((Jen Mara Tuiqamea continued from Why didn't you do it for me? Why didn't you do it for us?))
Jen did manage to carry herself out of the Fishing Village, running on and on, up over hilly terrain.
It was a poor choice of direction, she realized, though she avoided the undergrowth that would come with charging towards the shore, she now had to clamber over the uneven terrain that lay ahead. Still, she managed it, clearing the hilly area before her legs finally gave out and Jen fell to the ground by the side of the river.
Pain shot up from her hip when she collided with the ground, drawing a sharp cry from her throat, and her eyes squeezed shut. It was incredibly foolish to go running off like this. What had she even been running from, other than bodies?
Gritting her teeth, arms shaking a bit, Jen began to push herself back up, getting herself steadied on hands and knees before slumping back and to the side, getting herself into a seated position.
Breathing through gritted teeth, Jen tried to steady herself, only to feel hot tears stream down her cheeks.
They were for Leander, a boy that she didn’t know, a stranger that had saved her. They were for the others that had died, their names read off in announcements that previous morning and night. They were for herself, because she would most certainly die here too.
Jen buried her face in her hands. She was alone again.
click.
Multishot
Moderator: SOTF International Staff
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Catche Jagger
- Posts: 743
- Joined: Tue May 28, 2019 7:40 pm
- Team Affiliation: Ben's Crabs
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Catche Jagger
- Posts: 743
- Joined: Tue May 28, 2019 7:40 pm
- Team Affiliation: Ben's Crabs
The sun went down and darkness rolled over the island once again. It brought with it words, carried on the air, just like the previous night, and just like before, they were mostly names, mostly strangers, strangers who killed, strangers who died.
This time, Leander was among them, alongside his killer. The boy who had stabbed Leander was named Ajay Bachmeyer. Part of her was glad to have a name to go along with the face, the rest of her knew that it didn’t matter. Jen hated that Leander had died, that she’d been left alone, but she didn’t hate Ajay.
It was just the game, the same game that Adrian had played when he had pushed her. Leander had claimed to see him back at the village, but Jen had not, and despite his violent actions at the start of the game, he had yet to appear in the announcements. Of course, Jen knew by this point, “Adrian” may not have been Adrian at all.
Maybe he had already killed. Maybe he had already died. Jen would probably never know for sure.
Jen blinked.
This time, Leander was among them, alongside his killer. The boy who had stabbed Leander was named Ajay Bachmeyer. Part of her was glad to have a name to go along with the face, the rest of her knew that it didn’t matter. Jen hated that Leander had died, that she’d been left alone, but she didn’t hate Ajay.
It was just the game, the same game that Adrian had played when he had pushed her. Leander had claimed to see him back at the village, but Jen had not, and despite his violent actions at the start of the game, he had yet to appear in the announcements. Of course, Jen knew by this point, “Adrian” may not have been Adrian at all.
Maybe he had already killed. Maybe he had already died. Jen would probably never know for sure.
Jen blinked.
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Catche Jagger
- Posts: 743
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She watched on the back of her eyelids as she stood up, leaving behind her weapons and bag, and simply walked into the river. The cool water lapped against her skin, refreshing her, bringing new life.
She stepped deeper. Where the water touched, Jen was healed, aches easing, bruises vanishing. Not only was she healed, but she felt lighter somehow, freed.
She smiled as she took another step forward and the water subsumed her.
Jen’s eyes opened again.
She stepped deeper. Where the water touched, Jen was healed, aches easing, bruises vanishing. Not only was she healed, but she felt lighter somehow, freed.
She smiled as she took another step forward and the water subsumed her.
Jen’s eyes opened again.
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Catche Jagger
- Posts: 743
- Joined: Tue May 28, 2019 7:40 pm
- Team Affiliation: Ben's Crabs
Photography and foodie culture no longer lined up for her the way that they used to back in Oakland. Those hobbies were so interlinked for her then, but that was a product of a group of friends that now lived an ocean away, a dynamic that could not simply be replicated or persist in the same way across such a gulf.
That was not the only part of returning to Savusavu that had left her feeling so strange. In some ways, the return felt more alienating than having left for California so many years earlier. She’d been so young, making that first trip, her sense of the world so unfixed, and after all, Oakland didn’t need to be her home at first, just the place that she was staying. But Savusavu was supposed to be home, and the photos from her family and their calls could not prepare her for how it would feel to stand in the new Savusavu, how it would feel to know that their lives really had moved on in the decade without her.
Places and people were familiar on some level, but had been covered over in some new paint, a bit of wear and tear, a bit of gloss thrown over the thing. Even in matters she could not exactly recall, half-remembered childhood experiences colored in the holes with a sense of wrongness.
Above all else, returning home had been disorienting.
It was a feeling that she kept to herself, though. It hadn’t been the fault of her family, that they had changed, that it seemed that her father had grown away from everyone. It wasn’t the fault of the tourists, for whom the town had changed. No, the problem was her own. Jen would figure herself out.
And so Jen’s photography changed to suit her new, old world. Old habits and styles were not replaced, but new ones were picked up. Now, from time to time, Jen would take the DSLR camera that had been given to her when she left Oakland as she walked around Savusavu. Out and about, Jen would take pictures of the spots that caught her eye, not of the newer active main street attractions, nor of the wilderness trails that the tourists made their home. Instead, she sought to find small places, nooks and crannies that reminded her of a Savusavu that may never have existed anywhere but in distant memories.
Scanning the landscape, she could see two trees which crossed one another and seemed to intertwine in an almost uniform fashion, their shared shadow stretched out by the afternoon sun. Jen would squat down and pound her camera at the silhouette cast upon the ground, careful that she angled herself so that her own shadow would remain out of frame.
Steadying her hand, Jen pressed her finger down and heard a satisfying
click.
That was not the only part of returning to Savusavu that had left her feeling so strange. In some ways, the return felt more alienating than having left for California so many years earlier. She’d been so young, making that first trip, her sense of the world so unfixed, and after all, Oakland didn’t need to be her home at first, just the place that she was staying. But Savusavu was supposed to be home, and the photos from her family and their calls could not prepare her for how it would feel to stand in the new Savusavu, how it would feel to know that their lives really had moved on in the decade without her.
Places and people were familiar on some level, but had been covered over in some new paint, a bit of wear and tear, a bit of gloss thrown over the thing. Even in matters she could not exactly recall, half-remembered childhood experiences colored in the holes with a sense of wrongness.
Above all else, returning home had been disorienting.
It was a feeling that she kept to herself, though. It hadn’t been the fault of her family, that they had changed, that it seemed that her father had grown away from everyone. It wasn’t the fault of the tourists, for whom the town had changed. No, the problem was her own. Jen would figure herself out.
And so Jen’s photography changed to suit her new, old world. Old habits and styles were not replaced, but new ones were picked up. Now, from time to time, Jen would take the DSLR camera that had been given to her when she left Oakland as she walked around Savusavu. Out and about, Jen would take pictures of the spots that caught her eye, not of the newer active main street attractions, nor of the wilderness trails that the tourists made their home. Instead, she sought to find small places, nooks and crannies that reminded her of a Savusavu that may never have existed anywhere but in distant memories.
Scanning the landscape, she could see two trees which crossed one another and seemed to intertwine in an almost uniform fashion, their shared shadow stretched out by the afternoon sun. Jen would squat down and pound her camera at the silhouette cast upon the ground, careful that she angled herself so that her own shadow would remain out of frame.
Steadying her hand, Jen pressed her finger down and heard a satisfying
click.
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Catche Jagger
- Posts: 743
- Joined: Tue May 28, 2019 7:40 pm
- Team Affiliation: Ben's Crabs
With a mighty roar, the shotgun flashed and kicked back into her shoulder. Jen let out a grunt and nearly landed flat on her back, only to catch herself and go down to a knee instead.
She had not remained at the River long after the announcement had finished. She felt too open there, exposed, and so she had soon picked up her things and moved to the rainforest that dominated the north of her map. It took some time, lugging around two large guns, their ammunition, and other supplies on her own, but she felt a bit more at ease when she arrived. It suited her other needs better as well.
Leander had promised to show her how to properly use her rifle, but he had died before getting much chance to do so. Now Jen would have to try to learn on her own.
What was she doing this for, though? Would she have it in her to shoot if she had to? From her recollection, she had not even properly tried to shoot Adrian after he struck her. No, that had been an accident, something like a reflex, proven when she did nothing in the face of Leander’s killer.
As Jen rose to her feet, her mind circled itself of the question of her restraint, whether to consider it a show of mercy or one of weakness. In the moment, such a question did not and would not matter, but here she could not help but come back to it.
She exchanged the shotgun for the rifle she’d been assigned at the beginning of the game. She was more used to carrying this one. It still felt odd, uncomfortable in her hands, but there was at least some familiarity there.
“I… we can do this.” She muttered to herself, swallowing a bit as she aimed at another of the nearby trees.
Looking down the sights almost reminded Jen of her camera.
She depressed the trigger.
((Jen Mara Tuiqamea continued elsewhere...))
She had not remained at the River long after the announcement had finished. She felt too open there, exposed, and so she had soon picked up her things and moved to the rainforest that dominated the north of her map. It took some time, lugging around two large guns, their ammunition, and other supplies on her own, but she felt a bit more at ease when she arrived. It suited her other needs better as well.
Leander had promised to show her how to properly use her rifle, but he had died before getting much chance to do so. Now Jen would have to try to learn on her own.
What was she doing this for, though? Would she have it in her to shoot if she had to? From her recollection, she had not even properly tried to shoot Adrian after he struck her. No, that had been an accident, something like a reflex, proven when she did nothing in the face of Leander’s killer.
As Jen rose to her feet, her mind circled itself of the question of her restraint, whether to consider it a show of mercy or one of weakness. In the moment, such a question did not and would not matter, but here she could not help but come back to it.
She exchanged the shotgun for the rifle she’d been assigned at the beginning of the game. She was more used to carrying this one. It still felt odd, uncomfortable in her hands, but there was at least some familiarity there.
“I… we can do this.” She muttered to herself, swallowing a bit as she aimed at another of the nearby trees.
Looking down the sights almost reminded Jen of her camera.
She depressed the trigger.
((Jen Mara Tuiqamea continued elsewhere...))