Scarlett hadn't suspected that Michael would put Blaine in a barrel after his speech and she had to smile a little at the scene. It was strange that it warmed her heart to see Michael handling Blaine in a somewhat funny way. It was making her feel a bit less scared of what happened beforehand.
She got up to her feet fully as Everett was high-fiving Michael and she rubbed her sore cheek a little. If there was a next time with Blaine, then she could.... could.... What would she do? Would she have the heart to really take him out if she needed to do so?
She leaned over to pick up her icepick as Everett was now speaking and she slowly looked at his face. He was crying once more. Honestly, she wanted to cry with him. But she didn't want to look like she couldn't handle the situation. She wanted to look strong for the other two.
"Everett, don't cry. It's going to be okay. We're not going to let Blaine hurt anyone else. I can't really make it a promise. But we can't let this get to us. Okay?" She was trying to reassure him and she patted his shoulder with her hand gently. "We just need to figure out what to do next. So let's just calm down and think about what we should do."
I'd Rather be at the Aquarium
Sorry, but staff is mandating that this thread dies now. - Yugi
-
Primrosette
- Posts: 896
- Joined: Wed Aug 08, 2018 1:59 pm
- Location: In Her Dark Abyss
So, all was well in the world again. The trashman got put where he belongs, and Michael in turn received a high five for it, with thanks to his two new friends for their assistance, and none of them died. Today was a good day.
There was something wrong though. Everett asked about Blaine and started crying... Uhhh, what? He didn't kill Blaine, Michael didn't understand the problem. So he'd either get out, or starve to death or get his collar blown? Damnit Everett, why'd you have to ruin a good thing, now Michael would feel bad about leaving him there.
Michael turned back to look at Blaine's pathetic visage peeping over the barrel, his head in between his legs from Mike's point of view. Yeah... No, Michael was most certainly not pulling the bastard out of the barrel. He tried to kill him earlier, and he'd try to do it again.
"Nah, I ain't pulling him out of there, man. He's got a bag on him, he'll be fine. If he gets out, it'll be because someone was nicer to him than us, maybe it'll make him think and realize something. If he tries that shit again, sure, we ice him then and there, but now, nah, we don't need to. I'd hope he learned his lesson, but you never know. I know this though, I ain't dragging his ass out of there, you got me fucked up if you think I'm gonna give the bastard another chance to choke me."
Everett was crying though, and well... Shit, he was making it really hard to leave the bastard in there. "Hey, listen Ev, we gotta do this right, think of it as a time out or some shit, he stays in there a bit, he'll ask someone else who comes by to pull him out. If they don't, he'll ask the next person nicely. At the very least, if he does try shit, it'll buy us enough time to get on the other side of the island to get a bigger group, so we won't have to worry about him. The bastard's lucky he isn't dead right now, lord knows he really has it coming to him, you should be happy we're giving him a chance to think things through."
Michael had to bullshit the reason why he left Blaine in a barrel, but he hoped it worked. Truth was, he didn't feel like killing him but he didn't want the bastard to come back for him neither. Putting him in a barrel left him out of sight and out of mind, but now he'd probably worry a little bit if the dumb fuck did starve or get his head blown off. He wouldn't worry much, but he'd feel kinda bad about it. As long as the bastard was there though, he wasn't going to be fucking with anyone any time soon though, so it would be best to not drag his ass out, it would be for the better of everyone else as dickish as it sounded.
"Don't worry about it Ev, we aren't responsible for the bastard anymore. His actions brought him to that point. Not yours or mine. He chose where he's at right now. We don't have to choose a damn thing for him now, let someone else do it. I mean, if his collar gets blown up or some shit, yeah, you could probably blame me, but could you really? If you guys didn't show up you'd find me as a corpse with a purple head and blood dripping out of my nose and mouth. Right now I'd say he got off light."
There was something wrong though. Everett asked about Blaine and started crying... Uhhh, what? He didn't kill Blaine, Michael didn't understand the problem. So he'd either get out, or starve to death or get his collar blown? Damnit Everett, why'd you have to ruin a good thing, now Michael would feel bad about leaving him there.
Michael turned back to look at Blaine's pathetic visage peeping over the barrel, his head in between his legs from Mike's point of view. Yeah... No, Michael was most certainly not pulling the bastard out of the barrel. He tried to kill him earlier, and he'd try to do it again.
"Nah, I ain't pulling him out of there, man. He's got a bag on him, he'll be fine. If he gets out, it'll be because someone was nicer to him than us, maybe it'll make him think and realize something. If he tries that shit again, sure, we ice him then and there, but now, nah, we don't need to. I'd hope he learned his lesson, but you never know. I know this though, I ain't dragging his ass out of there, you got me fucked up if you think I'm gonna give the bastard another chance to choke me."
Everett was crying though, and well... Shit, he was making it really hard to leave the bastard in there. "Hey, listen Ev, we gotta do this right, think of it as a time out or some shit, he stays in there a bit, he'll ask someone else who comes by to pull him out. If they don't, he'll ask the next person nicely. At the very least, if he does try shit, it'll buy us enough time to get on the other side of the island to get a bigger group, so we won't have to worry about him. The bastard's lucky he isn't dead right now, lord knows he really has it coming to him, you should be happy we're giving him a chance to think things through."
Michael had to bullshit the reason why he left Blaine in a barrel, but he hoped it worked. Truth was, he didn't feel like killing him but he didn't want the bastard to come back for him neither. Putting him in a barrel left him out of sight and out of mind, but now he'd probably worry a little bit if the dumb fuck did starve or get his head blown off. He wouldn't worry much, but he'd feel kinda bad about it. As long as the bastard was there though, he wasn't going to be fucking with anyone any time soon though, so it would be best to not drag his ass out, it would be for the better of everyone else as dickish as it sounded.
"Don't worry about it Ev, we aren't responsible for the bastard anymore. His actions brought him to that point. Not yours or mine. He chose where he's at right now. We don't have to choose a damn thing for him now, let someone else do it. I mean, if his collar gets blown up or some shit, yeah, you could probably blame me, but could you really? If you guys didn't show up you'd find me as a corpse with a purple head and blood dripping out of my nose and mouth. Right now I'd say he got off light."
Catche thinks my squirrel is Fisk so here's my daily reminder that he is not.
Everett allowed Scarlett to comfort him, and he allowed Michael to go on his big long speech of responsibility-avoidance. He didn't feel good about it, but he let them.
God, they were deluding themselves, pretending that they were the good guys. Sure, they weren't as shitty as Blaine, but they still weren't good. The only really moral thing to do would just be to...
Fuck...
Everett couldn't think of anything.
Well, at least he knew wasn't lying to himself about being a "good person".
It wasn't like they could just roll the Blaine-barrel around the island. Just shooting him or rolling him into the ocean had the same end result as leaving him here to rot; sure Blaine'd suffer less, but murder was bad, right? Setting him loose would be literal suicide. Shit, if they did leave him here, what if some other crazy fucker found 'em and fucking tortured him to death?
This was a crock of shit.
But, hey, Michael'd already made the decision to leave Blaine behind. So that's what they were going to do.
Anything that happened to Blaine or because of Blaine or anything relating to shitty goddamned Blaine in the future would be all Michael's fault, and that was be okay.
"Okay, fine, whatever you say. Let's just leave him." Everett gritted his teeth. "We'd better get the fuck outta dodge, though. If he gets out while we're still here, he's gonna be pissed."
God, they were deluding themselves, pretending that they were the good guys. Sure, they weren't as shitty as Blaine, but they still weren't good. The only really moral thing to do would just be to...
Fuck...
Everett couldn't think of anything.
Well, at least he knew wasn't lying to himself about being a "good person".
It wasn't like they could just roll the Blaine-barrel around the island. Just shooting him or rolling him into the ocean had the same end result as leaving him here to rot; sure Blaine'd suffer less, but murder was bad, right? Setting him loose would be literal suicide. Shit, if they did leave him here, what if some other crazy fucker found 'em and fucking tortured him to death?
This was a crock of shit.
But, hey, Michael'd already made the decision to leave Blaine behind. So that's what they were going to do.
Anything that happened to Blaine or because of Blaine or anything relating to shitty goddamned Blaine in the future would be all Michael's fault, and that was be okay.
"Okay, fine, whatever you say. Let's just leave him." Everett gritted his teeth. "We'd better get the fuck outta dodge, though. If he gets out while we're still here, he's gonna be pissed."
-
Primrosette
- Posts: 896
- Joined: Wed Aug 08, 2018 1:59 pm
- Location: In Her Dark Abyss
Scarlett had to agree with Michael. She knew that it would be wrong to leave Blaine there on his own. But she didn't really want to drag Blaine around with them and she definitely didn't want to have to kill him. She just wanted him to think over what he had done. Hopefully he would see the error of his actions. But that was just her trying to be positive about it. Michael even said that he could be blamed if Blaine does anything bad in the future and she felt unsure about that. It would honestly be all of three of them at fault to be fair. But she wasn't going to voice that.
"Yes, yes. We should leave. I think we should go somewhere else and come up with a better plan of what we should do." She suggested before turned to leave after one last look at Blaine. "Let's-let's go, guys."
((Scarlett McAfee continued in Say it with Firecrackers!))
"Yes, yes. We should leave. I think we should go somewhere else and come up with a better plan of what we should do." She suggested before turned to leave after one last look at Blaine. "Let's-let's go, guys."
((Scarlett McAfee continued in Say it with Firecrackers!))
So the group was leaving now? Alright, let's go. Michael didn't want to stay much longer anyways. He walked back to pick up his shield and bag before turning around and heading back. He saw the ball and chain Blaine used on him earlier, and figured he might as well bag him something to use with the shield. Blaine wasn't gonna use it anymore, that's for sure.
As he bent over to pick it up, he saw Blaine's fedora laying by the weird metal nunchucks. He placed his shield under his arm as he grabbed them both. As he walked back towards the group, he twirled the fedora on his finger before he passed Blaine, stopping just by him to swing his unwieldy new flail into the barrel, a loud clang emitting from it. He stopped to stand in front of it to look Blaine in the eyes.
"Don't fuck with me, don't fuck with my friends, don't fuck with my classmates, and most of all, drink more milk, snaggletooth. Maybe that shit wouldn't have happened if you actually flossed, you demented shit-heel." Michael finished his threat and call out to Blaine's new features as he placed the fedora on top of barrel boy's head, before patting him on the shoulder and laughing like some parody of a father teaching his son a lesson in some 50's Leave-it-to-Beaver sitcom.
Mofo was lucky Mike was one of the good guys, if he wasn't he'd have taken that gun and put two in his head for that bullshit he pulled.
"Aight, let's get the fuck outta here. We ain't gettin' jack waiting around this shithole!"
((Michael Crowe continued elsewhere.))
As he bent over to pick it up, he saw Blaine's fedora laying by the weird metal nunchucks. He placed his shield under his arm as he grabbed them both. As he walked back towards the group, he twirled the fedora on his finger before he passed Blaine, stopping just by him to swing his unwieldy new flail into the barrel, a loud clang emitting from it. He stopped to stand in front of it to look Blaine in the eyes.
"Don't fuck with me, don't fuck with my friends, don't fuck with my classmates, and most of all, drink more milk, snaggletooth. Maybe that shit wouldn't have happened if you actually flossed, you demented shit-heel." Michael finished his threat and call out to Blaine's new features as he placed the fedora on top of barrel boy's head, before patting him on the shoulder and laughing like some parody of a father teaching his son a lesson in some 50's Leave-it-to-Beaver sitcom.
Mofo was lucky Mike was one of the good guys, if he wasn't he'd have taken that gun and put two in his head for that bullshit he pulled.
"Aight, let's get the fuck outta here. We ain't gettin' jack waiting around this shithole!"
((Michael Crowe continued elsewhere.))
Catche thinks my squirrel is Fisk so here's my daily reminder that he is not.
Okay, so the consensus was for the group to leave for parts unknown, and just abandon Blaine. Everett wasn't looking forwards to the trek to wherever the heck they were going, but hey, hopefully their destination'd have less crazies. Unlikely...
Everett sighed. If Blaine died, it would be his fault. No, wait, not his fault, Michael's fault. Michael was the one who made that decision, thus he bore sole responsibility for what happened to Blaine. That worked with Everett.
Michael walked over to Blaine, and began to monologue again.
Michael was...
Michael was legitimately fucking insane. Like, Everett'd thought that for a moment back when Michael was all like "AHAHAHAHHAHAHAHA IRONY!", but, like...what the fuck, Michael? Did he have some preexisting mental condition that made him act like the protagonist of an 80s action-comedy film? Everett sure hoped so, because if Michael was going through some psychosis, he'd be straight fucked. Oh well, he was probably better than Blaine.
Michael finished off his "Yo, Blaine! You're bad!" speech of great importance, and then both he and Scarlett decided now was the time to leave.
"Uh, alright!" Everett nodded his head. "I, uh, think I might've forgotten something. I'll catch up with you guys in a few seconds!"
Everett waited until the other two were out of sight before he walked up to Blaine. He stuffed his hands into his slacks' pockets, and began to speak.
"Uh, hey!" He gave a little wave. "So, fuck, I don't know if you can hear me, or if you've even got enough mental capability left to understand words, but..."
He gave a small sigh before continuing.
"I-I'm so fucking sorry this happened to you. Really, I am." Everett sighed again, feeling a few tears beginning to well up. "Bye, hopefully."
He solemnly nodded his head before chasing off after Michael and Scarlett.
"Hey guys, I'm coming! False alarm!"
((Everett Taylor continued in Say it with Firecrackers!.))
Everett sighed. If Blaine died, it would be his fault. No, wait, not his fault, Michael's fault. Michael was the one who made that decision, thus he bore sole responsibility for what happened to Blaine. That worked with Everett.
Michael walked over to Blaine, and began to monologue again.
Michael was...
Michael was legitimately fucking insane. Like, Everett'd thought that for a moment back when Michael was all like "AHAHAHAHHAHAHAHA IRONY!", but, like...what the fuck, Michael? Did he have some preexisting mental condition that made him act like the protagonist of an 80s action-comedy film? Everett sure hoped so, because if Michael was going through some psychosis, he'd be straight fucked. Oh well, he was probably better than Blaine.
Michael finished off his "Yo, Blaine! You're bad!" speech of great importance, and then both he and Scarlett decided now was the time to leave.
"Uh, alright!" Everett nodded his head. "I, uh, think I might've forgotten something. I'll catch up with you guys in a few seconds!"
Everett waited until the other two were out of sight before he walked up to Blaine. He stuffed his hands into his slacks' pockets, and began to speak.
"Uh, hey!" He gave a little wave. "So, fuck, I don't know if you can hear me, or if you've even got enough mental capability left to understand words, but..."
He gave a small sigh before continuing.
"I-I'm so fucking sorry this happened to you. Really, I am." Everett sighed again, feeling a few tears beginning to well up. "Bye, hopefully."
He solemnly nodded his head before chasing off after Michael and Scarlett.
"Hey guys, I'm coming! False alarm!"
((Everett Taylor continued in Say it with Firecrackers!.))
((Damion Castillo continues from Second Impressions))
So, it turned out the plan was that there was no plan. Just walk around the island until they found... something. Whatever that something was, God knew.
Every now and then, he would sneak a glare at James while he wasn't looking. He'd felt safe in that tunnel. Sure, people just randomly popped out of there like the place had a spawner of some kind, but... on the other hand, maybe it wasn't the best place after all. But at least he'd felt safe there. Here, just walking around towards that unknown something, Damion felt exposed. Even as they walked past open plains with the horizon unobstructed, imaginary gazes pointed at him. Waiting. Accusing.
And so Damion held onto his gun. Tightened his grip.
Every now and then, James would try to start up small talk. Words that only fulfilled the purpose of sounds: to fill ears. Nothing more. And Damion would try to answer, try to kill the silence crushing in on them, but what were you supposed to talk about? How the hell could you dare use air asking how the day was?
Back in school, he and James would talk about what their homework was like, what their teachers were like, what new interesting math fact they'd found out, because that's what their interests were. That's what they had founded their relationship on: the normalcies of school life. But school had been ending, and so the classes were just held to complete attendance, and their conversations had shifted from what they had done to what they would do. And now, no one wanted to talk about that.
So, they walked. And Damion hated himself for letting that silence continue, because thoughts filled up the absence of words. Mostly those glares. The feel of his gun, the very gun he held. How his arms still ached. How a metal eye had tracked their movements, captured every shame, every regret.
And he'd close his eyes, and he'd wish it all back.
He was supposed to be better than that. He could've just walked away. Or maybe he could've just stayed where he woke up longer, gotten himself together. But things didn't quite work out that way, and now the results just echoed continuously.
Eventually, Damion and James found their something. A bunch of containers and docks. The first sign of civilization they'd seen, aside from the tunnels. Shelter. Possibly more supplies, more tools. It would do.
The shadows had grown rather long by the time they'd arrived. Damion paused at a shipping crate and slanted against it, breathing heavily. He looked at the map. They'd walked across the entire island, apparently, although that was a fact his body was well-aware of.
When his heart finally slowed down, he asked James, "You fine with resting here for now?"
Then, his eyes wandered a bit. There was an odd shape off in the distance. Like the letter Y. A barrel. A barrel and...
legs?
"What the fuck?"
So, it turned out the plan was that there was no plan. Just walk around the island until they found... something. Whatever that something was, God knew.
Every now and then, he would sneak a glare at James while he wasn't looking. He'd felt safe in that tunnel. Sure, people just randomly popped out of there like the place had a spawner of some kind, but... on the other hand, maybe it wasn't the best place after all. But at least he'd felt safe there. Here, just walking around towards that unknown something, Damion felt exposed. Even as they walked past open plains with the horizon unobstructed, imaginary gazes pointed at him. Waiting. Accusing.
And so Damion held onto his gun. Tightened his grip.
Every now and then, James would try to start up small talk. Words that only fulfilled the purpose of sounds: to fill ears. Nothing more. And Damion would try to answer, try to kill the silence crushing in on them, but what were you supposed to talk about? How the hell could you dare use air asking how the day was?
Back in school, he and James would talk about what their homework was like, what their teachers were like, what new interesting math fact they'd found out, because that's what their interests were. That's what they had founded their relationship on: the normalcies of school life. But school had been ending, and so the classes were just held to complete attendance, and their conversations had shifted from what they had done to what they would do. And now, no one wanted to talk about that.
So, they walked. And Damion hated himself for letting that silence continue, because thoughts filled up the absence of words. Mostly those glares. The feel of his gun, the very gun he held. How his arms still ached. How a metal eye had tracked their movements, captured every shame, every regret.
And he'd close his eyes, and he'd wish it all back.
He was supposed to be better than that. He could've just walked away. Or maybe he could've just stayed where he woke up longer, gotten himself together. But things didn't quite work out that way, and now the results just echoed continuously.
Eventually, Damion and James found their something. A bunch of containers and docks. The first sign of civilization they'd seen, aside from the tunnels. Shelter. Possibly more supplies, more tools. It would do.
The shadows had grown rather long by the time they'd arrived. Damion paused at a shipping crate and slanted against it, breathing heavily. He looked at the map. They'd walked across the entire island, apparently, although that was a fact his body was well-aware of.
When his heart finally slowed down, he asked James, "You fine with resting here for now?"
Then, his eyes wandered a bit. There was an odd shape off in the distance. Like the letter Y. A barrel. A barrel and...
legs?
"What the fuck?"
SC3:
Matias Juarez is fed up. He is currently walking home.
Pregame: now that you are broken by the seas, in the depths of the waters,
Memories: Vamô Detonar essa Porra!
Diego Larrosa is lost. pls give my kids friends tv3 version
Stephanie's Cuckaneers Today at 12:29 AM
maraoone was a mistake - cicada 2021
Matias Juarez is fed up. He is currently walking home.
Pregame: now that you are broken by the seas, in the depths of the waters,
Memories: Vamô Detonar essa Porra!
Diego Larrosa is lost. pls give my kids friends tv3 version
Stephanie's Cuckaneers Today at 12:29 AM
maraoone was a mistake - cicada 2021
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Latin For Dragula
- Posts: 399
- Joined: Wed Aug 08, 2018 10:28 pm
((I don't know who you are. But I have a very particular set of skills. Skills that make me a nightmare for people like you. I will hunt you. I will find you. And I will make you my friend.))
You're loooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooost.
Theo wasn't lost. He was just taking a creative direction, that was all. After all, Clio could have run into the docks, right? It was a good place to hide, catch your breath, maybe have a good cry. Definitely a place to have a good cry. Theo knew his way around a good cry-space.
...wow, that sounded way more pathetic than usual. Get it together, man. And he was trying, it was just hard, okay? He didn't know what he was doing. He didn't even really know Clio all that well. She just looked scared and upset and he was scared and upset and he wasn't great with people but he knew out here more than ever people needed to stick together and not go nuts and he was kinda going nuts and oh god he was alone wasn't he there was no one here except what if there was someone here or over there or right there and they had a knife or a sword or a gun or a drill a drill would they give someone a drill oh geez oh geez oh geez
BREATHE
"HELLOCLIOSOMEONEANYONEINHEREPLEASE?"
Good recovery?
He was trembling all over now. Theo dropped his bag and knelt in the pathway, trying to take in some deep breaths and grab onto reality without getting it in too tight. He had to focus...just not too much. Couldn't think about where he was and what was happening. Just enough to keep going. Just enough to help Clio, or save somebody, or do something worthwhile with his life why had he never done anything worthwhile with his-
BREATHE
No thoughts. Just ragged breaths in and out until the one thing he didn't want on his mind forced its way to the surface again.
Nobody is gonna care if I die here.
And there it was. It wasn't dying that horrified him so much as the thought that after everything, nobody outside of his family was probably going to think that much about him when he was dead. If he was honest with himself, his family would probably only care out of obligation, 'cuz that's what family's did. He hadn't lived a life worth mourning. He was loud. Grating. Absorbed. Awkward.
Selfish.
Annoying.
Worthless.
Theo curled up tighter against his bag inside the maze and let his sobs echo back at him through the looming containers.
You're loooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooost.
Theo wasn't lost. He was just taking a creative direction, that was all. After all, Clio could have run into the docks, right? It was a good place to hide, catch your breath, maybe have a good cry. Definitely a place to have a good cry. Theo knew his way around a good cry-space.
...wow, that sounded way more pathetic than usual. Get it together, man. And he was trying, it was just hard, okay? He didn't know what he was doing. He didn't even really know Clio all that well. She just looked scared and upset and he was scared and upset and he wasn't great with people but he knew out here more than ever people needed to stick together and not go nuts and he was kinda going nuts and oh god he was alone wasn't he there was no one here except what if there was someone here or over there or right there and they had a knife or a sword or a gun or a drill a drill would they give someone a drill oh geez oh geez oh geez
BREATHE
"HELLOCLIOSOMEONEANYONEINHEREPLEASE?"
Good recovery?
He was trembling all over now. Theo dropped his bag and knelt in the pathway, trying to take in some deep breaths and grab onto reality without getting it in too tight. He had to focus...just not too much. Couldn't think about where he was and what was happening. Just enough to keep going. Just enough to help Clio, or save somebody, or do something worthwhile with his life why had he never done anything worthwhile with his-
BREATHE
No thoughts. Just ragged breaths in and out until the one thing he didn't want on his mind forced its way to the surface again.
Nobody is gonna care if I die here.
And there it was. It wasn't dying that horrified him so much as the thought that after everything, nobody outside of his family was probably going to think that much about him when he was dead. If he was honest with himself, his family would probably only care out of obligation, 'cuz that's what family's did. He hadn't lived a life worth mourning. He was loud. Grating. Absorbed. Awkward.
Selfish.
Annoying.
Worthless.
Theo curled up tighter against his bag inside the maze and let his sobs echo back at him through the looming containers.
((James Mulzet continued from Second Impressions ))
They had walked for a while now, away from those horrible mines. James was glad for that, but there was something that had nagged at him afterwards.
He knew Damion well enough from school that he could confortably say that he was his friend, and yet the entire time they had been walking, he was distant in a way. Avoiding the topic like the plague. So for the most part, they walked in silence.
They came upon an area with docks and containers, colorfull ones captivating you eyes if only because of that. He heard Damion ask if he was fine with resting. He was about to respond when Damion swore and James turned to see
Legs poking out of a barrel.
James stood there staring at this barrel. The thought of it being someone's dead body quickly came and went when he saw the legs wiggle. Nope, someone alive was stuck in that thing and wanted out. The question that came to his mind was should they help whoever this is?
This thought was punctuated when the sound of someone crying their eyes out filled the area. For a second he wondered if it was the barrel person, but this sound echoed through the containers. Someone else was there.
He looked over at Damion and shook his head.
They had walked for a while now, away from those horrible mines. James was glad for that, but there was something that had nagged at him afterwards.
He knew Damion well enough from school that he could confortably say that he was his friend, and yet the entire time they had been walking, he was distant in a way. Avoiding the topic like the plague. So for the most part, they walked in silence.
They came upon an area with docks and containers, colorfull ones captivating you eyes if only because of that. He heard Damion ask if he was fine with resting. He was about to respond when Damion swore and James turned to see
Legs poking out of a barrel.
James stood there staring at this barrel. The thought of it being someone's dead body quickly came and went when he saw the legs wiggle. Nope, someone alive was stuck in that thing and wanted out. The question that came to his mind was should they help whoever this is?
This thought was punctuated when the sound of someone crying their eyes out filled the area. For a second he wondered if it was the barrel person, but this sound echoed through the containers. Someone else was there.
He looked over at Damion and shook his head.
(Adopted from Espional)
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Sh4dE
- Posts: 736
- Joined: Tue Aug 07, 2018 8:27 pm
- Location: Whittree, Oklahoma
- Team Affiliation: Claudia's Krakens
Blaine spit out some of the liquid that tasted like iron and imagined choking on it as he did not have a clear head enough to figure out how to get out yet. This lead him to spit even more out. He shook more body parts as he heard people approaching. He could see that his suit now was totally blooded and spit on.
He felt sick and wanted to get out.
He felt sick and wanted to get out.
I'm so glad to be back !
Someone shouted, and Damion twitched. His finger twitched. Almost enough so to pull the trigger. Almost. He looked down at his hand. He just. It was pointed at the ground, thankfully, but what if? Honestly, he should just put the gun back in his bag or something. Just put it back.
His hand didn't move.
Put it back.
It stayed still.
OK. Maybe he shouldn't put it back. There were two people, and while one of them was basically a non-factor. The other... was that Theo? Oh god, Theo was with them. Of course, he'd be crying. Of course. Who wouldn't be? Especially Theo. Oh god. He was here.
He turned around and was about to make a few steps when the question of 'why' hit him. Why would he be crying? He looked back at the barrel with legs. Oh god. Did Theo snap? Is that why he was crying, because he did that? Was he looking at a dead body? He shouldn't look. He'd never forget this. It would be burned into his nightmares. Oh god. People had started already. People had-
It was moving.
He looked at James, who had shaken his head. OK. He sighed a bit. They'd already walked across the entire island. His legs ached. His arms ached. But yeah, makes sense.
He nodded. "So, where to, then?" But then his eyes fell on the barrel again.
A body in a barrel, and Theo crying. That's why they had to leave. That's why they should be walking out of here right now. But, to be honest, maybe he was being paranoid. It didn't make sense for Theo to do that, for him to place someone in a barrel. But then again, it also didn't make sense for Damion to point a gun at people as soon as he woke up. For him to point a gun at James. But here they were.
And it didn't make sense for him to leave someone to starve in a barrel.
In the corner of his vision, a camera stared at him.
"Actually, on second thought." He looked at the barrel. "Don't you think we should do something?"
His hand didn't move.
Put it back.
It stayed still.
OK. Maybe he shouldn't put it back. There were two people, and while one of them was basically a non-factor. The other... was that Theo? Oh god, Theo was with them. Of course, he'd be crying. Of course. Who wouldn't be? Especially Theo. Oh god. He was here.
He turned around and was about to make a few steps when the question of 'why' hit him. Why would he be crying? He looked back at the barrel with legs. Oh god. Did Theo snap? Is that why he was crying, because he did that? Was he looking at a dead body? He shouldn't look. He'd never forget this. It would be burned into his nightmares. Oh god. People had started already. People had-
It was moving.
He looked at James, who had shaken his head. OK. He sighed a bit. They'd already walked across the entire island. His legs ached. His arms ached. But yeah, makes sense.
He nodded. "So, where to, then?" But then his eyes fell on the barrel again.
A body in a barrel, and Theo crying. That's why they had to leave. That's why they should be walking out of here right now. But, to be honest, maybe he was being paranoid. It didn't make sense for Theo to do that, for him to place someone in a barrel. But then again, it also didn't make sense for Damion to point a gun at people as soon as he woke up. For him to point a gun at James. But here they were.
And it didn't make sense for him to leave someone to starve in a barrel.
In the corner of his vision, a camera stared at him.
"Actually, on second thought." He looked at the barrel. "Don't you think we should do something?"
SC3:
Matias Juarez is fed up. He is currently walking home.
Pregame: now that you are broken by the seas, in the depths of the waters,
Memories: Vamô Detonar essa Porra!
Diego Larrosa is lost. pls give my kids friends tv3 version
Stephanie's Cuckaneers Today at 12:29 AM
maraoone was a mistake - cicada 2021
Matias Juarez is fed up. He is currently walking home.
Pregame: now that you are broken by the seas, in the depths of the waters,
Memories: Vamô Detonar essa Porra!
Diego Larrosa is lost. pls give my kids friends tv3 version
Stephanie's Cuckaneers Today at 12:29 AM
maraoone was a mistake - cicada 2021
-
Latin For Dragula
- Posts: 399
- Joined: Wed Aug 08, 2018 10:28 pm
Voices. People were talking somewhere. He couldn't hear what they were saying, but even mixed in with his own crying he could hear the hushed murmurs of other people
Or maybe you just don't wanna be alone.
Whatever. He rose to his feet still sniffling and dragged the bag along behind him, headed in their direction. "Hello? Is, is somebody there?"
Or maybe you just don't wanna be alone.
Whatever. He rose to his feet still sniffling and dragged the bag along behind him, headed in their direction. "Hello? Is, is somebody there?"
Damion looked at him and seemed to be game to leave this place at first. Find a good place to rest, that was the plan. Nowehere in it did it mean dealing with barrel people or crying classmates. Both of them needed to wind down and dealing with this shit was not helping.
And yet suddenly Damion wanted to be a good sammeritan? What would they gain from helping an idiot stuck in a trash can? Unless they've got something good out of it, James didn't care.
Although, it might net him some brownie points with Damion. For some reason, he's been acting weird since the tunnels, hell, while they were in the tunnels too. What James needed now was an ally he could trust, and he could have that in Damion if he played his cards right.
Of course the crier in the distance was moving now, he could hear him move and cry out. Which was just great for them.
"Sure, why not. Just make sure the guy getting closer don't shoot us or whatever."
Leaving his bag over with Damion, James walked over to the barrel and slammed the side of it with his hand.
"Anybody home?"
And yet suddenly Damion wanted to be a good sammeritan? What would they gain from helping an idiot stuck in a trash can? Unless they've got something good out of it, James didn't care.
Although, it might net him some brownie points with Damion. For some reason, he's been acting weird since the tunnels, hell, while they were in the tunnels too. What James needed now was an ally he could trust, and he could have that in Damion if he played his cards right.
Of course the crier in the distance was moving now, he could hear him move and cry out. Which was just great for them.
"Sure, why not. Just make sure the guy getting closer don't shoot us or whatever."
Leaving his bag over with Damion, James walked over to the barrel and slammed the side of it with his hand.
"Anybody home?"