For a long while, Fisher wasn't sure why he was even carrying the second bag. Aimlessly, he'd wandered the roads of wherever this was, wherever the here and now that the Americans had brought them to truly was. The language on the walls and the signage seemed Mexican, Spanish, or something like that. Mexico, it was probably Mexico - them and Canada had fallen a long time ago to the Americans, so it made sense. It was an odd tidbit to recall, having quick recollection of facts and figures wasn't exactly his strong suit. He'd never been the guy who could conjure up a whole textbook's worth of knowledge in one conversation. Fisher was more the guy who'd know one or two neat facts and then sit back and let the encyclopaedias duke it out.
This was all nice to think about, but it only distracted him from the other things he saw when he shut his eyes.
Namely, Freya.
Dying in his arms.
((Fisher Darden continued from Everyone's Got Their Own Circle Of Sorrow))
Casa del Diablo was the name on the sign out front, and Fisher had barely given silence a second thought as he'd kicked the door open to wander in. At this point, what did it matter? If someone was going to kill him, they were just going to get it over with already. He was armed with a wobbly piece of laminate paper whose soothing wobbles no longer made him feel the least bit better. Barring him having an encounter with someone who had a fatal allergy to certain types of sonic frequencies, he was unarmed and easy pickings for any predators wandering the area. Thankfully, there'd been no one inside to make that decision, and so he'd just wandered over towards the bar area and tossed his two bags down onto the larger corner section. Grabbing a stool, he pulled it over and sat down.
Great. He sighed to himself. Now what?
Fisher was about to put his hands to his eyes and rub them when he finally saw them. The world had barely seemed real since he'd left Freya; he'd been so stuck in his own mind that it was no wonder he hadn't noticed.
His hands were still stained with Freya's blood.
Slightly aghast, he looked down at himself - holy shit, it was everywhere. As she'd been bleeding out, Fisher had tried his best. God dammit, he'd tried so hard to stop it, but all he'd succeeded doing was giving her a few extra moments to flip Pippa off and truly have the last word. As a byproduct, her blood now stained his blazer, his pants, his hands... it wasn't a great look.
"Fucking hell."
He let his head sink down to the flat surface of the bar, surprisingly devoid of the dust that he would have expected there'd be. His forehead felt nice against the cool surface of the old bar. Someone else had obviously been through here. But that was how it was going to go. Classmates of his coming and going, some trying to survive while others tried to kill. Fisher wondered how many there were left, now. There hadn't been too many to begin with, and it seemed like every day, someone else fell to the depths of depravity.
This was nice. Just sitting here, closing his eyes. If he let his mind wander far enough, he could imagine that he was sitting in his kitchen at home, head resting against his own kitchen counter.
Unfortunately he didn't have very far to wander before reality opened his kitchen window and made its presence felt again.
Opening his eyes, he sighed again. He should wash his hands. People would be less likely to shoot him if he didn't look like he'd taken a shower in someone else's blood. Scanning the bar for a sink, he didn't see one in the immediate vicinity. Would it even still work? There were so many questions Fisher could ask, but he didn't have an answer for any of them. He supposed that getting up to look might have been smart, but he didn't move a muscle. He needed a few minutes to rest. To think. To truly plan what his next move was.
Galahad had been the one thing Freya had allowed herself before she'd passed on. So that was mission number one. Find Galahad and hope that he wasn't now a psycho killer who wanted to feast upon his skin. Knowing him as he did, Fisher doubted it. Galahad was more the cry and fetal position sort of dude; which he meant with all of the respect in the world. He could identify.
After that? Well, one thing came to mind, but it wasn't something he was ready to consider. He'd have to go through a lot more hell to get to that point, that was for sure. That option wasn't one that reasonable, rational people considered. For the time being, as scared and as damaged as he was feeling, he was still rational. Still reasonable.
At least if he did snap and decide that it was time to join the bloodthirsty mob, finding a way to put Pippa Andolini into the ground for good would be a great place to start.
"That'll be the day, Fish. That'll be the fuckin' day."
Fisher sighed disparagingly at himself. He was no more capable of turning into a murderous vigilante than he was of turning into Santa Claus. Which left him back at square one; alone in a bar with no one to talk to, no one to listen to, not even any alcohol to help him drown away his sorrows.
Just a whole lot of nothing.
Sing Us A Song; You're the Piano Man
open
-
Primrosette
- Posts: 902
- Joined: Wed Aug 08, 2018 1:59 pm
- Location: In Her Dark Abyss
Tiny was staring at the Casa Del Diablo sign in front of his eyes and he felt like his body was about to pass out from the exhaustion. He remembered that he had not slept for god knows how long. But he couldn't fall asleep yet. He had just barely seen Fisher from behind making his way into there. It looked like the guy was alone too.
Tiny felt a smirk form onto his face and he took a deep breath. Inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale.
He had to play the role of the nicer guy. Even if Fisher heard his name on the announcement. He had to play it cool. He didn't want Fisher to get suspicious of him right away. Be the good guy for a little while, huh?
Well, this was going to be hard.
((Tiny Sterling continued from Cake By The Ocean))
Tiny was still holding the pitchfork down by his side and he had Penny's gun in his bag as a back-up in case things did not work up. He then opened the door and he went strolling into the pub so casually. He looked around at his surroundings and then he spotted where Fisher was.
His smile had turned into a smaller one to make it look like he was more or less concerned.
"Hey, Fisher. You alright there, bud?"
Tiny felt a smirk form onto his face and he took a deep breath. Inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale.
He had to play the role of the nicer guy. Even if Fisher heard his name on the announcement. He had to play it cool. He didn't want Fisher to get suspicious of him right away. Be the good guy for a little while, huh?
Well, this was going to be hard.
((Tiny Sterling continued from Cake By The Ocean))
Tiny was still holding the pitchfork down by his side and he had Penny's gun in his bag as a back-up in case things did not work up. He then opened the door and he went strolling into the pub so casually. He looked around at his surroundings and then he spotted where Fisher was.
His smile had turned into a smaller one to make it look like he was more or less concerned.
"Hey, Fisher. You alright there, bud?"
-
Cactus
- Posts: 295
- Joined: Tue Aug 07, 2018 6:25 pm
- Location: Toronto, Canada
- Team Affiliation: Malcolm's Mariners
Fisher had been sitting at the bar, his arms tented in front of him, hands pinching the bridge of his nose and enjoying the solitary nature of this particular moment. For however long the rest of his life was going to be, he wanted to make sure that he had at least one more moment alone with his thoughts. When he heard the doors open across the room, he didn't instinctively open his eyes. He supposed that whomever was joining him could only have been one of a finite number of people. Maybe he'd get lucky - maybe it'd be Galahad. Yesterday he'd told Pippa and Freya that he'd love to see Daniel Newhouse again; Dan no longer possessed the ability to walk through that door and join him. Dan no longer possessed the ability to do much of anything.
Dan no longer existed.
So as he opened his eyes, pretty much hoping at this point that it was anyone but Pippa, he had to say that in that regard, he'd been right. Unfortunately, the recognition of the face - and the voice - put another bad feeling in the pit of his stomach. Tiny wasn't the worst person in the entire world to be around, and on any other day he might have rolled the dice and told him to come on over, pull up a chair, but this wasn't any other day, and Tiny wasn't any other person. He was the same Tiny that had been identified as a killer. What had they said - he'd impaled Penny with something? Fisher sized Tiny up as he walked into the room. He held a wicked-looking pitchfork.
There was the farming tool.
"Oh yeah, just fuckin' peachy."
Fisher didn't make any sudden movements, but slowly turned on his stool to face Tiny. If he had to put any distance between the two of them, he wanted to be able to do so, in a hurry.
God, this really was his life now.
"Nothing like watching your friends die to get the blood flowing, am I right?"
His voice was thick was sarcasm, though he quickly paled as he realized the double-meaning behind his words. It also then occurred to him that he was still covered in Freya's blood. Fisher grimaced.
"Literally. Fuck."
Dan no longer existed.
So as he opened his eyes, pretty much hoping at this point that it was anyone but Pippa, he had to say that in that regard, he'd been right. Unfortunately, the recognition of the face - and the voice - put another bad feeling in the pit of his stomach. Tiny wasn't the worst person in the entire world to be around, and on any other day he might have rolled the dice and told him to come on over, pull up a chair, but this wasn't any other day, and Tiny wasn't any other person. He was the same Tiny that had been identified as a killer. What had they said - he'd impaled Penny with something? Fisher sized Tiny up as he walked into the room. He held a wicked-looking pitchfork.
There was the farming tool.
"Oh yeah, just fuckin' peachy."
Fisher didn't make any sudden movements, but slowly turned on his stool to face Tiny. If he had to put any distance between the two of them, he wanted to be able to do so, in a hurry.
God, this really was his life now.
"Nothing like watching your friends die to get the blood flowing, am I right?"
His voice was thick was sarcasm, though he quickly paled as he realized the double-meaning behind his words. It also then occurred to him that he was still covered in Freya's blood. Fisher grimaced.
"Literally. Fuck."
-
Primrosette
- Posts: 902
- Joined: Wed Aug 08, 2018 1:59 pm
- Location: In Her Dark Abyss
Well, it seemed like Fisher was not in the mood to see him at all. Not that Tiny could blame the guy. Who the fuck would want to be in the same room as a killer? Tiny thought back to Oliver on the beach and he had to resist the urge to roll his eyes. His distaste and dislike for that guy was strong for what he had done to Anvi. He was now wondering if that was what Galahad had thought of him. He had killed Penny who had been Galahad's friend and well.... He knew what Rajni had thought of him. Now that he was looking at Fisher, the guy looked like he was about to bail at any moment.
He then did a double-take at the blood that was on Fisher.
"Fuckin' hell!"
Tiny wasn't really sure how to respond after Fisher's response and the guy really looked like he was going into some shock or some shit like that. Tiny knew that sooner or later there was a chance that he might have to do something that he shouldn't. But right now.... Fisher seemed like he just needed someone to talk to. First, he had to put down the pitchfork and then he would have to keep himself back from Fisher until he wanted Tiny to come closer.
"Shit, man. Alright, alright. That's.... pretty fucked up, not gonna lie." Tiny said in an exhausted tone of voice and he shifted slightly to put the pitchfork down on top of the piano. He still had the gun in his bag if things didn't work out. He turned to look back at Fisher and carefully just took one step forward, making sure that he didn't look scary as shit or something. "Look, I'm sorry. I didn't know that you saw a friend die and I don't want to start a fight right now. I'm fuckin' done with all of this shit...!"
That was a lie. Tiny was going to do whatever it took to survive for as long as he could. Friends? Who gave a fucking fuck about friends right now? This was about survival and friends were going to get in the way of that. Still, Fisher did not need to know what he really thought on the inside.
"So uh.... Who was it? Who died?"
He then did a double-take at the blood that was on Fisher.
"Fuckin' hell!"
Tiny wasn't really sure how to respond after Fisher's response and the guy really looked like he was going into some shock or some shit like that. Tiny knew that sooner or later there was a chance that he might have to do something that he shouldn't. But right now.... Fisher seemed like he just needed someone to talk to. First, he had to put down the pitchfork and then he would have to keep himself back from Fisher until he wanted Tiny to come closer.
"Shit, man. Alright, alright. That's.... pretty fucked up, not gonna lie." Tiny said in an exhausted tone of voice and he shifted slightly to put the pitchfork down on top of the piano. He still had the gun in his bag if things didn't work out. He turned to look back at Fisher and carefully just took one step forward, making sure that he didn't look scary as shit or something. "Look, I'm sorry. I didn't know that you saw a friend die and I don't want to start a fight right now. I'm fuckin' done with all of this shit...!"
That was a lie. Tiny was going to do whatever it took to survive for as long as he could. Friends? Who gave a fucking fuck about friends right now? This was about survival and friends were going to get in the way of that. Still, Fisher did not need to know what he really thought on the inside.
"So uh.... Who was it? Who died?"
-
Cactus
- Posts: 295
- Joined: Tue Aug 07, 2018 6:25 pm
- Location: Toronto, Canada
- Team Affiliation: Malcolm's Mariners
Fisher couldn't help but follow Tiny's movements, every single one a window into what his classmate could be thinking. In another lifetime, they'd probably have shot the shit, had a few minutes of polite conversation and been on their way. In another lifetime, Fisher wouldn't be covered in blood and Tiny wouldn't have at least one body on his conscience. But they weren't in another lifetime right now.
They were in this one, and it was all they had.
Now, more than ever, he was acutely aware of that.
Sighing, he shifted positions on the stool, slightly more comfortable but with his weight on his right leg in case he had to dart away. The farming tool was now sitting on the piano, which meant that it wasn't in Tiny's hands, but who knew what else he might have on his person. There was no letting your guard down - not now, and maybe not ever again.
"Who died?" He blinked, almost in surprise as a myriad of names entered his mind. "Fucking everybody died, man."
But that wasn't the question, and he wasn't going to be an asshole, so he looked at his hands for a moment before looking back up at Tiny.
"The blood is Freya Nygård's." A beat. He felt far away. "She bled to death in my arms."
There was no more looking away from Tiny, no more glances around the room or at his bloody hands. He'd asked, so fuck it - Fisher would tell him. He felt something winding up within him, and before he knew it, it all got away from him.
"Who died? How about Lena? Lena, who fucking killed someone, who we tried to chase away, fucking fell through the wharf, just out of my reach. Impaled on an old wooden beam. Couldn't do anything about it. Just felt her slipping away."
Fisher's eyes went glassy, as though he'd tuned out of this reality, but his voice stayed steady. "Barry; he died. So did Rue, so did Dan, so did fucking Morton. All of them, dead and gone." His flat expression turned sour and some bile entered his voice.
"Or what about Penny, hm? She died too. Though I guess you'd know all about that." Fisher's eye twitched.
"You too. Sure, you're still moving, but how alive can you really be, running around knowing that you were the reason someone else isn't breathing anymore? So if that counts, I guess you're dead as well. Pippa, she's obviously dead inside but we all knew she was a fucking ice queen from day one. Oliver, Victoria, everyone else who's gone and started buying in, started killing. Everybody's dead already."
He stood up slowly, and shook his head. The disgust had left his voice, now everything about him just screamed fatigue. "Doesn't even matter if you're the last one left. The Yanks aren't going to let you live. I know that; dammit man, you should too. You, me, all of them?"
Fisher looked down at the floor of the bar. It was dusty, dirty, and full of footprints.
"We were dead the day they snatched us up. We just don't know it yet."
Wow, that was a nihilistic bent that his mind had taken, and Fisher was reeling from holding all of it in. Perhaps Freya's demise had hit him harder than he'd realized. The hopelessness of the situation had really done a number on his optimism, and he reeled a little at the diatribe he'd thrown at Tiny. Blinking a bit, he felt lighter now that it was all off his chest. There was another feeling, though.
There was silence in the room for a long moment.
"Sorry, dude. Long day."
More silence; an elephant had moved in while Fisher had spat his diatribe at Tiny and there was no use ignoring it. So he sauntered right up and stared it in the face. Rooted in place, he made eye contact with Tiny.
"So," he said casually, "you here to kill me?"
They were in this one, and it was all they had.
Now, more than ever, he was acutely aware of that.
Sighing, he shifted positions on the stool, slightly more comfortable but with his weight on his right leg in case he had to dart away. The farming tool was now sitting on the piano, which meant that it wasn't in Tiny's hands, but who knew what else he might have on his person. There was no letting your guard down - not now, and maybe not ever again.
"Who died?" He blinked, almost in surprise as a myriad of names entered his mind. "Fucking everybody died, man."
But that wasn't the question, and he wasn't going to be an asshole, so he looked at his hands for a moment before looking back up at Tiny.
"The blood is Freya Nygård's." A beat. He felt far away. "She bled to death in my arms."
There was no more looking away from Tiny, no more glances around the room or at his bloody hands. He'd asked, so fuck it - Fisher would tell him. He felt something winding up within him, and before he knew it, it all got away from him.
"Who died? How about Lena? Lena, who fucking killed someone, who we tried to chase away, fucking fell through the wharf, just out of my reach. Impaled on an old wooden beam. Couldn't do anything about it. Just felt her slipping away."
Fisher's eyes went glassy, as though he'd tuned out of this reality, but his voice stayed steady. "Barry; he died. So did Rue, so did Dan, so did fucking Morton. All of them, dead and gone." His flat expression turned sour and some bile entered his voice.
"Or what about Penny, hm? She died too. Though I guess you'd know all about that." Fisher's eye twitched.
"You too. Sure, you're still moving, but how alive can you really be, running around knowing that you were the reason someone else isn't breathing anymore? So if that counts, I guess you're dead as well. Pippa, she's obviously dead inside but we all knew she was a fucking ice queen from day one. Oliver, Victoria, everyone else who's gone and started buying in, started killing. Everybody's dead already."
He stood up slowly, and shook his head. The disgust had left his voice, now everything about him just screamed fatigue. "Doesn't even matter if you're the last one left. The Yanks aren't going to let you live. I know that; dammit man, you should too. You, me, all of them?"
Fisher looked down at the floor of the bar. It was dusty, dirty, and full of footprints.
"We were dead the day they snatched us up. We just don't know it yet."
Wow, that was a nihilistic bent that his mind had taken, and Fisher was reeling from holding all of it in. Perhaps Freya's demise had hit him harder than he'd realized. The hopelessness of the situation had really done a number on his optimism, and he reeled a little at the diatribe he'd thrown at Tiny. Blinking a bit, he felt lighter now that it was all off his chest. There was another feeling, though.
There was silence in the room for a long moment.
"Sorry, dude. Long day."
More silence; an elephant had moved in while Fisher had spat his diatribe at Tiny and there was no use ignoring it. So he sauntered right up and stared it in the face. Rooted in place, he made eye contact with Tiny.
"So," he said casually, "you here to kill me?"
-
Primrosette
- Posts: 902
- Joined: Wed Aug 08, 2018 1:59 pm
- Location: In Her Dark Abyss
Tiny could only stay quiet as Fisher was talking about everything that had happened to him and to everyone else. Well, shit. Freya was dead. And now Galahad was going to lose his shit over that. Still, someone dying in Fisher's arms. That.... Tiny couldn't imagine that happening to him. But still Fisher going through that. Fuck, that really, really sucked so badly.
More dead people were mentioned. Lena. Who had been a killer who Fisher had been trying to turn away and save at the same time...? Tiny thought of Oliver for a second and then pushed him out of his mind. He focused back on Fisher who was rambling on and on and on.
Tiny waited. And waited. And waited.
Then Fisher was apologizing to him. Why the hell was he doing that? Tiny didn't want to find more guilt on his mind. Trying to keep the act up of being a piece of shit was getting harder and harder to do in Fisher's presence. He knew that they were all fucked. What even happened to the winners? He didn't fucking know.
Tiny stared at Fisher longer in silence as Fisher asked him the question that he didn't want to hear so soon and he was mulled over how he could respond to the other boy about it. "No. No, I don't want to kill you, you idiot." Tiny said in a more frustrated manner and he wondered if he just made himself look like a fool in front of Fisher. "Unless you want to fuckin' die. Because you keep goin' on about it. Look, I just want to survive as long as I can. Penny's death.... Penny...."
Tiny felt the words die from his mouth and then he decided that he didn't like this distance between him and Fisher. Okay, he did say that friends didn't matter. But it sucked because he and Fisher HAD been friends before all this shit happened.
Fuck it.
He didn't care anymore.
He moved his body freely forward and now he was standing right in front of Fisher, towering over him. "Can we just like chill for a while? I'm tired of fightin' with people." His eyes were trying to focus on Fisher's face and he was starting get blurry in Tiny's vision. "...Shit."
Tiny was... crying? Why? Why? Why? Fisher didn't need to see him break like this. No, he couldn't be weak in front of him. Wasn't he supposed to be better than this?
"I....I don't want you to die, Fisher." He choked out of his mouth in honesty and he tried to wipe away the stupid tears with the back of his hand. "F-Fuck, I'm sorry, Fisher. I hate myself for killin' Penny.... The worse thing is, is that I was plannin' on hurtin' you before I came in here. And I hate myself more for even thinkin' of doin' something so fucked-up to you."
More dead people were mentioned. Lena. Who had been a killer who Fisher had been trying to turn away and save at the same time...? Tiny thought of Oliver for a second and then pushed him out of his mind. He focused back on Fisher who was rambling on and on and on.
Tiny waited. And waited. And waited.
Then Fisher was apologizing to him. Why the hell was he doing that? Tiny didn't want to find more guilt on his mind. Trying to keep the act up of being a piece of shit was getting harder and harder to do in Fisher's presence. He knew that they were all fucked. What even happened to the winners? He didn't fucking know.
Tiny stared at Fisher longer in silence as Fisher asked him the question that he didn't want to hear so soon and he was mulled over how he could respond to the other boy about it. "No. No, I don't want to kill you, you idiot." Tiny said in a more frustrated manner and he wondered if he just made himself look like a fool in front of Fisher. "Unless you want to fuckin' die. Because you keep goin' on about it. Look, I just want to survive as long as I can. Penny's death.... Penny...."
Tiny felt the words die from his mouth and then he decided that he didn't like this distance between him and Fisher. Okay, he did say that friends didn't matter. But it sucked because he and Fisher HAD been friends before all this shit happened.
Fuck it.
He didn't care anymore.
He moved his body freely forward and now he was standing right in front of Fisher, towering over him. "Can we just like chill for a while? I'm tired of fightin' with people." His eyes were trying to focus on Fisher's face and he was starting get blurry in Tiny's vision. "...Shit."
Tiny was... crying? Why? Why? Why? Fisher didn't need to see him break like this. No, he couldn't be weak in front of him. Wasn't he supposed to be better than this?
"I....I don't want you to die, Fisher." He choked out of his mouth in honesty and he tried to wipe away the stupid tears with the back of his hand. "F-Fuck, I'm sorry, Fisher. I hate myself for killin' Penny.... The worse thing is, is that I was plannin' on hurtin' you before I came in here. And I hate myself more for even thinkin' of doin' something so fucked-up to you."
-
Cactus
- Posts: 295
- Joined: Tue Aug 07, 2018 6:25 pm
- Location: Toronto, Canada
- Team Affiliation: Malcolm's Mariners
Of all the reactions to his sudden diatribe, to have Tiny collapse into tears was not the one he expected. The elephant that had been in the room deflated rather suddenly, leaving Fisher and Tiny back with a bar full of emptiness. While he had tensed up as Tiny had cleared the distance between the two of them, Fisher still stood, facing his fate head on. He was frustrated, he was tired, and he was exhausted, but he wasn't going to go out like a bitch. But then, Tiny had started to tear up and suddenly, this wasn't a predatory killer anymore.
This was just another scared classmate. Who'd done an awful thing, yes. But it was obviously eating him alive.
His words still chilled Fisher to the bone, but against everything that his mind was screaming, he cautiously placed a hand on Tiny's upper arm for comfort. This was someone who had fully admitted that he'd walked in here with the idea of doing him great harm, but he just couldn't help himself. They were all going to lose their humanity the longer they were here. That was just a fact.
Looked like his was still kicking.
"It's okay, dude. It's okay." He paused, correcting himself. "Well, I mean - it's not, but I get you. This place does fucked-up things to the brain."
Fisher exhaled, allowing himself at least a second to think that Tiny wasn't going to turn around and disembowel him.
"There's got to be a better way. I know what they want us to do, but we can't. We're all scared, man. We're all scared and fucked up and no one knows what to do. So I get it; the first option that comes to mind is the one they've given us."
He stared at the floor once again. Freya's blood still stained his hands, his blazer, his trousers. It was a stark reminder that he was in hell.
"I don't want to die," he admitted, "but I don't want you to, either. There has to be a way for us all to come back from this."
On that, though - Fisher didn't know where to start, so he didn't say anything else.
This was just another scared classmate. Who'd done an awful thing, yes. But it was obviously eating him alive.
His words still chilled Fisher to the bone, but against everything that his mind was screaming, he cautiously placed a hand on Tiny's upper arm for comfort. This was someone who had fully admitted that he'd walked in here with the idea of doing him great harm, but he just couldn't help himself. They were all going to lose their humanity the longer they were here. That was just a fact.
Looked like his was still kicking.
"It's okay, dude. It's okay." He paused, correcting himself. "Well, I mean - it's not, but I get you. This place does fucked-up things to the brain."
Fisher exhaled, allowing himself at least a second to think that Tiny wasn't going to turn around and disembowel him.
"There's got to be a better way. I know what they want us to do, but we can't. We're all scared, man. We're all scared and fucked up and no one knows what to do. So I get it; the first option that comes to mind is the one they've given us."
He stared at the floor once again. Freya's blood still stained his hands, his blazer, his trousers. It was a stark reminder that he was in hell.
"I don't want to die," he admitted, "but I don't want you to, either. There has to be a way for us all to come back from this."
On that, though - Fisher didn't know where to start, so he didn't say anything else.
-
Primrosette
- Posts: 902
- Joined: Wed Aug 08, 2018 1:59 pm
- Location: In Her Dark Abyss
Tiny was trying to stop himself from continuing with the waterworks and he was finding it harder and harder to stay up on his feet. Maybe being tired had fucked up his brain and caused his true feelings to spill out in front of Fisher. God, he really hated himself for being so weak and he wished that he could go back to just being the façade of a bad guy.
Fisher was trying to comfort him in his own way. Tiny felt more like laughing and crying at all of the shit that had happened. How the fuck did he fuck up so badly with Penny? The look of hatred on her face as she died. Tiny knew that was never going to leave him.
"Shit... I'm so fuckin' tired, Fisher." Tiny said in exhaustion as the he cleared his tears away and he found himself collapse a bit onto the stool that was beside Fisher. "I had a plan to try to survive for as long as I could. It wasn't... It wasn't supposed to end up with someone dyin'. I just wanted Penny's gun and we ended up gettin' in a bit of a shuffle. That pitchfork.... It's a fuckin' curse. I accidentally impaled her with it. But of course, they made it look like I was a monster. No.... I am a monster. But like you said, I'm scared of dyin'. It's only natural. Everyone is doing things that don't make sense. Hell, I honestly don't know what I am doin' anymore."
Tiny turned his head to look at Fisher beside him and he wondered what Fisher was truly thinking. It didn't seem like Fisher was going to tell him to leave. But he didn't know that for sure.
"Damn.... My head's a fuckin' mess right now. We could just stay here for a while. Right? To rest?"
Fisher was trying to comfort him in his own way. Tiny felt more like laughing and crying at all of the shit that had happened. How the fuck did he fuck up so badly with Penny? The look of hatred on her face as she died. Tiny knew that was never going to leave him.
"Shit... I'm so fuckin' tired, Fisher." Tiny said in exhaustion as the he cleared his tears away and he found himself collapse a bit onto the stool that was beside Fisher. "I had a plan to try to survive for as long as I could. It wasn't... It wasn't supposed to end up with someone dyin'. I just wanted Penny's gun and we ended up gettin' in a bit of a shuffle. That pitchfork.... It's a fuckin' curse. I accidentally impaled her with it. But of course, they made it look like I was a monster. No.... I am a monster. But like you said, I'm scared of dyin'. It's only natural. Everyone is doing things that don't make sense. Hell, I honestly don't know what I am doin' anymore."
Tiny turned his head to look at Fisher beside him and he wondered what Fisher was truly thinking. It didn't seem like Fisher was going to tell him to leave. But he didn't know that for sure.
"Damn.... My head's a fuckin' mess right now. We could just stay here for a while. Right? To rest?"
-
Cactus
- Posts: 295
- Joined: Tue Aug 07, 2018 6:25 pm
- Location: Toronto, Canada
- Team Affiliation: Malcolm's Mariners
Slowly and uncomfortably, Fisher nodded in agreement. Yeah, resting up was a smart call. Tiny was obviously exhausted to the point that he was breaking down, and his own mental state was just drained; he had barely been able to come up with a cogent thought since Freya had bled out. He was still wearing her blood, almost like a reminder. It wasn't as if he was going to come close to forgetting what happened here, but it acted as a reminder of what there was to lose.
Plainly put; everything.
"Fuck, dude. I'm sorry."
He was, but he wasn't as well. Tiny had murdered someone. He had gone for a gun and she had ended up dead. He vaguely recalled that Penny had been the one who'd killed Barry, so he wasn't sure if there was a measure of vengeance involved or if it had all been one tragic scuffle, but it wasn't for him to judge. There had obviously been a large amount of self-judgement going on within Tiny and for better or for worse, Fisher had coaxed it out of him. Probably just as well, too, if Tiny's admission was to be believed. Fuck, his heart beat just a bit quicker now as he realized how quickly he may have come to being attacked. Staying here seemed the logical choice, but could he stay with someone who had confessed to having cruel intentions off the bat?
"I'm," he started, stopping suddenly and exhaling his doubts away. "I'm mentally and physically exhausted, man. So yeah... we can rest up here."
It was a calculated risk, but what other choice did he have? Fisher knew that he could say whatever he wanted, if he tried to leave, Tiny could react poorly, attack him. He might do so anyways. The fact was, Fisher and his laminated Declaration of Independence were going to do little more than bore Tiny to death. If his presence gave Tiny some form of comfort, then that was good. It made him useful.
It kept him around; kept him alive.
He glanced around the room. Exhaustion was probably the real reason he hadn't washed Freya's blood from his clothes or his hands. It was all dry now. He probably looked like a doctor who'd had to perform emergency surgery while out at a show.
Sorry, folks. The patient didn't make it. There was nothing I could do.
"I'm unarmed, man."
Fisher extended the olive branch, let the fact hang there. What else could he do? The answer was nothing, and he fucking hated it. But if Tiny was going to be his new best friend, he was going to have to trust him. Fuck; he hated that, too. But if someone came upon them and was looking to up a body count, there wasn't really anything he could contribute.
"We can try and board the doors or something."
Well, maybe that.
Plainly put; everything.
"Fuck, dude. I'm sorry."
He was, but he wasn't as well. Tiny had murdered someone. He had gone for a gun and she had ended up dead. He vaguely recalled that Penny had been the one who'd killed Barry, so he wasn't sure if there was a measure of vengeance involved or if it had all been one tragic scuffle, but it wasn't for him to judge. There had obviously been a large amount of self-judgement going on within Tiny and for better or for worse, Fisher had coaxed it out of him. Probably just as well, too, if Tiny's admission was to be believed. Fuck, his heart beat just a bit quicker now as he realized how quickly he may have come to being attacked. Staying here seemed the logical choice, but could he stay with someone who had confessed to having cruel intentions off the bat?
"I'm," he started, stopping suddenly and exhaling his doubts away. "I'm mentally and physically exhausted, man. So yeah... we can rest up here."
It was a calculated risk, but what other choice did he have? Fisher knew that he could say whatever he wanted, if he tried to leave, Tiny could react poorly, attack him. He might do so anyways. The fact was, Fisher and his laminated Declaration of Independence were going to do little more than bore Tiny to death. If his presence gave Tiny some form of comfort, then that was good. It made him useful.
It kept him around; kept him alive.
He glanced around the room. Exhaustion was probably the real reason he hadn't washed Freya's blood from his clothes or his hands. It was all dry now. He probably looked like a doctor who'd had to perform emergency surgery while out at a show.
Sorry, folks. The patient didn't make it. There was nothing I could do.
"I'm unarmed, man."
Fisher extended the olive branch, let the fact hang there. What else could he do? The answer was nothing, and he fucking hated it. But if Tiny was going to be his new best friend, he was going to have to trust him. Fuck; he hated that, too. But if someone came upon them and was looking to up a body count, there wasn't really anything he could contribute.
"We can try and board the doors or something."
Well, maybe that.
-
Irina Ivanov
- Posts: 222
- Joined: Wed Aug 08, 2018 9:47 am
- Location: The Land Down Under
((Lucy Arkwright continued from When A Curious Hate Oozes Calamity))
Lucy wasn't quite sure how she ended up here. It was so sure that she had been sleeping at the bottom of the tip, buried by year old rubbish. She supposed that she must have, at some point woken up and began walking. It was actually a miracle she somehow managed to make it to the storeroom of a warm, cozy pub without falling down and not getting back up again. She was certain that she would have fell in her drowsy trance she was still in, yet Lucy was lucky enough to make in it inside unharmed.
Then again, Lucy wasn't certain of anything anymore.
In that dump, she had a dream. A lucid dream, which she hadn't had for months. But it wasn't just that it was a lucid dream. No, the dream had a powerful sense of clarity. Lucid dreams were always more clear and less foggy then normal dreams, but this was different. In that 'dream', Lucy was in a sterile, white staircase, like ones hospitals had. The windows had something, Lucy just knew, but it was hidden by a veil of vantablack darkness. In that "dream", she came from a door. The door was rank, and the very area around it had a sense of unreal discomfort.
.....Lucy shouldn't have been thinking so much about that dream. She usually forgot dreams faster then faces, and no dream she ever had stayed with her this long. Even now, leaning against a dull wall, hearing a faint conversation in another room, Lucy could imagine that dream, she could feel the smooth walls of that staircase and the clearness of everything. It was almost like...
Nevermind. Lucy took a few somewhat deep breaths, letting 'reality' come back to her. Taking a peek from the storeroom door, Lucy saw two people. She couldn't recognise them, but she did recognise the colour of blood on one of them, and as she heard part of their conversation, she realised something.
They were killers. One of them was, at least. They killed someone called 'Penny'. Lucy felt like she heard that name before, but couldn't be bothered to remember. The other was stained with the blood of someone, but then again, Lucy's skirt was also red, nearly brown from blood.
One thing was for sure, one of them, the one that killed 'Penny', had a weapon on him. It was a pitchfork, like what the devil has, and it was dangerous. For all she knew, this could have ended someone's life. It can end someone's life. And in the hands of a killer? That wasn't a good thing. However weepy and pitiful he was, he was still a killer, armed with something that could kill someone. Lucy couldn't allow that.
She didn't even know when she had stepped out, and started walking on the old floorboards of the pub, ducking down to avoid being seen. It...didn't even feel like it was her doing this. It felt like what happened back in a house just a day ago. She had looked over at a body, a piece of flesh that should have been familiar, but wasn't, and she felt like...it was hard to describe. It felt like it wasn't her seeing someone murdered before her eyes, it felt like she was just looking through the eyes of someone else.
That was exactly what was happening now, as a gangly girl with hair all over her like a mentalist, set her eyes on the pitchfork, and started sneaking torwards it.
Lucy wasn't quite sure how she ended up here. It was so sure that she had been sleeping at the bottom of the tip, buried by year old rubbish. She supposed that she must have, at some point woken up and began walking. It was actually a miracle she somehow managed to make it to the storeroom of a warm, cozy pub without falling down and not getting back up again. She was certain that she would have fell in her drowsy trance she was still in, yet Lucy was lucky enough to make in it inside unharmed.
Then again, Lucy wasn't certain of anything anymore.
In that dump, she had a dream. A lucid dream, which she hadn't had for months. But it wasn't just that it was a lucid dream. No, the dream had a powerful sense of clarity. Lucid dreams were always more clear and less foggy then normal dreams, but this was different. In that 'dream', Lucy was in a sterile, white staircase, like ones hospitals had. The windows had something, Lucy just knew, but it was hidden by a veil of vantablack darkness. In that "dream", she came from a door. The door was rank, and the very area around it had a sense of unreal discomfort.
.....Lucy shouldn't have been thinking so much about that dream. She usually forgot dreams faster then faces, and no dream she ever had stayed with her this long. Even now, leaning against a dull wall, hearing a faint conversation in another room, Lucy could imagine that dream, she could feel the smooth walls of that staircase and the clearness of everything. It was almost like...
Nevermind. Lucy took a few somewhat deep breaths, letting 'reality' come back to her. Taking a peek from the storeroom door, Lucy saw two people. She couldn't recognise them, but she did recognise the colour of blood on one of them, and as she heard part of their conversation, she realised something.
They were killers. One of them was, at least. They killed someone called 'Penny'. Lucy felt like she heard that name before, but couldn't be bothered to remember. The other was stained with the blood of someone, but then again, Lucy's skirt was also red, nearly brown from blood.
One thing was for sure, one of them, the one that killed 'Penny', had a weapon on him. It was a pitchfork, like what the devil has, and it was dangerous. For all she knew, this could have ended someone's life. It can end someone's life. And in the hands of a killer? That wasn't a good thing. However weepy and pitiful he was, he was still a killer, armed with something that could kill someone. Lucy couldn't allow that.
She didn't even know when she had stepped out, and started walking on the old floorboards of the pub, ducking down to avoid being seen. It...didn't even feel like it was her doing this. It felt like what happened back in a house just a day ago. She had looked over at a body, a piece of flesh that should have been familiar, but wasn't, and she felt like...it was hard to describe. It felt like it wasn't her seeing someone murdered before her eyes, it felt like she was just looking through the eyes of someone else.
That was exactly what was happening now, as a gangly girl with hair all over her like a mentalist, set her eyes on the pitchfork, and started sneaking torwards it.
-
Primrosette
- Posts: 902
- Joined: Wed Aug 08, 2018 1:59 pm
- Location: In Her Dark Abyss
Tiny was feeling somewhat relieved that Fisher was letting him stay and he felt like they were just being buddies again. Although, he wouldn't have been a murderer and Fisher wouldn't have a friend's blood on his clothes. Shit, how long could they act on somewhat friendly terms? Or as long as they could. This was really starting to make his head ache. He needed time to think more clearly about this later on.
"You're unarmed. Well, shit." Tiny said in disbelief and he found himself frowning a little at the thought. The only reason why Fisher would even bother to tell him that, was because Fisher was starting to trust him now. That was what he had wanted in the first place. Well at the beginning after he had woken up. But that was a thing of the past. It didn't really matter right now. "....You can take the pitchfork if you want to. I don't want you to be defenceless. If I can't protect you, you have to protect yourself."
Tiny paused to think about the gun that was in his bag that was still on his back and he wondered if he should tell Fisher about it. No, he would tell him about it later. Like he would tell him about Galahad as well. Right now, they needed to focus at the task at hand.
"That's sounds like a good idea, bud. We just need to find somethin' useful to barricade them."
That was when Tiny turned his head to look at the piano as he thought that it would be something that they could use. That was when he saw the girl, Lucy, who was pretty much a strange girl if he remembered correctly. He noticed that she was trying to be sneaky as fuck to get the pitchfork and he felt a sudden anger boiling on the inside.
"Hey.... What the fuck do you think you doin', girlie?" Tiny asked in a calm, cool tone of voice and he had not bolted up from the stool he was resting his butt on. Not yet.
"You're unarmed. Well, shit." Tiny said in disbelief and he found himself frowning a little at the thought. The only reason why Fisher would even bother to tell him that, was because Fisher was starting to trust him now. That was what he had wanted in the first place. Well at the beginning after he had woken up. But that was a thing of the past. It didn't really matter right now. "....You can take the pitchfork if you want to. I don't want you to be defenceless. If I can't protect you, you have to protect yourself."
Tiny paused to think about the gun that was in his bag that was still on his back and he wondered if he should tell Fisher about it. No, he would tell him about it later. Like he would tell him about Galahad as well. Right now, they needed to focus at the task at hand.
"That's sounds like a good idea, bud. We just need to find somethin' useful to barricade them."
That was when Tiny turned his head to look at the piano as he thought that it would be something that they could use. That was when he saw the girl, Lucy, who was pretty much a strange girl if he remembered correctly. He noticed that she was trying to be sneaky as fuck to get the pitchfork and he felt a sudden anger boiling on the inside.
"Hey.... What the fuck do you think you doin', girlie?" Tiny asked in a calm, cool tone of voice and he had not bolted up from the stool he was resting his butt on. Not yet.
-
Cactus
- Posts: 295
- Joined: Tue Aug 07, 2018 6:25 pm
- Location: Toronto, Canada
- Team Affiliation: Malcolm's Mariners
Fisher couldn't hold back the grimace when Tiny told him that he could have the pitchfork, though he was pretty sure that he couldn't be faulted for that. To carry around a weapon that had already been the purveyor of someone else's demise wasn't exactly something that he wanted to bring to a first-impression party, but it also beat having a piece of paper as a weapon. He wasn't even really sure he could papercut someone with it.
Himself, though. He no doubt could probably hurt himself with it.
As he was trying to make light of anything at all within his mind, he turned to look at the weapon, still sitting where Tiny had left it, on top of the old piano that looked to be in dubious working order. He opened his mouth to say something else, but was distracted by what he saw behind the piano - a girl, Molly McKenzie by the looks of her. Tiny also noticed the interloper and addressed her, maybe a bit more aggressively than Fisher might have. Though, as he judged the situation, he understood why.
She was going for the weapon.
The tiny hairs on the back of his neck stood up as a palpable energy entered the room.
No. Not again.
"H-hey, guys. Let's all chill out here, yeah? Molly, hey!" He stuck a hand up in greeting. A bloody hand. Smooth, Fisher. Smooth.
"I'm glad to see you're okay."
That was genuine. He'd seen too many people die. One was more than enough, and he'd doubled that. His ears buzzed in nervous anticipation. Hopefully she wasn't too far gone already.
Hopefully, neither was Tiny.
Hope? Here? As if.
Fuck.
Fisher inhaled, the musty air stinging his nostrils as he hoped against hope that everything was going to be alright.
Himself, though. He no doubt could probably hurt himself with it.
As he was trying to make light of anything at all within his mind, he turned to look at the weapon, still sitting where Tiny had left it, on top of the old piano that looked to be in dubious working order. He opened his mouth to say something else, but was distracted by what he saw behind the piano - a girl, Molly McKenzie by the looks of her. Tiny also noticed the interloper and addressed her, maybe a bit more aggressively than Fisher might have. Though, as he judged the situation, he understood why.
She was going for the weapon.
The tiny hairs on the back of his neck stood up as a palpable energy entered the room.
No. Not again.
"H-hey, guys. Let's all chill out here, yeah? Molly, hey!" He stuck a hand up in greeting. A bloody hand. Smooth, Fisher. Smooth.
"I'm glad to see you're okay."
That was genuine. He'd seen too many people die. One was more than enough, and he'd doubled that. His ears buzzed in nervous anticipation. Hopefully she wasn't too far gone already.
Hopefully, neither was Tiny.
Hope? Here? As if.
Fuck.
Fisher inhaled, the musty air stinging his nostrils as he hoped against hope that everything was going to be alright.
-
Irina Ivanov
- Posts: 222
- Joined: Wed Aug 08, 2018 9:47 am
- Location: The Land Down Under
What did she think she was doing? She wasn't really sure. But Lucy reached out quickly in panic, and snatched the pitchfork. She hugged it close to her, as she stared, wide eyed at the two men, nearly hunched over and hyperventilating. Her vision and hearing blurred together, and their voices were....what should it be called, distorted? It wasn't warped or anything, but it was distinctly fuzzy, much like how her vision was blurring up the world into foggy shapes.
So. What now? Lucy was in a bad position, having have grabbed a killer's weapon. Even with the pitchfork, she was sure she was no match for that tall, muscular boy calling her out, the one who killed someone. She probably wasn't even strong enough for that other boy. The one that confused her for Molly...somehow. Maybe he saw that queen prick earlier in a similar state to her, Lucy didn't care. Lucy looked at the boy who put his hand up to great her, and Lucy went to do the sam-
Lucy stopped. The hand. The bloodied, red hand. Was that blood his own or someone else? It didn't matter, Lucy quickly put up Tin-Her pitchfork, and pointed it at the two boys, looking at them both rapidly.
She was scared....she was pretty sure anyways. All those emotions just poured into something she couldn't describe anymore. Lucy took a few steps back, while still pointing the pitchfork at the two. If she took this pitchfork, then she would have a higher chance of surviving, if she made it out of here alive. The question was, is she really going to go through with this? A few hours ago, Lucy no longer cared whether she died or not. Indeed, that tired emptiness she felt that made her lose the will to live was still there.
She could run, maybe she'll live. Maybe she'll die, even with the new pitchfork. Strangely, she felt like...she wanted to live. Lucy didn't know why, but the smallest chance to survive now with the pitchfork....it gave her back something. A smallest desire to live. She should go, regardless of if she wanted to die or not. She had the pitchfork, and those two boys must be stronger then her. If she was going to die, she'll rather have a graceful death fitting of a fairytale. Lucy would like that, a gradual, beautiful disappearance.
And yet....she stayed. Lucy didn't understand why she didn't just run, but here she was. She was stuck in place, holding the pitchfork as if she was going to ram it into someone, and looking at them with a deranged and fearful expression on their face. Lucy was on edge, at the slightest action, maybe even the smallest action, she was going to...
If she did that, then it'll make Lucy more likely to survive or something, now that there would be two less people to deal with, two people that were stronger then her. That was a good thing, she guessed. She was still kinda being newly reintroduced to having the motivation to live again.
But maybe the real reason was stayed, was just pure insanity. In dreams, Lucy always used to do things that she didn't understand with no emotional reaction, even things she would never do, like injuring someone. Was this any different? Was this a dream? Lucy didn't feel like she was in control, and everything around her just felt so...unclear, like someone put a filtered perception over someone's eyes, and got Lucy to look through it. An outside dreamer looking through a telescope that revealed a nightmare, and nothing more. That was what was happening, right?
So. What now? Lucy was in a bad position, having have grabbed a killer's weapon. Even with the pitchfork, she was sure she was no match for that tall, muscular boy calling her out, the one who killed someone. She probably wasn't even strong enough for that other boy. The one that confused her for Molly...somehow. Maybe he saw that queen prick earlier in a similar state to her, Lucy didn't care. Lucy looked at the boy who put his hand up to great her, and Lucy went to do the sam-
Lucy stopped. The hand. The bloodied, red hand. Was that blood his own or someone else? It didn't matter, Lucy quickly put up Tin-Her pitchfork, and pointed it at the two boys, looking at them both rapidly.
She was scared....she was pretty sure anyways. All those emotions just poured into something she couldn't describe anymore. Lucy took a few steps back, while still pointing the pitchfork at the two. If she took this pitchfork, then she would have a higher chance of surviving, if she made it out of here alive. The question was, is she really going to go through with this? A few hours ago, Lucy no longer cared whether she died or not. Indeed, that tired emptiness she felt that made her lose the will to live was still there.
She could run, maybe she'll live. Maybe she'll die, even with the new pitchfork. Strangely, she felt like...she wanted to live. Lucy didn't know why, but the smallest chance to survive now with the pitchfork....it gave her back something. A smallest desire to live. She should go, regardless of if she wanted to die or not. She had the pitchfork, and those two boys must be stronger then her. If she was going to die, she'll rather have a graceful death fitting of a fairytale. Lucy would like that, a gradual, beautiful disappearance.
And yet....she stayed. Lucy didn't understand why she didn't just run, but here she was. She was stuck in place, holding the pitchfork as if she was going to ram it into someone, and looking at them with a deranged and fearful expression on their face. Lucy was on edge, at the slightest action, maybe even the smallest action, she was going to...
If she did that, then it'll make Lucy more likely to survive or something, now that there would be two less people to deal with, two people that were stronger then her. That was a good thing, she guessed. She was still kinda being newly reintroduced to having the motivation to live again.
But maybe the real reason was stayed, was just pure insanity. In dreams, Lucy always used to do things that she didn't understand with no emotional reaction, even things she would never do, like injuring someone. Was this any different? Was this a dream? Lucy didn't feel like she was in control, and everything around her just felt so...unclear, like someone put a filtered perception over someone's eyes, and got Lucy to look through it. An outside dreamer looking through a telescope that revealed a nightmare, and nothing more. That was what was happening, right?
-
Primrosette
- Posts: 902
- Joined: Wed Aug 08, 2018 1:59 pm
- Location: In Her Dark Abyss
Tiny felt more and more irritated as Lucy was basically pointing the pitchfork towards him and Fisher and she seemed like she was trying to back out of the door with it. He did not appreciate some random-arse chick trying to steal his own stolen weapon. Well, it had been up for grabs but whatever. He did not like what was happening one bit.
"Fuckin' hell...." He said, feeling an sigh escape from his mouth and he really wanted to chew Lucy's out with harsh words. But he bit down on his tongue when Fisher had called her Molly. Fisher must have really been out of it, but Tiny was not going to comment on it. Fisher had had enough of a shit day.
Well, be the better person, Tiny! Don't fuckin' start a stupid fight! Make this chick chill the heck out!
"Listen, Lucy. Maybe I overreacted- No, I did overreact. I think that we should all try to keep the peace, you know. No one has to get hurt, right?" Tiny said as calmly as he could and he slowly got up to his feet, raising his hands up in a surrendering manner. "You're just scared shitless, right. Well, you're not the only person freakin' out over all of this. Now, I just gonna come over to you and take my weapon back. ….Okay?"
He was trying to charm her with a polite smile. Then he took a step forward.
"Fuckin' hell...." He said, feeling an sigh escape from his mouth and he really wanted to chew Lucy's out with harsh words. But he bit down on his tongue when Fisher had called her Molly. Fisher must have really been out of it, but Tiny was not going to comment on it. Fisher had had enough of a shit day.
Well, be the better person, Tiny! Don't fuckin' start a stupid fight! Make this chick chill the heck out!
"Listen, Lucy. Maybe I overreacted- No, I did overreact. I think that we should all try to keep the peace, you know. No one has to get hurt, right?" Tiny said as calmly as he could and he slowly got up to his feet, raising his hands up in a surrendering manner. "You're just scared shitless, right. Well, you're not the only person freakin' out over all of this. Now, I just gonna come over to you and take my weapon back. ….Okay?"
He was trying to charm her with a polite smile. Then he took a step forward.
-
Cactus
- Posts: 295
- Joined: Tue Aug 07, 2018 6:25 pm
- Location: Toronto, Canada
- Team Affiliation: Malcolm's Mariners
He'd called her Molly. This wasn't Molly at all - this was Lucy. Fisher blinked in surprise as he looked down at his bloody hands. His brain wasn't working the way that it usually did. He was usually great with faces, with names. Mixing someone up was just another indicator that he was so much more shell-shocked than he realized.
Looking back up, he realized that things had started to escalate. Lucy was pointing the pitchfork right at them. She wasn't going away, either. Wait - was she going to attack them with the damned thing? It had already killed someone, after all.
"W-wait, Lucy. Sorry. You should-"
Tiny burst in with more gravitas, more assuredness than Fisher had. Yet, something seemed off about what he was saying to Lucy. There was a degree of theatrics that he hadn't had when he'd just moments before been bawling his eyes out in front of Fisher. This wasn't right, this wasn't going to end well. He wanted to be elsewhere, anywhere at all other than right here.
Fisher wanted to run.
He watched it all happen.
Looking back up, he realized that things had started to escalate. Lucy was pointing the pitchfork right at them. She wasn't going away, either. Wait - was she going to attack them with the damned thing? It had already killed someone, after all.
"W-wait, Lucy. Sorry. You should-"
Tiny burst in with more gravitas, more assuredness than Fisher had. Yet, something seemed off about what he was saying to Lucy. There was a degree of theatrics that he hadn't had when he'd just moments before been bawling his eyes out in front of Fisher. This wasn't right, this wasn't going to end well. He wanted to be elsewhere, anywhere at all other than right here.
Fisher wanted to run.
He watched it all happen.