((FR03: Keegan Garcia continued from Picnic After The Panic))
Keegan hadn't been to a lot of funerals.
It was luck, probably, or just a matter of age. People he knew simply didn't die a whole lot, setting aside the last forty-eight hours of course. He didn't pay that much attention to his parents' social spheres, and even they were comprised of fifty-somethings. They weren't dropping left and right. He'd been to a couple things for someone's grandparents or something, back when he was, oh, somewhere between ten and thirteen, and he'd had to wear a suit and be really still and quiet while people got weepy and gave speeches about this guy he couldn't even remember and played on the piano. His parents had probably just not been able to get a babysitter, or had wanted to show they really meant their support by dragging the whole family or something. Keegan had spent the entire time looking around the church imagining orcs battling in it. They'd take cover behind the pews, bust in through the high ceiling to lay down suppression fire. It hadn't been that bad an experience, really, aside from the uncomfortable slacks and blazer.
When it came to funerals designed to actually honor the deceased, though? Keegan would take what they had going here over some stodgy church affair any day of the week.
The mood was still kind of somber, that was true. It wasn't the full wake-as-party experience, which was kind of a shame. But it could've been a lot more of a bummer.
They didn't have Giselle's body. Keegan had sort of assumed they would bring her here, but also it made no sense; what would they have done after they finished in that case? Yeet her right back over the side? Leave her enshrined in the pool itself, forever floating on an inflatable alligator? Both of those options were a lot less, well, respectful than simply verbally paying their dues.
Unlike the half-forgotten, long-ago funeral, Keegan wasn't in a suit. He'd ditched the monk robe, for the moment, and had shrugged his jacket off too, and if anything he was now just a tiny bit cold. He was still hanging out on the beach chair, which beat a hard-back pew any day. They had a casual atmosphere that didn't obligate him to stand, granted partially because he was injured. They'd talked and cried and laughed. At some point they'd moved some of the umbrellas around so they weren't baking in the sun. The pool floats had been corralled to one side, but they were still there. James was still missing, but they weren't talking about that much. A couple seagulls were hanging out on one of the railings, and now and then Keegan tossed them a scrap of dried squid to watch them bicker over it.
When he died, he hoped he got something kind of the same.
With Friends Like These...
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MurderWeasel
- Posts: 3432
- Joined: Mon Aug 06, 2018 9:56 am
- Team Affiliation: Jewel's Leviathans
((FR01: Fisk Bateman is not okay, but better than he was.))
“... It’s an awful thing that happened, but it’s a wake up call too. Got too cocky, got too complacent. Today was a warning, a warning that shouldn’t have happened, but the past can’t be changed. The only control we have over this situation is to choose to change ourselves for the better, and not let what happened to Giselle change us for the worst.”
Fisk stood in the forefront of the group behind the makeshift pew that formerly was the ice cream vendor. Fisk liked speeches, but not in the context of this. He was not the type for a somber mood, let alone the type to speak respectfully of people, but he owed it to everyone here. And Giselle. And James.
“Now I understand that quite a few of you may not have known Giselle too well, but she was a great person. Sure, she was brash, rude, and one mean bitch, but that doesn’t detract from the fact that she was an amazing human being, and an even better friend. She was loyal, she gave a fuck about her friends, and she didn’t give a single fuck about what the world thought. If she were here, she wouldn’t have wanted this-err, wanted to see us like this.”
Fisk’s eyes trailed over to the jetties where he’d found her. There was a chuckle despite it all.
“Hell, if she could’ve spoke to me an hour ago, she’d have told me to ‘stop being a bitch.’” Fisk nodded to Keegan. “Keegs could attest to that.” A somber smile. “So for her sake, and for all of ours, I’m gonna follow her advice.”
He looked down at the ice cream vendor. “We all made a lot of mistakes here, but I’ll be the first to admit, I made the gravest. I didn’t personally finish off Ivan myself, and when he took Giselle, I went right instead of left. It was my fault that James took that nasty hit from Jasper. I did a lot of awful shit, and not much I’m proud of, and the things I am proud of are down right despicable!”
“But, there’s no way of knowing what would’ve happened in the past to lead into the present. They call it the butterfly effect. One little choice made an hour ago, or a day ago, even a minute has some catastrophic outcome nobody could see coming at the time, but then hindsight makes it so plainly obvious. Hindsight is only 20/20 because we can replay these events in our heads. Many people get too hooked on grief to see the reason it’s there, but the reality is it’s a tool to learn from, to not make the same wrong choices. It’s not there for us to rip ourselves to pieces, or each other.”
He didn’t know what else to say. He didn’t know if that was the right thing to say. He...
“But...”
“But this isn’t about us right now, and I’m not going to make it. This is about Giselle, and we can’t learn from events if we don’t honor the sacrifices it took.”
“Giselle fought about as hard as the rest of us, and it’s a shame she was taken so soon. Giselle always did what she felt was right, or funny. A lot of times in her case, she made it both. She left her mark on the world, and hopefully she pissed off a lot of people on the way out, I know that’s the way she’d have wanted it.”
He couldn’t help but laugh at some of the stories he’d have to tell, even before the game started she was insane.
“I’m sure it’s probably an internet meme now, but you had to be there when she pulled her stunt at the con. She went there as a Karen-stan and just ran up on stage and pushed Dexter out of the way. Wanted to tell the world the truth before she was dragged off. What little she said; well it was pretty true too. She didn’t give a fuck. Wasn’t a publicity thing either...”
“Back when we were doing that group project and she showed up late, Mrs.Hansen tried to point her to joining some other group of deadbeats, and Giselle just ignored her. Went straight to us and that was that...”
“Hell even here and now, she didn’t give a fuck. When we trussed up Ivan she took his fucking wallet, showed his credit card to the world just to spite his producer daddy. You and I all know the Rodriguez family had a lot of chargebacks to do that night.”
“Giselle never gave a fuck, to the very end. Even in her last moments, I’d bet she was fighting Ivan, and saying all sorts of shit to him. She was tough, and she was honest, there’s no other way she’d go out. The world’s gonna miss out on that, it could use more honest people like her. To be so bold, brazen, and brave.”
Fisk pulled out the issued flask of Captain Morgan.
“To the baddest bitch of the Respects.”
Fisk uncapped it.
“To Giselle Filmore!”
“... It’s an awful thing that happened, but it’s a wake up call too. Got too cocky, got too complacent. Today was a warning, a warning that shouldn’t have happened, but the past can’t be changed. The only control we have over this situation is to choose to change ourselves for the better, and not let what happened to Giselle change us for the worst.”
Fisk stood in the forefront of the group behind the makeshift pew that formerly was the ice cream vendor. Fisk liked speeches, but not in the context of this. He was not the type for a somber mood, let alone the type to speak respectfully of people, but he owed it to everyone here. And Giselle. And James.
“Now I understand that quite a few of you may not have known Giselle too well, but she was a great person. Sure, she was brash, rude, and one mean bitch, but that doesn’t detract from the fact that she was an amazing human being, and an even better friend. She was loyal, she gave a fuck about her friends, and she didn’t give a single fuck about what the world thought. If she were here, she wouldn’t have wanted this-err, wanted to see us like this.”
Fisk’s eyes trailed over to the jetties where he’d found her. There was a chuckle despite it all.
“Hell, if she could’ve spoke to me an hour ago, she’d have told me to ‘stop being a bitch.’” Fisk nodded to Keegan. “Keegs could attest to that.” A somber smile. “So for her sake, and for all of ours, I’m gonna follow her advice.”
He looked down at the ice cream vendor. “We all made a lot of mistakes here, but I’ll be the first to admit, I made the gravest. I didn’t personally finish off Ivan myself, and when he took Giselle, I went right instead of left. It was my fault that James took that nasty hit from Jasper. I did a lot of awful shit, and not much I’m proud of, and the things I am proud of are down right despicable!”
“But, there’s no way of knowing what would’ve happened in the past to lead into the present. They call it the butterfly effect. One little choice made an hour ago, or a day ago, even a minute has some catastrophic outcome nobody could see coming at the time, but then hindsight makes it so plainly obvious. Hindsight is only 20/20 because we can replay these events in our heads. Many people get too hooked on grief to see the reason it’s there, but the reality is it’s a tool to learn from, to not make the same wrong choices. It’s not there for us to rip ourselves to pieces, or each other.”
He didn’t know what else to say. He didn’t know if that was the right thing to say. He...
“But...”
“But this isn’t about us right now, and I’m not going to make it. This is about Giselle, and we can’t learn from events if we don’t honor the sacrifices it took.”
“Giselle fought about as hard as the rest of us, and it’s a shame she was taken so soon. Giselle always did what she felt was right, or funny. A lot of times in her case, she made it both. She left her mark on the world, and hopefully she pissed off a lot of people on the way out, I know that’s the way she’d have wanted it.”
He couldn’t help but laugh at some of the stories he’d have to tell, even before the game started she was insane.
“I’m sure it’s probably an internet meme now, but you had to be there when she pulled her stunt at the con. She went there as a Karen-stan and just ran up on stage and pushed Dexter out of the way. Wanted to tell the world the truth before she was dragged off. What little she said; well it was pretty true too. She didn’t give a fuck. Wasn’t a publicity thing either...”
“Back when we were doing that group project and she showed up late, Mrs.Hansen tried to point her to joining some other group of deadbeats, and Giselle just ignored her. Went straight to us and that was that...”
“Hell even here and now, she didn’t give a fuck. When we trussed up Ivan she took his fucking wallet, showed his credit card to the world just to spite his producer daddy. You and I all know the Rodriguez family had a lot of chargebacks to do that night.”
“Giselle never gave a fuck, to the very end. Even in her last moments, I’d bet she was fighting Ivan, and saying all sorts of shit to him. She was tough, and she was honest, there’s no other way she’d go out. The world’s gonna miss out on that, it could use more honest people like her. To be so bold, brazen, and brave.”
Fisk pulled out the issued flask of Captain Morgan.
“To the baddest bitch of the Respects.”
Fisk uncapped it.
“To Giselle Filmore!”
Catche thinks my squirrel is Fisk so here's my daily reminder that he is not.
His teeth couldn’t stop grinding against each other.
Vasily wanted to get up and pace around, but he didn’t out of respect. His weight shifted from on one foot to another, and despite his relative hunger he’s never felt so heavy before- like the full weight of his body had always dragged him down.
But that wasn’t what he was supposed to focus on.
He wanted to say so many things, but the more Fisk went on and on, the more hesitant he was, so he just sat there, hands behind his back, legs roving around, eyes looking downwards at the floor.
That pep talk. That fucking pep talk. He wondered if Fisk was just playing up that false positivity to make sure nobody goes insane in this atmosphere, or if he was just genuinely delusional. He was a nice person- that kind of person that just felt like a character in the best way, like he didn’t even have to try to be who he was- but the more he talked the more it felt like he was reading off of a movie script.
That’s fine- Vasily probably should respect that, honestly. Everybody has their own quirks.
Didn’t stop him from having to hold back the urge to interject until he got to the part where he started complimenting Giselle, though.
His nails dug into his palm.
All that energy and personality packed into a single girl was just gone. There’s no worth in celebrating the dead. Objectively it was worthless and a waste of time and emotionally draining.
Subjectively, though…
This was one of Fisk’s better ideas.
Somewhat feebly, he took his own bottle out and held it up.
“Shall we do a toast?”
Too formal for himself, but when has he ever acted like himself, on or off island, anyways?
Vasily wanted to get up and pace around, but he didn’t out of respect. His weight shifted from on one foot to another, and despite his relative hunger he’s never felt so heavy before- like the full weight of his body had always dragged him down.
But that wasn’t what he was supposed to focus on.
He wanted to say so many things, but the more Fisk went on and on, the more hesitant he was, so he just sat there, hands behind his back, legs roving around, eyes looking downwards at the floor.
That pep talk. That fucking pep talk. He wondered if Fisk was just playing up that false positivity to make sure nobody goes insane in this atmosphere, or if he was just genuinely delusional. He was a nice person- that kind of person that just felt like a character in the best way, like he didn’t even have to try to be who he was- but the more he talked the more it felt like he was reading off of a movie script.
That’s fine- Vasily probably should respect that, honestly. Everybody has their own quirks.
Didn’t stop him from having to hold back the urge to interject until he got to the part where he started complimenting Giselle, though.
His nails dug into his palm.
All that energy and personality packed into a single girl was just gone. There’s no worth in celebrating the dead. Objectively it was worthless and a waste of time and emotionally draining.
Subjectively, though…
This was one of Fisk’s better ideas.
Somewhat feebly, he took his own bottle out and held it up.
“Shall we do a toast?”
Too formal for himself, but when has he ever acted like himself, on or off island, anyways?
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Primrosette
- Posts: 896
- Joined: Wed Aug 08, 2018 1:59 pm
- Location: In Her Dark Abyss
Funerals felt like a rare oddity to Bacchia.
She had only ever been to one once when she was just ten years old and she had been lost over why people's faces were wet with some weird liquid. Although, everyone wearing a dark colour of black had somewhat intrigued her curiosity and she wanted to ask a lot of questions about the person in the coffin. But her mother had told her that she couldn't disturb the people whom had been grieving and mourning over their loss. It had been a friend of her father's side who had lost his father to a heart attack a few weeks before due to having a weak heart in his old age and Bacchia still couldn't understand why people were still sad.
She always thought that it would be better to celebrate a person's life with happy memories. She had thought that tears were meaningless back then.
How wrong she had been back then.
She could only watch in silence and awe at Fisk's speech about Giselle as she was seated and she rubbed her bandaged fingers slightly together.
Emotions were a part of life.
She needed to understand better.
She got out her small bottle and she knew that it was supposed to be used for medical reasons. But one little sip would hurt, right?
"Mm." She hummed softly and she nodded at Vasily. She didn't really need words to give out how she was feeling.
She raised the bottle without a care in the world.
"To Giselle Filmore! The baddest bitch ever!"
She had only ever been to one once when she was just ten years old and she had been lost over why people's faces were wet with some weird liquid. Although, everyone wearing a dark colour of black had somewhat intrigued her curiosity and she wanted to ask a lot of questions about the person in the coffin. But her mother had told her that she couldn't disturb the people whom had been grieving and mourning over their loss. It had been a friend of her father's side who had lost his father to a heart attack a few weeks before due to having a weak heart in his old age and Bacchia still couldn't understand why people were still sad.
She always thought that it would be better to celebrate a person's life with happy memories. She had thought that tears were meaningless back then.
How wrong she had been back then.
She could only watch in silence and awe at Fisk's speech about Giselle as she was seated and she rubbed her bandaged fingers slightly together.
Emotions were a part of life.
She needed to understand better.
She got out her small bottle and she knew that it was supposed to be used for medical reasons. But one little sip would hurt, right?
"Mm." She hummed softly and she nodded at Vasily. She didn't really need words to give out how she was feeling.
She raised the bottle without a care in the world.
"To Giselle Filmore! The baddest bitch ever!"
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Wham Yubeesling
- Posts: 1256
- Joined: Mon Aug 06, 2018 9:15 pm
- Location: there is a man standing behind you
- Team Affiliation: Stephanie's Buccaneers
- Contact:
And like with every funeral worth having, there was a mysterious lady dressed in black roughly twenty metres away from everyone else, silently watching the proceedings with nary an expression on her face.
((continued from TV3: The Second Announcement))
She hadn’t known Giselle. Literally the one thing she ever did was yell at people and go ‘wow, this sotf thing is really evil and bad huh’ and, like, while that obviously wasn’t Verity’s scene in any way and she mostly just spent her time back at Mangrove being as outside her line of sight as possible maybe… maybe if it weren’t for the whole ‘attempting to kill people’ part the Giselle of then and the Verity of now could’ve maybe been friends. They were both kind of crazy. They both thought this whole SotF thing kind of really fucking sucked. Apparently they were both friends with Keegan. They could’ve met. They could’ve vibed. They could’ve seen… something in common, maybe.
Back then, of course. Not here. The Giselle of here was apparently with this group. Apparently attempted to kill people. Apparently had to be on The List.
And also was, apparently, already dead. Killed by Ivan. Her own teammate. No clue how that happened (‘revenge’ was so non-specific), but… but Ivan was involved. Verity remembered Ivan. And Verity had placed him on the list. Precautionarily.
But this wasn’t about Ivan. This wasn’t about Giselle, even though this scene was actually about Giselle. No. This was about Verity; how she was standing to the side of the banquet hall entrance, watching the group from an angle where the curve of the… hull? ship part? covered her body, prevented the other four from seeing her. This was about Fisk, who was grandstanding, acting as the emcee of this funeral. This was about Vasily and Bacchia, who had just stood up, offered to drink with Fisk. And this was about Keegan, who was just sitting there. Watching. Listening. Making Verity think about that one time she invited him to her grandma’s funeral, back when both were thirteen. It had been… selfish — there hadn’t exactly been a lot for Keegan to do there other than be a shoulder for Verity to cry on when the funeral inevitably made her cry, but he’d… done that. He stayed there. Maybe that was why he kept being a friend. Maybe that was why he stayed when all the others from that group inevitably faded out.
…
…
But this wasn’t about him. Or Bacchia. Or Vasily. Or Fisk. Or Verity. This was about the gun in Verity’s palm. This was about the group of people twenty metres away from her, at least three of which were on the list. This was about… the plan she had. The idea she had. The thing she was going to have to commit to one way or the other the moment she stepped out from hiding. The fact that any movement would cause noise. Would cause them to notice. Would effectively place her right in the pool. Right in the open. Forced to commit. Forced to do this.
She took a breath.
She took a breath.
She could do this.
She could do this.
Just had to wait for the right moment. The right gap in the conversation. This was normal. This was fine. This was something she would’ve had to do even had this game never casted her. This was… an adult thing. Verity was being an adult. Verity was an adult and as thus she was going to do this adult thing.
Yeah.
Yeah.
She could do this.
Just…
((SS01: Begin))
((continued from TV3: The Second Announcement))
She hadn’t known Giselle. Literally the one thing she ever did was yell at people and go ‘wow, this sotf thing is really evil and bad huh’ and, like, while that obviously wasn’t Verity’s scene in any way and she mostly just spent her time back at Mangrove being as outside her line of sight as possible maybe… maybe if it weren’t for the whole ‘attempting to kill people’ part the Giselle of then and the Verity of now could’ve maybe been friends. They were both kind of crazy. They both thought this whole SotF thing kind of really fucking sucked. Apparently they were both friends with Keegan. They could’ve met. They could’ve vibed. They could’ve seen… something in common, maybe.
Back then, of course. Not here. The Giselle of here was apparently with this group. Apparently attempted to kill people. Apparently had to be on The List.
And also was, apparently, already dead. Killed by Ivan. Her own teammate. No clue how that happened (‘revenge’ was so non-specific), but… but Ivan was involved. Verity remembered Ivan. And Verity had placed him on the list. Precautionarily.
But this wasn’t about Ivan. This wasn’t about Giselle, even though this scene was actually about Giselle. No. This was about Verity; how she was standing to the side of the banquet hall entrance, watching the group from an angle where the curve of the… hull? ship part? covered her body, prevented the other four from seeing her. This was about Fisk, who was grandstanding, acting as the emcee of this funeral. This was about Vasily and Bacchia, who had just stood up, offered to drink with Fisk. And this was about Keegan, who was just sitting there. Watching. Listening. Making Verity think about that one time she invited him to her grandma’s funeral, back when both were thirteen. It had been… selfish — there hadn’t exactly been a lot for Keegan to do there other than be a shoulder for Verity to cry on when the funeral inevitably made her cry, but he’d… done that. He stayed there. Maybe that was why he kept being a friend. Maybe that was why he stayed when all the others from that group inevitably faded out.
…
…
But this wasn’t about him. Or Bacchia. Or Vasily. Or Fisk. Or Verity. This was about the gun in Verity’s palm. This was about the group of people twenty metres away from her, at least three of which were on the list. This was about… the plan she had. The idea she had. The thing she was going to have to commit to one way or the other the moment she stepped out from hiding. The fact that any movement would cause noise. Would cause them to notice. Would effectively place her right in the pool. Right in the open. Forced to commit. Forced to do this.
She took a breath.
She took a breath.
She could do this.
She could do this.
Just had to wait for the right moment. The right gap in the conversation. This was normal. This was fine. This was something she would’ve had to do even had this game never casted her. This was… an adult thing. Verity was being an adult. Verity was an adult and as thus she was going to do this adult thing.
Yeah.
Yeah.
She could do this.
Just…
((SS01: Begin))
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MurderWeasel
- Posts: 3432
- Joined: Mon Aug 06, 2018 9:56 am
- Team Affiliation: Jewel's Leviathans
"A toast sounds good," Keegan said.
He rummaged again, and then drew out his remaining bottle of Gatorade. Slamming alcohol probably wouldn't kill him more than anything else would at the moment, but he wasn't totally sure and it just seemed like going into shock in the middle of a funeral would be impolite, kind of steal Giselle's attention or whatever. Plus, it just was not that tasty. He'd had drinks a time or two, more just sips of his parents' stuff really, and he did not get the appeal. He'd never even been properly drunk. Maybe he should've felt more like he was missing something there, but he didn't particularly. And besides, if he truly had the urge, he could just borrow some cocaine.
"To Giselle," he said, quietly.
His eyes were narrow again, but he could see the sparkling water of the pool, the clear blue skies, the fabric of the umbrellas rippling faintly with the breeze with a flap-flap noise. The seagulls watched him with their beady black eyes, tracking his hand as he retrieved the drink, but if they were hoping for more squid they were to be disappointed for now.
He watched Fisk and Bacchia and Vasily, loosely, as he brought the plastic bottle to his lips. He'd never liked Gatorade all that much, not even the original flavor. This one was not an improvement. He hadn't read what it was supposed to be—some Seussian nonsense, no doubt, Snozzleberry Surprise or something—but it didn't really matter. The taste was sugar with just enough bitterness to pretend it wasn't glorified soda.
Keegan rolled it around in his mouth, let it linger on his tongue, then swallowed it down.
He rummaged again, and then drew out his remaining bottle of Gatorade. Slamming alcohol probably wouldn't kill him more than anything else would at the moment, but he wasn't totally sure and it just seemed like going into shock in the middle of a funeral would be impolite, kind of steal Giselle's attention or whatever. Plus, it just was not that tasty. He'd had drinks a time or two, more just sips of his parents' stuff really, and he did not get the appeal. He'd never even been properly drunk. Maybe he should've felt more like he was missing something there, but he didn't particularly. And besides, if he truly had the urge, he could just borrow some cocaine.
"To Giselle," he said, quietly.
His eyes were narrow again, but he could see the sparkling water of the pool, the clear blue skies, the fabric of the umbrellas rippling faintly with the breeze with a flap-flap noise. The seagulls watched him with their beady black eyes, tracking his hand as he retrieved the drink, but if they were hoping for more squid they were to be disappointed for now.
He watched Fisk and Bacchia and Vasily, loosely, as he brought the plastic bottle to his lips. He'd never liked Gatorade all that much, not even the original flavor. This one was not an improvement. He hadn't read what it was supposed to be—some Seussian nonsense, no doubt, Snozzleberry Surprise or something—but it didn't really matter. The taste was sugar with just enough bitterness to pretend it wasn't glorified soda.
Keegan rolled it around in his mouth, let it linger on his tongue, then swallowed it down.
Fisk didn’t like the taste of alcohol. He didn’t mind the burn or the warmness in his chest, but the taste itself was anyways to medicinal, even mixed. Even with an iced jack and coke, it always tasted like jack with a hint of coke, even if mixed vice versa. Still, he downed the shot bottle.
Said what he needed to say.
Eyes started watering again.
Nah they didn’t need to see him like this. He threw the glass on the ground, shattering it. Swallowed. Took two fingers and wiped away at his eyes, made it look like he was pinching his nose.
“Alright.”
He strode back past the podium next to the empty seat by the other Respects. The one with his gatorade underneath he never finished because of Ivan and Rhonda.
“Anyone else got anything to say, podiums all yours.”
Said what he needed to say.
Eyes started watering again.
Nah they didn’t need to see him like this. He threw the glass on the ground, shattering it. Swallowed. Took two fingers and wiped away at his eyes, made it look like he was pinching his nose.
“Alright.”
He strode back past the podium next to the empty seat by the other Respects. The one with his gatorade underneath he never finished because of Ivan and Rhonda.
“Anyone else got anything to say, podiums all yours.”
Catche thinks my squirrel is Fisk so here's my daily reminder that he is not.
On instinct, he almost raised his hands to talk- kinda embarrassing, reminding the audience morbidly that he’s still a kid, and he passed the movement off as playing with the ruffles of his shirt.
“Uh, yeah, I have something to say.”
His eye scanned the deck.
“...Someone's here.”
Fuck.
He swung one leg over the other, straightening his spine in a way that mirrored how Anya sat most of the time. One could see Bacchia doing this- posh, a little fancy, and combined with the outfit it made him feel almost royal. Vasily took a small sip of the rum to hide the fact that he was still kind of shaking.
“So... what's next?”
“Uh, yeah, I have something to say.”
His eye scanned the deck.
“...Someone's here.”
Fuck.
He swung one leg over the other, straightening his spine in a way that mirrored how Anya sat most of the time. One could see Bacchia doing this- posh, a little fancy, and combined with the outfit it made him feel almost royal. Vasily took a small sip of the rum to hide the fact that he was still kind of shaking.
“So... what's next?”
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Wham Yubeesling
- Posts: 1256
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- Location: there is a man standing behind you
- Team Affiliation: Stephanie's Buccaneers
- Contact:
“What’s next is that- is that nobody tries and shoots me.”
Somebody — Vasily — had spotted her. Stealthed her out. Which was fine. He’d moved to try and get around the ice cream machine and in the midst of seeing the deck from a whole new angle had maybe seen a bit of Verity’s outline popping out from the side. Either that or she’d gotten a bit too un-stealthy in trying to listen to this and exposed more of herself than she needed to. Didn’t particularly matter either way — the goal here hadn’t been remaining hidden. Would’ve preferred to come out on her own terms because frankly ‘you are thrown into the deep end of the pool and you have to learn to swim NOW if you want to not drown’ wasn’t exactly the most comfortable way of learning things, but… this was SotF. The only real way of learning things was the deep end. Couldn’t just react to things if Verity didn’t want to be someone who only reacted to things, she had to move first. Escalate of her own accord.
She could do this.
She could do this.
And she already had, actually. By the time she said that sentence she’d stepped out of cover, put both hands over Timothy’s gun, and pointed it in the direction of the group — Fisk and Vasily with the ice cream machine between them, Bacchia and… Keegan with the ice cream machine in front of them.
“Sorry. I’m not going to shoot you. I’m just remembering last time we met you all tried to kill me for no reason so, like…”
She took a breath. Kept the gun firm. She was pretty sure she didn’t need to wiggle it to let the group know what she was proverbially pointing at.
“Better safe than sorry.”
Somebody — Vasily — had spotted her. Stealthed her out. Which was fine. He’d moved to try and get around the ice cream machine and in the midst of seeing the deck from a whole new angle had maybe seen a bit of Verity’s outline popping out from the side. Either that or she’d gotten a bit too un-stealthy in trying to listen to this and exposed more of herself than she needed to. Didn’t particularly matter either way — the goal here hadn’t been remaining hidden. Would’ve preferred to come out on her own terms because frankly ‘you are thrown into the deep end of the pool and you have to learn to swim NOW if you want to not drown’ wasn’t exactly the most comfortable way of learning things, but… this was SotF. The only real way of learning things was the deep end. Couldn’t just react to things if Verity didn’t want to be someone who only reacted to things, she had to move first. Escalate of her own accord.
She could do this.
She could do this.
And she already had, actually. By the time she said that sentence she’d stepped out of cover, put both hands over Timothy’s gun, and pointed it in the direction of the group — Fisk and Vasily with the ice cream machine between them, Bacchia and… Keegan with the ice cream machine in front of them.
“Sorry. I’m not going to shoot you. I’m just remembering last time we met you all tried to kill me for no reason so, like…”
She took a breath. Kept the gun firm. She was pretty sure she didn’t need to wiggle it to let the group know what she was proverbially pointing at.
“Better safe than sorry.”
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Primrosette
- Posts: 896
- Joined: Wed Aug 08, 2018 1:59 pm
- Location: In Her Dark Abyss
Bacchia would only frown as she noticed that the interruption was Verity with her fancy ass gun and she couldn't move to get the sword anyway. This time she made sure to keep herself more firmly seated and her grip on the bottle tightened slightly. Someone coming to catch them off-guard at the worst moment had made her feel a bit annoyed but this time she wasn't going to do anything to endanger the others. She didn't want Keegan to take another unnecessary bullet.
She glanced over at Keegan, mulling over what she could possibly say to the girl who was another threat to the group.
"Well, well...."
She stared back over at Verity and her measly little companion of trouble.
She moved her bandaged hand over her lap and she lowered the bottle as well a little. "I don't think apologizing is going to help you here, sweetie. But what do I know about that?" She said as her eyes flickered towards the gun more and then she was looking back at Verity's face. "To be fair, it was actually me who wanted to murder you back then. No hard feelings! I was just a little too bloodthirsty, you know."
She paused and she took another sip from her bottle.
"But hurting my friends is another question. Even if shooting Keegan was an accident. I can't forgive you for that, Verity. Not sorry!" Her voice sounded more cold and distant. She was smiling a fake smile and she was actually upset on her group's behalf.
She glanced over at Keegan, mulling over what she could possibly say to the girl who was another threat to the group.
"Well, well...."
She stared back over at Verity and her measly little companion of trouble.
She moved her bandaged hand over her lap and she lowered the bottle as well a little. "I don't think apologizing is going to help you here, sweetie. But what do I know about that?" She said as her eyes flickered towards the gun more and then she was looking back at Verity's face. "To be fair, it was actually me who wanted to murder you back then. No hard feelings! I was just a little too bloodthirsty, you know."
She paused and she took another sip from her bottle.
"But hurting my friends is another question. Even if shooting Keegan was an accident. I can't forgive you for that, Verity. Not sorry!" Her voice sounded more cold and distant. She was smiling a fake smile and she was actually upset on her group's behalf.
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MurderWeasel
- Posts: 3432
- Joined: Mon Aug 06, 2018 9:56 am
- Team Affiliation: Jewel's Leviathans
The aftertaste of Gatorade turned sickly. Keegan's side throbbed. He held the bottle, wide orange cap lying face-up on his leg, and wondered for an instant whether he could throw the beverage quickly and accurately enough to make a difference before it all went back to hell. The musing passed quickly—that shot would've been a test for him on his best day, standing up and uninjured. The old spherical chicken in space.
There she was again. Verity. Keegan was displeased by this development for entirely different reasons than last time. The nervousness he felt now was a whole different flavor than yesterday, when he'd broken into a hustle in the banquet hall so close by.
Back then, he'd been afraid of what his group might do to her.
One of the seagulls opened its beak and wailed. Keegan kept his lips pressed together, imagining the stickiness of the drink as glue. Just like before, this wasn't as clear-cut as it looked. They had a gun too, stashed below one of the chairs. They had numbers. Fisk and Vasily were quick. Verity couldn't be such a good shot.
Even after all that had happened, it was hard not to raise a hand and wave to her.
There she was again. Verity. Keegan was displeased by this development for entirely different reasons than last time. The nervousness he felt now was a whole different flavor than yesterday, when he'd broken into a hustle in the banquet hall so close by.
Back then, he'd been afraid of what his group might do to her.
One of the seagulls opened its beak and wailed. Keegan kept his lips pressed together, imagining the stickiness of the drink as glue. Just like before, this wasn't as clear-cut as it looked. They had a gun too, stashed below one of the chairs. They had numbers. Fisk and Vasily were quick. Verity couldn't be such a good shot.
Even after all that had happened, it was hard not to raise a hand and wave to her.
During a fucking funeral? Really?! Okay Fisk, just take it easy...
Breathe...
Breathe...
“So someone is...” Fisk turned around to face the new guest. Of all the unpleasant surprises to get. Verity. Wasn’t Ivan or Rhonda for prime soap opera dramatics, but it wasn’t some rando they could pretend to tolerate or tell to fuck off either.
Verity... The bitch shot Keegan, and now she returned to the funeral, to what? Fisk put his hand on his hip, thumb tapping the makeshift hilt of his trusty shiv. He was about to answer Vasily’s question in true Fisk fashion, but Verity was first.
She didn’t really think she could take all of them could she? If she shot Fisk, one of the others would light her up with the machine gun under the chair. If she shot one of the others instead...
Well Fisk was rather confident he could close the distance and put her eyes out with his shiv for interrupting their funeral; followed by whatever punishment is needed for shooting at them for the second time. Plus the added on punishment for shooting Keegan the first time. It would be good prelude for what’s in store for Rhonda and Ivan at least. Maybe more so if she hurt one of his friends again too. She would hurt for it regardless.
It seemed Verity wasn’t here for revenge or to start some new shit, apologizing and saying she wasn’t going to shoot again. Wanted to be safe. Yeah right. That’s a joke if Fisk ever heard one.
Bacchia was tearing into her, which was good, except right before this funeral, she’d also tore into Fisk. Something about not picking unneeded fights? Isn’t there something about taking your own advice? Do as I say not as I do or something?
Blame me for this situation going bad too, not like there’s an active threat in front of us or anything.
Suffice to say, this made him rather miffed. He snapped his fingers at Bacchia, whistled, and held his hand out in a stopping motion. The best way to deal with getting a gun pointed at you was a little guile and surprise. Not asking Verity if ‘she likes the sight of her own blood’ and walking up to her one by one to get shot in a conga line like Fallout 3 raiders.
Actually, he should’ve brought that up about the Jasper fight, seeing as they did that exact thing... No matter, not the time or place for it.
“Verity...” It took a lot of effort to hide his offense and rancor behind his voice. “You’re saying better safe than sorry, yet you’re still here. A smart person would’ve ran away.”
“Last I remembered it, you were the one who shot Keegan, before I even showed up. You had a friend with you too, where’s she?”
Was that why Verity was so brave? Was she the distraction for her friend to show up. Was this her attempt at a robbery? If she got close to grab any of their gear she’d make an excellent hostage and or bullet shield if that was the case.
Fisk leaned on the ice cream machine, one armed. His other unsheathed his shiv, hid it behind his leg. Fisk pursed his lips.
“Y’see, this all makes me curious. You know what we’re capable of. Why not leave? I’m not gonna insult your intelligence by saying you have a death wish, you were smart enough to run the first time. You know you won’t take on all of us when we close the distance if you pull that trigger, so it can’t be some form of ‘suicide by cop’ or what have you, or we both know you’d already have done it.”
Fisk felt like he did a good job hiding his anger. Verity was an enemy the moment she shot Keegan, and here she stood, in the middle of a funeral, a ceremony for respecting the dead, pointing a gun at them like she had control. The audacity of it was a little impressive.
“What do you want? What’s so important that you decided to interrupt our funeral to play proverbial chicken with a freight train?”
Breathe...
Breathe...
“So someone is...” Fisk turned around to face the new guest. Of all the unpleasant surprises to get. Verity. Wasn’t Ivan or Rhonda for prime soap opera dramatics, but it wasn’t some rando they could pretend to tolerate or tell to fuck off either.
Verity... The bitch shot Keegan, and now she returned to the funeral, to what? Fisk put his hand on his hip, thumb tapping the makeshift hilt of his trusty shiv. He was about to answer Vasily’s question in true Fisk fashion, but Verity was first.
She didn’t really think she could take all of them could she? If she shot Fisk, one of the others would light her up with the machine gun under the chair. If she shot one of the others instead...
Well Fisk was rather confident he could close the distance and put her eyes out with his shiv for interrupting their funeral; followed by whatever punishment is needed for shooting at them for the second time. Plus the added on punishment for shooting Keegan the first time. It would be good prelude for what’s in store for Rhonda and Ivan at least. Maybe more so if she hurt one of his friends again too. She would hurt for it regardless.
It seemed Verity wasn’t here for revenge or to start some new shit, apologizing and saying she wasn’t going to shoot again. Wanted to be safe. Yeah right. That’s a joke if Fisk ever heard one.
Bacchia was tearing into her, which was good, except right before this funeral, she’d also tore into Fisk. Something about not picking unneeded fights? Isn’t there something about taking your own advice? Do as I say not as I do or something?
Blame me for this situation going bad too, not like there’s an active threat in front of us or anything.
Suffice to say, this made him rather miffed. He snapped his fingers at Bacchia, whistled, and held his hand out in a stopping motion. The best way to deal with getting a gun pointed at you was a little guile and surprise. Not asking Verity if ‘she likes the sight of her own blood’ and walking up to her one by one to get shot in a conga line like Fallout 3 raiders.
Actually, he should’ve brought that up about the Jasper fight, seeing as they did that exact thing... No matter, not the time or place for it.
“Verity...” It took a lot of effort to hide his offense and rancor behind his voice. “You’re saying better safe than sorry, yet you’re still here. A smart person would’ve ran away.”
“Last I remembered it, you were the one who shot Keegan, before I even showed up. You had a friend with you too, where’s she?”
Was that why Verity was so brave? Was she the distraction for her friend to show up. Was this her attempt at a robbery? If she got close to grab any of their gear she’d make an excellent hostage and or bullet shield if that was the case.
Fisk leaned on the ice cream machine, one armed. His other unsheathed his shiv, hid it behind his leg. Fisk pursed his lips.
“Y’see, this all makes me curious. You know what we’re capable of. Why not leave? I’m not gonna insult your intelligence by saying you have a death wish, you were smart enough to run the first time. You know you won’t take on all of us when we close the distance if you pull that trigger, so it can’t be some form of ‘suicide by cop’ or what have you, or we both know you’d already have done it.”
Fisk felt like he did a good job hiding his anger. Verity was an enemy the moment she shot Keegan, and here she stood, in the middle of a funeral, a ceremony for respecting the dead, pointing a gun at them like she had control. The audacity of it was a little impressive.
“What do you want? What’s so important that you decided to interrupt our funeral to play proverbial chicken with a freight train?”
Catche thinks my squirrel is Fisk so here's my daily reminder that he is not.
So, uh. Yeah, about that- it was probably entirely Bacchia’s fault. Y'know, for trying to kill someone with a gun. When they don't have a gun.
If his life hadn't depended on it he probably would have nodded his head and went ‘yeah, true, but not everybody here has room temperature IQ’ so to be honest it’s probably within his best interests to shut up, y’know?
Yeah.
OK, ok, he could probably think a way out of this without throwing anybody under the proverbial bus (But if he absolutely had to throw anybody, it’ll be Bacchia and James.)
They have a gun too. A negotiation tool. Mutually assured destruction, yadda yadda. But if she didn’t plan to shoot she shouldn’t have pointed the gun. Verity said she didn’t plan on shooting it- so, then, that’s just as worthless as a threat as somebody with no gun at all. It’s like pointing a gun and saying it had no bullets. Nothing but an escalation tool. Verity wanted him to think she had no teeth.
And to be honest he trusted nobody in the group but Keegan and himself to not fuck this up. Fisk and Bacchia lived like this entire flotilla is their show.
He pushed a breath through his nose and stood up, slowly. (No sudden movements.)
Chose to be gentle with her- not Verity, the girl. Verity, the person holding a gun. A precaution.
“Verity, if you’re not going to shoot us, we aren’t going to shoot you, OK? Drop the gun, and we won’t reach for ours. I promise. Take a deep breath.”
Reaction.
He hated those. He wanted to be proactive.
If his life hadn't depended on it he probably would have nodded his head and went ‘yeah, true, but not everybody here has room temperature IQ’ so to be honest it’s probably within his best interests to shut up, y’know?
Yeah.
OK, ok, he could probably think a way out of this without throwing anybody under the proverbial bus (But if he absolutely had to throw anybody, it’ll be Bacchia and James.)
They have a gun too. A negotiation tool. Mutually assured destruction, yadda yadda. But if she didn’t plan to shoot she shouldn’t have pointed the gun. Verity said she didn’t plan on shooting it- so, then, that’s just as worthless as a threat as somebody with no gun at all. It’s like pointing a gun and saying it had no bullets. Nothing but an escalation tool. Verity wanted him to think she had no teeth.
And to be honest he trusted nobody in the group but Keegan and himself to not fuck this up. Fisk and Bacchia lived like this entire flotilla is their show.
He pushed a breath through his nose and stood up, slowly. (No sudden movements.)
Chose to be gentle with her- not Verity, the girl. Verity, the person holding a gun. A precaution.
“Verity, if you’re not going to shoot us, we aren’t going to shoot you, OK? Drop the gun, and we won’t reach for ours. I promise. Take a deep breath.”
Reaction.
He hated those. He wanted to be proactive.
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Wham Yubeesling
- Posts: 1256
- Joined: Mon Aug 06, 2018 9:15 pm
- Location: there is a man standing behind you
- Team Affiliation: Stephanie's Buccaneers
- Contact:
Fisk was right about one thing. He was actually right about... a lot of particular things, but one sentence deserved emphasis: the smart move would’ve been to run away. The thing he was considerably less right about, though? The use of the word ‘the.’ Replace it with ‘a,’ and suddenly, he kind of had her dead to rights. If she wanted to get into a conflict with them the people watching on their feeds or on the TV would’ve been screaming at her to do something smarter. To run away, for one. To have taken one of them out before Vasily noticed her, for the other. Either… wasn’t ideal, were being a contestant her plan: best case she was still three on one against at least two other killers. The smartest move, in all actuality, was to not be here at all — every time she tried to get to this pool there was always a bag-mask in the distance, it didn’t take a lot to figure out they were making this place their base.
But being a contestant in this game wasn’t Verity’s plan. She had her sights set on something else. The people in front of the TV could yell and scream at her all they wanted, but she’d done that thing with the collar audio for a reason. Now they didn’t know shit about her. Now they just had to sit down and deal with it when she said that attempting this was the smartest option.
“You’re right.” She kept the gun where it was. “About why I’m here. I’m not here because I want to fight you.”
She was mostly focused on Fisk and Vasily. The two closest to her. The two most likely to strike were this to become violent like Verity was imagining it would. The two with the most to offer to this attempt at conversation — Vasily had actually tried to offer Verity a chance to maybe not have to hold the gun up in their faces while Bacchia had said a bunch of stuff about how evil and badass she was which was honestly best to just ignore and Keegan had waved at her and made her feel really uncomfortable more than anything. She tried to keep her eyes off them. Focused on the front two. Didn't put the gun down — not quite safe yet — but let it waver a little. Pointed it a little less at them.
“I’m here because I want to join you.”
But being a contestant in this game wasn’t Verity’s plan. She had her sights set on something else. The people in front of the TV could yell and scream at her all they wanted, but she’d done that thing with the collar audio for a reason. Now they didn’t know shit about her. Now they just had to sit down and deal with it when she said that attempting this was the smartest option.
“You’re right.” She kept the gun where it was. “About why I’m here. I’m not here because I want to fight you.”
She was mostly focused on Fisk and Vasily. The two closest to her. The two most likely to strike were this to become violent like Verity was imagining it would. The two with the most to offer to this attempt at conversation — Vasily had actually tried to offer Verity a chance to maybe not have to hold the gun up in their faces while Bacchia had said a bunch of stuff about how evil and badass she was which was honestly best to just ignore and Keegan had waved at her and made her feel really uncomfortable more than anything. She tried to keep her eyes off them. Focused on the front two. Didn't put the gun down — not quite safe yet — but let it waver a little. Pointed it a little less at them.
“I’m here because I want to join you.”
Annnd she said she wanted to join.
OK, OK, he can handle this. Another turn, but that's just more leverage. More reason to wrap her around their pinkies. 6 5 4v1. They still have the power. It's OK. It's all fine.
She's probably lying, but if she wasn't… well, even if she wasn't, she's gotta keep it up. She's the one making requests here. She's the one who wanted something for them. And they're the ones who could choose what to give to her.
Hopefully not bullet holes.
''No, like, seriously though- put it down. At least not pointed at us. You can point it somewhere else, at least- down at the ground. Basic gun safety. Last time, someone got shot. Don't want that to happen again.”
Vasily tried his best to imitate a voice- fatherly, kind of. Authoritarian but not aggressive. He didn't really know how he achieved that. That voice of his always bothered him- the faintness of his accent, the deepness of the vague baritone, the way his mom said he sounded weird when he laughed. It took a long time for him to turn his voice into something he felt comfortable using.
He was also acutely aware of the gun at his foot
For a split second he thought about what would happen if it all went wrong.
Conversations are all give-and-take and he felt like he was doing too much taking.
Subtle rage bubbled beneath him, straining at his chest.
He took a breath.
He took a deep, deep breath.
''Give us a reason why you wanna join and why we should accept you- and not that you have a gun or you've killed before or some edgy stuff like that- 'cause we already know. Real, good reasons. Like, uh, because unfortunately you have a habit of pulling triggers and stuff.''
Low-level emotional manipulation. Guilt tripping. He wondered how long he could keep this up until she got too annoyed.
OK, OK, he can handle this. Another turn, but that's just more leverage. More reason to wrap her around their pinkies. 6 5 4v1. They still have the power. It's OK. It's all fine.
She's probably lying, but if she wasn't… well, even if she wasn't, she's gotta keep it up. She's the one making requests here. She's the one who wanted something for them. And they're the ones who could choose what to give to her.
Hopefully not bullet holes.
''No, like, seriously though- put it down. At least not pointed at us. You can point it somewhere else, at least- down at the ground. Basic gun safety. Last time, someone got shot. Don't want that to happen again.”
Vasily tried his best to imitate a voice- fatherly, kind of. Authoritarian but not aggressive. He didn't really know how he achieved that. That voice of his always bothered him- the faintness of his accent, the deepness of the vague baritone, the way his mom said he sounded weird when he laughed. It took a long time for him to turn his voice into something he felt comfortable using.
He was also acutely aware of the gun at his foot
For a split second he thought about what would happen if it all went wrong.
Conversations are all give-and-take and he felt like he was doing too much taking.
Subtle rage bubbled beneath him, straining at his chest.
He took a breath.
He took a deep, deep breath.
''Give us a reason why you wanna join and why we should accept you- and not that you have a gun or you've killed before or some edgy stuff like that- 'cause we already know. Real, good reasons. Like, uh, because unfortunately you have a habit of pulling triggers and stuff.''
Low-level emotional manipulation. Guilt tripping. He wondered how long he could keep this up until she got too annoyed.