Someday.
That was what this all had to be about. Not just taking it one day at a time, but really surviving. Long enough for a rescue, or for some kind of meaningful action against Arthro Taskforce. Escape would be nice. Finding some way to hurt them would have to do, if nothing else. Henry produced the standard-issue compass from his daypack. It gave their heading - north - and he promptly placed it in his bags. Taking a few of the enormous steel shotgun shells and placing them in his pockets, he zipped the bag shut and put it back on.
Better than finding out it doesn't work at the last minute.
Jonah suggested the girls with more experience give them lessons with the firearms. It was actually a really smart suggestion, given that it was more a matter of when than if they'd have to use them. Especially concerning was the thought of others on the island having similar experience to Beryl, similar armaments to the rest of them - and less of a moral center. To say nothing of the faint possibility that they would later have to turn the weapons on the terrorists who'd brought them here, who no doubt vastly outmatched them tactically in every meaningful way. Henry's gaze turned to their surroundings, still pondering what exactly this place used to be.
Work the problem. One at a time.
"Right. I guess that's it, then. We find a decent spot somewhere in the woods, figure these out, and then find our friends." Henry glanced at Darlene, offering a kind look. "...the rest of them, I mean."
The Punt Gun felt secure hanging from his shoulder, though the thought of actually shooting the weapon made him feel no small amount of trepidation. He took hold of the handle, pointing it forward to the treeline. If nothing else it was at least a wildly intimidating looking weapon. It made sense then that he'd have to take the lead. The prospect frightened him, though he knew not to show it.
Forcing a smile, Henry thought back to comfortable nights spent alone with his cat, watching episodes of Star Trek: The Next Generation. Holding onto those memories - that would see him through this. He muttered under his breath as he strode forward into the unknown.
"There is a way out of every box, a solution to every puzzle; it's just a matter of finding it."
((Henry Sparks continued elsewhere))
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MurderWeasel
- Posts: 2566
- Joined: Thu Aug 09, 2018 1:37 am
"Oh, uh, Darlene," Darlene said.
She was probably turning red, because she'd only realized when prompted that she'd neglected to introduce herself. They had asked her before, and she'd been so scared and so focused on other things that she had totally failed to answer! They probably thought that she was rude or stupid. And a liar! Because she was!
This last part was especially obvious because Beryl, who she still didn't trust even one bit, was telling her how to hold her gun better, which was basically by holding it totally differently to how she had been. It didn't make any sense to Darlene. A gun was a gun, and a pretty simple sort of thing in stories, so shouldn't you just hold it and point it and shoot? It was like Abraham had said, with his little rhyme, except when Darlene semi-subtly adjusted her grip to be more like what Beryl said it actually did feel a little bit smoother and more natural. She supposed she could maybe offer just the very smallest piece of trust, but she still was not going to let the revolver out of her hand. Not for Beryl, at least.
Now they were talking about lessons. Darlene was definitely busted. This was why lying was a stupid and bad idea. There were people in school who were cool and clever and slick and could say anything they wanted and everyone would believe them. Darlene was not that sort of person. She always said the wrong thing and got caught out, and now, in this sort of situation, she'd lied about something big that would actually affect all of them, and that could put them in danger, and it was probably going to disappoint Jonah when she had to come clean. She felt like she was standing on the face of the sun, it was so hot. She couldn't just say she'd lied. She couldn't! She had to temper expectations without completely admitting she'd just been making things up. But how?
"We, um, Beryl probably is a better teacher," Darlene mumbled.
Her shoes were a nice dark brown which made it a little harder to see they were dirty, but she could still see some grass stains on them. It was hard to say if they'd been there before this had happened or not, though, because she didn't always take very good care of her shoes. That was why she always ended up with dark-colored ones, and tough ones. She didn't understand how girls could walk around in high heels or those dainty little slippers all the time. When Darlene tried had to wear those for performances or nice pictures she felt like a big fat elephant stomping around destroying everything. She shifted her shoes in the grass, stirring it around and crushing leaves. She tried not to step on bugs normally but she couldn't see any bugs right now so she wasn't going to worry about it.
"...I could probably use a refresher too," she added, very quietly. And then, quieter still: "Sorry."
At least they were getting moving, so she could focus on something else instead of the rest of her group. She didn't have to look at their faces and see the exasperation or disappointment or suspicion that might be there, or, more troublingly, that might not.
((Darlene Silva continued in ][))
She was probably turning red, because she'd only realized when prompted that she'd neglected to introduce herself. They had asked her before, and she'd been so scared and so focused on other things that she had totally failed to answer! They probably thought that she was rude or stupid. And a liar! Because she was!
This last part was especially obvious because Beryl, who she still didn't trust even one bit, was telling her how to hold her gun better, which was basically by holding it totally differently to how she had been. It didn't make any sense to Darlene. A gun was a gun, and a pretty simple sort of thing in stories, so shouldn't you just hold it and point it and shoot? It was like Abraham had said, with his little rhyme, except when Darlene semi-subtly adjusted her grip to be more like what Beryl said it actually did feel a little bit smoother and more natural. She supposed she could maybe offer just the very smallest piece of trust, but she still was not going to let the revolver out of her hand. Not for Beryl, at least.
Now they were talking about lessons. Darlene was definitely busted. This was why lying was a stupid and bad idea. There were people in school who were cool and clever and slick and could say anything they wanted and everyone would believe them. Darlene was not that sort of person. She always said the wrong thing and got caught out, and now, in this sort of situation, she'd lied about something big that would actually affect all of them, and that could put them in danger, and it was probably going to disappoint Jonah when she had to come clean. She felt like she was standing on the face of the sun, it was so hot. She couldn't just say she'd lied. She couldn't! She had to temper expectations without completely admitting she'd just been making things up. But how?
"We, um, Beryl probably is a better teacher," Darlene mumbled.
Her shoes were a nice dark brown which made it a little harder to see they were dirty, but she could still see some grass stains on them. It was hard to say if they'd been there before this had happened or not, though, because she didn't always take very good care of her shoes. That was why she always ended up with dark-colored ones, and tough ones. She didn't understand how girls could walk around in high heels or those dainty little slippers all the time. When Darlene tried had to wear those for performances or nice pictures she felt like a big fat elephant stomping around destroying everything. She shifted her shoes in the grass, stirring it around and crushing leaves. She tried not to step on bugs normally but she couldn't see any bugs right now so she wasn't going to worry about it.
"...I could probably use a refresher too," she added, very quietly. And then, quieter still: "Sorry."
At least they were getting moving, so she could focus on something else instead of the rest of her group. She didn't have to look at their faces and see the exasperation or disappointment or suspicion that might be there, or, more troublingly, that might not.
((Darlene Silva continued in ][))
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Ruggahissy
- Posts: 1593
- Joined: Mon Aug 13, 2018 4:13 pm
Jonah only nodded in reply to Beryl's agreement to hold an impromptu gun class. Henry said something optimistic about figuring out the solution to the puzzle they found themselves in. That was fine for him to do if he wanted to, and it was frankly a good attitude to have. It wasn't the one Jonah had, certainly.
Why is that?
Because I'm the must be the least lucky sap to ever live.
Jonah pulled the necklace out of his pocket and closed his hand around it, feeling its pointed contours, before opening his palm again to look at it.
I just need a little leftover luck, you know?
"Everyone needs a reminder sometimes," he said in response to Darlene, but kept looking at the item in his hand. He looked up and gave a plastic smile and a shrug, putting the necklace on around his neck, keeping his wet souvenir t-shirt on his bag to dry as they headed out and towards the forest.
((Jonah Heartgrave continued in ][ ))
Why is that?
Because I'm the must be the least lucky sap to ever live.
Jonah pulled the necklace out of his pocket and closed his hand around it, feeling its pointed contours, before opening his palm again to look at it.
I just need a little leftover luck, you know?
"Everyone needs a reminder sometimes," he said in response to Darlene, but kept looking at the item in his hand. He looked up and gave a plastic smile and a shrug, putting the necklace on around his neck, keeping his wet souvenir t-shirt on his bag to dry as they headed out and towards the forest.
((Jonah Heartgrave continued in ][ ))
"Agreed," she concluded... Jonah? Jonah's thoughts. She gave them some sort of conclusion, a punctuation mark in her color. A bit too bright, like the swelling sun above them.
Was she a better teacher, anyway? She checked her ring finger, for the first time since she'd woken. Grey wrapped up over a bright orange, digging a slightly pale trench right underneath her knuckle.
She wasn't even a teacher in the first place, probably.
Beryl doubled back to where she'd lost her things, her bags unceremoniously discarded by the set of chairs that had a serious sort of gravitas to them. They were the only features that implied that people had ever truly used this clearly artificial placid pond for anything- cages did not imply life, but perhaps something less than life proper. Beryl contemplated slowly, moved quickly, her gaze lingered while the arrangement of parallel lines of the horizon constantly shifted in the periphery, the illusion that the world was further away than it really was. But no, she was still here, no matter how much she could produce an illusion to the contrary.
She picked up the chainsaw as well. She was attracted to the color, and less to the implication of it's existence. In her minds eye, childish yellow and brackish red did not blend appetizingly. Beryl loved the world painted by a broad palette, and she loved mixing colors. But not those in particular.
She caught up, glancing at everyone and then straight past them, continuing to evaluate the eerily serene beauty of nature.
'There is a way out of every box...'
But until the box opened, who knew what would be alive or not?
[][]
Was she a better teacher, anyway? She checked her ring finger, for the first time since she'd woken. Grey wrapped up over a bright orange, digging a slightly pale trench right underneath her knuckle.
She wasn't even a teacher in the first place, probably.
Beryl doubled back to where she'd lost her things, her bags unceremoniously discarded by the set of chairs that had a serious sort of gravitas to them. They were the only features that implied that people had ever truly used this clearly artificial placid pond for anything- cages did not imply life, but perhaps something less than life proper. Beryl contemplated slowly, moved quickly, her gaze lingered while the arrangement of parallel lines of the horizon constantly shifted in the periphery, the illusion that the world was further away than it really was. But no, she was still here, no matter how much she could produce an illusion to the contrary.
She picked up the chainsaw as well. She was attracted to the color, and less to the implication of it's existence. In her minds eye, childish yellow and brackish red did not blend appetizingly. Beryl loved the world painted by a broad palette, and she loved mixing colors. But not those in particular.
She caught up, glancing at everyone and then straight past them, continuing to evaluate the eerily serene beauty of nature.
'There is a way out of every box...'
But until the box opened, who knew what would be alive or not?
[][]
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