The self-conscious feeling came back as Lucas and his assumed +1 joined the campfire round, too. Self-conscious, but safe from Quinn at least. Her neck hair stood straight at the idea that she was circling them like a lion, biding her time. Observing. Waiting.
Teresa sounded scary from the glossing over Princess divulged. But Katelynne was glad Princess was still here, taking charge and giving her pep talk as always. She always knew what to do, or at least was a good pretender. Confidently wrong was better than self-deprecatingly right, and Katelynne was tired of being the later.
She just nodded her head along, taking a moment to clear her thoughts picked from Princess and Marco and Lucas and throw out all the outstanding noise cluttering her head before speaking up again.
"Yeah, you're right. We have to try. I hate it. I really do. But Quinn, and whoever Blaise is... we gotta stop them. We're defenseless, but I don't wanna sit around twiddling thumbs waiting for them to come kill me or any of y'all. Not again."
She stood up from her roost, brushing the crusted and moist dirt off of her as best she could. And then she gazed at Princess, at Lucas, at Julien some ways away, at Marco, at Princess again. Right in the eyes.
"Let's do it. We gotta do it."
Quinnspiracy Theory
Day 4 evening into night, open but be mindful that plot is happening (oh shit!!!)
"Indeed."
It crossed his mind that perhaps he should fill some blanks in for them about Blaise. But that was something he hoped to make a strictly personal matter, so he made the unwise choice to keep that information to himself, for now at least.
[ Julien Leblanc continued from Wind Parade. ]
Coming out of the treeline was painfully slow going, as everything else had been. And he couldn't even fucking sit down, because he knew that if he did he wouldn't have it in him to get up again at least until tomorrow morning. But the pain was getting too much, and so he had to.
It was good to see Princess and Katelynne still around and mostly intact at least, though... granted, the same couldn't be said about whoever the chucklefuck with them was. He looked like he'd been plucked straight from some apocalyptic LARP and dropped here. But the chainsaw did warrant some respect for what it could do, because it wouldn't matter how goofy he looked when he started swinging it, and he was currently being benign.
Tentative benefit of the doubt it was then.
"There's no ambiguity here at all though, by the way, not outside your own mind. Everyone's going to use whatever kind of logic their brain runs on to convince themselves that they're in the right up until the bitter end. Some will be, some won't be, some will get all that delusion smashed to pieces."
It crossed his mind that perhaps he should fill some blanks in for them about Blaise. But that was something he hoped to make a strictly personal matter, so he made the unwise choice to keep that information to himself, for now at least.
[ Julien Leblanc continued from Wind Parade. ]
Coming out of the treeline was painfully slow going, as everything else had been. And he couldn't even fucking sit down, because he knew that if he did he wouldn't have it in him to get up again at least until tomorrow morning. But the pain was getting too much, and so he had to.
It was good to see Princess and Katelynne still around and mostly intact at least, though... granted, the same couldn't be said about whoever the chucklefuck with them was. He looked like he'd been plucked straight from some apocalyptic LARP and dropped here. But the chainsaw did warrant some respect for what it could do, because it wouldn't matter how goofy he looked when he started swinging it, and he was currently being benign.
Tentative benefit of the doubt it was then.
"There's no ambiguity here at all though, by the way, not outside your own mind. Everyone's going to use whatever kind of logic their brain runs on to convince themselves that they're in the right up until the bitter end. Some will be, some won't be, some will get all that delusion smashed to pieces."
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MethodicalSlacker
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Lucas wasn't ready for the push-back.
Marco gave it to him almost immediately—the good that Lucas claimed was here didn't materialize for him. Princess also missed the point. The good was supposed to be him to be all of them. Lucas was inches away from interrupting her speech a number of times, but managed to sit back and listen as she went through what she had to say. Princess lived her life like a filibuster. Probably rehearsed how to talk to people in the mirror. Lucas sucked, but he didn't suck that bad. He could empathize, though. This, then, was how it felt to run across someone who also wanted to portray themselves as a hero before the cameras. Was Lucas that bad of an actor? Was he acting? She talked like she was reading from a script. She spoke like a character in a story.
She'd make a better hero than him.
Katelynne brought it back around. Latched onto what Princess was saying, which, as it turned out, was basically what Lucas was getting at. That they were the good that was left, that there was good left to begin with, and that the best use for that good was to strike back at evil. Katelynne tossed a few names out, too, but Lucas was only mostly interested in one that was missing from the list. He might well put it forward, then.
"Erika's dangerous too," Lucas said, "I've ran into her a few times. I get the feeling that if someone doesn't stop her soon, she'll just keep on building up steam."
Why he was trying to phrase it so neutrally, he didn't know. All he knew was that the name went better spoken than not.
Marco gave it to him almost immediately—the good that Lucas claimed was here didn't materialize for him. Princess also missed the point. The good was supposed to be him to be all of them. Lucas was inches away from interrupting her speech a number of times, but managed to sit back and listen as she went through what she had to say. Princess lived her life like a filibuster. Probably rehearsed how to talk to people in the mirror. Lucas sucked, but he didn't suck that bad. He could empathize, though. This, then, was how it felt to run across someone who also wanted to portray themselves as a hero before the cameras. Was Lucas that bad of an actor? Was he acting? She talked like she was reading from a script. She spoke like a character in a story.
She'd make a better hero than him.
Katelynne brought it back around. Latched onto what Princess was saying, which, as it turned out, was basically what Lucas was getting at. That they were the good that was left, that there was good left to begin with, and that the best use for that good was to strike back at evil. Katelynne tossed a few names out, too, but Lucas was only mostly interested in one that was missing from the list. He might well put it forward, then.
"Erika's dangerous too," Lucas said, "I've ran into her a few times. I get the feeling that if someone doesn't stop her soon, she'll just keep on building up steam."
Why he was trying to phrase it so neutrally, he didn't know. All he knew was that the name went better spoken than not.
“Thanks.”
Marco dropped his backpack into the dirt at the base of the tree. He pushed his back against the tree and slid down as slowly as he could, hissing as he finally sat down.
He continued to listen to all everyone had to say, how there was good and evil and all that shit. Who were threats to look out for, that they had to do something about all the killing. Curiously, Marco didn’t hear his name, he wondered if it was because he was sitting right there.
Princess mentioned a robbery, how they both had opportunities to kill each other but chose not to. Marco didn’t get that opportunity, and if he did, he’d make a very different choice Princess did.
It quickly occurred to Marco that everyone was playing on the opposite team from him. He realized how easy this situation would be for him. Stand up, cut down Lucas, then Princess and furby gal before they stood up. Closed the distance with Julian before he could limp away.
It’d be easy, sure. Marco didn’t like that though. They barely had any weapons on them, and cutting them all down like that before they had a chance to really commit to anything and do anything was unfair. It wouldn’t be a battle, it would be a slaughter.
He wondered what would happen if he left them. Would someone like Quinn or Blaise fall to them? They didn’t have jack shit on them from the looks of it. If it wasn’t him, it’d be someone else. They were walking to their deaths before they even started.
It was more depressing than it was funny to be honest. He wanted a reason to take them down, he wanted to dodge gunfire, be battered and beaten, struggling to stand as much as they did. He wanted to see them have a chance. It’d be more fun that way.
Marco inhaled, then exhaled. “Alright. Y’all are getting waaaay ahead of yourselves.” Arm chicken winged over his saw, he began drumming his hands on his thighs. “I’m just gonna start with the elephant in the room. You’re all talking about good and evil but, you’re kinda missing the point.” His hand extended the saw into his lap and brushed across the writing on it’s blade, and the rather new set of tallies next to it, now numbering two. “I get you’re wanting to grab the big boys and girls and take them out, but you got a player right here, and I don’t intend to stop any time soon...”
He brought his hand up and motioned for them to hold their thoughts. “I’m not gonna kill you guys, not yet. You haven’t started yet, and I wanna see where you’re all gonna go with this, but I kinda just dealt with a group a lot like you.”
“I’m willing to give advice on the condition that you take it seriously, that you take me seriously. You won’t like what I have to tell you, but it’s the honest truth and it’ll get you far if you listen. If you don’t, those names y’all mentioned will eat you alive.”
He eyed the group.
“Y’all wanna make a deal with The Devil?”
Marco dropped his backpack into the dirt at the base of the tree. He pushed his back against the tree and slid down as slowly as he could, hissing as he finally sat down.
He continued to listen to all everyone had to say, how there was good and evil and all that shit. Who were threats to look out for, that they had to do something about all the killing. Curiously, Marco didn’t hear his name, he wondered if it was because he was sitting right there.
Princess mentioned a robbery, how they both had opportunities to kill each other but chose not to. Marco didn’t get that opportunity, and if he did, he’d make a very different choice Princess did.
It quickly occurred to Marco that everyone was playing on the opposite team from him. He realized how easy this situation would be for him. Stand up, cut down Lucas, then Princess and furby gal before they stood up. Closed the distance with Julian before he could limp away.
It’d be easy, sure. Marco didn’t like that though. They barely had any weapons on them, and cutting them all down like that before they had a chance to really commit to anything and do anything was unfair. It wouldn’t be a battle, it would be a slaughter.
He wondered what would happen if he left them. Would someone like Quinn or Blaise fall to them? They didn’t have jack shit on them from the looks of it. If it wasn’t him, it’d be someone else. They were walking to their deaths before they even started.
It was more depressing than it was funny to be honest. He wanted a reason to take them down, he wanted to dodge gunfire, be battered and beaten, struggling to stand as much as they did. He wanted to see them have a chance. It’d be more fun that way.
Marco inhaled, then exhaled. “Alright. Y’all are getting waaaay ahead of yourselves.” Arm chicken winged over his saw, he began drumming his hands on his thighs. “I’m just gonna start with the elephant in the room. You’re all talking about good and evil but, you’re kinda missing the point.” His hand extended the saw into his lap and brushed across the writing on it’s blade, and the rather new set of tallies next to it, now numbering two. “I get you’re wanting to grab the big boys and girls and take them out, but you got a player right here, and I don’t intend to stop any time soon...”
He brought his hand up and motioned for them to hold their thoughts. “I’m not gonna kill you guys, not yet. You haven’t started yet, and I wanna see where you’re all gonna go with this, but I kinda just dealt with a group a lot like you.”
“I’m willing to give advice on the condition that you take it seriously, that you take me seriously. You won’t like what I have to tell you, but it’s the honest truth and it’ll get you far if you listen. If you don’t, those names y’all mentioned will eat you alive.”
He eyed the group.
“Y’all wanna make a deal with The Devil?”
"Violent." Princess responded simply, those three syllables and a nod, when Julien closed the distance between them. It was getting a bit crowded under the tree, large a shadow as it cast over the ground.
They all had common ground. Justifications. Willingness. Targets. Some dangerous concoction of reasons to claim the moral high ground, by shortcut, two stairs per step at a time. Good to know, at least, that her own crawling from the muck evolution was one shared with the some vanishing fraction of the remainder of the primordial ooze collectively called the graduating class of George Hunter.
She took a moment to appreciate the framing- misanthropic she remained, likely to the bitter end.
"Quinn, Blaise, Erika." She traversed the list with dispassion. "... Apparently, Marco." That last name being close enough to breathe at. A familiar devil- maybe. Demons, traditionally, did not claim their own likeness. Something or another about the Faustian art of deception. "I agree on all counts."
To say that unconditionally refusing to negotiate with a killer was a moral failing was objectively true- by standards Princess was currently prepared to shed. Redefining morality- that was what she had sworn to do. Teresa- lowest of the low- had taught her as much. She, Princess, was insufficient. The bettering of the self was no set path, no rigorous code of laws. Such concepts no longer existed- likely never had, absent the arbitrary presence of governments and expectations.
Princess had never expected to live up to people's expectations anyways. She'd expected more.
"If we take Marco's 'deal', as he puts it, we should all agree to. We're the ones who define our crusade- what is acceptable, what is not." She exhaled the tension in her body, unevenly as she gently shuddered. It was cold under the moon's glare, but not that cold. "If we go down, we go down together. Better way to put it."
They all had common ground. Justifications. Willingness. Targets. Some dangerous concoction of reasons to claim the moral high ground, by shortcut, two stairs per step at a time. Good to know, at least, that her own crawling from the muck evolution was one shared with the some vanishing fraction of the remainder of the primordial ooze collectively called the graduating class of George Hunter.
She took a moment to appreciate the framing- misanthropic she remained, likely to the bitter end.
"Quinn, Blaise, Erika." She traversed the list with dispassion. "... Apparently, Marco." That last name being close enough to breathe at. A familiar devil- maybe. Demons, traditionally, did not claim their own likeness. Something or another about the Faustian art of deception. "I agree on all counts."
To say that unconditionally refusing to negotiate with a killer was a moral failing was objectively true- by standards Princess was currently prepared to shed. Redefining morality- that was what she had sworn to do. Teresa- lowest of the low- had taught her as much. She, Princess, was insufficient. The bettering of the self was no set path, no rigorous code of laws. Such concepts no longer existed- likely never had, absent the arbitrary presence of governments and expectations.
Princess had never expected to live up to people's expectations anyways. She'd expected more.
"If we take Marco's 'deal', as he puts it, we should all agree to. We're the ones who define our crusade- what is acceptable, what is not." She exhaled the tension in her body, unevenly as she gently shuddered. It was cold under the moon's glare, but not that cold. "If we go down, we go down together. Better way to put it."
V8 Vibes:
V7 Vibes:
This talk of good and evil, of being crusaders, of vigilanteism.... no, something about those words felt wrong. Kind of right, yes, but not the full picture. Narrow-minded. Katelynne couldn't explain why though; if she tried, she'd just meander about the semantics. Something kept nagging her in the back of the head, but maybe it was just the gentle breeze.
She just kept her mouth shut and followed along. No one wanted to hear her dumb takes when everyone was agreeing about the means, anyway.
She brushed the stray hairs off her face and clasped her hands together.
"I wanna hear what Marco has to say."
She just kept her mouth shut and followed along. No one wanted to hear her dumb takes when everyone was agreeing about the means, anyway.
She brushed the stray hairs off her face and clasped her hands together.
"I wanna hear what Marco has to say."
The devil, hm? How clichéd.
But all the same... "I find myself curious as well. Alright, then." Julien found something almost amusing in the assumption that he wanted to go far, that it was just playing pretend hero, a grand excuse to vie for being king of the hill while wearing the flayed skin of a decency he wouldn't have any right to lay claim to. He might have even found the insinuation insulting if Marco had ever known him, let alone enough to anything like truly understand him. But he didn't, and so he wouldn't.
He knew how he himself saw it all, and that was that being the hero and staying alive was ultimately a mutually exclusive dichotomy.
There was no valiance in stepping over the corpses of your dearest friends and going the distance, whether you were the one to put them there or not. And while death might not absolve him of his sins, it didn't matter if he wanted no such thing, no?
But all the same... "I find myself curious as well. Alright, then." Julien found something almost amusing in the assumption that he wanted to go far, that it was just playing pretend hero, a grand excuse to vie for being king of the hill while wearing the flayed skin of a decency he wouldn't have any right to lay claim to. He might have even found the insinuation insulting if Marco had ever known him, let alone enough to anything like truly understand him. But he didn't, and so he wouldn't.
He knew how he himself saw it all, and that was that being the hero and staying alive was ultimately a mutually exclusive dichotomy.
There was no valiance in stepping over the corpses of your dearest friends and going the distance, whether you were the one to put them there or not. And while death might not absolve him of his sins, it didn't matter if he wanted no such thing, no?
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MethodicalSlacker
- Posts: 1231
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Lucas really should have been a bit more honest. He did not give a shit about anyone's kills other than Erika. None. Zero. Marco could have killed literally the rest of the island and Lucas would not give two fucks. He only have enough spoons to spare on Erika. Just her, nobody else. He wished, dearly, that he could tell everyone else this. Clear the air, so to speak. He especially hoped that he could tell Marco this, so that Marco didn't kill him later down the line. Like, hey man, don't want to step on your toes, keep on doing what you're doing. Just don't get in the way.
But he couldn't say that around people that he wanted to form a group with. He couldn't risk going against the status quo. Not just yet.
"Yeah, I'll hear you out. Go for it, Devil-Man.
"Tell us what you got."
But he couldn't say that around people that he wanted to form a group with. He couldn't risk going against the status quo. Not just yet.
"Yeah, I'll hear you out. Go for it, Devil-Man.
"Tell us what you got."
Marco was honestly, pleasantly surprised... People were actually taking the time to hear him out!? Holy shit, he was not expecting that at all, okay, cool! Now he just had to figure out what to say, or well, how to word his experiences into something people can actually comprehend instead of rambling on. He hadn’t expected people to actually take him up on his offer.
“Alrighty then-“ Marco reached into Ariana’s bag to grab a bottle of water. “So, real talk. Take everything you know about your friends, your family, home, school, society, rules, all that shit. Take it all, roll it up into the fattest blunt, then smoke that shit away, it’s useless here.” Marco took a sip. It made him realize just how hungry he was. “We ain’t nothing but a bunch of animals following piss poor rules to keep the strong from eating the weak. Now, things are back into the natural swing of things. Humans are animals like any other species, and they carry both prey and predators.” Marco reached into Ariana’s bag, pulling out a loaf of bread. “Now the difference between prey and predators isn’t how strong you are, how smart you are, how fast, how tough... It’s all about a mindset. Whether or not you have an actual fight or flight reflex or not basically.”
Marco took a bite out of the bread, not stopping to swallow before continuing. “Der maim fimg hyeu ham her hake from this is that any action is better than no action. Like someone’s trying to kill you and your buddy, you have to do something. If you freeze up, you’re gonna die, or you’re gonna watch your friends die; and to be honest, if you ask me, if you can’t take action when your friends are in trouble, you have no chance in hell of stopping a killer when your neck is on the line... Just ask Arjen. Did you all a favor getting rid of that waste of carbon.”
Marco took another chomp of the bread, before washing it down with water. “Second thing is you gotta think about why you’re doing this. Like I mean, really think. The real reason you’re doing this is probably a lot different than the reason you’re telling yourself. Like yeah, justice and vengeance is something, but after that, then what? What happens when you keep going once you delivered justice, or when you deviate from the course of vengeance? Sometimes the real reason is much more simple than then what you’d make it out to be. That goes into the question of if you really want to do it or not. If you don’t actually wanna get stuck in, then don’t do it, otherwise you’re gonna chickenshit out and pay for it. Don’t force yourself into something you’re not willing to commit to. You got a one in two hundred percent chance of surviving past this. If you can’t bring yourself to do it, then don’t. Go find a friend and be happy in your last days.”
Marco thought about what would’ve happened if he stayed with Adonis. For a few moments, he was silent. For a few moments, he wondered if he’d have been happier staying with him. He then thought about Colin, and Ariana, and the rush he’d gotten. If he could make his choice again, truthfully, he’d have done it all over again. As bad as it was, there was nothing to be done about it. He was rotten to the core and he wouldn’t change a thing. Marco looked back to the group and smiled.
“Third, when the time comes; fight. Fight like you’re poisoned, like you’re gonna die anyways. Fight to hurt. Fight to get hurt. We all have that reptilian part of our brains, we all have those same desires. Go in like you know you’re gonna lose. Fight to take them with you, and if they take you down, get up and fight some more. Don’t beg, don’t plead, and don’t give up. If you do, they’ll play with you. Don’t give them a reason to. Make them scared of you. Make them lose. Kill them until they die, then kill them some more so they don’t put a bullet in your ass when you think they’re still a corpse.”
Marco nodded. “That last one is really important. Don’t give them a chance to come back. I learned that one the hard way.” That constant ache when he walked and perpetual sharp stab when he sat would be a good reminder. He nommed some more bread then washed it down with water.
“Really though, best thing I can tell you if you choose to do this, is to have fun. Like, if all you’re doing is spending your last days on earth filled with hate and discontent, then what’s the point?” Marco shrugged. “We’re all probably gonna die anyways. Might as well have fun with it while you can, right? Besides, the people you’re hunting are all pieces of shit anyway, nothing’s wrong with a little well earned sadism.”
“Alrighty then-“ Marco reached into Ariana’s bag to grab a bottle of water. “So, real talk. Take everything you know about your friends, your family, home, school, society, rules, all that shit. Take it all, roll it up into the fattest blunt, then smoke that shit away, it’s useless here.” Marco took a sip. It made him realize just how hungry he was. “We ain’t nothing but a bunch of animals following piss poor rules to keep the strong from eating the weak. Now, things are back into the natural swing of things. Humans are animals like any other species, and they carry both prey and predators.” Marco reached into Ariana’s bag, pulling out a loaf of bread. “Now the difference between prey and predators isn’t how strong you are, how smart you are, how fast, how tough... It’s all about a mindset. Whether or not you have an actual fight or flight reflex or not basically.”
Marco took a bite out of the bread, not stopping to swallow before continuing. “Der maim fimg hyeu ham her hake from this is that any action is better than no action. Like someone’s trying to kill you and your buddy, you have to do something. If you freeze up, you’re gonna die, or you’re gonna watch your friends die; and to be honest, if you ask me, if you can’t take action when your friends are in trouble, you have no chance in hell of stopping a killer when your neck is on the line... Just ask Arjen. Did you all a favor getting rid of that waste of carbon.”
Marco took another chomp of the bread, before washing it down with water. “Second thing is you gotta think about why you’re doing this. Like I mean, really think. The real reason you’re doing this is probably a lot different than the reason you’re telling yourself. Like yeah, justice and vengeance is something, but after that, then what? What happens when you keep going once you delivered justice, or when you deviate from the course of vengeance? Sometimes the real reason is much more simple than then what you’d make it out to be. That goes into the question of if you really want to do it or not. If you don’t actually wanna get stuck in, then don’t do it, otherwise you’re gonna chickenshit out and pay for it. Don’t force yourself into something you’re not willing to commit to. You got a one in two hundred percent chance of surviving past this. If you can’t bring yourself to do it, then don’t. Go find a friend and be happy in your last days.”
Marco thought about what would’ve happened if he stayed with Adonis. For a few moments, he was silent. For a few moments, he wondered if he’d have been happier staying with him. He then thought about Colin, and Ariana, and the rush he’d gotten. If he could make his choice again, truthfully, he’d have done it all over again. As bad as it was, there was nothing to be done about it. He was rotten to the core and he wouldn’t change a thing. Marco looked back to the group and smiled.
“Third, when the time comes; fight. Fight like you’re poisoned, like you’re gonna die anyways. Fight to hurt. Fight to get hurt. We all have that reptilian part of our brains, we all have those same desires. Go in like you know you’re gonna lose. Fight to take them with you, and if they take you down, get up and fight some more. Don’t beg, don’t plead, and don’t give up. If you do, they’ll play with you. Don’t give them a reason to. Make them scared of you. Make them lose. Kill them until they die, then kill them some more so they don’t put a bullet in your ass when you think they’re still a corpse.”
Marco nodded. “That last one is really important. Don’t give them a chance to come back. I learned that one the hard way.” That constant ache when he walked and perpetual sharp stab when he sat would be a good reminder. He nommed some more bread then washed it down with water.
“Really though, best thing I can tell you if you choose to do this, is to have fun. Like, if all you’re doing is spending your last days on earth filled with hate and discontent, then what’s the point?” Marco shrugged. “We’re all probably gonna die anyways. Might as well have fun with it while you can, right? Besides, the people you’re hunting are all pieces of shit anyway, nothing’s wrong with a little well earned sadism.”
Princess huddled closer and tighter to her own knees. So for now, they all agreed. A small miracle already- Princess otherwise expected cracks that would need papering over. Differing motivations, petty changes of heart in either direction of 'justice'. Whatever that word meant.
There followed an oddly serene moment of lunchroom pow-wow. Similar to the long-winded exposition phase of her life- the eighteen prior years of clean civilian clothes and black and white morality- she was seated, alone with her own thoughts among the many louder ones of others. Sipping on water only- back then, she'd claim diet when in reality she thoroughly refused to be caught needing the school's free lunch program. She digested more of Marco's words than anything else substantial- she was conscious of the dwindling nature of her supplies, more than was aesthetic.
She waited Marco out. His earnest ranting, his silence, his sincerity anew. So nonchalant his tone, his sparse gestures. He believed in most of what he was saying.
"I'll be honest- I actually agree with most of what you're saying," Princess began, setting the bottle of water she'd barely touched and barely nourished herself off of away. "I don't particularly like primitive cynicism or debauched hedonism, but I will not deny that it is the rule of the land." She paused- calculated, maybe, still hard to tell where her instinctive playing pretend ended and her actual instincts began.
"No one else is responsible- not even those who have wronged us. It's just us."
He'd proudly spelled out what she had brooded on in her own quiet shame. The inevitable collapse of morality. The elevation of the self. The right to choose, to be, the best version of one's self in a setting where 'best' was no longer the north of any compass.
Even, finding a reason to fight for such a future when it would inevitably draw to a many years too soon close.
"Doubt I'll be able to have fun. But I will be able to commit." Good enough, for now. Princess almost let her gaze wander. The sky was infinitely interesting, seeded with the stars so far above the concerns of a call to action. She redirected the slowly sinking into her skull of her gaze back to the others, stubborn as always in holding herself accountable for other's shallow opinions.
There followed an oddly serene moment of lunchroom pow-wow. Similar to the long-winded exposition phase of her life- the eighteen prior years of clean civilian clothes and black and white morality- she was seated, alone with her own thoughts among the many louder ones of others. Sipping on water only- back then, she'd claim diet when in reality she thoroughly refused to be caught needing the school's free lunch program. She digested more of Marco's words than anything else substantial- she was conscious of the dwindling nature of her supplies, more than was aesthetic.
She waited Marco out. His earnest ranting, his silence, his sincerity anew. So nonchalant his tone, his sparse gestures. He believed in most of what he was saying.
"I'll be honest- I actually agree with most of what you're saying," Princess began, setting the bottle of water she'd barely touched and barely nourished herself off of away. "I don't particularly like primitive cynicism or debauched hedonism, but I will not deny that it is the rule of the land." She paused- calculated, maybe, still hard to tell where her instinctive playing pretend ended and her actual instincts began.
"No one else is responsible- not even those who have wronged us. It's just us."
He'd proudly spelled out what she had brooded on in her own quiet shame. The inevitable collapse of morality. The elevation of the self. The right to choose, to be, the best version of one's self in a setting where 'best' was no longer the north of any compass.
Even, finding a reason to fight for such a future when it would inevitably draw to a many years too soon close.
"Doubt I'll be able to have fun. But I will be able to commit." Good enough, for now. Princess almost let her gaze wander. The sky was infinitely interesting, seeded with the stars so far above the concerns of a call to action. She redirected the slowly sinking into her skull of her gaze back to the others, stubborn as always in holding herself accountable for other's shallow opinions.
V8 Vibes:
V7 Vibes:
"There's one big problem there. What you know about life before this fucking shithole won't actively help you in the end, you aren't wrong about that, but it's certainly not useless. The goal of being pre-meditated about killing someone, when you really break it all down, is to either walk away at the end or make sure that somebody else won't, and if you want to walk away you need to keep yourself tethered to some measure of being a normal fucking person and not just go crazy, with bloodlust or not. Hell, if I'm not mistaken someone didn't figure that out before, and winning didn't do him much good since he wound up being shot in the head after he got back."
Julien was laying down now, using his duffel bag to prop himself up a little so he didn't have to crane his neck to look at any of them. He might have fallen asleep to take some relief from the pain by now, if it didn't hurt too much and he hadn't chosen to listen though.
"On the rest though," he said, taking a mouthful of water, "you do have a point. Except the sadism, but that's just one thing. Take Quinn, for example; I have a hard time believing that she won't be fucking butchered like a dead pig by whoever gets the better of her at this point, and that she won't be alive for more of it than anyone would care to. Being near death is terrifying even if you can get over it, and the sooner it's done with the better, however it ends, which is a mercy you won't get given if somebody decides they feel like prescribing you a taste of your own medicine."
He'd had it watching over his shoulder a time or two before, well before this place had conspired to make him aware of its presence, hold on safety slipping and suddenly finding a painfully acute awareness of the emptiness behind him, waiting for him to have no place left to go but down. Julien might have been able to make peace with that fear and move past it, but he could still empathise with anyone who'd kept theirs.
Julien was laying down now, using his duffel bag to prop himself up a little so he didn't have to crane his neck to look at any of them. He might have fallen asleep to take some relief from the pain by now, if it didn't hurt too much and he hadn't chosen to listen though.
"On the rest though," he said, taking a mouthful of water, "you do have a point. Except the sadism, but that's just one thing. Take Quinn, for example; I have a hard time believing that she won't be fucking butchered like a dead pig by whoever gets the better of her at this point, and that she won't be alive for more of it than anyone would care to. Being near death is terrifying even if you can get over it, and the sooner it's done with the better, however it ends, which is a mercy you won't get given if somebody decides they feel like prescribing you a taste of your own medicine."
He'd had it watching over his shoulder a time or two before, well before this place had conspired to make him aware of its presence, hold on safety slipping and suddenly finding a painfully acute awareness of the emptiness behind him, waiting for him to have no place left to go but down. Julien might have been able to make peace with that fear and move past it, but he could still empathise with anyone who'd kept theirs.
Katelynne didn't say anything. Just listened along, trying to follow the big words and high concept commentary thrown around all lackadaisical. It was manageable with Princess; you get used to it, at least. But Julien and Marco to an extent too... maybe she really was just a dumb country bumpkin in over her head.
She didn't say anything until Quinn came up, anyway. Couldn't help it as the same rage of seeing Liberty pinned up like a scarecrow came flooding back.
"Quinn ain't a person. There's no 'getting the better of her', saying stuff like that's how she's managed to kill at least six people and it's barely been half a week. You can't outwit something that ain't human. You can only overpower them."
She folded her arms in, a sudden chill running down her spine or possibly from the wind. Couldn't tell which one it was.
"I ain't doing this for fun. Not for justice either, not fully. But I'll commit. At least until Quinn is stopped once and for all."
She didn't say anything until Quinn came up, anyway. Couldn't help it as the same rage of seeing Liberty pinned up like a scarecrow came flooding back.
"Quinn ain't a person. There's no 'getting the better of her', saying stuff like that's how she's managed to kill at least six people and it's barely been half a week. You can't outwit something that ain't human. You can only overpower them."
She folded her arms in, a sudden chill running down her spine or possibly from the wind. Couldn't tell which one it was.
"I ain't doing this for fun. Not for justice either, not fully. But I'll commit. At least until Quinn is stopped once and for all."
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MethodicalSlacker
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...
Lucas...
Sorta just tuned out halfway through all that.
It wasn't that what Marco was saying wasn't valuable. Quite the opposite. If Lucas had been riding some ideological wave, or pretending like this was all just a lead-up to a rescue, or some crazy person who still believed in God or some kind of afterlife after all that they'd been through. Unlucky for Marco, Lucas wasn't crazy. Maybe he was more than a little stupid at times, but he had his feet planted firmly in reality. Lucas had been living by different rules than anyone for a long time. Social maneuvering took a good bit more effort for him, and through that he learned some things about human nature that he wouldn't have figured out otherwise. High school was already Survival of the Fittest. All the island did was put murder to the metaphor.
Additionally, he had a clear goal. He didn't care about Marco, or frankly about Quinn. Even with Lucas' shitty load-out, he could probably take her in a fair fight. It seemed like her whole M.O. was that she snuck up on people that weren't expecting her. If Lucas came across her in a clearing, all it'd take would be a few swings from the crowbar. Or the Key-blade, if he wanted to. She wasn't too strong without guns and stuff. Again, though, he didn't give two shits about her. His sights were on Erika. She was, roughly, the same as Quinn but better. Reliant on sneaking around her opponents instead of taking them head on. Erika had powerful weaponry too, but in a head on fight, melee only, final destination, Lucas had a shot. Not a very good one, but not a bad one either.
He could throw the crowbar at her. Or the Key-blade. Get a good tomahawk throw in there, maybe. It wasn't something he could count out. The light-saber or Minecraft shit might be useful as a distraction, to throw behind her. Get her to turn around, then come up with the crowbar and practice his golf stroke on her head. Foooooore Desiree! That's what he'd shout. A pun and a statement of vengeance. She'd appreciate it. Why didn't he take the chips from her bag? They were stale by now, and she had probably decayed a bit and he didn't want to see that. Eugh.
And before he knew it, Marco was done talking and everyone else was weighing in. Look at how time flies!
"I think I got my purpose squared," Lucas said. "Had it that way for a couple days. If it wasn't for my purpose, I'd probably have thr—yeeted myself off that waterfall a while ago. But I haven't, and that's because there's someone I need to avenge."
His stomach rumbled. Maybe it was dinner time. Getting out some food would sure disturb the tension, but Lucas didn't want to risk looking any more lackadaisical than he already did.
Lucas...
Sorta just tuned out halfway through all that.
It wasn't that what Marco was saying wasn't valuable. Quite the opposite. If Lucas had been riding some ideological wave, or pretending like this was all just a lead-up to a rescue, or some crazy person who still believed in God or some kind of afterlife after all that they'd been through. Unlucky for Marco, Lucas wasn't crazy. Maybe he was more than a little stupid at times, but he had his feet planted firmly in reality. Lucas had been living by different rules than anyone for a long time. Social maneuvering took a good bit more effort for him, and through that he learned some things about human nature that he wouldn't have figured out otherwise. High school was already Survival of the Fittest. All the island did was put murder to the metaphor.
Additionally, he had a clear goal. He didn't care about Marco, or frankly about Quinn. Even with Lucas' shitty load-out, he could probably take her in a fair fight. It seemed like her whole M.O. was that she snuck up on people that weren't expecting her. If Lucas came across her in a clearing, all it'd take would be a few swings from the crowbar. Or the Key-blade, if he wanted to. She wasn't too strong without guns and stuff. Again, though, he didn't give two shits about her. His sights were on Erika. She was, roughly, the same as Quinn but better. Reliant on sneaking around her opponents instead of taking them head on. Erika had powerful weaponry too, but in a head on fight, melee only, final destination, Lucas had a shot. Not a very good one, but not a bad one either.
He could throw the crowbar at her. Or the Key-blade. Get a good tomahawk throw in there, maybe. It wasn't something he could count out. The light-saber or Minecraft shit might be useful as a distraction, to throw behind her. Get her to turn around, then come up with the crowbar and practice his golf stroke on her head. Foooooore Desiree! That's what he'd shout. A pun and a statement of vengeance. She'd appreciate it. Why didn't he take the chips from her bag? They were stale by now, and she had probably decayed a bit and he didn't want to see that. Eugh.
And before he knew it, Marco was done talking and everyone else was weighing in. Look at how time flies!
"I think I got my purpose squared," Lucas said. "Had it that way for a couple days. If it wasn't for my purpose, I'd probably have thr—yeeted myself off that waterfall a while ago. But I haven't, and that's because there's someone I need to avenge."
His stomach rumbled. Maybe it was dinner time. Getting out some food would sure disturb the tension, but Lucas didn't want to risk looking any more lackadaisical than he already did.
Marco gave his thoughts out. He got thoughts back. It wasn’t what he was expecting, either. He was expecting everyone to go all up in arms ready to cut him down for even thinking such dirty things, but no. They replied back, they gave thoughts back. Agreements and disagreements. Intelligent conversation. Actual philosophical points of view were spoken and were received.
Princess caught Marco’s attention with a simple sentence. That nobody was responsible for your actions except yourself. Marco thought about Willow and Sierra. Adonis and Catherine. Colin and Arjen. Marco didn’t choose to get blinded and robbed, sure. He chose to turn down Adonis’ offer. He chose to hunt Arjen down. He chose to maim Colin, to kill Ariana. He didn’t choose to get shot in the ass, but that was a consequence of his choice, as everything he did started as a consequence of Sierra and Willow.
In the end though, it was all his choice. A choice he’d make every single time were he in some groundhogs day time loop. That simple sentence added a new light to everything. Physically it wouldn’t change much. If he saw Sierra and Willow again he’d still kill them; death and dishonor and all that, but it wouldn’t be AS personal.
He listened to Julian talking about that one shitbird who won by killing a bunch of people before he got iced back home. How people could return the favor to him based on what he did. Good. He hoped people would try. He wanted people who wouldn’t pussyfoot around when it comes to the big end. All he wants is for someone to fight back when he takes them out, hell if they put on a good show like Colin, he would even let them go (minus a digit or two for motivation) so they could come and try again later. Hell if someone fights back hard enough to kill him, good on them!
Katelynne did a damn good job of hyping Quinn up though. ‘Not a human,’ ‘overpower them,’ that she was gonna stop Quinn once and for all. Hellfire, that is some motivation right there! That amount of hate one can feel for a person, FUCK! She’s got potential, she really does. That wasn’t just shit talk, that was raw emotion. Marco wished he could have a rival that hated him like that. Shit, he wanted to kill Quinn so badly because of the numbers and that little post modernism on the boat, but now it just feels unfair to deny the furby lady that right. Marco couldn’t help but smile widely at that.
Lucas mentioned that he had a reason. It was a reason that kept him alive. He had a friend who died. Someone to be avenged. Truth be told, Marco had the least hope for Lucas. Sure nothing fought harder than a man with nothing to lose, ask Mad Max, but at the same time even if he succeeds, then what? Kills himself right there, or dawdles on with no meaning until someone does it for him? Marco didn’t have that high of hopes for him, but who knows? He might surprise him.
Marco leaned back, and ate some more bread, drank some more water. He swallowed. “Good shit, good shit.” He looked at his saw for a second then back to the group. For the most part, they were everything the last people he ran into weren’t. They weren’t starting shit they couldn’t finish, they weren’t pretending to be something they’re not, they weren’t fucking around, and mostly, they weren’t a bunch of pussies. They’d make an impact. Marco smiled again. “That’s some motivating shit right there! People who still give a damn, motherfuck! Ain’t nothing like the last group of bumblesluts... Y’all must’ve seen some shit. Makes me curious honestly.”
“If you don’t mind me asking, what motivates you guys? What’d all of you go through to come to this? I’ll tell y’all what happened to me if you want.”
Princess caught Marco’s attention with a simple sentence. That nobody was responsible for your actions except yourself. Marco thought about Willow and Sierra. Adonis and Catherine. Colin and Arjen. Marco didn’t choose to get blinded and robbed, sure. He chose to turn down Adonis’ offer. He chose to hunt Arjen down. He chose to maim Colin, to kill Ariana. He didn’t choose to get shot in the ass, but that was a consequence of his choice, as everything he did started as a consequence of Sierra and Willow.
In the end though, it was all his choice. A choice he’d make every single time were he in some groundhogs day time loop. That simple sentence added a new light to everything. Physically it wouldn’t change much. If he saw Sierra and Willow again he’d still kill them; death and dishonor and all that, but it wouldn’t be AS personal.
He listened to Julian talking about that one shitbird who won by killing a bunch of people before he got iced back home. How people could return the favor to him based on what he did. Good. He hoped people would try. He wanted people who wouldn’t pussyfoot around when it comes to the big end. All he wants is for someone to fight back when he takes them out, hell if they put on a good show like Colin, he would even let them go (minus a digit or two for motivation) so they could come and try again later. Hell if someone fights back hard enough to kill him, good on them!
Katelynne did a damn good job of hyping Quinn up though. ‘Not a human,’ ‘overpower them,’ that she was gonna stop Quinn once and for all. Hellfire, that is some motivation right there! That amount of hate one can feel for a person, FUCK! She’s got potential, she really does. That wasn’t just shit talk, that was raw emotion. Marco wished he could have a rival that hated him like that. Shit, he wanted to kill Quinn so badly because of the numbers and that little post modernism on the boat, but now it just feels unfair to deny the furby lady that right. Marco couldn’t help but smile widely at that.
Lucas mentioned that he had a reason. It was a reason that kept him alive. He had a friend who died. Someone to be avenged. Truth be told, Marco had the least hope for Lucas. Sure nothing fought harder than a man with nothing to lose, ask Mad Max, but at the same time even if he succeeds, then what? Kills himself right there, or dawdles on with no meaning until someone does it for him? Marco didn’t have that high of hopes for him, but who knows? He might surprise him.
Marco leaned back, and ate some more bread, drank some more water. He swallowed. “Good shit, good shit.” He looked at his saw for a second then back to the group. For the most part, they were everything the last people he ran into weren’t. They weren’t starting shit they couldn’t finish, they weren’t pretending to be something they’re not, they weren’t fucking around, and mostly, they weren’t a bunch of pussies. They’d make an impact. Marco smiled again. “That’s some motivating shit right there! People who still give a damn, motherfuck! Ain’t nothing like the last group of bumblesluts... Y’all must’ve seen some shit. Makes me curious honestly.”
“If you don’t mind me asking, what motivates you guys? What’d all of you go through to come to this? I’ll tell y’all what happened to me if you want.”
The ability to walk away- Julien's point. If there was anything Princess was still sure of, it was at least that. She was too proud to drink bloodlust in any way besides reluctant. So she thought. Hard to be sure. Princess watched him recline a moment more, then looked away. His words lingered, stronger than his countenance swam in her thoughts, a miasma of some sort.
Then, Kate. Her centerpiece drawl, cute as it was annoyingly underselling her deceptive depth of character. There was an odd affect to her declaration. In some context it could have been straight face satire- the farm girl declaring another life forfeit and beyond. Did that make it all the more arresting, shocking, the dichotomy? If this were a cold read with the other Drama kids Princess would have nitpicked the delivery- too subtle, too difficult to translate to the audience at large. Too human, maybe that was the right word. Princess' comfortable realm of stagecraft was larger than life, and this back-and-forth was somehow lesser, and all the more intimately horrific for it.
Princess leaned onto Kate's shoulder. Her weight would be a familiar presence, if maybe no longer so much of a comforting one.
Lucas visibly tuning out, making googly eyes with the horizon, that underscored the odd normalcy all the more. A perfectly ordinary scene of classmates swearing to hack apart their peers on grounds of supposed justice. The casual overture to suicide all the more so appropriate to their age cohort.
They all claimed their stake, made their stand. That seemed to earn Marco's approval, whatever that was actually worth. She judged his appearance at least, and his demeanor all the more. But he was being fair to them. He'd earned an earnest attempt at her good faith.
"My motivation," Princess murmured, voice slightly muffled with her cheek caved in by Kate's shoulder. It was a question without the tone. Without the answer. "I really wish I could straightforwardly say, these murderers have hurt my friends hearts. Or that they have some fundamental moral failing. I understand all of that on an intellectual level. Violet's gone because of Quinn- I should have skin in the game, so on."
Princess slowly ground her face across Kate's sleeve. Eyes buried against her flesh, hidden. Princess' breath shallow, her tone weak like tears yet to cry. Princess felt the tremor of arrhythmia taking over her heart, the stab of pain draining away blood pressure until she swore she'd faint. But she wasn't actually crying. Could still have all been fake- performative, solely for the benefit of how she appeared to be, to the others.
"Don't even know if I actually loved her. I can't tell. Scares me. Maybe that's the real motivation." She peeled herself from Kate with a heaviness to the droop in her spine. Curls damp, burying her eyes still. "Like you said, Marco. This island changes us by force. Makes the motivation different. Who I used to be is no longer enough. I've been stripped of my armor and I'm weak, pretending to be strong. But I don't get to cling to that as an excuse."
Then, Kate. Her centerpiece drawl, cute as it was annoyingly underselling her deceptive depth of character. There was an odd affect to her declaration. In some context it could have been straight face satire- the farm girl declaring another life forfeit and beyond. Did that make it all the more arresting, shocking, the dichotomy? If this were a cold read with the other Drama kids Princess would have nitpicked the delivery- too subtle, too difficult to translate to the audience at large. Too human, maybe that was the right word. Princess' comfortable realm of stagecraft was larger than life, and this back-and-forth was somehow lesser, and all the more intimately horrific for it.
Princess leaned onto Kate's shoulder. Her weight would be a familiar presence, if maybe no longer so much of a comforting one.
Lucas visibly tuning out, making googly eyes with the horizon, that underscored the odd normalcy all the more. A perfectly ordinary scene of classmates swearing to hack apart their peers on grounds of supposed justice. The casual overture to suicide all the more so appropriate to their age cohort.
They all claimed their stake, made their stand. That seemed to earn Marco's approval, whatever that was actually worth. She judged his appearance at least, and his demeanor all the more. But he was being fair to them. He'd earned an earnest attempt at her good faith.
"My motivation," Princess murmured, voice slightly muffled with her cheek caved in by Kate's shoulder. It was a question without the tone. Without the answer. "I really wish I could straightforwardly say, these murderers have hurt my friends hearts. Or that they have some fundamental moral failing. I understand all of that on an intellectual level. Violet's gone because of Quinn- I should have skin in the game, so on."
Princess slowly ground her face across Kate's sleeve. Eyes buried against her flesh, hidden. Princess' breath shallow, her tone weak like tears yet to cry. Princess felt the tremor of arrhythmia taking over her heart, the stab of pain draining away blood pressure until she swore she'd faint. But she wasn't actually crying. Could still have all been fake- performative, solely for the benefit of how she appeared to be, to the others.
"Don't even know if I actually loved her. I can't tell. Scares me. Maybe that's the real motivation." She peeled herself from Kate with a heaviness to the droop in her spine. Curls damp, burying her eyes still. "Like you said, Marco. This island changes us by force. Makes the motivation different. Who I used to be is no longer enough. I've been stripped of my armor and I'm weak, pretending to be strong. But I don't get to cling to that as an excuse."
V8 Vibes:
V7 Vibes: