Hmm.
Drinking from a glass lacked mobility. He would have to stay nearby the refueling station, so to speak. It was the same problem that killed the electric car.
Required a change in strategy.
He picked up the bottle he had been using as a source of refreshment - a small bottle, a concession in the name of health and the circumstantial need for relative temperance - and examined it. Half-empty. It was some locally-sourced liquor of little value that had probably gotten into this as some sort of marketing deal.
He held the bottle up, some of its contents splashing liberally on the floor, as if preparing to bring it down on his own skull. It was only a ploy to get on the cameras on him. Just before it made contact, he stopped the swing. Well, okay, that wasn't accurate, the corner slightly tapped against his skull. He slowed the swing, more accurately. "This shit tastes disgusting," he lied, directing his bite to the camera.
Ha. Eat that, marketing deal.
He realised after that that the power of his subversive message was dented by how he immediately brought the bottle back up to his lips, chugging a few hearty gulps. Actions speak louder than words, after all.
He no longer cared.
With bottle in hand, Yags set off.
Production Costs
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General Goose
- Posts: 318
- Joined: Thu Aug 09, 2018 2:51 pm
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Lord_Shadow
- Posts: 536
- Joined: Thu Aug 09, 2018 2:43 am
- Team Affiliation: Emmy's Selkies
"Kill them all. Go home again. That's how it works. I can see my family again when these phantoms are all dead." She walked aimlessly. She had no clue where they could be. But she had to find them if she wanted to end things. Her feet carried her forward. She closed her eyes.
And suddenly she was back again. But something was different. It was quiet. There were no sounds anywhere. And where had her family gone? She didn't see anyone and she couldn't hear anything. She took a step and felt something warm and liquidy beneath her feet. She glanced down and saw blood dripping silently. Blood dripping from... herself. Her eyes went wide. She suddenly felt the wound, a gaping hole in chest. Right where her heart was. She opened her mouth to scream.
No sound came out. She stopped walking and felt her heart. Nothing. No blood. No wound. But this was the lie. If she was injured like that for real... then...
How.
Was.
She.
Still.
Alive?
Because it isn't real!
She heard footsteps nearby. She broke into a run to confront them. Soon, the source came into sight.
"Corin."
She smiled.
You are already dead!
"Oh baby. You came to see me?"
She smiled wider.
You died a long time ago!
This. Was what she had been waiting for.
And suddenly she was back again. But something was different. It was quiet. There were no sounds anywhere. And where had her family gone? She didn't see anyone and she couldn't hear anything. She took a step and felt something warm and liquidy beneath her feet. She glanced down and saw blood dripping silently. Blood dripping from... herself. Her eyes went wide. She suddenly felt the wound, a gaping hole in chest. Right where her heart was. She opened her mouth to scream.
No sound came out. She stopped walking and felt her heart. Nothing. No blood. No wound. But this was the lie. If she was injured like that for real... then...
How.
Was.
She.
Still.
Alive?
Because it isn't real!
She heard footsteps nearby. She broke into a run to confront them. Soon, the source came into sight.
"Corin."
She smiled.
You are already dead!
"Oh baby. You came to see me?"
She smiled wider.
You died a long time ago!
This. Was what she had been waiting for.
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 could hear it; heavy foot falls as something started to approach him. He half expected Yagmur, wondered if he was finally going to treat this like the endgame it was. His body pivoted so that the barrel of the rifle would meet with the direction of the source. His lips thinned as he came face to face with Anarchy.
The way that she called him baby resonated with some sense of repulsion and disgust.
“Yeah,” Corin replied, with a wry grin. “I sure did.”
His smile faded as he glanced down at her hands, recognising the weapon that she held. The one that hurt him, he recalled. He knew in some capacity what it most likely meant, but at the same time he couldn’t believe it. He couldn’t believe it because she seemed like so much more of a person than the one that stood in front of him, in every regard, fuller, more human. She was someone who deserved to be standing there.
His eye squinted, his predominant eye peering at her from over the barrel. It was only now that he finally had the guts and determination to do it, now that he was finally just sick of being broken down and putting it off. His finger moving from the trigger guard to finally put an end to the Anarchy saga.
His ears started to ring with the boom that broke through the air; it rendered his arms weak for that moment, filled his whole body with tension.
Not relief.
The way that she called him baby resonated with some sense of repulsion and disgust.
“Yeah,” Corin replied, with a wry grin. “I sure did.”
His smile faded as he glanced down at her hands, recognising the weapon that she held. The one that hurt him, he recalled. He knew in some capacity what it most likely meant, but at the same time he couldn’t believe it. He couldn’t believe it because she seemed like so much more of a person than the one that stood in front of him, in every regard, fuller, more human. She was someone who deserved to be standing there.
His eye squinted, his predominant eye peering at her from over the barrel. It was only now that he finally had the guts and determination to do it, now that he was finally just sick of being broken down and putting it off. His finger moving from the trigger guard to finally put an end to the Anarchy saga.
His ears started to ring with the boom that broke through the air; it rendered his arms weak for that moment, filled his whole body with tension.
Not relief.
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General Goose
- Posts: 318
- Joined: Thu Aug 09, 2018 2:51 pm
Yagmur had flinched as he pulled the trigger.
He was not one of those rare individuals who could keep his eyes open, maintain an unfazed demeanour, as he fired a gun. He had hurt his eyes somewhat, trying in his foolhardy state of intoxication to attempt such a feat. The attempts to force his eyes to remain open, against all logic and all sane rationality, took up far too much of his mental willpower.
Luckily, he didn’t need much motivation to aim at Ana and shoot her in the face.
Still, the concentration induced resulted in a flash of a more problematic headache hitting his temple. Luckily he had put off yelling his choice insult at her. A third task would have been one multi-tasking endeavour too much for Yagmur.
Combined with the cut on his good hand being agitated by the modest recoil of the pistol, he had to take a step back, to recover his senses, to recuperate his spirits, after pulling the trigger. He shook his head violently, hoping such a frenzied and harsh jolt would in some way replicate the clearing effects of alcohol. At the same time, he brought his bad hand up to his head, soothing the unexpected splitting sensation, hoping such a tender sign of self-care with the less calloused fingers on his bad hand would in someway replicate the pain-killing effects of alcohol.
No luck, but adrenaline reared its ugly yet welcome head again, and Yags was able to reorient his senses.
Just in time to process the second bang that had rang through the air.
“Fuck you, Tammy Wiseau!” he yelled, hoping the cameras would pick up his carefully staged insult.
He was not one of those rare individuals who could keep his eyes open, maintain an unfazed demeanour, as he fired a gun. He had hurt his eyes somewhat, trying in his foolhardy state of intoxication to attempt such a feat. The attempts to force his eyes to remain open, against all logic and all sane rationality, took up far too much of his mental willpower.
Luckily, he didn’t need much motivation to aim at Ana and shoot her in the face.
Still, the concentration induced resulted in a flash of a more problematic headache hitting his temple. Luckily he had put off yelling his choice insult at her. A third task would have been one multi-tasking endeavour too much for Yagmur.
Combined with the cut on his good hand being agitated by the modest recoil of the pistol, he had to take a step back, to recover his senses, to recuperate his spirits, after pulling the trigger. He shook his head violently, hoping such a frenzied and harsh jolt would in some way replicate the clearing effects of alcohol. At the same time, he brought his bad hand up to his head, soothing the unexpected splitting sensation, hoping such a tender sign of self-care with the less calloused fingers on his bad hand would in someway replicate the pain-killing effects of alcohol.
No luck, but adrenaline reared its ugly yet welcome head again, and Yags was able to reorient his senses.
Just in time to process the second bang that had rang through the air.
“Fuck you, Tammy Wiseau!” he yelled, hoping the cameras would pick up his carefully staged insult.
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Lord_Shadow
- Posts: 536
- Joined: Thu Aug 09, 2018 2:43 am
- Team Affiliation: Emmy's Selkies
Pain. Lots and lots of pain. Something hit her. That much was clear. But this was the lie. This wasn't reality. So the pain wasn't real.
She opened her mouth to speak. But no words came out. Her breathing was slowing down. She collapsed to her knees, the gun fell from her hand. The sword came loose from the flimsy loop of cloth and cluttered to the floor. She looked up at Corin, at Yagmur.
"I"
She touched a hand to her chest.
She looked down at her blood stained fingertips. She smiled grimly. It was over, well and truly over. Two shots to the chest, she was dead in minutes. Maybe less.
She looked back up at Corin.
"Kill."
It was all she had left. All that she could say was hers. She closed her eyes.
"Me."
She opened her mouth to speak. But no words came out. Her breathing was slowing down. She collapsed to her knees, the gun fell from her hand. The sword came loose from the flimsy loop of cloth and cluttered to the floor. She looked up at Corin, at Yagmur.
"I"
She touched a hand to her chest.
She looked down at her blood stained fingertips. She smiled grimly. It was over, well and truly over. Two shots to the chest, she was dead in minutes. Maybe less.
She looked back up at Corin.
"Kill."
It was all she had left. All that she could say was hers. She closed her eyes.
"Me."
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.
((Permission from LS))
He wordlessly decided to oblige, picking up Cathryn’s gun without a word as he stood over Anarchy’s dying frame. He glanced down for a moment, the decision to plant his foot on her neck stemmed from the vitriol that was still running through his thoughts, pressuring the neck to deprive her of what little oxygenated blood was still running through her system. Though he didn’t know it, if he pressured hard enough the hyoid bone might crack.
But his heel never exerted enough pressure to go that far, as much as he would have liked to simply lift all his weight and drive it down on her neck and simply break it, his sprit simply couldn’t find the strength to do as much. His hands fumbled between his rifle and Cathryn’s gun, finally tucking his rifle under his arm as he pointed the new weapon down at Anarchy’s body.
Several shots rang through the building as he unceremoniously emptied it into her mass, and tossed the now useless weapon to the side with disgust. The sting in his shoulder began to return as his body began to recover from the recoil, his eardrums burning from the noise. He looked down at what he had done; perhaps confronting the damage that he had done to a physical being for the first time. He didn’t derive the sort of excitement from the sight of blood that she seemed to. He simply felt cold and alien as he watched it pool on the ground around them, and for that he was glad.
The gun he’d favoured returned to his grasp as he turned to look at Yagmur.
“My job is done.” He said.
He wordlessly decided to oblige, picking up Cathryn’s gun without a word as he stood over Anarchy’s dying frame. He glanced down for a moment, the decision to plant his foot on her neck stemmed from the vitriol that was still running through his thoughts, pressuring the neck to deprive her of what little oxygenated blood was still running through her system. Though he didn’t know it, if he pressured hard enough the hyoid bone might crack.
But his heel never exerted enough pressure to go that far, as much as he would have liked to simply lift all his weight and drive it down on her neck and simply break it, his sprit simply couldn’t find the strength to do as much. His hands fumbled between his rifle and Cathryn’s gun, finally tucking his rifle under his arm as he pointed the new weapon down at Anarchy’s body.
Several shots rang through the building as he unceremoniously emptied it into her mass, and tossed the now useless weapon to the side with disgust. The sting in his shoulder began to return as his body began to recover from the recoil, his eardrums burning from the noise. He looked down at what he had done; perhaps confronting the damage that he had done to a physical being for the first time. He didn’t derive the sort of excitement from the sight of blood that she seemed to. He simply felt cold and alien as he watched it pool on the ground around them, and for that he was glad.
The gun he’d favoured returned to his grasp as he turned to look at Yagmur.
“My job is done.” He said.
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General Goose
- Posts: 318
- Joined: Thu Aug 09, 2018 2:51 pm
Corin was distracted.
Yagmur could've.
Should've.
Would've.
But then Corin looked up, and it was far harder to pull a trigger at someone, with a recognisable face that represented a cordial and fundamentally decent personality, who by all accounts was unwarlike and amicable in that moment, who had just disposed of a mutually despised individual, who was in a moment of distracted wits and restful post-murder introspection.
"Well...sucks for her family, I guess." He paused, furrowing his brow. "Not because they lost a daughter. I mean, all our families are getting fucked in that sense."
"I mean that their daughter became such a rowdy shit."
He offered Corin the bottle. "You wanna talk for a bit, or get to the killing each other straight away? I'm agnostic on that front."
Yagmur could've.
Should've.
Would've.
But then Corin looked up, and it was far harder to pull a trigger at someone, with a recognisable face that represented a cordial and fundamentally decent personality, who by all accounts was unwarlike and amicable in that moment, who had just disposed of a mutually despised individual, who was in a moment of distracted wits and restful post-murder introspection.
"Well...sucks for her family, I guess." He paused, furrowing his brow. "Not because they lost a daughter. I mean, all our families are getting fucked in that sense."
"I mean that their daughter became such a rowdy shit."
He offered Corin the bottle. "You wanna talk for a bit, or get to the killing each other straight away? I'm agnostic on that front."
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Lord_Shadow
- Posts: 536
- Joined: Thu Aug 09, 2018 2:43 am
- Team Affiliation: Emmy's Selkies
Anastasia Arcadia had closed her eyes anticipating death. She waited for the darkness to take her. To join the ghosts that had been haunting her.
That did not happen.
She opened her eyes to an unfamiliar locale. Full of vivid and vibrant color, almost too much for her eyes. The landscape was familiar and yet utterly alien at the same time. She blinked and moved her arms. Both of them. Distinctly intact, both of them.
Another dream? Another lie to retreat to instead of just dealing with things. Typical of her, really.
"Nope. Not a dream. Not a hallucination. And both at the same time."
The voice surrounded her, permeated her being. It was hers and yet clearly not.
She stood, looked herself over. Her stupid dress was gone. OT3 shirt and jeans once again. It had been a while since she'd had them on.
"You feel more comfortable in that. You need to be, for what comes next."
And what did come next? Who was speaking to her? And why did this feel somehow more real than the other hallucinations ever had?
"A few answers. First, yes you are quite dead. Shot multiple times by the way. Just riddled with lead. Second, this place is real. Well, as real as any post death locale can be called. Third, despite using your voice I am not you."
Anastasia put a palm over her face. More convoluted bull from her psychosis was part for the course but this was getting ridiculous.
"Stop that. All of this is happening. I am ERIS. You know, goddess of discord and strife. Goddess whose incarnation you claimed to be. Lot of hubris in that. Some other deities might be content to just shunt you off to eternal torment and be done. But not me."
The possibility of this not being part of her mental issues was slowly becoming more real to her.
"You have some work to do. You made the claim. Now you gotta earn the title."
Shit.
Amelia-Marie Arcadia watched her sister finally stop running from the truth. She then watched her die. She rose from her seat, which she had not left since she began watching the broadcast, and dabbed at her still-wet-with-tears eyes. She walked out of her room, down the hall, and to her parents.
"So Anastasia just died." She announced. They had kept up with highlights, not willing to sit through the live show and watch her descent into madness unfiltered. "I've decided. From today on, even if she didn't believe in it herself, I will create the utopia she once desired."
Her parents stared at their youngest, dumbfounded.
Ams smiled back at them. "AnArchy never dies."
Ana's body bled out on the ground. Her arm was a mess. Her dress was matted with blood, the skirt nearly ribbons below her knees. Her torso full of now spent bullets. Her heart having taken two. Her eyes were still closed. She hadn't opened them even as she was stepped on, and shot.
Her grim smile had turned to a frown. A creased and furrowed brow accompanied it. She looked mad as she died. She felt mad, in her final moments. The last thought that went through her head, before the strength left her completely, summed up her entire philosophy.
I was so... stupid.
AnArchy awoke on the floor of the theater. She knew exactry what was going on. Eris told her that she was to earn the title she claimed. And when a goddess commanded you to do something, you did it.
"Fuck me. Hell would have been kinder."
Sow chaos, discord, strife. Go through every possible random permutation of her life. The ups and downs. Make the downs fun, make the ups 'fun'. In every world and every universe she could possibly exist in. Every. Last. One.
"Would've been kinder."
Her face changed when she had her last thought. Her frown disappeared. A smile did not replace it.
Her expression was stoic now.
•_•
AE3: ANASTASIA ARCADIA - ELIMINATED
That did not happen.
She opened her eyes to an unfamiliar locale. Full of vivid and vibrant color, almost too much for her eyes. The landscape was familiar and yet utterly alien at the same time. She blinked and moved her arms. Both of them. Distinctly intact, both of them.
Another dream? Another lie to retreat to instead of just dealing with things. Typical of her, really.
"Nope. Not a dream. Not a hallucination. And both at the same time."
The voice surrounded her, permeated her being. It was hers and yet clearly not.
She stood, looked herself over. Her stupid dress was gone. OT3 shirt and jeans once again. It had been a while since she'd had them on.
"You feel more comfortable in that. You need to be, for what comes next."
And what did come next? Who was speaking to her? And why did this feel somehow more real than the other hallucinations ever had?
"A few answers. First, yes you are quite dead. Shot multiple times by the way. Just riddled with lead. Second, this place is real. Well, as real as any post death locale can be called. Third, despite using your voice I am not you."
Anastasia put a palm over her face. More convoluted bull from her psychosis was part for the course but this was getting ridiculous.
"Stop that. All of this is happening. I am ERIS. You know, goddess of discord and strife. Goddess whose incarnation you claimed to be. Lot of hubris in that. Some other deities might be content to just shunt you off to eternal torment and be done. But not me."
The possibility of this not being part of her mental issues was slowly becoming more real to her.
"You have some work to do. You made the claim. Now you gotta earn the title."
Shit.
Amelia-Marie Arcadia watched her sister finally stop running from the truth. She then watched her die. She rose from her seat, which she had not left since she began watching the broadcast, and dabbed at her still-wet-with-tears eyes. She walked out of her room, down the hall, and to her parents.
"So Anastasia just died." She announced. They had kept up with highlights, not willing to sit through the live show and watch her descent into madness unfiltered. "I've decided. From today on, even if she didn't believe in it herself, I will create the utopia she once desired."
Her parents stared at their youngest, dumbfounded.
Ams smiled back at them. "AnArchy never dies."
Ana's body bled out on the ground. Her arm was a mess. Her dress was matted with blood, the skirt nearly ribbons below her knees. Her torso full of now spent bullets. Her heart having taken two. Her eyes were still closed. She hadn't opened them even as she was stepped on, and shot.
Her grim smile had turned to a frown. A creased and furrowed brow accompanied it. She looked mad as she died. She felt mad, in her final moments. The last thought that went through her head, before the strength left her completely, summed up her entire philosophy.
I was so... stupid.
AnArchy awoke on the floor of the theater. She knew exactry what was going on. Eris told her that she was to earn the title she claimed. And when a goddess commanded you to do something, you did it.
"Fuck me. Hell would have been kinder."
Sow chaos, discord, strife. Go through every possible random permutation of her life. The ups and downs. Make the downs fun, make the ups 'fun'. In every world and every universe she could possibly exist in. Every. Last. One.
"Would've been kinder."
Her face changed when she had her last thought. Her frown disappeared. A smile did not replace it.
Her expression was stoic now.
•_•
AE3: ANASTASIA ARCADIA - ELIMINATED
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 didn’t really know what to say to Yagmur at first, he was angry with him. Angry because Corin genuinely thought he was going to die for that moment when he’d fired the gun, if he hadn’t of been so close to anarchy he probably would have missed her with his own shot. But it wasn’t like he could viably complain to Yagmur, if Yagmur had shot him or tried to he was simply playing the game, Corin would probably have done the same. It was something that really made him question why he hadn’t already.
Now he was talking about things that Corin didn’t care for, or at least didn’t want to care for.
“That’s life, sometimes you raise a feral child and it gets out of its pen.” He responded sardonically as he stepped off Anarchy, dragging his feet on the carpet as he tried to wipe the blood from the bottom of his shoes.
“I think I’ll leave worrying about other’s families to the winner, personally.” He said as he scratched the side of his face, he internally noted that his hands smelled an awful lot like the lead residue of the gun. He disliked it.
He looked a little pale, even if he was trying to hide it, killing Anarchy executioner style was another visible toll on his already worn psyche. The worst part was that killing her didn’t satisfy the howling, anger or pain in his spirit, it didn’t make the vindictiveness fade away. It just left him unsatisfied in some sort of capacity that he couldn’t put to words or hope to convey. That uneasy feeling in his stomach quietly urged him to dry heave, but he managed to keep it down. He didn't want to show it bothered him more than he had to.
“If you’re ready, I’m ready.” He responded past his careworn expression.
For a moment he considered taking the bottle, his eyes lingered on it before he finally raised a hand to indicate that he would pass.
Now he was talking about things that Corin didn’t care for, or at least didn’t want to care for.
“That’s life, sometimes you raise a feral child and it gets out of its pen.” He responded sardonically as he stepped off Anarchy, dragging his feet on the carpet as he tried to wipe the blood from the bottom of his shoes.
“I think I’ll leave worrying about other’s families to the winner, personally.” He said as he scratched the side of his face, he internally noted that his hands smelled an awful lot like the lead residue of the gun. He disliked it.
He looked a little pale, even if he was trying to hide it, killing Anarchy executioner style was another visible toll on his already worn psyche. The worst part was that killing her didn’t satisfy the howling, anger or pain in his spirit, it didn’t make the vindictiveness fade away. It just left him unsatisfied in some sort of capacity that he couldn’t put to words or hope to convey. That uneasy feeling in his stomach quietly urged him to dry heave, but he managed to keep it down. He didn't want to show it bothered him more than he had to.
“If you’re ready, I’m ready.” He responded past his careworn expression.
For a moment he considered taking the bottle, his eyes lingered on it before he finally raised a hand to indicate that he would pass.
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General Goose
- Posts: 318
- Joined: Thu Aug 09, 2018 2:51 pm
"Aye."
Truth be told, Yagmur wasn't really worrying much about Ana's feelings. He did not have much compassion or empathy to spare in that moment, and that which he did have was best used on those closest to him. Still, showing even perfunctory sympathy was just what society had deemed to be the done thing.
Just as society now accepted bloodsports.
Who was he to stand against the result of a free society? To try and break social conventions? He could try, definitely, but he had learnt such efforts were in vain.
And he no longer had the energy to care about his principles. Whatever they had been.
"Well, I'd rather...I guess neither of us in a hurry to die, so I see no need to rush into it."
He paused.
"Sorry about Anzu."
Once again, it was just perfunctory.
Hopefully Corin would return the favour. How, Yags no longer knew.
Truth be told, Yagmur wasn't really worrying much about Ana's feelings. He did not have much compassion or empathy to spare in that moment, and that which he did have was best used on those closest to him. Still, showing even perfunctory sympathy was just what society had deemed to be the done thing.
Just as society now accepted bloodsports.
Who was he to stand against the result of a free society? To try and break social conventions? He could try, definitely, but he had learnt such efforts were in vain.
And he no longer had the energy to care about his principles. Whatever they had been.
"Well, I'd rather...I guess neither of us in a hurry to die, so I see no need to rush into it."
He paused.
"Sorry about Anzu."
Once again, it was just perfunctory.
Hopefully Corin would return the favour. How, Yags no longer knew.
Corin was slow to respond, contemplative. His mind wasn’t going anywhere good, and the mention of Anzu just reeled his mind back to where he should have been.
It had been all for her.
Is what he could have said, if he felt he were a man of any sort of purpose and integrity. But in truth, he’d mostly forgotten about Anzu in his blind pursuit, as he ran forward he was just looking to bury his thoughts along with an acceptable target. Now that he had finished off Anarchy it was becoming readily apparent that there was nothing left.
I don’t care, he thought.
He shut his eyes and repeated: I don’t care.
I don’t care.
I don’t.
Then why did he feel so sick? Tired, maybe just waiting, hoping that somewhere along the way that he would simply shrink away and be left as nothing. But everything just persisted, his frenetic thoughts, being, everything, just cried out to exist and be seen – for his ache and pain to be acknowledged. And yet the only being left to communicate with him was…
He glanced up at Yagmur, his apology, he’d left him waiting.
Though he didn’t know it yet, it was just the two of them in this world, and more corpses than he dared to count. Corin had lied, about a few things, but mostly about not being in a hurry to end what was happening. And it was time to keep that ball rolling.
“I’m not Anzu,” he simply responded.
“And you’re not Bella,” He continued, “But if you want me to extend the apology, it’s there.”
Hell, he thought, he wasn’t even himself anymore. He simply was, nothing more.
As he glanced around the area, he already knew that from this range that the probability of death was very high. He barely even considered running, taking cover, all of that. It slowly didn’t matter anymore, safety, looking after self. He simply decided that he was going to plant himself right where he was and just let it all flow until it came to an end.
“How long are you planning to rest?” He asked softly.
He quietly contemplated taking Yagmur with him.
It had been all for her.
Is what he could have said, if he felt he were a man of any sort of purpose and integrity. But in truth, he’d mostly forgotten about Anzu in his blind pursuit, as he ran forward he was just looking to bury his thoughts along with an acceptable target. Now that he had finished off Anarchy it was becoming readily apparent that there was nothing left.
I don’t care, he thought.
He shut his eyes and repeated: I don’t care.
I don’t care.
I don’t.
Then why did he feel so sick? Tired, maybe just waiting, hoping that somewhere along the way that he would simply shrink away and be left as nothing. But everything just persisted, his frenetic thoughts, being, everything, just cried out to exist and be seen – for his ache and pain to be acknowledged. And yet the only being left to communicate with him was…
He glanced up at Yagmur, his apology, he’d left him waiting.
Though he didn’t know it yet, it was just the two of them in this world, and more corpses than he dared to count. Corin had lied, about a few things, but mostly about not being in a hurry to end what was happening. And it was time to keep that ball rolling.
“I’m not Anzu,” he simply responded.
“And you’re not Bella,” He continued, “But if you want me to extend the apology, it’s there.”
Hell, he thought, he wasn’t even himself anymore. He simply was, nothing more.
As he glanced around the area, he already knew that from this range that the probability of death was very high. He barely even considered running, taking cover, all of that. It slowly didn’t matter anymore, safety, looking after self. He simply decided that he was going to plant himself right where he was and just let it all flow until it came to an end.
“How long are you planning to rest?” He asked softly.
He quietly contemplated taking Yagmur with him.
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General Goose
- Posts: 318
- Joined: Thu Aug 09, 2018 2:51 pm
Yagmur had not even been thinking about Bella.
With the artificial intimacy and proximity of the Resort, with the hastened awareness it gave those around you about the nature of your true character, he guessed he had grown attached to her far quicker than he normally would anyone. And the moment she had died and the finale had begun...
The closeness, or at least the perceived closeness, they had had quickly disappeared into a footnote when more immediate things had demanded his attention.
Did that make Yags a bad person? For forgetting her so quickly?
For forgetting everyone so quickly?
He looked down at the floor in morose rumination. But after a second, forced his eyes back up. Mournful contemplation was a luxury he could ill-afford.
"Thanks," was the reply he opted for. Contesting Corin's half-apology was something he had no interest in doing. Manners, etiquette, an ethical thought process, properly paying mental dues to the dead and left-behind in a way nobody could appreciate despite the cameras...he had no time for any of that.
It'd be a moral placebo at best, to try and retroactively correct his way of thinking, to show more consideration for those left behind.
"I...I wouldn't call it resting." He walked over to a bar, standing behind it, putting some solid wood between him and Corin. Cover. Bullets would penetrate it, sure, but Corin would be unable to tell where he was.
"But for a bit."
With the artificial intimacy and proximity of the Resort, with the hastened awareness it gave those around you about the nature of your true character, he guessed he had grown attached to her far quicker than he normally would anyone. And the moment she had died and the finale had begun...
The closeness, or at least the perceived closeness, they had had quickly disappeared into a footnote when more immediate things had demanded his attention.
Did that make Yags a bad person? For forgetting her so quickly?
For forgetting everyone so quickly?
He looked down at the floor in morose rumination. But after a second, forced his eyes back up. Mournful contemplation was a luxury he could ill-afford.
"Thanks," was the reply he opted for. Contesting Corin's half-apology was something he had no interest in doing. Manners, etiquette, an ethical thought process, properly paying mental dues to the dead and left-behind in a way nobody could appreciate despite the cameras...he had no time for any of that.
It'd be a moral placebo at best, to try and retroactively correct his way of thinking, to show more consideration for those left behind.
"I...I wouldn't call it resting." He walked over to a bar, standing behind it, putting some solid wood between him and Corin. Cover. Bullets would penetrate it, sure, but Corin would be unable to tell where he was.
"But for a bit."
There truly wasn’t anything left to draw from this situation for Corin, they’d probably exhausted all options for conversation in the time that they had been together. Corin eyed Yagmur warily as he made his way to the bar, but didn’t make any effort to stop him from stepping behind the bar. In the end it was a slab of wood, he’d seen bullets rip through rows of poker machines; it was comparable to the time he’d hidden behind the shelves in the sunshine tower. If either of them made it out without getting shot it would be through the virtue of good luck.
He could only wonder if Yagmur was just padding things out to avoid the inevitable for as long as possible. Or if he was being short sighted and simply chasing after more alcohol. Corin wasn’t really sure at that moment. Beyond the bar not much seemed to be serviceable cover, chairs, and tables, all as good as cardboard in the face of any sort of ballistics. He supposed he would have to get mobile and hope for the best.
“For a bit,what?” Corin asked, “More drinking?”
He could only wonder if Yagmur was just padding things out to avoid the inevitable for as long as possible. Or if he was being short sighted and simply chasing after more alcohol. Corin wasn’t really sure at that moment. Beyond the bar not much seemed to be serviceable cover, chairs, and tables, all as good as cardboard in the face of any sort of ballistics. He supposed he would have to get mobile and hope for the best.
“For a bit,what?” Corin asked, “More drinking?”
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General Goose
- Posts: 318
- Joined: Thu Aug 09, 2018 2:51 pm
"Nothing wrong with more drinking."
Yagmur looked down, out of Corin's sight, at his good hand. The cut from the baconnaise jar shards - not massively deep, but enough to hurt the movement of his thumb and the precise articulation of his fingers - was still raw, red, would probably be infected were it not for the large amounts of alcohol spillover probably washing over it.
That was how it worked, as far as Yags knew.
But still, it was his good hand. He pulled out the pistol. It still had most of its bullets in the chamber. Magazine. Handle. Cartridge. Whatever. He normally knew gun terminology.
Placed it on an easy-to-reach shelf, still below the bar. Pulled out a glass, offered it to Corin. It'd be cover for his real actions. A gesture of hospitality.
"Sure you don't want one?"
He placed the glass on the table, poured some whiskey into it.
And gently wrapped his hand around the gun, the only tell being his grimace as the cut stretched and ached.
Yagmur looked down, out of Corin's sight, at his good hand. The cut from the baconnaise jar shards - not massively deep, but enough to hurt the movement of his thumb and the precise articulation of his fingers - was still raw, red, would probably be infected were it not for the large amounts of alcohol spillover probably washing over it.
That was how it worked, as far as Yags knew.
But still, it was his good hand. He pulled out the pistol. It still had most of its bullets in the chamber. Magazine. Handle. Cartridge. Whatever. He normally knew gun terminology.
Placed it on an easy-to-reach shelf, still below the bar. Pulled out a glass, offered it to Corin. It'd be cover for his real actions. A gesture of hospitality.
"Sure you don't want one?"
He placed the glass on the table, poured some whiskey into it.
And gently wrapped his hand around the gun, the only tell being his grimace as the cut stretched and ached.
He rolled his eyes at the initial response; it seemed that all they could talk about really was alcohol. Still, he guessed that for some reason they were going to keep trying to pretend. He moved to a table, leaning his back on it as he spoke to Yagmur.
“Alcohol, guns and I probably don’t mix.” He responded, “Plus, you never know when some dickhead might come charging through. Someone ought to be ready, right?”
As he said that last sentence he pulled back the bolt and let the spent shell eject from his rifle, pushing it back into place as he started to gauge Yagmur’s expression. He did it as if to punctuate the sentence, place emphasis on that. He honestly didn’t know whether Yagmur would see that as a threat, or if he even cared. He could feel a hard lump in his throat as that pre-fight tenseness burned through his senses. They both knew that they each had guns, though Yagmur wasn’t privy to the fact that Corin had two.
Still, he was actually sick of rebuffing the offers of alcohol, but he observed Yagmur as he poured the glass and reached downward only to grimace. For a second he was going to ask what had happened there, but as his mouth started to open he restrained the words.
It was going to be inconsequential to one of them soon anyway.
“Alcohol, guns and I probably don’t mix.” He responded, “Plus, you never know when some dickhead might come charging through. Someone ought to be ready, right?”
As he said that last sentence he pulled back the bolt and let the spent shell eject from his rifle, pushing it back into place as he started to gauge Yagmur’s expression. He did it as if to punctuate the sentence, place emphasis on that. He honestly didn’t know whether Yagmur would see that as a threat, or if he even cared. He could feel a hard lump in his throat as that pre-fight tenseness burned through his senses. They both knew that they each had guns, though Yagmur wasn’t privy to the fact that Corin had two.
Still, he was actually sick of rebuffing the offers of alcohol, but he observed Yagmur as he poured the glass and reached downward only to grimace. For a second he was going to ask what had happened there, but as his mouth started to open he restrained the words.
It was going to be inconsequential to one of them soon anyway.