Everyone's Got Their Own Circle of Sorrow

[Deamon]

It wasn't as painful as Freya had expected. You were always told how the stomach or gut was the most painful place to get stabbed. It was also supposed to be next to impossible to fix. If you stabbed someone in their gut you were cutting their intestines to ribbons and that couldn't be fixed, even a team of surgeons struggled. That was to say that while it was painful Freya had been expecting more, instead of an overwhelming pain she mostly felt cold. Although, she supposed that was all a result of the blood loss.

And she was losing a fuck load of blood. She felt Fisher grab her and pull her away from Pippa. That fucking hurt. It probably did more harm than good honestly. She felt her wound move as he maneuvered her, but she appreciated the effort. As Fisher lay into Pippa—better late than never—Freya instead contemplated the fact that she wasn't going to see Galahad after all.

Her one goal was to find the dope and she hadn't managed it. She hoped that wherever he was he was safe and doing alright. It was a long shot but one she could hold onto. The funniest part was he had lasted longer than she had. Funny how that worked out.

She was proud of him.

But it seemed like was still alive for a little bit, so she supposed she needed to make the most of it.

"Hey Fisher," Her voice sounded so weak and far away. She hated it. "Find Galahad yeah? Tell him...tell him he's a fuck." It was effort to get the words out. Her vision was swimming and it was hard to keep her eyes open. Taking a glance down she saw the red pool that was spreading out around her. It was a lot to take in, there was so much. That's what she got for being fucking stupid she supposed.

She looked up, eyes finding Pippa.

Her bloodied hand was raised, middle finger up.

Defiant to the end right?

"Enjoy America...cunt."

Good enough.

F12 - NYGÅRD, FREYA
DECEASED
21 STUDENTS REMAIN

[Laurels]

PIppa watched as Freya bled out on the floor and Fisher harangued her for the decision. Pippa even had to smirk a bit at Freya's final spiteful action and comment. They weren't even in America, and if she won, Pippa sure wasn't planning any holidays there any time soon. She was probably trying to compare her to the Americans who put them here or that nonsense, which Pippa had to find a bit silly. Pippa showed way more restraint than any American soldier, and it was more merciful than how Freya would have killed her. If anything, with her unabashed rage and predilection for violence, Freya was probably more American than she was.

Pippa cleared her throat and picked up her bag, walking away from the dead girl and the mewling boy. She headed over to where Fisher and Freya's supplies were and wiped the blood off the knife and onto Fisher's bag. She then pocketed it in her jacket and grabbed Freya's bag, dropping her own next to Fisher's.

"Well, that should count as self defense," Pippa said aloud. "At the very least, they shouldn't have reason to spin that as more violent than it was."

She wasn't paying attention to Fisher, but she was sure he was still there with Freya's body. She then reached over and picked up Freya's gun.

"Anyways, now that I've eliminated that danger to our lives, I think I'll be going. I don't think we can do much for each other anymore, so it's probably best we go our separate ways. And as a parting gift, you can have my bag."

Pippa turned back to Fisher.

"Good luck out there."

With that, Pippa walked out of the house and into the neighborhood. Freya had challenged her too much and thought it would be fine to just assault Pippa with no consequences. Freya was a powder keg jut waiting to explode, so Pippa probably helped everyone out in the long run. Plus, now she had a better weapon and a bag that contained the how-to guide for it and any spare ammo there might have been. That made up for all of Freya's petty insults and one-dimensional thinking. Pippa could see the bigger picture, and that was how Pippa would survive this abduction.

Pippa continued on through the Western Dwellings. This risk was going to carry a lot of challenge with it, so Pippa had to be prepared for what came next. After all, now everyone would know Pippa was trying to survive this game. If any of them knew her, they would know she's the kind of person who would survive no matter what.

((Pippa Andolini continued elsewhere))

[Cactus]

The blood just wouldn't stop pumping out of Freya's stomach. Each beat of her heart, it squirted through his fingers, staining the fabric of his blazer. He nodded as she instructed him to find Galahad. Okay - he knew Galahad, he could do that. He wasn't a terrible guy. Hadn't killed anyone yet, either. That was good. But-

The blood stopped spurting through his fingers.

Freya's hand thumped to the ground, middle finger outstretched.

"Freya?" His voice was a whisper. "Freya?"

His own breath was ragged, hollow. Fisher Darden looked up at Pippa and didn't recognize who was standing in front of him anymore. He'd thought that he had. For a long while - what was it he'd called her behind her back? The Ice Queen? She'd been uppity; not the kind of person he'd ever have wanted to spend any amount of time with.

But in a life-or-death situation, he could have done worse, right?

Right?

Fisher looked down at Freya, on the ground.

Freya, in his arms.

Freya, dead.

No, that wasn't right at all. He couldn't have found a worse person. She could have helped them with Lena. She could have, oh - I don't know, not stabbed Freya in the fucking stomach! She could have done anything at all except for what she'd done, but she didn't. She didn't, and now two of his classmates were dead, and he was left, defenseless and alone.

Her leaving him the bag was meant to sound magnanimous - Fisher was absolutely sure that Pippa felt absolutely fantastic about herself for that. What a service she was doing him. Giving him an extra bag, oh gee golly, what a gesture. Partly out of fear for his own life as Pippa picked up the musket and partly out of his own shock at what he'd just witnessed, he didn't say a word as Pippa turned and left him behind. He couldn't say a thing. His heart was thundering in his chest worse than it had when he'd awoken to this horrible nightmare. Earlier he'd felt like they were sauntering deeper into the depths of hell. With every step, the flames seemed to singe his eyebrows. The blood on his hands was starting to dry.

None of this seemed real.

Slowly, Fisher rose from Freya's body. He knew that he should have done something for her. A burial, a last rites, something meaningful. Something to illustrate to himself that he still had his humanity intact. Pippa had evidently chosen to leave hers behind. But nothing came to mind. What could he really do, aside from pick up his bag - plural now, thank you very much you murderous bitch - and leave it all behind?

Only one thing came to mind, an apology to Freya. Over and over again.

"I should have been better. I'm sorry."

Saying it out loud didn't make it any less hurtful, nor did it make it feel any better. He had let her down. Fisher should have stepped in before things escalated, but he hadn't. So now?

He'd made her a promise - Galahad - and that seemed as good a place as any to start.

((Fisher Darden continued in Sing Us a Song; You're the Piano Man))