((In collaboration with Maroone. Any GMing approved.))
AnArchy looked her over, taking in the sight. She looked down at her own self and at her ruined dress. The contrast was obvious. Yet they were so similar, in a way. "Now where's the fun in that?" She said with a smile. She looked at the fresh wound. "Chances are you'll die no matter what I do. So why not make your last moments memorable?" She giggled a bit, delighted with herself. Her eyes lingered on the form of the girl before her. How beautiful she was in her wretched state. Scared, alone, hopeless.
She wanted nothing more than to share how much she understood those feelings. The irony was she displayed none of those herself anymore.
"Cause," Cathryn said, "you don't deserve it." Cathryn wasn't looking at Ana but at the ground when she said that.
"Maybe not," Ana grinned "but the fact is that I have a say in this too. And I want it to be fun for us!" She enunciated every word of her last sentence. She slashed with the blade with the last word, between the two of them.
"Because otherwise it'll just be fun for me alone. Not so much for you."
Cathryn didn't answer for a rather long time. After a while, she said, "Even if you throw me a party before you kill me, I won't be having much fun." She picked her head up a bit, but still avoided looking at Ana. "At least, not the way this is going."
"I could cut you up. Make you scream. Fill you with pain." Ana smiled. "Do you want me to? Do ya? Or do you wanna try taking a shot at me? Maybe you can before I cut your arm to ribbons." The smile grew wider. This game was fun. Poor girl just wanted something to happen. For this torture to end, and Ana would deny her everything but the uncertainty.
Fun! Fun fun fun! FUN!
Production Costs
-
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.
“I already know.” Corin was quick to respond, his mind not too sunken into the task of working his bandages. His effort should plug the leak for now, though the scent of blood on him was overwhelming and every moment passed with discomfort. His nose crinkled, as he layered the jacket back on him, patting what hid in the pocket subtly to assure himself it was still there.
“If I wanted to escape I would have jumped off the sunshine tower a long time ago.” His voice clogs in his throat a little, he meant it to come out matter of fact, but in the end the thought bothered him. Even if he thought about killing himself, even if he put a barrel in his mouth, he wasn’t sure if any degree of loss could to actually trigger him to go through with it.
Though he pictured it more times than he could count.
“None of us here today had the guts to not play.” His lips thinned, as he eyed Yagmur.
“It’s too late to bother fantasizing.” He said morosely as his eyes shifted to make eye contact, probably for too long a length of time to be considered comfortable for either party.
“If I wanted to escape I would have jumped off the sunshine tower a long time ago.” His voice clogs in his throat a little, he meant it to come out matter of fact, but in the end the thought bothered him. Even if he thought about killing himself, even if he put a barrel in his mouth, he wasn’t sure if any degree of loss could to actually trigger him to go through with it.
Though he pictured it more times than he could count.
“None of us here today had the guts to not play.” His lips thinned, as he eyed Yagmur.
“It’s too late to bother fantasizing.” He said morosely as his eyes shifted to make eye contact, probably for too long a length of time to be considered comfortable for either party.
((Also in collaboration with Lord_Shadow. GMing approved.))
Cathryn tried to avoid looking at Ana again. Tried to deny this bitch any right to savor in her fear, to look on as Cathryn squirmed and writhed and bled all over the floor. One last game for her, one last 'fuck you'.
She failed.
In any other circumstance, any other place, she would've laughed in Ana's face, mocked her for all that talk about cutting into her, making her scream with pain, and all that bullshit. It would take too long, and Cathryn would be able to fight back, get her comeuppance in no time.
Would.
But two or three paces away from Cathryn was death, death in the form of some bitch ranting about pain and games. Not a dignified death. Before she could even get up, she'd be cut into pieces, probably while Ana laughed. All she could do, as much as she hated it, was look into Ana's face. And then Cathryn realized that she'd failed in many, many other ways.
In Ana's eyes lied a type of deranged authenticity about everything she said. Some sinister glimmer that told Cathryn that she meant every single word, that she would do it, and that she knew Cathryn probably couldn't do anything about it. What she couldn't find in those eyes was fear. Hesitation. Any sign that Ana had once been a human. She'd done what Cathryn had been striving for the entire game. She'd become a villain.
Cathryn looked down, and bit her lip at the thought of this, hard enough for her to bleed, in fact. Failure.
But then it came.
No.
She smiled, just a little.
Jackson, does this all look familiar to you?
She stopped smiling, looked up at Ana, and chirped, "You know, I just remembered something. Up until the announcements just earlier, I hadn't heard of your name, and I think I know why. Even though we've been in this game for days already, I'd be your first, right? First blood?"
And there it was. Ana scowled. Cathryn had found the chink in her armor. She could do this. She smiled once more.
"I may not have killed but I've definitely done some shit," Ana replied. "What's murder compared to hemoerotic cannibalism right?"
It took a few seconds for those last couple of big words to register in Cathryn's mind. Hemoerotic cannibalism. Alien words. But once the meaning of it did register, once she realized that Ana was talking about drinking the blood of a dead person, Cathryn's eyes widened, and her smile went away.
Ana continued. This time, she was the one smiling.
"You know, speaking of firsts, I never quite got to go all the way with my BF. Regret that, maybe a girl might make up for it."
And this is how it could end, Ana claimed. No final gunfight, no dramatic fall from a balcony, just a whimper and possibly rape. How it could end.
She tried to escape, backed up against the walls. But no respite to be found there. She started to laugh, laugh while tears and blood dropped down her cheeks.
Again, no.
She forced herself to laugh louder, and louder, until she was almost cackling at Ana, at herself, at all this. The wound in her cheek tore a bit, but she continued to cackle for as long as she could. Then, it subsided, and Cathryn, with tears still dropping from her cheeks, looked at Ana.
"Oh god. Oh god..."
She tried to catch her breath, and looked down, a bit to the right, where she noticed something very important.
Yes, Jackson, this is all very familiar.
The gun lay next to her on her right side. Perfect. She looked at Ana and, as discreetly as possible, got the gun with her right hand, her good hand. She made sure not to point it at Ana. Not yet. Then, she acted.
Cathryn said, "As fucked up as that sounds, you're... you're still dealing with dead people there. A corpse can't do anything if you want to fuck it or eat it or whatever."
Her body, being screwed with, fucked with, fucked, after she died. All she'd be reduced to, Ana's little toy.
A sob escaped from her throat, but she wiped away the tears with her left hand. Her broken, crooked hand. Another shattered part of her. Her hand's nerves were set on fire anew. She whimpered a little, and then stared at Ana again. She could do this. Just a few more seconds. Remember, no.
"Still child's play, in a way. You, you haven't tried choking, ripping the life out of someone yet. You haven't tried holding a girl down for seconds, minutes, maybe even hours. You're good at playing the psycho, you really are. Licking a dead person's blood is fucking dedication. But you still haven't gotten a single person. Not one." Cathryn grinned with the left side of her face as she said these last words.
Try me, Ana.
Cathryn tried to avoid looking at Ana again. Tried to deny this bitch any right to savor in her fear, to look on as Cathryn squirmed and writhed and bled all over the floor. One last game for her, one last 'fuck you'.
She failed.
In any other circumstance, any other place, she would've laughed in Ana's face, mocked her for all that talk about cutting into her, making her scream with pain, and all that bullshit. It would take too long, and Cathryn would be able to fight back, get her comeuppance in no time.
Would.
But two or three paces away from Cathryn was death, death in the form of some bitch ranting about pain and games. Not a dignified death. Before she could even get up, she'd be cut into pieces, probably while Ana laughed. All she could do, as much as she hated it, was look into Ana's face. And then Cathryn realized that she'd failed in many, many other ways.
In Ana's eyes lied a type of deranged authenticity about everything she said. Some sinister glimmer that told Cathryn that she meant every single word, that she would do it, and that she knew Cathryn probably couldn't do anything about it. What she couldn't find in those eyes was fear. Hesitation. Any sign that Ana had once been a human. She'd done what Cathryn had been striving for the entire game. She'd become a villain.
Cathryn looked down, and bit her lip at the thought of this, hard enough for her to bleed, in fact. Failure.
But then it came.
No.
She smiled, just a little.
Jackson, does this all look familiar to you?
She stopped smiling, looked up at Ana, and chirped, "You know, I just remembered something. Up until the announcements just earlier, I hadn't heard of your name, and I think I know why. Even though we've been in this game for days already, I'd be your first, right? First blood?"
And there it was. Ana scowled. Cathryn had found the chink in her armor. She could do this. She smiled once more.
"I may not have killed but I've definitely done some shit," Ana replied. "What's murder compared to hemoerotic cannibalism right?"
It took a few seconds for those last couple of big words to register in Cathryn's mind. Hemoerotic cannibalism. Alien words. But once the meaning of it did register, once she realized that Ana was talking about drinking the blood of a dead person, Cathryn's eyes widened, and her smile went away.
Ana continued. This time, she was the one smiling.
"You know, speaking of firsts, I never quite got to go all the way with my BF. Regret that, maybe a girl might make up for it."
And this is how it could end, Ana claimed. No final gunfight, no dramatic fall from a balcony, just a whimper and possibly rape. How it could end.
She tried to escape, backed up against the walls. But no respite to be found there. She started to laugh, laugh while tears and blood dropped down her cheeks.
Again, no.
She forced herself to laugh louder, and louder, until she was almost cackling at Ana, at herself, at all this. The wound in her cheek tore a bit, but she continued to cackle for as long as she could. Then, it subsided, and Cathryn, with tears still dropping from her cheeks, looked at Ana.
"Oh god. Oh god..."
She tried to catch her breath, and looked down, a bit to the right, where she noticed something very important.
Yes, Jackson, this is all very familiar.
The gun lay next to her on her right side. Perfect. She looked at Ana and, as discreetly as possible, got the gun with her right hand, her good hand. She made sure not to point it at Ana. Not yet. Then, she acted.
Cathryn said, "As fucked up as that sounds, you're... you're still dealing with dead people there. A corpse can't do anything if you want to fuck it or eat it or whatever."
Her body, being screwed with, fucked with, fucked, after she died. All she'd be reduced to, Ana's little toy.
A sob escaped from her throat, but she wiped away the tears with her left hand. Her broken, crooked hand. Another shattered part of her. Her hand's nerves were set on fire anew. She whimpered a little, and then stared at Ana again. She could do this. Just a few more seconds. Remember, no.
"Still child's play, in a way. You, you haven't tried choking, ripping the life out of someone yet. You haven't tried holding a girl down for seconds, minutes, maybe even hours. You're good at playing the psycho, you really are. Licking a dead person's blood is fucking dedication. But you still haven't gotten a single person. Not one." Cathryn grinned with the left side of her face as she said these last words.
Try me, Ana.
SC3:
Matias Juarez is fed up. He is currently walking home.
Pregame: now that you are broken by the seas, in the depths of the waters,
Memories: Vamô Detonar essa Porra!
Diego Larrosa is lost. pls give my kids friends tv3 version
Stephanie's Cuckaneers Today at 12:29 AM
maraoone was a mistake - cicada 2021
Matias Juarez is fed up. He is currently walking home.
Pregame: now that you are broken by the seas, in the depths of the waters,
Memories: Vamô Detonar essa Porra!
Diego Larrosa is lost. pls give my kids friends tv3 version
Stephanie's Cuckaneers Today at 12:29 AM
maraoone was a mistake - cicada 2021
-
Lord_Shadow
- Posts: 536
- Joined: Thu Aug 09, 2018 2:43 am
- Team Affiliation: Emmy's Selkies
Defiance. Even at death's door this stupid girl dared to mock the one person who could make her passing hell. It made Ana's blood boil. Another scowl escaped her barrier. It quickly passed and her expression became neutral.
She took it all in. All the words the person before her had said stirred in her mind. The audacity of it all, to be like that now of all times. She mulled it over in her mind. She came to her conclusion. "You're right. You're absolutely right. I have been playing around." She smiled. Her eyes wandered over the frightened form before her. She licked her lips again.
The solution was so simple; it was elegant even, in it's simplicity.
"So I need to stop playing around. Tell you what though, I'm gonna be nice about it. I'm gonna kill you and drink your blood as you die. I'll leave it to you to decide where you want me to cut." She brought the sword up, poised to strike. Bitch wanted her to stop playing games, she would get what she wanted. Just not right away. One last little game to play. One last fuck you to someone who thought that Anastasia Arcadia was beholden to their rules.
This was her game. Her world. And no one would EVER deny her what she wanted. And what she wanted most of all was to see this pathetic broken wretch suffer.
Maybe then her own suffering would be alleviated.
She took it all in. All the words the person before her had said stirred in her mind. The audacity of it all, to be like that now of all times. She mulled it over in her mind. She came to her conclusion. "You're right. You're absolutely right. I have been playing around." She smiled. Her eyes wandered over the frightened form before her. She licked her lips again.
The solution was so simple; it was elegant even, in it's simplicity.
"So I need to stop playing around. Tell you what though, I'm gonna be nice about it. I'm gonna kill you and drink your blood as you die. I'll leave it to you to decide where you want me to cut." She brought the sword up, poised to strike. Bitch wanted her to stop playing games, she would get what she wanted. Just not right away. One last little game to play. One last fuck you to someone who thought that Anastasia Arcadia was beholden to their rules.
This was her game. Her world. And no one would EVER deny her what she wanted. And what she wanted most of all was to see this pathetic broken wretch suffer.
Maybe then her own suffering would be alleviated.
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.
((Skipping approved by both General Goose and Serpico.))
And Ana tried.
So, Cathryn grinned. This, despite the sword held a foot above her head, despite her wounds slowly, surely wringing her out.
She looked at Ana. At her eyes in particular. Took in that moment of realization that would surely occur, perhaps a few milliseconds before that flash of the muzzle engulfed her vision, blinded her. And then it would tear through her skin, her tissues, her organs, break her in irreparable ways, much like Jackson and Zoe broke Cathryn. And then the tables would reverse once more. All of Cathryn's ghosts, the ones laughing in her ear and tugging on her sleeves, would vanish, and Cathryn, with another shot of her gun, would keep it that way. Permanently.
And Cathryn, in the moment she pulled her trigger, was so sure of all this. She had her fantasy planned out to the last drop of blood. Why?
Because what other options did she have?
And Ana tried.
So, Cathryn grinned. This, despite the sword held a foot above her head, despite her wounds slowly, surely wringing her out.
She looked at Ana. At her eyes in particular. Took in that moment of realization that would surely occur, perhaps a few milliseconds before that flash of the muzzle engulfed her vision, blinded her. And then it would tear through her skin, her tissues, her organs, break her in irreparable ways, much like Jackson and Zoe broke Cathryn. And then the tables would reverse once more. All of Cathryn's ghosts, the ones laughing in her ear and tugging on her sleeves, would vanish, and Cathryn, with another shot of her gun, would keep it that way. Permanently.
And Cathryn, in the moment she pulled her trigger, was so sure of all this. She had her fantasy planned out to the last drop of blood. Why?
Because what other options did she have?
SC3:
Matias Juarez is fed up. He is currently walking home.
Pregame: now that you are broken by the seas, in the depths of the waters,
Memories: Vamô Detonar essa Porra!
Diego Larrosa is lost. pls give my kids friends tv3 version
Stephanie's Cuckaneers Today at 12:29 AM
maraoone was a mistake - cicada 2021
Matias Juarez is fed up. He is currently walking home.
Pregame: now that you are broken by the seas, in the depths of the waters,
Memories: Vamô Detonar essa Porra!
Diego Larrosa is lost. pls give my kids friends tv3 version
Stephanie's Cuckaneers Today at 12:29 AM
maraoone was a mistake - cicada 2021
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General Goose
- Posts: 318
- Joined: Thu Aug 09, 2018 2:51 pm
Yagmur took a few seconds to understand what had occurred there.
The true complexity of the situation, the poetry of Corin's thoughts, the truth in his musings, the greater weight and significance of his remarks, was all lost on Yagmur. Luckily there were cameras there, so there would be some kind of appreciative audience for such thoughts.
Yagmur just thought it was a misunderstanding.
Darkly comedic, if anything. Not worthy of further thought.
"No, no," he replied, keeping the eye contact, ignorant to any potential awkwardness, shaking his head, not wanting to be drawn into such deep existential stuff. He'd been there. Passed that stage. That sort of shit was for the four-or-five drinks level of inebriation. Yagmur was beyond that. Just. But he was beyond that.
"I didn't mean escape in a philosophical sense," Yagmur continued, not breaking eye contact. Corin probably knew that. Yagmur was the one being oblivious here, but by definition he was not aware of that. "I meant...you know, getting out of here. No euphemisms."
For Yagmur, it had been a simple question. No room for ambiguity.
The true complexity of the situation, the poetry of Corin's thoughts, the truth in his musings, the greater weight and significance of his remarks, was all lost on Yagmur. Luckily there were cameras there, so there would be some kind of appreciative audience for such thoughts.
Yagmur just thought it was a misunderstanding.
Darkly comedic, if anything. Not worthy of further thought.
"No, no," he replied, keeping the eye contact, ignorant to any potential awkwardness, shaking his head, not wanting to be drawn into such deep existential stuff. He'd been there. Passed that stage. That sort of shit was for the four-or-five drinks level of inebriation. Yagmur was beyond that. Just. But he was beyond that.
"I didn't mean escape in a philosophical sense," Yagmur continued, not breaking eye contact. Corin probably knew that. Yagmur was the one being oblivious here, but by definition he was not aware of that. "I meant...you know, getting out of here. No euphemisms."
For Yagmur, it had been a simple question. No room for ambiguity.
-
Lord_Shadow
- Posts: 536
- Joined: Thu Aug 09, 2018 2:43 am
- Team Affiliation: Emmy's Selkies
It all happened so fast.
Ana moved as soon as she saw the girl move her arms. She hasn't moved fast enough. The bullet tore through her ruined arm. She howled in a mix of pain and fury. Her unrestrained rage boiled over and took control.
AnArchy attacked before the girl could get another shot in. She plunged her sword into the other girl's eye, something in the back of her mind reminding her of the old adage. She shoved the blade in with her rage granting her the strength.
"You bitch! My arm's broken! Bitch! I hate you! HATE YOU!" She pushed with each yell, driving the blade in deeper. Tears of fury streamed down her cheeks.
"Just fucking die already!" Ana kicked at the stupid girl's body.
"Fuck" Kick.
"Ing" Another kick.
"Die!"
Ana moved as soon as she saw the girl move her arms. She hasn't moved fast enough. The bullet tore through her ruined arm. She howled in a mix of pain and fury. Her unrestrained rage boiled over and took control.
AnArchy attacked before the girl could get another shot in. She plunged her sword into the other girl's eye, something in the back of her mind reminding her of the old adage. She shoved the blade in with her rage granting her the strength.
"You bitch! My arm's broken! Bitch! I hate you! HATE YOU!" She pushed with each yell, driving the blade in deeper. Tears of fury streamed down her cheeks.
"Just fucking die already!" Ana kicked at the stupid girl's body.
"Fuck" Kick.
"Ing" Another kick.
"Die!"
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.
Corin sighed, his eyes only breaking contact as he heard the boom of gunfire in the distance again. He wondered briefly if someone had died, the fact that he could hear so much going on in the background was leaving him anxious to sort things out. It wasn’t that he really actively wanted to be participating, but the fact that he didn’t know was killing him. He wondered how many bullets he left inside of the rifle and the pistol, in the former there were at least two or three, but in the latter he had no clue.
He wondered if it was enough.
“I knew what you meant.” He responded, shaking his head and giving a wry smile, “We can’t all be as lucky as the people from the season with the dud collars.”
He paused, listening out for more noises. Yagmur was about as useless as a sack of potatoes to him in his current state, rambling about things that are better left unsaid, things not appropriate at the moment.
“We should stop talking.” He says finally, bringing a finger to his lip to signal that Yagmur needs to shut up. “Or someone will hear us before we hear them.”
He wondered if Yagmur even cared if that happened. Corin cared that there were a few more exits than what he could mind, and that Yagmur probably didn't want or need to help him with that, he didn't expect him to do a good job of it at the moment either.
Neither of them were obligated to lend a hand to the other anyway.
He wondered if it was enough.
“I knew what you meant.” He responded, shaking his head and giving a wry smile, “We can’t all be as lucky as the people from the season with the dud collars.”
He paused, listening out for more noises. Yagmur was about as useless as a sack of potatoes to him in his current state, rambling about things that are better left unsaid, things not appropriate at the moment.
“We should stop talking.” He says finally, bringing a finger to his lip to signal that Yagmur needs to shut up. “Or someone will hear us before we hear them.”
He wondered if Yagmur even cared if that happened. Corin cared that there were a few more exits than what he could mind, and that Yagmur probably didn't want or need to help him with that, he didn't expect him to do a good job of it at the moment either.
Neither of them were obligated to lend a hand to the other anyway.
One-half. If Cathryn's aim had been one-half of an inch to the left, then there'd be nothing else to talk about. Ana would be another close call, like Corin, and she'd live at least a few more minutes. She could've found Corin, and maybe Yagmur. She could've really surprised them, and she meant really, with her bullets. And then they'd fly in with her helicopters and try to put her back together. Maybe, she'd be whole.
And there was another word that, only now, Cathryn started to hate: could. So much denied possibility in those five letters. She could have killed Ana. She could have killed the rest of them.
She could have lived.
But instead of tearing through healthy, beating organs, her bullet tore through that which had been broken already. It meant nothing.
"No," she whispered.
This would be her last word. Not the 'no' she'd relied on, this two-letter word which brought light to a hopeless situation, but one which confirmed the futility of it all.
Her eyes saw Ana's face transform into that of pure fury. Her right eye, in particular, saw Ana raise her sword.
And another last. The last time she'd blink with both eyes.
The vision in her right eye changed to black. Ana's blade went in three, four, five inches, missing Cathryn's brain by millimeters.
Pain. Red-hot, searing, burning pain igniting the nerves in her right eye socket, drowning her, overwhelming her. In the back of her mind, she heard someone screaming. Probably her vocal cords tearing themselves apart, for another last time. Her throat burned slightly, the wound in her cheek tore open. Her tongue felt cold. Tasted metal. But pain. So much.
She opened her left eye, and caught a glimpse of black in her peripheral vision. Her gun. She'd dropped it, slid it away from herself. Now, now of all times, she craved that cold metal, the feeling of control on her fingers.
And that was the answer, the final answer. Control. Cathryn would control how she died. One bullet to the temple. Quick, merciful.
There was no hope to be had here, no final, hopeful 'no' to change the tides. All there was was death. But it could still be in Cathryn's hands, her death. One last act of control. Ana couldn't decide, couldn't have her.
One last effort, one last push. Her right arm stretched forwards, but it felt nothing but carpet. Inches. Once more, inches decided her fate. But if she could go just a little further, just one more inch...
Cathryn got the wind knocked out of her. Again. And again. Her last breaths being forced out of her lungs by Ana's foot. And all of Cathryn's wounds screamed along with her, oozed open and wrung her out even more. Her clothes were red. Her face was red. She tasted red. Coughed red out. And her energy was running out. But just one more push, because Ana couldn't have her, couldn't have her. Control, just one last act of control, please, please, please
She got the gun a bit closer to her. It was in reach. But she had nothing left. She tried putting her fingers around the gun, tried lifting it, but it doubled, tripled in weight. No, it was stuck to the floor. She couldn't get it. Goddamn it. She'd been so close.
And in that moment, she saw clarity, the worst type of it.
Had Leah's death meant anything?
No.
Nina's?
No.
Alice's, Lucia's, Zoe's, Jackson's?
No, no, no, no.
She'd sacrificed so much of herself, so much and it all added up to nothing. Cathryn still died. And now she realized that she didn't have time anymore. Literally. Her last hours and last minutes were long gone. By now, the last grains of sand were struggling to stay in the upper half of her hourglass. And despite this, all that was on Cathryn's mind was the future, the long-term future.
In a few seconds, Ana would get to savor Cathryn's death, this victory that she had no right to even come close to attaining. In a few minutes, they'd announce that Corin or Yagmur or Dougie or fucking Ana would be the winner of SOTF, and they'd get to go to their homes while Cathryn rotted in the casino. The few friends that Leah and she had would mourn, perhaps. Or maybe some of them would scorn their memories. Who'd want to be associated with a murderer, right? And maybe some person she spared a glance at once would talk about how they were totally best friends and how she was devastated Cathryn lost.
In a few days, maybe her mother would hear the news. And she would simply reply with a drink, like usual.
And in a year, some girl, perhaps in Kansas or Nebraska this time, would be scrolling down her tumblr at 3:30 in the morning. And then she'd accidentally stumble upon some gif of Cathryn getting stabbed in the eye, and bleeding to death. And at that point, she'd be the one to scroll past, perhaps with her heart racing, her chest heaving. And she'd try to hide the memory of Cathryn's death away in the sidelines of her browser.
And this is all Cathryn would be reduced to after her last seconds. They wouldn't know her as the girl who crawled her way out of Nowhere, Oklahoma, nor as the girl who fought her way through SOTF, but as Ana's fodder.
Hey guys, look at how brutal this death is.
Is that Cathryn?
Yeah, dude.
Aw, I was rooting for her too.
The movies and TV shows were fucking lying. They'd promised her control, as long as she sold her soul. They promised her decisions, and yet in these moments, she'd had no choice in anything that happened. One misstep, one-half of an inch, and everything had been taken from her. And there was no control in death, or after it.
In the end, Cathryn would die as she lived. Her mind, up to the end, still filled with anger, fear, and regret, that triad that never really left her. Her last movement was a final push to pick up the gun, and press it against her temple. But it merely clattered against the ground, and her arm simply flailed. It was decided. Ana would have her. And Cathryn tried to say one last thing, but she lacked the air in her lungs necessary to speak. It had been kicked out by Ana.
So, in her last five seconds, she thought the last thing she would ever think. She thought about that word that, once her greatest ally, had betrayed her in the end. That word that changed meaning so drastically in these last minutes.
No.
And then she closed her eyes for the last time.
CJ2: CATHRYN BAILEY: DECEASED
3 STUDENTS REMAINING
And there was another word that, only now, Cathryn started to hate: could. So much denied possibility in those five letters. She could have killed Ana. She could have killed the rest of them.
She could have lived.
But instead of tearing through healthy, beating organs, her bullet tore through that which had been broken already. It meant nothing.
"No," she whispered.
This would be her last word. Not the 'no' she'd relied on, this two-letter word which brought light to a hopeless situation, but one which confirmed the futility of it all.
Her eyes saw Ana's face transform into that of pure fury. Her right eye, in particular, saw Ana raise her sword.
And another last. The last time she'd blink with both eyes.
The vision in her right eye changed to black. Ana's blade went in three, four, five inches, missing Cathryn's brain by millimeters.
Pain. Red-hot, searing, burning pain igniting the nerves in her right eye socket, drowning her, overwhelming her. In the back of her mind, she heard someone screaming. Probably her vocal cords tearing themselves apart, for another last time. Her throat burned slightly, the wound in her cheek tore open. Her tongue felt cold. Tasted metal. But pain. So much.
She opened her left eye, and caught a glimpse of black in her peripheral vision. Her gun. She'd dropped it, slid it away from herself. Now, now of all times, she craved that cold metal, the feeling of control on her fingers.
And that was the answer, the final answer. Control. Cathryn would control how she died. One bullet to the temple. Quick, merciful.
There was no hope to be had here, no final, hopeful 'no' to change the tides. All there was was death. But it could still be in Cathryn's hands, her death. One last act of control. Ana couldn't decide, couldn't have her.
One last effort, one last push. Her right arm stretched forwards, but it felt nothing but carpet. Inches. Once more, inches decided her fate. But if she could go just a little further, just one more inch...
Cathryn got the wind knocked out of her. Again. And again. Her last breaths being forced out of her lungs by Ana's foot. And all of Cathryn's wounds screamed along with her, oozed open and wrung her out even more. Her clothes were red. Her face was red. She tasted red. Coughed red out. And her energy was running out. But just one more push, because Ana couldn't have her, couldn't have her. Control, just one last act of control, please, please, please
She got the gun a bit closer to her. It was in reach. But she had nothing left. She tried putting her fingers around the gun, tried lifting it, but it doubled, tripled in weight. No, it was stuck to the floor. She couldn't get it. Goddamn it. She'd been so close.
And in that moment, she saw clarity, the worst type of it.
Had Leah's death meant anything?
No.
Nina's?
No.
Alice's, Lucia's, Zoe's, Jackson's?
No, no, no, no.
She'd sacrificed so much of herself, so much and it all added up to nothing. Cathryn still died. And now she realized that she didn't have time anymore. Literally. Her last hours and last minutes were long gone. By now, the last grains of sand were struggling to stay in the upper half of her hourglass. And despite this, all that was on Cathryn's mind was the future, the long-term future.
In a few seconds, Ana would get to savor Cathryn's death, this victory that she had no right to even come close to attaining. In a few minutes, they'd announce that Corin or Yagmur or Dougie or fucking Ana would be the winner of SOTF, and they'd get to go to their homes while Cathryn rotted in the casino. The few friends that Leah and she had would mourn, perhaps. Or maybe some of them would scorn their memories. Who'd want to be associated with a murderer, right? And maybe some person she spared a glance at once would talk about how they were totally best friends and how she was devastated Cathryn lost.
In a few days, maybe her mother would hear the news. And she would simply reply with a drink, like usual.
And in a year, some girl, perhaps in Kansas or Nebraska this time, would be scrolling down her tumblr at 3:30 in the morning. And then she'd accidentally stumble upon some gif of Cathryn getting stabbed in the eye, and bleeding to death. And at that point, she'd be the one to scroll past, perhaps with her heart racing, her chest heaving. And she'd try to hide the memory of Cathryn's death away in the sidelines of her browser.
And this is all Cathryn would be reduced to after her last seconds. They wouldn't know her as the girl who crawled her way out of Nowhere, Oklahoma, nor as the girl who fought her way through SOTF, but as Ana's fodder.
Hey guys, look at how brutal this death is.
Is that Cathryn?
Yeah, dude.
Aw, I was rooting for her too.
The movies and TV shows were fucking lying. They'd promised her control, as long as she sold her soul. They promised her decisions, and yet in these moments, she'd had no choice in anything that happened. One misstep, one-half of an inch, and everything had been taken from her. And there was no control in death, or after it.
In the end, Cathryn would die as she lived. Her mind, up to the end, still filled with anger, fear, and regret, that triad that never really left her. Her last movement was a final push to pick up the gun, and press it against her temple. But it merely clattered against the ground, and her arm simply flailed. It was decided. Ana would have her. And Cathryn tried to say one last thing, but she lacked the air in her lungs necessary to speak. It had been kicked out by Ana.
So, in her last five seconds, she thought the last thing she would ever think. She thought about that word that, once her greatest ally, had betrayed her in the end. That word that changed meaning so drastically in these last minutes.
No.
And then she closed her eyes for the last time.
CJ2: CATHRYN BAILEY: DECEASED
3 STUDENTS REMAINING
SC3:
Matias Juarez is fed up. He is currently walking home.
Pregame: now that you are broken by the seas, in the depths of the waters,
Memories: Vamô Detonar essa Porra!
Diego Larrosa is lost. pls give my kids friends tv3 version
Stephanie's Cuckaneers Today at 12:29 AM
maraoone was a mistake - cicada 2021
Matias Juarez is fed up. He is currently walking home.
Pregame: now that you are broken by the seas, in the depths of the waters,
Memories: Vamô Detonar essa Porra!
Diego Larrosa is lost. pls give my kids friends tv3 version
Stephanie's Cuckaneers Today at 12:29 AM
maraoone was a mistake - cicada 2021
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General Goose
- Posts: 318
- Joined: Thu Aug 09, 2018 2:51 pm
The damage had been done.
That was Yagmur's instinctive response to Corin's suggestion that they be quiet, in the aim of avoiding attracting undue attention. Yags had both legitimate and illegitimate reasons for disagreeing with such a strategy.
The damage had been done. His position was already compromised to Corin, who'd likely be pretty damn dangerous the moment his mood soured.
The illegitimate reasons bordered on the ad hominem.
God, Corin was being a rambling fuck right now, Yagmur mused, his train of thought completely missing the hypocrisy of such a sentiment.
Yet Yagmur still obliged. Not deliberately, but because he had run out of words to say to this mopey fuck who would likely try to kill him whenever he got the chance, and because he wanted another sip.
He let the alcohol linger in his mouth. Could be the last good taste he'd get to savour.
That was Yagmur's instinctive response to Corin's suggestion that they be quiet, in the aim of avoiding attracting undue attention. Yags had both legitimate and illegitimate reasons for disagreeing with such a strategy.
The damage had been done. His position was already compromised to Corin, who'd likely be pretty damn dangerous the moment his mood soured.
The illegitimate reasons bordered on the ad hominem.
God, Corin was being a rambling fuck right now, Yagmur mused, his train of thought completely missing the hypocrisy of such a sentiment.
Yet Yagmur still obliged. Not deliberately, but because he had run out of words to say to this mopey fuck who would likely try to kill him whenever he got the chance, and because he wanted another sip.
He let the alcohol linger in his mouth. Could be the last good taste he'd get to savour.
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Lord_Shadow
- Posts: 536
- Joined: Thu Aug 09, 2018 2:43 am
- Team Affiliation: Emmy's Selkies
Her rage still boiled inside of her. She removed the sword from inside of the corpse's eye. She brought it up, and swung down on the right arm. Then again on the left. Then once more on the right. A slash across the chest. Another the other way around. Blood splattered across her dress and her legs. The aroma of death filled the air. She tossed the sword aside.
She fell to her knees, leaned forward, and sank her teeth into the right arm. She bit down as hard as she could and ripped off a piece of flesh. She spat it out immediately, then stuck her mouth over the freshly oozing blood and slurped it in. She removed her mouth, wiped her lips with her sleeve, and fell backwards onto her back.
She closed her eyes.
She felt so...
...
...
...
Empty.
She opened her eyes again and she was in some unfamiliar bedroom. She looked around, and caught her reflection in a full length mirror. She was... beautiful. Lovely. Gorgeous. Amazing. A vision of loveliness clad in a deep crimson dress.
She was older, more mature, and seemed... happy. She was actually smiling. She heard sounds of small children playing through the window. She got up and moved to see a young boy and girl running around the yard outside, laughing and screaming in joy, playing tag. Her smile somehow grew warmer.
Then she saw him. Her darling. Older, more handsome, more wonderfully bright than she remembered him. She knew. This was what was real. This was the life she had been wanting. And it was real and right before her eyes. She touched the window and felt the warmth of the shining sun on the glass. This was hers. Now and forever.
Forever.
A throbbing pain in her arm jolted her from reality. She groaned. "No. Take me back to what's real. I don't want this. I can't deal with this." She wept. Tears flowed endlessly. The pain refused to go away. Reality didn't come back. "I'm not here. This isn't the truth." She sobbed. Her voice grew steadily louder.
"Take me back home. Take me back to my husband and my kids. They need their mother. They need me. Take me back. Take me back. TAKE ME BACK! TAKE ME BACK! TAKE ME BACK! TAKE ME BACK! GOD PLEASE! TAKE ME BACK!" She screamed at the lie but if refused to go away. She roared in frustration and anger. She turned over and forced herself up, broken and bleeding arm be damned. The pain was intense, and her blood didn't stop dripping down.
"I'M GOING TO GET THEM BACK. YOU CAN'T KEEP ME HERE. YOU CAN'T. IT'S NOT FAIR. IT'S MY LIFE, MY ONE SHOT AT HAPPINESS AND THIS DAMN PLACE WILL NOT MAKE ME FORGET IT." She screamed.
She turned to face the body. She picked up the gun from where it had fallen. She looked at her handiwork. It was just as fake as the rest of this place. Why should she feel bad?
But she did. Her mouth formed a grimace. Tears still streamed down. A life finally taken by her hands. It was getting to her.
"I had to. This isn't real. My family is waiting for me. They need me. I had to."
She wept even more. Somehow through the mess she managed to tear her sleeve and stop the bleeding again. She retrieved the sword and sheathed it. Somehow, she had the will to keep going.
She's seen her reality. And she would do whatever it took to get it back.
"My name is Anastasia. I'm a wife and a mother. This isn't the real me. I need to wake up. I-I have to kill them. Kill them all. It's... the only... way."
She stopped in her tracks.
What were the names of her children.
She couldn't remember.
She couldn't remember.
She fell to her knees, leaned forward, and sank her teeth into the right arm. She bit down as hard as she could and ripped off a piece of flesh. She spat it out immediately, then stuck her mouth over the freshly oozing blood and slurped it in. She removed her mouth, wiped her lips with her sleeve, and fell backwards onto her back.
She closed her eyes.
She felt so...
...
...
...
Empty.
She opened her eyes again and she was in some unfamiliar bedroom. She looked around, and caught her reflection in a full length mirror. She was... beautiful. Lovely. Gorgeous. Amazing. A vision of loveliness clad in a deep crimson dress.
She was older, more mature, and seemed... happy. She was actually smiling. She heard sounds of small children playing through the window. She got up and moved to see a young boy and girl running around the yard outside, laughing and screaming in joy, playing tag. Her smile somehow grew warmer.
Then she saw him. Her darling. Older, more handsome, more wonderfully bright than she remembered him. She knew. This was what was real. This was the life she had been wanting. And it was real and right before her eyes. She touched the window and felt the warmth of the shining sun on the glass. This was hers. Now and forever.
Forever.
A throbbing pain in her arm jolted her from reality. She groaned. "No. Take me back to what's real. I don't want this. I can't deal with this." She wept. Tears flowed endlessly. The pain refused to go away. Reality didn't come back. "I'm not here. This isn't the truth." She sobbed. Her voice grew steadily louder.
"Take me back home. Take me back to my husband and my kids. They need their mother. They need me. Take me back. Take me back. TAKE ME BACK! TAKE ME BACK! TAKE ME BACK! TAKE ME BACK! GOD PLEASE! TAKE ME BACK!" She screamed at the lie but if refused to go away. She roared in frustration and anger. She turned over and forced herself up, broken and bleeding arm be damned. The pain was intense, and her blood didn't stop dripping down.
"I'M GOING TO GET THEM BACK. YOU CAN'T KEEP ME HERE. YOU CAN'T. IT'S NOT FAIR. IT'S MY LIFE, MY ONE SHOT AT HAPPINESS AND THIS DAMN PLACE WILL NOT MAKE ME FORGET IT." She screamed.
She turned to face the body. She picked up the gun from where it had fallen. She looked at her handiwork. It was just as fake as the rest of this place. Why should she feel bad?
But she did. Her mouth formed a grimace. Tears still streamed down. A life finally taken by her hands. It was getting to her.
"I had to. This isn't real. My family is waiting for me. They need me. I had to."
She wept even more. Somehow through the mess she managed to tear her sleeve and stop the bleeding again. She retrieved the sword and sheathed it. Somehow, she had the will to keep going.
She's seen her reality. And she would do whatever it took to get it back.
"My name is Anastasia. I'm a wife and a mother. This isn't the real me. I need to wake up. I-I have to kill them. Kill them all. It's... the only... way."
She stopped in her tracks.
What were the names of her children.
She couldn't remember.
She couldn't remember.
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.
Beyond the clinking of the glass the room fell into silence, Yagmur continued to drink. In any other sort of scenario, Corin would have urged him to stop, and he might of if they weren’t competing to hold on to what semblance was left of their lives.
‘It’s your funeral, then.’ He thought to himself quietly as he began to listen out for the noises.
For a while there were no more gunshots, and part of him wanted to desperately know what had occurred out there. It was only moments later that the screaming in the distance alerted him Anarchy’s presence. At first he’d thought, since he’d always considered her a weak competitor, that it was likely the noise of her final death throes. He thought that she was a screamer; she’d been one for the most part, so why not now. But it didn’t die down fast enough to reassure him, she was ranting content that was unintelligible to him, and it though muffled by the noises of the Casino it sounded almost full of life. Of all the people that died in front of him, not a single one screamed that way. But then again, Anarchy was an atypical example in most senses when it came to competitors. He wondered if she had killed someone, as unlikely as that was with her arm and her weapon.
But then a thought struck him like a tonne of bricks and he started to wonder if she had come back and grabbed Anzu’s guns.
He was starting to regret leaving those behind, he couldn’t remember if he’d emptied those out and thrown the magazines somewhere, or if Anzu had fully spent them. He’d been mentally worn out and tired back then, he didn’t have any good judgement in him. He thought that it might be possible, that he couldn't be certain about anything. He brought his spare hand to his mouth; a tired, concerned expression overtook his features as he drummed a finger on his chin. He glanced at Yagmur, he wouldn’t let him know, and he’d rather die than give him the amusement. He was probably too smashed to care about it in the best case scenario.
His rifle came back into his awareness again, his hands sweating and anxious as he chewed the inside of his cheek. He quickly decided that he was coming for Anarchy a final time, and this time he didn’t care if Yagmur was following. Or he was coming for the person who had killed her. It didn’t matter at that point; the fact was that he just couldn’t sit on his thumbs anymore.
He had to make sure she wasn’t the person to walk out after everything he’d been through.
‘It’s your funeral, then.’ He thought to himself quietly as he began to listen out for the noises.
For a while there were no more gunshots, and part of him wanted to desperately know what had occurred out there. It was only moments later that the screaming in the distance alerted him Anarchy’s presence. At first he’d thought, since he’d always considered her a weak competitor, that it was likely the noise of her final death throes. He thought that she was a screamer; she’d been one for the most part, so why not now. But it didn’t die down fast enough to reassure him, she was ranting content that was unintelligible to him, and it though muffled by the noises of the Casino it sounded almost full of life. Of all the people that died in front of him, not a single one screamed that way. But then again, Anarchy was an atypical example in most senses when it came to competitors. He wondered if she had killed someone, as unlikely as that was with her arm and her weapon.
But then a thought struck him like a tonne of bricks and he started to wonder if she had come back and grabbed Anzu’s guns.
He was starting to regret leaving those behind, he couldn’t remember if he’d emptied those out and thrown the magazines somewhere, or if Anzu had fully spent them. He’d been mentally worn out and tired back then, he didn’t have any good judgement in him. He thought that it might be possible, that he couldn't be certain about anything. He brought his spare hand to his mouth; a tired, concerned expression overtook his features as he drummed a finger on his chin. He glanced at Yagmur, he wouldn’t let him know, and he’d rather die than give him the amusement. He was probably too smashed to care about it in the best case scenario.
His rifle came back into his awareness again, his hands sweating and anxious as he chewed the inside of his cheek. He quickly decided that he was coming for Anarchy a final time, and this time he didn’t care if Yagmur was following. Or he was coming for the person who had killed her. It didn’t matter at that point; the fact was that he just couldn’t sit on his thumbs anymore.
He had to make sure she wasn’t the person to walk out after everything he’d been through.
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General Goose
- Posts: 318
- Joined: Thu Aug 09, 2018 2:51 pm
Yagmur would probably follow Corin eventually. Head to the action, instead of letting it come to him. Have some agency, some input on how he dies, even if it was just in placement, just in how much walking he got done before he died.
But first, another drink of liquid courage.
He poured himself a final glass.
Well, hopefully it wouldn't be his final glass.
But still. It was a possibility.
Three fingers worth of whiskey.
Fuck it.
Four.
But first, another drink of liquid courage.
He poured himself a final glass.
Well, hopefully it wouldn't be his final glass.
But still. It was a possibility.
Three fingers worth of whiskey.
Fuck it.
Four.
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Lord_Shadow
- Posts: 536
- Joined: Thu Aug 09, 2018 2:43 am
- Team Affiliation: Emmy's Selkies
Reality was back.
She was standing in a hallway. Family photos depicting her, her husband, and her children adorned the walls. They chronicled the story of the years she had spent making this family a reality. She passed a photo of her and her beloved as teens. They were all glitzed up and glamorous. Dressed in a stunning evening gown and a luxurious tux respectively. Surrounded by famous people.
Famous because of what they had survived. A harrowing ordeal. But they had made it out together. Against all odds, they managed to escape that hell, they saved a few others as well. It was incredible how they made it through the gauntlet, the fiery crucible that tested their very souls and...
And suddenly she was back in the lie. A world where she was still trapped in a nightmare. It was frustrating, knowing this wasn't real. She's been through all this before. Had lived similar events and overcome similar obstacles. She had made it with her life and the lives of the people she cared about.
But not here. Here she watched them die. Die pointless stupid death's that meant nothing. This wasn't how it went. Why was her mind showing her such a messed up, ruined, wrong version of events? She couldn't fathom. And why had it taken her so long to remember the truth? The stupid contructs and personae in her mind had distracted her, she thought.
"I need to wake up. This has all happened before. But it was different. I was different. Why? Why am I doing this all over again?" She drew the sword and sla—
shed the air with her empty hand. Her husband looked at her like she was crazy.
She tried to recover. "T-there was a fly." Her face flushed red with embarrassment. Her daughter laughed. Ana briefly frowned. She still couldn't remember the young girl's name. "D-don't laugh! There really was—
a fly." She blinked. Blinked again.
"FUCK!"
This was beyond frustrating. This was downright torture. One moment she was blissfully with her family. The next she was back here. Was this what going crazy was like? Was she losing her mind? It figured, and just right after remembering what was real. Why was her mind so focused on this damn place? Hadn't she moved past it?
She remembered therapy. Her boyfr— husband's suggestion. Help them get over their trauma. She remembered coming to terms with those she didn't save. Those she had to...
So why hasn't her mind let this place go?
She sheathed the sword, took the gun from the little fold she had made. When did she have time to do that?
Missing time. Not just at home but here as well.
She was losing her mind.
"Need to end this." She sighed.
She moved forward.
It was time to kill those last two bastards and be done with this false memory once and for all.
"Blood. Yours, not mine. Blood has to be spilled to end it. It has to end. It WILL END!"
She was standing in a hallway. Family photos depicting her, her husband, and her children adorned the walls. They chronicled the story of the years she had spent making this family a reality. She passed a photo of her and her beloved as teens. They were all glitzed up and glamorous. Dressed in a stunning evening gown and a luxurious tux respectively. Surrounded by famous people.
Famous because of what they had survived. A harrowing ordeal. But they had made it out together. Against all odds, they managed to escape that hell, they saved a few others as well. It was incredible how they made it through the gauntlet, the fiery crucible that tested their very souls and...
And suddenly she was back in the lie. A world where she was still trapped in a nightmare. It was frustrating, knowing this wasn't real. She's been through all this before. Had lived similar events and overcome similar obstacles. She had made it with her life and the lives of the people she cared about.
But not here. Here she watched them die. Die pointless stupid death's that meant nothing. This wasn't how it went. Why was her mind showing her such a messed up, ruined, wrong version of events? She couldn't fathom. And why had it taken her so long to remember the truth? The stupid contructs and personae in her mind had distracted her, she thought.
"I need to wake up. This has all happened before. But it was different. I was different. Why? Why am I doing this all over again?" She drew the sword and sla—
shed the air with her empty hand. Her husband looked at her like she was crazy.
She tried to recover. "T-there was a fly." Her face flushed red with embarrassment. Her daughter laughed. Ana briefly frowned. She still couldn't remember the young girl's name. "D-don't laugh! There really was—
a fly." She blinked. Blinked again.
"FUCK!"
This was beyond frustrating. This was downright torture. One moment she was blissfully with her family. The next she was back here. Was this what going crazy was like? Was she losing her mind? It figured, and just right after remembering what was real. Why was her mind so focused on this damn place? Hadn't she moved past it?
She remembered therapy. Her boyfr— husband's suggestion. Help them get over their trauma. She remembered coming to terms with those she didn't save. Those she had to...
So why hasn't her mind let this place go?
She sheathed the sword, took the gun from the little fold she had made. When did she have time to do that?
Missing time. Not just at home but here as well.
She was losing her mind.
"Need to end this." She sighed.
She moved forward.
It was time to kill those last two bastards and be done with this false memory once and for all.
"Blood. Yours, not mine. Blood has to be spilled to end it. It has to end. It WILL END!"
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.
It wasn’t a welcome feeling to skulk around the building, never before did he picture himself having to do this in his life, actually going through with the idea of hunting some person like an animal. He never considered himself someone to contend in the game in his regular life, no matter how he agreed or discussed with others, he didn’t really care for this until the matter was thrust on him.
At that moment he could feel this unpleasant dryness in his mouth, the result of the thickening tension and anticipation building up in his mind and body. He could sense the end was coming soon and that worried him. There was so much built up at the moment that he couldn’t say that it was just one thing bothering him. The only thing that kept him from absolutely losing it was the fact that as long as he held a weapon in his hands he still had some agency.
He wasn’t aware that at any moment that he could meet her out there, or that he was closing in on her location. He’d lost track of Yagmur for that moment, but hadn’t been moving at a pace that meant that he would be far. Still, he was less of a worry at that time as he had to worry about Cathryn and whoever else was out there, she was most capable as far as he knew. She nipped him hard enough that it pulled the fear right into him, and the pulsing dull wound on his back wouldn’t let him forget her. Pain was subjective, and at the best of times it was a three or four out of ten, when he moved the wrong way it would jump to a seven or six. He wouldn’t complain about it though, since the psychological torture ramped itself way past ten on a pain scale. There wasn’t anyone that would take pity on him anyway.
Anarchy could do little in comparison to pull that kind of feeling into him, but if he could just get the least bit of reaction he figured that he might just feel a little better.
Just a sense of empowerment, that’s what mattered to him.
He wasn’t aware or prepared for how soon things were going to get rolling.
At that moment he could feel this unpleasant dryness in his mouth, the result of the thickening tension and anticipation building up in his mind and body. He could sense the end was coming soon and that worried him. There was so much built up at the moment that he couldn’t say that it was just one thing bothering him. The only thing that kept him from absolutely losing it was the fact that as long as he held a weapon in his hands he still had some agency.
He wasn’t aware that at any moment that he could meet her out there, or that he was closing in on her location. He’d lost track of Yagmur for that moment, but hadn’t been moving at a pace that meant that he would be far. Still, he was less of a worry at that time as he had to worry about Cathryn and whoever else was out there, she was most capable as far as he knew. She nipped him hard enough that it pulled the fear right into him, and the pulsing dull wound on his back wouldn’t let him forget her. Pain was subjective, and at the best of times it was a three or four out of ten, when he moved the wrong way it would jump to a seven or six. He wouldn’t complain about it though, since the psychological torture ramped itself way past ten on a pain scale. There wasn’t anyone that would take pity on him anyway.
Anarchy could do little in comparison to pull that kind of feeling into him, but if he could just get the least bit of reaction he figured that he might just feel a little better.
Just a sense of empowerment, that’s what mattered to him.
He wasn’t aware or prepared for how soon things were going to get rolling.