((Nate continued from Wising Up))
Nate gently laid the instruction manual for her gun down on the grass. It had been a complicated read, quite honestly, and a lot of it she wasn't entirely sure she understood. The basics seemed to have sunk in, the safety (important) and firing (hopefully less important) and loading it - but some of the information was just... well, Nate certainly wasn't going to be able to put it to use. She sure hoped the gun didn't jam or anything, because there was no way in hell she'd be able to pore over those diagrams in the middle of a fight.
A fight... Nate shivered. She didn't want to get into any fights. But her average for the day wasn't exactly going so well, was it? She'd been shot at, drugged and beaten up, then somebody had tried to sneak up on her. It most definitely wasn't looking up for the pacifists. Nate ... wasn't a pacifist, but that didn't mean the idea of pointing her gun at anybody sat well with her. She was a painter, she didn't belong here... Nate was tired and too hot in these stupid clothes and all parched because she'd had nothing to drink all day and her neck and her thigh were throbbing and she could feel the scratches on her back and...
Urgh.
Nate knuckled her eyes, fiercely dashing away the tears that were threatening to spill.
She sat down next to her instruction manual, laid the rifle across her knees and grabbed her hair in both hands.
Can't do this...
Horizon
Absolutely open
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whisperinwater*
- Posts: 5
- Joined: Tue Aug 14, 2018 9:50 pm
((Michael Marshall Starts Here))
At first, Michael Marshall (DESIGNATED GRY4) had thought it was all a dream. It had certainly played out like one. The men came in, announced his name, and suddenly he was being taken from the classroom, feeling cold metal on the back of his head, someone was talking to him, there was a faintly smokey smell, then darkness, then, more instructions, the wind from a helicopter's propeller knocking the air from his lungs, more cold metal around his neck this time. It was all so sudden, such a blur, that it couldn't have been real. He couldn't be here, forced to stake his life on national television, just because some guy called his name off of a list. Real life didn't work that way, did it? The odds of him being chosen were one in millions. It couldn't have really been happening. Christ, it sounded like something he'd written in middle school. He must have still been dreaming.
That certainly explained the fencing mask at the top of his bag. He'd put it on for the hell of it. He tied the grey bandanna around his wrist, too. Can't forget that one, that was how things worked on the show, wasn’t it. Ah, and there was a fencing foil in there, too. That must have been the rest of the uniform at the bottom of the bag, under some food. No need to put that on, too warm. Zipping the bag back up and slinging it over his shoulder, Michael began to walk.
He had to be dreaming. Look at him, wandering around in the middle of nowhere with this stupid mask on. He didn't even know what he was looking for. And he'd barely run into anybody. This island was supposed to be full of people, right? He hadn’t seen anyone for what felt like hours. The sun was slowly rising, making its way across the sky. That happened in dreams, right? Did they usually last this long? It probably wouldn't seem so long when he finally woke up.
Right? Right?
It was almost noon when Michael finally started to consider the ramifications of what was happening if he wasn't dreaming. He sat down on a rock in the middle of a field. Had he been walking this whole time or did he wake up near here? Whatever, okay. Well. If he wasn't dreaming. That meant he was probably going to die. It meant that that yes, that definitely was gunfire he had heard in the distance earlier. It meant he'd never see his family again if he didn't murder someone. It meant that everyone else on this island with him was out to see him dead. Except for his teammates, assuming they didn't consider him too useless to live. It meant the collar around his neck could kill him. It meant anything could kill him. He would have to face death. He would have to make peace with dying or killing, more likely both.
That was only if he wasn't dreaming, of course.
Michael nearly jumped from his seat as a voice suddenly blared from who-even-knew-where, the fencing mask over his face tilting to one side. As what he now recognized as the first announcement continued, however, he sat absolutely still. He could only barely compute what was being said, (Because this was a dream? Right?) it all just sounded like it was coming from the other side of a brick wall. It melded together into a single dull drone that continued long after the actual announcement had ended.
He didn't understand it. He couldn't believe it. He would not fucking believe it.
Michael wasn't sure how long he sat on that rock, fencing mask still covering his face, ignoring the pangs of his stomach, barely moving, just willing himself to finally wake up. He didn't know how long the girl had been there before he noticed her, either. But when he turned around on a whim, there she was, sitting a few yards away with what looked like a very large gun lying on the ground in front of her. She didn't seem to have noticed him either, she wasn’t facing him. Instinctively, Michael hopped off the rock he was perched on and crouched down in the grass. Did she notice that? Shit. Hopefully not. Had she been there the whole time? Apparently there were other people around after all. Didn't mean he still might not be dreaming, though. He'd just watch what she did for a while to make sure. Maybe she'd just fly away or something, that would definitely prove he was dreaming. He just couldn't let her see him. If she saw him, he was dead.
At first, Michael Marshall (DESIGNATED GRY4) had thought it was all a dream. It had certainly played out like one. The men came in, announced his name, and suddenly he was being taken from the classroom, feeling cold metal on the back of his head, someone was talking to him, there was a faintly smokey smell, then darkness, then, more instructions, the wind from a helicopter's propeller knocking the air from his lungs, more cold metal around his neck this time. It was all so sudden, such a blur, that it couldn't have been real. He couldn't be here, forced to stake his life on national television, just because some guy called his name off of a list. Real life didn't work that way, did it? The odds of him being chosen were one in millions. It couldn't have really been happening. Christ, it sounded like something he'd written in middle school. He must have still been dreaming.
That certainly explained the fencing mask at the top of his bag. He'd put it on for the hell of it. He tied the grey bandanna around his wrist, too. Can't forget that one, that was how things worked on the show, wasn’t it. Ah, and there was a fencing foil in there, too. That must have been the rest of the uniform at the bottom of the bag, under some food. No need to put that on, too warm. Zipping the bag back up and slinging it over his shoulder, Michael began to walk.
He had to be dreaming. Look at him, wandering around in the middle of nowhere with this stupid mask on. He didn't even know what he was looking for. And he'd barely run into anybody. This island was supposed to be full of people, right? He hadn’t seen anyone for what felt like hours. The sun was slowly rising, making its way across the sky. That happened in dreams, right? Did they usually last this long? It probably wouldn't seem so long when he finally woke up.
Right? Right?
It was almost noon when Michael finally started to consider the ramifications of what was happening if he wasn't dreaming. He sat down on a rock in the middle of a field. Had he been walking this whole time or did he wake up near here? Whatever, okay. Well. If he wasn't dreaming. That meant he was probably going to die. It meant that that yes, that definitely was gunfire he had heard in the distance earlier. It meant he'd never see his family again if he didn't murder someone. It meant that everyone else on this island with him was out to see him dead. Except for his teammates, assuming they didn't consider him too useless to live. It meant the collar around his neck could kill him. It meant anything could kill him. He would have to face death. He would have to make peace with dying or killing, more likely both.
That was only if he wasn't dreaming, of course.
Michael nearly jumped from his seat as a voice suddenly blared from who-even-knew-where, the fencing mask over his face tilting to one side. As what he now recognized as the first announcement continued, however, he sat absolutely still. He could only barely compute what was being said, (Because this was a dream? Right?) it all just sounded like it was coming from the other side of a brick wall. It melded together into a single dull drone that continued long after the actual announcement had ended.
He didn't understand it. He couldn't believe it. He would not fucking believe it.
Michael wasn't sure how long he sat on that rock, fencing mask still covering his face, ignoring the pangs of his stomach, barely moving, just willing himself to finally wake up. He didn't know how long the girl had been there before he noticed her, either. But when he turned around on a whim, there she was, sitting a few yards away with what looked like a very large gun lying on the ground in front of her. She didn't seem to have noticed him either, she wasn’t facing him. Instinctively, Michael hopped off the rock he was perched on and crouched down in the grass. Did she notice that? Shit. Hopefully not. Had she been there the whole time? Apparently there were other people around after all. Didn't mean he still might not be dreaming, though. He'd just watch what she did for a while to make sure. Maybe she'd just fly away or something, that would definitely prove he was dreaming. He just couldn't let her see him. If she saw him, he was dead.
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Nate sat there silently for some time, fingers knotted in her hair, rocking back and forth.
Then the announcement broke her reverie, and Nate started to shiver in place. Although she'd never really thought about the whole 'team' stuff before that point, to hear that she was all but on her own already... More than that, though. The names she heard, familiar, some of them - even if she had only heard them in passing. People were dying, and she was just sitting around.
Well, not so true. Nate had almost been killed once, and beaten up another time. She couldn't be blamed for not trusting people, right? She didn't even know most of them, and that included the kids from her own school. By name, maybe, sometimes even by face, but not by personality. Nate was too much of a recluse for that. Her company was her art, her music.
She felt like neither drawing nor singing.
There was a rustling sound from nearby, and Nate's heart leapt into her throat. She snatched up the sniper rifle, jumped into a crouching position and swung around.
"Who's there!?"
Then the announcement broke her reverie, and Nate started to shiver in place. Although she'd never really thought about the whole 'team' stuff before that point, to hear that she was all but on her own already... More than that, though. The names she heard, familiar, some of them - even if she had only heard them in passing. People were dying, and she was just sitting around.
Well, not so true. Nate had almost been killed once, and beaten up another time. She couldn't be blamed for not trusting people, right? She didn't even know most of them, and that included the kids from her own school. By name, maybe, sometimes even by face, but not by personality. Nate was too much of a recluse for that. Her company was her art, her music.
She felt like neither drawing nor singing.
There was a rustling sound from nearby, and Nate's heart leapt into her throat. She snatched up the sniper rifle, jumped into a crouching position and swung around.
"Who's there!?"
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whisperinwater*
- Posts: 5
- Joined: Tue Aug 14, 2018 9:50 pm
"Who's there?"
Fuck, she definitely did just see him. Michael's breathing quickened, and hot air blew against his mask, causing him to sweat. Wearing that thing was quickly becoming unbearable, but he couldn't take if off. Having something, even just a thin layer of metal between his face and the rest of the world made him feel just slightly more secure, and right now he needed all the security he could get. He peeked his head above the grass just enough to get a slightly better look at what was happening. Yes, that was deinitely a rifle. It wasn't pointed directly at him, she was a bit off, but the fact that she had a fucking gigantic rifle in the first place was still pretty terrifying.
Was she also wearing a spiked collar and a mini skirt?
He finally managed to slow his breath a bit. This entire situation was patently ridiculous. Here he was, crouched in the grass in the middle of a huge field he'd never seen before, convinced that some arbitrary object he was wearing was important to his survival as a girl with a huge gun and tiny outfit threatened him with death. It was completely surreal, and it sealed in his mind that he had to be dreaming. Maybe it was unnaturally long, but Michael did have bizarre sleeping habits to begin with anyway. He'd probably just passed out in class after those two all-nighters.
The only question now was what to do next. Being menaced with guns was actually a pretty common theme in Michael's nightmares, probably due to the horror stories he liked to read. Normally he would just wake up when whatever enemy menacing him fired, but once in a while they'd simply hit him in a non-fatal place and the dream continued anyway. He wondered which one would be the case now.
He stood up. The tall grass now out of his vision, Michael was able to get a better look at his attacker. In fact, he kind of recognized her. What was her name? He'd seen her in school before, but they had never talked - most of the other students at Silver Dragon didn't talk to him very much. He was pretty sure her name was Rachel, maybe? She looked like a Rachel. Rachel was a good name for small girls. And this girl really was tiny, he'd never seen anybody so skinny. Her pale fingers were only barely long enough to reach around the trigger and the revealing top she wore hung loose over her flat chest. The sight of it was almost comical. Michael barely suppressed a giggle. Oh, god, that would probably just make her angry.
"I'm here! Michael!" he called back to her after an awkward pause. He hoped the apologetic tone of his voice translated through the fencing mask. Maybe he should ask her not to shoot him, but maybe it wouldn't be such a bad thing if it woke him up?
"Don't hurt me?" That seemed like the appropriate thing to say.
Fuck, she definitely did just see him. Michael's breathing quickened, and hot air blew against his mask, causing him to sweat. Wearing that thing was quickly becoming unbearable, but he couldn't take if off. Having something, even just a thin layer of metal between his face and the rest of the world made him feel just slightly more secure, and right now he needed all the security he could get. He peeked his head above the grass just enough to get a slightly better look at what was happening. Yes, that was deinitely a rifle. It wasn't pointed directly at him, she was a bit off, but the fact that she had a fucking gigantic rifle in the first place was still pretty terrifying.
Was she also wearing a spiked collar and a mini skirt?
He finally managed to slow his breath a bit. This entire situation was patently ridiculous. Here he was, crouched in the grass in the middle of a huge field he'd never seen before, convinced that some arbitrary object he was wearing was important to his survival as a girl with a huge gun and tiny outfit threatened him with death. It was completely surreal, and it sealed in his mind that he had to be dreaming. Maybe it was unnaturally long, but Michael did have bizarre sleeping habits to begin with anyway. He'd probably just passed out in class after those two all-nighters.
The only question now was what to do next. Being menaced with guns was actually a pretty common theme in Michael's nightmares, probably due to the horror stories he liked to read. Normally he would just wake up when whatever enemy menacing him fired, but once in a while they'd simply hit him in a non-fatal place and the dream continued anyway. He wondered which one would be the case now.
He stood up. The tall grass now out of his vision, Michael was able to get a better look at his attacker. In fact, he kind of recognized her. What was her name? He'd seen her in school before, but they had never talked - most of the other students at Silver Dragon didn't talk to him very much. He was pretty sure her name was Rachel, maybe? She looked like a Rachel. Rachel was a good name for small girls. And this girl really was tiny, he'd never seen anybody so skinny. Her pale fingers were only barely long enough to reach around the trigger and the revealing top she wore hung loose over her flat chest. The sight of it was almost comical. Michael barely suppressed a giggle. Oh, god, that would probably just make her angry.
"I'm here! Michael!" he called back to her after an awkward pause. He hoped the apologetic tone of his voice translated through the fencing mask. Maybe he should ask her not to shoot him, but maybe it wouldn't be such a bad thing if it woke him up?
"Don't hurt me?" That seemed like the appropriate thing to say.
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MurderWeasel
- Posts: 3431
- Joined: Mon Aug 06, 2018 9:56 am
- Team Affiliation: Jewel's Leviathans
A voice echoes very softly from Nate's collar...
"Hey, listen—Natalie, right?—listen, Natalie: our team's in pretty serious trouble. There are only a couple of you left, and, well, okay, I think you're going to be alone here soon. But, hey, just trust me, okay? We'll show them. We know all about comebacks, right? So don't worry. Stick with me, and I'll help you through this. We'll show 'em that we're not has-beens yet."
"Hey, listen—Natalie, right?—listen, Natalie: our team's in pretty serious trouble. There are only a couple of you left, and, well, okay, I think you're going to be alone here soon. But, hey, just trust me, okay? We'll show them. We know all about comebacks, right? So don't worry. Stick with me, and I'll help you through this. We'll show 'em that we're not has-beens yet."
A mask? That was... interesting. Menacing, almost.
It didn't go a long way towards reassuring her. People wearing masks just made Nate think that they had something to hide. He said what his name was, but, well, what if he was lying? What if he was just trying to conceal his real identity behind that mask? It would be easy enough to do it right, right!?
Nate took a deep breath, trembling slightly. The barrel of the gun wavered, dipping back and forth, not even pointing straight at the boy, Michael. She couldn't do this, she couldn't hold somebody at gunpoint. It didn't matter if he was hiding something or not, it would make her no better than... no better than Marvia.
"I... look just... over there, alright?"
It wasn't really a particularly coherent sentence. Nate figured he'd get the idea.
Then her collar spoke, and she froze up again. The team? Her team was... gone? Well, not that it mattered, not with Marvia stealing her bandana... Who was this guy anyway? Her mentor? Stick with him? How the heck could she stick with him when she was on this island!?
Okay. Okay. Calm down.
"Michael who?"
It didn't go a long way towards reassuring her. People wearing masks just made Nate think that they had something to hide. He said what his name was, but, well, what if he was lying? What if he was just trying to conceal his real identity behind that mask? It would be easy enough to do it right, right!?
Nate took a deep breath, trembling slightly. The barrel of the gun wavered, dipping back and forth, not even pointing straight at the boy, Michael. She couldn't do this, she couldn't hold somebody at gunpoint. It didn't matter if he was hiding something or not, it would make her no better than... no better than Marvia.
"I... look just... over there, alright?"
It wasn't really a particularly coherent sentence. Nate figured he'd get the idea.
Then her collar spoke, and she froze up again. The team? Her team was... gone? Well, not that it mattered, not with Marvia stealing her bandana... Who was this guy anyway? Her mentor? Stick with him? How the heck could she stick with him when she was on this island!?
Okay. Okay. Calm down.
"Michael who?"
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whisperinwater*
- Posts: 5
- Joined: Tue Aug 14, 2018 9:50 pm
Michael didn't like the looks of the situation. Something was clearly wrong with Rachel or whatever her name was. For one thing, she didn't seem to be able to form a full sentence. It could've just his sleeping brain playing tricks on him, but whatever she was trying to say made no sense. Did she want him to look behind him? What, and shoot him in the back? How dumb did she think he was? Not to mention she could barely even hold her gun straight. Every time it shook, Michael's heart gave an uncomfortable jerk. And then of course there were her clothes. Fuck, he definitely shouldn't have laughed at them - clearly they were just another sign that Rachel-whoever was absolutely, completely unhinged. Michael stayed rooted where he stood, and braced himself for a shot.
It never came. What did come was some kind of whispering voice from nowhere. He was standing a little too far away from Rachel-somebody to hear exactly what was being said, but it was pretty clear that the voice was coming from her, but that clearly wasn't her voice. She seemed just as taken aback by it as he did. What the hell did this mean? Was the voice telling her something about him? Did it think he was threat, was it encouraging her to shoot him? A rush of fear hit Michael and his brain began working a mile a minute, thinking of every terrible possibility.
"M-Michael Marshall!" he shouted almost as soon as the girl had asked her question. "From school? I mean I've seen you around, I dunno, um-" How did you convince an acquaintance not to kill you? "I mean I uh. You usually weren't dressed like uh, like you are so I uh, I didn't recognize you at first and I mean um..." he realized he was still shouting. He paused, took a few deep breaths, and tried unsuccessfully to calm his voice down a bit. "I'm no socialite at school anyway but uh yeah, please don't believe whatever that guy just said! I don't want to hurt you I don't even have a good weapon really uh..." In one swift motion, Michael bent over and whipped the fencing foil out of his bag, holding it in front of him like a shield. It glinted gold slightly in the sunlight, which comforted Michael somehow. Not that he didn't know his weapon was outclassed in every way, but it gave him the same feeling of security the mask did - at least now there was something else between him and the rifle.
"Yeah, see? Please please please don't hurt me?"
The security faded pretty quickly, though. God, he really hoped he was going to wake up soon.
It never came. What did come was some kind of whispering voice from nowhere. He was standing a little too far away from Rachel-somebody to hear exactly what was being said, but it was pretty clear that the voice was coming from her, but that clearly wasn't her voice. She seemed just as taken aback by it as he did. What the hell did this mean? Was the voice telling her something about him? Did it think he was threat, was it encouraging her to shoot him? A rush of fear hit Michael and his brain began working a mile a minute, thinking of every terrible possibility.
"M-Michael Marshall!" he shouted almost as soon as the girl had asked her question. "From school? I mean I've seen you around, I dunno, um-" How did you convince an acquaintance not to kill you? "I mean I uh. You usually weren't dressed like uh, like you are so I uh, I didn't recognize you at first and I mean um..." he realized he was still shouting. He paused, took a few deep breaths, and tried unsuccessfully to calm his voice down a bit. "I'm no socialite at school anyway but uh yeah, please don't believe whatever that guy just said! I don't want to hurt you I don't even have a good weapon really uh..." In one swift motion, Michael bent over and whipped the fencing foil out of his bag, holding it in front of him like a shield. It glinted gold slightly in the sunlight, which comforted Michael somehow. Not that he didn't know his weapon was outclassed in every way, but it gave him the same feeling of security the mask did - at least now there was something else between him and the rifle.
"Yeah, see? Please please please don't hurt me?"
The security faded pretty quickly, though. God, he really hoped he was going to wake up soon.
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Marshall. Still didn't mean anything much to Nate, but he apparently seemed to know her from around school. Sounded pretty genuine, not that Nate was particularly good at lie detecting. Didn't speak to people enough to be able to gauge too well. Then again... the gun. Well, you'd probably have to be pretty stupid to lie to somebody at gunpoint, right?
She shifted uneasily. Nate wasn't growing any more comfortable with the rifle, pretty and sleek as it was. Just seemed... wrong to hold somebody up. And look... look he only had that sword. Barely even a sword really, a skinny little whiplike thing. It looked more suited as some kind of old-school punishment than for actually hurting people. Did this... did this guy really have it out for her, or was he just...
Afraid?
Nate lowered the gun, even though the barrel had already been dipping lower and lower, wavering further from its actual 'target'.
"Sorry," she said. "I'm jumpy. Got shot at and beaten up," Nate didn't really want to share the gory details. What had happened with Marvia... wasn't pleasant. Nate rubbed at the blatent hickey on her neck gingerly. She winced, feeling both the bruise and the horrible dryness of her throat. "Got any spare water? My bag was taken. Haven't had a drop yet."
She shifted uneasily. Nate wasn't growing any more comfortable with the rifle, pretty and sleek as it was. Just seemed... wrong to hold somebody up. And look... look he only had that sword. Barely even a sword really, a skinny little whiplike thing. It looked more suited as some kind of old-school punishment than for actually hurting people. Did this... did this guy really have it out for her, or was he just...
Afraid?
Nate lowered the gun, even though the barrel had already been dipping lower and lower, wavering further from its actual 'target'.
"Sorry," she said. "I'm jumpy. Got shot at and beaten up," Nate didn't really want to share the gory details. What had happened with Marvia... wasn't pleasant. Nate rubbed at the blatent hickey on her neck gingerly. She winced, feeling both the bruise and the horrible dryness of her throat. "Got any spare water? My bag was taken. Haven't had a drop yet."
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whisperinwater*
- Posts: 5
- Joined: Tue Aug 14, 2018 9:50 pm
She didn't seem to recognize him. Of course, Michael didn't really know her name, and he was still wearing a mask. It was probably silly to have expected a different reaction. She was steadily lowering her gun, though, and as the barrel pointed further and further away from him Michael felt his pulse slowing down marginally. Getting a better look at her, Mike noticed the hickey on her neck. He'd seen plenty of students at school walking around with them before - they wore them like oozing purple trophies, strutting around. They just looked stupid to him. Rachel-whoever seemed uncomfortable, though. How must it have felt to get that thing, Michael wondered before averting his gaze anywhere else.
She muttered an apology and asked for some water. It seemed like a peace offering, and Michael was more than willing to take the opportunity to break the tension.
"Uhh, yeah! Yes, sure!" He bent back down in the grass for a second to rummage through the bag he'd received. Strange how he'd never noticed the food in here before under all the fencing gear. He had spent his time so far on the island wandering in a haze of confusion, the pack just an afterthought, but suddenly Michael realized that the sun was intense, and his mask was suffocating, and his throat was dry as a bone, too.
He reached in, awkwardly clutched at two water bottles in one hand while still grasping the fencing sword in the other, and made a feeble attempt to toss one of them to the girl with the gun. It landed in the grass in front of her.
"Uhh, sorry. I, uh. Can't throw."
That was dumb. Considering the situation, though, it was difficult not to be a bit awkward. Michael adjusted the mask a little, trying to coax a draft of air into it. He still didn't want to take it off just yet, not when there was still a lot about this girl he didn't know, in particular whether she was mentally stable. Or who she was communicating with.
"So what did that voice say about me?" He blurted out without thinking. Well, at least he didn't ask about her clothes.
She muttered an apology and asked for some water. It seemed like a peace offering, and Michael was more than willing to take the opportunity to break the tension.
"Uhh, yeah! Yes, sure!" He bent back down in the grass for a second to rummage through the bag he'd received. Strange how he'd never noticed the food in here before under all the fencing gear. He had spent his time so far on the island wandering in a haze of confusion, the pack just an afterthought, but suddenly Michael realized that the sun was intense, and his mask was suffocating, and his throat was dry as a bone, too.
He reached in, awkwardly clutched at two water bottles in one hand while still grasping the fencing sword in the other, and made a feeble attempt to toss one of them to the girl with the gun. It landed in the grass in front of her.
"Uhh, sorry. I, uh. Can't throw."
That was dumb. Considering the situation, though, it was difficult not to be a bit awkward. Michael adjusted the mask a little, trying to coax a draft of air into it. He still didn't want to take it off just yet, not when there was still a lot about this girl he didn't know, in particular whether she was mentally stable. Or who she was communicating with.
"So what did that voice say about me?" He blurted out without thinking. Well, at least he didn't ask about her clothes.
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Nate, not really caring how it would look, eagerly snatched up the water bottle, cracking open the seal and taking a deep swig. Ahh jeez... she'd really, really needed that. It was too hot out here not to have anything to drink, and she had no idea whether there were any natural sources of water around, thanks to her lost map.
Taking a slightly more measured sip, Nate half-smiled at Michael to show her appreciation. "Thanks... haven't had a drink in a day."
Of course, just as Nate was starting to feel a little more relaxed, he had to go and ask about the voice from her collar. The dude had heard that? It had been such a quiet whisper... maybe she'd made it obvious that she was listening or something. Nate froze up, no doubt making her look very suspicious.
"Nothing," oh great. Smooth. "Just said the team was doing bad."
Taking a slightly more measured sip, Nate half-smiled at Michael to show her appreciation. "Thanks... haven't had a drink in a day."
Of course, just as Nate was starting to feel a little more relaxed, he had to go and ask about the voice from her collar. The dude had heard that? It had been such a quiet whisper... maybe she'd made it obvious that she was listening or something. Nate froze up, no doubt making her look very suspicious.
"Nothing," oh great. Smooth. "Just said the team was doing bad."
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whisperinwater*
- Posts: 5
- Joined: Tue Aug 14, 2018 9:50 pm
"Uh, sure," Michael said, gaping at the girl throwing her head back. A droplet of water fell from the corner of her mouth and traced a trail down her neck and mostly-exposed chest. God, that outfit was making him uncomfortable.
Speaking of uncomfortable, Rachel-something was looking pretty taken aback by his question. She mentioned something about teams. Oh. Shit. That was how this game worked, wasn't it? Everyone had a bunch of teammates.
Wait.
That meant that there were people out here that were probably looking for him too. People that he didn't have to constantly worry about his life around. His stomach gave an audible growl. Maybe he'd even be able to take this stupid mask off long enough around his teammates to eat something.
"Oh," was the only response Michael could give to the girl. After that, he simply sat in an awkward silence, trying to think of a way to tell her he should probably get far away from her and find someone that he wasn't convinced was going to snap and shoot him in the face at any moment.
"Um, so. Maybe I should keep moving," he managed to mutter as he turned around and began to trudge off. Hopefully this didn't piss her off. Wouldn't want to get shot in the back. Fuck, she totally could tell he thought she was crazy. Before he could stop himself, Michael turned around again.
"Um, hey... uh..." Great. Too late to ask her her name now. "Uh, you can, I guess, come too if you want..."
He hastily turned back around and kept walking. This was gonna be awkward.
((Michael Marshall Continued To: Where do you Run When There's Nowhere to Hide?))
((I know this area's not a dangerzone, I just have no idea how to write that Michael was in this area for three announcements in a row.))
Speaking of uncomfortable, Rachel-something was looking pretty taken aback by his question. She mentioned something about teams. Oh. Shit. That was how this game worked, wasn't it? Everyone had a bunch of teammates.
Wait.
That meant that there were people out here that were probably looking for him too. People that he didn't have to constantly worry about his life around. His stomach gave an audible growl. Maybe he'd even be able to take this stupid mask off long enough around his teammates to eat something.
"Oh," was the only response Michael could give to the girl. After that, he simply sat in an awkward silence, trying to think of a way to tell her he should probably get far away from her and find someone that he wasn't convinced was going to snap and shoot him in the face at any moment.
"Um, so. Maybe I should keep moving," he managed to mutter as he turned around and began to trudge off. Hopefully this didn't piss her off. Wouldn't want to get shot in the back. Fuck, she totally could tell he thought she was crazy. Before he could stop himself, Michael turned around again.
"Um, hey... uh..." Great. Too late to ask her her name now. "Uh, you can, I guess, come too if you want..."
He hastily turned back around and kept walking. This was gonna be awkward.
((Michael Marshall Continued To: Where do you Run When There's Nowhere to Hide?))
((I know this area's not a dangerzone, I just have no idea how to write that Michael was in this area for three announcements in a row.))
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Michael, after an uncomfortable moment, announced that he was moving on. That was fine by Nate, she wasn't confident in him either. He'd given her some water, it was true, but she didn't trust that mask of his... No, parting now sounded like a good idea.
And hey, she was up a little bit now, right? This was one encounter that had actually gone... decently. Then again, what she had to compare it to was getting shot at, getting drugged, and almost getting ambushed.
...Yeah.
Time to go.
((Nate continued in Crunch))
And hey, she was up a little bit now, right? This was one encounter that had actually gone... decently. Then again, what she had to compare it to was getting shot at, getting drugged, and almost getting ambushed.
...Yeah.
Time to go.
((Nate continued in Crunch))