Lucille's elbow hit Sylvain's lower back, tipping his balance in tandem with his forward momentum. Her added weight crashing into him took him off his feet, but kept him going just enough to nearly reach his goal. His hand struck the gun without managing to grab, sending it clattering to the floor half a second before the tangle of Sylvain and Lucille crashed down nearby.
Lucille was smaller than him, but not by much. She was stronger than you'd think, given her size and general fashionista-ness. The sharp impact of her elbow hurt, battering against the ridge of bone of a vertebra, barely cushioned by his shirt and vest. There was a jolt down to his hips and legs in answer, the same feeling that you got when you hit your funny bone, a stab of pain and then pins and needles.
When they hit the floor together, the wind was briefly knocked out of Sylvain. The tightness in his chest, combined with the momentary numbness of his legs, gave him a beautiful, thrilling, terrifying moment of thinking that he had just made a lethal mistake.
Then his lungs opened up, and he sucked in what he thought to be the most satisfying breath of his life thus far, and Sylvain dug his fingers into the floor to propel himself up and forward with all the desperation of someone clawing their way towards the only cure in the world for the deadliest disease of all, dullness. Lucille came with him, dragging him back down, but it wouldn't matter. His reach was closer to the gun.
But my favorites are the ones who find the way to be themselves in their art.
Evening of Day One. Private, PM for no reason
-
SansaSaver
- Posts: 197
- Joined: Wed Sep 05, 2018 9:15 pm
Lucille’s scream tore through the air as the unearthly silence of the room exploded into chaos.
Sylvain lunged for the gun and Lucille pounced on him in response. There was a flurry of elbows, grunts of pain and panic, and Sofia found herself on autopilot. All those minutes of thinking, chewing, mulling over nothing gave way to pure action as she hoisted herself up and sprinted across the room.
There was no time for panic or introspection now.
Her heels, bag, and bugle lay abandoned as she found herself with two potential targets, becoming ever-nearer. The fray of Lucille, face etched with fury and stubbornness, and a pinned-down Sylvain, who was resisting with all his might and inching steadily but painstakingly slowly towards his prize, and the gun itself. Gleaming, abandoned, ripe for the taking.
In one fluid motion, Sofia sidestepped the others and launched herself towards the weapon. She scooped it up, holding it gingerly at first then letting her fingers tighten around it. The gun felt cold to the touch, yet oddly warm and comforting. Like one final puzzle piece slotting perfectly in place. She was no longer freefalling; that chance and hope she’d tried to cling to suddenly felt solid and real.
Sofia’s hands were shaking, even as she locked eyes with the pair before her and levelled the barrel directly between Sylvain’s eyes.
Sylvain lunged for the gun and Lucille pounced on him in response. There was a flurry of elbows, grunts of pain and panic, and Sofia found herself on autopilot. All those minutes of thinking, chewing, mulling over nothing gave way to pure action as she hoisted herself up and sprinted across the room.
There was no time for panic or introspection now.
Her heels, bag, and bugle lay abandoned as she found herself with two potential targets, becoming ever-nearer. The fray of Lucille, face etched with fury and stubbornness, and a pinned-down Sylvain, who was resisting with all his might and inching steadily but painstakingly slowly towards his prize, and the gun itself. Gleaming, abandoned, ripe for the taking.
In one fluid motion, Sofia sidestepped the others and launched herself towards the weapon. She scooped it up, holding it gingerly at first then letting her fingers tighten around it. The gun felt cold to the touch, yet oddly warm and comforting. Like one final puzzle piece slotting perfectly in place. She was no longer freefalling; that chance and hope she’d tried to cling to suddenly felt solid and real.
Sofia’s hands were shaking, even as she locked eyes with the pair before her and levelled the barrel directly between Sylvain’s eyes.
Sylvain laughed.
Okay, it was more of a giggle, with a sharp nervous edge, and there was a muted crunch underneath his chest that he'd been ignoring in the effort to drag himself to the gun - his sunglasses, still clipped onto the front of his shirt, had broken when his and Lucille's combined weight landed on them. One of the earpieces was digging uncomfortably into his sternum.
The cat ears had been knocked off too in the fray. RIP cat ears, 2021-2021. Greatest tragedy of them all.
Sofia was pointing the gun directly at his face, and he was staring into the black, empty void at the end of the barrel that stood out even darker than their nighttime surroundings, and Sylvain laughed.
He didn't try to grab for it or knock it out of her grasp. That ship had, clearly, sailed. Pun sadly intended. Lucille was dead weight on his back, and for all the movement he'd have to manage to close the gap that remained between him and Sofia, all Sofia had to do was pull the trigger.
"Well?" Sylvain's voice split the sudden quiet, still lilting up at the end. The white irises of his contacts caught what little light there was, gleaming as his gaze flicked up from the barrel of the gun to Sofia's face and back.
He bit back another nervous giggle.
Okay, it was more of a giggle, with a sharp nervous edge, and there was a muted crunch underneath his chest that he'd been ignoring in the effort to drag himself to the gun - his sunglasses, still clipped onto the front of his shirt, had broken when his and Lucille's combined weight landed on them. One of the earpieces was digging uncomfortably into his sternum.
The cat ears had been knocked off too in the fray. RIP cat ears, 2021-2021. Greatest tragedy of them all.
Sofia was pointing the gun directly at his face, and he was staring into the black, empty void at the end of the barrel that stood out even darker than their nighttime surroundings, and Sylvain laughed.
He didn't try to grab for it or knock it out of her grasp. That ship had, clearly, sailed. Pun sadly intended. Lucille was dead weight on his back, and for all the movement he'd have to manage to close the gap that remained between him and Sofia, all Sofia had to do was pull the trigger.
"Well?" Sylvain's voice split the sudden quiet, still lilting up at the end. The white irises of his contacts caught what little light there was, gleaming as his gaze flicked up from the barrel of the gun to Sofia's face and back.
He bit back another nervous giggle.
(So this was what she'd trained for. Heavier, stronger than he'd expected. Pinning him by the center of his mass)
ES09's arm, just barely out of range of the gun, fingers scrabbling and clawing over one another.
(He wouldn't reach it in time. She could see the flesh of his throat, where the vague fuzz texture of his buzz ended. Smooth. She had two hands and didn't need either of them, she reached out, she grabbed and pulled back and squeezed. That was how this was supposed to go)
SB05 remained still, inert. Positional advantage, but ES09 got close enough to the gun for that to be moot. Until there was a third, who had moved faster than SB05. Who had been more decisive.
The girl ineffectually pinning his body below the chest, her limbs like tent stakes awkwardly flopped over the earth, looked up. The gun wasn't pointed at her but she could still see the barrel. The boy below her would feel the slack suddenly in her muscles, those powerfully built, impressive edifices of hard work and motivation. Meaningless, as she shrunk away from her own teammate.
("Sofia-")
(Slipping)
(Slipping? She was slipping?)
Balance lost, she toppled to one side off the bench.
ES09's arm, just barely out of range of the gun, fingers scrabbling and clawing over one another.
(He wouldn't reach it in time. She could see the flesh of his throat, where the vague fuzz texture of his buzz ended. Smooth. She had two hands and didn't need either of them, she reached out, she grabbed and pulled back and squeezed. That was how this was supposed to go)
SB05 remained still, inert. Positional advantage, but ES09 got close enough to the gun for that to be moot. Until there was a third, who had moved faster than SB05. Who had been more decisive.
The girl ineffectually pinning his body below the chest, her limbs like tent stakes awkwardly flopped over the earth, looked up. The gun wasn't pointed at her but she could still see the barrel. The boy below her would feel the slack suddenly in her muscles, those powerfully built, impressive edifices of hard work and motivation. Meaningless, as she shrunk away from her own teammate.
("Sofia-")
(Slipping)
(Slipping? She was slipping?)
Balance lost, she toppled to one side off the bench.
Upcoming:
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Relations Thread!
Olivia Fischer (original handler, Maraoone)
Memories: 1 Pregame: 1
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Second Chances V3 (deconreconfirmed):
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Nobody answered Sylvain's question with words. The pseudo-intimacy of Lucille's fingers around his neck tightened and then loosened, and the thought flew through Sylvain's head that she should be grateful that she was on his back, that he'd tied his bandanna over his collar, or else the camera at his throat would be able to see down her shirt.
She shifted, and maybe Sylvain shifted just enough with her to make a difference. He'd take credit for it, anyway, when she fell. The sudden lack of her weight pressing him down was the breath he was able to draw that much deeper, it was the way Sofia's aim wavered and her arm lowered just enough, and it was the the barrel of the gun pointing away from Sylvain's face and into the floor instead.
Well, Lucille's previous invitation still stood, didn't it?
Sylvain kicked back hard at Lucille where she had fallen and used the momentum to propel himself forward again, closing the distance to Sofia enough to seize her wrist and yank her down and squeeze hard and twist and not give himself enough time to think about the fact that he had to be hurting her. It kept her from being able to turn the gun back in his direction while he kept pushing and pulling, kept twisting her arm, how many times had she told him in that long-suffering, not-quite-joking tone that he was twisting her arm? He'd never done it literally before.
Sylvain was on his knees while Sofia stood, but his grip on her arm kept her from straightening up again fully. She was unstable. Something something crazy ex-girlfriend joke here, he was sure that Ritzy Daggers would have a quip for it in the morning-
He stopped that train of thoughts in its tracks by yanking Sofia's arm harder, making her grunt in pain. One of her hands wrenched away from the gun. He didn't have time or room to duck out of the way before her fist collided with his temple, snapping his head so the side and sending him sprawling backwards.
The gun came with him, though. Both of his hands on it versus Sofia's one. That was basic math.
On the floor again. On his back this time. He had the gun.
He had the gun. Head turned to the side. He could still feel the impression of each of Sofia's knuckles on the side of his skull.
Lucille was right there. He had the gun.
Sylvain turned onto his side, swinging the hand holding the gun around to join his other hand so he could grasp the gun properly with both, aimed at Lucille. His finger found the trigger.
He exhaled.
Edward Tracy grinning at the camera, his hands covered in Erin Crawford's blood and viscera. Kenny Yamana grinning at the camera, his bat covered in his friend's brain matter, crowing, Home run! Sylvain Kessler grinning at the camera, right before he fell off the table because his ex-girlfriend - his friend - startled him with a trumpet.
Another nervous giggle slipped past his lips.
"Don't move," Sylvain said, voice hoarse. "Don't move." He mouthed again, like a prayer, keeping the gun trained on Lucille as he sat up, and then slowly got to his feet.
"Stay there. Don't move." One step back away from them, then two.
He didn't have anything witty to say.
Bummer.
Sylvain took one more step back for good measure before turning and running off into the night.
((Sylvain Kessler continued in He Stands))
She shifted, and maybe Sylvain shifted just enough with her to make a difference. He'd take credit for it, anyway, when she fell. The sudden lack of her weight pressing him down was the breath he was able to draw that much deeper, it was the way Sofia's aim wavered and her arm lowered just enough, and it was the the barrel of the gun pointing away from Sylvain's face and into the floor instead.
Well, Lucille's previous invitation still stood, didn't it?
Sylvain kicked back hard at Lucille where she had fallen and used the momentum to propel himself forward again, closing the distance to Sofia enough to seize her wrist and yank her down and squeeze hard and twist and not give himself enough time to think about the fact that he had to be hurting her. It kept her from being able to turn the gun back in his direction while he kept pushing and pulling, kept twisting her arm, how many times had she told him in that long-suffering, not-quite-joking tone that he was twisting her arm? He'd never done it literally before.
Sylvain was on his knees while Sofia stood, but his grip on her arm kept her from straightening up again fully. She was unstable. Something something crazy ex-girlfriend joke here, he was sure that Ritzy Daggers would have a quip for it in the morning-
He stopped that train of thoughts in its tracks by yanking Sofia's arm harder, making her grunt in pain. One of her hands wrenched away from the gun. He didn't have time or room to duck out of the way before her fist collided with his temple, snapping his head so the side and sending him sprawling backwards.
The gun came with him, though. Both of his hands on it versus Sofia's one. That was basic math.
On the floor again. On his back this time. He had the gun.
He had the gun. Head turned to the side. He could still feel the impression of each of Sofia's knuckles on the side of his skull.
Lucille was right there. He had the gun.
Sylvain turned onto his side, swinging the hand holding the gun around to join his other hand so he could grasp the gun properly with both, aimed at Lucille. His finger found the trigger.
He exhaled.
Edward Tracy grinning at the camera, his hands covered in Erin Crawford's blood and viscera. Kenny Yamana grinning at the camera, his bat covered in his friend's brain matter, crowing, Home run! Sylvain Kessler grinning at the camera, right before he fell off the table because his ex-girlfriend - his friend - startled him with a trumpet.
Another nervous giggle slipped past his lips.
"Don't move," Sylvain said, voice hoarse. "Don't move." He mouthed again, like a prayer, keeping the gun trained on Lucille as he sat up, and then slowly got to his feet.
"Stay there. Don't move." One step back away from them, then two.
He didn't have anything witty to say.
Bummer.
Sylvain took one more step back for good measure before turning and running off into the night.
((Sylvain Kessler continued in He Stands))
Her eyes tracked the gun. The motion of the fingers on the gun. The tension on the trigger that when pulled would fire the gun that was pointed at her.
("-and after gaining the upper hand choked the girl to death. I don't know how many of you're aware, but that takes a really long time, pretty grim scene overall-")
("-Kuntz went down to Seo-yun Lee during a multi-party brawl, the victim of his own weapon. Use it or lose it—and that goes for life as well-")
("-was gunned down by Pia Malone while trying to beat a hasty escape. It doesn't really matter how fast you guys are—bullets are-")
("-which ended with someone's windpipe being crushed with a boot. I'll give you all a hint, the one with the killcount is the one-")
("-but I'm telling you, Luce', when the two of us get on TV we're both gonna have, like, five kills each, just on the opening day-!")
SB05 shuddered to life, hauling herself off the ground where she'd laid crumpled like a puppet that had lost its strings. She stumbled, one side, then the other, unable to decide which way to list, whether to follow the sway of the boat or not as she struggled for stability.
She lingered a moment longer before hauling ass, hauling her things, right after ES09.
(She didn't know what she was doing)
The chase would last mere seconds before she lost sight of him, and would be a show moment that garnered low viewership compared to the season average.
((SB05 continued in A voice comes out of Lucille's collar:))
("-and after gaining the upper hand choked the girl to death. I don't know how many of you're aware, but that takes a really long time, pretty grim scene overall-")
("-Kuntz went down to Seo-yun Lee during a multi-party brawl, the victim of his own weapon. Use it or lose it—and that goes for life as well-")
("-was gunned down by Pia Malone while trying to beat a hasty escape. It doesn't really matter how fast you guys are—bullets are-")
("-which ended with someone's windpipe being crushed with a boot. I'll give you all a hint, the one with the killcount is the one-")
("-but I'm telling you, Luce', when the two of us get on TV we're both gonna have, like, five kills each, just on the opening day-!")
SB05 shuddered to life, hauling herself off the ground where she'd laid crumpled like a puppet that had lost its strings. She stumbled, one side, then the other, unable to decide which way to list, whether to follow the sway of the boat or not as she struggled for stability.
She lingered a moment longer before hauling ass, hauling her things, right after ES09.
(She didn't know what she was doing)
The chase would last mere seconds before she lost sight of him, and would be a show moment that garnered low viewership compared to the season average.
((SB05 continued in A voice comes out of Lucille's collar:))
Upcoming:
Second Chances V3 (deconreconfirmed):
Relations Thread!
Olivia Fischer (original handler, Maraoone)
Memories: 1 Pregame: 1
Faith Marshal-Mackenzie (original handler, Frozen Smoke)
Memories: 1 Pregame: 1
Sayuna Lewis (original handler, Cicada)
Princess McQuillan (original handler, Cicada)
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Relations Thread!
Olivia Fischer (original handler, Maraoone)
Memories: 1 Pregame: 1
Faith Marshal-Mackenzie (original handler, Frozen Smoke)
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SansaSaver
- Posts: 197
- Joined: Wed Sep 05, 2018 9:15 pm
She faltered.
Lucille’s voice shook with an unfamiliar uncertainty, and Sofia barely had time to register the other girl’s grip slackening on Sylvain before he pounced on her. His hands wrapped around her wrist, and squeezed with a strength and fury she didn’t know he possessed. A scream tore through her throat, instinctive, rare, as Sylvain twisted her arm. She thought he would loosen his grip at her yelp of pain, even just a little, and yet he kept going, slender fingers burrowing into her skin as tears prickled at the corners of her eyes, blurring the scene before her.
She swung, wildly, desperately.
It connected.
Sylvain went spiraling away from her, but so did the gun. She didn’t even notice it’d fallen from her hands until Sylvain levelled it at the two of them. He murmured something. A threat, a command, she couldn’t tell and didn’t really care. And then he was gone.
Her hand was shaking as she touched her forearm, still tender and searing from Sylvain’s grip. She could see little grooves made by his nails, flaming red against her pale complexion.
The tendrils she’d left loose when she’d styled her hair draped across her face, and her breath shook with panic, frustration, and an odd sense of relief.
She was so close. Her finger was right there, wrapped around the trigger. She could’ve pulled it. She could’ve ended Sylvain’s life, could’ve taken out a very real threat.
People wouldn’t begrudge her killing Sylvain. She couldn’t think of anyone who’d be overwhelmed with thoughts of vengeance if her and his names were crackled over the announcements. But everyone who saw her as some shy, easy target would think twice knowing she had blood on her hands. And she would’ve proven something to Lucille, added a notch onto her resume that proved she was valuable to her beyond their matching bandannas.
But she couldn’t do it. She’d gotten so close to actually doing something, but couldn’t close the deal. And as the dust settled, fury and disappointment brimmed in the back of her throat.
She turned to say something to her partner, but in a flash, Lucille was gone too. In pursuit, or maybe just anger, and she was alone again. She thought about following, but faltered there too. Maybe it was better to be by herself, just for a moment.
Sylvain’s car engine lay abandoned to the side. She’d not thought much of it at first; it was bulky and unwieldy and the last thing she’d choose if she had options. But it was better than nothing. And with no allies and no real weapon, she’d take what she could get.
She slipped on her heels, and added the new addition to her bag.
With a wavering sigh, she glanced at her reflection in the murky glass below. She curled a few loose strands of hair around her finger, and thought about pulling, hard, and the burn she would be able to relish in the aftermath.
She didn’t know how long she stood staring at the girl looking back at her, taking in every inch of her face, the camel colour of her coat and the sage of her eyes, until she let those hairs unravel from her finger and float back to join the others. She left a small smile quirk at the corners of her lips.
She’d find something better to quell her stress than that.
She wouldn’t falter again.
Heaven help Sylvain the next time she saw him.
((Sofia Kowalski continued in SSSS (Sofia's Seaweed Salad Surprise)))
Lucille’s voice shook with an unfamiliar uncertainty, and Sofia barely had time to register the other girl’s grip slackening on Sylvain before he pounced on her. His hands wrapped around her wrist, and squeezed with a strength and fury she didn’t know he possessed. A scream tore through her throat, instinctive, rare, as Sylvain twisted her arm. She thought he would loosen his grip at her yelp of pain, even just a little, and yet he kept going, slender fingers burrowing into her skin as tears prickled at the corners of her eyes, blurring the scene before her.
She swung, wildly, desperately.
It connected.
Sylvain went spiraling away from her, but so did the gun. She didn’t even notice it’d fallen from her hands until Sylvain levelled it at the two of them. He murmured something. A threat, a command, she couldn’t tell and didn’t really care. And then he was gone.
Her hand was shaking as she touched her forearm, still tender and searing from Sylvain’s grip. She could see little grooves made by his nails, flaming red against her pale complexion.
The tendrils she’d left loose when she’d styled her hair draped across her face, and her breath shook with panic, frustration, and an odd sense of relief.
She was so close. Her finger was right there, wrapped around the trigger. She could’ve pulled it. She could’ve ended Sylvain’s life, could’ve taken out a very real threat.
People wouldn’t begrudge her killing Sylvain. She couldn’t think of anyone who’d be overwhelmed with thoughts of vengeance if her and his names were crackled over the announcements. But everyone who saw her as some shy, easy target would think twice knowing she had blood on her hands. And she would’ve proven something to Lucille, added a notch onto her resume that proved she was valuable to her beyond their matching bandannas.
But she couldn’t do it. She’d gotten so close to actually doing something, but couldn’t close the deal. And as the dust settled, fury and disappointment brimmed in the back of her throat.
She turned to say something to her partner, but in a flash, Lucille was gone too. In pursuit, or maybe just anger, and she was alone again. She thought about following, but faltered there too. Maybe it was better to be by herself, just for a moment.
Sylvain’s car engine lay abandoned to the side. She’d not thought much of it at first; it was bulky and unwieldy and the last thing she’d choose if she had options. But it was better than nothing. And with no allies and no real weapon, she’d take what she could get.
She slipped on her heels, and added the new addition to her bag.
With a wavering sigh, she glanced at her reflection in the murky glass below. She curled a few loose strands of hair around her finger, and thought about pulling, hard, and the burn she would be able to relish in the aftermath.
She didn’t know how long she stood staring at the girl looking back at her, taking in every inch of her face, the camel colour of her coat and the sage of her eyes, until she let those hairs unravel from her finger and float back to join the others. She left a small smile quirk at the corners of her lips.
She’d find something better to quell her stress than that.
She wouldn’t falter again.
Heaven help Sylvain the next time she saw him.
((Sofia Kowalski continued in SSSS (Sofia's Seaweed Salad Surprise)))