((Asha Sur could have just as easily been screaming this entire time.))
Asha honestly hadn't expected Wayne to come along with her and Dorothy, but people always had the capacity to pleasantly surprise you. Maybe he'd open up a bit now that they were away from Mr. Machete, maybe he wouldn't. Either option was fine, so long as he was comfortable. Asha was all for creating a positive atmosphere for anyone, no matter how distrustful or twitchy. Some people were just easier to work with than others.
In any case, they were fine for now. It didn't matter whether their party consisted of three demons, or two demons and an exorcist. Either way, the numbers were on happiness's side. Asha had no real destination in mind, but she didn't think it'd be good for either Wayne or Dorothy to be in a confined area right now. Open skies lead to open minds, so she gave the old asylum a wide berth. She itched to go inside it, to explore what seemed the set of a horror movie transported into the real world, but that'd just be selfish at this point. Anyways, it was definitely haunted as shit, so it'd be much more worthwhile to start any sightseeing once the sun went down.
Eventually, they reached the fence that was the only thing separating them from falling and breaking on the rocks below. A poetic way to die, but not pleasant for anyone involved, so Asha was glad the fence was in good condition. The view was goddamn gorgeous, meaning it seemed as good a place as any to stop for a while. Blue seas and skies, easy on the eyes. She twirled around and leaned against the fence, facing Dorothy and Wayne. Time to lighten the mood a little. "Y'know, before, I would've killed for a chance to explore a cool deserted island like this. I guess this really is a once in a lifetime opportunity," Asha said with a quick laugh.
Time steals us all away one day, does it not?
It robs us of the things we want to hold onto the most. (Open)
((Wayne Cox continued from AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARGH))
"A view to kill for, huh." Wayne hooked his fingers through the diamond-shaped fence links and stared out to sea. "That's a bad turn of phrase if I've ever heard one."
It'd been a long walk. Nothing but small talk from him. One foot in front of the other. He'd considered ditching them more than a couple of times, especially when they ended up going north again, skirting far too close to the beach for his liking. He wasn't under any obligation to stay - in fact, he was more of a tagalong, a third wheel here than anything else. He was the first one that would be sacrificed when things got tough.
But he hadn't been thinking about that too much. He almost wished he had; at least that was living in the present, in the future, rather than the past.
Instead, the same thoughts had caught up to him again, and he'd had plenty of time to mull over what he'd done back at the beach.
Theft. Robbery. Mugging. He could call it what he wanted. None of them were good things. He could justify it if he tried. Just self-preservation, which was, at face value, pure and simple.
If he'd thought about it - and he had thought about it, as they had climbed the slopes and passed buildings to get here - the second best thing that could happen to them all was simple, too. The best was a miraculous rescue. A pipe dream, if ever he'd had cause to dream. The second best was simply getting someone who was worth it out of this place alive.
Wasn't that what the terrorists called it, what this whole thing stood for? Even if it was cruel and unusual, even if they all deserved not to be thrown into something like this... wasn't it still better if someone who was "fittest" survived?
Someone who could speak out against this, someone who could cope afterwards. Someone who could make the most of their life.
Not someone like him.
Looking at the expanse of water in front of him, he wondered if he was looking in the direction of home.
"A view to kill for, huh." Wayne hooked his fingers through the diamond-shaped fence links and stared out to sea. "That's a bad turn of phrase if I've ever heard one."
It'd been a long walk. Nothing but small talk from him. One foot in front of the other. He'd considered ditching them more than a couple of times, especially when they ended up going north again, skirting far too close to the beach for his liking. He wasn't under any obligation to stay - in fact, he was more of a tagalong, a third wheel here than anything else. He was the first one that would be sacrificed when things got tough.
But he hadn't been thinking about that too much. He almost wished he had; at least that was living in the present, in the future, rather than the past.
Instead, the same thoughts had caught up to him again, and he'd had plenty of time to mull over what he'd done back at the beach.
Theft. Robbery. Mugging. He could call it what he wanted. None of them were good things. He could justify it if he tried. Just self-preservation, which was, at face value, pure and simple.
If he'd thought about it - and he had thought about it, as they had climbed the slopes and passed buildings to get here - the second best thing that could happen to them all was simple, too. The best was a miraculous rescue. A pipe dream, if ever he'd had cause to dream. The second best was simply getting someone who was worth it out of this place alive.
Wasn't that what the terrorists called it, what this whole thing stood for? Even if it was cruel and unusual, even if they all deserved not to be thrown into something like this... wasn't it still better if someone who was "fittest" survived?
Someone who could speak out against this, someone who could cope afterwards. Someone who could make the most of their life.
Not someone like him.
Looking at the expanse of water in front of him, he wondered if he was looking in the direction of home.
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(Dorothy continued from her possible last word)
Barb wires? Fences? Steep cliff?
That sound like a prison to Dorothy. She was a prisoner of this island too. She imagined the people, hitting the walls of their cells, claiming their innocence. They were accused of horrible things like murder, rape, and scary thing she's rather not think about. The crime varied between the individuals.
But what was Dorothy's? She was punished for nothing. None expect living. Maybe the terrorists thought they were doing God's work by cleaning the filth, or maybe to create fear, hence terror in their name, in the population. The scariest option, however, was simple. Maybe they just did that out of fun, maybe they enjoyed looking at kids killing each other, maybe they kept the recordings of the version to watch when they're born. She truly wondered what made the terrorists tick.
They have a ton of cameras, weapons, and futuristic collar. They had to be rich. To be full of cash, you had to either inherite it or work through for it. She'd have to do research about newly made billionaires if she was to get out of here. Stop this whole thing with crying, blood, pain, death, and stupid wooden sticks.
The mood was up for humor, apparently. She tried to think about a joke involving "kill", but the most logical ones were already taken. She thought about Alex as a source of inspiration. She cleared her throat while she ran her index across the fence. The view was beautiful.
"Hey, hum."
She pushed a little more.
"Is a machete a big knife or a small sword? I know this is out of context but it's annoying me."
Barb wires? Fences? Steep cliff?
That sound like a prison to Dorothy. She was a prisoner of this island too. She imagined the people, hitting the walls of their cells, claiming their innocence. They were accused of horrible things like murder, rape, and scary thing she's rather not think about. The crime varied between the individuals.
But what was Dorothy's? She was punished for nothing. None expect living. Maybe the terrorists thought they were doing God's work by cleaning the filth, or maybe to create fear, hence terror in their name, in the population. The scariest option, however, was simple. Maybe they just did that out of fun, maybe they enjoyed looking at kids killing each other, maybe they kept the recordings of the version to watch when they're born. She truly wondered what made the terrorists tick.
They have a ton of cameras, weapons, and futuristic collar. They had to be rich. To be full of cash, you had to either inherite it or work through for it. She'd have to do research about newly made billionaires if she was to get out of here. Stop this whole thing with crying, blood, pain, death, and stupid wooden sticks.
The mood was up for humor, apparently. She tried to think about a joke involving "kill", but the most logical ones were already taken. She thought about Alex as a source of inspiration. She cleared her throat while she ran her index across the fence. The view was beautiful.
"Hey, hum."
She pushed a little more.
"Is a machete a big knife or a small sword? I know this is out of context but it's annoying me."
"Thaaaat's the joke!" Asha said to Wayne as she sank down against the fence, coming to rest on the ground. Not much point in trying to keep her skirt clean, really, and she could use a minute to sit down. She would've tried to keep the nominally-humor train going with a comment about her feet killing her, but it's not like walking for a while even came close to what her poor feet went through in ballet. "And I think it'd be a big knife, Dot. Machetes are supposed to like, cut through brush and stuff, right? So it's a tool you can incidentally use to kill people, not a legit weapon." Improvised weapons could never be quite as elegant as the real things.
Asha glanced at the others, then had to stifle a laugh. It looked like the three of them were posing for a photoshoot, angstily posing against the chainlink fence, gazing somberly at the ocean and contemplating. What would they all be, goth goth, pastel goth, business casual goth? Nah. No need to try to force the label. What really mattered was that they both looked like they were thinking about some serious shit.
Painting over the cracks is all well and good until the pavement shatters below your feet and you're plunged straight into hell. Asha didn't want to force anyone to talk, but keeping quiet and stewing about their future would only hurt them in the long run. She knew that everyone had to have some creeping horrors shambling through their heads right about now, and communication was a key in any relationship; even an "alliance" on death island. They could go back to making shitty puns once everyone had vented. "So. What's on your guys's minds?" Asha asked.
Asha glanced at the others, then had to stifle a laugh. It looked like the three of them were posing for a photoshoot, angstily posing against the chainlink fence, gazing somberly at the ocean and contemplating. What would they all be, goth goth, pastel goth, business casual goth? Nah. No need to try to force the label. What really mattered was that they both looked like they were thinking about some serious shit.
Painting over the cracks is all well and good until the pavement shatters below your feet and you're plunged straight into hell. Asha didn't want to force anyone to talk, but keeping quiet and stewing about their future would only hurt them in the long run. She knew that everyone had to have some creeping horrors shambling through their heads right about now, and communication was a key in any relationship; even an "alliance" on death island. They could go back to making shitty puns once everyone had vented. "So. What's on your guys's minds?" Asha asked.
"Not much."
Wayne thought he could feel small vibrations in the fence as Dorothy pressed her finger against it - from her finger to the fence, into his fingers and up his arms. He considered rattling the fence a bit to send those vibrations back, but thought better of it. Too spastic. It was weird enough that he'd thought of it as a communication of some sort, that sending it back would mean some sort of physical connection, some acknowledgement that both of them were real. That they were really here, touching this fence, walled in and left to die.
He wasn't likely to get that across by shaking a fence, but perhaps that made sense, in a way. Actions meant more than words.
Truth was, he fucked up a lot. All the time. Made all sorts of mistakes. Did the wrong things on instinct, did the right things only for selfish reasons. The only thing words did was make him feel better. He could call himself a good person, and if he repeated it enough, perhaps he'd end up believing it, too.
He knew better. He supposed it was only cowardice that kept him from telling them the truth.
Wayne let his duffel bag strap slip from his shoulder, catching it in the crook of his arm. Then he unhooked his fingers. Turned himself back around. Asha had decided to sit, so he was free to assume her previous position of leaning on the fence.
"Thinking of home, I guess." If Asha was doing this for their benefit, it was probably more for Dot than for him. He let his gaze wander over towards the other girl, figuring she'd have something better to say.
Wayne thought he could feel small vibrations in the fence as Dorothy pressed her finger against it - from her finger to the fence, into his fingers and up his arms. He considered rattling the fence a bit to send those vibrations back, but thought better of it. Too spastic. It was weird enough that he'd thought of it as a communication of some sort, that sending it back would mean some sort of physical connection, some acknowledgement that both of them were real. That they were really here, touching this fence, walled in and left to die.
He wasn't likely to get that across by shaking a fence, but perhaps that made sense, in a way. Actions meant more than words.
Truth was, he fucked up a lot. All the time. Made all sorts of mistakes. Did the wrong things on instinct, did the right things only for selfish reasons. The only thing words did was make him feel better. He could call himself a good person, and if he repeated it enough, perhaps he'd end up believing it, too.
He knew better. He supposed it was only cowardice that kept him from telling them the truth.
Wayne let his duffel bag strap slip from his shoulder, catching it in the crook of his arm. Then he unhooked his fingers. Turned himself back around. Asha had decided to sit, so he was free to assume her previous position of leaning on the fence.
"Thinking of home, I guess." If Asha was doing this for their benefit, it was probably more for Dot than for him. He let his gaze wander over towards the other girl, figuring she'd have something better to say.
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Dorothy sat down, still clutching her duffel bag like a life buoy. She tried make herself as small as possible, concentrated in one spot. She didn't want the people to look at her. The people watching her from behind the cameras, that is. The idea that someone was enjoying, other than terrorists obviously, watching her scared her. Maybe those people were the teachers from her school or her parents.
Those weren't so bad, chances are, they were worrying about her classmates and herself. However, the idea of voyeurs peeping in to look at kids murdering each other for enjoyement was repulsing. She felt disgusted because of those masked viewers, hiding behind their computers, having their own sick fantasies.
How was she suppose to tell that to Asha and Wayne?
She knew she couldn't just go: "I'm thinking about everybody watching us," or "Hey, do you think the people looking at us are creeps or perverts?" She felt if she did, she would encourage the terrorists, make them win, make them happy. They wanted her to break and to ache, to question herself and kill someone. She wouldn't let them have that victory over her.
Dorothy twirled her finger around the fence. She kept her eyes on the ocean, thinking about swimming away and leaving this island. She wanted to see a ship at large, coming to save them. She wanted to hear a helicopter's gusts of artificial wind. She wanted to be saved from this place.
But nobody was coming. She knew that. Nobody would save them. To save them, they'd have to know where they are, the students had to communicate with the outside world, but how? Doing smoke signals would just bring out students that could be out of blood. And then an idea came.
"I'm thinking about our parents and families and friends back home. Maybe we could talk to them through a camera or write something down and show the message."
She thought about writing a will but she couldn't let the terrorists have a win.
Those weren't so bad, chances are, they were worrying about her classmates and herself. However, the idea of voyeurs peeping in to look at kids murdering each other for enjoyement was repulsing. She felt disgusted because of those masked viewers, hiding behind their computers, having their own sick fantasies.
How was she suppose to tell that to Asha and Wayne?
She knew she couldn't just go: "I'm thinking about everybody watching us," or "Hey, do you think the people looking at us are creeps or perverts?" She felt if she did, she would encourage the terrorists, make them win, make them happy. They wanted her to break and to ache, to question herself and kill someone. She wouldn't let them have that victory over her.
Dorothy twirled her finger around the fence. She kept her eyes on the ocean, thinking about swimming away and leaving this island. She wanted to see a ship at large, coming to save them. She wanted to hear a helicopter's gusts of artificial wind. She wanted to be saved from this place.
But nobody was coming. She knew that. Nobody would save them. To save them, they'd have to know where they are, the students had to communicate with the outside world, but how? Doing smoke signals would just bring out students that could be out of blood. And then an idea came.
"I'm thinking about our parents and families and friends back home. Maybe we could talk to them through a camera or write something down and show the message."
She thought about writing a will but she couldn't let the terrorists have a win.
Wayne didn't seem to want to talk much, but that was fine. Asha had given him a chance to speak, and pushing him any further would just be rude. If he wanted to talk later, she'd still be around, hopefully. People had to deal with that shit at their own paces, she could get that. 'Home' was honestly a topic that Asha'd prefer to avoid, herself. Sure, she was gonna die and that was all well and good and didn't bear questioning anymore, but it honestly still hurt to think about what'd happen afterwards.
Asha had it easy. In the end, if she still existed, she'd probably have some swanky afterlife to occupy herself with, or at least be able to haunt the shit outta some nerds. If she didn't exist anymore, well, that was that. Her family, though? Her friends? They'd have to live with her death for the rest of their lives. It'd destroy her mom, probably. From what Asha'd heard of her life, she'd had it rough before she made it to the US. Asha hated the thought that she'd just be another dagger stuck deep into everyone's hearts, leaving scar after scar after scar in her wake. She'd never wanted to hurt anyone.
Dorothy seemed to be thinking the same thing, poor girl. Asha wished she knew what answer to give her, so she could turn right around and say it to herself too. "Sorry, Dot, but I don't think that's a good idea. I mean, in a parallel universe where a meteor hit our bus and instantly killed us all, do you really think that our parents would want to pick through the rubble, and when they find our crispy, grotesque bodies, think to themselves 'this used to be our beloved daughter, who we sung to sleep at night and looked after our entire life'? Hell no. So this is the same thing. We're dead, every single one of us, the world's just missed the memo for a while, yeah? Forcing anyone who loved us to look at us now would just hurt them, in the end. Y'know, I always sorta wanted to be an undead." Asha's laugh sounded a lot more tired, now.
She realized that she'd fucked up, had gone too dark, too graphic, but it was too late to take any of that back. The fact that it was what she truly believed didn't mean she was free of any responsibility to cushion the blow, to try and make the truth easier and less painful for everyone to accept. Asha never thought that all it'd take was a single mention of home to make her lose face. She'd have to be much more careful in the future.
Asha had it easy. In the end, if she still existed, she'd probably have some swanky afterlife to occupy herself with, or at least be able to haunt the shit outta some nerds. If she didn't exist anymore, well, that was that. Her family, though? Her friends? They'd have to live with her death for the rest of their lives. It'd destroy her mom, probably. From what Asha'd heard of her life, she'd had it rough before she made it to the US. Asha hated the thought that she'd just be another dagger stuck deep into everyone's hearts, leaving scar after scar after scar in her wake. She'd never wanted to hurt anyone.
Dorothy seemed to be thinking the same thing, poor girl. Asha wished she knew what answer to give her, so she could turn right around and say it to herself too. "Sorry, Dot, but I don't think that's a good idea. I mean, in a parallel universe where a meteor hit our bus and instantly killed us all, do you really think that our parents would want to pick through the rubble, and when they find our crispy, grotesque bodies, think to themselves 'this used to be our beloved daughter, who we sung to sleep at night and looked after our entire life'? Hell no. So this is the same thing. We're dead, every single one of us, the world's just missed the memo for a while, yeah? Forcing anyone who loved us to look at us now would just hurt them, in the end. Y'know, I always sorta wanted to be an undead." Asha's laugh sounded a lot more tired, now.
She realized that she'd fucked up, had gone too dark, too graphic, but it was too late to take any of that back. The fact that it was what she truly believed didn't mean she was free of any responsibility to cushion the blow, to try and make the truth easier and less painful for everyone to accept. Asha never thought that all it'd take was a single mention of home to make her lose face. She'd have to be much more careful in the future.
They were already dead. That was a thought.
It was... strange. When Asha laughed, Wayne felt a crazy laugh bubbling and scratching in his throat, and he pressed it down, deep down, and hoped it would never resurface. It was funny, but not the right kind of funny.
If he'd already decided he didn't deserve to live more than the others, if he was already dead by all accounts, why was his heart beating so fast at the thought? Why was it so hard to accept? Why didn't he just throw his ill-gotten supplies and the knife they'd given him to the winds, pitch them right above the razor tips of the fence to watch them skitter down the cliffs into the ocean?
"They should have just bombed our bus. Like all the other terrorists out there. Just... just think about all the trouble they could have saved themselves." He gave a dark chuckle. "That's terror. Life ending just like that. All this shows is that teenagers can be shitty people too."
That came probably a little too close to cracking the facade than he felt comfortable with. He let out a breath, tried to force himself back to a semblance of stability.
"I'd need some time, anyway. I wouldn't know what to say right now."
It was... strange. When Asha laughed, Wayne felt a crazy laugh bubbling and scratching in his throat, and he pressed it down, deep down, and hoped it would never resurface. It was funny, but not the right kind of funny.
If he'd already decided he didn't deserve to live more than the others, if he was already dead by all accounts, why was his heart beating so fast at the thought? Why was it so hard to accept? Why didn't he just throw his ill-gotten supplies and the knife they'd given him to the winds, pitch them right above the razor tips of the fence to watch them skitter down the cliffs into the ocean?
"They should have just bombed our bus. Like all the other terrorists out there. Just... just think about all the trouble they could have saved themselves." He gave a dark chuckle. "That's terror. Life ending just like that. All this shows is that teenagers can be shitty people too."
That came probably a little too close to cracking the facade than he felt comfortable with. He let out a breath, tried to force himself back to a semblance of stability.
"I'd need some time, anyway. I wouldn't know what to say right now."
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Iceblock. 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.
Dorothy let a nervous giggle out of a throat then proceeded to repress it. She wanted to add something about their bus crashing into a building or something when Asha's struck her.
Was Asha losing it? Dorothy never heard her say something like that. Maybe she said that kind of stuff on a regular basis when Dot wasn't around but it sounded like Asha was joking, Dot decided to believe it wasn't a big deal. If it was a big deal, then Asha was either losing it or taking the situation really, really nicely. In both cases, Dorothy wanted to stay with her. Friends don't let other friends go insane on murder island, and maybe Asha will help her out too.
She had to keep an eye on her, but she knew she could trust her.
Unlike Wayne. He was playing into Asha's game. Well, kinda. Other than that, she knew nothing about him other than his whole fidgetiness and nervousness. It was normal to be like that. Heck, even Dorothy wanted to stress eat the fear away and she was scared of every noises. Something about him was off, though. Chances are, he was thinking the same about the girls, especially Asha with her whole nihilistic view on the game and maybe even Dorothy with her random giggling. At this point, it was too early to decide if Wayne was a foe and he was a good guy.
He was someone else she had to keep her eye on.
After listening to their exchange, she realized it was her turn to speak. So she decide to investigate the idea of-
"Accepting death, uh?"
It was supposed to be a thought, but she blurt that out like an idiot. Whoops, that slipped out of her mouth like a bug inside a shoe. Well, looked like she had to finish the sentence,
"I... I'd rather not. I mean, yeah I'm probably going to die, but... I don't know. I just don't want to."
Was Asha losing it? Dorothy never heard her say something like that. Maybe she said that kind of stuff on a regular basis when Dot wasn't around but it sounded like Asha was joking, Dot decided to believe it wasn't a big deal. If it was a big deal, then Asha was either losing it or taking the situation really, really nicely. In both cases, Dorothy wanted to stay with her. Friends don't let other friends go insane on murder island, and maybe Asha will help her out too.
She had to keep an eye on her, but she knew she could trust her.
Unlike Wayne. He was playing into Asha's game. Well, kinda. Other than that, she knew nothing about him other than his whole fidgetiness and nervousness. It was normal to be like that. Heck, even Dorothy wanted to stress eat the fear away and she was scared of every noises. Something about him was off, though. Chances are, he was thinking the same about the girls, especially Asha with her whole nihilistic view on the game and maybe even Dorothy with her random giggling. At this point, it was too early to decide if Wayne was a foe and he was a good guy.
He was someone else she had to keep her eye on.
After listening to their exchange, she realized it was her turn to speak. So she decide to investigate the idea of-
"Accepting death, uh?"
It was supposed to be a thought, but she blurt that out like an idiot. Whoops, that slipped out of her mouth like a bug inside a shoe. Well, looked like she had to finish the sentence,
"I... I'd rather not. I mean, yeah I'm probably going to die, but... I don't know. I just don't want to."
Ha. Wayne had the right idea. The point was probably for them to not be like every other group of murderous assholes with a bone to pick, though. That'd be too pedestrian, especially when you could convince your victims to do half the work for you. Fucking hipster terrorists. It was fine that Wayne needed time to try and cope, Asha could hardly expect anyone without her own particular brand of morbidity to completely embrace nihilism only a couple hours after washing up on the shores of a nightmare.
Unfortunately, Dorothy seemed actively resistant to the idea. Asha couldn't blame her, and she definitely didn't want to try and force her to agree. Free will was what made people, well, people, for better or worse. Hopefully better. Even if people weren't fundamentally good, Asha was sure they fundamentally wanted to be. Still, though; they may never have another chance to talk. The creeping horrors of the early morning could swallow them up at any moment, and Asha wanted to at least voice her thoughts while it was still safe.
Asha got up and stood, shifting her position so she was facing both Wayne and Dorothy. She'd have to watch her words this time, avoid mentioning the swarming insects and squirming maggots that'll make their cooling corpses their homes after the end, if the terrorists didn't just burn them all until there was nothing but bones and ashes left. That's probably what would happen, Asha figured they'd want to save money instead of hiring a terror-janitor.
"Hey, Dot. You too, Wayne. Just hear me out for a minute, yeah?" Asha said, looking Dorothy in the eyes. She wasn't sure if a smile would make her upcoming speech more or less unnerving, so she went with the option that at least made her look happy. "You know how they're planning on making us do... well, all the bad shit, right?" The hacking and slashing and maiming, not to mention piercing and bludgeoning. Must be at least fifty ways to murder your friends.
"They're counting on making us desperate, by dangling just a bit of hope in front of us so we'll happily run on the murder treadmill. But what's the point of it all, really? Do any of us honestly expect to beat the, what is it, hundred-something-to-one odds of making it out alive? Do you really want to spend your last waking moments on this fuckin' beautiful planet wondering whether or not your best friend is gonna try and kill you for a bottle of water? That's bullshit, all of it." Asha grew more and more passionate as she talked, smile now almost completely genuine.
"I don't wanna live for an extra day or two if it means I can't smell the roses, or stop to make terrible puns with you guys, y'know?" Asha said, switching her focus away from her companions in order to get back to leaning against the fence and staring wistfully at the horizon. For effect. "Don't worry, I'm not trying to start like, a death cult or anything," she laughed. Asha couldn't deny she looked the part. "I just want to give people the chance to be happy in what's pretty much the worst possible situation. If you're not down, if you think I'm crazy, that's cool; I get it."
That basically summed it up. Time to see how the others took it.
Unfortunately, Dorothy seemed actively resistant to the idea. Asha couldn't blame her, and she definitely didn't want to try and force her to agree. Free will was what made people, well, people, for better or worse. Hopefully better. Even if people weren't fundamentally good, Asha was sure they fundamentally wanted to be. Still, though; they may never have another chance to talk. The creeping horrors of the early morning could swallow them up at any moment, and Asha wanted to at least voice her thoughts while it was still safe.
Asha got up and stood, shifting her position so she was facing both Wayne and Dorothy. She'd have to watch her words this time, avoid mentioning the swarming insects and squirming maggots that'll make their cooling corpses their homes after the end, if the terrorists didn't just burn them all until there was nothing but bones and ashes left. That's probably what would happen, Asha figured they'd want to save money instead of hiring a terror-janitor.
"Hey, Dot. You too, Wayne. Just hear me out for a minute, yeah?" Asha said, looking Dorothy in the eyes. She wasn't sure if a smile would make her upcoming speech more or less unnerving, so she went with the option that at least made her look happy. "You know how they're planning on making us do... well, all the bad shit, right?" The hacking and slashing and maiming, not to mention piercing and bludgeoning. Must be at least fifty ways to murder your friends.
"They're counting on making us desperate, by dangling just a bit of hope in front of us so we'll happily run on the murder treadmill. But what's the point of it all, really? Do any of us honestly expect to beat the, what is it, hundred-something-to-one odds of making it out alive? Do you really want to spend your last waking moments on this fuckin' beautiful planet wondering whether or not your best friend is gonna try and kill you for a bottle of water? That's bullshit, all of it." Asha grew more and more passionate as she talked, smile now almost completely genuine.
"I don't wanna live for an extra day or two if it means I can't smell the roses, or stop to make terrible puns with you guys, y'know?" Asha said, switching her focus away from her companions in order to get back to leaning against the fence and staring wistfully at the horizon. For effect. "Don't worry, I'm not trying to start like, a death cult or anything," she laughed. Asha couldn't deny she looked the part. "I just want to give people the chance to be happy in what's pretty much the worst possible situation. If you're not down, if you think I'm crazy, that's cool; I get it."
That basically summed it up. Time to see how the others took it.
Wayne had always admired people who were passionate about something. Art, writing, math, robotics, football - it didn't matter. When they found their passion, they gave it one hundred percent. They thought. They created.
Where they produced, he consumed. To make a video game was admirable. To play one was not.
That was part of the gap that had always hounded him, the gap between who he was and who he could be, the gap between who he was and who he should be. Intuitively he knew he should have had some kind of passion, something he cared about. He didn't. Gardening didn't count; he'd feared that once he got a job - if he got a job - it would have shown him that he only cared for it as a hobby. And drawing? That was just something he did to avoid doing what he needed to do.
Just another part of that ideal him he should have been. If he tried harder. If he could just shut everyone out and fix himself. But he never could.
He saw that passion, that conviction in Asha's eyes and in the set of her smile, heard it in the tone of her voice.
In that moment he placed Asha above him in his mental hierarchy.
Dorothy was right too, in that what she said seemed to so simply state what he had been trying to grasp all along. She didn't want to accept death. He couldn't either. He had his advantage, his weapon, and the panic and fear that lurked at the edge of his mind. He couldn't let them go, even if he wanted to.
"I think I get it," Wayne finally said. He nodded slightly, then leaned back a little deeper into the fence and looked at the sky, all too aware of where the other two were in relation to him and the places in the corners of his vision where someone else might suddenly pop up out of the blue. "It's not like I've got anything better to do, so... if we go with that, how do we get started?"
Where they produced, he consumed. To make a video game was admirable. To play one was not.
That was part of the gap that had always hounded him, the gap between who he was and who he could be, the gap between who he was and who he should be. Intuitively he knew he should have had some kind of passion, something he cared about. He didn't. Gardening didn't count; he'd feared that once he got a job - if he got a job - it would have shown him that he only cared for it as a hobby. And drawing? That was just something he did to avoid doing what he needed to do.
Just another part of that ideal him he should have been. If he tried harder. If he could just shut everyone out and fix himself. But he never could.
He saw that passion, that conviction in Asha's eyes and in the set of her smile, heard it in the tone of her voice.
In that moment he placed Asha above him in his mental hierarchy.
Dorothy was right too, in that what she said seemed to so simply state what he had been trying to grasp all along. She didn't want to accept death. He couldn't either. He had his advantage, his weapon, and the panic and fear that lurked at the edge of his mind. He couldn't let them go, even if he wanted to.
"I think I get it," Wayne finally said. He nodded slightly, then leaned back a little deeper into the fence and looked at the sky, all too aware of where the other two were in relation to him and the places in the corners of his vision where someone else might suddenly pop up out of the blue. "It's not like I've got anything better to do, so... if we go with that, how do we get started?"
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"I think..."
She bit her tongue. Not hard enough to draw blood but enough to shut her up. Don't say something you'll regret, she thought. She couldn't just say "well, we should all join hands and leap off a building" or something like that. No, she had to be thoughtful.
But...how the hell can you be thoughtful and caring and whatnot here? It was just a matter of time before their primal instinct kicked in. Just one misplaced word, and all of their teetering lives will go fall. She had to bring the subject up, she couldn't just forget it and procrastinate it. There was no way she could hide behind a black curtain or shove it in a box then throw it away.
It was an obvious point, one of them will flip. One of them - Asha, Wayne, Dot - will lose their final bit of sanity and they'll become a time bomb. Just waiting to explode and steal the lives of those around them while taking themselves down. It was a matter of days, hours, maybe even minutes before their group implodes.
"I think you make sense Asha, but I can't afford letting them take my life and my, uh, person? Or is it morals? I don't know, but you get it right? I'm fine with you accepting death, but, for me, I just can't. I have to believe in hope and life because if I stopped... I think I'd just shutdown"
She hoped she didn't come off as scrambled. She did that sometimes, and people had to ask her what was she talking about to understand her. She had to finish with a strong point if that was the case.
"I... I'll accept my death when I'll be dead, not before."
She bit her tongue. Not hard enough to draw blood but enough to shut her up. Don't say something you'll regret, she thought. She couldn't just say "well, we should all join hands and leap off a building" or something like that. No, she had to be thoughtful.
But...how the hell can you be thoughtful and caring and whatnot here? It was just a matter of time before their primal instinct kicked in. Just one misplaced word, and all of their teetering lives will go fall. She had to bring the subject up, she couldn't just forget it and procrastinate it. There was no way she could hide behind a black curtain or shove it in a box then throw it away.
It was an obvious point, one of them will flip. One of them - Asha, Wayne, Dot - will lose their final bit of sanity and they'll become a time bomb. Just waiting to explode and steal the lives of those around them while taking themselves down. It was a matter of days, hours, maybe even minutes before their group implodes.
"I think you make sense Asha, but I can't afford letting them take my life and my, uh, person? Or is it morals? I don't know, but you get it right? I'm fine with you accepting death, but, for me, I just can't. I have to believe in hope and life because if I stopped... I think I'd just shutdown"
She hoped she didn't come off as scrambled. She did that sometimes, and people had to ask her what was she talking about to understand her. She had to finish with a strong point if that was the case.
"I... I'll accept my death when I'll be dead, not before."
Dammit. Now Wayne was expecting something from Asha. Sure, she was glad he listened, but just getting that far had basically been the entirety of her plan. It was really more of a way of life than anything else - well, a way of death, more like. Asha knew she wasn't leader material, and even in ballet she'd always been content to stay out of the competition for the spotlight, happy to just see other people shine.
Here, Asha had managed to come up with an ideal that she wholeheartedly believed in, but she wasn't trying to be some sort of visionary. She just thought she was on to something pretty comforting, and that maybe other people needed to hear it, too. She didn't want to be responsible for anyone, that shit was scary. Even though it didn't make sense if you took her flavor of nihilism to its logical extreme - if they're all gonna die, why worry if she made a mistake and gets someone else killed, had to stare into their fading eyes as they whispered "I trusted you" if she was lucky enough to have a nightmare ever again - Asha still hated the thought of being responsible for anyone else's pain.
Dorothy's reaction simply confused Asha. Dot said she understood, but she followed that up with the complete antithesis to what Asha meant. Didn't she see that death was exactly how you kept your morals, and believing that you could live was what would cause the greatest amount of grief for yourself and everyone around her? Regardless, it was an answer that she seemed to firmly believe in, and even though it seemed alien, now, Asha respected that.
"That's fine, Dot. I'm not asking anything of you, don't worry. I'll just keep doing my thing and we can still get along, alright? 'Cause, Wayne, there's no real grand, sweeping gestures involved," Asha said, vaguely waving a hand towards the horizon for emphasis. "What it all boils down to is, when we see other people, we're gonna be nice to 'em and have a good time. That's all."
Here, Asha had managed to come up with an ideal that she wholeheartedly believed in, but she wasn't trying to be some sort of visionary. She just thought she was on to something pretty comforting, and that maybe other people needed to hear it, too. She didn't want to be responsible for anyone, that shit was scary. Even though it didn't make sense if you took her flavor of nihilism to its logical extreme - if they're all gonna die, why worry if she made a mistake and gets someone else killed, had to stare into their fading eyes as they whispered "I trusted you" if she was lucky enough to have a nightmare ever again - Asha still hated the thought of being responsible for anyone else's pain.
Dorothy's reaction simply confused Asha. Dot said she understood, but she followed that up with the complete antithesis to what Asha meant. Didn't she see that death was exactly how you kept your morals, and believing that you could live was what would cause the greatest amount of grief for yourself and everyone around her? Regardless, it was an answer that she seemed to firmly believe in, and even though it seemed alien, now, Asha respected that.
"That's fine, Dot. I'm not asking anything of you, don't worry. I'll just keep doing my thing and we can still get along, alright? 'Cause, Wayne, there's no real grand, sweeping gestures involved," Asha said, vaguely waving a hand towards the horizon for emphasis. "What it all boils down to is, when we see other people, we're gonna be nice to 'em and have a good time. That's all."
He could work with that.
Wayne looked back down and ran one of his hands through his bangs. It was a bad habit, one that contributed to his messy hair. Over time in the desert heat, his hair would clump together, eventually mat down with dust, dirt, and sweat if he didn't keep it combed and washed. It was likely to do the same here, and suddenly, he felt an absurd sense of unease that he would probably never shower again. As if that was anywhere near the top of his priorities right now.
"So," he said, "we just walk around and greet people? What's your idea of a good time, anyway?" He shrugged. Casual. "Not talking grand and sweeping, then. Just what you want to do."
It was almost odd to consider what he would do if he bought into Asha's philosophy instead of just saying that he bought into it. Accepting death, giving and getting a chance to be happy. Was he supposed to just... find a basketball court and shoot a few hoops with some deflated basketball by himself? He didn't think that'd help.
No video games here. But those had never really made him happy, either. Getting a good kill-death ratio, learning the rules of a game down to a T, even finishing a good RPG storyline - that was all escapism, triggering whatever the pleasure centers in his brain were called. A short-term solution to a long-term dissatisfaction. Afterwards, he was still himself, and nothing had changed.
Having a good time was easier said than done. For the moment, even as hypothetical as it was, he found himself at a loss.
Wayne looked back down and ran one of his hands through his bangs. It was a bad habit, one that contributed to his messy hair. Over time in the desert heat, his hair would clump together, eventually mat down with dust, dirt, and sweat if he didn't keep it combed and washed. It was likely to do the same here, and suddenly, he felt an absurd sense of unease that he would probably never shower again. As if that was anywhere near the top of his priorities right now.
"So," he said, "we just walk around and greet people? What's your idea of a good time, anyway?" He shrugged. Casual. "Not talking grand and sweeping, then. Just what you want to do."
It was almost odd to consider what he would do if he bought into Asha's philosophy instead of just saying that he bought into it. Accepting death, giving and getting a chance to be happy. Was he supposed to just... find a basketball court and shoot a few hoops with some deflated basketball by himself? He didn't think that'd help.
No video games here. But those had never really made him happy, either. Getting a good kill-death ratio, learning the rules of a game down to a T, even finishing a good RPG storyline - that was all escapism, triggering whatever the pleasure centers in his brain were called. A short-term solution to a long-term dissatisfaction. Afterwards, he was still himself, and nothing had changed.
Having a good time was easier said than done. For the moment, even as hypothetical as it was, he found himself at a loss.
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Dorothy just felt like disappearing, but such luxury isn't possible. She simply thought about swimming in the oceans, going under the waves, seeing the fish doing their little fishy things.
She thought about it, swimming and all of that. Maybe she should have tried to become better at something important like running or fitness. She could have stand a chance to survive. To come back home, see her parents, see everyone - but for all of her classmates - that loved her again.
Yet, she didn't want to go home that way. She didn't want to kill anyone. Somebody could figure out a way to escape or somebody could get them off the island. That's why she didn't want to accept death.
If she accepted death, she accepted killing. She would have to accept the pain, the violence, the sadness that came with it. So instead, she accepted life. Even though somebody could be saying she was lying to herself, or living in denial, Dot believed in life and its promises.
She was stuck in this kill-or-die situation, and she dumbly believed in her own lies. At one point, Asha will die. Brendan will die. Dorothy will die. Even Wayne, who she knew for about 30 minutes, will die. Everyone around her is going to die, yet she believed in life. She believed in a better tomorrow, and she wanted to make sure it could - no, will - happen.
By denying death, she felt a certain serenity. A calmness that once was a tornado raging in her head. With that clearance, she decided to speak up.
"I want to do nice thing, you know? I want to help people here, maybe patch 'em up or hug them. I just want somebody to remember this island had kids on it and we had lives, and we're not some aliens from another world fighting each other."
She stopped and thought about what she said. Asha and Dot were saying the same thing. Or at least, Dorothy was thinking similarly to Asha, just not believing in the same fundamental aspect. Their friendship could survive that.
She thought about it, swimming and all of that. Maybe she should have tried to become better at something important like running or fitness. She could have stand a chance to survive. To come back home, see her parents, see everyone - but for all of her classmates - that loved her again.
Yet, she didn't want to go home that way. She didn't want to kill anyone. Somebody could figure out a way to escape or somebody could get them off the island. That's why she didn't want to accept death.
If she accepted death, she accepted killing. She would have to accept the pain, the violence, the sadness that came with it. So instead, she accepted life. Even though somebody could be saying she was lying to herself, or living in denial, Dot believed in life and its promises.
She was stuck in this kill-or-die situation, and she dumbly believed in her own lies. At one point, Asha will die. Brendan will die. Dorothy will die. Even Wayne, who she knew for about 30 minutes, will die. Everyone around her is going to die, yet she believed in life. She believed in a better tomorrow, and she wanted to make sure it could - no, will - happen.
By denying death, she felt a certain serenity. A calmness that once was a tornado raging in her head. With that clearance, she decided to speak up.
"I want to do nice thing, you know? I want to help people here, maybe patch 'em up or hug them. I just want somebody to remember this island had kids on it and we had lives, and we're not some aliens from another world fighting each other."
She stopped and thought about what she said. Asha and Dot were saying the same thing. Or at least, Dorothy was thinking similarly to Asha, just not believing in the same fundamental aspect. Their friendship could survive that.