((Anthony Golden continued from For Every Choice, There Is An Echo))
He was glad he had his hat. Sure, it probably contrasted with his outfit a little; black didn't exactly go with blue and whatever colour cargo shorts were, but it didn't really matter, did it? He wasn't wearing this hat because it was fashionable, he was wearing it because it was protecting him from the sun peeking out of the clouds. He didn't think it was noon yet; maybe 11? The sun wasn't just at the highest point in the sky. Probably. It was hard, telling the time when you don't have a goddamn watch.
Idly, leaning over the railings just a little further, he shook his head, staring at the cruise ship looming in the distance. Where was her body, he wondered? He hadn't seen it, coming from the yacht all the way to this ferry. He hadn't seen any bodies, really, apart from the three below deck. One with her throat gashed open like a slasher villain had taken a knife to it, and the other two shot. Anthony should have felt something, especially since this was just a colossal waste of life. Seventy to eighty people taken from school and shoved onto a flotilla in the middle of nowhere, forced to kill each other for what, entertainment? The adoring public, uncaring of the criminals, the murderers, the bastards they adored?
But he hadn't felt anything, looking at those three corpses huddled admidst the wrecks of old cars, - dead, just like them - pools of their own blood and uncaring cameras fixated on him. He wanted to scream at them.
He still wanted to scream now. All he could feel was anger. He didn't know who they were, but he was sure they were the people who weren't in the last announcement, and then he would learn who their killer was tonight. And he would avenge them. The girl who had been... whatever the fuck had happened to her throat? Like, seriously, it was like someone had garroted her with barbed wire or something. Anyway, she might have been the one killed by Akeno Kudo. He'd avenge them. He would avenge them all. Their fucking killers wouldn't get away with it, be the ones who milked murder for all it's worth. The other two's killer would be on his list, too. He'd kill them both. He was a survivor.
His grip was tightening on the railings. He should calm down, but right now being calm didn't seem like a good use of his time when there were murderers about. They might have guns, they might have swords and knives and what not, but he knew he had moral superiority, and in the end that what was matters. Daniel stepped into the lion's den and was found blameless because he hadn't done anything. He was blameless, too, he just needed to get a chance to get one of the killers.
Letting go of the railing, he stepped back, sitting on the bench closest to the railings and swinging himself around so he could watch the stairways.
We're Back In The Swamp
Private! Day 2, 11 AM
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Applesintime
- Posts: 836
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Primrosette
- Posts: 900
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- Location: In Her Dark Abyss
Fuck, fricking fuck...! This shit really did suck donkey balls!
((Beau Lively continued from YOO, GUYS! I TOTALLY GOT SHOT ON TV!! NOT CLICKBAIT, NOT CLICKBAIT!!))
Beau and Hannah had left the submarine a bit before the announcement had started up and he had been feeling better as he had someone to talk to about anything that came to his mind. His rambles had kept his mind off of Xander being dead and his cheerful front felt so fake. Pretending that he was all okey dokey was something that he had kept up.
Until....
Cassini was killed by Eric, Cassini was killed by Eric. She was gone, gone, gone.
He had never got a chance to even find her. He should have tried harder. Maybe he could have saved her, maybe he would have failed to do so. He had just wanted to see her again. Even if it had been one last chance. But Eric had stolen that away from him and Beau couldn't even forgive that guy for doing that. Losing two close friends was the worst feeling in the world.
His heart was still hurting like crazy for Cassini and Xander.
He hated feeling so crushed.
He hoped that Hannah was okay with him being a bit quieter while they were wandering around aimlessly without a goal in mind and they were now in the ferry area. He needed.... He didn't really know what he wanted really. He missed being at home. He missed being able to talk about cheese facts with Xander. He missed being able to joke and laugh with Cassini. He missed laughing at Al's cute tantrums. He missed his parents. Missed his fans.
He climbed up the stairs of the ferry with a slow pace and he had gone before Hannah. He didn't want her to see that he was tearing up a little and he blinked a few times to make his blurry vision.
He then felt himself stopping at just the top the stairs, blocking the way up.
He found himself staring at a familiar face that he never thought that he would see again.
"Anthony, uhm, hi."
((Beau Lively continued from YOO, GUYS! I TOTALLY GOT SHOT ON TV!! NOT CLICKBAIT, NOT CLICKBAIT!!))
Beau and Hannah had left the submarine a bit before the announcement had started up and he had been feeling better as he had someone to talk to about anything that came to his mind. His rambles had kept his mind off of Xander being dead and his cheerful front felt so fake. Pretending that he was all okey dokey was something that he had kept up.
Until....
Cassini was killed by Eric, Cassini was killed by Eric. She was gone, gone, gone.
He had never got a chance to even find her. He should have tried harder. Maybe he could have saved her, maybe he would have failed to do so. He had just wanted to see her again. Even if it had been one last chance. But Eric had stolen that away from him and Beau couldn't even forgive that guy for doing that. Losing two close friends was the worst feeling in the world.
His heart was still hurting like crazy for Cassini and Xander.
He hated feeling so crushed.
He hoped that Hannah was okay with him being a bit quieter while they were wandering around aimlessly without a goal in mind and they were now in the ferry area. He needed.... He didn't really know what he wanted really. He missed being at home. He missed being able to talk about cheese facts with Xander. He missed being able to joke and laugh with Cassini. He missed laughing at Al's cute tantrums. He missed his parents. Missed his fans.
He climbed up the stairs of the ferry with a slow pace and he had gone before Hannah. He didn't want her to see that he was tearing up a little and he blinked a few times to make his blurry vision.
He then felt himself stopping at just the top the stairs, blocking the way up.
He found himself staring at a familiar face that he never thought that he would see again.
"Anthony, uhm, hi."
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Applesintime
- Posts: 836
- Joined: Sat Jul 04, 2020 11:57 am
- Team Affiliation: Ben's Crabs
Beau was looking up at him from one of the stairs, which was odd. Anthony had assumed that well, he was either dead or going to die soon. No offense to him and all that, but he wasn't really what you thought of when you think of a survivor. He had expected that Beau would just be another name, another person that he would have to avenge. But he was alive. And that meant for now, he had at least one friend on the island. Even if the bandana he wore was not the same colour as his, they were all linked by the collars around their neck. You could lie to yourself, say that you were the star, that you were different.
But all the same, you were collared like a dog, captive just like the rest. It infuriated him, how they would kill and murder and maim one another just to make sure that you weren't the one maimed, murdered, killed. He wanted to scream. But Beau was there, staring at him, and screaming, as good as it would feel, would just make him look weird. His head was cloudy, fogged with rage and remembering who had done that to the three bodies downstairs. Who would do it again.
"Hey Beau. Don't worry, I'm not going to kill you if you're not playing." Succinct and to the point. But right now he wasn't really one to talk happily and cheerfully, not when his friends were falling like dominoes. Standing up, he gripped the wooden board just a little harder. He didn't want to have to kill Beau, but if he was going to open his mouth and say he was going to play then he had absolutely no choice. He may be about as deadly as a fly, but a player was a player.
"Sorry, I just- they fucking killed Giselle. They fucking killed her and I'm going to fucking kill them!" He was aware that yes, this was very out of character for him, but who the fuck knew what was going on in his head anymore? Maybe he was just in the middle of a mental breakdown, maybe this was some kind of nervous breakdown, it didn't fucking matter, and it wouldn't fucking matter until he had splattered Ivan and Fisk and Vasily and every fucking killer's brains across the floor and maybe then, just maybe then he could think about it. He started to pace around the deck, aware that right now he looked like a lunatic.
But that was the thing, wasn't it? To every one of the people viewing this, to every single one of the superfans and the casual vans and Pete from fucking Ohio or something who just casually watched it at his bar, he was a lunatic because he had the fucking balls to stand up and say hey, maybe killing your kids on the TV wasn't so cool! How would the Jewel and the Karen and the Kenny idolaters feel when it was them on the island, on the flotilla, being forced to kill one another? Except he already knew what the answer was. Elation, thinking they'd be the next Yamana, the next LaLourvey, when in reality they'd be the next corpse sprawled on the ground after being murdered.
"I'm sorry, I just." He sat down on a bench, clutching his wooden board in both hands.
"I just. I don't know, Beau. I don't fucking know."
Anger wasn't a familiar emotion to him. Neither was rage. But right now, they were making themselves comfortable in his head.
But all the same, you were collared like a dog, captive just like the rest. It infuriated him, how they would kill and murder and maim one another just to make sure that you weren't the one maimed, murdered, killed. He wanted to scream. But Beau was there, staring at him, and screaming, as good as it would feel, would just make him look weird. His head was cloudy, fogged with rage and remembering who had done that to the three bodies downstairs. Who would do it again.
"Hey Beau. Don't worry, I'm not going to kill you if you're not playing." Succinct and to the point. But right now he wasn't really one to talk happily and cheerfully, not when his friends were falling like dominoes. Standing up, he gripped the wooden board just a little harder. He didn't want to have to kill Beau, but if he was going to open his mouth and say he was going to play then he had absolutely no choice. He may be about as deadly as a fly, but a player was a player.
"Sorry, I just- they fucking killed Giselle. They fucking killed her and I'm going to fucking kill them!" He was aware that yes, this was very out of character for him, but who the fuck knew what was going on in his head anymore? Maybe he was just in the middle of a mental breakdown, maybe this was some kind of nervous breakdown, it didn't fucking matter, and it wouldn't fucking matter until he had splattered Ivan and Fisk and Vasily and every fucking killer's brains across the floor and maybe then, just maybe then he could think about it. He started to pace around the deck, aware that right now he looked like a lunatic.
But that was the thing, wasn't it? To every one of the people viewing this, to every single one of the superfans and the casual vans and Pete from fucking Ohio or something who just casually watched it at his bar, he was a lunatic because he had the fucking balls to stand up and say hey, maybe killing your kids on the TV wasn't so cool! How would the Jewel and the Karen and the Kenny idolaters feel when it was them on the island, on the flotilla, being forced to kill one another? Except he already knew what the answer was. Elation, thinking they'd be the next Yamana, the next LaLourvey, when in reality they'd be the next corpse sprawled on the ground after being murdered.
"I'm sorry, I just." He sat down on a bench, clutching his wooden board in both hands.
"I just. I don't know, Beau. I don't fucking know."
Anger wasn't a familiar emotion to him. Neither was rage. But right now, they were making themselves comfortable in his head.
More folk she knew were getting in on the killing action. Well, alright. 'Knowing' Ivan was a bit of an exaggeration. Lucille definitely knew Fisk and Vasily though. Sounded like one flamingly campy mess of an acting duo. Had to wonder if the producers had done that on purpose.
(SB05's footsteps clunked and thumped like a wet dog corpse being dragged up the stairs. What emerged from another stairwell, parallel and across the deck of the ferry from JL05, looked a good deal more alive and healthy than a necrotic furball. What emerged was the Buccaneer's hot pink for a top, the innocently immodest bikini that had been issued to her daypack, and the same pair of faux fashion statement glasses she'd started out with yesterday)
There had been a lot of people in her class she didn't particularly recognize when they showed up or failed to show up for assemblies, and three of them were starting to rot below deck.
((Lucille Mendoza continued from A voice comes out of Lucille's collar:))
"Supposedly that's the point, isn't it? That you don't know."
(She contemplated the boy sitting with a neutral quality to her gaze, like she was more interested in the bench under his ass than she was in him)
Unironically talking to Anthony of all people would have been less likely back in the day than As on her report card. Who was the one who'd told whom that they had no idea what they were talking about the last time they'd spoken? Lucille didn't remember, and it could have been either of them or both of them and she wouldn't have been at all surprised. Honestly she cared more about the fact that she was hungry than the fact that she words were coming out of her mouth. She hadn't eaten at all since that whole whatever that had happened last night.
"I remember, like, this podcast that came out after Lara Oliver."
(She spoke faster, animated for a moment as her hands came to life for the first time since she'd been beaten and nearly shot)
"And they were talking about how a lot of the people who take a stance in the game, like. Willing to kill, not willing to kill. You know, they don't really get what waits for them on the other side. People who actually try to accomplish something on SOTF are the sort of people who don't think about what their actions actually mean."
(At some point she'd half-heartedly pointed at herself while talking about killers)
"How they come off, how what they did to get there will never be viewed by the watchers of TV the same way it will be viewed by they themselves. Like, the consequences are unpredictable, you know?"
Imagine softly smiling at Anthony like he'd ever been a friend or anything besides a judgmental jackass. God damn this was a weird moment.
(She kept looking at him, only occasionally glancing at Beau like he had something to add to the one-sided monologue of a conversation)
"Like think about Seo. I know Seo, I know she's calculating, like, every damn moment of her kill streak or final four-slash-five or whatever it is she does when she's trying to be the queen bitch of the universe. I don't think she realizes everyone watching already sees through her. The smart ones, anyways. The ones who are taking her at face value are the ones she'll secretly hate if she ever makes it far enough to meet them on the other side."
Lucille had never noticed just how much of a blabber mouth she was until now.
"Like, even Steph told me I have no idea what the fuck I'm on about, thinking I want to be on SOTF or win it. My own mentor shit talking me, y'know? Iconic. I'll be in the history books and the quotes for this on- wait- you two know who Steph is, right? Won Season 41, shitty pirate theme?"
She really didn't know if Anthony knew, like, anything at all about SOTF?
(SB05's footsteps clunked and thumped like a wet dog corpse being dragged up the stairs. What emerged from another stairwell, parallel and across the deck of the ferry from JL05, looked a good deal more alive and healthy than a necrotic furball. What emerged was the Buccaneer's hot pink for a top, the innocently immodest bikini that had been issued to her daypack, and the same pair of faux fashion statement glasses she'd started out with yesterday)
There had been a lot of people in her class she didn't particularly recognize when they showed up or failed to show up for assemblies, and three of them were starting to rot below deck.
((Lucille Mendoza continued from A voice comes out of Lucille's collar:))
"Supposedly that's the point, isn't it? That you don't know."
(She contemplated the boy sitting with a neutral quality to her gaze, like she was more interested in the bench under his ass than she was in him)
Unironically talking to Anthony of all people would have been less likely back in the day than As on her report card. Who was the one who'd told whom that they had no idea what they were talking about the last time they'd spoken? Lucille didn't remember, and it could have been either of them or both of them and she wouldn't have been at all surprised. Honestly she cared more about the fact that she was hungry than the fact that she words were coming out of her mouth. She hadn't eaten at all since that whole whatever that had happened last night.
"I remember, like, this podcast that came out after Lara Oliver."
(She spoke faster, animated for a moment as her hands came to life for the first time since she'd been beaten and nearly shot)
"And they were talking about how a lot of the people who take a stance in the game, like. Willing to kill, not willing to kill. You know, they don't really get what waits for them on the other side. People who actually try to accomplish something on SOTF are the sort of people who don't think about what their actions actually mean."
(At some point she'd half-heartedly pointed at herself while talking about killers)
"How they come off, how what they did to get there will never be viewed by the watchers of TV the same way it will be viewed by they themselves. Like, the consequences are unpredictable, you know?"
Imagine softly smiling at Anthony like he'd ever been a friend or anything besides a judgmental jackass. God damn this was a weird moment.
(She kept looking at him, only occasionally glancing at Beau like he had something to add to the one-sided monologue of a conversation)
"Like think about Seo. I know Seo, I know she's calculating, like, every damn moment of her kill streak or final four-slash-five or whatever it is she does when she's trying to be the queen bitch of the universe. I don't think she realizes everyone watching already sees through her. The smart ones, anyways. The ones who are taking her at face value are the ones she'll secretly hate if she ever makes it far enough to meet them on the other side."
Lucille had never noticed just how much of a blabber mouth she was until now.
"Like, even Steph told me I have no idea what the fuck I'm on about, thinking I want to be on SOTF or win it. My own mentor shit talking me, y'know? Iconic. I'll be in the history books and the quotes for this on- wait- you two know who Steph is, right? Won Season 41, shitty pirate theme?"
She really didn't know if Anthony knew, like, anything at all about SOTF?
Upcoming:
Second Chances V3 (deconreconfirmed):
Relations Thread!
Olivia Fischer (original handler, Maraoone)
Memories: 1 Pregame: 1
Faith Marshal-Mackenzie (original handler, Frozen Smoke)
Memories: 1 Pregame: 1
Sayuna Lewis (original handler, Cicada)
Princess McQuillan (original handler, Cicada)
Pregame: 1
Second Chances V3 (deconreconfirmed):
Relations Thread!
Olivia Fischer (original handler, Maraoone)
Memories: 1 Pregame: 1
Faith Marshal-Mackenzie (original handler, Frozen Smoke)
Memories: 1 Pregame: 1
Sayuna Lewis (original handler, Cicada)
Princess McQuillan (original handler, Cicada)
Pregame: 1
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Primrosette
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Beau was still at the top of the stairs and he hadn't even got a chance to respond to Anthony's outburst. God, it really was terrible to see someone suffering through the same thing and he wanted to rage as well as him. But he couldn't. He didn't want anyone to see him crying and angering like a child. He didn't want any of his fans (come on, he knew that like most or almost all his fans love watching this "show") to see him being weak or pitiful. But he understood that Anthony just needed someone to comfort him and reassure him about everything. Right?
He glanced back at Hannah and used a hand to tell her to stay back for a while. He needed to make sure that it would be safe first. Just in case, Anthony started to lose his mind again.
He took a few steps forward.
"Hey, Anthony, it's-"
He almost jumped out of his skin when he heard Lucille's voice and he turned to towards where she was. She fricking ninja'd out of nowhere! He put a hand to his chest and was praying that his beating heart would calm back down to a normal pace.
She was talking about killing, no killing and Seo and Stephanie and his mind was feeling a bit fuzzy. He actually thought that Al had told him about Season 41 a few times and he kinda just let him. He was not interested in this damn show when it was pretty much a fricking snuff show. Not like he would say that aloud, didn't want to have people hating on him for being too honest and he was sure that Al was at home, watching him right now. God, he missed being able to just be himself at home.
"Oh, uh, my friend told me about Stephanie! He's a big fan of this than me. I mean, I'm not into this." He said towards Lucille, scratching his cheek and he then made his way over to the bench where Anthony was sitting. "Well, I lost two friends as well to this show- no, not to just this show. I lost Xander because of Rhonda. I lost Cassini because of Eric. I never, ever got a chance to even say goodbye or anything like that. And I...."
He paused and he took in an inhale of salty air. Then he exhaled slowly.
"We should do something about it instead of complaining. I never got a chance to tell Cassini how I felt about her. And it hurts like hell."
He then sat down beside Anthony and then he glanced at him more seriously. He couldn't be the jokey, fun-loving Beau right now. This was not the time for that.
"If you're serious about taking down Ivan, I'll help you. But we should also think about Seo or Eric or anyone else who is going for those damn ten kills or whatever. We have to stop them. They don't deserve all that fame off of killing kids. It's sick and fucking gross. Heck, I would willingly die to take them all down with me."
Beau was now being honest about how he felt about everything. He hoped that Anthony was on the same page.
"Ah, was that too much...?" He asked quietly, feeling a bit embarrassed at himself for being so passionately about something like that. "I just, uhm, that's how I feel honestly right now."
He glanced back at Hannah and used a hand to tell her to stay back for a while. He needed to make sure that it would be safe first. Just in case, Anthony started to lose his mind again.
He took a few steps forward.
"Hey, Anthony, it's-"
He almost jumped out of his skin when he heard Lucille's voice and he turned to towards where she was. She fricking ninja'd out of nowhere! He put a hand to his chest and was praying that his beating heart would calm back down to a normal pace.
She was talking about killing, no killing and Seo and Stephanie and his mind was feeling a bit fuzzy. He actually thought that Al had told him about Season 41 a few times and he kinda just let him. He was not interested in this damn show when it was pretty much a fricking snuff show. Not like he would say that aloud, didn't want to have people hating on him for being too honest and he was sure that Al was at home, watching him right now. God, he missed being able to just be himself at home.
"Oh, uh, my friend told me about Stephanie! He's a big fan of this than me. I mean, I'm not into this." He said towards Lucille, scratching his cheek and he then made his way over to the bench where Anthony was sitting. "Well, I lost two friends as well to this show- no, not to just this show. I lost Xander because of Rhonda. I lost Cassini because of Eric. I never, ever got a chance to even say goodbye or anything like that. And I...."
He paused and he took in an inhale of salty air. Then he exhaled slowly.
"We should do something about it instead of complaining. I never got a chance to tell Cassini how I felt about her. And it hurts like hell."
He then sat down beside Anthony and then he glanced at him more seriously. He couldn't be the jokey, fun-loving Beau right now. This was not the time for that.
"If you're serious about taking down Ivan, I'll help you. But we should also think about Seo or Eric or anyone else who is going for those damn ten kills or whatever. We have to stop them. They don't deserve all that fame off of killing kids. It's sick and fucking gross. Heck, I would willingly die to take them all down with me."
Beau was now being honest about how he felt about everything. He hoped that Anthony was on the same page.
"Ah, was that too much...?" He asked quietly, feeling a bit embarrassed at himself for being so passionately about something like that. "I just, uhm, that's how I feel honestly right now."
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The Honeless Beard
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((From Temporal Placement))
A lot of words - a lot of words - coming from the upper deck of the ferry. They'd interrupted his sleep at the House Boat upper floor, where he'd originally stashed his bag. Ivan used it as a pillow to cradle his head and also stem the tide of a fresh gout of blood from his ear that had happened at some point in the last hour.
Hard to sleep with the feeling of flesh trapped between foot and wood, and the words floating from the ferry allowed him to pretend that he was harder, tougher than he clearly was. They'd beat the shit out of him and left him for dead and here he was, tossing and turning over putting one of the worst ones in the ground.
So to speak.
So he grabbed on to the words floating in his mangled skull and used them to pull himself to his feet, half-heartedly digging the dried blood from the shell of his ear with a fingernail and flicking it away. The feeling was odd, like he was underwater, the sensations felt but not heard. The F carved into his forehead continued to darken with time, the cheek and left-eye area where Fisk's boot caught him sickening and blackening. He hadn't taken off his white tanktop to check his ribcage, but why would he? Just the act of breathing let him know how he was doing.
But medkits were for the long game. He wasn't playing that anymore.
He rose to his bare feet - the nail of both big toes had split sometime during the struggle against Giselle - and glanced out the doorway, saw three figures he didn't recognize. Three... potentially reasonable folks, who had heard what Giselle had done.
He hesitated for a moment, then began walking down the long metal walkway towards the ferry, bare feet slapping against rusting iron.
A lot of words - a lot of words - coming from the upper deck of the ferry. They'd interrupted his sleep at the House Boat upper floor, where he'd originally stashed his bag. Ivan used it as a pillow to cradle his head and also stem the tide of a fresh gout of blood from his ear that had happened at some point in the last hour.
Hard to sleep with the feeling of flesh trapped between foot and wood, and the words floating from the ferry allowed him to pretend that he was harder, tougher than he clearly was. They'd beat the shit out of him and left him for dead and here he was, tossing and turning over putting one of the worst ones in the ground.
So to speak.
So he grabbed on to the words floating in his mangled skull and used them to pull himself to his feet, half-heartedly digging the dried blood from the shell of his ear with a fingernail and flicking it away. The feeling was odd, like he was underwater, the sensations felt but not heard. The F carved into his forehead continued to darken with time, the cheek and left-eye area where Fisk's boot caught him sickening and blackening. He hadn't taken off his white tanktop to check his ribcage, but why would he? Just the act of breathing let him know how he was doing.
But medkits were for the long game. He wasn't playing that anymore.
He rose to his bare feet - the nail of both big toes had split sometime during the struggle against Giselle - and glanced out the doorway, saw three figures he didn't recognize. Three... potentially reasonable folks, who had heard what Giselle had done.
He hesitated for a moment, then began walking down the long metal walkway towards the ferry, bare feet slapping against rusting iron.
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Applesintime
- Posts: 836
- Joined: Sat Jul 04, 2020 11:57 am
- Team Affiliation: Ben's Crabs
So many words. So many words directed at him, from Beau and Lucille and the angel and devil on his shoulder. So many words that didn't mean anything. It was all Greek to him. Wrangling some semblance of a thought together, he nodded at Lucille, and then at Beau. And then, what? His anger was dull now, like a butter knife. But even a butter knife could kill someone if you stuck it in their eye. Was that a good allegory? No. It wasn't really. But who would care?
"I... Stephanie killed. She murdered to save her own selfish life, and that's the only thing that matters. I don't follow the world's most famous snuff film series, and I didn't exactly plan to be on it. All I know about this goddamn show is what the last day or so has taught me." But now he was on the show, and the question remained; was he a star of the show, or a small fish who would drown and choke the second he stepped onto dry land?
No. That didn't matter. That question was best for Seo-yun, Fisk, Ivan, the murderers. Anthony wouldn't let their star shine bright into the sky, casting a light away from the destruction it had wrought. If he had to yank it down himself he would, no matter what. No matter how hard it burnt him. He had never been one for poetic allegories like this. He was probably still having a mental breakdown. But that didn't matter either.
"I... I'm going for them, Beau. Every single last one of them. Fisk and his merry little gang of cunts and bastards, Seo-yun and her stupid fucking- fucking everything. I have a book and I-I have a goddamn pen, and a fucking list of every one of those killers. From the start of yesterday to what played a few hours ago. Every last one of them. I don't- I don't intend to let... let any of them leave. I don't care if I have to kill them. It's not... it's not murder, it's justice. It's survival." He let out a sigh, looking down at the floorboards. It felt weird, to be contemplating killing. But it wasn't murder. Maybe he would have criticised himself if he had been watching this from the other side of the cameras leering over them. But he didn't understand what it was like. None of them truly did, even the superfans. Especially the one watching him curiously.
He let out a sigh, looking back up to Lucille. Something about Seo-yun. Something about what they had planned. Something about being willing to kill, something about not being willing to kill. He didn't get what she was talking about, and to be honest that was probably because he had been contemplating what it was like.
"I don't wanna be an arsehole, but if you gotta point, can you get to it, Lucille? Because honestly I'm not entirely thrilled to see a superfan up and around the area." Was she going to pull a gun on him or something? He didn't get it. She was a superfan, wasn't she? She should be jumping with absolute fucking joy right now because hey, she got what she wanted! To die for the adoration of Americans. Isn't that what they all wanted? The chance to kill, the chance to die? The chance to fucking murder her friends and classmates?
He jumped onto his feet.
"Hands in the air." He ordered, pointing his plank at her. He didn't trust her. He didn't trust her at all. And, the devil in his ear whispered, wouldn't it be good survival instinct to kill her? To take out a potential player before she could strike, whip out a gun or a knife and shoot him, Beau, anyone?
Anthony wasn't going to do that.
But a part of him wanted to.
And that, in its own way, was more terrifying than anything that these killers could have done to him. Nonetheless, he kept that inner deliberation off his face, masking it with a hint of grim, determined anger as he stared at Lucille.
"I... Stephanie killed. She murdered to save her own selfish life, and that's the only thing that matters. I don't follow the world's most famous snuff film series, and I didn't exactly plan to be on it. All I know about this goddamn show is what the last day or so has taught me." But now he was on the show, and the question remained; was he a star of the show, or a small fish who would drown and choke the second he stepped onto dry land?
No. That didn't matter. That question was best for Seo-yun, Fisk, Ivan, the murderers. Anthony wouldn't let their star shine bright into the sky, casting a light away from the destruction it had wrought. If he had to yank it down himself he would, no matter what. No matter how hard it burnt him. He had never been one for poetic allegories like this. He was probably still having a mental breakdown. But that didn't matter either.
"I... I'm going for them, Beau. Every single last one of them. Fisk and his merry little gang of cunts and bastards, Seo-yun and her stupid fucking- fucking everything. I have a book and I-I have a goddamn pen, and a fucking list of every one of those killers. From the start of yesterday to what played a few hours ago. Every last one of them. I don't- I don't intend to let... let any of them leave. I don't care if I have to kill them. It's not... it's not murder, it's justice. It's survival." He let out a sigh, looking down at the floorboards. It felt weird, to be contemplating killing. But it wasn't murder. Maybe he would have criticised himself if he had been watching this from the other side of the cameras leering over them. But he didn't understand what it was like. None of them truly did, even the superfans. Especially the one watching him curiously.
He let out a sigh, looking back up to Lucille. Something about Seo-yun. Something about what they had planned. Something about being willing to kill, something about not being willing to kill. He didn't get what she was talking about, and to be honest that was probably because he had been contemplating what it was like.
"I don't wanna be an arsehole, but if you gotta point, can you get to it, Lucille? Because honestly I'm not entirely thrilled to see a superfan up and around the area." Was she going to pull a gun on him or something? He didn't get it. She was a superfan, wasn't she? She should be jumping with absolute fucking joy right now because hey, she got what she wanted! To die for the adoration of Americans. Isn't that what they all wanted? The chance to kill, the chance to die? The chance to fucking murder her friends and classmates?
He jumped onto his feet.
"Hands in the air." He ordered, pointing his plank at her. He didn't trust her. He didn't trust her at all. And, the devil in his ear whispered, wouldn't it be good survival instinct to kill her? To take out a potential player before she could strike, whip out a gun or a knife and shoot him, Beau, anyone?
Anthony wasn't going to do that.
But a part of him wanted to.
And that, in its own way, was more terrifying than anything that these killers could have done to him. Nonetheless, he kept that inner deliberation off his face, masking it with a hint of grim, determined anger as he stared at Lucille.
"This a rave or something? DJ Anti-TV?"
It hurt thinking about Bethany, all of a sudden.
(SB05 had gone through the checklist of motions one might have expected of a contestant with less know-how, a more typical student with less than average TV hours processed by eyeballs. She'd nodded sympathetically when JL05 had simply stated his reasons for knowing who the Buccaneers mentor was- his friends; the reason he was willing to help the ever-British BC04 with his righteous crusade- his friends, also. She'd smiled awkwardly, like trying to cut the wires to a live bomb, when she was supposed to not know the actual words to respond with, which was quite often in the case of the typically non-trained, non-prepared teenager. She'd flinched when threatened, she'd actively raised her hands in surrender, like she didn't already have the combat mentality to assume she was skilled enough to escape, or to fight back, or to at all win. She continued to act as if she belonged among them, SB05)
Hadn't she literally just said the results of actions on TV were never what you expected them to be? Justice wasn't ever a thing that a contestant could ever truly justify- not like the show's watchers cared about the concept. No anti-SOTFer who made it off TV was ever that highly considered in the grander lore of the show- they were hypocrites, losers, talking the talk then walking back the walk so they could save their own sorry skins. Like, Lucille understood that she'd monopolized the conversation kind of, points off for that, but she'd said some pretty dang smart stuff. For once.
She still didn't really get the implications but she figured it had to count for something.
(The one thing she did that was expected was staying alert and aware. She spotted ES12 approaching before the other two did, SB05 discrete enough with her side eye of the connecting gangway between the ships that her eyes never seemed to leave BC04s at all)
"All I'll say is. So far, you're doing better at TV than I am."
She remembered, like, those sunny summer days she'd spent with a friend a long time ago. Dreaming that one day they'd be on SOTF, because she'd once been a sad girl, and he'd made her a happy girl, and she'd never wanted to leave him after that even when he'd promised he'd one day kill twenty people to be the true deserver of the title of Fittest.
(She leaned against the railing, back supported by the crusty metal, smiling in that queer and fey way that she'd usually reserved for friends she wanted to throttle. She pointed down the cardinal direction everyone else had seemingly missed)
"By the way. If you're looking for Ivan he's already here."
It hurt thinking about Bethany, all of a sudden.
(SB05 had gone through the checklist of motions one might have expected of a contestant with less know-how, a more typical student with less than average TV hours processed by eyeballs. She'd nodded sympathetically when JL05 had simply stated his reasons for knowing who the Buccaneers mentor was- his friends; the reason he was willing to help the ever-British BC04 with his righteous crusade- his friends, also. She'd smiled awkwardly, like trying to cut the wires to a live bomb, when she was supposed to not know the actual words to respond with, which was quite often in the case of the typically non-trained, non-prepared teenager. She'd flinched when threatened, she'd actively raised her hands in surrender, like she didn't already have the combat mentality to assume she was skilled enough to escape, or to fight back, or to at all win. She continued to act as if she belonged among them, SB05)
Hadn't she literally just said the results of actions on TV were never what you expected them to be? Justice wasn't ever a thing that a contestant could ever truly justify- not like the show's watchers cared about the concept. No anti-SOTFer who made it off TV was ever that highly considered in the grander lore of the show- they were hypocrites, losers, talking the talk then walking back the walk so they could save their own sorry skins. Like, Lucille understood that she'd monopolized the conversation kind of, points off for that, but she'd said some pretty dang smart stuff. For once.
She still didn't really get the implications but she figured it had to count for something.
(The one thing she did that was expected was staying alert and aware. She spotted ES12 approaching before the other two did, SB05 discrete enough with her side eye of the connecting gangway between the ships that her eyes never seemed to leave BC04s at all)
"All I'll say is. So far, you're doing better at TV than I am."
She remembered, like, those sunny summer days she'd spent with a friend a long time ago. Dreaming that one day they'd be on SOTF, because she'd once been a sad girl, and he'd made her a happy girl, and she'd never wanted to leave him after that even when he'd promised he'd one day kill twenty people to be the true deserver of the title of Fittest.
(She leaned against the railing, back supported by the crusty metal, smiling in that queer and fey way that she'd usually reserved for friends she wanted to throttle. She pointed down the cardinal direction everyone else had seemingly missed)
"By the way. If you're looking for Ivan he's already here."
Upcoming:
Second Chances V3 (deconreconfirmed):
Relations Thread!
Olivia Fischer (original handler, Maraoone)
Memories: 1 Pregame: 1
Faith Marshal-Mackenzie (original handler, Frozen Smoke)
Memories: 1 Pregame: 1
Sayuna Lewis (original handler, Cicada)
Princess McQuillan (original handler, Cicada)
Pregame: 1
Second Chances V3 (deconreconfirmed):
Relations Thread!
Olivia Fischer (original handler, Maraoone)
Memories: 1 Pregame: 1
Faith Marshal-Mackenzie (original handler, Frozen Smoke)
Memories: 1 Pregame: 1
Sayuna Lewis (original handler, Cicada)
Princess McQuillan (original handler, Cicada)
Pregame: 1
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Primrosette
- Posts: 900
- Joined: Wed Aug 08, 2018 1:59 pm
- Location: In Her Dark Abyss
"Justice and survival, huh?" Beau murmured softly to himself after Anthony explained his reasons to go after the killers that want to win and be famous. He never understood why people thought that TV was the best way to get more popular or possibly unpopular. He kind of wished that he had Jewel's book on hand. He hoped that Leah had found some good use for it and he hoped that she was keeping herself safe. "Gosh, this all feels so crazy."
And then out of the blue, Anthony had jumped up to his feet and he seemed to be threatening Lucille for being a fan or something. Beau was kinda lost on that and he wondered if Anthony would have gone after Al if he had been here. Just for being a fan. It's was pretty dumb to just assume that all the fans of this show were going to end up as murderers. That was kind of like some stupid logic. Anthony was determined to go after players and... possible players in the future? That wasn't going to work out well.
"Hey, hey." Beau slowly got up to his feet and he let out a wary sigh, biting his dry, lower lip slightly. "Even if she is a fan of this show.... It doesn't mind that everyone who likes to watch it will want to kill people, you know. You can't be suspicious of everyone here. Even if... That's what this show might be about. You should focus on the ones that you really want to get revenge on. Right?"
He hoped that he was able to get though to Anthony. He really didn't want to get into another hostile again yet. Lucille was leaning against a railing and he actually wanted to ask out of curiosity if she had anything in mind that she wanted to do. But then he watched her pointing in a direction and then she said Ivan's name. He felt his heart leaping into his throat and he twirled to look at where she had been pointing at. Annnnnd.... she wasn't wrong. It was Ivan.
"Oh, crapballs!" He blurted loudly and he only said that out of pure nervousness. "Well.... This uh, isn't good. Haha.... ha...."
He needed to think of something that he could do. And so he did!
He crouched down towards the ground quickly and he whispered towards his collar, "Hey, Jewel. Ah, hmm. I'm in a bit of a pickle here. Since I offered to help Anthony with taking Ivan out for killing his friend and all. So uhhh, is there anything here that I could use as a weapon or something? If not, what advice would you give me to handle this before it could get deadly per say?"
And then out of the blue, Anthony had jumped up to his feet and he seemed to be threatening Lucille for being a fan or something. Beau was kinda lost on that and he wondered if Anthony would have gone after Al if he had been here. Just for being a fan. It's was pretty dumb to just assume that all the fans of this show were going to end up as murderers. That was kind of like some stupid logic. Anthony was determined to go after players and... possible players in the future? That wasn't going to work out well.
"Hey, hey." Beau slowly got up to his feet and he let out a wary sigh, biting his dry, lower lip slightly. "Even if she is a fan of this show.... It doesn't mind that everyone who likes to watch it will want to kill people, you know. You can't be suspicious of everyone here. Even if... That's what this show might be about. You should focus on the ones that you really want to get revenge on. Right?"
He hoped that he was able to get though to Anthony. He really didn't want to get into another hostile again yet. Lucille was leaning against a railing and he actually wanted to ask out of curiosity if she had anything in mind that she wanted to do. But then he watched her pointing in a direction and then she said Ivan's name. He felt his heart leaping into his throat and he twirled to look at where she had been pointing at. Annnnnd.... she wasn't wrong. It was Ivan.
"Oh, crapballs!" He blurted loudly and he only said that out of pure nervousness. "Well.... This uh, isn't good. Haha.... ha...."
He needed to think of something that he could do. And so he did!
He crouched down towards the ground quickly and he whispered towards his collar, "Hey, Jewel. Ah, hmm. I'm in a bit of a pickle here. Since I offered to help Anthony with taking Ivan out for killing his friend and all. So uhhh, is there anything here that I could use as a weapon or something? If not, what advice would you give me to handle this before it could get deadly per say?"
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MurderWeasel
- Posts: 3442
- Joined: Mon Aug 06, 2018 9:56 am
- Team Affiliation: Jewel's Leviathans
The voice from Beau's collar is quick but relaxed, its tone difficult to place.
"Confucius said, 'Before you embark on a journey of revenge, dig two graves.' Something to think about going forward.
"But right now, your best weapons are your ears and your brain. Did you pay attention to the specifics of Ivan's kill? I suggest you consider the whole story with an open mind.
"Or start digging, I suppose, but there's always time for that later."
"Confucius said, 'Before you embark on a journey of revenge, dig two graves.' Something to think about going forward.
"But right now, your best weapons are your ears and your brain. Did you pay attention to the specifics of Ivan's kill? I suggest you consider the whole story with an open mind.
"Or start digging, I suppose, but there's always time for that later."
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The Honeless Beard
- Posts: 893
- Joined: Sat Aug 25, 2018 4:47 am
- Location: Got it? Good, now get inside.
- Team Affiliation: Emmy's Selkies
A couple of things had Ivan slowing, then stopping.
First, Lucille said his name - said in a context that gave his diseased brain fits, stuttering and stopping. Why would Anthony - currently threatening Lucille with some kind of weapon- be looking for him?
He vaguely recalled Giselle and Anthony's heads bent close at the caf a few times - lunch room buds - but wasn't aware of the details. Details were a hard thing of late.
Second, third kid - Bow? - crouched to whisper to his collar in a move that confounded him until he saw her black bandanna. Probably seeking dating tips involving entrails, but the why of it, again, escaped him. Details were a...
He'd already thought that.
"If it helps," he said from his position at the catwalk, "I gave her an excellent eulogy."
He then raised a foot and stepped onto the side of the catwalk, metal swaying lightly until Ivan was balanced precariously, toes curling around the metal. He had grip, for now. Over the side was nothing but ocean, just in case anyone got cute.
"Giselle, Fisk, James, Bacchia, Keegan. They all fucked me up big time. I just returned the favour to one of em."
Ivan's voice was wobbly on his railing perch as he struggled to keep his balance, walking another few feet forwards, tight-rope style. Kind of fun, if the wind whipping through his ear didn't remind him of the deafness in the other.
First, Lucille said his name - said in a context that gave his diseased brain fits, stuttering and stopping. Why would Anthony - currently threatening Lucille with some kind of weapon- be looking for him?
He vaguely recalled Giselle and Anthony's heads bent close at the caf a few times - lunch room buds - but wasn't aware of the details. Details were a hard thing of late.
Second, third kid - Bow? - crouched to whisper to his collar in a move that confounded him until he saw her black bandanna. Probably seeking dating tips involving entrails, but the why of it, again, escaped him. Details were a...
He'd already thought that.
"If it helps," he said from his position at the catwalk, "I gave her an excellent eulogy."
He then raised a foot and stepped onto the side of the catwalk, metal swaying lightly until Ivan was balanced precariously, toes curling around the metal. He had grip, for now. Over the side was nothing but ocean, just in case anyone got cute.
"Giselle, Fisk, James, Bacchia, Keegan. They all fucked me up big time. I just returned the favour to one of em."
Ivan's voice was wobbly on his railing perch as he struggled to keep his balance, walking another few feet forwards, tight-rope style. Kind of fun, if the wind whipping through his ear didn't remind him of the deafness in the other.
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Applesintime
- Posts: 836
- Joined: Sat Jul 04, 2020 11:57 am
- Team Affiliation: Ben's Crabs
Lucille put her hands up. Good. Good. Something's gone right today, at the very least. Lucille didn't really seem to care much but it was a victory, one he could grasp onto no matter how small it might be. Beau mentioned that hey, just because she was a fan, doesn't mean she should be seen as suspicious, which was wrong, wrong, wrong. Look at the player list. Junji, Seo-yun, Vasily. What did they have in common? They were all fans of Survival of the fucking Fittest. And they were murderers, but that wasn't the point here. The point was, he could trust a fan of this show as much as he could trust a murderer with a knife.
"Beau, Beau. These people are fans of this stupid fucking show. They'd jump at the chance to fucking kill someone. It's simple. I trust her about as far as I can bloody throw 'er." Anthony drily remarked, glancing at Beau. Truth be told, he didn't know how good Beau would be at this whole player hunting thing. It seemed like somehow Beau, with his blue hair and his whole jokey vibes wouldn't be fit for something so dark, something like this whole show. But that was the point, wasn't it?
And then Lucille pointed in a direction, and Anthony slowly folled her finger all the way to Ivan Rodriguez, who was currently walking across a ladder from the houseboat to where they were standing.
His chest suddenly felt tight. He could feel his breathing quicken, in-out, in-out, in-out. Here he was. Here was that murderous son of a bitch who had murdered his friend.
His fingers dug into the wooden board so tight it hurt.
As Ivan drew closer, as Anthony slowly pushed himself up off the bench and walked towards him, he realised just how fucked up the guy looked; an F was carved on his forehead, he could see that his ear was kind of bloodied and the dude wasn't actually wearing any shoes, which was kind of fucking weird. Giselle must have tried to fight back hard, and then this son of a bitch murdered her.
The last thing he said to her was for her to fuck off. He wished he could go back, take back those words. But he couldn't, because Ivan took that chance from him. He took it from her. And he was going to kill him for it.
"You gave 'er a fohking euology, eh? Sure that'll calm 'er fohking 'eart, what wif you killin' 'er, you FOHKING DICK!" An eulogy? A fucking eulogy?! That was supposed to make him feel better about the fact his best friend was dead, that the fucking dickbag who murdered her was standing in front of him and he was ready to kill the fucker? He was seeing red. Red in his hands. Red in his eyes. Red in his brain. Red all over.
But then, he mentioned more names, and Anthony paused.
"There's... what? I thought it was just Gisellle, Fisk and Vasily." There were SIX of them? Jesus fucking Christ!
Well, there were five of them now, but that didn't matter, and it wouldn't matter until Ivan was dead.
"It-it doesn't fucking matter anyway! I hope it fucking hurt because you murdered my best fucking friend!" Pointing the board at Ivan, he moved up, standing in the ladder's way so he couldn't get on board the ship. His heart was pounding in his ears. He felt angry, and at the same time it comforted and worried him.
"Beau, Beau. These people are fans of this stupid fucking show. They'd jump at the chance to fucking kill someone. It's simple. I trust her about as far as I can bloody throw 'er." Anthony drily remarked, glancing at Beau. Truth be told, he didn't know how good Beau would be at this whole player hunting thing. It seemed like somehow Beau, with his blue hair and his whole jokey vibes wouldn't be fit for something so dark, something like this whole show. But that was the point, wasn't it?
And then Lucille pointed in a direction, and Anthony slowly folled her finger all the way to Ivan Rodriguez, who was currently walking across a ladder from the houseboat to where they were standing.
His chest suddenly felt tight. He could feel his breathing quicken, in-out, in-out, in-out. Here he was. Here was that murderous son of a bitch who had murdered his friend.
His fingers dug into the wooden board so tight it hurt.
As Ivan drew closer, as Anthony slowly pushed himself up off the bench and walked towards him, he realised just how fucked up the guy looked; an F was carved on his forehead, he could see that his ear was kind of bloodied and the dude wasn't actually wearing any shoes, which was kind of fucking weird. Giselle must have tried to fight back hard, and then this son of a bitch murdered her.
The last thing he said to her was for her to fuck off. He wished he could go back, take back those words. But he couldn't, because Ivan took that chance from him. He took it from her. And he was going to kill him for it.
"You gave 'er a fohking euology, eh? Sure that'll calm 'er fohking 'eart, what wif you killin' 'er, you FOHKING DICK!" An eulogy? A fucking eulogy?! That was supposed to make him feel better about the fact his best friend was dead, that the fucking dickbag who murdered her was standing in front of him and he was ready to kill the fucker? He was seeing red. Red in his hands. Red in his eyes. Red in his brain. Red all over.
But then, he mentioned more names, and Anthony paused.
"There's... what? I thought it was just Gisellle, Fisk and Vasily." There were SIX of them? Jesus fucking Christ!
Well, there were five of them now, but that didn't matter, and it wouldn't matter until Ivan was dead.
"It-it doesn't fucking matter anyway! I hope it fucking hurt because you murdered my best fucking friend!" Pointing the board at Ivan, he moved up, standing in the ladder's way so he couldn't get on board the ship. His heart was pounding in his ears. He felt angry, and at the same time it comforted and worried him.
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The Honeless Beard
- Posts: 893
- Joined: Sat Aug 25, 2018 4:47 am
- Location: Got it? Good, now get inside.
- Team Affiliation: Emmy's Selkies
"Beau," Ivan said, "control your mans."
(SB05 had an ugly laugh. Fake like trying to skip school, nasal like the head cold excuse was actually real. Like stuffing dog's chew toys into a machine gun)
Jeez. It was, like, was this her fake 'I am nervous and I didn't get the joke but I know I have to laugh right now' laugh that every guy and most of the girls she'd ever interacted with for more than two seconds knew well. It happened so much that at some point it had been remixed into a dance floor edit of her actual laugh. The laugh was involuntary, like it wasn't intended. But it also wan't particularly felt, like it was.
"Dude, nice."
(Her laugh unevenly trickled out of her dry throat like pleghm from the sick. Painful-sounding)
"You probably would have become my favorite contestant if I was watching this back home."
She wondered what she would have thought of herself, SB05, Lucille Mendoza, in the third-person. If she'd been watching herself.
"For, like, an hour."
She probably wouldn't have given herself all that many points for being held up by Anthony of all people.
(MM01's name had almost garnered a reaction. Blink and you'd miss it, even in the frame-by-frame. A dumb little smile, like her shitty podcast friend wouldn't be gutting her the very next time he saw her)
"Sounds of it, your friend was the one who went aggro on Ivan first." She wasn't really, like. Talking at Anthony, per say. And maybe she could have attributed that to not particularly wanting to be the one he tried to bludgeon or throw overboard in his annoying and hypocritical rage? Maybe. It was hard to tell, she guessed. Crazy how fast it'd been that she'd started feeling completely out of her depth in and among all her peers, as if she hadn't been the bad bitch hot shit fresh out the toilet just, like, a day ago and an ocean away. It was definitely a novel sensation. Kinda entertaining in its own way?
"Funny how the anti-SOTFers always find a way to be killers anyways. I dunno, just if you ask me." Casually, she put her hands behind her head. Might as well, they were already close enough.
(She had long since stopped paying attention to the crucial matter of even pretending she was keeping an eye on the situation, pretending she wasn't flat-footed and would be in a reasonable position to react if a fight burst kicking and crying out of this awkward placenta of a 'conversation')
"Yo, Steph. What did Jewel tell Beau?" She started to count the individual stitches in the seam of her own shitty brand-name tee. Definitely could've gotten ten of these for the price of one of her typical wardrobe shirts. "I dunno, like. It's not important or anything, I'm just curious. Like, I'm probably not getting the chance to see this scene on TV." Anytime soon, is what she only barely even noticed she'd accidentally omitted as a qualifier.
Jeez. It was, like, was this her fake 'I am nervous and I didn't get the joke but I know I have to laugh right now' laugh that every guy and most of the girls she'd ever interacted with for more than two seconds knew well. It happened so much that at some point it had been remixed into a dance floor edit of her actual laugh. The laugh was involuntary, like it wasn't intended. But it also wan't particularly felt, like it was.
"Dude, nice."
(Her laugh unevenly trickled out of her dry throat like pleghm from the sick. Painful-sounding)
"You probably would have become my favorite contestant if I was watching this back home."
She wondered what she would have thought of herself, SB05, Lucille Mendoza, in the third-person. If she'd been watching herself.
"For, like, an hour."
She probably wouldn't have given herself all that many points for being held up by Anthony of all people.
(MM01's name had almost garnered a reaction. Blink and you'd miss it, even in the frame-by-frame. A dumb little smile, like her shitty podcast friend wouldn't be gutting her the very next time he saw her)
"Sounds of it, your friend was the one who went aggro on Ivan first." She wasn't really, like. Talking at Anthony, per say. And maybe she could have attributed that to not particularly wanting to be the one he tried to bludgeon or throw overboard in his annoying and hypocritical rage? Maybe. It was hard to tell, she guessed. Crazy how fast it'd been that she'd started feeling completely out of her depth in and among all her peers, as if she hadn't been the bad bitch hot shit fresh out the toilet just, like, a day ago and an ocean away. It was definitely a novel sensation. Kinda entertaining in its own way?
"Funny how the anti-SOTFers always find a way to be killers anyways. I dunno, just if you ask me." Casually, she put her hands behind her head. Might as well, they were already close enough.
(She had long since stopped paying attention to the crucial matter of even pretending she was keeping an eye on the situation, pretending she wasn't flat-footed and would be in a reasonable position to react if a fight burst kicking and crying out of this awkward placenta of a 'conversation')
"Yo, Steph. What did Jewel tell Beau?" She started to count the individual stitches in the seam of her own shitty brand-name tee. Definitely could've gotten ten of these for the price of one of her typical wardrobe shirts. "I dunno, like. It's not important or anything, I'm just curious. Like, I'm probably not getting the chance to see this scene on TV." Anytime soon, is what she only barely even noticed she'd accidentally omitted as a qualifier.
Upcoming:
Second Chances V3 (deconreconfirmed):
Relations Thread!
Olivia Fischer (original handler, Maraoone)
Memories: 1 Pregame: 1
Faith Marshal-Mackenzie (original handler, Frozen Smoke)
Memories: 1 Pregame: 1
Sayuna Lewis (original handler, Cicada)
Princess McQuillan (original handler, Cicada)
Pregame: 1
Second Chances V3 (deconreconfirmed):
Relations Thread!
Olivia Fischer (original handler, Maraoone)
Memories: 1 Pregame: 1
Faith Marshal-Mackenzie (original handler, Frozen Smoke)
Memories: 1 Pregame: 1
Sayuna Lewis (original handler, Cicada)
Princess McQuillan (original handler, Cicada)
Pregame: 1
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Primrosette
- Posts: 900
- Joined: Wed Aug 08, 2018 1:59 pm
- Location: In Her Dark Abyss
Beau felt like he was at a loss. But he thought back to the announcement and he remembered that his mind had went a bit haywire after hearing about Cassini. His lower lip quivered as he could hear Anthony yelling at Ivan and well, Beau couldn't see Ivan clearly at the moment as he was still crouched down. Ivan called out to him to handle Anthony. Lucille was piping up about something. Right, Giselle had attacked Ivan.
He got up to his feet with ease and he cautiously made his way over to where the two guys were. His arm suddenly throbbed with a small string as if it was warning him to stay away from Anthony. He hated conflicts with a passion. But he always wanted to be the hero and save the situation. He had to listen to Jewel. He needed a more open mind for Ivan. He couldn't just ignore someone and hurt them just because they murdered someone. Even if it had been Anthony's friend.
"Anthony."
He was standing beside him and he glanced at Ivan. Freeze up for a moment. Holy shitty pepperoni! Ivan looked like he had been through hell and Anthony was still grilling at him.
He glanced back at Anthony and he let out a shaky breath. He was going to regret this, but he had to start taking things seriously. "Anthony, look at what they've done to him. We should at least let him up here and rest for a while. I know you're angry and upset, I get it. But.... Can we please try to do this non-violently? I got fricking shot by your teammate and I rather we hear him out more."
He just wanted someone to be more peaceful for once. Please!
He got up to his feet with ease and he cautiously made his way over to where the two guys were. His arm suddenly throbbed with a small string as if it was warning him to stay away from Anthony. He hated conflicts with a passion. But he always wanted to be the hero and save the situation. He had to listen to Jewel. He needed a more open mind for Ivan. He couldn't just ignore someone and hurt them just because they murdered someone. Even if it had been Anthony's friend.
"Anthony."
He was standing beside him and he glanced at Ivan. Freeze up for a moment. Holy shitty pepperoni! Ivan looked like he had been through hell and Anthony was still grilling at him.
He glanced back at Anthony and he let out a shaky breath. He was going to regret this, but he had to start taking things seriously. "Anthony, look at what they've done to him. We should at least let him up here and rest for a while. I know you're angry and upset, I get it. But.... Can we please try to do this non-violently? I got fricking shot by your teammate and I rather we hear him out more."
He just wanted someone to be more peaceful for once. Please!