Zorin backed up in shock as Eteinne shot up. When he gave him a lil wave, Zorin cocked his head.
Knew it. He thought.
He knew there was someone in there.
With the second voice revealing themselves from within, Zorin piped in.
“You guys friendly?”
“Can we come in?”
Was this Fergie douchemuffin illiterate or something?
[OPEN]
Moderator: SOTF: Cyber Staff
Catche thinks my squirrel is Fisk so here's my daily reminder that he is not.
Nate looked a little hoodwinked. Etienne giggled internally, a little out of nervousness but mostly from the failure his distraction had been. No, Nate, the distraction was meant to give you the upper hand not dismantle your predatory form.
Either way, it turned out to have settled down in the long run. It was Zorin at the door, and somebody a few paces behind that wasn't visible yet. Zorin was a cool guy, well, in Etienne's mind at all. "Cool" and "Zorin" probably not two terms that ran synonymously very regularly. Etienne smirked over at him, raising both his hands to the ceiling and mockingly shaking his hands to show he was unarmed. White flag... and all that.
His smirk subsided as he signalled his hands back in Zorin's direction, "When have I not been friendly, Zorin?"
He crunched his loosely-fitted glasses back up against his nose as he continued, the tone in his voice notably sharper. "How about you?"
Etienne's eyes flickered down to the instrument their assailant had been clutching hold of, before squinting back at Zorin. "Pretty big toy you got there. I really hope you're not planning on using it..."
His only concern was that Zorin had a habit of being a little spontaneous, and whilst on the outside world Etienne had been conditioned to it, this didn't feel like the right time to embrace spontaneity.
"Not on us, at least," Etienne's haphazard smile re-emerged, accompanied by a crude wink.
"Who's that with you? I didn't know you had so many friends..."
Either way, it turned out to have settled down in the long run. It was Zorin at the door, and somebody a few paces behind that wasn't visible yet. Zorin was a cool guy, well, in Etienne's mind at all. "Cool" and "Zorin" probably not two terms that ran synonymously very regularly. Etienne smirked over at him, raising both his hands to the ceiling and mockingly shaking his hands to show he was unarmed. White flag... and all that.
His smirk subsided as he signalled his hands back in Zorin's direction, "When have I not been friendly, Zorin?"
He crunched his loosely-fitted glasses back up against his nose as he continued, the tone in his voice notably sharper. "How about you?"
Etienne's eyes flickered down to the instrument their assailant had been clutching hold of, before squinting back at Zorin. "Pretty big toy you got there. I really hope you're not planning on using it..."
His only concern was that Zorin had a habit of being a little spontaneous, and whilst on the outside world Etienne had been conditioned to it, this didn't feel like the right time to embrace spontaneity.
"Not on us, at least," Etienne's haphazard smile re-emerged, accompanied by a crude wink.
"Who's that with you? I didn't know you had so many friends..."
"I'm Cee." The -Ee was drawn out, to sound a little less like just a letter; he was used to people askin "but what's your ACTUAL name?" And he'd say "it's Cee, C-E-E," like some sort of cartoon character. Sometimes, he'd say it's for Cecil.
He raised his hand, a half-wave back. Not too intimate, but casual.
(And I'm not a *Friend* of his exactly, his own mind supplied.)
(Like, to be fair, friend in this case feels like its being used very patronizingly, but still. Semantics. Friend, as far as Cee is concerned, needed a particular kind of push-and-pull. The kind where you kept in contact and made active effort to *keep* in contact with, not just spontanious meetings and goodbyes just as fast, with strangers you meet at a party and the sort.)
"I'm not armed, by the way."
He raised his hand, a half-wave back. Not too intimate, but casual.
(And I'm not a *Friend* of his exactly, his own mind supplied.)
(Like, to be fair, friend in this case feels like its being used very patronizingly, but still. Semantics. Friend, as far as Cee is concerned, needed a particular kind of push-and-pull. The kind where you kept in contact and made active effort to *keep* in contact with, not just spontanious meetings and goodbyes just as fast, with strangers you meet at a party and the sort.)
"I'm not armed, by the way."
-
ciphermitarai
- Posts: 98
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Awkwardly, Nate pulled himself back from the brink of violence, putting away the gun with surprisingly accurate safety precautions. To him (because everything did, more or less) the “I’m not armed” felt like an accusation, but even as he complied with the invented complaint adrenaline kept his blood jumping from head to heart. Still, he kept it close, held within his pocket as he very gingerly raised his head, too tunnel-focused to really notice Etienne’s mirth. God, he never took anything seriously enough.
Well, until he saw him joking around with the guy with the AK. His eyes somehow bugged even further out of his head, practically so that they touched his lenses. “Jesus!” he hissed, unable to help himself, and ran a hand up through his hair as though he might go on and yank it out.
… Was he supposed to speak now?
“… Nate. Um, Nate Larson, I guess,” he said, failing even to provide the context that he was stating his own name. He failed to provide anything understandable at all, what with his voice being somewhere between groggy and trembling, difficult as that may be to achieve.
“D—don’t shoot us,” he added, admittedly pathetically. His eyes rested just below Zorin’s, unable to really meet them. Guilt? Fear? After all that internal psyching-up…
Well, until he saw him joking around with the guy with the AK. His eyes somehow bugged even further out of his head, practically so that they touched his lenses. “Jesus!” he hissed, unable to help himself, and ran a hand up through his hair as though he might go on and yank it out.
… Was he supposed to speak now?
“… Nate. Um, Nate Larson, I guess,” he said, failing even to provide the context that he was stating his own name. He failed to provide anything understandable at all, what with his voice being somewhere between groggy and trembling, difficult as that may be to achieve.
“D—don’t shoot us,” he added, admittedly pathetically. His eyes rested just below Zorin’s, unable to really meet them. Guilt? Fear? After all that internal psyching-up…
Well, that explained the warm welcome. These guys were scared off their shit. "Hey, hey chill. I'm not going to shoot any of you."
Zorin made his way into the room, making sure to keep his rifle pointed at the floor. "It's just me and C. We're trying to find a way out of this mess, but first we're figuring out who's cool and who's not."
Zorin glanced out behind the door to make sure they weren't followed.
"I can guess there's at least two who aren't." Zorin realized the implication of what he said wouldn't go well seconds after speaking-
"Not you guys! No, no, we encountered some shit on the way here. There were gunshots at the bridges, and when we met up on the rooftops, some mall ninja tried to jump Amy, but they got away. I don't know who they were, but I could point them out again if I saw them. I don't know who was shooting at the bridges but you probably heard it."
Zorin shook his head.
"I don't like how fast people are drinking this kool aid, which is why I want to find a way out of here before one of us gets hurt."
Zorin made his way into the room, making sure to keep his rifle pointed at the floor. "It's just me and C. We're trying to find a way out of this mess, but first we're figuring out who's cool and who's not."
Zorin glanced out behind the door to make sure they weren't followed.
"I can guess there's at least two who aren't." Zorin realized the implication of what he said wouldn't go well seconds after speaking-
"Not you guys! No, no, we encountered some shit on the way here. There were gunshots at the bridges, and when we met up on the rooftops, some mall ninja tried to jump Amy, but they got away. I don't know who they were, but I could point them out again if I saw them. I don't know who was shooting at the bridges but you probably heard it."
Zorin shook his head.
"I don't like how fast people are drinking this kool aid, which is why I want to find a way out of here before one of us gets hurt."
Catche thinks my squirrel is Fisk so here's my daily reminder that he is not.
Sarcasm was in some ways his best friend, quick wit his cloak of fortitude as he ventured out to the big scary world. His shit didn't stink, and that had always helped him manoeuvre through the surrounding chaos and uncertainty.
Yet he couldn't help but get annoyed by Nate immediately giving the game away. Don't say boo to a goose. Don't shoot at us. Same thing, really. It sure as hell wasn't the time to start opening a hypothetical Pandora's box by reminding the assailant, however well-intentioned, that doing just that and spraying the room with bullets was actually a viable option here. A sigh of silence followed as Etienne anxiously rubbed the back of his head, stroking the well-formed hair of his Avatar. Cee was the one visible behind Zorin, quickly declaring themself as unarmed.
The tight corners of his lips loosened into a smirk. No use crying over spilled milk, hey?
Etienne's smirk widened at Zorin's approach. The slip of words from his tongue, forming the fractured shell of an inappropriate joke. He didn't think they were cool? Etienne couldn't help but feel hurt by the accidental attempt at banter. Sure - he was with Nate who, by no stretch, was somebody Etienne would deem "cool". But come on, Etienne had hoped he had a little bit more street cred than that.
No need to lie. Etienne was the coolest cucumber in their class.
But there wasn't time for lies. It didn't take long for Zorin to backtrack. Maybe it wasn't just Nate that was a little bit nervous here... Zorin seemed to think people were actually playing this game. That it was actually for real and not just some set up prank to scare them. Senior pranks had really gotten out of hand lately as it was, this felt no different.
"People are drinking the kool aid already are they?" Etienne couldn't help but hide the slightly menacing tone he carried in his response, like a pantomime villain playing along with the big gag.
Within seconds of speaking, time and space as he knew it felt sliced by the slick knife of the hijacker's voice. Videos popping up across his interface like an electric vehicle being hacked and driven off a bridge in the movies. Etienne's hands clung to each side of his scalp as his eyes squinted and his smirk evaporated. The voice that spoke to them, a despairingly sinister voice that he could tell immediately meant bad news, was like a dodgy boombox pounding through his skull, a thumping migraine that wouldn't go away.
Etienne fell to his knee's as reality set in, laid out bare for all of them to see. The news footage, the cacophony of voices, the exasperation in their voices.
This...
It...
All of this was real?
He had never assumed that Avatar's could feel emotion in such a rollercoaster way, but the churn of his guts and flames of the bile reflux were enough to want him to rip out his innards. If he didn't feel sick to the pit of his stomach beforehand, the next video in the montage to appear was that of Solana's fate. Solana wasn't a girl he was particularly close to, yet she had always been a beacon of positivity and friendliness whenever they did encounter one another. Watching Daniel, whose toxic masculinity Etienne had actively spent time avoiding in the hallways of Sycamore High, bludgeon her to death with his fists was something else. A dry retch was all he could muster as the cold stroke of reality hit home.
The video had stopped playing just long enough to be met by an awkward silence, palpable tension in the air was simply sky high. Daniel hadn't just been drinking a glass of Kool-Aid, he'd been downing the whole damn tub. Etienne's hands remained wrapped around his head like an uncomfortable parody of Edvard Munch's "Scream".
For perhaps the very first time in his life, the perennial wordsmith that was Etienne Molyneux had been left entirely speechless.
Yet he couldn't help but get annoyed by Nate immediately giving the game away. Don't say boo to a goose. Don't shoot at us. Same thing, really. It sure as hell wasn't the time to start opening a hypothetical Pandora's box by reminding the assailant, however well-intentioned, that doing just that and spraying the room with bullets was actually a viable option here. A sigh of silence followed as Etienne anxiously rubbed the back of his head, stroking the well-formed hair of his Avatar. Cee was the one visible behind Zorin, quickly declaring themself as unarmed.
The tight corners of his lips loosened into a smirk. No use crying over spilled milk, hey?
Etienne's smirk widened at Zorin's approach. The slip of words from his tongue, forming the fractured shell of an inappropriate joke. He didn't think they were cool? Etienne couldn't help but feel hurt by the accidental attempt at banter. Sure - he was with Nate who, by no stretch, was somebody Etienne would deem "cool". But come on, Etienne had hoped he had a little bit more street cred than that.
No need to lie. Etienne was the coolest cucumber in their class.
But there wasn't time for lies. It didn't take long for Zorin to backtrack. Maybe it wasn't just Nate that was a little bit nervous here... Zorin seemed to think people were actually playing this game. That it was actually for real and not just some set up prank to scare them. Senior pranks had really gotten out of hand lately as it was, this felt no different.
"People are drinking the kool aid already are they?" Etienne couldn't help but hide the slightly menacing tone he carried in his response, like a pantomime villain playing along with the big gag.
Within seconds of speaking, time and space as he knew it felt sliced by the slick knife of the hijacker's voice. Videos popping up across his interface like an electric vehicle being hacked and driven off a bridge in the movies. Etienne's hands clung to each side of his scalp as his eyes squinted and his smirk evaporated. The voice that spoke to them, a despairingly sinister voice that he could tell immediately meant bad news, was like a dodgy boombox pounding through his skull, a thumping migraine that wouldn't go away.
Etienne fell to his knee's as reality set in, laid out bare for all of them to see. The news footage, the cacophony of voices, the exasperation in their voices.
This...
It...
All of this was real?
He had never assumed that Avatar's could feel emotion in such a rollercoaster way, but the churn of his guts and flames of the bile reflux were enough to want him to rip out his innards. If he didn't feel sick to the pit of his stomach beforehand, the next video in the montage to appear was that of Solana's fate. Solana wasn't a girl he was particularly close to, yet she had always been a beacon of positivity and friendliness whenever they did encounter one another. Watching Daniel, whose toxic masculinity Etienne had actively spent time avoiding in the hallways of Sycamore High, bludgeon her to death with his fists was something else. A dry retch was all he could muster as the cold stroke of reality hit home.
The video had stopped playing just long enough to be met by an awkward silence, palpable tension in the air was simply sky high. Daniel hadn't just been drinking a glass of Kool-Aid, he'd been downing the whole damn tub. Etienne's hands remained wrapped around his head like an uncomfortable parody of Edvard Munch's "Scream".
For perhaps the very first time in his life, the perennial wordsmith that was Etienne Molyneux had been left entirely speechless.
-
ciphermitarai
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Nate scrambled to pull off his glasses but the nightmare was inescapably embedded, charged with all of the yells he’d held until now—yells that mounted into screams. Staggering back. Palm hitting a desk or a wall or something he didn’t really register or know—could’ve been Solana’s corpse, he’d never have felt it—breaking his fall, keeping him suspended in half motion, crying out as if to deafen, to wipe away—
And then it was gone.
For Nate, it was never the violence. Blood didn’t frighten him unless it was before him. A thousand memories crawled against his eyes; nine, ten, eleven and seeing things no one should ever see through a cracked screen, a futile attempt at proving toughness, trying to match every pixel, every frame, he’s been there before he’s seen it before…
It wasn’t real—not in the sense that it hadn’t happened but to Nate it was immaterial. He had never known Daniel or Solana beyond their names. He never would. Loss is a collaborative art and Nate had always been his own island. Or perhaps that was the kindness of the out-of-body; lifted beyond what he knew, Nate could pretend like he could die and it would be nothing. The private soliloquy was nothing when the horror brought him to retching; it was nothing about Daniel or Solana that frightened him there except that the reality was that he might join the latter.
And why? He didn’t have any particular zest for life. But the pinpricks of sharp light beneath his virtual skin and teeth and eyes rendered him once again animalistic, bubbling under an even thinner veneer, trembling, still not quite processing what he had seen.
“H… holy fucking shit,” his voice trembled out at a whisper once everything died down; counting on the horror of the others he choked out a “D—Daniel, yeah?”, not even quite sure what it was that he meant to say.
He’d thought to himself he’d become desensitized to internet violence but Solana’s corpse burned into his skull.
Backing away step by step once he regained his footing. Wobbly, unsteady, prepared to flee.
And then it was gone.
For Nate, it was never the violence. Blood didn’t frighten him unless it was before him. A thousand memories crawled against his eyes; nine, ten, eleven and seeing things no one should ever see through a cracked screen, a futile attempt at proving toughness, trying to match every pixel, every frame, he’s been there before he’s seen it before…
It wasn’t real—not in the sense that it hadn’t happened but to Nate it was immaterial. He had never known Daniel or Solana beyond their names. He never would. Loss is a collaborative art and Nate had always been his own island. Or perhaps that was the kindness of the out-of-body; lifted beyond what he knew, Nate could pretend like he could die and it would be nothing. The private soliloquy was nothing when the horror brought him to retching; it was nothing about Daniel or Solana that frightened him there except that the reality was that he might join the latter.
And why? He didn’t have any particular zest for life. But the pinpricks of sharp light beneath his virtual skin and teeth and eyes rendered him once again animalistic, bubbling under an even thinner veneer, trembling, still not quite processing what he had seen.
“H… holy fucking shit,” his voice trembled out at a whisper once everything died down; counting on the horror of the others he choked out a “D—Daniel, yeah?”, not even quite sure what it was that he meant to say.
He’d thought to himself he’d become desensitized to internet violence but Solana’s corpse burned into his skull.
Backing away step by step once he regained his footing. Wobbly, unsteady, prepared to flee.
"...
Holy fuck.
OK. Um."
He couldn't find what to feel. It was strange. What was he supposed to think about this? What chemicals are meant to be pumping through his head? How should he mourn? How should he grieve?
He didn't.
That"s alright.
Holy fuck.
OK. Um."
He couldn't find what to feel. It was strange. What was he supposed to think about this? What chemicals are meant to be pumping through his head? How should he mourn? How should he grieve?
He didn't.
That"s alright.
Zorin’s shoulders were shaking. He glanced over at one of the classroom windows. He grit his teeth and raised his buttstock to knock it out-
Wait.
That might set his gun off. That might hurt someone else.
He took a deep breath, and lowered his AK.
“FUCK!”
A fist punched through the window.
It pulled back, droplets of red sliding down his wrist from the glass imbedded in his knuckles…
Turns out, that wasn’t much smarter either, Zorin thought to himself, grimacing, as he pulled a shard out.
Wait.
That might set his gun off. That might hurt someone else.
He took a deep breath, and lowered his AK.
“FUCK!”
A fist punched through the window.
It pulled back, droplets of red sliding down his wrist from the glass imbedded in his knuckles…
Turns out, that wasn’t much smarter either, Zorin thought to himself, grimacing, as he pulled a shard out.
Catche thinks my squirrel is Fisk so here's my daily reminder that he is not.
Gravity felt heavier than usual, pushing down on Etienne's shoulders like death in disguise.
It was forceful by nature, bathed in unrelenting intent. As he found his feet one stumble towards the far wall at a time, his stomach groaned. A churn akin to plumetting from the top of a rollercoaster. The gravity of the situation had silenced him, silenced them all. The reticent tranquillity broken only by Zorin exclaiming a loud cuss and the senseless smash of a window. The glass from the window sliced inward, littering the room with just short of a million diamonds. The diamonds being coated in a steady drip of blood from Zorin's hand.
Unsurprisingly, his hand was pretty cut up.
Etienne wanted to help but the thought of walking halfway across the small room was enough to make him dizzy.
"Y-you okay?" was about all he could muster in response.
The sweat on his brow stung his face, a burning itch under his skin that he had never encountered before. All of the emotions were overwhelming, the feelings, the nascent reality he found himself in. He had always hated the idea of artificial intelligence, society weakly succumbing to the alleged utopia that technological advances brought. The unprecedented reliance on computers to drive what Americans had become too lazy to administer themselves, each scathing remark just another brick in the wall he wanted to build to isolate himself from this rubbish. The lines between humanity and cyber reality felt blurred, like he almost didn't know who he was anymore. Cognisant emotion he had never felt before whilst playing around inside his Avatar.
"There's no way that was real," Etienne promptly debated, finally attending to that itch as he swept his hair from his face once more.
"It... can't be."
It was forceful by nature, bathed in unrelenting intent. As he found his feet one stumble towards the far wall at a time, his stomach groaned. A churn akin to plumetting from the top of a rollercoaster. The gravity of the situation had silenced him, silenced them all. The reticent tranquillity broken only by Zorin exclaiming a loud cuss and the senseless smash of a window. The glass from the window sliced inward, littering the room with just short of a million diamonds. The diamonds being coated in a steady drip of blood from Zorin's hand.
Unsurprisingly, his hand was pretty cut up.
Etienne wanted to help but the thought of walking halfway across the small room was enough to make him dizzy.
"Y-you okay?" was about all he could muster in response.
The sweat on his brow stung his face, a burning itch under his skin that he had never encountered before. All of the emotions were overwhelming, the feelings, the nascent reality he found himself in. He had always hated the idea of artificial intelligence, society weakly succumbing to the alleged utopia that technological advances brought. The unprecedented reliance on computers to drive what Americans had become too lazy to administer themselves, each scathing remark just another brick in the wall he wanted to build to isolate himself from this rubbish. The lines between humanity and cyber reality felt blurred, like he almost didn't know who he was anymore. Cognisant emotion he had never felt before whilst playing around inside his Avatar.
"There's no way that was real," Etienne promptly debated, finally attending to that itch as he swept his hair from his face once more.
"It... can't be."
-
ciphermitarai
- Posts: 98
- Joined: Tue Jun 02, 2020 12:06 am
- Location: lost in junpei's forehead
- Team Affiliation: Claudia's Krakens
- Contact:
The sudden shatter of glass was enough to send Nate, convinced that at any moment he was to die, scrambling for the door. Even despite the free ability to witness what had happened, absolute nausea and fear overtook him to the point that he found no option in himself but to flee.
For Etienne, maybe, it wasn’t real. But for Nate, it sure as hell was.
Nate Larson continued… somewhere.
For Etienne, maybe, it wasn’t real. But for Nate, it sure as hell was.
Nate Larson continued… somewhere.
"I'm okay. I'll live." Zorin had winced again, pulling out another shard. Beyond the announcements, something else had confirmed itself to Zorin. He knew how sensations worked in altered reality. Pleasurable things stayed the same, they should be after all? How else would you keep people terminally online, to escape from the real world. With pain, it was different. It was always toned down. A dull shock, like playing with a joy buzzer, or even just a vibration that told you, you were hit. With fighting or with VR laser tag. It didn't hurt.
This did. Every shard, every cut, the way his skin parted around his knuckles as he opened and closed his hand. The sensation of nerves going haywire after getting mashed against an inanimate object. This was as real as real got. They wanted it to hurt. They wanted you to feel it when you died, no, when you died twice. Would he know it when his brain overloaded? Maybe there'd be time to yank the helmet off before he got cooked.
But if that was an option, wouldn't somebody have done it, already?
"This is real. This was what I wanted to avoid, I thought-"
"Our class isn't too bright. Quite frankly I don't trust them to wear any form of shoes besides velcro light up Sketchers they're so fucking dumb, but I never saw it in them to actually play into this shit. But then I saw people try; and now we all saw the result of that."
"But, I trust you guys. You're good. C is good, Nate is-"
Nate was gone.
Zorin pinched his brow.
"Damnit. Look. If we work together, we can fix this shit, we can find a way out. I'm a fucking genius okay? I leaked military documents on the war thunder forums and didn't get caught, I can find a way out; but I need time, I need a way to access the outside world, and the only way I can get time is if we work together."
Zorin grabbed his AK.
"We gotta look for people, we all got to get together in one place. We all have to *refuse* this shitshow, and shut it down here and now. We can beat these two-bit script kiddies."
Zorin walked to the doorway. "I'm gonna go look for people, they're gonna need our help. I need you guys to keep your heads low, if you find someone you can trust, bring them in. We'll get through this. Nobody else has to die."
((Zorin Boddicker continued elsewhere...))
This did. Every shard, every cut, the way his skin parted around his knuckles as he opened and closed his hand. The sensation of nerves going haywire after getting mashed against an inanimate object. This was as real as real got. They wanted it to hurt. They wanted you to feel it when you died, no, when you died twice. Would he know it when his brain overloaded? Maybe there'd be time to yank the helmet off before he got cooked.
But if that was an option, wouldn't somebody have done it, already?
"This is real. This was what I wanted to avoid, I thought-"
"Our class isn't too bright. Quite frankly I don't trust them to wear any form of shoes besides velcro light up Sketchers they're so fucking dumb, but I never saw it in them to actually play into this shit. But then I saw people try; and now we all saw the result of that."
"But, I trust you guys. You're good. C is good, Nate is-"
Nate was gone.
Zorin pinched his brow.
"Damnit. Look. If we work together, we can fix this shit, we can find a way out. I'm a fucking genius okay? I leaked military documents on the war thunder forums and didn't get caught, I can find a way out; but I need time, I need a way to access the outside world, and the only way I can get time is if we work together."
Zorin grabbed his AK.
"We gotta look for people, we all got to get together in one place. We all have to *refuse* this shitshow, and shut it down here and now. We can beat these two-bit script kiddies."
Zorin walked to the doorway. "I'm gonna go look for people, they're gonna need our help. I need you guys to keep your heads low, if you find someone you can trust, bring them in. We'll get through this. Nobody else has to die."
((Zorin Boddicker continued elsewhere...))
Catche thinks my squirrel is Fisk so here's my daily reminder that he is not.
It wasn't real anyways
-> Cee leaves the scene
-> Cee leaves the scene
The final images of Solana scarred his vision, an improbable cinema that rendered even his wildest nightmares as child's play.
More than anything else, Etienne just felt dizzy. Perhaps it was the shock, but his vision was left blurry, his ears ringing. His senses were lost, a strangely dehumanizing experience. He stroked his hands up and down his face, gently slapping his cheeks in a desperate effort to wake him up.
Before he could even see straight, Nate had bolted. Followed by Zorin, followed thereafter by C.
And for the first time since the very start of this fantasy, Etienne was all alone. It wasn't until then that he had realised just how big the classroom was. It was isolating in many ways, grounding in others.
Etienne pressed his glasses up against the peak of his nose perplexingly, as he calculated his next steps.
[A32: Etienne Molyneux - continued in Time to overthrow the Galactic Empire]
More than anything else, Etienne just felt dizzy. Perhaps it was the shock, but his vision was left blurry, his ears ringing. His senses were lost, a strangely dehumanizing experience. He stroked his hands up and down his face, gently slapping his cheeks in a desperate effort to wake him up.
Before he could even see straight, Nate had bolted. Followed by Zorin, followed thereafter by C.
And for the first time since the very start of this fantasy, Etienne was all alone. It wasn't until then that he had realised just how big the classroom was. It was isolating in many ways, grounding in others.
Etienne pressed his glasses up against the peak of his nose perplexingly, as he calculated his next steps.
[A32: Etienne Molyneux - continued in Time to overthrow the Galactic Empire]