A Pity Sight for the Magpie

[delicateMachine]

Daniel had to admit it felt kinda crappy to hear people talking about him like he was a ghost or in a coma or a comatose comaghost or something; even if he hadn't exactly been trying his hardest to prove them wrong. As much as he resented the trillion (that was a good number probably) little stars that the sun had shattered into behind his eyes; he found that it was getting a bit easier to concentrate on the world around him now.

Like, not that much easier, and god did it still suck, but at least he could theoretically contribute to a conversation if he was feeling particularly ambitious.

Daniel decided that he wasn't feeling particularly ambitious. Brandon seemed like he it together. He could perfectly fulfill his duties as backup-host of the house party until all the stars in sky died and there was finally no more light to torture him.

[Wham Yubeesling]

And that was confirmation. Daniel was okay. Honestly - again - the idea that he couldn’t was barely even a possibility in Maxwell’s mind but he still felt that relief, he still felt thankful at the fact that his friend - more like an acquaintance, to be honest - was alive. Was likely going to be okay. He wasn’t quite sure why he felt that relief, he wasn’t sure why he was acting as if Daniel wasn’t, but he was going to take that fact, take that relief as it was. There wasn’t any point in doubting himself. There wasn't any point in looking for negatives about the situation. Daniel was likely going to be okay. Brandon seemed that he was friendly now. Those were good things.

And honestly, those were the only things he could really consider as positives to this whole experience.

So he nodded.

Tried to smile.

Tried not to move - tried not to jump right out of his skin - as the fourth voice entered the cabin. Yasmin. Quiet girl. Arty girl. Someone that Maxwell had been in the proximity of, once or twice.

Someone who wasn’t killing them right now. Someone that didn’t seem like a threat to Maxwell.

So he paused. Took a breath as he nodded at Yasmin. Tried to smile again before he answered Brandon’s - Baxter’s; he was Baxter again - questions.

“No. I haven’t.”

A pause.

“Not yet, anyway.”

[Deamon]

Yaz coughed slightly in an attempt to clear her throat. It wasn't successful and just left her feeling like a idiot instead. Brandon was also whispering for some reason which only served to make her more embarrassed because she wasn't putting the voice she was using on purpose. She had no say in the matter because her throat was deciding to rebel against whatever gas their kidnappers had seen fit to use of them. It was joined in it's rebelling by her legs, arms, and just her whole body in general.

She shook her head in response to the question Brandon had asked, sliding along the wall and further into the room as she did so.

"No." She croaked out, her voice sounding no better. That fucker.

Nodding her head in Daniels direction she spoke again, her voice still scratchy and quiet.

"What's wrong with him?"

[The Honeless Beard]

Baxter moved towards the window nearest him, putting him to the left of Maxwell and his back facing Yaz. He stood slightly to the left of the glass, so that he needed to lean a little bit to see - and, hopefully, to be seen. His eyes moved around the landscape as he listened, nodding absently at both of their responses.

At Maxwell's not yet, his eyes cut to him, eyebrow raised. That sounded... ominous, like Maxwell planned on seeing people, and soon. Briefly, he wondered how many grudges the other boy had racked up back at home.

Filing it away, he turned towards Yaz, shrugged wide shoulders.

"I'm going to stay with him," he said in a low voice, "see if he gets any better. It's not a concussion from what I can tell."

He looked towards Maxwell, then pointed at the window, gesture casual, like come take a look at this before moving back towards Daniel.

"Daniel, do you need water or something? Maybe like, a cold cloth for your head?"

[delicateMachine]

Ugh. Brandon was probably expecting Daniel to reply, again. Hadn't he just talked like three minutes ago? How much more blood would be spilled before his insatiable hunger for very badly-spoken words was sated? This was really just unreasonable.

"Muh, maybe? Probably? I don't think literally anything could make me feel any worse sowemightaswelltryyknow..."

Might as well make it easier on Brandon, if he was gonna be a total cool friend and grab him a bottle of water. Daniel sat up with a groan. If he was the vulgar type he probably wouldn't have stopped swearing from the moment he  had woken up; but he wasn't gonna let a terror headache win out over a lifetime of having a pre-soapwashed mouth. Hm. Did that make him sound more or less profane? 'Cause like, if his mouth already had been washed there'd never be a need to stuff more soap in there, but wasn't swearing the only reason that'd happen in the first place?

His head spun with the possibilities of language and also literal dizziness; ah geeze maybe he was moving too fast. Not wanting to collapse and bump his head again, Daniel carefully scooched himself over to the closest wall so it could support his back and maybe also his soul.

"I thin..k I'm, uh, allergic to being kidnapped, guys..." Daniel said, groaning again for good measure, clutching his head with one hand but not like, hard enough to apply any actual pressure and find brand new ways to experience bad headfeelings.

[Wham Yubeesling]

The room had faded to silence.

Not literally, of course. The words revolved around the room - Yasmin trying to speak, Baxter trying to help Daniel, Daniel trying to help himself - but they didn’t include Maxwell, they didn’t grab his attention. Daniel looked to be recovering - Daniel looked as if he didn’t need Maxwell’s help - so Maxwell wasn’t needed by any of the three. Normally, he’d leave the conversation. Normally - at school, at a party, anywhere where the topic of the conversation didn’t interest him - he would go somewhere else. Talk with the people within that conversation. Immerse in topics far more interesting than the one he had previously been in.

And that had been a good option. That had been a socially capable option. Maxwell knew that he was his own favourite topic, but he knew that nobody else thought the same way. He knew that people wouldn’t like it if he made the conversation cater to his whims, so he went to a place where it did. He went to a place where he could talk as freely as he wanted to.

But he couldn’t do that now.

Because there was only one conversation in here. One he wasn’t needed in. One that - as pleasing as it was that Daniel seemed to be alive - didn’t interest him.

Of course, he knew he could leave. The door to this cabin was right there. One movement, one step, and he could go and find another conversation.

But he knew he couldn’t do that.

He knew he couldn’t just leave.

Because it was like what he thought back in the bedroom, back in that moment where he realized where he was, planned what he would do, he knew one thing. He knew he wasn’t going to die here. He knew he wasn’t going to let them win. He knew that there would probably be people fighting already. Killing already. He didn’t want to see those people. He didn’t want to have to risk meeting them. He wanted to be here, with people he trusted. With people he knew were friendly. With the three people on this island that he had met already. That he knew weren’t planning on attacking anything else.

So when Brandon motioned him to look out the window, he didn’t object. He looked. Out the window.

“No people. Only trees,” he said, reporting to the rest of the room as Brandon went over to Daniel. As he said his intention to stay with him.

Maxwell considered that, for a second.

Considered what he was going to say for a brief period longer.

“I would also like to stay, if that’s okay. It doesn’t necessarily have to be in this cabin, but…”

He paused, for a moment.

Considered the next part of his sentence.

“For all I know, everyone else out there could already be trying to kill one another. I think it would be for the best if we didn’t stick our chances with them.”

[Deamon]

Maxwell made a good point. They didn't know what was going on outside.

"May-" Yaz stopped herself and sniffed. It would have been childish to think people weren't going to take part in the sick game they had been placed in. There were always people who believed that they were more important then everyone else. It would be those people that decided to participate.

It was surprising to her that Maxwell wasn't in that group. He had always seemed to carry himself in that kind of way, at least whenever she saw him walking around school. Maybe it was just something he did in public. Whatever, it didn't matter now.

Her presence in the group had firmly been established now, they were talking to her and including her in their discussion so Yaz moved closer to them and then slid down the wall to sit, feeling the cold of her collar as she rubbed her throat.

"Yeah that make sense." Her voice, still quiet and scratchy didn't exactly carry much weight. She coughed and went about getting some water out of her bag. Drinking something may have some effect on sorting out her vocal issues.

"I don't mind you staying."

Nope, voice was still fucked. Great.

Despite that she thought staying together would be better. If anyone was looking to try and kill their way home they would all be safer if they stuck together.

[The Honeless Beard]

At Daniel's proclamation, Baxter let out a small exhale through his nose - a laugh trying to escape his body, being smothered by the oppressive weight of the situation they found themselves in. He bent back down to the bag again, knuckles brushing against the fabric of the bag before his hands found their way inside and came back up with a bottle of water and the medkit he assumed they all had.

He opened the flaps on the kit, pulling out some gauze, and handed both it and the bottle of water to Daniel.

"Wet the fabric and wrap it around your eyes," he said, "it'll help keep the light out. My mom used to do that when she'd get headaches."

He stood again, letting out a small grunt at he pain in his leg, and turned towards the other two, eyes settling on either of them as if seeing them for the first time. Yaz was a little shell-shocked, it seemed - her voice led him to believe that either she was really shy or she had some sort of throat infection. The more she talked, however, had him leaning more towards option B than A.

Maxwell, on the other hand, was being reasonable, calm. His initial suspicions that he'd somehow hurt Daniel had dissipated into a relief that he'd been here when Daniel had awoken. He'd stood by the window when Baxter had pointed to it, he'd reported on the findings, asked to stick around.

Daniel was tall, skinny, and crippled with a headache. Baxter knew Daniel the most - Daniel was friends with Rachael, and Baxter felt a sudden, fierce pang - but otherwise their paths hadn't crossed a ton. Daniel could run, though - being part of the other football team.

So, two assholes, a tiny girl, and a dude with a migraine walk into a bar...

"Cool," he responded to both Yasmin and Maxwell, then reached to his side and pulled out the 8 inch bowie knife he'd been awarded. The handle was gold and black, blade long and sharp - his thumb could attest to that, the angry red line still visible on the pad of it - and showed them.

"First thing's first, then. What'd you guys get?"

[delicateMachine]

"I've got a headache. Baaaaa-dumtiss," Daniel mumbled as he followed Brandon's advice; wrapping the dampened cloth around his eyes, failing to notice the knife that had just been pulled out. His fingers fumbled a bit but he didn't like poke himself in the eye or anything and regret everything about his existence, so that was nice. That was cool.

Maxwell and the girl (that he probably would have recognized if her voice wasn't messed up and he hadn't just blindfolded himself) were talking about sticking around, and since neither of them had like kicked him in the ribs or stole his wallet that was just fine by Daniel. Like, not that he would have expected that from Maxwell anyways; guy could be a donk, yeah, but he'd been in book club for years. Book club meant something, didn't it?

As for Brandon, he was friends with Johnny, and Johnny was a cool dude, so even though Daniel didn't know the guy too well that meant he had to inherit like, at least half of Johnny's coolness levels, right? And Johnny had cool to spare. Wasn't a bad feeling to have a beefy football guy around that he could trust, either; and considering that his remedy was already doing wonders to smooth the edges of the spiky dodecahedron that had been repeatedly ramming into his brain, Daniel felt nothing but trust. An overflowing well of gratitude and camaraderie. Good vibes, man.

"My bag's... probably, uh, somewhere?" Daniel gestured vaguely towards the entire rest of the room. "Haven't opened it yet, so, like, feel free?" He had kind of been too busy dying internally to care.

[Wham Yubeesling]

He could hear the affirmations of the people behind him. He could hear them agree to the idea that yes, staying with each other was good.

And he smiled, as he turned away from the window and the outside world. Towards the three of them - Daniel still on the floor, Brandon holding his knife, Yasmin standing around. The three of them had just agreed with him to form a group, to stay with each other at least until further notice.

And when he’d heard their voices, when he’d heard their agreements, he’d felt a sense of... pride come up within him. The idea of being on this island, the idea of having to play this game felt okay now.

And he knew that this alliance wouldn’t last forever.

And he knew that these people might not have been his ideal ones to work with.

But it didn’t matter. Right now this group, this cabin was fine.

“I’m glad we’re all in agreement.”

He heard Brandon’s question. Nodded at him. Slung his bag off his shoulder onto the ground, in order to show the weapon he had to the other three.

And as he took it out of his bag, as his mind drew attention to what it actually was, he grimaced. Dropped his smile as he brought the familiar yellow outfit out of his bag.

“This is… what I have. Rest assured, I’m… probably not going to use it to fight all that much.”

[Deamon]

Yaz turned the knife over in her pocket debating the merits of showing it to the others. It wasn't a very long debate in her head, she needed to show them because if she didn't it would just cause more problems further down the line.

If they believed she was a liar she would be in trouble and on top of that the whole group seemed to be friendly, so fuck it. There was no harm in sharing.

"I have this," She croaked, holding the knife up so they could all see it. "It already has blood on." She continued hating how her voice sounded and used her other hand to feed her throat more water.

At the very least it was better than what Maxwell had. She couldn't stop herself smiling a little whenever she looked at it but used her hand and the water bottle to hide it. The onesie was just so out of place in the situation they found themselves in. It was funny and cute, and they were trapped in a world that was going to descend into fear and blood. A little bit of levity like that went a long way.

She was about to say something but stopped herself. What if Maxwell didn't find it funny? What if he got angry and left? What if she started an argument and the whole group split apart before it even truly formed?

So instead of speaking again she just replaced the knife in her pocket and went back to rubbing her throat while occasionally sipping from her water.

[The Honeless Beard]

Baxter nodded at both of them in turn, fishing out his knife sheath that attached across his belt loops. He slid the bowie back into it's sheath, buckled the strap to secure the handle in place, and then crouched towards the floor, sliding it towards Maxwell. The knife made a skittering noise as it traveled across the floorboards, rotating slowly until it came to a stop - handle first - near Maxwell's shoe.

"Keep it secret," Baxter drawled, "keep it safe."

Limping still, he moved towards Daniel's bag and unzipped it, fishing around until he came up with a blue and black looking toy that was shaped like a gun. He frowned down at it, rotated it in the brightening light, mouth opening and closing around the sheer exasperation at a literal children's toy.

"Damn, Daniel," he muttered, affecting a stereotypical, high-pitched voice, "back at it again with the-" he checked the manual "fucking plastic pistol."

He turned it around in his hands, wondering if it'd be hard to break. Then, he set it back into the bag.

"Between you and Maxwell, Daniel, we have a high chance of making someone laugh to death."

[delicateMachine]

"Uhh, hey, you guys mind doing an audio recap or something? 'Cause, like, you're all being pretty vague in a way that'd probably be meaningful if I didn't have this thing on."

Like yeah, Daniel got the gist of it all, but no reason to keep himself in the dark any more than he literally was, right? At least Brandon had spelled out what his weapon was; and it came as a relief to hear it wasn't dangerous to anyone except mimes. Daniel couldn't bear the thought of holding a human life in his hands, just a split-second's worth of effort to end it. Couldn't bear the thought of being complicit in what might happen if the gun got in someone significantly less friendly.

Daniel had been sitting at the back of the bus with Rachael, before anyone realized what was going on. Had been too busy talking with her to pay too much attention to what his teacher was doing near the front. Had only caught the execution in his peripheral vision, had only seen the body. His subconscious  hadn't wasted any time filling in the blanks in his memory with the gruesomest, most visceral scenes it could conjure.

God. Rachael. There was a time and a place to think about what it meant, what it really meant that she was on the island too; but that happened to coincide with the time and place for him to completely break down crying; and he was pretty sure this wasn't it. Even with this new falling sensation in his stomach joining forces with his still-screaming headache, Daniel could still keep himself from messing up the mood, right?

"But Brandon, please tell me it's a nerf gun, man. If it's a water pistol I'll have to choose between staying hydrated or being able to shoot people, with my water pistol. I'm not sure I could take that pressure?" Truly too much to ask of any one man.

[Wham Yubeesling]

“Right,” Maxwell said, nodding as he picked up Baxter’s knife, as he undid the sheath and looked at the blade. It was large - bigger than his hand - and the silver - the colour of the blade - showed his reflection. Showed his face, trying to smile. Trying to look thankful. To be honest, Maxwell wasn’t entirely sure as to why Baxter would give him the knife like that. Was he giving something that Maxwell could defend himself with? Was he trying to spread battle capability around? Did he seriously believe that he could take on anyone out there with his own bare hands? Maxwell wasn’t sure, and to be honest, he was probably going to have to expect that by this point. All the possibilities in his head, all the possible explanations as to why Baxter would just give his weapon away didn’t add up. Didn’t make sense. Didn’t work, considering the environment.

That didn’t matter, though. The point was he could defend himself now. Fight off others.

Attack, if he had to. If the time was right.

Right now though wasn’t that time. Even though a slight pang of irritation came up as Baxter made that awful joke to Daniel (seriously, even when it was considered actually funny it annoyed Maxwell - enough to the point that it somewhat justified why some people were on the totem pole) he knew that doing anything because of it would be petty. Pointless.

Idiotic, considering where they were. Considering the group Maxwell was with. They had joined up with each other. They were planning to bear this game together. Doing something against that would be doing something against his own survival.

So he supposed, for better or worse, he would have to do something to benefit this group.

Or, at the very least, look as if he was doing so.

“Would it be a good idea if we explore the area around us?” He asked, replying to nobody’s statement in particular. “If we are being pursued, or otherwise have to leave this cabin, it would be a good idea to know where we can possibly go.”

[Deamon]

It was amazing to Yaz that somehow she didn't have the worst weapon. She had assumed the terrorists weapon choices would have all been something that could easily have been used to end a human life. Instead it turned out that they enjoyed putting whatever useless pieces of crap that they had lying around in the bags as weapons just to fuck with people.

Well mission accomplished guys. They could consider them well and truly fucked with.

Maxwell had only been armed with a Pikachu onesie until Baxter had given him his knife and Daniel had been given a toy gun. So somehow having a bloodstained knife meant Yaz had ended up with one of the top two weapons of everyone in the room.

Luckily everyone seemed to be taking it in stride and Yaz had to admit it was funny in a black humour way. But that may have just been that compared to the insanity of the rest of the situation they had found themselves embroiled in discovering some of their weapons weren't as deadly as first thought was the funniest thing that had happened.

She smiled weakly and rubbed her throat.

Unfortunately the reality of the situation was reintroduced by Maxwell.

He was right though. They'd need to know their surroundings in case anything happened. If they had to run from someone it wouldn't be any good if they all scattered with no idea where they were going.

"Yeah you're right."

Her voice was still raspy, causing Yaz to pull a face as she shoved her water back into her pack. Like Daniel she must have been having a reaction the gas the terrorists had used. As she did so she spotted the edge of what appeared to be a map and gently pulled it out of her bag.

"Hey, I have this."

She unfolded it and laid it out on the floor in front of her.

"It might be helpful?" She offered with a weak shrug as she felt herself go red and her temperature increase.

She hated being the center of attention and yet here she was attracting it.

Accidentally sure, but she still didn't want any of it.