The worst thing about this game – about being dangerously close to giving a shit – was conflict. Plans versus instinct, rationality against emotion. Conversely, the best thing was that if tackled carefully in the rare moments of calm and quiet, you could be as prepared as possible when the game got the better of the other participants, friend and foe alike. Such as brief walks across a cabana that gave just enough time for Regina to accept that she did not need Tucker’s help – she was choosing to accept it, meaning that by the time they reached the door she was not nearly as tightly wound as she had been since waking, no, since they had left the Sunshine Tower.
Instead of lamenting her weakness, Regina was summoning strength to be able to hold herself steady – to defend herself if things went awry as soon as they opened that door. Instead of grimacing as she reached forward to open the door in answer to Tucker’s question, she shot her teammate a smile. It was reassurance that a leg injury would not hold her back, especially not in a game where every second mattered.
That smile held even as Regina moved outside and saw the smoke rising. “Well, that helps,” she announced, voice low as she came to a decision, gritting her teeth against the pain as she moved as quickly through the snow, and towards the smoke as her injury – and Tucker - allowed. As they moved, she leaned in a little closer to him, sighing softly. “If you want to go ahead and scout, we’ll be right behind you.”
Bella had killed with Yagmur, but she had not passed him in the hallway countless times, laughed with him, and certainly had never gotten hideously drunk with him on the weekends. Just because Regina concealed all but what she wanted everyone around her and back home to see did not mean that she was not empathetic when it served... and also when she could not help it.
“And don’t be a hero,” Regina added quietly, a reminder to herself as much as a warning to him.
Picking Up The Pieces
[Closed]
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(Paisley Hopkins continued from "I will open my mouth in parables.")
As she stared at the ravenous fire in the distance, her back pressed against a wall, glass shard at the ready, Paisley thought of fire.
As she crept along the side of the furthest cabana, Paisley kept a close eye at the figures in the distance. The cabana she slept in with Pia was on fire and it sent a shiver of dread coursing through her entire body. The flames illuminated everything nearby but she could only see shadows in place of people. One was against. Two. None of them were people Paisley knew.
The whole island was burning, she realized. It was burning and the killers lit the match. Paisley was a killer, too, but she would not inhale the fumes. Not without a fight. She flipped her bandanna.
"Eli," she pressed a finger to her collar, her voice high enough to overtake the sounds of fire but no higher than a whisper. "It's Paisley. I'm still alive. I have a plan. I'm going to find the rest of my teammates. I don't know if I'm the only one left, but I'll try my hardest."
She did not tell Eli about Tucker. They called the man 'mentor' but she barely knew the man. The only person Paisley could trust now was her brother. Tucker was all that mattered. And as far as she could gather from the inky shadows in the distance, they could not be trusted. She slid off the wall and around the back, making sure to sneak around.
"Listen, I'm at the Cabanas right now. The one I was staying in a day ago is. burning down. I can see two, three people, but I can't make them out. I think they set the fire."
Three people. Matt was dead. Caroline was dead. Paisley made three. She did not know how large each of the teams were. She assumed four, maybe five, even six. The only thing she knew for sure? They were hostile. The fire told her that much. They were killers.
Just one. One, for bloodletting's sake. Drain all of the toxin, all of the sugar, so that there will be no more left when the time came. Then Paisley would search for Tucker and send him home.
That was her plan. Tucker was her plan.
There was something she wanted to ask Eli. Something important. A thought occurred to her, then, and she brushed the thoughts aside.
...Five seconds, she decided.
She would give Corin and Vahka five seconds. Sarah, too, even though she was not a friend. Sarah tried to warn Paisley. Paisley should have listened. Pia was different. With her, decision making wasn't her forte. She knew this. So Paisley would give her ten instead of five. She was her friend, after all. Marcus though... Paisley wasn't sure what she would do. Kiss him, probably, just for the hell of it. He was going to die anyway so it did not matter.
Those were the only exceptions though. Everyone else was fair game.
She knew this, all of this, was easier said than done. The words 'like' or 'approve' no longer mattered to her, though. Strength over desire; time to grow up. It was all about survival. All about Tucker and Ivy and her parents and the taste of skittles and Slim Jims.
If these assholes wanted blood, Paisley would give it to them.
She stayed in the shadows.
As she stared at the ravenous fire in the distance, her back pressed against a wall, glass shard at the ready, Paisley thought of fire.
As she crept along the side of the furthest cabana, Paisley kept a close eye at the figures in the distance. The cabana she slept in with Pia was on fire and it sent a shiver of dread coursing through her entire body. The flames illuminated everything nearby but she could only see shadows in place of people. One was against. Two. None of them were people Paisley knew.
The whole island was burning, she realized. It was burning and the killers lit the match. Paisley was a killer, too, but she would not inhale the fumes. Not without a fight. She flipped her bandanna.
"Eli," she pressed a finger to her collar, her voice high enough to overtake the sounds of fire but no higher than a whisper. "It's Paisley. I'm still alive. I have a plan. I'm going to find the rest of my teammates. I don't know if I'm the only one left, but I'll try my hardest."
She did not tell Eli about Tucker. They called the man 'mentor' but she barely knew the man. The only person Paisley could trust now was her brother. Tucker was all that mattered. And as far as she could gather from the inky shadows in the distance, they could not be trusted. She slid off the wall and around the back, making sure to sneak around.
"Listen, I'm at the Cabanas right now. The one I was staying in a day ago is. burning down. I can see two, three people, but I can't make them out. I think they set the fire."
Three people. Matt was dead. Caroline was dead. Paisley made three. She did not know how large each of the teams were. She assumed four, maybe five, even six. The only thing she knew for sure? They were hostile. The fire told her that much. They were killers.
Just one. One, for bloodletting's sake. Drain all of the toxin, all of the sugar, so that there will be no more left when the time came. Then Paisley would search for Tucker and send him home.
That was her plan. Tucker was her plan.
There was something she wanted to ask Eli. Something important. A thought occurred to her, then, and she brushed the thoughts aside.
...Five seconds, she decided.
She would give Corin and Vahka five seconds. Sarah, too, even though she was not a friend. Sarah tried to warn Paisley. Paisley should have listened. Pia was different. With her, decision making wasn't her forte. She knew this. So Paisley would give her ten instead of five. She was her friend, after all. Marcus though... Paisley wasn't sure what she would do. Kiss him, probably, just for the hell of it. He was going to die anyway so it did not matter.
Those were the only exceptions though. Everyone else was fair game.
She knew this, all of this, was easier said than done. The words 'like' or 'approve' no longer mattered to her, though. Strength over desire; time to grow up. It was all about survival. All about Tucker and Ivy and her parents and the taste of skittles and Slim Jims.
If these assholes wanted blood, Paisley would give it to them.
She stayed in the shadows.
It was the three of them, then. Bella nodded at Tucker as he held Regina’s arm, helping her move.
As soon as they opened the door, Bella was hit with the smell of smoke. She wasn’t sure where it was coming from, but she knew one thing: it wasn’t good. A few steps outside, and that’s when Bella saw it. Definitely smoke.
Bella squinted her eyes. After a few seconds she realized where it was coming from. One of the cabanas. And it most likely wasn’t someone smoking a cigarette. Too big for that. In fact, just in the doorway she could see some bright orange peeking out.
The other cabana was some ways away, but Bella couldn’t help but suppress a cough at what smoke floated by them. However, the grip on the pogo stick tightened.
What if he was in there? What if a killer was nearby, trying to burn people out of that specific cabana? If they were, they were probably nearby and looking for more people. Bella gulped, the taste of smoke entering her mouth.
She stepped forward, not really thinking. It probably wasn’t a good idea to approach it, but she had to take a closer look. She had to. Yagmur could be in there, or there could be someone hiding about. She wasn’t sure what she would do if he was stuck in there or if a killer was nearby, but she had to do something. Anything.
As soon as they opened the door, Bella was hit with the smell of smoke. She wasn’t sure where it was coming from, but she knew one thing: it wasn’t good. A few steps outside, and that’s when Bella saw it. Definitely smoke.
Bella squinted her eyes. After a few seconds she realized where it was coming from. One of the cabanas. And it most likely wasn’t someone smoking a cigarette. Too big for that. In fact, just in the doorway she could see some bright orange peeking out.
The other cabana was some ways away, but Bella couldn’t help but suppress a cough at what smoke floated by them. However, the grip on the pogo stick tightened.
What if he was in there? What if a killer was nearby, trying to burn people out of that specific cabana? If they were, they were probably nearby and looking for more people. Bella gulped, the taste of smoke entering her mouth.
She stepped forward, not really thinking. It probably wasn’t a good idea to approach it, but she had to take a closer look. She had to. Yagmur could be in there, or there could be someone hiding about. She wasn’t sure what she would do if he was stuck in there or if a killer was nearby, but she had to do something. Anything.
Oh great, a fire.
Tucker was somewhat surprised by the smoke rising in the sky, but whatever the hell it was he didn't want to go near it. But chances are Yagmur's inside, or whatever those crashes were was related to the fire. Nonetheless he still didn't want to go near it, but Bella and Regina did. The latter half-dragged him towards it, and he only cooperated because Regina couldn't move otherwise.
The fire was within their sights when Regina suggested that he scout. He felt bad about leaving Regina, but she implied that she'd be fine alone, didn't she? Tucker waited a few seconds before nodding in reply, letting her go and stepping forward, catching up to Bella. He wasn't sure if anyone else was around, though for the extra measure he tapped her on the shoulder and whispered.
"What're we gonna do?"
Tucker was somewhat surprised by the smoke rising in the sky, but whatever the hell it was he didn't want to go near it. But chances are Yagmur's inside, or whatever those crashes were was related to the fire. Nonetheless he still didn't want to go near it, but Bella and Regina did. The latter half-dragged him towards it, and he only cooperated because Regina couldn't move otherwise.
The fire was within their sights when Regina suggested that he scout. He felt bad about leaving Regina, but she implied that she'd be fine alone, didn't she? Tucker waited a few seconds before nodding in reply, letting her go and stepping forward, catching up to Bella. He wasn't sure if anyone else was around, though for the extra measure he tapped her on the shoulder and whispered.
"What're we gonna do?"
-
General Goose
- Posts: 318
- Joined: Thu Aug 09, 2018 2:51 pm
Yagmur hadn't slept.
He didn't know how he did it. He'd tried all-nighters before. To complete projects, to get work done, to catch late-night TV reruns. But he'd never succeeded. Until now.
Something about the constant threat of death made sleep a low priority, y'know?
But, sitting there, as the fire cackled and tore through the tacky cabana, there was something comforting about that. He didn't fall completely asleep. That would be unwise, given the high stakes of the situation. He didn't want to lose his grip on his alcohol either. It was decent stuff.
But he definitely closed his eyes a tad.
He didn't know how he did it. He'd tried all-nighters before. To complete projects, to get work done, to catch late-night TV reruns. But he'd never succeeded. Until now.
Something about the constant threat of death made sleep a low priority, y'know?
But, sitting there, as the fire cackled and tore through the tacky cabana, there was something comforting about that. He didn't fall completely asleep. That would be unwise, given the high stakes of the situation. He didn't want to lose his grip on his alcohol either. It was decent stuff.
But he definitely closed his eyes a tad.
[Apologies to you all for the lateness of this - things have been crazy.]
Regina had no idea what the cabanas or the resort was supposed to look like when it was not being used as a battleground for teenagers. Some of the décor was incredibly tacky, but she supposed she could glimpse the charm of the place, especially the quirkiness of the Ice Palace. Did any of them recognise the same holiday destination from their memories now, stained with blood for the sake of the ratings for escapists?The fire had found its footing, and as she drew closer to the cabana that was its source she found that even the smallest hint of the smog created was irritating her sight. It made it another battle just to keep focus on Tucker and Bella, a few steps in front, on top of the constant one to stay upright, let alone move. It made her grip tighter around the Nulla Nulla, aware that there was more than a small chance that there might be an ambush about to happen if it had not been an accident that the fire had been lit. Never mind the crackling and the completely obfuscation of all smell but that of burning wood.
If something did happen the distance was not so great that one of them would not make it back to her, but they had come out here to find Yagmur. At the very least, Regina knew she was out there to assert control again. They were going to find him, and then they would get the hell out of there – together.
It might have been Regina deluding herself with the knowledge and statistics that she had absorbed helping her father, or stubborn refusal to not back down now that she had decided to fight regardless of circumstances trying to restrict her. But that was exactly how she believed the next hour or so of her life was going to go as she paused to take a rest at the front wall of a not-burning-down cabana between the one they had left and their destination. It would take her a while to catch up, but Regina knew where they were going.
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Imehal. While this handler hasn't been around in quite a while, should they return and wish to take custody of this account and/or its posts, they are welcome to do so by contacting staff.
No answer. Her coach would not be helping her. Paisley was alone.
She wondered if it was the fire or the scarf. If it was the scarf, Paisley considered, then what would stop her from messing with the collar? If she... No. No, it did not matter. Her coach was probably being paid. He didn't care. No one cared.
Paisley understood that she was wasting time. There she was, standing ankle-deep in snow, with in a makeshift knife in her hand, several feet away from a defenseless, wounded, vulnerable girl, reaching for any excuse not to kill her.
Regina Aston. Wasn't Pia friends with her? Paisley never talked to her all that much. She remembered what Pia told her at the cabana, the one that was on fire. A twang of guilt rocketed through her body, unrelated to the apprehension of sneaking up behind someone who was resting against a wall.
Four people, by her count; Regina Aston; Yagmur Tekindor; and two shadows in the distance that she couldn't make out. There might have been more, in the cabanas or otherwise, but Paisley didn't have the inclination to look.
She saw Yagmur as she was sneaking around, his back pressed against a fence. She knew very little about him, but he seemed dazed and morose. Paisley could have chosen him, but thought better of it. Yagmur was almost a foot taller than her, and gigantic to boot. If Paisley made any mistakes, Yagmur could easily pop her head with his bare hands.
Regina, however, had a limp in her leg. She was smaller than Paisley, weaker, and alone. She also had her back to Paisley and it made everything simple. Clear cut.
Did the rest of her group forget about her? Did they forget that she couldn't walk reliably and left without her?
None of that mattered, she told herself. What mattered was that Regina was alone and vulnerable. Paisley remembered her plan, remembered Tucker. The weight of her knife grew so that she could not drop it let alone move the rest of her arm.
Regina wasn't on her team. Paisley didn't need to kill seven people, just one. Regina would not make it with her leg like that. Just do it. Don't even worry about killing the others. Paisley could beg for forgiveness when she and Tucker made it back home. Do it and run. Run.
Tears streamed down her face, soundless, motionless, for what felt like the hundredth time in two days. She didn't want to hurt Regina. And no matter what she pictured Regina as - a monster, a cow, meat - she could not ignore the fact that Regina was one of her classmates.
The cabana in the distance creaked. A gust of wind lapped at the house, fanning the fire at an angle. The flames groaned. The sound alone made Paisley cringe.
Jesus Christ. What was she doing? She couldn't do this. Paisley did not have it in her to kill Regina. She was weak. Why she ever thought she could save Tucker was beyond her. It was over. She was done. Finished. As good as dead.
Paisley almost turned. She almost walked away. She almost gave up.
Then she thought about sugar.
That made her stop.
She thought about the taste of sugar. She considered the taste of ice cream. She thought about vanilla and chocolate and strawberry. Paisley remembered Ivy's favorite flavor was Neapolitan. She thought about how Ivy always shared with Paisley. Ivy was a good girl; Paisley loved her more than anything. More than ice cream. More than Regina Aston.
The fire in her belly raged. Paisley closed the gap. In an instant her hand flew, hooked and covered Regina's mouth. Paisley's other arm lifted, glass at the ready. She brought the knife down.
"I'm sorry."
Paisley planned nothing, spur of the moment, in and out, hoping, praying that she only needed one.
She wondered if it was the fire or the scarf. If it was the scarf, Paisley considered, then what would stop her from messing with the collar? If she... No. No, it did not matter. Her coach was probably being paid. He didn't care. No one cared.
Paisley understood that she was wasting time. There she was, standing ankle-deep in snow, with in a makeshift knife in her hand, several feet away from a defenseless, wounded, vulnerable girl, reaching for any excuse not to kill her.
Regina Aston. Wasn't Pia friends with her? Paisley never talked to her all that much. She remembered what Pia told her at the cabana, the one that was on fire. A twang of guilt rocketed through her body, unrelated to the apprehension of sneaking up behind someone who was resting against a wall.
Four people, by her count; Regina Aston; Yagmur Tekindor; and two shadows in the distance that she couldn't make out. There might have been more, in the cabanas or otherwise, but Paisley didn't have the inclination to look.
She saw Yagmur as she was sneaking around, his back pressed against a fence. She knew very little about him, but he seemed dazed and morose. Paisley could have chosen him, but thought better of it. Yagmur was almost a foot taller than her, and gigantic to boot. If Paisley made any mistakes, Yagmur could easily pop her head with his bare hands.
Regina, however, had a limp in her leg. She was smaller than Paisley, weaker, and alone. She also had her back to Paisley and it made everything simple. Clear cut.
Did the rest of her group forget about her? Did they forget that she couldn't walk reliably and left without her?
None of that mattered, she told herself. What mattered was that Regina was alone and vulnerable. Paisley remembered her plan, remembered Tucker. The weight of her knife grew so that she could not drop it let alone move the rest of her arm.
Regina wasn't on her team. Paisley didn't need to kill seven people, just one. Regina would not make it with her leg like that. Just do it. Don't even worry about killing the others. Paisley could beg for forgiveness when she and Tucker made it back home. Do it and run. Run.
Tears streamed down her face, soundless, motionless, for what felt like the hundredth time in two days. She didn't want to hurt Regina. And no matter what she pictured Regina as - a monster, a cow, meat - she could not ignore the fact that Regina was one of her classmates.
The cabana in the distance creaked. A gust of wind lapped at the house, fanning the fire at an angle. The flames groaned. The sound alone made Paisley cringe.
Jesus Christ. What was she doing? She couldn't do this. Paisley did not have it in her to kill Regina. She was weak. Why she ever thought she could save Tucker was beyond her. It was over. She was done. Finished. As good as dead.
Paisley almost turned. She almost walked away. She almost gave up.
Then she thought about sugar.
That made her stop.
She thought about the taste of sugar. She considered the taste of ice cream. She thought about vanilla and chocolate and strawberry. Paisley remembered Ivy's favorite flavor was Neapolitan. She thought about how Ivy always shared with Paisley. Ivy was a good girl; Paisley loved her more than anything. More than ice cream. More than Regina Aston.
The fire in her belly raged. Paisley closed the gap. In an instant her hand flew, hooked and covered Regina's mouth. Paisley's other arm lifted, glass at the ready. She brought the knife down.
"I'm sorry."
Paisley planned nothing, spur of the moment, in and out, hoping, praying that she only needed one.
The second she felt a tap on her shoulder, Bella jumped. Her muscles tensed, a chill ran up and down her spine three times. It was almost painful.
Just Tucker, she reminded herself. He was just whispering to her about what they should do. Bella didn’t know a thing about fire, she realized. Nothing beyond what was taught in school. Sure, she knew about stopping and rolling, how to get out, or how to stay close to the ground to avoid smoke, but what if they had to go inside? She still couldn’t help but think Yagmur could be trapped inside the cabana, burning to death.
Bella also just remembered one thing: she had left the fire extinguisher back at the tower. She wasn’t even sure if it would work on the fire raging through the building, but it would be a start on that question.
Her eyes watered from the smoke as she looked closer. There appeared to be a shape, resting against the fence. There wasn’t a doubt that was a person. Was it them who started it? Bella felt her lips tighten. Even then, the taste of smoke remained in her mouth.
There was another one. This one was moving very quickly, and was some feet away. It was closer, though, even if she couldn’t tell who it was in the light. She could hear the snow crunching under its feet.
Bella found herself watching the dark shape as it approached… Regina. It was Regina. They hadn’t gone too far off, but Regina had stayed behind a bit. When she realized, she felt her heart stop. And when she saw that it was grabbing her, it struck something in her.
“Regina!” she called out.
At that moment, even with the smoke stinging her eyes, she forgot almost completely about the fire. Bella heard the snow crack under her feet as she stomped towards the shapes as quickly as she could manage.
Someone was attacking her. It could have been the person who started the fire, or it might not have been. All that mattered was getting Regina out.
Just Tucker, she reminded herself. He was just whispering to her about what they should do. Bella didn’t know a thing about fire, she realized. Nothing beyond what was taught in school. Sure, she knew about stopping and rolling, how to get out, or how to stay close to the ground to avoid smoke, but what if they had to go inside? She still couldn’t help but think Yagmur could be trapped inside the cabana, burning to death.
Bella also just remembered one thing: she had left the fire extinguisher back at the tower. She wasn’t even sure if it would work on the fire raging through the building, but it would be a start on that question.
Her eyes watered from the smoke as she looked closer. There appeared to be a shape, resting against the fence. There wasn’t a doubt that was a person. Was it them who started it? Bella felt her lips tighten. Even then, the taste of smoke remained in her mouth.
There was another one. This one was moving very quickly, and was some feet away. It was closer, though, even if she couldn’t tell who it was in the light. She could hear the snow crunching under its feet.
Bella found herself watching the dark shape as it approached… Regina. It was Regina. They hadn’t gone too far off, but Regina had stayed behind a bit. When she realized, she felt her heart stop. And when she saw that it was grabbing her, it struck something in her.
“Regina!” she called out.
At that moment, even with the smoke stinging her eyes, she forgot almost completely about the fire. Bella heard the snow crack under her feet as she stomped towards the shapes as quickly as she could manage.
Someone was attacking her. It could have been the person who started the fire, or it might not have been. All that mattered was getting Regina out.
At first Bella didn't say anything, but what she said next made his heart skip a beat. He turned around and regretted leaving her behind.
It was stupid, letting her lag behind them, their backs turned to her as they focused on the raging fire in front of them. Hell, she was incapacitated on top of all of that: it was a tactical and strategic move everybody at home would poke fun at, turning their backs on the injured girl in a dog-eat-dog environment. It was a mistake Tucker had seen countless times on the show himself, and it was a terrible, terrible mistake.
A mistake that would cost a life.
His instincts were to pull out the knife and quickly move towards Regina and her attacker. He couldn't see much in the darkness, even with the fire providing a decent amount of light. The assailant looked small, as small as Regina herself: that would make them easier to fight, right? At first Tucker wasn't too sure who they were or even make out a bandanna on their body (let alone a team color), but one detail stopped him in his tracks.
He noticed a glint of light orange hair, so light that it could easily be mistaken for blonde. It was almost identical to his, and then he realized who was trying to kill his ally.
Tucker froze, only slightly aware of the commotion in front of him. He felt the knife slip from his hands, and land in the snow below. The freed hand went to his forehead as he looked down at his own shoes before looking at the struggle again. Could it really be her?
No, it couldn't be her, could it? There were a lot of short ginger girls in the world, but when the hair color and the circumstances were taken into consideration it definitely was her. She was probably terrified, and might've seen much worse violence than him...he didn't even consider the possibility of her being kidnapped alongside him! He hadn't looked at the other faces that much during the orientation, and from the get-go he was too absorbed in his own survival to even consider the possibility of hers. He felt like a prime candidate of the Worst Brother of the Year Award, probably in the runs for winning: 'Not regarding own sister's safety in bloodbath'. That's probably what he'll be remembered for by the fandom, a boy who forgot about his sister.
He didn't say anything at all. Tucker didn't shout or scream or yell or try to stop the fighting in general. He only stayed still and muttered to himself. "God dammit..."
It was stupid, letting her lag behind them, their backs turned to her as they focused on the raging fire in front of them. Hell, she was incapacitated on top of all of that: it was a tactical and strategic move everybody at home would poke fun at, turning their backs on the injured girl in a dog-eat-dog environment. It was a mistake Tucker had seen countless times on the show himself, and it was a terrible, terrible mistake.
A mistake that would cost a life.
His instincts were to pull out the knife and quickly move towards Regina and her attacker. He couldn't see much in the darkness, even with the fire providing a decent amount of light. The assailant looked small, as small as Regina herself: that would make them easier to fight, right? At first Tucker wasn't too sure who they were or even make out a bandanna on their body (let alone a team color), but one detail stopped him in his tracks.
He noticed a glint of light orange hair, so light that it could easily be mistaken for blonde. It was almost identical to his, and then he realized who was trying to kill his ally.
Tucker froze, only slightly aware of the commotion in front of him. He felt the knife slip from his hands, and land in the snow below. The freed hand went to his forehead as he looked down at his own shoes before looking at the struggle again. Could it really be her?
No, it couldn't be her, could it? There were a lot of short ginger girls in the world, but when the hair color and the circumstances were taken into consideration it definitely was her. She was probably terrified, and might've seen much worse violence than him...he didn't even consider the possibility of her being kidnapped alongside him! He hadn't looked at the other faces that much during the orientation, and from the get-go he was too absorbed in his own survival to even consider the possibility of hers. He felt like a prime candidate of the Worst Brother of the Year Award, probably in the runs for winning: 'Not regarding own sister's safety in bloodbath'. That's probably what he'll be remembered for by the fandom, a boy who forgot about his sister.
He didn't say anything at all. Tucker didn't shout or scream or yell or try to stop the fighting in general. He only stayed still and muttered to himself. "God dammit..."
-
General Goose
- Posts: 318
- Joined: Thu Aug 09, 2018 2:51 pm
Yagmur slept.
When he awoke, he'd look upon the chaos and suffering his arson had caused. He would be besieged by guilt. The misunderstandings, the fighting, the killing in the Cul de Sac - that was his fault. His fault for letting his impulsive, angry id take control for just one decision.
He had not considered how his companions would react to the site of an unexplained fire. No idea what signal it would send, or the possible stories it would paint. All those regrets, those common-sense considerations neglected, would hit him after he woke up.
The fact he himself, had he been just a bit lighter and a bit shorter, could have been killed didn't even occur to him. And it never would.
When he woke up, the guilt and frustration and self-anger at his own stupidity would hit him hard. All the emotions and potential regrets he should have considered before he started the fire and fell asleep would hit him, too late to be fixed.
But for now, as the warmth of the fire kept off the cold, he slept.
When he awoke, he'd look upon the chaos and suffering his arson had caused. He would be besieged by guilt. The misunderstandings, the fighting, the killing in the Cul de Sac - that was his fault. His fault for letting his impulsive, angry id take control for just one decision.
He had not considered how his companions would react to the site of an unexplained fire. No idea what signal it would send, or the possible stories it would paint. All those regrets, those common-sense considerations neglected, would hit him after he woke up.
The fact he himself, had he been just a bit lighter and a bit shorter, could have been killed didn't even occur to him. And it never would.
When he woke up, the guilt and frustration and self-anger at his own stupidity would hit him hard. All the emotions and potential regrets he should have considered before he started the fire and fell asleep would hit him, too late to be fixed.
But for now, as the warmth of the fire kept off the cold, he slept.
The duality of the consequences of hearing her name yelled at across the relatively short distance almost cost, and probably saved, Regina’s life. It told her that the hand across the mouth was not a friend’s, even if the voice that whispered apologies triggered familiarity in her.
The plan had changed, but the determination to fight had not waned, meaning that instead of freezing at the prospect of being attacked again – at being touched against her will. Familiar anxiety rose, bubbling dangerously below the surface of anger and will-not-lose. It meant that there was fear, not strategy, in the way she attacked with the Nulla Nulla and her good foot simultaneously; stamping down on the attacker’s foot as the weapon swung in an arc on the side that attempted to hold her still.
Trying to support herself on one injured knee had its consequences, and Regina felt tears sting her eyes as she fought to maintain balance as she began to fall backwards into the assailant as one startling thought constantly ran through her mind: Why did you warn me?
The plan had changed, but the determination to fight had not waned, meaning that instead of freezing at the prospect of being attacked again – at being touched against her will. Familiar anxiety rose, bubbling dangerously below the surface of anger and will-not-lose. It meant that there was fear, not strategy, in the way she attacked with the Nulla Nulla and her good foot simultaneously; stamping down on the attacker’s foot as the weapon swung in an arc on the side that attempted to hold her still.
Trying to support herself on one injured knee had its consequences, and Regina felt tears sting her eyes as she fought to maintain balance as she began to fall backwards into the assailant as one startling thought constantly ran through her mind: Why did you warn me?
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Imehal. While this handler hasn't been around in quite a while, should they return and wish to take custody of this account and/or its posts, they are welcome to do so by contacting staff.
(Ime's given me the thumbs up here.)
In the time between Regina stomping her boot and the club hitting her in the head, Paisley felt... calm. Strangely calm. Was she about to die? Probably. It was appropriate, really. Screwing up and getting killed. Everything slowed to a crawl and suddenly Paisley thought about Genevieve. Really thought about Genevieve. About how she shot her and how easy it was.
Gameplay; strategy; accident; common sense; none of those had anything to do with it. She shot Gene because Pia hesitated. She shot two people for no discernible reason and yet when faced with someone with a grudge, she froze. Paisley genuinely thought Genevieve was going to do something. Maybe not kill Pia. Gene was probably planning to just yell at her. Maybe slap Pia, then walk off. That never occurred to Paisley. She wondered if Genevieve was a good person. Could they have been friends? That was hindsight though; at the time, friendship was off the table. Genevieve was a threat and Paisley was afraid. All Paisley could think of was Pia, Tucker, Marcus, anyone other than herself.
Did Paisley mean to kill her? Because she did kill her, technically speaking. Christ, she can't even remember. It felt so long ago! Paisley didn't want to kill anyone! She was more sure of that than Maybe that made it all the more easier to brush under the rug. Genevieve was buried under a thousand different thoughts and Paisley did not want to even think about her. But what she did know, what crushed her and turned her to shreds, was how she felt after she shot Genevieve. She did not feel remorse. She felt pity but not regret or guilt. Because she did it. She saved Pia; for a brief millisecond, Paisley honestly believed that she saved her best friend.
"We're a team," she told herself. "We'll work together and find a way to go back home."
Then Pia turned to her and looked her dead in the eye and lecture her about the "mess" she made. Paisley proceeded to shove the guilt onto her best friend. Why was that?
Because she was right. Pia, Pia was right. Paisley did not help. She made things more complicated than they needed to be. Pia was carrying all of the weight.
But it wasn't just that, was it? No, story of her fucking life. Just hang back, Paisley. Do you think you can look after Ivy, Paisley? Can you help me with my homework, Paisley? Did you really skip class to go to the library, Paisley? That doesn't sound like the Paisley I know, Paisley! You're a good girl, Paisley! Just a cute, innocent kid, Paisley! That's why you You can't do it alone Paisley! You certainly can't kill anyone on your own Paisley! Even the girl with the limp has more fight than you Paisley! This is why Eli abandoned you Paisley! You had Regina in the palm of her hand Paisley! She served herself to you like a T-Bone Steak and you still couldn't seal the fucking deal Paisley!
This is why Pia abandoned you, Paisley. This is why Eli abandoned you, Paisley.
You pathetic waste.
So, so stupid.
Stupid, but lucky.
The club clipped her chin, more graze than clunk. Even so, the force from the blow alone made her head spin. It made her gasp, it burned with a fire Paisley could not adequately describe but she knew it would leave a horrendous bruise. But Paisley didn't think of that, no, all logic and rationality shut off and all that was left was fear and anger and confusion over why she wasn't dead. She knew warning Regina was a big mistake. But Paisley had to apologize, she just had to, she did not want to kill Regina, she just needed Regina, no, she didn't need Regina, she just needed to kill her, she just had to, she had to kill her, she had to, she just had to.
Regina's arm was still outstretched, stretched above Paisley's right shoulder. The club was still in her fingers. Paisley grabbed her arm, squeezed, then turned, all at once. She put all of her weight into her front foot then pushed the rest of her body back. Her butt bumped Regina's hip, and Regina's arm was in a death vice; like a bloodthirsty Chinese finger trap and twice as painful. There was no time to think, no time to second guess. She bent forward. Squatting, ankles dipping, body screaming, Paisley went in for the take down. With ever ounce of strength in her entire body, Paisley jerked forward and threw Regina over her shoulder.
She knew everything like the back of her hand. She knew she needed pull Regina forward and lift herself from the squat at the exact same time. She knew she had to put her hip into it, to roll Regina off of that instead of her back because there was no chance Regina could recover. Paisley also knew to put her weight into her back foot so Regina would fall straight down, from arm height instead of hip height. And she knew not to let go of Regina's arm until she hit the ground.
It went smoothly. Textbook. Perfect. But there was no grace. Mindless. Punctuated only by a guttural, inhuman scream, like some barbarian. Like a monster.
Paisley did not consider any of this. Neither did she give Regina a second to recover. The girl pounced, one hand clutching Regina's club, the other covering her mouth. Her knee pressed into Regina's stomach, because with her bad leg she knew she would not be able to weasel out. But she still struggled. Something about that made her snap.
"Regina!" Paisley snarled, "Don't make this harder than it needs to be!"
Paisley wasn't sure if Regina knew who she was. She may have been friends with Pia, sure, but the same could not be said about Paisley. She didn't exactly have the inclination to ask, either.
Regardless, Regina would be hard pressed to recognize the girl on top of her. Her attacker did not look like Paisley. They did not sound like Paisley. The voice was hers, the face was hers, sure. But her tone, her expression, it was all wrong, it wasn't Paisley Hopkins, Paisley Hopkins did not look like that, Paisley Hopkins was a nice girl, she couldn't kill anyone! This couldn't be Paisley Hopkins. No way. Who is this impostor?
Then again, how could Regina possibly understand? The why's and how's? She did not have the luxury of playing twenty questions with Paisley Hopkins. All she could gather was the look on her face. Her intentions, her context, her story, none of it was obvious from her expression.
But what Regina could gather though, what she could read plainly on Paisley's face?
That there would be no compromises and she would not be finding sanctuary in Paisley Hopkins's eyes.
She lost the knife in the time it took to take Regina down. It was lost somewhere in the snow - Jesus, nothing was ever simple, was it? Life just seemed to relish in giving Paisley headaches! So the glass shard was out. The club would have to do. Ignoring the nails digging into her arm, she brought the heel of her other leg down on Regina's bad leg. In the split second of shock, Paisley wrenched the Nulla Nulla from Regina, hand still covering her mouth.
That was the end. Paisley was finished. No more talk, no more plans, no more apologies. She'd pray when she got home. Just plop down at the foot of her bed and pray and pray and pray. God would forgive her. He'd have to, surely he understood. She tried to be good, she really did. Until then, she would pray to no one and think of no one but her family.
Paisley lifted the club, thought about ice cream and brought it down on Regina's face. She threw her arm up again, thought about Ivy sharing Neapolitan, then hit Regina again.
She didn't care how many she needed. She just had to.
In the time between Regina stomping her boot and the club hitting her in the head, Paisley felt... calm. Strangely calm. Was she about to die? Probably. It was appropriate, really. Screwing up and getting killed. Everything slowed to a crawl and suddenly Paisley thought about Genevieve. Really thought about Genevieve. About how she shot her and how easy it was.
Gameplay; strategy; accident; common sense; none of those had anything to do with it. She shot Gene because Pia hesitated. She shot two people for no discernible reason and yet when faced with someone with a grudge, she froze. Paisley genuinely thought Genevieve was going to do something. Maybe not kill Pia. Gene was probably planning to just yell at her. Maybe slap Pia, then walk off. That never occurred to Paisley. She wondered if Genevieve was a good person. Could they have been friends? That was hindsight though; at the time, friendship was off the table. Genevieve was a threat and Paisley was afraid. All Paisley could think of was Pia, Tucker, Marcus, anyone other than herself.
Did Paisley mean to kill her? Because she did kill her, technically speaking. Christ, she can't even remember. It felt so long ago! Paisley didn't want to kill anyone! She was more sure of that than Maybe that made it all the more easier to brush under the rug. Genevieve was buried under a thousand different thoughts and Paisley did not want to even think about her. But what she did know, what crushed her and turned her to shreds, was how she felt after she shot Genevieve. She did not feel remorse. She felt pity but not regret or guilt. Because she did it. She saved Pia; for a brief millisecond, Paisley honestly believed that she saved her best friend.
"We're a team," she told herself. "We'll work together and find a way to go back home."
Then Pia turned to her and looked her dead in the eye and lecture her about the "mess" she made. Paisley proceeded to shove the guilt onto her best friend. Why was that?
Because she was right. Pia, Pia was right. Paisley did not help. She made things more complicated than they needed to be. Pia was carrying all of the weight.
But it wasn't just that, was it? No, story of her fucking life. Just hang back, Paisley. Do you think you can look after Ivy, Paisley? Can you help me with my homework, Paisley? Did you really skip class to go to the library, Paisley? That doesn't sound like the Paisley I know, Paisley! You're a good girl, Paisley! Just a cute, innocent kid, Paisley! That's why you You can't do it alone Paisley! You certainly can't kill anyone on your own Paisley! Even the girl with the limp has more fight than you Paisley! This is why Eli abandoned you Paisley! You had Regina in the palm of her hand Paisley! She served herself to you like a T-Bone Steak and you still couldn't seal the fucking deal Paisley!
This is why Pia abandoned you, Paisley. This is why Eli abandoned you, Paisley.
You pathetic waste.
So, so stupid.
Stupid, but lucky.
The club clipped her chin, more graze than clunk. Even so, the force from the blow alone made her head spin. It made her gasp, it burned with a fire Paisley could not adequately describe but she knew it would leave a horrendous bruise. But Paisley didn't think of that, no, all logic and rationality shut off and all that was left was fear and anger and confusion over why she wasn't dead. She knew warning Regina was a big mistake. But Paisley had to apologize, she just had to, she did not want to kill Regina, she just needed Regina, no, she didn't need Regina, she just needed to kill her, she just had to, she had to kill her, she had to, she just had to.
Regina's arm was still outstretched, stretched above Paisley's right shoulder. The club was still in her fingers. Paisley grabbed her arm, squeezed, then turned, all at once. She put all of her weight into her front foot then pushed the rest of her body back. Her butt bumped Regina's hip, and Regina's arm was in a death vice; like a bloodthirsty Chinese finger trap and twice as painful. There was no time to think, no time to second guess. She bent forward. Squatting, ankles dipping, body screaming, Paisley went in for the take down. With ever ounce of strength in her entire body, Paisley jerked forward and threw Regina over her shoulder.
She knew everything like the back of her hand. She knew she needed pull Regina forward and lift herself from the squat at the exact same time. She knew she had to put her hip into it, to roll Regina off of that instead of her back because there was no chance Regina could recover. Paisley also knew to put her weight into her back foot so Regina would fall straight down, from arm height instead of hip height. And she knew not to let go of Regina's arm until she hit the ground.
It went smoothly. Textbook. Perfect. But there was no grace. Mindless. Punctuated only by a guttural, inhuman scream, like some barbarian. Like a monster.
Paisley did not consider any of this. Neither did she give Regina a second to recover. The girl pounced, one hand clutching Regina's club, the other covering her mouth. Her knee pressed into Regina's stomach, because with her bad leg she knew she would not be able to weasel out. But she still struggled. Something about that made her snap.
"Regina!" Paisley snarled, "Don't make this harder than it needs to be!"
Paisley wasn't sure if Regina knew who she was. She may have been friends with Pia, sure, but the same could not be said about Paisley. She didn't exactly have the inclination to ask, either.
Regardless, Regina would be hard pressed to recognize the girl on top of her. Her attacker did not look like Paisley. They did not sound like Paisley. The voice was hers, the face was hers, sure. But her tone, her expression, it was all wrong, it wasn't Paisley Hopkins, Paisley Hopkins did not look like that, Paisley Hopkins was a nice girl, she couldn't kill anyone! This couldn't be Paisley Hopkins. No way. Who is this impostor?
Then again, how could Regina possibly understand? The why's and how's? She did not have the luxury of playing twenty questions with Paisley Hopkins. All she could gather was the look on her face. Her intentions, her context, her story, none of it was obvious from her expression.
But what Regina could gather though, what she could read plainly on Paisley's face?
That there would be no compromises and she would not be finding sanctuary in Paisley Hopkins's eyes.
She lost the knife in the time it took to take Regina down. It was lost somewhere in the snow - Jesus, nothing was ever simple, was it? Life just seemed to relish in giving Paisley headaches! So the glass shard was out. The club would have to do. Ignoring the nails digging into her arm, she brought the heel of her other leg down on Regina's bad leg. In the split second of shock, Paisley wrenched the Nulla Nulla from Regina, hand still covering her mouth.
That was the end. Paisley was finished. No more talk, no more plans, no more apologies. She'd pray when she got home. Just plop down at the foot of her bed and pray and pray and pray. God would forgive her. He'd have to, surely he understood. She tried to be good, she really did. Until then, she would pray to no one and think of no one but her family.
Paisley lifted the club, thought about ice cream and brought it down on Regina's face. She threw her arm up again, thought about Ivy sharing Neapolitan, then hit Regina again.
She didn't care how many she needed. She just had to.
Whoever was attacking Regina, they weren't backing down.
As Bella and Tucker approached, she could see her and the shape in a struggle. From the look of things, it appeared to be a girl, and a very aggressive one at that. Regina was fighting back, but again, with that leg she was at a disadvantage. Soon enough, she was being pushed to the ground, the club out of her hands. A shout filled the air, telling her not to make things harder.
Bella knew she had to do something. She didn't know Regina well, but she couldn't watch her die.
For a brief second, an image flashed inside her mind. Will, broken inside Aidan's arms. How she had done nothing then. The only thing she could do for him was go after Gene, but it was too late. Will was gone. She felt the pogo stick grow heavy in her arms. Will had died like this. And she had done nothing.
The snow under her feet crunched further and further as she stomped quicker. Bella saw the club go down, and familiar feelings came up. That same pit in her stomach, that same feeling of nausea. But also that same burning.
There wouldn't be another Will.
Bella wasn't really thinking. But she knew what she had to do. She couldn't see any other option. But she was close now, enough to get a better look at her. Orange hair, and looked vaguely familiar. Where she had seen her before, she didn't care enough right now.
She did the first thing that came to mind, and swung.
As Bella and Tucker approached, she could see her and the shape in a struggle. From the look of things, it appeared to be a girl, and a very aggressive one at that. Regina was fighting back, but again, with that leg she was at a disadvantage. Soon enough, she was being pushed to the ground, the club out of her hands. A shout filled the air, telling her not to make things harder.
Bella knew she had to do something. She didn't know Regina well, but she couldn't watch her die.
For a brief second, an image flashed inside her mind. Will, broken inside Aidan's arms. How she had done nothing then. The only thing she could do for him was go after Gene, but it was too late. Will was gone. She felt the pogo stick grow heavy in her arms. Will had died like this. And she had done nothing.
The snow under her feet crunched further and further as she stomped quicker. Bella saw the club go down, and familiar feelings came up. That same pit in her stomach, that same feeling of nausea. But also that same burning.
There wouldn't be another Will.
Bella wasn't really thinking. But she knew what she had to do. She couldn't see any other option. But she was close now, enough to get a better look at her. Orange hair, and looked vaguely familiar. Where she had seen her before, she didn't care enough right now.
She did the first thing that came to mind, and swung.
Paisley didn't hear Bella coming up on her. She couldn't even hear the sounds of the club colliding with Regina's head and the muffled screams. All she could hear was the fire. It grew and grew in intensity, building and building until it was the only thing she could hear. Bella caught her when Paisley went in for a forth hit. Dodging was impossible. All Paisley managed was to catch a blur in the corner of her eye.
Then the pogo stick hit her square in the face.
The force knocked Paisley onto her back. She moaned and quickly rolled onto her hands. Everything was slow after that. Her fingers dug into the snow. Her ears rang. Her body shuddered. She coughed up a tooth. Blood dribbled from her mouth and nostrils. The pain made her want to cry.
Yet. Paisley only thought of fire.
Then the pogo stick hit her square in the face.
The force knocked Paisley onto her back. She moaned and quickly rolled onto her hands. Everything was slow after that. Her fingers dug into the snow. Her ears rang. Her body shuddered. She coughed up a tooth. Blood dribbled from her mouth and nostrils. The pain made her want to cry.
Yet. Paisley only thought of fire.
The smell of rust mixed with smoke.
Bella managed to get her in the face, knocking her down. Even in the dark, she could see a splotch of red on the girl’s mouth. She felt herself gulp a bit, in spite of her dry mouth and the taste of smoke.
The girl was still moving, rolling on her stomach. Bella wasn’t sure how hard she hit, but her mind decided not to dwell on that. Instead:
“Get out”, the words slipped out of her mouth, low and cold.
In spite of everything else, her knees shook.
Bella managed to get her in the face, knocking her down. Even in the dark, she could see a splotch of red on the girl’s mouth. She felt herself gulp a bit, in spite of her dry mouth and the taste of smoke.
The girl was still moving, rolling on her stomach. Bella wasn’t sure how hard she hit, but her mind decided not to dwell on that. Instead:
“Get out”, the words slipped out of her mouth, low and cold.
In spite of everything else, her knees shook.