((BCO4 - Anthony Golden - Start))
Anthony's eyes gasped open. For a few seconds, he could pretend to himself that everything was fine. That he was back home in bed, watching Tottenham kick Chelsea's fucking ass. That was how they had gotten him, hadn't they? Popped out to the shop for some popcorn and snacks for the whole family to enjoy, and he gets shoved into a van and gassed. How did they even allow that? Eh, it’s not like people cared for the law in this country.
But of course, this wasn't what he was thinking about when his eyes opened. No, what he was thinking about was the sheer amount of terror he felt at the moment. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. This was the worst possible outcome- no, this was impossibly bad. He was Anthony Golden. He wasn't some fucking meat to die on a show in a foreign country for the entertainment of others, no. That was something he'd protested about, out at the Embassy in London. Never, in all his deepest nightmares, had he ever thought he would end up on this fucking show.
It took a lot of his willpower to not burst out crying, honestly. To put it lightly, this was upsetting. The British way of understating things, he thought. It didn't seem very humourous now, what with his- oh god, his family. They were gonna be watching. All his buddies back in London, oh fuck.
"Shit." His first words on the show were not polite. They were repeated by several other words. "Fohk, fohk, fohk..." He could feel himself shaking. His accent was slipping through. This was not fine. This was not good. Was he having a panic attack? Was this what a panic attack even like? Oh god, how did he fucking know? He was a wannabe EMT, not a psychologist or whoever the fuck did that kinda shit.
Right. Right. Taking steady, calm breaths - that was what the guys at St. John's always said to do when you had a panic attack, take deep breaths - Anthony took the opportunity to examine the room. It was a fancy ass bedroom. Big, comfortable bed, Nice, smooth wooden furnishings. Bullets in the- bullets in the wall. Bulletholes. Whatever, he didn't particularly have time to debate the fucking English language. Clasping his hands together, he murmured a quick prayer. There wasn't exactly much time to think about what to say, so he just went with his heart.
"Dear God, I know this may be presumptious of me when there are so many other people here, but I need Your guidance. Please, I-" His voice cracked, and he had a brief thought: What if he didn't get out of here? What if he was... No. No, don't think about that. No. You're gonna live Anthony, you're going to fucking live.
"I... As a humble follower, I beg your 'elp, my Lord. Please, 'elp me make it off this 'ell'ole of a boat, of a televised show, with my life intact, and I will repay it back tenfold. Charity, volunteerin', the lot. In your precious name, amen." As he finished his prayer, Anthony finally noticed the bag sitting on the foot of the bed. Frantically, he snatched it, ripping it open and pulling out-
A fake beard. It was a fucking red one. He wasn't even ginger. Was this- was it a joke? A fucking joke? It's not like he had wanted a gun, something he could use to kill someone- maybe he had wanted something for self defence, but it was a beard! A fucking beard, for god's sake! This was a fucking travesty! Whenever he got out of here, Anthony was going to fucking rip someone a new asshole.
"Fohking arsehole producer cunts, I swear to fohking God I'm gonna rip their fohking asshole like a piece a fohking paper!" Anthony ranted as he continued to look through the bag. A decent first aid kit. Good, he could patch his bullet wounds up for when some murderous player inevitably shot him like the psycho they were. This led him to thinking about who might play. Vasily? Maybe. Leah. God, no. He... he hoped she dies quickly. No pain. Fisk? Maybe. Every super fan was a threat. Hopefully they all killed one another off. It wasn't charitable thinking, but Anthony was angry. Angry at the people who had concepted this game, angry at the government for not stopping this, and angry at the person who gave him this sodding mask! Good food. Lots of fishy food. Where were they? A hotel? A boat? Cruise ship? Who the fuck knows. They could have given them the decency of a fucking solid place to die on.
And the bandana. He wasn't wearing one of those around his head. So instead, he wrapped it around his left arm loosely. In a bad case, it could be used as a tourniquet. The flashlight, an improvised weapon. It was sturdy, and if you thwacked someone with it, it would give them a real sore head. A condom. Ugh. A.. what the fuck was that? Was that a fucking Guy Fawkes constume? Sighing, he tossed it out of his bag, where it lay in a lump on the floor. Sextant and map. He had no idea how to use this.
And that was it. He briefly considered downing the alcohol to steel his nerves, but getting drunk wouldn't do anything for him. No, sobriety was the way to survive.
Rise, Rapture, Rise
A rude awakening. Private.
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Applesintime
- Posts: 836
- Joined: Sat Jul 04, 2020 11:57 am
- Team Affiliation: Ben's Crabs
Somewhere in the world, a pile of will-be-rotting flesh stirred, jerking and twitching, the final movements of humans and crushed spiders laying down in the corner alike. Slowly, her mind pulled itself out of the fog.
(Leah Hemingway began her game.)
In some vague recess in her mind, she knew she was dead. If not as a living being, then as a person with her own individual thoughts and ideals. But for now, all she did was to slowly pull herself out of her slump, wobbly legs forming into a kneel as she yawned. She could be crying, she could be screaming, in fact, she could even be laughing, but instead she just sighed and slumped down again. Her eye trained onto the camera, trained onto her, a surrogate for the audience.
It haunted her that they probably wouldn’t see her, edited and spliced and filtered to perfection, until the maggots were eating her flesh and boring holes into her actual body. She would never know what these people thought of her when they tried to spin her last moments into some sort of plot or story because she would be rotting and melting and purifying into plant fuel. Her body would be cut into, shot, poisoned, broken in some way or another and it would no longer be her body but a toy for public entertainment and a subject of trivia games and plastic merchandise, plastic made from dead bodies and old bones.
She still couldn’t get over the injustice of it all. Was it an honor or an injustice? Why? Why her? Why, out of all the possible replacements for her, a million other students who would now do nothing but watch her last moments but bliss, was she the one laying down here? She wasn’t important, she wasn’t interesting, she wasn’t anything but another piece of meat to pump their numbers up.
She’s always been a piece of meat. Everything that ever happened in her life, everything that she did and thought and went through, it all led to here. A collar around her neck, a bag containing everything she needed in the rest of her life besides her, slumped onto the ground. Everything she planned for her future was useless. She’s thought about her own death before, but she had always dismissed it as something far away. It always involved some sort of closure. She wanted to have her closure. She wanted to have the rest of her life.
But she couldn’t, and she felt as if winning would simply kill her, too, mentally.
A voice lulled her outside of her mind. Cursing. Anthony. More cursing. Finally, she could process what she was hearing. He’s a good boy, and he’s also a big of a stupid and irrational one, and he’s also a brave one who chucks soda cans at alligators.
Maybe he could channel that anger somewhere on the island.
So here she was, a crossbow on her hand. Bandanna around her arm. Ready to disappoint Jewel.
She should realistically be attacking, but the panic that set in informed her that she was fucked, and that there was no chance to survive, that she should just take the crossbow and aim it at herself and end it before someone else does, but that peculiar little thing called thanatophobia stopped her, so instead she shook and held back sobs as she approached the Alligator Anthony.
(Leah Hemingway began her game.)
In some vague recess in her mind, she knew she was dead. If not as a living being, then as a person with her own individual thoughts and ideals. But for now, all she did was to slowly pull herself out of her slump, wobbly legs forming into a kneel as she yawned. She could be crying, she could be screaming, in fact, she could even be laughing, but instead she just sighed and slumped down again. Her eye trained onto the camera, trained onto her, a surrogate for the audience.
It haunted her that they probably wouldn’t see her, edited and spliced and filtered to perfection, until the maggots were eating her flesh and boring holes into her actual body. She would never know what these people thought of her when they tried to spin her last moments into some sort of plot or story because she would be rotting and melting and purifying into plant fuel. Her body would be cut into, shot, poisoned, broken in some way or another and it would no longer be her body but a toy for public entertainment and a subject of trivia games and plastic merchandise, plastic made from dead bodies and old bones.
She still couldn’t get over the injustice of it all. Was it an honor or an injustice? Why? Why her? Why, out of all the possible replacements for her, a million other students who would now do nothing but watch her last moments but bliss, was she the one laying down here? She wasn’t important, she wasn’t interesting, she wasn’t anything but another piece of meat to pump their numbers up.
She’s always been a piece of meat. Everything that ever happened in her life, everything that she did and thought and went through, it all led to here. A collar around her neck, a bag containing everything she needed in the rest of her life besides her, slumped onto the ground. Everything she planned for her future was useless. She’s thought about her own death before, but she had always dismissed it as something far away. It always involved some sort of closure. She wanted to have her closure. She wanted to have the rest of her life.
But she couldn’t, and she felt as if winning would simply kill her, too, mentally.
A voice lulled her outside of her mind. Cursing. Anthony. More cursing. Finally, she could process what she was hearing. He’s a good boy, and he’s also a big of a stupid and irrational one, and he’s also a brave one who chucks soda cans at alligators.
Maybe he could channel that anger somewhere on the island.
So here she was, a crossbow on her hand. Bandanna around her arm. Ready to disappoint Jewel.
She should realistically be attacking, but the panic that set in informed her that she was fucked, and that there was no chance to survive, that she should just take the crossbow and aim it at herself and end it before someone else does, but that peculiar little thing called thanatophobia stopped her, so instead she shook and held back sobs as she approached the Alligator Anthony.
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ciphermitarai
- Posts: 97
- Joined: Tue Jun 02, 2020 12:06 am
- Location: lost in junpei's forehead
- Team Affiliation: Claudia's Krakens
- Contact:
((CK07 - Lucia Cuevas Valdez - Start))
The world was ending, and Lucia’s first fear was that she might be late.
True, it wasn’t a thing that a girl like her normally worried about. Yet she must blame the sudden, rising sparks of fear on something, right? Not like it took her long to remember. Not like it took her long to realize she’d never have to worry about being late at all!
It felt like a stab to the waist, a stamp to the heart, a slap in the face electrified. God. Just one more year and she and Reyna—she and Reyna would’ve been through that trial. Her mom. Oh, her mom would hate her. Mom, mom, “You brought this upon you by liking it!” mom.
She had worse things to worry about than a woman who was so gloriously safe right now.
Shit, fuck, just get up before they take you out. Her mind sped before her body, which began its sluggish ascent. Hands, feet, up. You cannot afford to look weak! Still, her body shifted, swaying side to side, almost precariously—before she made it up. Ugh, don’t hurl. That’s a bad sign. They couldn’t—she’s inside?
Walls. Floor. Bed. Lucia could hardly survey the room before another thought hit her. Vasily… no, she couldn’t worry about him right now. They’d meet up later. He could survive. He knows strategies, he… oh, she must look nuts, now, reaching down to clutch the bag near her with uncharacteristically wide eyes, scanning the… Calm your nerves, girl, you need allies! She needs them. But first, a way to strengthen herself.
She opened it quick, rifling through. Nothing that looked like a bomb to her. Thank God. But there’s a… there’s a meat cleaver in there? A meat cleaver! That’s way better than—than the one—in her haze, she couldn’t remember the one, the unconventional-weapon handler. No. She had to be first. That didn't matter. Moving early... that means you'll survive. And forgoing the need for a clear head, she staggered out of the room, weapon in slowly steadying hand.
The next one, someone should be awake in there, right? Someone she can team up with. Someone who… probably didn’t hate her. Plus, she heard cursing from there, clearly they’re not planning a surprise. Are they? Ah, whatever, risk-takers never win! They can’t…
She barely recognized the people in there, which she took as a blessing. They wouldn’t kill her right away, right? She hardly even stopped to consider, in the moment, that seeing a cleaver-wielding girl enter the room where you just woke up might be terrifying. She rapidly raised her arm in surrender, despite hardly even registering what was in there. Lucia just couldn’t afford to overthink. Not even the themes of irony she'd make a video on any other day—there was just no time for that.
The director had become the actor.
The world was ending, and Lucia’s first fear was that she might be late.
True, it wasn’t a thing that a girl like her normally worried about. Yet she must blame the sudden, rising sparks of fear on something, right? Not like it took her long to remember. Not like it took her long to realize she’d never have to worry about being late at all!
It felt like a stab to the waist, a stamp to the heart, a slap in the face electrified. God. Just one more year and she and Reyna—she and Reyna would’ve been through that trial. Her mom. Oh, her mom would hate her. Mom, mom, “You brought this upon you by liking it!” mom.
She had worse things to worry about than a woman who was so gloriously safe right now.
Shit, fuck, just get up before they take you out. Her mind sped before her body, which began its sluggish ascent. Hands, feet, up. You cannot afford to look weak! Still, her body shifted, swaying side to side, almost precariously—before she made it up. Ugh, don’t hurl. That’s a bad sign. They couldn’t—she’s inside?
Walls. Floor. Bed. Lucia could hardly survey the room before another thought hit her. Vasily… no, she couldn’t worry about him right now. They’d meet up later. He could survive. He knows strategies, he… oh, she must look nuts, now, reaching down to clutch the bag near her with uncharacteristically wide eyes, scanning the… Calm your nerves, girl, you need allies! She needs them. But first, a way to strengthen herself.
She opened it quick, rifling through. Nothing that looked like a bomb to her. Thank God. But there’s a… there’s a meat cleaver in there? A meat cleaver! That’s way better than—than the one—in her haze, she couldn’t remember the one, the unconventional-weapon handler. No. She had to be first. That didn't matter. Moving early... that means you'll survive. And forgoing the need for a clear head, she staggered out of the room, weapon in slowly steadying hand.
The next one, someone should be awake in there, right? Someone she can team up with. Someone who… probably didn’t hate her. Plus, she heard cursing from there, clearly they’re not planning a surprise. Are they? Ah, whatever, risk-takers never win! They can’t…
She barely recognized the people in there, which she took as a blessing. They wouldn’t kill her right away, right? She hardly even stopped to consider, in the moment, that seeing a cleaver-wielding girl enter the room where you just woke up might be terrifying. She rapidly raised her arm in surrender, despite hardly even registering what was in there. Lucia just couldn’t afford to overthink. Not even the themes of irony she'd make a video on any other day—there was just no time for that.
The director had become the actor.
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Somersault
- Posts: 236
- Joined: Wed Aug 08, 2018 9:21 am
((MM11 - Hailey Thompson - Start))
"Hey guys!"
Oooh, Hailey was regretting how happy that sounded. She wasn't happy. Nothing about this could be happy. Because murder generally wasn't a happy thing and Hailey was not going to deviate from that notion. Not now, not ever, even if these next few days could really potentially those moments she was ever going to get. Which okay, was quitter talk, and the Lord was not about that, but she also felt like she could say with 99% certainty the Lord was also not about having her here, and yet here she was, so yeah.
She gripped the straps of her backpack even tighter then, eyes moving from Anthony to to Lucia to Leah and then the crossbow in Leah's hand, which, again, not a great start, but Hailey was just going to have to try to keep on truckin'. Of course, she'd managed to truck herself right into this by deciding to pop out of the dining room in which she woke up because heard prayer, because prayer was usually Good with a capital G and then she was here where everyone seemed very much on edge and that was not Good with a capital G. Bad with a capital B, perhaps, but in no way what she was looking for. What she was looking for, though?
That was still a mystery.
"So, well," Hailey started, tugging on the bandana around her neck as she tried to make some conversation. "How're you guys adjusting?"
This was not working.
"Hey guys!"
Oooh, Hailey was regretting how happy that sounded. She wasn't happy. Nothing about this could be happy. Because murder generally wasn't a happy thing and Hailey was not going to deviate from that notion. Not now, not ever, even if these next few days could really potentially those moments she was ever going to get. Which okay, was quitter talk, and the Lord was not about that, but she also felt like she could say with 99% certainty the Lord was also not about having her here, and yet here she was, so yeah.
She gripped the straps of her backpack even tighter then, eyes moving from Anthony to to Lucia to Leah and then the crossbow in Leah's hand, which, again, not a great start, but Hailey was just going to have to try to keep on truckin'. Of course, she'd managed to truck herself right into this by deciding to pop out of the dining room in which she woke up because heard prayer, because prayer was usually Good with a capital G and then she was here where everyone seemed very much on edge and that was not Good with a capital G. Bad with a capital B, perhaps, but in no way what she was looking for. What she was looking for, though?
That was still a mystery.
"So, well," Hailey started, tugging on the bandana around her neck as she tried to make some conversation. "How're you guys adjusting?"
This was not working.
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carduinal-cyn
- Posts: 324
- Joined: Sun Oct 11, 2020 5:56 pm
- Team Affiliation: Emmy's Selkies
((ES11 - Olivia del Rio - Start))
In her last few moments of semi-unconsciousness, Olivia felt around for a pillow and found a bullet hole in the wall. Her eyes snapped open, and she withdrew her hand. A cursory glance at the skin showed no signs of any offending splinters. She breathed a sigh of relief. Worrying about a sharp little piece of wood in your finger is a terrible way to start a game of life or death, after all.
Against all her hopes of waking up next to a brightly twittering Holly, she had found herself in the bedroom of a yacht along with four of her classmates. Olivia glanced around the room, mentally noting the names she remembered. Anthony. Leah. Lucia. Hailey. At least she knew that last one well enough. They'd been friends—well, friendly enough—throughout her years at Mangrove Garden. Hailey's smile was as infectious as her own, she knew. Olivia counted this as a blessing; the cruel architects of this show could easily have thrown her together with someone much less pleasant, like Nate or Bacchia, or, heaven forbid, Junji Yamada.
She rifled through the backpack at her feet, hoping that she'd been given a suitable weapon. A nice pistol, maybe a knife. Even her lacrosse stick might serve her well in a pinch— she figured she could wield it deftly enough. The contents inside all seemed fairly standard: food, flashlight, first-aid kit, an awful lot of white clothing (somebody, she thought with distaste, probably thought she'd win a wet T-shirt contest), a map, a weird-looking mechanical doohickey she didn't recognize, and a condom, which she decided she'd use if she absolutely needed to blow off steam and there was somebody willing (and cute) nearby.
No weapons. Olivia wrinkled her nose in further distaste. Surely they'd remembered to give her something! Alas, the final item left in her inventory was a copy of a book. It didn't matter that its author had killed ten people - she despised reading, and she wouldn't be caught dead doing it in front of four other people. "How the hell do they think this qualifies as a weapon?" she muttered under her breath before stuffing it back inside.
In her last few moments of semi-unconsciousness, Olivia felt around for a pillow and found a bullet hole in the wall. Her eyes snapped open, and she withdrew her hand. A cursory glance at the skin showed no signs of any offending splinters. She breathed a sigh of relief. Worrying about a sharp little piece of wood in your finger is a terrible way to start a game of life or death, after all.
Against all her hopes of waking up next to a brightly twittering Holly, she had found herself in the bedroom of a yacht along with four of her classmates. Olivia glanced around the room, mentally noting the names she remembered. Anthony. Leah. Lucia. Hailey. At least she knew that last one well enough. They'd been friends—well, friendly enough—throughout her years at Mangrove Garden. Hailey's smile was as infectious as her own, she knew. Olivia counted this as a blessing; the cruel architects of this show could easily have thrown her together with someone much less pleasant, like Nate or Bacchia, or, heaven forbid, Junji Yamada.
She rifled through the backpack at her feet, hoping that she'd been given a suitable weapon. A nice pistol, maybe a knife. Even her lacrosse stick might serve her well in a pinch— she figured she could wield it deftly enough. The contents inside all seemed fairly standard: food, flashlight, first-aid kit, an awful lot of white clothing (somebody, she thought with distaste, probably thought she'd win a wet T-shirt contest), a map, a weird-looking mechanical doohickey she didn't recognize, and a condom, which she decided she'd use if she absolutely needed to blow off steam and there was somebody willing (and cute) nearby.
No weapons. Olivia wrinkled her nose in further distaste. Surely they'd remembered to give her something! Alas, the final item left in her inventory was a copy of a book. It didn't matter that its author had killed ten people - she despised reading, and she wouldn't be caught dead doing it in front of four other people. "How the hell do they think this qualifies as a weapon?" she muttered under her breath before stuffing it back inside.
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Applesintime
- Posts: 836
- Joined: Sat Jul 04, 2020 11:57 am
- Team Affiliation: Ben's Crabs
Oh boy, there were a lot of people here, He had been so caught up in the plight of his stupid fucking fake beard weapon thing that he had forgotten to note that yes, there were in fact several other people here. Roughly... three or four, to be precise. Olivia del Rio, a bubby girl he had talked to once or twice, Hailey Thompson, someone who was probably more religious than him, Lucia... whatever the fuck her second name was, and - Leah! A dirty part of his mind cracked a joke - four girls and a boy alone in a bedroom, huh?
He ignored it. Now was certainly not the fucking time or place for this shit. Lucia had a cleaver. Leah had a crossbow. He had a mask and Olivia had a book. If they decided "hey let's kill these guys", there wouldn't really be much defence, would there? Or, actually... use the pillow as a shield. Knock one of them down, take their weapon and-
Wait, why the fuck is he thinking about this? That's not going to happen. Leah is the kindest girl he knows, and he's not exactly going to see her killing. Or Lucia. Or, anyone here, really. This was... peaceful. A brief reprieve before they all died.
"Tell me 'bout it. Fuckers gave me this-" Briefly addresing Olivia, Anthony raised the red fake beard he had been given, shaking it about before tossing it over his shoulder, where it floated down to the bed. "Stupid fake fucking beard. Piece of shit producers. Oughta be fucking tried for their crimes against humanity with this shit!" For a brief second, Anthony let the underlying rage he felt flow through him, before he caught himself and simmered down. Looking angry and threatening was a bad idea.
"Shittily, Hailey. Absolutely fuckin' chuffed. I'm gonna die on a piece of shit boat that looks like it's been through an average day at your local American high school = Shot to fucking pieces." Gesturing angrily at the wall with his right hand, his other arm moved to sling the bag over his left shoulder as he stood up from the bed, cracking his neck with an appreciative groan. How fucking long had they been out? Two, three days? He didn't know. Oh shit, had he missed the match? Did Tottenham beat those fuckers in Chelsea? God, he hoped so.
And now Leah was approaching him. Man, she looked... man, she looked really fucked up. Anthony couldn't blame her. He was feeling scared, frightened. Alone. But he had just channeled that towards righteous anger at the pricks who were behind this whole scheme. He lowered his voice a little, not wanting to accidentally startle her.
"Hey, uh, you OK Leah? You look... worried." Could he blame her? This whole fucking thing was worrying.
He ignored it. Now was certainly not the fucking time or place for this shit. Lucia had a cleaver. Leah had a crossbow. He had a mask and Olivia had a book. If they decided "hey let's kill these guys", there wouldn't really be much defence, would there? Or, actually... use the pillow as a shield. Knock one of them down, take their weapon and-
Wait, why the fuck is he thinking about this? That's not going to happen. Leah is the kindest girl he knows, and he's not exactly going to see her killing. Or Lucia. Or, anyone here, really. This was... peaceful. A brief reprieve before they all died.
"Tell me 'bout it. Fuckers gave me this-" Briefly addresing Olivia, Anthony raised the red fake beard he had been given, shaking it about before tossing it over his shoulder, where it floated down to the bed. "Stupid fake fucking beard. Piece of shit producers. Oughta be fucking tried for their crimes against humanity with this shit!" For a brief second, Anthony let the underlying rage he felt flow through him, before he caught himself and simmered down. Looking angry and threatening was a bad idea.
"Shittily, Hailey. Absolutely fuckin' chuffed. I'm gonna die on a piece of shit boat that looks like it's been through an average day at your local American high school = Shot to fucking pieces." Gesturing angrily at the wall with his right hand, his other arm moved to sling the bag over his left shoulder as he stood up from the bed, cracking his neck with an appreciative groan. How fucking long had they been out? Two, three days? He didn't know. Oh shit, had he missed the match? Did Tottenham beat those fuckers in Chelsea? God, he hoped so.
And now Leah was approaching him. Man, she looked... man, she looked really fucked up. Anthony couldn't blame her. He was feeling scared, frightened. Alone. But he had just channeled that towards righteous anger at the pricks who were behind this whole scheme. He lowered his voice a little, not wanting to accidentally startle her.
"Hey, uh, you OK Leah? You look... worried." Could he blame her? This whole fucking thing was worrying.
Well, an irrational part of her thought as the people poured in, she could probably kill everyone in here. Olivia had a book (which she did quite want, if it could take her mind off of things,) Anthony had a beard, Hailey didn't have anything visible, and Lucia had a meat cleaver, which is kind of short range. Shoot Lucia with the crossbow, grab her cleaver, and get the other two- Maybe Anthony first, since he's the biggest, or Hailey since she might be hiding something-
But she’s a nice person, so she wouldn’t do that. She wouldn’t do any of that, because she was weak and a coward and she felt like they probably deserved better than that. They all did. Hailey asked them how they’re adjusting, and the truth was that they weren’t adjusting at all. If they were, there would be people dead already. In actuality, there was a chance there are people dead already, so, like, she meant that people would be dead in this room. Which they weren’t, or at least they aren’t dead now. Everyone dies eventually, it’s just that they’re all dying a little earlier, a lot earlier, so they’ll miss out on things like marriage and prom and whatever people like to do with other people. Leah wondered if Hailey was actually this positive, or if she’s just masking the fear and anxiety within her, just like how she was holding her trembles back.
After a vague amount of time passed, she replied to the question Anthony presented. “I’m… um, kind of not OK right now but everyone’s not OK right now, right? I’m worried. I’m worried that I’m going to die, and I’m worried that the people that don’t die really didn’t deserve to not die.”
She raised the crossbow. She couldn’t talk with words, and she could talk with actions even less well, but her measly voice was worth less than a loaded weapon aimed directly at a boy, even with no intent behind it.
“I, um, I really, really appreciate the whole alligator thing, alright? I- you deserved better than this, Anthony. And, um, the rest of you here, too…” She trailed off. Her train of thought trailed off, too. She couldn’t build the train tracks anymore. She couldn’t hide anymore.
A tear rolled off of her face. She wondered if she was pathetic right now, and then stopped wondering because she truly was pathetic. Leah hoped that they understood her. She hoped that they could stop her before her actions became intentions.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry I’m just really having a lot of thoughts right now and I just hope the best for all of you but I don’t know what that means anymore.”
But she’s a nice person, so she wouldn’t do that. She wouldn’t do any of that, because she was weak and a coward and she felt like they probably deserved better than that. They all did. Hailey asked them how they’re adjusting, and the truth was that they weren’t adjusting at all. If they were, there would be people dead already. In actuality, there was a chance there are people dead already, so, like, she meant that people would be dead in this room. Which they weren’t, or at least they aren’t dead now. Everyone dies eventually, it’s just that they’re all dying a little earlier, a lot earlier, so they’ll miss out on things like marriage and prom and whatever people like to do with other people. Leah wondered if Hailey was actually this positive, or if she’s just masking the fear and anxiety within her, just like how she was holding her trembles back.
After a vague amount of time passed, she replied to the question Anthony presented. “I’m… um, kind of not OK right now but everyone’s not OK right now, right? I’m worried. I’m worried that I’m going to die, and I’m worried that the people that don’t die really didn’t deserve to not die.”
She raised the crossbow. She couldn’t talk with words, and she could talk with actions even less well, but her measly voice was worth less than a loaded weapon aimed directly at a boy, even with no intent behind it.
“I, um, I really, really appreciate the whole alligator thing, alright? I- you deserved better than this, Anthony. And, um, the rest of you here, too…” She trailed off. Her train of thought trailed off, too. She couldn’t build the train tracks anymore. She couldn’t hide anymore.
A tear rolled off of her face. She wondered if she was pathetic right now, and then stopped wondering because she truly was pathetic. Leah hoped that they understood her. She hoped that they could stop her before her actions became intentions.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry I’m just really having a lot of thoughts right now and I just hope the best for all of you but I don’t know what that means anymore.”
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ciphermitarai
- Posts: 97
- Joined: Tue Jun 02, 2020 12:06 am
- Location: lost in junpei's forehead
- Team Affiliation: Claudia's Krakens
- Contact:
They are... uncomfortably calm. Momentarily distracted in a second she’d regret if she got the chance to, Lucia took in Hailey and Olivia for the first time. Olivia was an acquaintance, she wouldn’t do anything... maybe. Hailey, she just wasn’t sure what to think of. Either way, they were both there, and she had to make the most of that.
After the silence passed, her eyes locked onto Leah again. Not that she’d expected her to be stable from the start, but Lucia herself was running only on borrowed time, mind now streamlined towards one goal: not fucking dying. And wouldn’t you know, a raised crossbow would probably get in the way of that plan!
She had to do a double take—her hold on the cleaver only tightened as the crossbow moved, ready to duck back out and into the hall. And yet. She wasn’t a coward, no. Her voice cracked, open for the first time since coming here, beginning to regain control of it all. Her body, her words.
“Please... don’t point that...” came Lucia’s voice, laced with fear and yet doing its best to be soothing. “I promise I won’t hurt you, okay...? If you hope for the best, then don’t hurt—” and on that word her forearm went right up to shield her face— “us. Please don’t put that—that guilt on yourself.”
Fucking death flag. Why? Why did I even talk?
She had better pull this off.
After the silence passed, her eyes locked onto Leah again. Not that she’d expected her to be stable from the start, but Lucia herself was running only on borrowed time, mind now streamlined towards one goal: not fucking dying. And wouldn’t you know, a raised crossbow would probably get in the way of that plan!
She had to do a double take—her hold on the cleaver only tightened as the crossbow moved, ready to duck back out and into the hall. And yet. She wasn’t a coward, no. Her voice cracked, open for the first time since coming here, beginning to regain control of it all. Her body, her words.
“Please... don’t point that...” came Lucia’s voice, laced with fear and yet doing its best to be soothing. “I promise I won’t hurt you, okay...? If you hope for the best, then don’t hurt—” and on that word her forearm went right up to shield her face— “us. Please don’t put that—that guilt on yourself.”
Fucking death flag. Why? Why did I even talk?
She had better pull this off.
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Primrosette
- Posts: 896
- Joined: Wed Aug 08, 2018 1:59 pm
- Location: In Her Dark Abyss
((JL05 - Beau Lively - Start))
"Ack...!"
Beau was standing out in the hallway as he was listening to what was going on and he felt himself shifting on his feet lightly, humming a song that Al had wrote about a month ago or so to calm his senses. He clicked his tongue to focus on the scene in the room. There seemed to be a few people in there and it sounds like they were a bit panicky in there.
Well, are you going to do something about it, you quirky idiot?
"Hey...! Helllooo?!"
His cheerful voice was booming just outside the room, smiling as a coping mechanism. He was scared as heck but they didn't need to know that. He just needed to not run in like a moron and get himself killed for a stupid action. He knew that he had be as smarty-smart as he could be about this.
"Hi, hi! I come in peace, guys! So uh.... I rather not die instantly, thank you very much!" He waved a hand into the room, his bandanna was tied around his left arm and he slightly peeked his head into the intense-on-intense room that could flame him into ashes. "You guys coolie-cool and all that jazzy-jazz...?"
"Ack...!"
Beau was standing out in the hallway as he was listening to what was going on and he felt himself shifting on his feet lightly, humming a song that Al had wrote about a month ago or so to calm his senses. He clicked his tongue to focus on the scene in the room. There seemed to be a few people in there and it sounds like they were a bit panicky in there.
Well, are you going to do something about it, you quirky idiot?
"Hey...! Helllooo?!"
His cheerful voice was booming just outside the room, smiling as a coping mechanism. He was scared as heck but they didn't need to know that. He just needed to not run in like a moron and get himself killed for a stupid action. He knew that he had be as smarty-smart as he could be about this.
"Hi, hi! I come in peace, guys! So uh.... I rather not die instantly, thank you very much!" He waved a hand into the room, his bandanna was tied around his left arm and he slightly peeked his head into the intense-on-intense room that could flame him into ashes. "You guys coolie-cool and all that jazzy-jazz...?"
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Somersault
- Posts: 236
- Joined: Wed Aug 08, 2018 9:21 am
"You're all very valid, guys."
Honestly, Hailey was approaching a loss for words here, because the situation right about now seemed very likely to escalate. While normally that would just mean fighting with a chance of detention, here, that meant fighting with.a chance of death or grievous injury, and while Hailey totally wouldn't want to be on the giving end of any such violence, she wasn't particularly in love with the idea of being on the receiving end of it either. Frankly, part of her mind was wondering why she hadn't reacted worse to the...situation. That kind of felt that she was jinxing herself and that she would totally melt down at some other point, but really, she was somehow not doing that. Really, she was being the very model of a Girl Scout Ambassador. The 38th Troop representing southern Miami-Dade County would've been so proud.
There wasn't much time for self-congratulation, though, not when girl with cleaver (Lucia) and girl with crossbow (Leah) both seemed pretty on edge, particularly with Olivia and Anthony trying to help with the whole "please don't kill each other now" thing. Because really, the goal was, well, to not do that. That'd be very nice, and so, was it really un-Christian of her to just take a few steps back, giving her space to get out of the bedroom if something did go down? She was trying her best, after all. It was just being sensible.
Beau was also here, great, someone nice, yeah, that was good. "We're just..having a talk. All there is to this."
She was still trying. Just didn't want to end up the martyr just yet.
Honestly, Hailey was approaching a loss for words here, because the situation right about now seemed very likely to escalate. While normally that would just mean fighting with a chance of detention, here, that meant fighting with.a chance of death or grievous injury, and while Hailey totally wouldn't want to be on the giving end of any such violence, she wasn't particularly in love with the idea of being on the receiving end of it either. Frankly, part of her mind was wondering why she hadn't reacted worse to the...situation. That kind of felt that she was jinxing herself and that she would totally melt down at some other point, but really, she was somehow not doing that. Really, she was being the very model of a Girl Scout Ambassador. The 38th Troop representing southern Miami-Dade County would've been so proud.
There wasn't much time for self-congratulation, though, not when girl with cleaver (Lucia) and girl with crossbow (Leah) both seemed pretty on edge, particularly with Olivia and Anthony trying to help with the whole "please don't kill each other now" thing. Because really, the goal was, well, to not do that. That'd be very nice, and so, was it really un-Christian of her to just take a few steps back, giving her space to get out of the bedroom if something did go down? She was trying her best, after all. It was just being sensible.
Beau was also here, great, someone nice, yeah, that was good. "We're just..having a talk. All there is to this."
She was still trying. Just didn't want to end up the martyr just yet.
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carduinal-cyn
- Posts: 324
- Joined: Sun Oct 11, 2020 5:56 pm
- Team Affiliation: Emmy's Selkies
At the sight of Anthony's fake nautical beard, Olivia slapped her hand over her mouth in an effort to keep herself from laughing. Those efforts immediately failed. "Pfffft!" she sputtered. Then, the lone boy in the room launched into an expletive-filled rant, and the chuckle she was having at his expense quickly faded. A quick reply of "yikes" was all Olivia could bring herself to say in response to Anthony's rage. He's going to get himself killed if he keeps talking like that, she thought.
Leah raised her weapon, and instead of being rooted to the ground in fear of what the meek girl might do, a pang of jealousy flashed through Olivia instead. They let LEAH get a crossbow? she grumbled in her head, her brown eyes trained on the Little Joe in the gardener girl's hand. What the heck! Can I trade with her!?
The pressure mounting in her head to react — girl with crossbow, girl with cleaver — abated for just a moment when Beau Lively's mop of blue hair poked inside the yacht. "Hey Beau!" she called, relieved to see another person she could call a friend. "Y... yep, we're just talking! Nothing to see here, no crossbows or cleavers or anything like that!" As Olivia implicitly warned her fun-loving prankster buddy of the dangers present, she pondered whether the staff of SOTF had been kind to him, or whether they had decided to hand him a "weapon" as equally useless as her book and Anthony's beard.
Leah raised her weapon, and instead of being rooted to the ground in fear of what the meek girl might do, a pang of jealousy flashed through Olivia instead. They let LEAH get a crossbow? she grumbled in her head, her brown eyes trained on the Little Joe in the gardener girl's hand. What the heck! Can I trade with her!?
The pressure mounting in her head to react — girl with crossbow, girl with cleaver — abated for just a moment when Beau Lively's mop of blue hair poked inside the yacht. "Hey Beau!" she called, relieved to see another person she could call a friend. "Y... yep, we're just talking! Nothing to see here, no crossbows or cleavers or anything like that!" As Olivia implicitly warned her fun-loving prankster buddy of the dangers present, she pondered whether the staff of SOTF had been kind to him, or whether they had decided to hand him a "weapon" as equally useless as her book and Anthony's beard.
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Applesintime
- Posts: 836
- Joined: Sat Jul 04, 2020 11:57 am
- Team Affiliation: Ben's Crabs
At Leah raising her crossbow, Anthony took a step backwards, grabbing a pillow off of the bed and holding it in front of him. He didn't even know if this would do anything in the event of her firing that thing at him, and she didn't seem like the kind of person to commit a cold-blooded murder, but then again you don't know what your friends are gonna do in the event of being thrown into a tyrannical death game. Things like that had a tendency to make you more desperate. And now Leah was bringing up the crocodile thing? She still remembered that. Huh. It must have been... ages ago.
But now was not the time to reminisce on the past. Now was the time to confront the threat that was in front of him. Beau was here too, but frankly Anthony wasn't paying much attention to anything other than the crossbow in Leah's hands. Or... what the fuck even was that? It looked like something you made in shop with an arrow protruding out of it. But it also looked deadly, and Anthony wasn't gonna fuck with that.
"A-alright, everyone put your goddamn weapons down. Crossbow thing, uh, meat cleaver, whatever, just put it down. We're all friends here. We're not gonna fall to-to whatever the fuck the assholes behind this want us to do. Remember, your parents are probably watching." At his last sentence, he managed to fake a light chuckle. Hopefully, this would work. But, Anthony wasn't a fool. Nonviolence was good and all that, but it seemed like disarming someone forcefully was better than watching someone die.
Idly, he wondered if his activist friends were watching, or if they were just getting updates from Reddit or something like that. He could only imagine what was going through their minds right now. Well, it was most likely something about how that show was evil and he'd be a martyr, but that implied he would die. And he was not in a mood for dying, which was why he was trying to prevent his jogging buddy from shooting him with a crossbow.
"I know you're worried and you're-you're frightened, Leah, but aiming a crossbow at people isn't gonna do you any favours. For... both our sakes, you should put it down before you hurt someone." He had already said something like that, hadn't he? Telling everyone to put their weapons down and co=operate.
He just hoped that she'd listen to him.
But now was not the time to reminisce on the past. Now was the time to confront the threat that was in front of him. Beau was here too, but frankly Anthony wasn't paying much attention to anything other than the crossbow in Leah's hands. Or... what the fuck even was that? It looked like something you made in shop with an arrow protruding out of it. But it also looked deadly, and Anthony wasn't gonna fuck with that.
"A-alright, everyone put your goddamn weapons down. Crossbow thing, uh, meat cleaver, whatever, just put it down. We're all friends here. We're not gonna fall to-to whatever the fuck the assholes behind this want us to do. Remember, your parents are probably watching." At his last sentence, he managed to fake a light chuckle. Hopefully, this would work. But, Anthony wasn't a fool. Nonviolence was good and all that, but it seemed like disarming someone forcefully was better than watching someone die.
Idly, he wondered if his activist friends were watching, or if they were just getting updates from Reddit or something like that. He could only imagine what was going through their minds right now. Well, it was most likely something about how that show was evil and he'd be a martyr, but that implied he would die. And he was not in a mood for dying, which was why he was trying to prevent his jogging buddy from shooting him with a crossbow.
"I know you're worried and you're-you're frightened, Leah, but aiming a crossbow at people isn't gonna do you any favours. For... both our sakes, you should put it down before you hurt someone." He had already said something like that, hadn't he? Telling everyone to put their weapons down and co=operate.
He just hoped that she'd listen to him.
There were people around her, and that was somehow just a little worse than the fact that she was going to die. She could avoid people, but she couldn’t avoid death. Everyone was talking and making their own noise and telling her to stop this, to do that, to put the weapon down. Her parents are probably watching her break down Anthony was right, and it’s so stupid because she couldn’t care less what her mother felt about it right now. All she wanted to do was to read a book by the shore, listening to the quiet waves and having no stress or people around her.
“Olivia, please just give me the fucking book, I-
“I- I don’t-” She lowered the crossbow, “I don’t want to put that guilt on myself, yeah,” she stammered. “I’m sorry, I just… Yeah, I’ll, um, talk…” Her fingernails grinded into the crossbow’s metal as she clutched it. How are they so calm? Why are they so calm? How dare they?
“I’m not goody good and all that Jazz, Beau, I’m going to die.” Why wouldn’t they let her die with dignity? Why was Beau such a fucking idiot? Oh, all the mysteries in life that she would never figure out. “I don’t- I just thought that you would like for it to end in a nice way, you know. Like me. I think I’ll have a lot less guilt if, um, one of use died consensually…? No, not that, sorry. Erm. How are you guys doing today?”
A million thoughts ran by her brain and she didn’t know which one to voice out, so she just threw all the ideas, conglomerated, into a putrid mess of words. She didn’t want to suffer, and she didn’t want them to suffer. She didn’t want to kill, and she didn’t want them to kill. She didn’t want to die, but she didn’t have a choice, and they didn’t have a choice, either. Won’t have a choice, if she fired the bow. But no therapy and money and fame would wash blood off of their hands and stitch their minds back together again.
If she gave them a quick demise, then she would have that blood on her, and it’ll break her, but she was too scared to have her own blood on her, too.
…
“Sorry, Jewel.”
“Olivia, please just give me the fucking book, I-
“I- I don’t-” She lowered the crossbow, “I don’t want to put that guilt on myself, yeah,” she stammered. “I’m sorry, I just… Yeah, I’ll, um, talk…” Her fingernails grinded into the crossbow’s metal as she clutched it. How are they so calm? Why are they so calm? How dare they?
“I’m not goody good and all that Jazz, Beau, I’m going to die.” Why wouldn’t they let her die with dignity? Why was Beau such a fucking idiot? Oh, all the mysteries in life that she would never figure out. “I don’t- I just thought that you would like for it to end in a nice way, you know. Like me. I think I’ll have a lot less guilt if, um, one of use died consensually…? No, not that, sorry. Erm. How are you guys doing today?”
A million thoughts ran by her brain and she didn’t know which one to voice out, so she just threw all the ideas, conglomerated, into a putrid mess of words. She didn’t want to suffer, and she didn’t want them to suffer. She didn’t want to kill, and she didn’t want them to kill. She didn’t want to die, but she didn’t have a choice, and they didn’t have a choice, either. Won’t have a choice, if she fired the bow. But no therapy and money and fame would wash blood off of their hands and stitch their minds back together again.
If she gave them a quick demise, then she would have that blood on her, and it’ll break her, but she was too scared to have her own blood on her, too.
…
“Sorry, Jewel.”
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ciphermitarai
- Posts: 97
- Joined: Tue Jun 02, 2020 12:06 am
- Location: lost in junpei's forehead
- Team Affiliation: Claudia's Krakens
- Contact:
If anything, Lucia was accustomed, at least, to how strange people’s reactions could be. It was SOTF, after all. She’d studied this.
Yet that didn’t stop her from feeling a bit of a sting from Anthony’s words. Did they really think she’d use this to kill them? Right after trying to calm Leah down? Did they think she was lying?
She took in a careful breath and moved the cleaver best out of sight as she could. No, she’s not dumb enough to give it up. Step number one to getting yourself killed: being vulnerable. Being asleep in the open. Being without a weapon, she thought hastily, doing her best to keep her eyes off of the others as she did. And they’d have to leave that little room sooner or later, wouldn’t they? But she didn’t want to look disingenuous, no, trust was important, too. She had to stay on her toes. She had to watch out.
Her pride was... probably not something she should be worried about right now. And her body knew that too, moving further and further away with every word that Leah spoke, bringing her out of her head again.
“I’m not gonna hurt anyone either—promise...” she added tentatively, doing her best not to shift the delicate balance that, as it seemed to her, all depended on Leah. Keeping her voice low, trying not to instigate. Don’t make the girl with the weapon mad.
“None of us want to hurt anyone we don’t have to, right?” she continued, unsure if she even fit that criteria herself in the maddening, shifting instability of it all. And somehow, despite it, she could feel her words strengthen.
“So let’s at least not hurt each other, okay?”
Yet that didn’t stop her from feeling a bit of a sting from Anthony’s words. Did they really think she’d use this to kill them? Right after trying to calm Leah down? Did they think she was lying?
She took in a careful breath and moved the cleaver best out of sight as she could. No, she’s not dumb enough to give it up. Step number one to getting yourself killed: being vulnerable. Being asleep in the open. Being without a weapon, she thought hastily, doing her best to keep her eyes off of the others as she did. And they’d have to leave that little room sooner or later, wouldn’t they? But she didn’t want to look disingenuous, no, trust was important, too. She had to stay on her toes. She had to watch out.
Her pride was... probably not something she should be worried about right now. And her body knew that too, moving further and further away with every word that Leah spoke, bringing her out of her head again.
“I’m not gonna hurt anyone either—promise...” she added tentatively, doing her best not to shift the delicate balance that, as it seemed to her, all depended on Leah. Keeping her voice low, trying not to instigate. Don’t make the girl with the weapon mad.
“None of us want to hurt anyone we don’t have to, right?” she continued, unsure if she even fit that criteria herself in the maddening, shifting instability of it all. And somehow, despite it, she could feel her words strengthen.
“So let’s at least not hurt each other, okay?”
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MurderWeasel
- Posts: 3432
- Joined: Mon Aug 06, 2018 9:56 am
- Team Affiliation: Jewel's Leviathans
A voice whispers from Beau's collar, so quietly that only he can hear it.
"You have the right idea. There's a teammate in there, and she's scared. I've seen this before, and it can go wrong so quickly. But you can stop that from happening.
"Help her. Help them. I believe in you."
"You have the right idea. There's a teammate in there, and she's scared. I've seen this before, and it can go wrong so quickly. But you can stop that from happening.
"Help her. Help them. I believe in you."