((Caleb Policarpio continued from la guerra de los santos))
Caleb threw up.
He couldn’t remember the last time he’d eaten something, or what he’d even eaten, but now it was soaking into the sand in a way that made him want to puke again if he could. As gross as it was, though, it was a preferable sight to the corpse a few feet away.
It was difficult to spot at first, in the low light and the rain. Despite what they’d said on the announcement, Caleb assumed it was some sort of oddly-shaped log, or a particularly big rock. It didn’t really look like a person from a distance. When he got closer, though, Caleb discovered that it was because its head was gone.
Its legs were still in his peripheral vision. If he turned his head just a little bit, he could get a good view of the mess. He wanted to leave the beach, the island, and whatever the fuck this was, but the sight of the corpse had knocked more than yesterday’s lunch out of him.
So instead he stood still, head bent and chest heaving, watching the rain wash away his own mess.
Who Pilots All These Crude Machines
Night 1, open once Naft joins
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The Honeless Beard
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Tears sprang to Tarren's eyes as she looked at the sight, one shaking palm clamped tight against her mouth as she regarded the pile of flesh that had once been a human person. Her and the boy had managed to get out of the village relatively unscathed, if not unshaken, and on their forced march to a somewhat safe area they'd come across-
A person.
You pity Tarren, and are thankful that you're not her in this moment, that she's buried beneath you as you lower the hand, will it to stop shaking, dry your eyes as subtly as you can as the boy vomits up mostly water onto the rocky ground. Tarren wants to curl a hand on his back, reassure him, but you resist the impulse. You're not her. You're someone new, until this whole thing is over.
You watch impassively, tugging your hat again. Welcome down, it still reads.
"You good?" you ask your nameless companion, but you know the answer.
A person.
You pity Tarren, and are thankful that you're not her in this moment, that she's buried beneath you as you lower the hand, will it to stop shaking, dry your eyes as subtly as you can as the boy vomits up mostly water onto the rocky ground. Tarren wants to curl a hand on his back, reassure him, but you resist the impulse. You're not her. You're someone new, until this whole thing is over.
You watch impassively, tugging your hat again. Welcome down, it still reads.
"You good?" you ask your nameless companion, but you know the answer.
“…Yeah”
Caleb clearly wasn't, but saying otherwise had to mean something, right?
He turned back to the girl. “How about you?”
Caleb clearly wasn't, but saying otherwise had to mean something, right?
He turned back to the girl. “How about you?”
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The Honeless Beard
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"Trying to be," you say, honesty feeling good on your tongue. You feel like there's something here, something you're supposed to say, but nothing springs forwards - just a feeling of dread at the pit of your stomach. Finally, you tilt your head towards the boy, the brim of your cap blocking the corpse from your gaze.
"It smells worse than I thought it would. In- you know, in movies and stuff."
"It smells worse than I thought it would. In- you know, in movies and stuff."
His reply came quicker this time.
“Yeah.”
He hadn’t even thought of the smell of dead bodies before. He’d seen them countless times in movies and video games, and had gotten used to all the blood and guts—not that any of it had prepared him for the real deal. The rain and the sea spray did little to damp the stench, but he was thankful for it anyway.
It was hard to see the girl’s face in the rain, underneath the shade of her baseball cap. He hoped that the rain masked his own bleariness.
Caleb cleared his throat. “So…what’s our plan now?”
“Yeah.”
He hadn’t even thought of the smell of dead bodies before. He’d seen them countless times in movies and video games, and had gotten used to all the blood and guts—not that any of it had prepared him for the real deal. The rain and the sea spray did little to damp the stench, but he was thankful for it anyway.
It was hard to see the girl’s face in the rain, underneath the shade of her baseball cap. He hoped that the rain masked his own bleariness.
Caleb cleared his throat. “So…what’s our plan now?”
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The Honeless Beard
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Welcome Down.
"Get out of the rain, maybe. Don't end up like-" You nod to the corpse, your face briefly appearing beneath the cap, eyes still shimmery but you hold the tears back. Tarren's gone.
"I guess this wasn't a bluff. I was hoping it was - that'd be easier, if we could nod to ourselves and say 'This isn't real.' I was really hoping I was the only one who was willing to - you know. Go for it."
You shrug your shoulders.
"If we don't make someone into that, though, we're probably going to end up close to it, you know?"
"Get out of the rain, maybe. Don't end up like-" You nod to the corpse, your face briefly appearing beneath the cap, eyes still shimmery but you hold the tears back. Tarren's gone.
"I guess this wasn't a bluff. I was hoping it was - that'd be easier, if we could nod to ourselves and say 'This isn't real.' I was really hoping I was the only one who was willing to - you know. Go for it."
You shrug your shoulders.
"If we don't make someone into that, though, we're probably going to end up close to it, you know?"
Us or them.
He didn’t follow the girl’s gaze, but before he could stop himself he saw it in his mind’s eye. Caleb just nodded in reply.
He tilted his head towards the bush and started walking. As he did, he started to wish he had a hat like the girl did. The rain plastered his hair to his forehead and ran in rivulets down his face, making it hard to see. Shielding his forehead with a hand didn’t do much, either.
Caleb found himself missing the sunlight, but he told himself that he’d see it again. He was sure of it.
((Caleb Policarpio and Tarren Joseph continued in Dirge for Shepherds))
He didn’t follow the girl’s gaze, but before he could stop himself he saw it in his mind’s eye. Caleb just nodded in reply.
He tilted his head towards the bush and started walking. As he did, he started to wish he had a hat like the girl did. The rain plastered his hair to his forehead and ran in rivulets down his face, making it hard to see. Shielding his forehead with a hand didn’t do much, either.
Caleb found himself missing the sunlight, but he told himself that he’d see it again. He was sure of it.
((Caleb Policarpio and Tarren Joseph continued in Dirge for Shepherds))