatever weapon you have through that hole near the top of the door and you can come in."
Georgia Lee stood, taking slow, hesitant steps toward the door, not taking her eyes of Fiyori as she spoke.
"Or you can leave. Or we can shoot you. These are your options. Choose fast."
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Whoever was outside slammed themselves once more. Once more, with feeling, against the door. It didn't budge, but the tables shifted ever so slightly. Fiyori paid the movement to heed, but then thought better of it and grew concerned. Slightly, a bit. Still, how much did it matter? Fiyori could believe in the sturdiness of the barricade, she could doubt it's stability, all the same it wasn't what was most important.
Fiyori entered the kitchen. Her eyes, her glorious clear-seeing eyes, rested on the shovel held in Georgia Lee's hands. Fiyori found it not too hard to guess what the purpose of it was. That aside, Georgia Lee was an enigma ever yet. A mystery, whose thoughts eluded Fiyori again and again. She would elude Fiyori once more, and very soon, but for the moment, Fiyori was focused on the now. She shifted her view and meant to stare into Georgia Lee's eyes.
She didn't look back. Instead, Georgia Lee burnt a hole into the ground.
For a moment, Fiyori allowed her mind to slip. She imagined something. Something terrible, horrible. Georgia Lee was alert, and thinking. But she wasn't looking at Fiyori, and she wouldn't notice. Not if Fiyori moved quickly, with decisive movement. She imagined herself leaping on the girl next to her. She imagined her teeth burrowing deep into her throat and she imagined herself ripping out her flesh. She could do it, Fiyori thought. She had eaten raw meat before. She had ripped it apart with the mere power of her mouth, so it was all a matter of mental fortitude.
Georgia Lee looked up. Met Fiyori's gaze for a moment. She let go of the thought.
No, now there was another thing. Something else going on. Georgia Lee tightened the grip on the shovel, on the bag. Then, she called out to whoever was standing out there. And in a moment of surprise, Fiyori nearly bit herself on the tongue.
There was the urge to reprimand her for what she just did. For alerting whoever was outside that there were indeed people inside. She wanted to do so, because Fiyori imagined that GLD would get upset over Fiyori doing it.
In the end she didn't say anything. She looked at the door. There was authority in her voice, as it is with Georgia Lee Day. It annoyed her, but unfortunately, even here and now Fiyori had to concede to it. There was a good chance the person outside followed Georgia Lee's orders. Or perhaps they won't. Perhaps they would call her bluff. Perhaps they would simply invade from another angle.
Then they would all die, but then Fiyori would also be vindicated. After all, that was all that mattered.
She smiled. And giggled. And gazed back to Georgia Lee.
Fiyori entered the kitchen. Her eyes, her glorious clear-seeing eyes, rested on the shovel held in Georgia Lee's hands. Fiyori found it not too hard to guess what the purpose of it was. That aside, Georgia Lee was an enigma ever yet. A mystery, whose thoughts eluded Fiyori again and again. She would elude Fiyori once more, and very soon, but for the moment, Fiyori was focused on the now. She shifted her view and meant to stare into Georgia Lee's eyes.
She didn't look back. Instead, Georgia Lee burnt a hole into the ground.
For a moment, Fiyori allowed her mind to slip. She imagined something. Something terrible, horrible. Georgia Lee was alert, and thinking. But she wasn't looking at Fiyori, and she wouldn't notice. Not if Fiyori moved quickly, with decisive movement. She imagined herself leaping on the girl next to her. She imagined her teeth burrowing deep into her throat and she imagined herself ripping out her flesh. She could do it, Fiyori thought. She had eaten raw meat before. She had ripped it apart with the mere power of her mouth, so it was all a matter of mental fortitude.
Georgia Lee looked up. Met Fiyori's gaze for a moment. She let go of the thought.
No, now there was another thing. Something else going on. Georgia Lee tightened the grip on the shovel, on the bag. Then, she called out to whoever was standing out there. And in a moment of surprise, Fiyori nearly bit herself on the tongue.
There was the urge to reprimand her for what she just did. For alerting whoever was outside that there were indeed people inside. She wanted to do so, because Fiyori imagined that GLD would get upset over Fiyori doing it.
In the end she didn't say anything. She looked at the door. There was authority in her voice, as it is with Georgia Lee Day. It annoyed her, but unfortunately, even here and now Fiyori had to concede to it. There was a good chance the person outside followed Georgia Lee's orders. Or perhaps they won't. Perhaps they would call her bluff. Perhaps they would simply invade from another angle.
Then they would all die, but then Fiyori would also be vindicated. After all, that was all that mattered.
She smiled. And giggled. And gazed back to Georgia Lee.
Gervais Frans Lambotte Blue Jeans and Bloody Tears Martini-Henry Rifle MkIV Pattern
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Blue Jeans and Bloody Tears Martini-Henry Rifle MkIV Pattern||Selection|Clicks|Lonely|
Olivia yelped. Her shoulder pulsated, throbbed with pain, but it wasn't that. There was Georgia Lee. A friend, someone she talked with, more filled out, more realized, more familiar than anyone else she had met on this island. Of the same feather. And someone else, because Georgia Lee had said 'we', 'we' as in she and someone else, two or more people weren't looking for trouble. And she was willing to shoot her. She had a gun, and she was willing to shoot her because she was a threat, because she had slammed the door twice, and she didn't know there was anyone inside, but there was, and they were scared of her, she scared them, Olivia scared them because she couldn't stop fucking alienating everyone she met. And she was willing to shoot her. Her friend.
"G-Georgia Lee?"
And now she was breathing harder, faster than when they had come across Abby, and she was sobbing, and she couldn't handle this, she couldn't, she couldn't, but she had to, she had to choose fast, Georgia said, and as snot started dribbling down her nose, she digged through her bag and got the pick. She held the metal in her hands, and she looked at it. Glared at it. Hated it. She almost raised her hand, almost threw it through that hole. But she stopped. she couldn't let go. She couldn't let it go for the same reasons she hadn't thrown it in the beach, or over the cliffs, or in the corner of her sanctuary. Because her hand would feel naked. Maybe she could hide it in her bag again, and Georgia wouldn't know any better. She could throw a loaf of bread, or, or her pink comb. That would work. But no, then, maybe, Georgia Lee or whoever was with her, they would see that she'd been hiding something from then, they would see her- no, not hers, the pick in the bag, and they wouldn't trust her, and they'd leave her, again and again and again.
And maybe Olivia should do that, like with Bernadette, she should just leave because they sure wouldn't trust her, but this was someone she knew, she knew Georgia Lee and Georgia Lee knew her, and she trusted Georgia Lee, and Georgia Lee wouldn't shoot her, but they didn't trust her right now, Olivia had scared them, threatened them, and they had a gun, and she had to choose, fast, choose, now.
She threw the pick through the hole. And she spoke.
"It's, it's me, Olivia. God, oh God, I'm sorry."
And she continued to stand there, crying, wondering if they'd let her in. Or maybe she should leave before they left her.
"G-Georgia Lee?"
And now she was breathing harder, faster than when they had come across Abby, and she was sobbing, and she couldn't handle this, she couldn't, she couldn't, but she had to, she had to choose fast, Georgia said, and as snot started dribbling down her nose, she digged through her bag and got the pick. She held the metal in her hands, and she looked at it. Glared at it. Hated it. She almost raised her hand, almost threw it through that hole. But she stopped. she couldn't let go. She couldn't let it go for the same reasons she hadn't thrown it in the beach, or over the cliffs, or in the corner of her sanctuary. Because her hand would feel naked. Maybe she could hide it in her bag again, and Georgia wouldn't know any better. She could throw a loaf of bread, or, or her pink comb. That would work. But no, then, maybe, Georgia Lee or whoever was with her, they would see that she'd been hiding something from then, they would see her- no, not hers, the pick in the bag, and they wouldn't trust her, and they'd leave her, again and again and again.
And maybe Olivia should do that, like with Bernadette, she should just leave because they sure wouldn't trust her, but this was someone she knew, she knew Georgia Lee and Georgia Lee knew her, and she trusted Georgia Lee, and Georgia Lee wouldn't shoot her, but they didn't trust her right now, Olivia had scared them, threatened them, and they had a gun, and she had to choose, fast, choose, now.
She threw the pick through the hole. And she spoke.
"It's, it's me, Olivia. God, oh God, I'm sorry."
And she continued to stand there, crying, wondering if they'd let her in. Or maybe she should leave before they left her.
How many years had it been?
Not even one, Georgia Lee realized, and that in itself was a shock. Everything back in Kingman, back in Cochise... it all felt so distant now, so long ago. She had been thinking it had been forever since she'd spent time with Olivia and the two of them had studied together, had talked about books or movies or just sat and clicked through pictures on the internet, but as Georgia Lee struggled to put a date on it, she found it to have been only a matter of months.
Time didn't matter, Georgia Lee understood. When something had changed it didn't matter whether the change took place a minute or a month ago, all that mattered was that things were different. Back home they may been close, but here, in the new world they'd never even known one other.
Olivia's name wasn't among those that Georgia Lee had carved into the table. The omission was more a function of lapse than of leeriness, but Georgia Lee couldn't help but read a certain significance into it. Olivia Fischer was a name, she suspected, that had been left off more than a few lists in its time. As cruel as it was to think, there was a certain, desperate forgettability to the girl which simply made her fade into the background.
In that way, as in many others, Olivia was Fiyori's reverse. Georgia Lee's friend was quiet, kind and reliable, going out of her way to help others and to make the world around her better. Fiyori would dispute you if you said the sky was blue, while you could tell Olivia that it was green and she would smile and nod along. The girl was eager to please and loathe to offend, traits which had made her an easy person to be friends with back home, and which now made her an easy target.
Georgia Lee rejoiced at the sound of her friend's name, even as she cried out in despair at the girl's weakness. When Olivia's weapon, a thin, surgical-looking chisel, fell through the window and skittered off of the barricade, Georgia Lee felt her heart break. There was no way Olivia would survive this place.
She opened the door anyway, tugging the tables aside with one hand as she held the shovel in her other, not letting Fiyori out her peripherals.
Fiyori and Georgia Lee had been hiding out in this cafeteria for days now, but time didn't matter. In the old world the two of them had been allies, but here, in the new world they had never even known one another. This wasn't a place that was safe anymore, and Georgia Lee needed someone to watch her back.
She hugged the girl upon first seeing her, brief and brusque, then stepped back. This is our place, she said with an expansive gesture of her hand. Welcome.
Not even one, Georgia Lee realized, and that in itself was a shock. Everything back in Kingman, back in Cochise... it all felt so distant now, so long ago. She had been thinking it had been forever since she'd spent time with Olivia and the two of them had studied together, had talked about books or movies or just sat and clicked through pictures on the internet, but as Georgia Lee struggled to put a date on it, she found it to have been only a matter of months.
Time didn't matter, Georgia Lee understood. When something had changed it didn't matter whether the change took place a minute or a month ago, all that mattered was that things were different. Back home they may been close, but here, in the new world they'd never even known one other.
Olivia's name wasn't among those that Georgia Lee had carved into the table. The omission was more a function of lapse than of leeriness, but Georgia Lee couldn't help but read a certain significance into it. Olivia Fischer was a name, she suspected, that had been left off more than a few lists in its time. As cruel as it was to think, there was a certain, desperate forgettability to the girl which simply made her fade into the background.
In that way, as in many others, Olivia was Fiyori's reverse. Georgia Lee's friend was quiet, kind and reliable, going out of her way to help others and to make the world around her better. Fiyori would dispute you if you said the sky was blue, while you could tell Olivia that it was green and she would smile and nod along. The girl was eager to please and loathe to offend, traits which had made her an easy person to be friends with back home, and which now made her an easy target.
Georgia Lee rejoiced at the sound of her friend's name, even as she cried out in despair at the girl's weakness. When Olivia's weapon, a thin, surgical-looking chisel, fell through the window and skittered off of the barricade, Georgia Lee felt her heart break. There was no way Olivia would survive this place.
She opened the door anyway, tugging the tables aside with one hand as she held the shovel in her other, not letting Fiyori out her peripherals.
Fiyori and Georgia Lee had been hiding out in this cafeteria for days now, but time didn't matter. In the old world the two of them had been allies, but here, in the new world they had never even known one another. This wasn't a place that was safe anymore, and Georgia Lee needed someone to watch her back.
She hugged the girl upon first seeing her, brief and brusque, then stepped back. This is our place, she said with an expansive gesture of her hand. Welcome.
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A few moments ago, Fiyori made a mental note of how - were the roles reversed - GLD would chide Fiyori for her actions. It came up again, in her mind, when Georgia Lee strutted to the door. The girl didn't bother asking Fiyori at all. Whether she thought it was a good idea, or what they should do now. It made her fucking salty, but she managed to hold her back so far and she won't let go because of that.
Still, Fiyori was a bit surprised. She would have, if asked, admitted to it. She knew Olivia Fischer. You knew - Fiyori knew everyone at Cochise, if not necessarily by name. But no, she knew Olivia. One of the smaller students, Fiyori would even out 5 feet as 'too high' of an estimate. Were somebody to place Olivia directly in front of Fiyori, the girl could engage in literal navel-gazing.
Fiyori leaned into the main room, saw Georgia Lee hugging Olivia. Saw it, and felt some sort of revulsion. She gulped it down, and walked towards the door. Perhaps it would have been the friendly, or maybe the polite thing if Fiyori smiled at Olivia. Gave her a wave of the hand, maybe a hug too. Some sort of welcoming gesture in accord with Georgia Lee's. Would've been nice, but Fiyori was looking at the back of her temporary ally.
She didn't believe it. Not a single inch of it. Georgia Lee Day, the woman Fiyori knew, would not simply hug somebody. And no, Fiyori did not believe that Olivia Fischer was the one exception to the rule. That hug, it was a form of manipulation. Something to lure Olivia in, to prepare her for her future role as an ally. As a momentary tool to advance Georgia Lee Day's interests. It was also a message, to Fiyori.
She hated it. But she knew what it was. She could see the shovel grasped firmly in her palms. She could see the eyes that followed Fiyori out of the periphery.
"Olivia..." Fiyori didn't look at the new arrival. "Do you... I mean, welcome."
Still, Fiyori was a bit surprised. She would have, if asked, admitted to it. She knew Olivia Fischer. You knew - Fiyori knew everyone at Cochise, if not necessarily by name. But no, she knew Olivia. One of the smaller students, Fiyori would even out 5 feet as 'too high' of an estimate. Were somebody to place Olivia directly in front of Fiyori, the girl could engage in literal navel-gazing.
Fiyori leaned into the main room, saw Georgia Lee hugging Olivia. Saw it, and felt some sort of revulsion. She gulped it down, and walked towards the door. Perhaps it would have been the friendly, or maybe the polite thing if Fiyori smiled at Olivia. Gave her a wave of the hand, maybe a hug too. Some sort of welcoming gesture in accord with Georgia Lee's. Would've been nice, but Fiyori was looking at the back of her temporary ally.
She didn't believe it. Not a single inch of it. Georgia Lee Day, the woman Fiyori knew, would not simply hug somebody. And no, Fiyori did not believe that Olivia Fischer was the one exception to the rule. That hug, it was a form of manipulation. Something to lure Olivia in, to prepare her for her future role as an ally. As a momentary tool to advance Georgia Lee Day's interests. It was also a message, to Fiyori.
She hated it. But she knew what it was. She could see the shovel grasped firmly in her palms. She could see the eyes that followed Fiyori out of the periphery.
"Olivia..." Fiyori didn't look at the new arrival. "Do you... I mean, welcome."
Gervais Frans Lambotte Blue Jeans and Bloody Tears Martini-Henry Rifle MkIV Pattern
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Blue Jeans and Bloody Tears Martini-Henry Rifle MkIV Pattern||Selection|Clicks|Lonely|
The door opened. It revealed to her Georgia Lee's face, and don't get her wrong, because words could not describe how happy she felt to see her. Olivia should've been smiling, laughing, her tears should've stopped, or turned into tears of joy at least. She should've almost suffocated Georgia Lee from the force of her hug, almost deafened her from her screams of excitement. Yet that's what not happened.
What happened was the door opened, and Olivia stood still. She did not smile. She gasped. And instead of hugging Georgia Lee, she waited until she was being hugged by her. And only a short hug, the type you give your mother a week after you two fight, at a reunion, when you don't really feel like it but you have to do it anyways to save face. That type of hug. And then she was introduced to their realm. To their sanctuary. And the person that completed Georgia Lee's 'we' was Fiyori, the last person who should've been there.
What happened was instead of feeling immense relief as soon as they opened the door, as soon as they accepted her into their room, instead of feeling light about that, she still felt like an anvil was on her chest, like she still had something to answer for. And she did. She had threatened them, barged into their room. So it only made sense that Georgia Lee's hug was short, that Fiyori's welcome was monotone.
Three days ago, Olivia happened upon Hannah smashing a bit in the cove. And she did not recognize her. She did not see the smiling, friendly Hannah she was familiar with in high school, but some being of rage that happened to share her name and body. She did not recognize her because they were in a new world, and everyone was a new variable, alien. And this was what Olivia must've been to Georgia Lee, some creature of fear that had disrupted their survival, that had struck fear into their hearts. Something Olivia would never have been able to do.
But the same vice versa applied. Georgia Lee was much more familiar to Olivia than she was to her, probably, but she had still barricaded herself in a room with Fiyori. A week ago, Olivia would have thought that impossible, but they were all different in this island. So, what had changed for Georgia Lee? And for Fiyori?
And what was the latter about to ask?
She made herself smile, wiped her eyes and nose with her wrist. Tried to breathe out her tension.
"Thank you."
Not enough. They let her in after what she did, and that was all she could offer?
"Thank you. So much. And, uh, sorry about the door."
She tried to chuckle, but it just came out as quick puffs of air from her nose. And then she looked at Fiyori. Found herself looking at her cheek, rather than her eyes.
"And, do I what?"
What happened was the door opened, and Olivia stood still. She did not smile. She gasped. And instead of hugging Georgia Lee, she waited until she was being hugged by her. And only a short hug, the type you give your mother a week after you two fight, at a reunion, when you don't really feel like it but you have to do it anyways to save face. That type of hug. And then she was introduced to their realm. To their sanctuary. And the person that completed Georgia Lee's 'we' was Fiyori, the last person who should've been there.
What happened was instead of feeling immense relief as soon as they opened the door, as soon as they accepted her into their room, instead of feeling light about that, she still felt like an anvil was on her chest, like she still had something to answer for. And she did. She had threatened them, barged into their room. So it only made sense that Georgia Lee's hug was short, that Fiyori's welcome was monotone.
Three days ago, Olivia happened upon Hannah smashing a bit in the cove. And she did not recognize her. She did not see the smiling, friendly Hannah she was familiar with in high school, but some being of rage that happened to share her name and body. She did not recognize her because they were in a new world, and everyone was a new variable, alien. And this was what Olivia must've been to Georgia Lee, some creature of fear that had disrupted their survival, that had struck fear into their hearts. Something Olivia would never have been able to do.
But the same vice versa applied. Georgia Lee was much more familiar to Olivia than she was to her, probably, but she had still barricaded herself in a room with Fiyori. A week ago, Olivia would have thought that impossible, but they were all different in this island. So, what had changed for Georgia Lee? And for Fiyori?
And what was the latter about to ask?
She made herself smile, wiped her eyes and nose with her wrist. Tried to breathe out her tension.
"Thank you."
Not enough. They let her in after what she did, and that was all she could offer?
"Thank you. So much. And, uh, sorry about the door."
She tried to chuckle, but it just came out as quick puffs of air from her nose. And then she looked at Fiyori. Found herself looking at her cheek, rather than her eyes.
"And, do I what?"
As a child, Georgia Lee had spent every second she had to spare outside. The Days' garden was sprawling and overgrown – a testament to her parents' general faineance and an eyesore to their neighbours, but a wonderland for a small girl looking to escape.
In their tiny, joyless house Georgia Lee had never felt quite at home, constantly waiting for some pointed comment or cruel jest at her expense, but outside... there, she could walk without watching her feet, without worrying about trading on the corner of her sister's shirt and being screamed at. You weren't in anyone's space, outside, because outside was everyone's space and because there was just so much of it. She'd pushed her way through the tangled vegetation in their yard and imagined in stretching on forever and she'd been happy.
Often, she'd thought about making her pretending real. She'd try to picture what would happen if instead of describing a circle within the bounds of her yard she had instead made a line, heading out, out into the world and away from her life. The fantasy had been a comfort for her for years, and many a night she'd gone to sleep, vowing to set out just as she'd dreamed in the morning or in the weekend or if anyone ever spoke to her like that again.
All those plans had come to nothing, of course, and as she'd grown older the idea'd occurred to her less and less. Eventually, she supposed, she'd stopped thinking of it altogether, her fantasies becoming more mature, her desired revenge coming not in the form of disappearance but in independence.
Georgia Lee had never run away from home.
More than the teasing, more than the fear or embarrassment or sadness, what had always made Georgia Lee want to run more than anything was the rain. The first law of marketing, her father had once told her, was that there was no better way to make someone want something than to tell her that she couldn't have it, and perhaps the rain had done that to her. Certainly, it had locked her inside, away from her escape and unable to ignore all the faults of her home, but more than that it had always shown her their inescapability. She couldn't make it on her own, the rain had told her with every drop. She might be able to play pretend in the sun, but the weather would change as weather was wont to, and eventually, always, she would have to run home.
When the showers passed she would always run outside. She loved it, after the rain. The air was clearer, the heat less oppressive, and it was quieter, too: the storm-roar had passed, but people were still indoors and the whole world was just hers. Even as she'd grown older, something about it had always felt more real, somehow, more meaningful.
She'd always known, growing up, that Kingman wasn't like other places. There were no nightclubs here for Annie Hall to sing in, no Tiffany's for Holly Golightly to breakfast at, and perhaps this, too, was why Georgia Lee had hated the rain. In its fleeting, desperate rarity it was always a cruel reminder that she lived in a desert, one both literal and cultural. New Yorkers scrambled and cursed at the rain, but in Kingman it was sparse and special. She'd longed to miss that specialness, and dreamed of being unfazed by the rain.
It was raining now.
Georgia Lee hadn't noticed it right away – absorbed in the appearance of Olivia, she had let her own thoughts drown out the sound of raindrops on the roof. She'd stepped away from the girl, wanting to distance herself, and it was only then, looking out the window that she'd seen the water streaming down it and realized what was happening.
"Fiyori." Georgia Lee motioned her head towards the outdoors. "It's raining."
Never in her life had she been happier about it.
In their tiny, joyless house Georgia Lee had never felt quite at home, constantly waiting for some pointed comment or cruel jest at her expense, but outside... there, she could walk without watching her feet, without worrying about trading on the corner of her sister's shirt and being screamed at. You weren't in anyone's space, outside, because outside was everyone's space and because there was just so much of it. She'd pushed her way through the tangled vegetation in their yard and imagined in stretching on forever and she'd been happy.
Often, she'd thought about making her pretending real. She'd try to picture what would happen if instead of describing a circle within the bounds of her yard she had instead made a line, heading out, out into the world and away from her life. The fantasy had been a comfort for her for years, and many a night she'd gone to sleep, vowing to set out just as she'd dreamed in the morning or in the weekend or if anyone ever spoke to her like that again.
All those plans had come to nothing, of course, and as she'd grown older the idea'd occurred to her less and less. Eventually, she supposed, she'd stopped thinking of it altogether, her fantasies becoming more mature, her desired revenge coming not in the form of disappearance but in independence.
Georgia Lee had never run away from home.
More than the teasing, more than the fear or embarrassment or sadness, what had always made Georgia Lee want to run more than anything was the rain. The first law of marketing, her father had once told her, was that there was no better way to make someone want something than to tell her that she couldn't have it, and perhaps the rain had done that to her. Certainly, it had locked her inside, away from her escape and unable to ignore all the faults of her home, but more than that it had always shown her their inescapability. She couldn't make it on her own, the rain had told her with every drop. She might be able to play pretend in the sun, but the weather would change as weather was wont to, and eventually, always, she would have to run home.
When the showers passed she would always run outside. She loved it, after the rain. The air was clearer, the heat less oppressive, and it was quieter, too: the storm-roar had passed, but people were still indoors and the whole world was just hers. Even as she'd grown older, something about it had always felt more real, somehow, more meaningful.
She'd always known, growing up, that Kingman wasn't like other places. There were no nightclubs here for Annie Hall to sing in, no Tiffany's for Holly Golightly to breakfast at, and perhaps this, too, was why Georgia Lee had hated the rain. In its fleeting, desperate rarity it was always a cruel reminder that she lived in a desert, one both literal and cultural. New Yorkers scrambled and cursed at the rain, but in Kingman it was sparse and special. She'd longed to miss that specialness, and dreamed of being unfazed by the rain.
It was raining now.
Georgia Lee hadn't noticed it right away – absorbed in the appearance of Olivia, she had let her own thoughts drown out the sound of raindrops on the roof. She'd stepped away from the girl, wanting to distance herself, and it was only then, looking out the window that she'd seen the water streaming down it and realized what was happening.
"Fiyori." Georgia Lee motioned her head towards the outdoors. "It's raining."
Never in her life had she been happier about it.
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler frogue. While this handler hasn't been around in quite a while, should they return and wish to take custody of this account and/or its posts, they are welcome to do so by contacting staff.
"You do what?"
Oh. That caught her off guard.
Fiyori was so absorbed in Georgia Lee, that she forgot she asked Olivia a question. Or, perhaps attempted to ask, but then gave up before anything of substance came out of her.
"I mean, of course. I wanted to ask you if you have... something like a cloth for me to clean my glasses. Please."
The funny thing was. She didn't notice it. The dust and the dirt collected on the specs over the few last days. They were kinda there, and Fiyori was in some way aware. But she didn't really contemplate them. Not until she herself gave it attention. It kinda irritated her now. Now, that she really saw it.
She grabbed unto the edge of her poncho. Maybe she could've used it to do some rough cleaning. Maybe. Fiyori looked away from Georgia Lee, and gave Olivia a smile. Maybe, she would, all circumstances aside, try her best and portray a friendly face for her.
It was raining.
Fiyori's head turned to the side. And she mustered the outside. It was, indeed raining. Fiyori could hear the rain fall and drop on the ground. Soft, faint, but present now that she knew. She could hear the occasional gust of wind howl. And she could hear it scatter on the hospital's wall. She moved a step to the window's side, but then halted. Her face turned to look at the shovel in GLD's hand. Then her eyes went up, and she saw something strange, something almost frightening in her ally's face.
Joy. Simply joy.
Fiyori let out a surprised gasp. That face had not been one Fiyori ever would have dared to see. It was another puzzle piece stemming from the great enigma that was Georgia Lee's heart, but for some reason. For some reason she wished was not existing, Fiyori caught herself smiling too. Genuinely, she relaxed the tense muscles of her face. The coy grin she gave Georgia Lee Day was sincere, a contrast to the polite smile she gave Olivia. For a moment, all was right again. For a moment, Fiyori smiled with Georgia Lee, and it was proof of a simple - maybe childish - moment of happiness they both shared.
"Yes, yes it is."
But then it was over. Because Fiyori knew. She knew she could not trust Georgia Lee. She could not trust her, and she could not love her.
Her face hardened, and she forced herself to look away.
Oh. That caught her off guard.
Fiyori was so absorbed in Georgia Lee, that she forgot she asked Olivia a question. Or, perhaps attempted to ask, but then gave up before anything of substance came out of her.
"I mean, of course. I wanted to ask you if you have... something like a cloth for me to clean my glasses. Please."
The funny thing was. She didn't notice it. The dust and the dirt collected on the specs over the few last days. They were kinda there, and Fiyori was in some way aware. But she didn't really contemplate them. Not until she herself gave it attention. It kinda irritated her now. Now, that she really saw it.
She grabbed unto the edge of her poncho. Maybe she could've used it to do some rough cleaning. Maybe. Fiyori looked away from Georgia Lee, and gave Olivia a smile. Maybe, she would, all circumstances aside, try her best and portray a friendly face for her.
It was raining.
Fiyori's head turned to the side. And she mustered the outside. It was, indeed raining. Fiyori could hear the rain fall and drop on the ground. Soft, faint, but present now that she knew. She could hear the occasional gust of wind howl. And she could hear it scatter on the hospital's wall. She moved a step to the window's side, but then halted. Her face turned to look at the shovel in GLD's hand. Then her eyes went up, and she saw something strange, something almost frightening in her ally's face.
Joy. Simply joy.
Fiyori let out a surprised gasp. That face had not been one Fiyori ever would have dared to see. It was another puzzle piece stemming from the great enigma that was Georgia Lee's heart, but for some reason. For some reason she wished was not existing, Fiyori caught herself smiling too. Genuinely, she relaxed the tense muscles of her face. The coy grin she gave Georgia Lee Day was sincere, a contrast to the polite smile she gave Olivia. For a moment, all was right again. For a moment, Fiyori smiled with Georgia Lee, and it was proof of a simple - maybe childish - moment of happiness they both shared.
"Yes, yes it is."
But then it was over. Because Fiyori knew. She knew she could not trust Georgia Lee. She could not trust her, and she could not love her.
Her face hardened, and she forced herself to look away.
Gervais Frans Lambotte Blue Jeans and Bloody Tears Martini-Henry Rifle MkIV Pattern
||Selection|Clicks|Lonely|
Blue Jeans and Bloody Tears Martini-Henry Rifle MkIV Pattern||Selection|Clicks|Lonely|