Just throw the body in the ocean, like it was fish food. On the one hand, leaving it to be eaten by the fish seemed a bit of a lazy way to bury the body. Of course, it wasn't like there was going to be anyone else for the next while, so it was either leave it for the worms, or give Chris some type of send off. Stephanie just stood up, shakily.
"Sure. That seems, good." Stephanie picked up the other bag by Chris and slung it around her shoulders before grabbing the body's wrists and slowly dragging the body to the edge of the pier.
before the day is done, my prince is gonna come
Day 1, Afternoon. private unless you have a real good reason to be here
Survivor: UCONN - Seriously, it's awesome!
Version 8
Kaede Tsurumi: "Eeep! I-I'm so sorry! I-I'll try not to get in your w-way next time!"
Morgan Whitney
Tyler Slomkowski
Victor Grail: "I didn't give you the lead so that you could lose it! I guess it's up to me to carry us after all."
Version 8
Kaede Tsurumi: "Eeep! I-I'm so sorry! I-I'll try not to get in your w-way next time!"
Morgan Whitney
Tyler Slomkowski
Victor Grail: "I didn't give you the lead so that you could lose it! I guess it's up to me to carry us after all."
Diego's lips turned downwards as Stephanie got the bag. It wasn't like Chris would be able to use it, really, but robbing the dead felt disrespectful. Wrong. Especially as they were trying to honor Chris' memory somehow. It felt like laughing at a funeral.
The ocean continued clapping in the background. What it was clapping at, for, Diego could no longer say.
There was also a part of him saying he should have thought of it first.
He shook his head and headed towards the edge, near Chris. He walked with an unsteadiness in each step, his blood-soaked soles at first sticking to the wood, refusing to let go for a millisecond, and then, as he got closer to her, gliding an inch or two, frictionless, unsure of where to stop. He ended up right next to Chris, where he lowered himself. The smell of copper was pervasive at this point, and it, combined with the oppressive heat, made him want to throw up again, but he stayed still.
Laying his hands on the side of her torso, he felt nothing. A lack of give. All of Chris' energy, determination, spilled out on the floor. There was still a warmth, but he couldn't tell anymore if it was from her or from the heat of the air around them. Everything about this felt wrong, but the lack of give, the lack of resistance from someone like Chris, from someone who had shown so much fight, effort, just a few minutes ago, it chilled him despite the sun beating down above.
He was supposed to say something. They were supposed to be honoring Chris' memory, supposed to somehow ameliorate what had just happened, but he had never been to a funeral. He had read of them, watched them on TV, but he had never been to one. His family, in fact, had never been to one, because it was just he, his sister, and his mom in this country. His funeral would be the first they go to.
What was he supposed to say for Chris, anyways? That was easier. But his mind still ran blank. He had spent so much time around her, yet in the end, he couldn't say anything for her, even now. She fought against bullies—she's too clammy—so maybe he could say something about her fighting spirit, or maybe—there's no give—she liked MMA, DnD, but those were just initials to him—this feels wrong—so what could he really say about her? Did he ever really know her?—he started to tremble, his hands still against her side, he shook, she gave no response—She was one of the people he was closest to in school, yet in the end, she was just a friendlier face in the crowd—I wanna be rid of it.
Diego pushed Chris into the ocean, and she splashed unceremoniously. That was all he needed to hear. He stilled. He didn't look below.
Turning instead to Stephanie, slowly, he asked, "Did you, uh, want to say something to her?"
The ocean continued clapping in the background. What it was clapping at, for, Diego could no longer say.
There was also a part of him saying he should have thought of it first.
He shook his head and headed towards the edge, near Chris. He walked with an unsteadiness in each step, his blood-soaked soles at first sticking to the wood, refusing to let go for a millisecond, and then, as he got closer to her, gliding an inch or two, frictionless, unsure of where to stop. He ended up right next to Chris, where he lowered himself. The smell of copper was pervasive at this point, and it, combined with the oppressive heat, made him want to throw up again, but he stayed still.
Laying his hands on the side of her torso, he felt nothing. A lack of give. All of Chris' energy, determination, spilled out on the floor. There was still a warmth, but he couldn't tell anymore if it was from her or from the heat of the air around them. Everything about this felt wrong, but the lack of give, the lack of resistance from someone like Chris, from someone who had shown so much fight, effort, just a few minutes ago, it chilled him despite the sun beating down above.
He was supposed to say something. They were supposed to be honoring Chris' memory, supposed to somehow ameliorate what had just happened, but he had never been to a funeral. He had read of them, watched them on TV, but he had never been to one. His family, in fact, had never been to one, because it was just he, his sister, and his mom in this country. His funeral would be the first they go to.
What was he supposed to say for Chris, anyways? That was easier. But his mind still ran blank. He had spent so much time around her, yet in the end, he couldn't say anything for her, even now. She fought against bullies—she's too clammy—so maybe he could say something about her fighting spirit, or maybe—there's no give—she liked MMA, DnD, but those were just initials to him—this feels wrong—so what could he really say about her? Did he ever really know her?—he started to tremble, his hands still against her side, he shook, she gave no response—She was one of the people he was closest to in school, yet in the end, she was just a friendlier face in the crowd—I wanna be rid of it.
Diego pushed Chris into the ocean, and she splashed unceremoniously. That was all he needed to hear. He stilled. He didn't look below.
Turning instead to Stephanie, slowly, he asked, "Did you, uh, want to say something to her?"
The body just dropped down. One splash and she sank like a lead weight. No struggle, no other splashing as if were a prank. Just plop. As for anything to say ...
"I don't know ... I just want to get out of here. I'm sorry."
((Stephanie McDonald continued in Gimme, Gimme Shelter, or I'm Gonna Fade Away))
"I don't know ... I just want to get out of here. I'm sorry."
((Stephanie McDonald continued in Gimme, Gimme Shelter, or I'm Gonna Fade Away))
Survivor: UCONN - Seriously, it's awesome!
Version 8
Kaede Tsurumi: "Eeep! I-I'm so sorry! I-I'll try not to get in your w-way next time!"
Morgan Whitney
Tyler Slomkowski
Victor Grail: "I didn't give you the lead so that you could lose it! I guess it's up to me to carry us after all."
Version 8
Kaede Tsurumi: "Eeep! I-I'm so sorry! I-I'll try not to get in your w-way next time!"
Morgan Whitney
Tyler Slomkowski
Victor Grail: "I didn't give you the lead so that you could lose it! I guess it's up to me to carry us after all."
"OK."
They were supposed to do more. Funerals weren't supposed to end so abruptly. But nothing had gone right this morning, and the act by itself was more than nothing, more than the others had done for her. Maybe Chris would appreciate it regardless, if he decided to believe in such things.
So, Diego walked away from the pier, looking behind to see Stephanie following in silence. He jerked his head away, forced it stay focused on where he was heading, directly away from the pier. If he looked at the pier any longer, then he would be compelled to look down at the ocean, at Chris' body bobbing among the waves, and he had seen enough for the rest of his life.
It pulled at him, the ocean, the same way it did when he had been under the beach deck, but it did so this time with a malevolence, asking him to join Chris. Clapping, mocking, asking him if he too wanted to lay claim to the title of king or strongest man in the world. Diego had never had such confidence or belief in himself, so he said no, and he walked faster away from the pier, heading to the inland.
((Diego Larrosa continues in How Far I'll Go))
They were supposed to do more. Funerals weren't supposed to end so abruptly. But nothing had gone right this morning, and the act by itself was more than nothing, more than the others had done for her. Maybe Chris would appreciate it regardless, if he decided to believe in such things.
So, Diego walked away from the pier, looking behind to see Stephanie following in silence. He jerked his head away, forced it stay focused on where he was heading, directly away from the pier. If he looked at the pier any longer, then he would be compelled to look down at the ocean, at Chris' body bobbing among the waves, and he had seen enough for the rest of his life.
It pulled at him, the ocean, the same way it did when he had been under the beach deck, but it did so this time with a malevolence, asking him to join Chris. Clapping, mocking, asking him if he too wanted to lay claim to the title of king or strongest man in the world. Diego had never had such confidence or belief in himself, so he said no, and he walked faster away from the pier, heading to the inland.
((Diego Larrosa continues in How Far I'll Go))