What a morbid yet beautiful thing it is, to have one's body be a home and feast for the animals below.
It's just a shame that Abel died for nothing at the young age of eighteen. And there's such a tragedy in a life not even lived to adulthood, really, in a world where humans have worked so hard to extend their own lifespans. Life is such a sacred thing, but apparently it was worth less than a paycheck. Her own life, too, not just Abel's. Her's, and Mary's, and probably also Jewel's too, just that she was worth a lot more.
Leah was so tired, in so many different meanings of the word, and nothing would fix it until this entire unfair bullshit system burnt down to the ground. She wanted to dismantle the world, to rebuild it, to make it into something that is worthy of love, but she was so little, so powerless, just another defective screw in the meat grinder.
"Is there any food or some kind of... quality of life stuff? Caffeinated drinks, toilet paper, that kind of stuff, I mean..."
She frowned.
Mary's joke was meant to lighten the mood, but all it did was poke at her own, pitiful appearance, and now she was sort of horrifyingly aware of her own objectification and commodification.
The thoughts won't stop.
Leah accepted the bottle with a bit of hesitance, nose clearing a bit at the artificial fruity alcohol smell.
"Should we stay here or go somewhere else?"
All Cats Are Grey
Mary frowned with Leah.
Sometimes she said stuff, and people gave her weird looks for it. It wasn’t like she insulted Leah’s looks or anything? All she said was that she’d prefer to look and feel clean, and overall in good shape? Where was the harm in that? Or, did she think she was being vain? Because she was focusing on her looks? Was it just the way she talked? Maybe she wasn’t the best at executing jokes. Maybe it was how she performed them, not what she said.
You’re overthinking again.
Try to stay on track.
“I’ve been meaning to go back to the cruise ship. There’s, uh, business I need to attend to there. Someone I need to see.”
Mary adjusted herself for a moment. She looked away, towards the ocean.
“Do you know Leo? He’s there, and… I wasn’t able to properly take care of him. I flipped, and... he’s probably still there. I’ve been meaning to go back for a while now. We traveled together for a while, you know?”
She pulled her gaze away, instead looking downwards onto the floor. Mary couldn’t help but notice that there were bloodstains on the floor. She lifted her eyes.
“Uh, toilet paper, caffeine, hygiene, clean clothes, food, probably water-- not the water outside, but like, those bottles or cans of fresh water, of course…”
She used her fingers to count out what they needed to grab.
“Is that it for our stop here?”
Sometimes she said stuff, and people gave her weird looks for it. It wasn’t like she insulted Leah’s looks or anything? All she said was that she’d prefer to look and feel clean, and overall in good shape? Where was the harm in that? Or, did she think she was being vain? Because she was focusing on her looks? Was it just the way she talked? Maybe she wasn’t the best at executing jokes. Maybe it was how she performed them, not what she said.
You’re overthinking again.
Try to stay on track.
“I’ve been meaning to go back to the cruise ship. There’s, uh, business I need to attend to there. Someone I need to see.”
Mary adjusted herself for a moment. She looked away, towards the ocean.
“Do you know Leo? He’s there, and… I wasn’t able to properly take care of him. I flipped, and... he’s probably still there. I’ve been meaning to go back for a while now. We traveled together for a while, you know?”
She pulled her gaze away, instead looking downwards onto the floor. Mary couldn’t help but notice that there were bloodstains on the floor. She lifted her eyes.
“Uh, toilet paper, caffeine, hygiene, clean clothes, food, probably water-- not the water outside, but like, those bottles or cans of fresh water, of course…”
She used her fingers to count out what they needed to grab.
“Is that it for our stop here?”
CYBERS:
HARERAISER (Winter Castillo)The synthwave bunnygirl programmer roller weeb!
Currently: Confused? Horrified?
SECOND CHANCES
Junko KurosawaThink Johnny Knoxville but a teenage girl.
Currently: Ridng a shopping cart (in-between threads)
Bella Bianchi
Ballet dancer with pressure.
Currently: In the student lounge
(Meanwhile in the past...)
"Leo, oh, um... Yeah, we can go back there. See how he's doing."
She cracked her knuckles. One, two, three, crunch. The noise was half-loud.
"That's probably it, I guess. Maybe looking for something nice to sleep in, if everywhere else is taken or dangerzoned. Pillows take up too much space- blankets, maybe? Something that can replace blankets. Don't want the weather to get to us before somebody else does."
A bit odd to look for simple accommodations and luxuries in this kind of situation, probably. Leah always felt guilty for wanting too much from the people around her, not that it's a prominent feeling for the last couple of years, because there aren't that many people to ask from anyways. Now that she's here, it was a little bit difficult not to feel silly for wanting something like a blanket. Or a comb. She ran her fingers through her hair and they pulled at the tangles and the knots.
"Do combs and lotions and stuff count under hygiene? Just... just because, well, my hands are getting kind of dry. Hair's all..."
Actually, should she cut it? Somebody can grab her hair in a fight. And that would be one of the millions of ways to go down. She held the offending lump of keratin in her hands.
"Hair's all messed up. It's not a big deal or anything. Just distracting. Maybe... maybe it's a bit better for me to cut it, I think, but I'm not really sure about that."
She probably looked very, um, vain and shallow and all. Talking about a haircut. It's a little dumb to be hesitant, since cutting it would probably help a lot, but it's just... it's just really, well, she's grown attached to it over the years? She hasn't cut her hair in a long time. It's one of the only parts of herself that she liked. That she was proud of. Which was dumb, it was half genetics and half overpriced floral scented stuff from mom, but still...
Leah couldn't help but look at the bloodstains on the floor, either. For just a second. And then she looked away. She wondered if the blood was just Abel's, or if it belonged to someone else. She wondered if she was looking at a little piece of another waterlogged corpse. That was a little uncomfortable.
She cracked her knuckles. One, two, three, crunch. The noise was half-loud.
"That's probably it, I guess. Maybe looking for something nice to sleep in, if everywhere else is taken or dangerzoned. Pillows take up too much space- blankets, maybe? Something that can replace blankets. Don't want the weather to get to us before somebody else does."
A bit odd to look for simple accommodations and luxuries in this kind of situation, probably. Leah always felt guilty for wanting too much from the people around her, not that it's a prominent feeling for the last couple of years, because there aren't that many people to ask from anyways. Now that she's here, it was a little bit difficult not to feel silly for wanting something like a blanket. Or a comb. She ran her fingers through her hair and they pulled at the tangles and the knots.
"Do combs and lotions and stuff count under hygiene? Just... just because, well, my hands are getting kind of dry. Hair's all..."
Actually, should she cut it? Somebody can grab her hair in a fight. And that would be one of the millions of ways to go down. She held the offending lump of keratin in her hands.
"Hair's all messed up. It's not a big deal or anything. Just distracting. Maybe... maybe it's a bit better for me to cut it, I think, but I'm not really sure about that."
She probably looked very, um, vain and shallow and all. Talking about a haircut. It's a little dumb to be hesitant, since cutting it would probably help a lot, but it's just... it's just really, well, she's grown attached to it over the years? She hasn't cut her hair in a long time. It's one of the only parts of herself that she liked. That she was proud of. Which was dumb, it was half genetics and half overpriced floral scented stuff from mom, but still...
Leah couldn't help but look at the bloodstains on the floor, either. For just a second. And then she looked away. She wondered if the blood was just Abel's, or if it belonged to someone else. She wondered if she was looking at a little piece of another waterlogged corpse. That was a little uncomfortable.
“Eh, you might look good with a cute lil’ bob, maybe? I think you have the face shape to maybe pull something off if you want.”
With Mary, cutting her own hair was a hit-or-miss. Getting more ‘hit’ than ‘miss’ nowadays, though. Of course, getting your hair dyed meant you had to be careful how you treated it in general. She’d touched up at home, just minor sprucing, and she managed fine. But you had to be careful about swimming and washing, to make sure things don’t fade much earlier than they're supposed to. But yeah, Leah had the face shape, she could do something fun with short hair.
She leaned forwards a bit.
“Yeah, though. Combs make sense, and count as hygiene. And lotion, maybe see what’s available? If we can’t find anything here… I think it’s a good bet that there’d be, like, those tiny guest shampoos and stuff. Not perfect, obvs, but it’s better than nothing, right?”
With Mary, cutting her own hair was a hit-or-miss. Getting more ‘hit’ than ‘miss’ nowadays, though. Of course, getting your hair dyed meant you had to be careful how you treated it in general. She’d touched up at home, just minor sprucing, and she managed fine. But you had to be careful about swimming and washing, to make sure things don’t fade much earlier than they're supposed to. But yeah, Leah had the face shape, she could do something fun with short hair.
She leaned forwards a bit.
“Yeah, though. Combs make sense, and count as hygiene. And lotion, maybe see what’s available? If we can’t find anything here… I think it’s a good bet that there’d be, like, those tiny guest shampoos and stuff. Not perfect, obvs, but it’s better than nothing, right?”
CYBERS:
HARERAISER (Winter Castillo)The synthwave bunnygirl programmer roller weeb!
Currently: Confused? Horrified?
SECOND CHANCES
Junko KurosawaThink Johnny Knoxville but a teenage girl.
Currently: Ridng a shopping cart (in-between threads)
Bella Bianchi
Ballet dancer with pressure.
Currently: In the student lounge
(Meanwhile in the past...)
Does it?
Leah twirled her hair around her finger absentmindedly. When Mary leaned towards her, she didn't lean back. That kind of surprised her, but not really.
"Guest shampoos aren't that bad, I think. We'll still be doing better than the unshowered guys walking around, probably."
Like, uh, Junji, but she didn't have the rudeness or energy or humor to spin that into a verbal jab at him. Well, she found it funny herself, to the point where she failed to bite down something resembling a grin at the thought of... just, like, how gross the entire island must be by now, and how they probably had it good compared to the seasons set in more remote places without showers or, god forbid, toilets, and it was kind of weird how she'd seen so many weird, gross, sexual stuff posted about not only teenagers, but teenagers who hadn't showered in half a week and smelled like blood and sweat and probably rotting meat and a lot of other bad smells. Which shouldn't be funny to her, but it was, and she couldn't really help but giggle at how so many people who survived probably had, like, head lice or something. But that train of thought was hard to articulate into something that others would articulate, and she'd hate for Mary to look at her weird for making fun of someone who tried to kill them less than a day ago and she'd hate for her to not find it funny even more. And the world would see how bad Leah was at making jokes.
She covered her widening grin with a something that looked like a brochure. There was an overpriced photo album here, a bibliography there- maybe she could read them when she had the free time.
There was another copy of Ten Kills, One Life. On the ground. Slightly dirtied. It looked like somebody put it through a clothes dryer.
Leah picked it up, thumb rubbing over the rough hardcover. It was 15.99$. She wondered who set the price. Was Jewel's life story worth that little?
"Here," she muttered with her lips no longer behind the little brochure, handing it towards Mary's direction. There was this feeling of trust between them that she hadn't felt in so, so long. It felt good. It felt really, really good. It felt like it would be taken away from her at any moment, now.
"You want something to read?"
Leah twirled her hair around her finger absentmindedly. When Mary leaned towards her, she didn't lean back. That kind of surprised her, but not really.
"Guest shampoos aren't that bad, I think. We'll still be doing better than the unshowered guys walking around, probably."
Like, uh, Junji, but she didn't have the rudeness or energy or humor to spin that into a verbal jab at him. Well, she found it funny herself, to the point where she failed to bite down something resembling a grin at the thought of... just, like, how gross the entire island must be by now, and how they probably had it good compared to the seasons set in more remote places without showers or, god forbid, toilets, and it was kind of weird how she'd seen so many weird, gross, sexual stuff posted about not only teenagers, but teenagers who hadn't showered in half a week and smelled like blood and sweat and probably rotting meat and a lot of other bad smells. Which shouldn't be funny to her, but it was, and she couldn't really help but giggle at how so many people who survived probably had, like, head lice or something. But that train of thought was hard to articulate into something that others would articulate, and she'd hate for Mary to look at her weird for making fun of someone who tried to kill them less than a day ago and she'd hate for her to not find it funny even more. And the world would see how bad Leah was at making jokes.
She covered her widening grin with a something that looked like a brochure. There was an overpriced photo album here, a bibliography there- maybe she could read them when she had the free time.
There was another copy of Ten Kills, One Life. On the ground. Slightly dirtied. It looked like somebody put it through a clothes dryer.
Leah picked it up, thumb rubbing over the rough hardcover. It was 15.99$. She wondered who set the price. Was Jewel's life story worth that little?
"Here," she muttered with her lips no longer behind the little brochure, handing it towards Mary's direction. There was this feeling of trust between them that she hadn't felt in so, so long. It felt good. It felt really, really good. It felt like it would be taken away from her at any moment, now.
"You want something to read?"
Mary took the book with both hands. Examined the cover.
“Have you read this before?” she asked.
She’d heard of Ten Kills One Life Before. It may be something useful. Get insight into what their mentor felt and thought. Mary hadn’t picked it up beforehand, since she was never big on the SOTF scene.
Maybe if she knew ahead of time, she would have. Not only knew that she’d be here, but who her mentor would be. She knew only the snippets from people talking, like how Jewel talked about disembowelment fetishism and the various reasoning for her kills. It was funny, Jewel seemed to care about them to some extent, or at least claimed she did. And yet, she killed all those people. People were complex. Mary knew that there was some trickiness to her, as a person, as well. Sometimes she said one thing, and did another. Mary herself didn’t always understand why. Therapy helped to unravel a bit, to put a little more into context, but sometimes, she had to stop and think. It felt like others could be the same, too.
“Have you read this before?” she asked.
She’d heard of Ten Kills One Life Before. It may be something useful. Get insight into what their mentor felt and thought. Mary hadn’t picked it up beforehand, since she was never big on the SOTF scene.
Maybe if she knew ahead of time, she would have. Not only knew that she’d be here, but who her mentor would be. She knew only the snippets from people talking, like how Jewel talked about disembowelment fetishism and the various reasoning for her kills. It was funny, Jewel seemed to care about them to some extent, or at least claimed she did. And yet, she killed all those people. People were complex. Mary knew that there was some trickiness to her, as a person, as well. Sometimes she said one thing, and did another. Mary herself didn’t always understand why. Therapy helped to unravel a bit, to put a little more into context, but sometimes, she had to stop and think. It felt like others could be the same, too.
CYBERS:
HARERAISER (Winter Castillo)The synthwave bunnygirl programmer roller weeb!
Currently: Confused? Horrified?
SECOND CHANCES
Junko KurosawaThink Johnny Knoxville but a teenage girl.
Currently: Ridng a shopping cart (in-between threads)
Bella Bianchi
Ballet dancer with pressure.
Currently: In the student lounge
(Meanwhile in the past...)
'Yeah. It's, um, it was a weapon. For another girl. But then she dropped it to steal my stuff and I read it because there wasn't really... anything to do here besides surviving and killing and I just thought that if I read it, I'd... learn from it?''
Leah was glad that Olivia took her weapon, in a way. Because if she had the method and the resources, she could've done worse things than she thought she could. It's always a little easier to kill from afar, or that's what she's heard, anyways. But now Leah had a book, and she had a friend.
She fished out from her backpack the glossy covered book. Held it out, nice and visible for the cameras to see.
''If you want to read it, you can have mine, actually. Jewel's not half bad of a writer. But it's still... difficult for me to digest, in a way? But I think it helped. I think she helped.
Jewel? If you're listening, uh, I'm glad you wrote this.
But I'm going to go over this with a red pen if I get back.''
Leah was glad that Olivia took her weapon, in a way. Because if she had the method and the resources, she could've done worse things than she thought she could. It's always a little easier to kill from afar, or that's what she's heard, anyways. But now Leah had a book, and she had a friend.
She fished out from her backpack the glossy covered book. Held it out, nice and visible for the cameras to see.
''If you want to read it, you can have mine, actually. Jewel's not half bad of a writer. But it's still... difficult for me to digest, in a way? But I think it helped. I think she helped.
Jewel? If you're listening, uh, I'm glad you wrote this.
But I'm going to go over this with a red pen if I get back.''
-
MurderWeasel
- Posts: 3450
- Joined: Mon Aug 06, 2018 9:56 am
- Team Affiliation: Jewel's Leviathans
A second or two later, there's a response, the voice warmer than usual.
"If we get the opportunity, I can't think of many things I'd rather do than sit down and talk about it with you."
"If we get the opportunity, I can't think of many things I'd rather do than sit down and talk about it with you."
-
Applesintime
- Posts: 836
- Joined: Sat Jul 04, 2020 11:57 am
- Team Affiliation: Ben's Crabs
((Anthony Golden continued from The Physical Impossibility of Death in the Mind of Someone Living))
It had been a while since he had left the sarcophagus that was the cruise ship. No matter how he tried to ignore it, Nadine's words, what she had said, still weighed heavily on him. He was the hero, though. But now he was out, away from all of that, away from the stifling air and the stifling pressure and the stifling… everything, really. The sun beat down on him, a reminder that he was outside, that he was still alive. He was also thankful for his hat, his plentiful supply of water, and his trusty rifle. Good sightlines were all he needed, and he could drop a player before they could turn to murder him. Be the hero.
It was nice to be outside. Sure, maybe most players, they would be inside the cruise ship. Hunting the innocent, getting into fights with each other, all that stupid shit. But there’d maybe be a few players outside, too. People who had the same idea as him; there might be people lurking on the outskirts of where they could go. And so his travels had taken him here. The shop boat. Just a day ago, Pippi Bloodworth had received justice for murdering Mateo here. His first dead player. Four had followed her as of yet, and Anthony was determined to make that a fifth.
He could see two people through the windows; it had been hard to make them out at first, but as he got closer, he was able to make out the distinctive hair of Mary Cheung. She hadn’t done anything. Yet. Britnee had no kills under her belt, and yet she had tried to murder him. So had Luanne. Elliot-Blair had no kills, but he was perfectly happy with collaborating with a murderer. Kills didn’t mean shit; they were only an obvious tell.
And then Anthony saw Leah through the window, and he let out a sigh. Figures. Just fucking great. It was going to hurt a lot, whatever he was going to end up doing. Whether it was killing her for murdering Rebecca Roberts on the spot, letting her explain her side of the story, whatever, he couldn’t hesitate to do what he thought was right.
By the time he was standing in the entrance of the shop boat, staring awkwardly at the two, he still didn’t know what was right.
“Hey.”
It had been a while since he had left the sarcophagus that was the cruise ship. No matter how he tried to ignore it, Nadine's words, what she had said, still weighed heavily on him. He was the hero, though. But now he was out, away from all of that, away from the stifling air and the stifling pressure and the stifling… everything, really. The sun beat down on him, a reminder that he was outside, that he was still alive. He was also thankful for his hat, his plentiful supply of water, and his trusty rifle. Good sightlines were all he needed, and he could drop a player before they could turn to murder him. Be the hero.
It was nice to be outside. Sure, maybe most players, they would be inside the cruise ship. Hunting the innocent, getting into fights with each other, all that stupid shit. But there’d maybe be a few players outside, too. People who had the same idea as him; there might be people lurking on the outskirts of where they could go. And so his travels had taken him here. The shop boat. Just a day ago, Pippi Bloodworth had received justice for murdering Mateo here. His first dead player. Four had followed her as of yet, and Anthony was determined to make that a fifth.
He could see two people through the windows; it had been hard to make them out at first, but as he got closer, he was able to make out the distinctive hair of Mary Cheung. She hadn’t done anything. Yet. Britnee had no kills under her belt, and yet she had tried to murder him. So had Luanne. Elliot-Blair had no kills, but he was perfectly happy with collaborating with a murderer. Kills didn’t mean shit; they were only an obvious tell.
And then Anthony saw Leah through the window, and he let out a sigh. Figures. Just fucking great. It was going to hurt a lot, whatever he was going to end up doing. Whether it was killing her for murdering Rebecca Roberts on the spot, letting her explain her side of the story, whatever, he couldn’t hesitate to do what he thought was right.
By the time he was standing in the entrance of the shop boat, staring awkwardly at the two, he still didn’t know what was right.
“Hey.”
Jewel’s response brought a warm feeling in her heart- it felt like a praise from a parental figure she never had. It felt like a confession. It felt like love. It felt like her entire being was going to explode. It felt so real and so fake and she wanted desperately to hope that Jewel wasn’t just lying to motivate her, but she sounded so full of life like she never had before.
And then Anthony came.
And the euphoria all crashed down.
“...Mary. We should, um. We should go.”
She looked at Anthony, and then at the girl besides her, and then at Anthony again.
Then, in a voice slightly lower, but still audible-
“Anthony’s killed four people. I think. Um. How do we… How do we deal with players? Oh god.”
She’s dealt with one before, maybe, if Junji counted, but he was simple, really, in the way where children with violence shoved down their throats for breakfast were. Media corporations took him when he was just a little baby and they molded his pliable bones into the shape of what he was today. Anthony was different, or at least she thought he was. But she thought that she was different, too, and look at Rebecca. Did Anthony cry like she did, or did he just get on with it? Did he clean the bodies up? Maybe she was a bit silly for trying to get rid of the corpses, because, well, it’s not like the producers won’t just dump them all in a crematorium like putting plastic bags in the garbage disposal, anyways.
Four victims. Four lives for one. She wanted to pick his brain apart with sharp tools and chemical vapors, to look inside Anthony’s very cells to figure out what made him do that. She thought he hated violence.
Maybe he still did. Leah was a murderer, too, and she didn’t want to see blood ever again.
She held up a trembling arm, pointed at the door.
“Drop your weapons.”
Deep breathes, in and out and in and out.
“We’re not here to fight if you aren’t, too.”
And then Anthony came.
And the euphoria all crashed down.
“...Mary. We should, um. We should go.”
She looked at Anthony, and then at the girl besides her, and then at Anthony again.
Then, in a voice slightly lower, but still audible-
“Anthony’s killed four people. I think. Um. How do we… How do we deal with players? Oh god.”
She’s dealt with one before, maybe, if Junji counted, but he was simple, really, in the way where children with violence shoved down their throats for breakfast were. Media corporations took him when he was just a little baby and they molded his pliable bones into the shape of what he was today. Anthony was different, or at least she thought he was. But she thought that she was different, too, and look at Rebecca. Did Anthony cry like she did, or did he just get on with it? Did he clean the bodies up? Maybe she was a bit silly for trying to get rid of the corpses, because, well, it’s not like the producers won’t just dump them all in a crematorium like putting plastic bags in the garbage disposal, anyways.
Four victims. Four lives for one. She wanted to pick his brain apart with sharp tools and chemical vapors, to look inside Anthony’s very cells to figure out what made him do that. She thought he hated violence.
Maybe he still did. Leah was a murderer, too, and she didn’t want to see blood ever again.
She held up a trembling arm, pointed at the door.
“Drop your weapons.”
Deep breathes, in and out and in and out.
“We’re not here to fight if you aren’t, too.”
She smiled a bit, at the chiming in of Jewel and of Leah's thoughts on the book. Mary took note to read it front to cover, give her little book report. It might help her here, since y'know, taking it from the expert.
Before she could continued the convo further... someone else was here. Mary set the book aside and reached for the oar. She stood up.
...
Oh.
Anthony being a player was funny. Again, not in that ‘ha-ha’ way, but in that weird way. Didn’t he hate SOTF? Like, the sort of person who’d go to protests and everything? Mary hadn’t been big on SOTF before this. She’d watched a few clips here and there, wasn’t her thing, the fanbase was weird. The people at her church didn’t like it, either, so she wasn’t even really allowed to watch it growing up? Anthony, though, was one of those people. You’d think that he’d be against the idea of killing on the show. Apparently, you’d be mistaken.
She clutched the oar close.
She’d dealt with Seo-yun, didn’t she? And RJ, she guessed, and Junji, and Rebecca, and Akeno. Technically Leah, too, even if they were allies and she knew what went down. By the sound of things, Anthony was, er, dedicated.
“I don’t think there’s any practical reason for us to fight. We’re just here to grab some stuff, and we’ll be on our way,” she added.
Would that work? There were probably one or two, but Anthony, as far as she knew, was outnumbered.
Before she could continued the convo further... someone else was here. Mary set the book aside and reached for the oar. She stood up.
...
Oh.
Anthony being a player was funny. Again, not in that ‘ha-ha’ way, but in that weird way. Didn’t he hate SOTF? Like, the sort of person who’d go to protests and everything? Mary hadn’t been big on SOTF before this. She’d watched a few clips here and there, wasn’t her thing, the fanbase was weird. The people at her church didn’t like it, either, so she wasn’t even really allowed to watch it growing up? Anthony, though, was one of those people. You’d think that he’d be against the idea of killing on the show. Apparently, you’d be mistaken.
She clutched the oar close.
She’d dealt with Seo-yun, didn’t she? And RJ, she guessed, and Junji, and Rebecca, and Akeno. Technically Leah, too, even if they were allies and she knew what went down. By the sound of things, Anthony was, er, dedicated.
“I don’t think there’s any practical reason for us to fight. We’re just here to grab some stuff, and we’ll be on our way,” she added.
Would that work? There were probably one or two, but Anthony, as far as she knew, was outnumbered.
CYBERS:
HARERAISER (Winter Castillo)The synthwave bunnygirl programmer roller weeb!
Currently: Confused? Horrified?
SECOND CHANCES
Junko KurosawaThink Johnny Knoxville but a teenage girl.
Currently: Ridng a shopping cart (in-between threads)
Bella Bianchi
Ballet dancer with pressure.
Currently: In the student lounge
(Meanwhile in the past...)
-
Applesintime
- Posts: 836
- Joined: Sat Jul 04, 2020 11:57 am
- Team Affiliation: Ben's Crabs
Drop your weapons, Leah said. It was almost funny, but it wasn’t funny, because Anthony had a rifle, and they had an oar. If he wanted to kill them, they’d both be dead in the blink of an eye, assuming the fucking thing didn’t jam. But Anthony wasn’t a player, so he wasn’t going to do that. Still, he wasn’t going to let his guard down. Leah looked vaguely worried - OK, Leah always looked vaguely worried to be honest - and Mary also looked sort of worried, which was understandable. He had five kills under his belt - well, four, to the best of their knowledge. And the acid scars, and the general dishevelled look… he did sort of look like a villain. Fortunately for them, he wasn’t.
“I’m no player. The only people who are my enemies are those who play and murder themselves. So I don’t think we’ll have a problem.” Anthony shrugged. He didn’t know if they would have a problem, but Leah and Mary not trying to murder him on sight bore good tidings. Of course, Britnee and Diana hadn’t murdered him on sight, and they ended up being players anyway, but if he could get some time to talk with Leah and confirm what had happened with Rebecca Roberts, he’d make his choice.
“Mind if I come in?” Not waiting for a reply, he stepped into the boat, over shattered glass and scattered merchandise. Abel’s body seemed to be gone. What did they do with it? He opened his mouth to speak, but then shrugged, deciding against it. Maybe they didn’t know either. Maybe they did know. Did it matter? There was only one thing that did, and that was Leah’s judgement.
“I’m no player. The only people who are my enemies are those who play and murder themselves. So I don’t think we’ll have a problem.” Anthony shrugged. He didn’t know if they would have a problem, but Leah and Mary not trying to murder him on sight bore good tidings. Of course, Britnee and Diana hadn’t murdered him on sight, and they ended up being players anyway, but if he could get some time to talk with Leah and confirm what had happened with Rebecca Roberts, he’d make his choice.
“Mind if I come in?” Not waiting for a reply, he stepped into the boat, over shattered glass and scattered merchandise. Abel’s body seemed to be gone. What did they do with it? He opened his mouth to speak, but then shrugged, deciding against it. Maybe they didn’t know either. Maybe they did know. Did it matter? There was only one thing that did, and that was Leah’s judgement.
''Jewel, I think he wouldn't want to hear you here.''
“Didn’t hear any Brittney on the announcement before you came un, no offense.”
Bullshit. Bullshit. Once was an accident. Twice can be a coincidence. Four kills was just malice.
“You murdered Pippi. I met her, you know. I saw her hit Mateo. By mistake. She was freaked out and she just saw a girl get set on fire and she was nice to me and to Luanne and you murdered her. I’m sorry. I’m sorry that I can’t afford to trust you right now, and I’m sorry that you can’t come in.”
She kept her eyes on him. It wasn’t a threatening kind of stare, just a sad one, with tears brimming right at the edge. She didn’t want to look him in the eye. She didn’t want him to be here. She didn’t want to be a part of this big, interconnected world she was born into.
“Just- just like what Mary said. We’ll just grab some stuff and go, and you can have this place after that. I don’t want to clean up another corpse. I’m sorry. I can’t let you in here, and if you force yourself into here then that just proves you’re lying. I don’t want to see any blood anymore. I don’t- I don’t want you to put me down, and I don’t want to put you down, and I don’t, I don’t, I’m sorry, I can’t, I can’t, I-”
In and out and in and out.
“How did you even live with yourself?”
“Didn’t hear any Brittney on the announcement before you came un, no offense.”
Bullshit. Bullshit. Once was an accident. Twice can be a coincidence. Four kills was just malice.
“You murdered Pippi. I met her, you know. I saw her hit Mateo. By mistake. She was freaked out and she just saw a girl get set on fire and she was nice to me and to Luanne and you murdered her. I’m sorry. I’m sorry that I can’t afford to trust you right now, and I’m sorry that you can’t come in.”
She kept her eyes on him. It wasn’t a threatening kind of stare, just a sad one, with tears brimming right at the edge. She didn’t want to look him in the eye. She didn’t want him to be here. She didn’t want to be a part of this big, interconnected world she was born into.
“Just- just like what Mary said. We’ll just grab some stuff and go, and you can have this place after that. I don’t want to clean up another corpse. I’m sorry. I can’t let you in here, and if you force yourself into here then that just proves you’re lying. I don’t want to see any blood anymore. I don’t- I don’t want you to put me down, and I don’t want to put you down, and I don’t, I don’t, I’m sorry, I can’t, I can’t, I-”
In and out and in and out.
“How did you even live with yourself?”
Uh, what. Was he seriously trying to argue that he was only killing murderers? Like, sure, killing in self-defense wasn’t exactly evil, at least compared to, say, killing in cold blood. But then he went and killed Pippi, who seemed to be harmless? Brittnee, too. So, what exactly was he talking about? Especially since once or twice, you could understand, but three times? Four times? Was he just that unlucky he needed to defend himself that often?
…
Oh, ew. She just realized another possibility. Mary silently prayed it wasn’t the case. Playing was bad enough.
“We won’t be here much longer, anyway, and neither of us is interested in anything going down. I think it’s fair for us to keep our distance. So, no, sorry, you can’t,” she said, with venom in her voice.
Mary looked to her side. Leah was babbling and breaking down, and it looked like she was about to break into tears any second. It didn’t help that Anthony looked terrible. It looked like he’d received some battle scars of his own.
If Anthony came any closer, well, Leah had a point. Coming closer meant that he wanted to start something, especially after both she and Leah made it clear he wasn’t welcome.
…
Oh, ew. She just realized another possibility. Mary silently prayed it wasn’t the case. Playing was bad enough.
“We won’t be here much longer, anyway, and neither of us is interested in anything going down. I think it’s fair for us to keep our distance. So, no, sorry, you can’t,” she said, with venom in her voice.
Mary looked to her side. Leah was babbling and breaking down, and it looked like she was about to break into tears any second. It didn’t help that Anthony looked terrible. It looked like he’d received some battle scars of his own.
If Anthony came any closer, well, Leah had a point. Coming closer meant that he wanted to start something, especially after both she and Leah made it clear he wasn’t welcome.
CYBERS:
HARERAISER (Winter Castillo)The synthwave bunnygirl programmer roller weeb!
Currently: Confused? Horrified?
SECOND CHANCES
Junko KurosawaThink Johnny Knoxville but a teenage girl.
Currently: Ridng a shopping cart (in-between threads)
Bella Bianchi
Ballet dancer with pressure.
Currently: In the student lounge
(Meanwhile in the past...)
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Applesintime
- Posts: 836
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Anthony sighed. For God’s sake. How many times was he going to have to explain this? That he didn’t just wake up one day and decide that he was going to go around murdering random people? That this was what was right. This was what was righteous. This was what he was doing, not playing. He was hunting the players and delivering justice. Genesis 9:6. Whoever sheds the blood of man, by man shall his blood be shed, for God made man in his own image. Anthony would shed player blood.
“Beau asked me to kill him. Pippi was a player. She confessed that to Luanne Grasset. That she murdered him in cold blood, and she got what she deserved for it, right here. Nothing else matters but the results.” The rifle gestured at the blood stains that once were inside Pineapple “Pippi” Bloodworth, before he took a wooden board to her head. “RJ shot me with this rifle himself. The only reason I’m alive is he’s a shitty shot.” Anthony took a step forwards, his brow furrowing. They didn’t get it, did they? Just because people were killed, just because Anthony had to hunt players, he was equivalent to them? “And Britnee fucking gave me this. Sulfuric acid. To the face. She got what she intended to give.” Anthony pointed at his face. He didn’t feel the need to tell them about his latest kill.
“I have a question I want to ask first, Leah. Rebecca Roberts. Why?” The rifle raised towards her. “Why murder her? I want an explanation. Not an excuse. Why?” He didn’t want to do this. But he had come so far. She didn’t look OK. She looked frightened. Frightened of justice, or frightened that he would murder her in cold blood? He took a step closer.
“How do I live with myself?” The question took him by surprise, to be honest. But it was a simple one. “Because if I do not kill players, they will kill and kill and kill for their own selfish purposes, to build their Character. And they will kill innocents. Someone must take the sword and hunt them down themselves, Leah. To ensure that murderers will never murder another person, to ensure that the innocent here would be safe. It is my burden to bear. But I am right. I am moral. And that is how I live with myself; I haven’t done anything wrong.”
“Why?” He couldn’t afford to be under-cautious. Did she want to know because she wanted to play more, wanted to learn how to stop feeling guilty about murder? It didn’t matter. All he waited for was her answer.
“Beau asked me to kill him. Pippi was a player. She confessed that to Luanne Grasset. That she murdered him in cold blood, and she got what she deserved for it, right here. Nothing else matters but the results.” The rifle gestured at the blood stains that once were inside Pineapple “Pippi” Bloodworth, before he took a wooden board to her head. “RJ shot me with this rifle himself. The only reason I’m alive is he’s a shitty shot.” Anthony took a step forwards, his brow furrowing. They didn’t get it, did they? Just because people were killed, just because Anthony had to hunt players, he was equivalent to them? “And Britnee fucking gave me this. Sulfuric acid. To the face. She got what she intended to give.” Anthony pointed at his face. He didn’t feel the need to tell them about his latest kill.
“I have a question I want to ask first, Leah. Rebecca Roberts. Why?” The rifle raised towards her. “Why murder her? I want an explanation. Not an excuse. Why?” He didn’t want to do this. But he had come so far. She didn’t look OK. She looked frightened. Frightened of justice, or frightened that he would murder her in cold blood? He took a step closer.
“How do I live with myself?” The question took him by surprise, to be honest. But it was a simple one. “Because if I do not kill players, they will kill and kill and kill for their own selfish purposes, to build their Character. And they will kill innocents. Someone must take the sword and hunt them down themselves, Leah. To ensure that murderers will never murder another person, to ensure that the innocent here would be safe. It is my burden to bear. But I am right. I am moral. And that is how I live with myself; I haven’t done anything wrong.”
“Why?” He couldn’t afford to be under-cautious. Did she want to know because she wanted to play more, wanted to learn how to stop feeling guilty about murder? It didn’t matter. All he waited for was her answer.