Laura felt ‘laska sidle up beside her, and she immediately wrapped her arm around her shoulders, SLAPPing her hand with way too much force into her bestie’s shoulder blade, as her own shoulders (wow careful there bitch don’t use up the world’s supply of the word ‘shoulder’ now) heaved up and down, and she continued to snort laugh way too fucking loud and for way too fucking long.
God this was fucking priceless, man, she had totally changed her mind; she could get hit by a fucking lightning bolt right now without even seeing a crumb of cocaine, and she would still die happy.
She was probably, like, digging her fingers into Alaska a lil too much, but fuckin’ whatever, she could deal with it. It was, y’know, karma or some other cosmic bullshit like that, for all the times she had been asked to hold Alaska’s hair back while she threw up into the goddamn toilet at some shitty house party. That made sense, right? Totes fair.
It also left out the fact that in the race for ‘most times knelt over a porcelain bowl with a thumping headache and shitty music playing in the background while your guts were filled with cheap and godawful vodka’, Laura was well and truly in the lead, but like… most of those were outliers anyway (don’t ask how, they just were, Dude Trust Me), so they didn’t really count. Statistics and shit, right?
It took A Bit, as Sylvain got changed into his fresh duds, but Laura managed to stem her laughter into the occasional snort and Impolite Chuckle - although the sight of the goddamn bright pink fucking track pants was almost enough to make her sides split all over again, which probably woulda made her topple into the water. Which would still have been fucking funny, but laughing at someone else’s misfortune was even fucking funnier.
So Laura managed to maintain her composure for just a lil longer, and wiped a tear from her eye as she watched Sylvain, waiting to hear all about The Adventures of Sylvainbad.
CocaineQuest 2021
Sergio handed over the clothes with surprisingly little argument; he raised himself one tiny bit in Sylvain's esteem that day. Though, realtalk, it was kind of hard for anybody to be lower than Laura at the moment. He would have laughed too if their positions had been reversed but come on. It wasn't that funny.
The buzzing in his head, distinct from the rattling of his bones from the chill, was making everything distinctly un-funny right now, actually. Sylvain peeled his t-shirt off and tossed it onto the jetty alongside his other things with a wet slap, and after just a moment's hesitation, followed suit with his jeans. Spontaneously getting undressed in front of other people also seemed like something more in Laura's wheelhouse than his, but while he was numb to embarrassment, he might as well capitalize on it. Feast your eyes on THIS, audience at home.
Once he was re-dressed in his new, disturbingly pink outfit, teeth chattering a little less violently, Sylvain sat on the jetty criss-cross applesauce, not looking at anyone or anything in particular. His hands rested at his side, but the right one was near his pile of clothes, within which the gun was sitting.
"I shot Mari," he blurted out into the night, cutting across Sergio and Alaska's searching gazes and Laura's mocking.
His words were short and blunt, his voice surprisingly steady, his explanation explaining nothing at all.
The buzzing in his head, distinct from the rattling of his bones from the chill, was making everything distinctly un-funny right now, actually. Sylvain peeled his t-shirt off and tossed it onto the jetty alongside his other things with a wet slap, and after just a moment's hesitation, followed suit with his jeans. Spontaneously getting undressed in front of other people also seemed like something more in Laura's wheelhouse than his, but while he was numb to embarrassment, he might as well capitalize on it. Feast your eyes on THIS, audience at home.
Once he was re-dressed in his new, disturbingly pink outfit, teeth chattering a little less violently, Sylvain sat on the jetty criss-cross applesauce, not looking at anyone or anything in particular. His hands rested at his side, but the right one was near his pile of clothes, within which the gun was sitting.
"I shot Mari," he blurted out into the night, cutting across Sergio and Alaska's searching gazes and Laura's mocking.
His words were short and blunt, his voice surprisingly steady, his explanation explaining nothing at all.
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Courtography
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The payoff was worth it. Sylvain looked ridiculous. However, unlike Laura, Sergio didn't have a case of the giggles. The last thing he needed was Sylvain to change his mind and hand back the track pants that were now tainted by Sylvain's salt encrusted ass.
And then there was the reveal. Sylvain hadn't ended up in the ocean to escape some homicidal teen, he was the attempted killer.
Sergio didn't have much to say to that. Sure it figured that there was more killers in waiting on Akeno's team, but Sergio hadn't expected this guy to have the nerve for it.
"Damn dude," was all he said in response, with the same amount of emotion he'd give if one of the bros went back for an eighth plate at the buffet.
And then there was the reveal. Sylvain hadn't ended up in the ocean to escape some homicidal teen, he was the attempted killer.
Sergio didn't have much to say to that. Sure it figured that there was more killers in waiting on Akeno's team, but Sergio hadn't expected this guy to have the nerve for it.
"Damn dude," was all he said in response, with the same amount of emotion he'd give if one of the bros went back for an eighth plate at the buffet.
Oh.
Well.
Huh.
Shit.
Things took a fucking turn.
Ha ha ha ha ha ha
Alaska looked nervously from Sylvain to Sergio and to Laura, unsure of how to fully approach the confession. It wasn't that bad, right? Sylvain was on her team after all, that meant they had a kill and that an opponent was gone. So that was good right? But Sergio and Laura weren't on their team either. So...
It was the basic rules.
She'd talked about it as much on her steam. She'd spoken about how people needed to get it through their heads that Survival of the Fittest was a numbers game. Sure there were allowances for random chance, but when you had teammates you needed to put yourself in the best position to succeed.
Was her entire train of thought barrelling towards justifying Sylvain as in the right and as someone she needed to stick with? Yes. Was she going to divert from that? No. But they didn't need to terminate their group as things stood. It was just a case of seeing where everyone stood.
"Unlucky Mari, but like, rip..." There was a pause as Alaska considered something. "Wait, did you kill her or?"
Well.
Huh.
Shit.
Things took a fucking turn.
Ha ha ha ha ha ha
Alaska looked nervously from Sylvain to Sergio and to Laura, unsure of how to fully approach the confession. It wasn't that bad, right? Sylvain was on her team after all, that meant they had a kill and that an opponent was gone. So that was good right? But Sergio and Laura weren't on their team either. So...
It was the basic rules.
She'd talked about it as much on her steam. She'd spoken about how people needed to get it through their heads that Survival of the Fittest was a numbers game. Sure there were allowances for random chance, but when you had teammates you needed to put yourself in the best position to succeed.
Was her entire train of thought barrelling towards justifying Sylvain as in the right and as someone she needed to stick with? Yes. Was she going to divert from that? No. But they didn't need to terminate their group as things stood. It was just a case of seeing where everyone stood.
"Unlucky Mari, but like, rip..." There was a pause as Alaska considered something. "Wait, did you kill her or?"
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Pippi
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Laura had stopped laughing at this point.
Cause, like, she was a bitch. Not a psycho. It was one thing to, like, joke around about who would kill who on Survival Of The Fittest and shit, ‘If two of your classmates were trapped on an island and one of them killed the other with a rock, would that be fucked up or what’ sorta discussions, that kinda thing. If you were seriously gonna say that you hadn’t written down a list of which of your classmates would kill or die or fuck or go totally loco if your class was picked up and dropped in a death game, then you were either lying through your fucking teeth or the most boring bitch in the goddamn universe.
But actually going ahead and killing someone? Whole different story. Yeah, yeah, this whole game was built around the fact people would kill, because they fucking would; sixty-seven seasons and counting of people doing exactly that didn’t lie. And yeah, it would have been more of a surprise if the deranged motherfuckers like Seo-yun and Fisk hadn’t started playing. But did that stop it from being totally insane? No, no it sure as fuck did not. This wasn’t even like the last couple of seasons, or those weird and shitty gimmick seasons from a while back, where they plucked kids from totally different schools. Everyone here on these floating heaps of wood? Everyone knew each other. Intimately, in passing, cause you hated their guts, didn’t matter. Everyone here had an invisible tie linking them all together.
And Sylvain was just fucking standing there, brazen as get out, lulling them all in with the ‘hahaha oh wacky Sylvain getting all damp in the ocean, oh what a card he is, so harmless and zany’, before blam, hitting them all with the ‘yeah I kinda shot our classmate’ whammy. Like it was nothing at all. And that was kinda fucked up.
“That’s kinda fucked up,” Laura said, staring straight at Sylvain. She was still hanging onto Alaska’s shoulder, but her body was rigid now, no longer the laughing puppet with its strings cut, fully able to stand up on her own but frozen in place, waiting to see exactly what would happen next.
“Didn’t think you’d have the balls to do something like that.”
She sniffed. God, if there was any time she needed to have that goddamn cocaine at hand, it was now.
“Or that you’d be that fucking dense.”
Laura raised an eyebrow as she reached under one of the straps of her swimsuit, rubbing her shoulder to relieve some of the chafing. Her voice was conversational, her actions casual.
“So, like, clear something up for us, which ‘Mari’ was it? There’s, like, seven different girls whose name starts with fucking ‘Mari’. Or did you just, like, go ahead and shoot all of ‘em, get them all done in a row. Just, y’know. Seeing whether that’s your deal now and shit.”
Sure, she was adding to the barrage of questions Sylvain was facing right now. But when you went and took another person’s life, you had to expect a jury sooner or later.
Cause, like, she was a bitch. Not a psycho. It was one thing to, like, joke around about who would kill who on Survival Of The Fittest and shit, ‘If two of your classmates were trapped on an island and one of them killed the other with a rock, would that be fucked up or what’ sorta discussions, that kinda thing. If you were seriously gonna say that you hadn’t written down a list of which of your classmates would kill or die or fuck or go totally loco if your class was picked up and dropped in a death game, then you were either lying through your fucking teeth or the most boring bitch in the goddamn universe.
But actually going ahead and killing someone? Whole different story. Yeah, yeah, this whole game was built around the fact people would kill, because they fucking would; sixty-seven seasons and counting of people doing exactly that didn’t lie. And yeah, it would have been more of a surprise if the deranged motherfuckers like Seo-yun and Fisk hadn’t started playing. But did that stop it from being totally insane? No, no it sure as fuck did not. This wasn’t even like the last couple of seasons, or those weird and shitty gimmick seasons from a while back, where they plucked kids from totally different schools. Everyone here on these floating heaps of wood? Everyone knew each other. Intimately, in passing, cause you hated their guts, didn’t matter. Everyone here had an invisible tie linking them all together.
And Sylvain was just fucking standing there, brazen as get out, lulling them all in with the ‘hahaha oh wacky Sylvain getting all damp in the ocean, oh what a card he is, so harmless and zany’, before blam, hitting them all with the ‘yeah I kinda shot our classmate’ whammy. Like it was nothing at all. And that was kinda fucked up.
“That’s kinda fucked up,” Laura said, staring straight at Sylvain. She was still hanging onto Alaska’s shoulder, but her body was rigid now, no longer the laughing puppet with its strings cut, fully able to stand up on her own but frozen in place, waiting to see exactly what would happen next.
“Didn’t think you’d have the balls to do something like that.”
She sniffed. God, if there was any time she needed to have that goddamn cocaine at hand, it was now.
“Or that you’d be that fucking dense.”
Laura raised an eyebrow as she reached under one of the straps of her swimsuit, rubbing her shoulder to relieve some of the chafing. Her voice was conversational, her actions casual.
“So, like, clear something up for us, which ‘Mari’ was it? There’s, like, seven different girls whose name starts with fucking ‘Mari’. Or did you just, like, go ahead and shoot all of ‘em, get them all done in a row. Just, y’know. Seeing whether that’s your deal now and shit.”
Sure, she was adding to the barrage of questions Sylvain was facing right now. But when you went and took another person’s life, you had to expect a jury sooner or later.
"Mari. Marion Rosales. In our class." Sylvain's words came out clipped, not quite even. He wanted to return Laura's jab, but he couldn't get the words in order. Nothing was amusing right this second, and he was vindictively glad that the lack of humor had struck the rest of them too.
"She's dead, like- I mean, I shot her in the fucking chest. Of course she's dead." Even if she'd still been screaming when he left.
Sylvain ran his hands through his still-damp hair, making the longer parts stand up at haphazard angles. There was an explanation on the tip of his tongue, but he swallowed it. Don't tip your hand, even if you don't know what's in it. Don't reveal your tricks unless asked, and maybe not even then.
"You'll hear." He dropped his hands into his lap again. "In the morning." Frustration bubbled in his chest. He should have more to say. He should have something to show for what he'd done, and all he had was an ache in his shoulder and his wrists and a pile of wet clothes.
"Can we go find somewhere indoors? I wasn't planning to go for a swim, and I'm still fucking freezing." Like damn, they ran off while he was gone and from the looks of things, they still hadn't even found any cocaine. If Sylvain was the only person getting anything done, the four of them were in a pretty dire position. Even he knew that. Maybe in a few minutes it would be funny.
"She's dead, like- I mean, I shot her in the fucking chest. Of course she's dead." Even if she'd still been screaming when he left.
Sylvain ran his hands through his still-damp hair, making the longer parts stand up at haphazard angles. There was an explanation on the tip of his tongue, but he swallowed it. Don't tip your hand, even if you don't know what's in it. Don't reveal your tricks unless asked, and maybe not even then.
"You'll hear." He dropped his hands into his lap again. "In the morning." Frustration bubbled in his chest. He should have more to say. He should have something to show for what he'd done, and all he had was an ache in his shoulder and his wrists and a pile of wet clothes.
"Can we go find somewhere indoors? I wasn't planning to go for a swim, and I'm still fucking freezing." Like damn, they ran off while he was gone and from the looks of things, they still hadn't even found any cocaine. If Sylvain was the only person getting anything done, the four of them were in a pretty dire position. Even he knew that. Maybe in a few minutes it would be funny.
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Courtography
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Sergio was tired of this situation. He knew Laura was how she was, but intentionally being an asshole towards the confirmed killer of the group? Not a great move. Sergio would never do that on purpose. Well, not true, but not like Laura.
And of course Mari was dead. That's what happens when you get shot on SOTF.
"Sure, going inside is chill," he responded.
Sergio didn't really care, but maybe he'd be able to get some alone time with Alaska. Everyone else showing up hadn't been his plan and she was still the best of the small group.
And of course Mari was dead. That's what happens when you get shot on SOTF.
"Sure, going inside is chill," he responded.
Sergio didn't really care, but maybe he'd be able to get some alone time with Alaska. Everyone else showing up hadn't been his plan and she was still the best of the small group.
Laura's body had stiffened up with Sylvain's announcement and she'd seemingly taken offense to the whole thing. It served to tamp down on Alaska's own desire to push Sylvain for more details not because she disagreed with what he had done—she absolutely didn't—but because she didn't want to cross her friend. Laura was unhappy with it, which meant Alaska needed to keep her own approval on the down low.
Luckily if there was the potential for any blowup or big disagreement it never came as instead of responding to Laura's jabs Sylvain instead asked if they could head somewhere inside and Sergio agreed. Alaska nodded in agreement while also making a mental note that she needed to grab Sylvain when they had a moment and talk to him about what had happened. Purely to figure out where they were at and let him know that she was with him. They were teammates after all and he had helped their cause.
For the meantime though she needed to keep her mouth shut and stick to be a good mediator so the group didn't fall apart.
"Yeah, uh, going inside sounds good," She started, looking at their immediate surroundings for one of the larger, more important boats. "We can figure out what to do once we have someone to rest and stuff right?"
She turned her head to face Laura and gave her a gentle nudge with her shoulder.
"Right?"
Luckily if there was the potential for any blowup or big disagreement it never came as instead of responding to Laura's jabs Sylvain instead asked if they could head somewhere inside and Sergio agreed. Alaska nodded in agreement while also making a mental note that she needed to grab Sylvain when they had a moment and talk to him about what had happened. Purely to figure out where they were at and let him know that she was with him. They were teammates after all and he had helped their cause.
For the meantime though she needed to keep her mouth shut and stick to be a good mediator so the group didn't fall apart.
"Yeah, uh, going inside sounds good," She started, looking at their immediate surroundings for one of the larger, more important boats. "We can figure out what to do once we have someone to rest and stuff right?"
She turned her head to face Laura and gave her a gentle nudge with her shoulder.
"Right?"
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Pippi
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Huh.
When was the last time she had felt actual, legitimate, raw anger?
It had been so goddamn easy not to give a shit up until now, she’d had half a lifetime of practice in that regard, after all. Waking up on the ghost ship, none of that dull shit like crying or screaming or begging or whatever had even crossed her mind, because like, the fuck good would that do her? What was she gonna do, ask the producers really nicely to let her go, tell them she’d flash her tits if they gave her a get out of SOTF free card? Yeah, she’d have a better chance of escaping by sprouting wings and learning how to fucking fly. So like, why take this bullshit so seriously if the outcome was predetermined? Have a laugh, fuck around with people, try and get some coke and booze and shit and get crossfaded beyond goddamn sense.
But it was becoming real fucking evident that this was not a view that the majority, if any, of her classmates shared. Like, it had been pretty much expected of those artsy fartsy weirdo fuckers like Luanne and Anasa Pandu that they would be taking this all uber serious, those bitches were probably treating this whole thing like one of their dull as fuck arthouse (more like farthouse) films, all about the dichotomy of life and death and shit like that.
She’d always expected her bestie to be on the same wavelength, though. To be ready to chat shit about anybody and everybody, to fuck around and find out, to prove that all those evenings spent out of their goddamn gourds watching this show hadn’t been put to total waste. And sure, she’d agreed to go along with the search for coke, same as Sergio and Sylvain. But, come on. This was not the same Alaska that Laura knew and loved. Not by a long goddamn shot.
But hey, she was kinda losing the plot a little bit here, kinda losing herself here. Cause hey. Maybe she could fucking understand why Alaska was being so anti-Alaska-y.
Marion’s entire plan had just been to try and work out an escape. That had literally been it, and even though Laura could tell she’d been pretty much wholesale bullshitting and she was working the details out on the fly, and even if she herself wasn’t into the idea (oh hey, was that a declaration of intent? A self-admission? Well by fucking golly, she guessed it was) at all, It was like, hey, good for you, you fucking go for that, like be well aware that 90% of escape attempts self-destructed horribly but if you could be part of that 10% then all the more power to you.
And Sylvain had just fucking… shot her in the chest? Just like that? Like, hey, you know, just one of those things, you roll out of bed, you get dressed, you eat a bowl of knock-off lucky charms, you shoot a girl in the chest, you brush your teeth, no fucking biggie? Cause hey, that was how this cunt seemed to be playing it off, given he seemed way more concerned about the fact he was fucking damp than anything else. Like, what? Had Marion threatened him with a trap door to freedom or something? Did the word ‘escape’ trigger some sleeper cell bullshit in his head that made him go on a wild goddamn rampage? Honestly she couldn’t give two shits what the rationale was, because if Sylvain wasn’t gonna take his excuses and ram them up his tiny dick before leaving forever, then she was half an inch away from just up and fucking off herself.
But she glanced at Alaska as she jostled her shoulder, and her brow furrowed further and she breathed out through her nose. She made a ‘tch’ sound with her tongue. What, exactly, did she have right now? She had no coke, no alcohol, no plan at all. She had a bomb, but she didn’t even fucking know what to do with it. All she actually had was Alaska.
“Sure.”
Her voice was terse as she brushed past her best friend, walking, once more, aimlessly.
“Whatever.”
She wasn’t about to let go of Alaska any goddamn time soon.
((Laura Hakštok continued in Return of the Bear))
When was the last time she had felt actual, legitimate, raw anger?
It had been so goddamn easy not to give a shit up until now, she’d had half a lifetime of practice in that regard, after all. Waking up on the ghost ship, none of that dull shit like crying or screaming or begging or whatever had even crossed her mind, because like, the fuck good would that do her? What was she gonna do, ask the producers really nicely to let her go, tell them she’d flash her tits if they gave her a get out of SOTF free card? Yeah, she’d have a better chance of escaping by sprouting wings and learning how to fucking fly. So like, why take this bullshit so seriously if the outcome was predetermined? Have a laugh, fuck around with people, try and get some coke and booze and shit and get crossfaded beyond goddamn sense.
But it was becoming real fucking evident that this was not a view that the majority, if any, of her classmates shared. Like, it had been pretty much expected of those artsy fartsy weirdo fuckers like Luanne and Anasa Pandu that they would be taking this all uber serious, those bitches were probably treating this whole thing like one of their dull as fuck arthouse (more like farthouse) films, all about the dichotomy of life and death and shit like that.
She’d always expected her bestie to be on the same wavelength, though. To be ready to chat shit about anybody and everybody, to fuck around and find out, to prove that all those evenings spent out of their goddamn gourds watching this show hadn’t been put to total waste. And sure, she’d agreed to go along with the search for coke, same as Sergio and Sylvain. But, come on. This was not the same Alaska that Laura knew and loved. Not by a long goddamn shot.
But hey, she was kinda losing the plot a little bit here, kinda losing herself here. Cause hey. Maybe she could fucking understand why Alaska was being so anti-Alaska-y.
Marion’s entire plan had just been to try and work out an escape. That had literally been it, and even though Laura could tell she’d been pretty much wholesale bullshitting and she was working the details out on the fly, and even if she herself wasn’t into the idea (oh hey, was that a declaration of intent? A self-admission? Well by fucking golly, she guessed it was) at all, It was like, hey, good for you, you fucking go for that, like be well aware that 90% of escape attempts self-destructed horribly but if you could be part of that 10% then all the more power to you.
And Sylvain had just fucking… shot her in the chest? Just like that? Like, hey, you know, just one of those things, you roll out of bed, you get dressed, you eat a bowl of knock-off lucky charms, you shoot a girl in the chest, you brush your teeth, no fucking biggie? Cause hey, that was how this cunt seemed to be playing it off, given he seemed way more concerned about the fact he was fucking damp than anything else. Like, what? Had Marion threatened him with a trap door to freedom or something? Did the word ‘escape’ trigger some sleeper cell bullshit in his head that made him go on a wild goddamn rampage? Honestly she couldn’t give two shits what the rationale was, because if Sylvain wasn’t gonna take his excuses and ram them up his tiny dick before leaving forever, then she was half an inch away from just up and fucking off herself.
But she glanced at Alaska as she jostled her shoulder, and her brow furrowed further and she breathed out through her nose. She made a ‘tch’ sound with her tongue. What, exactly, did she have right now? She had no coke, no alcohol, no plan at all. She had a bomb, but she didn’t even fucking know what to do with it. All she actually had was Alaska.
“Sure.”
Her voice was terse as she brushed past her best friend, walking, once more, aimlessly.
“Whatever.”
She wasn’t about to let go of Alaska any goddamn time soon.
((Laura Hakštok continued in Return of the Bear))
So like, out of everyone here, Sylvain hadn't expected Laura of all people to apparently have the biggest issue with murder. She seemed actually kind of pissed at him for it, and being completely honest for once, Sylvain didn't get it. He didn't understand why now, of all times, Laura "I smoke 10 blunts a day and call people rude names on stream for lolz" Hakštok decided to have a crisis of conscience or something.
Sylvain was the one who'd made the decision to pull the trigger, and he was the one who was going to deal with the fallout, whatever it was and whenever it came, and he knew that. He also knew where they were, and he'd thought that everyone else did too. Laura wasn't even a real teammate here, so where the hell did she get off acting like what he'd done was a problem for her?
Goddamn. Of all the things Sylvain could have called Laura over the years, he never thought high-and-mighty would be on the list.
He didn't have the energy to snap back at her right now. Nothing that came to mind would be witty or cool, and he was still feeling the chill and wanted to just... lay down. Lay down and wait for the announcement to make everything real. And when that happened...
Well, Mari had told him that her group was staying together. He hadn't let her get as far as rattling off a list of where they were going to congregate next, but people left traces, moving in groups.
It was just an idea. One he wasn't sure he'd even voice, but if he did... Alaksa was the only person in the group whose opinion really mattered.
With that in mind, Sylvain dragged himself up to his feet again, bundled his discarded clothes into the towel she'd tossed him, and slipped his feet back into his shoes. They were still uncomfortably damp, but he could deal with it a bit better now that he wasn't soaked and chilled to the bone everywhere else too. And he followed.
((Sylvain Kessler continued elsewhere))
Sylvain was the one who'd made the decision to pull the trigger, and he was the one who was going to deal with the fallout, whatever it was and whenever it came, and he knew that. He also knew where they were, and he'd thought that everyone else did too. Laura wasn't even a real teammate here, so where the hell did she get off acting like what he'd done was a problem for her?
Goddamn. Of all the things Sylvain could have called Laura over the years, he never thought high-and-mighty would be on the list.
He didn't have the energy to snap back at her right now. Nothing that came to mind would be witty or cool, and he was still feeling the chill and wanted to just... lay down. Lay down and wait for the announcement to make everything real. And when that happened...
Well, Mari had told him that her group was staying together. He hadn't let her get as far as rattling off a list of where they were going to congregate next, but people left traces, moving in groups.
It was just an idea. One he wasn't sure he'd even voice, but if he did... Alaksa was the only person in the group whose opinion really mattered.
With that in mind, Sylvain dragged himself up to his feet again, bundled his discarded clothes into the towel she'd tossed him, and slipped his feet back into his shoes. They were still uncomfortably damp, but he could deal with it a bit better now that he wasn't soaked and chilled to the bone everywhere else too. And he followed.
((Sylvain Kessler continued elsewhere))
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Courtography
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The argument was over for now. That was good. Sergio didn't feel like dealing with Laura and Sylvain getting pissed at one another.
Like yeah, Mari died and Sylvain killed her. In normal life that would be really fucking upsetting and there would probably be resources around school for teaching students to emotionally process loss and all that shit.
But here? That's just how it was. Sergio wasn't attached to Mari so there wasn't a point in getting upset. He could grieve over friends, but with everyone else he had to make himself into a stone.
That's what men had to do in these situations, become the hardest stone so you wouldn't break like everyone else.
He followed the others.
(Sergio Gallo continued in Return of the Bear)
Like yeah, Mari died and Sylvain killed her. In normal life that would be really fucking upsetting and there would probably be resources around school for teaching students to emotionally process loss and all that shit.
But here? That's just how it was. Sergio wasn't attached to Mari so there wasn't a point in getting upset. He could grieve over friends, but with everyone else he had to make himself into a stone.
That's what men had to do in these situations, become the hardest stone so you wouldn't break like everyone else.
He followed the others.
(Sergio Gallo continued in Return of the Bear)
Laura brushed free of Alaska and strode off, her voice betraying her anger and Alaska's face faltered. It wasn't much to go off, but it was noticeable. It was especially noticeable if you spent hours every day talking to the same person. Laura was a book Alaska could read by heart, but she didn't need any of that to figure out that her best friend was angry with her.
But she didn't understand why. Sylvain had been the one to kill Mari. She hadn't done anything.
Meanwhile, Sylvain and Sergio had also started making their way onwards.
Leaving Alaska standing on the jetty alone.
Her grip tightened on the screwdriver as she watched the others recede into the distance. The metal head pushing into the flesh of her thigh.
Then it relaxed. She didn't want them to know how she felt.
"Hey guys!" She called as she rushed to catch them. "Wait up."
((Alaska Ferguson continued in Return of the Bear))
But she didn't understand why. Sylvain had been the one to kill Mari. She hadn't done anything.
Meanwhile, Sylvain and Sergio had also started making their way onwards.
Leaving Alaska standing on the jetty alone.
Her grip tightened on the screwdriver as she watched the others recede into the distance. The metal head pushing into the flesh of her thigh.
Then it relaxed. She didn't want them to know how she felt.
"Hey guys!" She called as she rushed to catch them. "Wait up."
((Alaska Ferguson continued in Return of the Bear))