No shots. But she did manage to turn around quick enough to see Corin swing his gun right at her. He connected with her side, sending her off the body and onto her face. He yelled something that didn't matter. Her body cried in pain, her soul accepted it.
"That's not" she wheezed. "How you use that." She rolled over her busted arm, letting out another whimper. She lay on her back now, looking up at her assailant.
"I'm off." She spoke slowly between deep breaths. "Are you done?" She coughed. "Or am I gonna." Another few coughs. "Be tenderized?" She slumped her head back and stared at the ceiling, still having difficulty breathing.
She deserved this. She deserved to die. Better now than later. Better to someone with a reason than none at all.
...
... ...
... ... ...
The ghosts stood over her. All this time they hadn't moved, but now they surrounded her.
"No. Enough. Enough! It's over!"
She raised her head up again to Corin, a burning fire in her eyes. If he moved to strike her again she was gonna cut his fucking arms off. No more running. No more personas. Face the music chica. It's time to confess your sins and make up for them.
I (Don't) Remember
(Nor Do) I Recall
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Lord_Shadow
- Posts: 536
- Joined: Thu Aug 09, 2018 2:43 am
- Team Affiliation: Emmy's Selkies
There was once a dumb psuedo-news line here. Now there's this pretentious nonsense. YOU1 DID THIS, YOU1 KNOW WHO YOU1 ARE!
1. Yeah you, you nefarious ne'er-do-well you.
1. Yeah you, you nefarious ne'er-do-well you.
He didn’t have it in him to quip back to her, he looked down on her as her whimpers started tugging at the pity he still had in him. His body started to rock subtly as he lifted the rifle again, his breathing heavy and his teeth gritted together. He should have struck her again, over and over again, as she had said herself.
But she cried out that it was enough, and his mind reeled back in response. For the moment he looked her in the eyes he interpreted something that seemed almost like lucidity in that expression. She seemed more real than the girl he’d shot down stairs, his sense of familiarity just blocking the anger enough to make him stop.
He was too close. The expression pissed him off, but it was complicated, even though he wished he had the nerve to keep going.
Not that him relenting meant anything near forgiveness or even tolerance.
His arms shook and he did the last possible thing he could think of, he spat at her. And it was not like the time he’d spat at his mother over nothing, not really meaning it when he was nine years old, regretting it when his father fixed him with the belt to ass method. This time he meant it, the most disrespectful thing he could muster.
He broke eye contact as he stepped away and swung, grunting in frustration as the rifle tore through the air space hard enough to make a faint whistle. He couldn’t hit her; he missed her by a wide and purposeful margin as he took his aggression out on the air. After the first strike, he didn’t have it in him; his arms had a weakness that was caused by nothing other than nerve.
He turned the rifle in his hands, switching the safety off.
“Piss off.” He shot her a look that was nothing like the soft pity he’d offered her before, his voice unsteady. He wanted to get to Anzu, and for that she needed to go.
“Before I shoot you, piss off.”
He wouldn’t ever warn her again. He had a lot more to say to her, but he just couldn’t manage it.
Go and die in the snow like you were meant to, was what he wanted to say.
But she cried out that it was enough, and his mind reeled back in response. For the moment he looked her in the eyes he interpreted something that seemed almost like lucidity in that expression. She seemed more real than the girl he’d shot down stairs, his sense of familiarity just blocking the anger enough to make him stop.
He was too close. The expression pissed him off, but it was complicated, even though he wished he had the nerve to keep going.
Not that him relenting meant anything near forgiveness or even tolerance.
His arms shook and he did the last possible thing he could think of, he spat at her. And it was not like the time he’d spat at his mother over nothing, not really meaning it when he was nine years old, regretting it when his father fixed him with the belt to ass method. This time he meant it, the most disrespectful thing he could muster.
He broke eye contact as he stepped away and swung, grunting in frustration as the rifle tore through the air space hard enough to make a faint whistle. He couldn’t hit her; he missed her by a wide and purposeful margin as he took his aggression out on the air. After the first strike, he didn’t have it in him; his arms had a weakness that was caused by nothing other than nerve.
He turned the rifle in his hands, switching the safety off.
“Piss off.” He shot her a look that was nothing like the soft pity he’d offered her before, his voice unsteady. He wanted to get to Anzu, and for that she needed to go.
“Before I shoot you, piss off.”
He wouldn’t ever warn her again. He had a lot more to say to her, but he just couldn’t manage it.
Go and die in the snow like you were meant to, was what he wanted to say.
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Lord_Shadow
- Posts: 536
- Joined: Thu Aug 09, 2018 2:43 am
- Team Affiliation: Emmy's Selkies
"Noted." She couldn't get up like this, so she rolled over again and crawled her way down the other set of stairs. It hurt with every slump down a step, but she reached the bottom. Another part of the casino, all empty and lifeless, was hers to claim. She crawled over to the nearby furniture and used it for support to get up.
This must have been where the two of them had come in. Great. She placed a hand over her broken arm. If felt warm with blood. No doubt her wound had opened up again. She sighed and leaned back against a slot machine.
"Enough. Wasn't meant towards him. Was meant toward me. No more games Anastasia. No more AnArchy. No more wacky, zany, disgusting personalities."
The ghosts once more surrounded her.
"Closure. Rest. You won't go away until I get that for you." She smiled weakly. "Even when I decide to stop running, I'm still crazy aren't I?" She laughed a hollow laugh.
"I'm okay with that. Fulfill my purpose. What I set out for when I was taken away here. To change the world." She stared right into the nearest camera as she spoke. "And I will. Even if this world isn't real. Even though I'm more fake than anything else here. Even if it is real, and my delusions are wrong. No matter what, real or fake, I need to change it."
She lifted her good arm and raised her head to the sky. "I'm gonna die here. But I won't go until everyone left is dealt with. Our story must come to a close. The end, finally, is here."
She closed her eyes.
...
... So ... Is this it?
No more fragments?
No more fun?
No more dealing with the drama?
Still crazy, still broken. Not at all safe or sane. But ready to do what's necessary. The time is right. Unite the fragments, the extremes, all as one. As one, change the world. I can go back to inane rambling and self-pity after that.
She opened her eyes.
"I'm gonna end this game. And everyone will hate how I do it. Everyone will hate me. And I'll have the last laugh." She lowered her head and hand. "Maxim Nihil: AnArchy is not. Never was. Never will be."
This must have been where the two of them had come in. Great. She placed a hand over her broken arm. If felt warm with blood. No doubt her wound had opened up again. She sighed and leaned back against a slot machine.
"Enough. Wasn't meant towards him. Was meant toward me. No more games Anastasia. No more AnArchy. No more wacky, zany, disgusting personalities."
The ghosts once more surrounded her.
"Closure. Rest. You won't go away until I get that for you." She smiled weakly. "Even when I decide to stop running, I'm still crazy aren't I?" She laughed a hollow laugh.
"I'm okay with that. Fulfill my purpose. What I set out for when I was taken away here. To change the world." She stared right into the nearest camera as she spoke. "And I will. Even if this world isn't real. Even though I'm more fake than anything else here. Even if it is real, and my delusions are wrong. No matter what, real or fake, I need to change it."
She lifted her good arm and raised her head to the sky. "I'm gonna die here. But I won't go until everyone left is dealt with. Our story must come to a close. The end, finally, is here."
She closed her eyes.
...
... So ... Is this it?
No more fragments?
No more fun?
No more dealing with the drama?
Still crazy, still broken. Not at all safe or sane. But ready to do what's necessary. The time is right. Unite the fragments, the extremes, all as one. As one, change the world. I can go back to inane rambling and self-pity after that.
She opened her eyes.
"I'm gonna end this game. And everyone will hate how I do it. Everyone will hate me. And I'll have the last laugh." She lowered her head and hand. "Maxim Nihil: AnArchy is not. Never was. Never will be."
There was once a dumb psuedo-news line here. Now there's this pretentious nonsense. YOU1 DID THIS, YOU1 KNOW WHO YOU1 ARE!
1. Yeah you, you nefarious ne'er-do-well you.
1. Yeah you, you nefarious ne'er-do-well you.
-
General Goose
- Posts: 318
- Joined: Thu Aug 09, 2018 2:51 pm
It must have been a muscle twitch.
That happened, right? Muscles contracted, or a bodily impulse kicked in during the final moments, or some blood loss or collapsing internal organ had affected the face.
She couldn't have been smiling.
Hell, maybe the problem was on his end. Maybe his eyes were playing tricks on him, seeing things due to the lighting or his own mental predispositions or whatever.
But it wasn't an unbelievable smile, was the thing. It was that sort of weary, sad smile, the one you gave to comfort others or to celebrate silver linings.
Yagmur didn't know. He would never know.
Ana went down one of the flights of stairs, and into a dark and unknown corner of the casino.
Good. Yagmur hated the voice in his head that was thinking about things through the perspective of the game, through their rules, but Ana had no right, no reason, to outlive so many others.
She would not outlive him.
Yagmur decided to occupy his mind. The casino had a lingering odour of strong (but cheap) whiskey. He would go and find it.
That happened, right? Muscles contracted, or a bodily impulse kicked in during the final moments, or some blood loss or collapsing internal organ had affected the face.
She couldn't have been smiling.
Hell, maybe the problem was on his end. Maybe his eyes were playing tricks on him, seeing things due to the lighting or his own mental predispositions or whatever.
But it wasn't an unbelievable smile, was the thing. It was that sort of weary, sad smile, the one you gave to comfort others or to celebrate silver linings.
Yagmur didn't know. He would never know.
Ana went down one of the flights of stairs, and into a dark and unknown corner of the casino.
Good. Yagmur hated the voice in his head that was thinking about things through the perspective of the game, through their rules, but Ana had no right, no reason, to outlive so many others.
She would not outlive him.
Yagmur decided to occupy his mind. The casino had a lingering odour of strong (but cheap) whiskey. He would go and find it.
His finger pulled on the trigger, at least it did in his imagination, but in reality it remained resting on the guard. He imagined Ana tumbling down the stairs, multiple thuds followed by a sickening crack, and then by a grin of satisfaction on his end. Somehow he revelled in it, somewhere there was shame and disgust but he’d lost track of what emotions were spinning around in the ball-room that was his head. Maybe it wouldn’t be long until he started to follow in Ana’s footsteps, or became a different and malicious entity altogether. If his brain contained the ability to think things through and reflect, he could say he pretty much thought he understood the type of person who’d haunt a place after death. He felt like he was going to become one, though maybe death wouldn’t exactly be the first step.
His gaze shifted to Anzu’s remains, he was angry, sometime when he had started hitting Anastasia he’d been crying. He was glad that she hadn’t gone full and looted her or worse, his gun he put down for a small moment, leaning it against one of the machines. It was probably the first time he’d actually let it go, he’d held onto it for so long that it became a quickly developed habit. He didn’t realise that he was rocking on the heels of his feet, swaying back and forth; he looked a lot like the ‘freaky looking mental cases’ that he’d step around on the streets. His body was out of control, his teeth were gritting, and he was holding himself.
It wasn’t like there was anyone else in this god forsaken place.
He looked at Anzu.
No... The word resounded clearly in his head, visibly shaking it and the thought away, he wasn’t that far gone.
“No, no, no…”
He realised he needed to part with her soon; if he couldn’t look at her then he could start to sever those feelings. His expression was distant as he shrugged off the back pack, and audible thud as it haphazardly dropped. He pulled the zipper open, what he was looking for wasn’t exactly clear to anyone watching until he pulled out his first aid kit, procuring the thermal blanket, gloves and adhesive tape from the pack. There was a lighter, though his hands never opened enough to show it before slipping it into his pocket. He unfolded the blanket and dropped it onto the ground, before he started rolling her onto it. It was a mess, he had to turn away to relieve his stomach not far off from where he was. Just to slide what he could on to that sheet, it was probably the most determined thing he had ever done.
Even so, half way through he absolutely lost it before emitting a hoarse and unexpected grunt of frustration through gritted teeth, before repeating rapping a balled fist against his skull in frustration. He got blood on him without meaning to, it was the type of thing that stated to wear into his mind; most sane people would probably have urged him to stop long ago. Those blows weren’t punishing, his body resisted in order to preserve itself after all, but the action reflected his desires.
He stopped abruptly, he was too caught up in his mental fit to expect the interruption, his body jolted like he was just waking up and he raised his head despite the fact that no one was standing in front of him. It looked as though he half expected someone to be, but the expression of realisation soon crossed his features as he looked down at his collar. He slumped to his knees and he placed his dirty hands on them, looking mentally beaten.
He remembered Toby was there at his station then.
But he didn’t respond, not for a long time, there was only uncomfortable silence as he looked distantly around and groaned.
“Okay, okay, okay…” He muttered eventually in chant, maybe in response to Toby, or perhaps simply to collect himself.
“I need to finish up… is all.” He continued to mutter under his breath.
He got back onto his feet slowly, hesitantly even. But the thing that really mattered was that he managed to do it, crack his mind back into the place. Even if it wasn’t going to be exactly as it had once been.
He set into motion again, this time he was almost violent with his movements as he finished sliding Anzu onto that blanket, leaving her supine. The longer he spent there, the more haphazard and speedy his actions became until he was finally just piling her things on top of her so it would just be done.
He hurried to tape her up in the silvery sheet, it didn’t matter that her feet stuck out. It just mattered that she and her belongings stayed out of Ana’s disgusting palms.
He’d make sure of it one way or another.
He gathered his things, his weapon, and tracked blood across the casino floor as he left Anzu behind up there; he offered the last bit of protection he could possibly give, along with the little food and supplies he wanted to spare. He knew that it was too late for those kinds of gestures, thought so as he discarded his gloves over the stair railings.
Back to being lost without an anchor.
His gaze shifted to Anzu’s remains, he was angry, sometime when he had started hitting Anastasia he’d been crying. He was glad that she hadn’t gone full and looted her or worse, his gun he put down for a small moment, leaning it against one of the machines. It was probably the first time he’d actually let it go, he’d held onto it for so long that it became a quickly developed habit. He didn’t realise that he was rocking on the heels of his feet, swaying back and forth; he looked a lot like the ‘freaky looking mental cases’ that he’d step around on the streets. His body was out of control, his teeth were gritting, and he was holding himself.
It wasn’t like there was anyone else in this god forsaken place.
He looked at Anzu.
No... The word resounded clearly in his head, visibly shaking it and the thought away, he wasn’t that far gone.
“No, no, no…”
He realised he needed to part with her soon; if he couldn’t look at her then he could start to sever those feelings. His expression was distant as he shrugged off the back pack, and audible thud as it haphazardly dropped. He pulled the zipper open, what he was looking for wasn’t exactly clear to anyone watching until he pulled out his first aid kit, procuring the thermal blanket, gloves and adhesive tape from the pack. There was a lighter, though his hands never opened enough to show it before slipping it into his pocket. He unfolded the blanket and dropped it onto the ground, before he started rolling her onto it. It was a mess, he had to turn away to relieve his stomach not far off from where he was. Just to slide what he could on to that sheet, it was probably the most determined thing he had ever done.
Even so, half way through he absolutely lost it before emitting a hoarse and unexpected grunt of frustration through gritted teeth, before repeating rapping a balled fist against his skull in frustration. He got blood on him without meaning to, it was the type of thing that stated to wear into his mind; most sane people would probably have urged him to stop long ago. Those blows weren’t punishing, his body resisted in order to preserve itself after all, but the action reflected his desires.
A voice echoes from Corin's collar: "Unnecessary. Girls on various mediums already find this subject adorable without self-inflicted destruction of mental functions."
He stopped abruptly, he was too caught up in his mental fit to expect the interruption, his body jolted like he was just waking up and he raised his head despite the fact that no one was standing in front of him. It looked as though he half expected someone to be, but the expression of realisation soon crossed his features as he looked down at his collar. He slumped to his knees and he placed his dirty hands on them, looking mentally beaten.
He remembered Toby was there at his station then.
But he didn’t respond, not for a long time, there was only uncomfortable silence as he looked distantly around and groaned.
“Okay, okay, okay…” He muttered eventually in chant, maybe in response to Toby, or perhaps simply to collect himself.
“I need to finish up… is all.” He continued to mutter under his breath.
He got back onto his feet slowly, hesitantly even. But the thing that really mattered was that he managed to do it, crack his mind back into the place. Even if it wasn’t going to be exactly as it had once been.
He set into motion again, this time he was almost violent with his movements as he finished sliding Anzu onto that blanket, leaving her supine. The longer he spent there, the more haphazard and speedy his actions became until he was finally just piling her things on top of her so it would just be done.
He hurried to tape her up in the silvery sheet, it didn’t matter that her feet stuck out. It just mattered that she and her belongings stayed out of Ana’s disgusting palms.
He’d make sure of it one way or another.
He gathered his things, his weapon, and tracked blood across the casino floor as he left Anzu behind up there; he offered the last bit of protection he could possibly give, along with the little food and supplies he wanted to spare. He knew that it was too late for those kinds of gestures, thought so as he discarded his gloves over the stair railings.
Back to being lost without an anchor.
-
Lord_Shadow
- Posts: 536
- Joined: Thu Aug 09, 2018 2:43 am
- Team Affiliation: Emmy's Selkies
She glanced around at her surroundings. This part of the casino was just empty. Devoid of any sign of life. It was eerie, how empty it was. She frowned.
"Disgusting. That anyone ever did anything here, is just disgusting. This entire resort is just begging to be destroyed. Every little annoying thing here mocking me with how fragile it all is. And the people left here aren't any better."
She went over and kicked over the stools by the slot machines. They scattered and rolled away before her.
"People had fun here? No. I refuse to acknowledge that. This place needs to be remembered for what it really is, a site of pain and suffering. I won't let anyone remember it as anything else. Everyone left in this game will know beyond a shadow of a doubt that pain, misery, and despair fill this entire place. And when it fills their very souls then will I send them on their way to meet the dead. And when no one is left alive this place will burn. All of it, become nothing more than ash."
She laughed.
"No one will get what they want. Everyone is just gonna die a pointless death, and the whole world will wonder what went wrong."
"Disgusting. That anyone ever did anything here, is just disgusting. This entire resort is just begging to be destroyed. Every little annoying thing here mocking me with how fragile it all is. And the people left here aren't any better."
She went over and kicked over the stools by the slot machines. They scattered and rolled away before her.
"People had fun here? No. I refuse to acknowledge that. This place needs to be remembered for what it really is, a site of pain and suffering. I won't let anyone remember it as anything else. Everyone left in this game will know beyond a shadow of a doubt that pain, misery, and despair fill this entire place. And when it fills their very souls then will I send them on their way to meet the dead. And when no one is left alive this place will burn. All of it, become nothing more than ash."
She laughed.
"No one will get what they want. Everyone is just gonna die a pointless death, and the whole world will wonder what went wrong."
There was once a dumb psuedo-news line here. Now there's this pretentious nonsense. YOU1 DID THIS, YOU1 KNOW WHO YOU1 ARE!
1. Yeah you, you nefarious ne'er-do-well you.
1. Yeah you, you nefarious ne'er-do-well you.
-
General Goose
- Posts: 318
- Joined: Thu Aug 09, 2018 2:51 pm
He was silent.
That was the best word for it.
He'd found some whiskey, and a few glasses, and had set them up around a table, almost as if he was having friends over. He took a sip.
Empty, that worked too.
You probably wish there was more to say, more to think about, but Yagmur was, for a brief moment, quiet, nothing stirring inside him, no obvious emotions, nothing.
He took another sip.
That was the best word for it.
He'd found some whiskey, and a few glasses, and had set them up around a table, almost as if he was having friends over. He took a sip.
Empty, that worked too.
You probably wish there was more to say, more to think about, but Yagmur was, for a brief moment, quiet, nothing stirring inside him, no obvious emotions, nothing.
He took another sip.
He felt ill, discomforted as the blood around his temples started to dry, clumping strands of hair together. The scent lingered in his peripherals, giving him a feeling of nausea as he haunted the space of the casino. He was yearning for many things, immediate things like somewhere he would be able to clean and less attainable things that could only have been provided by people long gone. Memories hung, disoriented and among other things that molested the fringe of his mind.
He wondered where she was mostly, motivated not by a real wanting or need, but through a rough feeling of odium. It was what he could best clasp on to, the rawest emotion that roiled in the mix; it started to push him, like an effector put into motion by thoughts and desires long overdue.
It drowned the rest before he could be pulled down.
It was by chance that he encountered the other person who’d also triggered everything that occurred that day, by his random walking it could have easily been her.
He didn’t choose to approach from the side or back, but from the front. A poor decision, when a forward choice had been so long overdue, and more appreciated at other times. He had thought that this would have been a simple confrontation, if it could be considered thought at all.
Outwardly he appeared grim, somehow aged some and frayed. But it was a look he’d started to see on everyone for some time. He could see it on him too, in front of him as he stepped forward. He anticipated an action, quick and brutal, succinct violence with a clear resolution.
It didn’t happen, as the sound of his steps slowly stopped before the quiet slunk back.
It didn’t happen.
He hated that it didn’t happen.
He wondered where she was mostly, motivated not by a real wanting or need, but through a rough feeling of odium. It was what he could best clasp on to, the rawest emotion that roiled in the mix; it started to push him, like an effector put into motion by thoughts and desires long overdue.
It drowned the rest before he could be pulled down.
It was by chance that he encountered the other person who’d also triggered everything that occurred that day, by his random walking it could have easily been her.
He didn’t choose to approach from the side or back, but from the front. A poor decision, when a forward choice had been so long overdue, and more appreciated at other times. He had thought that this would have been a simple confrontation, if it could be considered thought at all.
Outwardly he appeared grim, somehow aged some and frayed. But it was a look he’d started to see on everyone for some time. He could see it on him too, in front of him as he stepped forward. He anticipated an action, quick and brutal, succinct violence with a clear resolution.
It didn’t happen, as the sound of his steps slowly stopped before the quiet slunk back.
It didn’t happen.
He hated that it didn’t happen.
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General Goose
- Posts: 318
- Joined: Thu Aug 09, 2018 2:51 pm
He looked up.
Corin was approaching him. From the front. No attempt at duplicity or sneakiness, or slyly making his way through the fruit machines and getting a shot at Yagmur in his moment of despair-induced, alcohol-enhanced vulnerability. Yagmur respected that level of forthrightness and candour, especially considering how dire their situations both were and that the risks involved in such simple acts of honesty bordered on suicidal tendencies or stupidity.
He respected that.
They'd still probably end up having to kill each other.
Corin probably knew that too, so he left it unspoken. No need to dwell on that unnerving probability.
Guy looked as broken and exhausted as Yagmur felt.
He probably was.
He couldn't blame him. He wanted to, though. He wanted to be angry, to throw him to the floor, in an act of cathartic vigilante justice. That's what a survivor would do.
He looked at Corin, and pulled a bar-stool out from behind the bar, so it was in his vision. "You can have some, if you want," he said, indicating to the whiskey, pouring him a glass - a single, Corin didn't look like they had the fortitude to have a double and there was no problem with that and he could always ask for more - without waiting for an answer. "I know we're both too young, legally, but we're old enough to kill and maim and have sex on TV and whatever for their entertainment, so we're old enough to get drunk for our entertainment."
He decided to cut the bullshit, and get to the point. "You were with Anzu, right? And you shot Bella, didn't you?"
Corin was approaching him. From the front. No attempt at duplicity or sneakiness, or slyly making his way through the fruit machines and getting a shot at Yagmur in his moment of despair-induced, alcohol-enhanced vulnerability. Yagmur respected that level of forthrightness and candour, especially considering how dire their situations both were and that the risks involved in such simple acts of honesty bordered on suicidal tendencies or stupidity.
He respected that.
They'd still probably end up having to kill each other.
Corin probably knew that too, so he left it unspoken. No need to dwell on that unnerving probability.
Guy looked as broken and exhausted as Yagmur felt.
He probably was.
He couldn't blame him. He wanted to, though. He wanted to be angry, to throw him to the floor, in an act of cathartic vigilante justice. That's what a survivor would do.
He looked at Corin, and pulled a bar-stool out from behind the bar, so it was in his vision. "You can have some, if you want," he said, indicating to the whiskey, pouring him a glass - a single, Corin didn't look like they had the fortitude to have a double and there was no problem with that and he could always ask for more - without waiting for an answer. "I know we're both too young, legally, but we're old enough to kill and maim and have sex on TV and whatever for their entertainment, so we're old enough to get drunk for our entertainment."
He decided to cut the bullshit, and get to the point. "You were with Anzu, right? And you shot Bella, didn't you?"
He didn’t want to accept anything from Yagmur; it wasn’t like he could hide his expression of hatred either. His face was honesty, without the capacity to mask it. He eyed the glass, the alcohol and disregarded it without any consideration. Not now, even then he just didn’t have the taste for the bottle. It wasn’t like he craved it, his mouth felt as dirty as his hands and hair. He’d lost the drive to consume anything so recently. He lifted a hand, indicating that he would pass on the offer.
He wondered if Yagmur was sizing him down like he was doing to him. There were things that he left unspoken, and they both had a sense, better tuned into what was appropriate than some others. Even if it was vague, they understood each other that much without saying.
“Yes.” He replied tersely.
“I did.” He looked at Yagmur with a bit of challenge in his eyes.
Take the bait, he urged silently.
“I know you killed Anzu too.” His words were tense, serrated.
He could have lifted his rifle then, and in his mind he did. But his arms stayed limp and useless as he spoke. He could have had Yagmur on the ground, coughing up bloody pink bubbly sputum, air sucking into the hole that was where his lung was, and he knew that Yagmur had just about equal opportunity. Maybe there was an alternative line of time where they did, it could have easily broken down then and swayed in the favour of either. Either way the coin flipped, someone would have seen it as justified.
Only, on Corin’s end it probably wasn’t. Because of the fact that there was a tinge of relief, the idea that the burden of shooting his teammate was lifted off his shoulders. He wasn’t sure if he’d have done it to preserve his own life, but at least this way he could pretend not.
No one would ever know.
He took another stool, and sat down, a seat of his own choosing. He stared at him intently, raw confused emotion under the surface of his eyes.
“So look me in the eyes, you bastard.” He muttered, seething words that were difficult to catch. It was almost like Corin was muttering to himself; he easily could have neglected to filter the words.
The lack of any satisfying response almost physically hurt.
He just wanted to watch Yagmur grieve, fight, kick, just wanted to watch him burn and grind into the ground until there was nothing left.
The more he stuck around, the more he realised that Yagmur wasn’t that type of guy.
It was slowly killing him that he didn’t hurt the same way that Corin did.
Stop being better at this than me, you fuck.
Kill me already.
But then a look of delayed recognition crossed Corin’s features, followed by a sincere question.
“She, Bella, was the girl who killed Paisley, right?”
He was still unhappy.
He was sick of Paisley’s shadow.
He wondered if Yagmur was sizing him down like he was doing to him. There were things that he left unspoken, and they both had a sense, better tuned into what was appropriate than some others. Even if it was vague, they understood each other that much without saying.
“Yes.” He replied tersely.
“I did.” He looked at Yagmur with a bit of challenge in his eyes.
Take the bait, he urged silently.
“I know you killed Anzu too.” His words were tense, serrated.
He could have lifted his rifle then, and in his mind he did. But his arms stayed limp and useless as he spoke. He could have had Yagmur on the ground, coughing up bloody pink bubbly sputum, air sucking into the hole that was where his lung was, and he knew that Yagmur had just about equal opportunity. Maybe there was an alternative line of time where they did, it could have easily broken down then and swayed in the favour of either. Either way the coin flipped, someone would have seen it as justified.
Only, on Corin’s end it probably wasn’t. Because of the fact that there was a tinge of relief, the idea that the burden of shooting his teammate was lifted off his shoulders. He wasn’t sure if he’d have done it to preserve his own life, but at least this way he could pretend not.
No one would ever know.
He took another stool, and sat down, a seat of his own choosing. He stared at him intently, raw confused emotion under the surface of his eyes.
“So look me in the eyes, you bastard.” He muttered, seething words that were difficult to catch. It was almost like Corin was muttering to himself; he easily could have neglected to filter the words.
The lack of any satisfying response almost physically hurt.
He just wanted to watch Yagmur grieve, fight, kick, just wanted to watch him burn and grind into the ground until there was nothing left.
The more he stuck around, the more he realised that Yagmur wasn’t that type of guy.
It was slowly killing him that he didn’t hurt the same way that Corin did.
Stop being better at this than me, you fuck.
Kill me already.
But then a look of delayed recognition crossed Corin’s features, followed by a sincere question.
“She, Bella, was the girl who killed Paisley, right?”
He was still unhappy.
He was sick of Paisley’s shadow.
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General Goose
- Posts: 318
- Joined: Thu Aug 09, 2018 2:51 pm
A bolder Yagmur, more confident in his independence and more characteristic in his personality, would have refused any impolite demand to make eye contact. Anyone so rudely demanding of it did not deserve that privilege, he would have said in a forced monotone.
But he wasn't bold. He was meek, and scared, and tired.
So he looked into Corin's eyes.
"Anzu...I'm sorry, she didn't deserve it, she hadn't done anything," he said, hoping his tone would communicate the rest. He didn't want to spill his heart out yet again, especially given the circumstances, so he hoped his tone would be sufficient to convey the full story. Yagmur's guilt, Yagmur's sadness, how he felt that Anzu had deserved to live longer than him.
Corin would know enough circumstantial information to work out he had been the intended target. For killing Bella.
"And yes. She did. I let my guard down, and Paisley attacked Regina, and Bella...had to do it. It was fucked up. But that's our situation right now."
He finished his glass, and moved onto Corin's.
But he wasn't bold. He was meek, and scared, and tired.
So he looked into Corin's eyes.
"Anzu...I'm sorry, she didn't deserve it, she hadn't done anything," he said, hoping his tone would communicate the rest. He didn't want to spill his heart out yet again, especially given the circumstances, so he hoped his tone would be sufficient to convey the full story. Yagmur's guilt, Yagmur's sadness, how he felt that Anzu had deserved to live longer than him.
Corin would know enough circumstantial information to work out he had been the intended target. For killing Bella.
"And yes. She did. I let my guard down, and Paisley attacked Regina, and Bella...had to do it. It was fucked up. But that's our situation right now."
He finished his glass, and moved onto Corin's.
He wanted to laugh, but all that came out from his throat was a mirthless exhale, curdled with displeasure as it made its way out.
He was troubled.
He didn’t want the explanation, to know the circumstances surrounding Paisley. He’d barely ever known Regina; he hardly cared about what was necessary or whether Paisley could have been stopped. All he had actually wanted was a yes or a no, and that was all. The explanation didn’t change his feelings about killing Bella, the contempt, the upset, and he had a feeling that Yagmur could tell. He just didn’t bother saying it, that discussion wasn’t needed at this point. Knowing Bella had killed Pasiley didn’t feel like a consolation prize in the long run.
He’d of liked to pretend that Paisley was just a victim, but he couldn’t fully disbelieve him.
He examined Yagmur’s eyes from where he sat, trying to read him, his eyes only straying away to track the movement as he reached for his glass.
He could find one little shred of sympathy for that face, but only because he’d known that expression for so long. That expression was one of his, but he didn’t recognise where it was from exactly, just that it was familiar.
He broke into a wry smile.
Complex feelings, thoughts of Yagmur and Vahka in school and how in that setting Yagmur was such a different guy. He’d been on the fringe of that circle back then, and it felt so long ago since things had changed. How Corin had never let on that he’d longed for inclusion, how he’d hardly ever spoke to them. It was a simple fact that he had missed out on the opportunity to become close to those two.
“How fucked.” He spoke to himself.
It was a good thing, it made hating Yagmur so much easier.
He brought a hand to his head, running his fingers through his hair; crusted blood flaked out onto his shoulders. He wanted to vomit so badly, he wanted to rest, and even though he was just sitting here the situation was taking it out of him. His nerves felt like a knife.
“You’re right though, Anzu didn’t deserve a thing. She hurt no one.” He didn’t recall if she had killed anymore, and didn’t care as long as Yagmur didn’t correct him.
“She didn’t deserve what Ana did to her after that either.” He divulged, just wanting to spill that on Yagmur, wanting to see if he really gave a peanut covered shit about Anzu by judging his reaction.
He wondered why he was entertaining him though; they weren’t going to become friends.
They mutually assured that.
“Did you see her?”
He was troubled.
He didn’t want the explanation, to know the circumstances surrounding Paisley. He’d barely ever known Regina; he hardly cared about what was necessary or whether Paisley could have been stopped. All he had actually wanted was a yes or a no, and that was all. The explanation didn’t change his feelings about killing Bella, the contempt, the upset, and he had a feeling that Yagmur could tell. He just didn’t bother saying it, that discussion wasn’t needed at this point. Knowing Bella had killed Pasiley didn’t feel like a consolation prize in the long run.
He’d of liked to pretend that Paisley was just a victim, but he couldn’t fully disbelieve him.
He examined Yagmur’s eyes from where he sat, trying to read him, his eyes only straying away to track the movement as he reached for his glass.
He could find one little shred of sympathy for that face, but only because he’d known that expression for so long. That expression was one of his, but he didn’t recognise where it was from exactly, just that it was familiar.
He broke into a wry smile.
Complex feelings, thoughts of Yagmur and Vahka in school and how in that setting Yagmur was such a different guy. He’d been on the fringe of that circle back then, and it felt so long ago since things had changed. How Corin had never let on that he’d longed for inclusion, how he’d hardly ever spoke to them. It was a simple fact that he had missed out on the opportunity to become close to those two.
“How fucked.” He spoke to himself.
It was a good thing, it made hating Yagmur so much easier.
He brought a hand to his head, running his fingers through his hair; crusted blood flaked out onto his shoulders. He wanted to vomit so badly, he wanted to rest, and even though he was just sitting here the situation was taking it out of him. His nerves felt like a knife.
“You’re right though, Anzu didn’t deserve a thing. She hurt no one.” He didn’t recall if she had killed anymore, and didn’t care as long as Yagmur didn’t correct him.
“She didn’t deserve what Ana did to her after that either.” He divulged, just wanting to spill that on Yagmur, wanting to see if he really gave a peanut covered shit about Anzu by judging his reaction.
He wondered why he was entertaining him though; they weren’t going to become friends.
They mutually assured that.
“Did you see her?”
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Lord_Shadow
- Posts: 536
- Joined: Thu Aug 09, 2018 2:43 am
- Team Affiliation: Emmy's Selkies
"What are my options? I can be reckless, maybe try and rush down one of the boys. Get shot for my troubles and accomplish nothing. Subterfuge is out, neither of them trust me at all and both know I'm not stable. That leaves little to work with." She paced back and forth.
"A truce? More likely they'd kill me and then each other. What I need is another perspective. Another person to latch onto. Someone who doesn't know me and has no reason to attack. How many people like that are left, I wonder?"
She drew her blade.
"You need blood. I hate it, but I need some too. Soon. Very soon, the last pools of blood will form from the bodies of the dead. And then we can both sleep. Forever. Dream of a better, truer, realer world. A world of no falsehood. A world where you and I have no reason to exist."
She gently ran her hand over the flat of the blade.
"For now, rest. We'll do our jobs soon."
"A truce? More likely they'd kill me and then each other. What I need is another perspective. Another person to latch onto. Someone who doesn't know me and has no reason to attack. How many people like that are left, I wonder?"
She drew her blade.
"You need blood. I hate it, but I need some too. Soon. Very soon, the last pools of blood will form from the bodies of the dead. And then we can both sleep. Forever. Dream of a better, truer, realer world. A world of no falsehood. A world where you and I have no reason to exist."
She gently ran her hand over the flat of the blade.
"For now, rest. We'll do our jobs soon."
There was once a dumb psuedo-news line here. Now there's this pretentious nonsense. YOU1 DID THIS, YOU1 KNOW WHO YOU1 ARE!
1. Yeah you, you nefarious ne'er-do-well you.
1. Yeah you, you nefarious ne'er-do-well you.
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General Goose
- Posts: 318
- Joined: Thu Aug 09, 2018 2:51 pm
Yagmur had nothing nice to say about Ana.
She was clearly sick, and disturbed, her empathy and social acceptability having, at the very most, died in the early stages of her time on the resort. And he knew he couldn't blame her for that. She didn't deserve that. It was factors beyond her control, injustices beyond her own, that had forced that upon her.
But she didn't deserve to make it out. Her disturbing attitude, her callous lack of compassion towards Bella in her final moments, her incoherent worldview detached from any reality. She was exactly the sort of person who didn't deserve to and shouldn't return to the real world, especially above more disturbing people.
Yagmur was judging her on first impressions, certainly a less than credible method for determining her worth. He didn't care.
"No. What did she do?" he asked. He didn't really want to know. It couldn't be worse than what he had done. He'd left Anzu lifeless, without any feeling, basically an inanimate object. All Ana could have done was rub salt into a wound he'd created. And salt-rubbing without a wound was at worst, weird, and at best some sort of exotic massage.
But he found himself asking anyway. Maybe it'd be useful to build a shared sense of injustice, a shared belief that Ana shouldn't be the one to have the luxury of going home, with this Corin guy that he realised he no longer really knew. Maybe base an affinity, a mutual respect, on that, when nothing else, not even their ostensibly shared memories of Whittree, would suffice. Maybe that'd get them through a few more hours.
But maybe he was asking because he wanted to know his hatred for Ana was justified. That the broken clock that was his mind was right for the first time that day.
She was clearly sick, and disturbed, her empathy and social acceptability having, at the very most, died in the early stages of her time on the resort. And he knew he couldn't blame her for that. She didn't deserve that. It was factors beyond her control, injustices beyond her own, that had forced that upon her.
But she didn't deserve to make it out. Her disturbing attitude, her callous lack of compassion towards Bella in her final moments, her incoherent worldview detached from any reality. She was exactly the sort of person who didn't deserve to and shouldn't return to the real world, especially above more disturbing people.
Yagmur was judging her on first impressions, certainly a less than credible method for determining her worth. He didn't care.
"No. What did she do?" he asked. He didn't really want to know. It couldn't be worse than what he had done. He'd left Anzu lifeless, without any feeling, basically an inanimate object. All Ana could have done was rub salt into a wound he'd created. And salt-rubbing without a wound was at worst, weird, and at best some sort of exotic massage.
But he found himself asking anyway. Maybe it'd be useful to build a shared sense of injustice, a shared belief that Ana shouldn't be the one to have the luxury of going home, with this Corin guy that he realised he no longer really knew. Maybe base an affinity, a mutual respect, on that, when nothing else, not even their ostensibly shared memories of Whittree, would suffice. Maybe that'd get them through a few more hours.
But maybe he was asking because he wanted to know his hatred for Ana was justified. That the broken clock that was his mind was right for the first time that day.
Corin tilted his head slightly towards Yagmur as he tried to explain, and for a moment nothing past the sound of him sucking his teeth escaped him. His eye contact finally broke, as his expression shifted to disgust and his dark brown eyes turned upwards in remembrance of the events that had unfolded.
“After you left her, I came back and Ana was sitting over her.”
His eyes turned back to Yagmur, for a moment his eyes seemed to hold blame for him, though they quickly turned down to Corin’s sleeves. He turned them over, there was more blood on that side, and he wanted to burn that jacket. He would soon, he decided.
It seemed so retarded to Corin, to just explain what had happened, because he never thought in his life that he’d be in this position. That nothing was normal anymore, that he’d be so out of his depth. His knees started to shake now. It was because he was cold, tired, angry and weary. But at the least he was sucking up his fear, just to deal with this one guy. He wished he had the strength to do it sooner.
But he wished for a lot of things, some of them terrible things, and they never came true before.
Even now, it wasn’t strength, just abandon.
“She was drinking her blood, or playing in it.” He mentioned, whilst placing a hand on a knee to quell the shaking.
“She’s retarded, and I just couldn’t ignore her.” He added, as the volume of his voice raised a pitch, hateful.
“So I hit her, I just wanted to kill her.” He didn’t know how to express it, how cathartic it was for that split second where he’d just swung. Until the impact resonated off his rifle and then it twisted into something that made him feel guilty. But then again, he didn’t want to let Yagmur peer too closely into that aching sore, he didn’t need to let him know everything.
“It’s my fault, I could have shot her before, but I let her go.”
Culpa mea, he didn’t know how many times he’d had to think that phrase. He’d lost count, more than once with Anarchy, far too many times with everyone all around. And he’d just wasted his chances to cut his problems off with Yagmur, but he had no one else to apologise to anymore for that, just himself. Never again, he wanted to promise himself, but he knew how empty that was.
“At the least, I tried to make sure Anzu’s body would stay out of her hands.” He let out a ragged sigh, and peered at Yagmur’s face again.
He was no longer able to stand this atmosphere. Talking to him, pretending that they had anything to offer each other, as far as he knew at least. Anything to offer beyond bullets, he had no idea. He was done explaining for Yagmur. This was just burning time and he started to think about leaving.
“After you left her, I came back and Ana was sitting over her.”
His eyes turned back to Yagmur, for a moment his eyes seemed to hold blame for him, though they quickly turned down to Corin’s sleeves. He turned them over, there was more blood on that side, and he wanted to burn that jacket. He would soon, he decided.
It seemed so retarded to Corin, to just explain what had happened, because he never thought in his life that he’d be in this position. That nothing was normal anymore, that he’d be so out of his depth. His knees started to shake now. It was because he was cold, tired, angry and weary. But at the least he was sucking up his fear, just to deal with this one guy. He wished he had the strength to do it sooner.
But he wished for a lot of things, some of them terrible things, and they never came true before.
Even now, it wasn’t strength, just abandon.
“She was drinking her blood, or playing in it.” He mentioned, whilst placing a hand on a knee to quell the shaking.
“She’s retarded, and I just couldn’t ignore her.” He added, as the volume of his voice raised a pitch, hateful.
“So I hit her, I just wanted to kill her.” He didn’t know how to express it, how cathartic it was for that split second where he’d just swung. Until the impact resonated off his rifle and then it twisted into something that made him feel guilty. But then again, he didn’t want to let Yagmur peer too closely into that aching sore, he didn’t need to let him know everything.
“It’s my fault, I could have shot her before, but I let her go.”
Culpa mea, he didn’t know how many times he’d had to think that phrase. He’d lost count, more than once with Anarchy, far too many times with everyone all around. And he’d just wasted his chances to cut his problems off with Yagmur, but he had no one else to apologise to anymore for that, just himself. Never again, he wanted to promise himself, but he knew how empty that was.
“At the least, I tried to make sure Anzu’s body would stay out of her hands.” He let out a ragged sigh, and peered at Yagmur’s face again.
He was no longer able to stand this atmosphere. Talking to him, pretending that they had anything to offer each other, as far as he knew at least. Anything to offer beyond bullets, he had no idea. He was done explaining for Yagmur. This was just burning time and he started to think about leaving.