((Jewel Evans continued from It Doesn't Matter if We All Die))
Jewel's movements were quick. It had been ten minutes since she'd left the beauty parlor behind her, and Nina inside of it. A lot had happened.
As soon as she'd really gotten moving, they'd beeped her collar. She'd felt like such a moron, because, no shit, she was supposed to be wearing her bandanna and wasn't. This was a great way to get killed; Holly Hergenroeder had almost proved that last season in about the most retarded way imaginable. So Jewel had sworn under her breath and had crouched down and rummaged through her bag and had pulled it out.
Black. Perfect. Silhouette of a whale, which was less so. Couldn't it be a skull or something badass? But black at least, so it coordinated well with her outfit. She tied it around her upper left arm. Was that the best place? Maybe not. She could change it later. Time to move. She didn't take too long looking through the rest of her bag, because she wasn't in a very good location. No camera angles on her. The discovery of a weapon was a defining moment in the story of any contestant. Some kept the reveal for days. Jewel wasn't that patient.
Already, she had an impression of plastic, and of cloth. The latter would be her costume. She hadn't looked at that too closely, either, though it had started the wheels in her head turning.
She'd taken a look at as much of the area as she could, trying to scope it out. This was a developed season. Good thing, too, with the chill and the snow. They'd've been in real trouble without shelter. She could already foresee avenues of conflict arising from this. Good planning on the part of the producers. She tried not to shiver as the wind chilled her legs.
She'd ducked around the casino, and now she found herself in a wide open space, an expanse of tables and sound equipment, and in the center of it all, a stage. It wasn't sheltered. It didn't matter.
There was only one thing to do.
She moved forward, feet crunching against the frost, leaving prints in her wake. Her wrists were prickling with cold, the dampness of her sleeves seeping into her arm hairs, but that could be dealt with later. The stage would be in good view of the cameras, from multiple angles. Had to be. She'd watched enough seasons to know a hotspot at a glance.
So she kept moving, and she pulled herself up onto the stage. It had snow on it too, and the snow stuck to her tights at the knees. She stumbled a little, scooted towards the center.
What had this been used for? It looked like it could have accommodated bands, perhaps—or, maybe more likely, strippers. She smiled, shrugged. As good a place as any for the performance to begin.
And she laid her bag down and unzipped it for real this time, digging in for something better than that embarrassing false start. At the same time, she kept her ears peeled for anyone coming. Immediate kills were incredibly rare, but not unheard of, and Jewel wasn't going to be anybody's first out.
We All Look So Perfect
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MurderWeasel
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The Honeless Beard
- Posts: 894
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- Location: Got it? Good, now get inside.
- Team Affiliation: Emmy's Selkies
((CS3: Douglas Sharpe, Start))
The only thing on Dougie's immediate mind was that he didn't know what to do with his hands.
It was silly. Stupid, even, that one of his very first thoughts when he had woke at this - resort? Beach? - was that he had always clammed up on camera, stuttered and made an ass of himself. He had never been one to care too much about image - the notable, wide scar on his chin, tan against chocolate, likely had something to do with that - but something about his entire life from now until...
It shook him up.
He had started, after getting his bearings - a hallway, pretty nondescript, with a large red curtain in front of him - by finding the bandanna - a blue stingray - and tying it onto his wrist over his green sweatshirt, rummaging to find the remains of his day pack and take supply. His moves were automatic as he found the subway sandwich, powerade, skittles - an assortment and mockery of a meal - a map...
A Tickle-Me-Elmo.
He stared at the little red ball of fur, with the "Press me!" sticker still attached to its hand. With a very cautious, shaky hand, he reached forwards, squeezing down on the hand of the little monster with a thumb and forefinger.
Elmo immediately erupted into giggles, falling onto his back and rolling around in uncontrollable, fairly demonic laughter.
Dougie stared at the toy, both relieved and bitter in a single breath. A kid's toy as a weapon meant that he didn't get a proper weapon. A lack of weapon meant that he wasn't pressured to murder.
Okay.
He unfurled the map, looking at it with a critical eye, frowning at the names of the places. This was called the Lanai Resort, apparently. Complete with Cabana Cul De Sacs, the Aloha Daycare Center, and a Sunshine Tower.
Who the fuck named this place?
He folded the map into neat quarters, shoved it in his back pocket just as Elmo stopped giggling. He hesitated, then reached for the furry red toy, flipping him over, and prying at his butt.
The tearing of velcroe was loud in the space, and he paused, listening. When the dogs of war didn't descend, he felt along until he found the little plastic battery housing, pried it open, and pulled the four AA batteries out with a fingernail.
With one hand, he slipped the batteries into his pocket - impulsive - and put Elmo back into his bag with the other. He let out a breath, adjusted his purple beanie.
And that's when he heard it - squeak of shoes, a clamber as footsteps walked up. Behind the curtain, Dougie realized, was someone.
Slowly, surely, he approached, two dark brown fingers pulling the curtain away from the wall, one green eye taking in the girl as she reached into her bag, rummaged around. He felt a sense of relief when she wasn't holding a huge gun, or - potentially worse - when she didn't happen to be a huge, tattoed kid named Stone.
Taking a deep breath, Dougie stepped from the curtain slowly, bag in hand and both hands outstretched in a sign of peace, facing her with his whole body.
"Friendly," he said, his voice echoing in the silence.
The only thing on Dougie's immediate mind was that he didn't know what to do with his hands.
It was silly. Stupid, even, that one of his very first thoughts when he had woke at this - resort? Beach? - was that he had always clammed up on camera, stuttered and made an ass of himself. He had never been one to care too much about image - the notable, wide scar on his chin, tan against chocolate, likely had something to do with that - but something about his entire life from now until...
It shook him up.
He had started, after getting his bearings - a hallway, pretty nondescript, with a large red curtain in front of him - by finding the bandanna - a blue stingray - and tying it onto his wrist over his green sweatshirt, rummaging to find the remains of his day pack and take supply. His moves were automatic as he found the subway sandwich, powerade, skittles - an assortment and mockery of a meal - a map...
A Tickle-Me-Elmo.
He stared at the little red ball of fur, with the "Press me!" sticker still attached to its hand. With a very cautious, shaky hand, he reached forwards, squeezing down on the hand of the little monster with a thumb and forefinger.
Elmo immediately erupted into giggles, falling onto his back and rolling around in uncontrollable, fairly demonic laughter.
Dougie stared at the toy, both relieved and bitter in a single breath. A kid's toy as a weapon meant that he didn't get a proper weapon. A lack of weapon meant that he wasn't pressured to murder.
Okay.
He unfurled the map, looking at it with a critical eye, frowning at the names of the places. This was called the Lanai Resort, apparently. Complete with Cabana Cul De Sacs, the Aloha Daycare Center, and a Sunshine Tower.
Who the fuck named this place?
He folded the map into neat quarters, shoved it in his back pocket just as Elmo stopped giggling. He hesitated, then reached for the furry red toy, flipping him over, and prying at his butt.
The tearing of velcroe was loud in the space, and he paused, listening. When the dogs of war didn't descend, he felt along until he found the little plastic battery housing, pried it open, and pulled the four AA batteries out with a fingernail.
With one hand, he slipped the batteries into his pocket - impulsive - and put Elmo back into his bag with the other. He let out a breath, adjusted his purple beanie.
And that's when he heard it - squeak of shoes, a clamber as footsteps walked up. Behind the curtain, Dougie realized, was someone.
Slowly, surely, he approached, two dark brown fingers pulling the curtain away from the wall, one green eye taking in the girl as she reached into her bag, rummaged around. He felt a sense of relief when she wasn't holding a huge gun, or - potentially worse - when she didn't happen to be a huge, tattoed kid named Stone.
Taking a deep breath, Dougie stepped from the curtain slowly, bag in hand and both hands outstretched in a sign of peace, facing her with his whole body.
"Friendly," he said, his voice echoing in the silence.
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MurderWeasel
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- Team Affiliation: Jewel's Leviathans
"Me too," Jewel called back instinctively. She wasn't yet sure if she was lying. Her weapon was there, and she smiled when she saw what it was. Five headsets, microphone and earpiece and radio, like what they wore in the secret services. The exciting part their potential, the message they carried to her.
The intercut walkie talkie conversation had been one of the highlights of Season Sixty-Five, so it stood to reason that they might provide opportunities to take the concept further. And she, Jewel, was the one entrusted with this. It was free face time handed right to her. Better than a gun. Only one set of these going around, almost certainly. And, of course, there was more underneath, food and cloth. She could see white, which made her want to groan but she didn't. Sometimes, people got assigned costumes that cramped their style. Nobody was forcing any of them to wear the stuff. She'd figure it out and cope.
Then there was the boy behind her, who she'd paid no further thought for the two seconds it took to confirm her gear but who she now allowed back into her mind. He wasn't planning to kill her. He'd come from behind the curtains she'd vaguely noticed, at the other end of the stage from where she'd pulled herself up. Had he been lurking? Probably someone wanting to make sure everything was safe before coming out. An early threat wouldn't have talked like he did. What would he mean to her, then? She swiveled, lowering herself into a fully seated position as she did. The frost nipped at her ass and legs through her skirt. She forced the smile to remain.
He was huge. She'd seen him around school. She probably had heard his name a dozen times in class, but it hadn't been important enough for her to commit it to memory. Maybe that would change now. Maybe not. She gestured towards him, beckoning him closer with her right index and middle. The hair on the back of her hand stood up. Her sleeves were still damp. Visibly?
The boy was wearing a hoodie and jeans and a beanie, which meant that he didn't have much going for him in the costume department but was probably warmer than she. He had a blue bandanna around his wrist, which meant he was an enemy in the long term. He had no weapon visible on him. He didn't seem unfriendly, but he was a big black man and it was early in the game, so probably she was getting focus right this second.
First impressions could make or break a contestant. Sometimes they faded, but often whether someone got talked about had to do with their first day showing, unless they later went on to make finals. Everyone remembered Marvia Jones for fucking Nate Chauncey, even though she'd played like an idiot and gone out within twenty-four hours.
Jewel had no aspirations to Marvia's position in the pantheon of Season Sixty-Six, of course.
She turned a little, making sure her upper arm, and the bandanna around it, were visible.
"Ever see somebody die?" she asked.
The intercut walkie talkie conversation had been one of the highlights of Season Sixty-Five, so it stood to reason that they might provide opportunities to take the concept further. And she, Jewel, was the one entrusted with this. It was free face time handed right to her. Better than a gun. Only one set of these going around, almost certainly. And, of course, there was more underneath, food and cloth. She could see white, which made her want to groan but she didn't. Sometimes, people got assigned costumes that cramped their style. Nobody was forcing any of them to wear the stuff. She'd figure it out and cope.
Then there was the boy behind her, who she'd paid no further thought for the two seconds it took to confirm her gear but who she now allowed back into her mind. He wasn't planning to kill her. He'd come from behind the curtains she'd vaguely noticed, at the other end of the stage from where she'd pulled herself up. Had he been lurking? Probably someone wanting to make sure everything was safe before coming out. An early threat wouldn't have talked like he did. What would he mean to her, then? She swiveled, lowering herself into a fully seated position as she did. The frost nipped at her ass and legs through her skirt. She forced the smile to remain.
He was huge. She'd seen him around school. She probably had heard his name a dozen times in class, but it hadn't been important enough for her to commit it to memory. Maybe that would change now. Maybe not. She gestured towards him, beckoning him closer with her right index and middle. The hair on the back of her hand stood up. Her sleeves were still damp. Visibly?
The boy was wearing a hoodie and jeans and a beanie, which meant that he didn't have much going for him in the costume department but was probably warmer than she. He had a blue bandanna around his wrist, which meant he was an enemy in the long term. He had no weapon visible on him. He didn't seem unfriendly, but he was a big black man and it was early in the game, so probably she was getting focus right this second.
First impressions could make or break a contestant. Sometimes they faded, but often whether someone got talked about had to do with their first day showing, unless they later went on to make finals. Everyone remembered Marvia Jones for fucking Nate Chauncey, even though she'd played like an idiot and gone out within twenty-four hours.
Jewel had no aspirations to Marvia's position in the pantheon of Season Sixty-Six, of course.
She turned a little, making sure her upper arm, and the bandanna around it, were visible.
"Ever see somebody die?" she asked.
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delicateMachine
- Posts: 295
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- Location: void
((Erik Lowell: Begin))
"I'd complain about how undignified this is, but this jacket is really warm, so I g-guess it works out in the end?" Erik muttered to the camera, drawing the pirate's jacket closer to himself. It had clearly been meant for someone much taller than him, and he was fairly certain that he looked like a complete joke to any of the people that were watching him, but it was still better than freezing to death. Barely. The shotgun was getting really heavy, too, but there wasn't really anything he could do about that.
He'd always enjoyed coming up with hypothetical ways to survive if he'd ever been thrown into the game. What SOTF fan hadn't, at some point? It was easy to come up with rules and guidelines for yourself from the safety of your bedroom. All you had to do was find a decent weapon, not even anything too flashy, secure supplies for yourself, and lay low for as long as you could. It didn't really make for good viewing, yeah, but it's not like popularity got you any points in-game, right?
It was a tad harder to stick to a plan when you find yourself waking up in a building you've never seen before, frightened and freezing half to death.
Erik had sort of just quietly freaked out in the corner for a while before finally managing to bring himself to his senses enough to at least check his pack. He'd been fortunate enough to get some good equipment, at least. The Blackbeard costume was really tacky, true, and he didn't think he'd be able to even carry his shotgun well, let alone fire it, but that was still a lot better than what most people got!
Newly equipped and slightly more optimistic than he had been a minute ago, Erik's spirits fell as he noticed the camera on the wall for the first time. He nervously fidgeted for a second when he remembered that his rather embarrassing reaction upon waking up had been broadcast for the entire world to see. He mentally took back all the (rather cruel, in hindsight) jokes he'd made in the past about the poor sods who completely broke down when they realized the situation they were in.
Alright, it wasn't too late. He could still recover from this. Being popular wasn't a priority, sure, but Erik really didn't want to be made a fool of on natural TV.
"G-good day, kind viewers!" He'd said, standing up straight and making an attempt to brush the snow off of his jacket. "H-hope you're looking forward to this b-brand new, exciting season of Survival of the Fittest! I know I certainly was-" he caught himself at the last moment, "Er, I certainly am! First off, I'd like to thank all the lovely followers of The Fittest Blog of All. It'd been a g-great run, you guys, and I look forward to bringing you one last f-feature from me!" Erik made a grand gesture, his confidence slowly building. He had this down. "I, your humble reporter Erik Lowell, will be bringing you live coverage from SOTF itself!"
The words were coming easier to him, now, even though the damnable stutter refused to go away. He'd always wanted to be a full-fledged reporter, one day, so why waste the chance to play the part while he had it? Talking to the camera was almost calming, in a way. It made him feel like he wasn't quite so alone. "I bet you're as b-bored of this, uh..." it slowly dawned on Erik that he didn't actually know where he was. A closet, somewhere? "This, uh, place, as I am! Yeah! T-time to go out into the world!"
He'd walked for a while, after making his way out of the building, making periodic remarks to the cameras as he went, going nowhere in particular. A true journalist had to be on the lookout for stories anywhere, anytime, after all!
After a while of this, he came to what appeared to be an outdoor stage, two figures coming into focus as he got closer. Erik didn't recognize either, which made him rather uneasy. His classmates? He could deal with them, sure! He liked most of his classmates! And the faceless masses behind the cameras were, well, faceless, so he didn't have to worry too much about them. Kids from the other school, though? Erik had no idea what to expect!
"Uh, g-greetings!" Erik called out as he came closer to the stage. "I'm, uh, I'm not g-gonna shoot you! D-don't worry!" He nervously fidgeted with the rose-colored bandanna he'd tied around his neck, realizing that it wasn't exactly the most reassuring thing to tell someone you're not going to shoot them before they have a chance to even react to your greeting.
"I'd complain about how undignified this is, but this jacket is really warm, so I g-guess it works out in the end?" Erik muttered to the camera, drawing the pirate's jacket closer to himself. It had clearly been meant for someone much taller than him, and he was fairly certain that he looked like a complete joke to any of the people that were watching him, but it was still better than freezing to death. Barely. The shotgun was getting really heavy, too, but there wasn't really anything he could do about that.
He'd always enjoyed coming up with hypothetical ways to survive if he'd ever been thrown into the game. What SOTF fan hadn't, at some point? It was easy to come up with rules and guidelines for yourself from the safety of your bedroom. All you had to do was find a decent weapon, not even anything too flashy, secure supplies for yourself, and lay low for as long as you could. It didn't really make for good viewing, yeah, but it's not like popularity got you any points in-game, right?
It was a tad harder to stick to a plan when you find yourself waking up in a building you've never seen before, frightened and freezing half to death.
Erik had sort of just quietly freaked out in the corner for a while before finally managing to bring himself to his senses enough to at least check his pack. He'd been fortunate enough to get some good equipment, at least. The Blackbeard costume was really tacky, true, and he didn't think he'd be able to even carry his shotgun well, let alone fire it, but that was still a lot better than what most people got!
Newly equipped and slightly more optimistic than he had been a minute ago, Erik's spirits fell as he noticed the camera on the wall for the first time. He nervously fidgeted for a second when he remembered that his rather embarrassing reaction upon waking up had been broadcast for the entire world to see. He mentally took back all the (rather cruel, in hindsight) jokes he'd made in the past about the poor sods who completely broke down when they realized the situation they were in.
Alright, it wasn't too late. He could still recover from this. Being popular wasn't a priority, sure, but Erik really didn't want to be made a fool of on natural TV.
"G-good day, kind viewers!" He'd said, standing up straight and making an attempt to brush the snow off of his jacket. "H-hope you're looking forward to this b-brand new, exciting season of Survival of the Fittest! I know I certainly was-" he caught himself at the last moment, "Er, I certainly am! First off, I'd like to thank all the lovely followers of The Fittest Blog of All. It'd been a g-great run, you guys, and I look forward to bringing you one last f-feature from me!" Erik made a grand gesture, his confidence slowly building. He had this down. "I, your humble reporter Erik Lowell, will be bringing you live coverage from SOTF itself!"
The words were coming easier to him, now, even though the damnable stutter refused to go away. He'd always wanted to be a full-fledged reporter, one day, so why waste the chance to play the part while he had it? Talking to the camera was almost calming, in a way. It made him feel like he wasn't quite so alone. "I bet you're as b-bored of this, uh..." it slowly dawned on Erik that he didn't actually know where he was. A closet, somewhere? "This, uh, place, as I am! Yeah! T-time to go out into the world!"
He'd walked for a while, after making his way out of the building, making periodic remarks to the cameras as he went, going nowhere in particular. A true journalist had to be on the lookout for stories anywhere, anytime, after all!
After a while of this, he came to what appeared to be an outdoor stage, two figures coming into focus as he got closer. Erik didn't recognize either, which made him rather uneasy. His classmates? He could deal with them, sure! He liked most of his classmates! And the faceless masses behind the cameras were, well, faceless, so he didn't have to worry too much about them. Kids from the other school, though? Erik had no idea what to expect!
"Uh, g-greetings!" Erik called out as he came closer to the stage. "I'm, uh, I'm not g-gonna shoot you! D-don't worry!" He nervously fidgeted with the rose-colored bandanna he'd tied around his neck, realizing that it wasn't exactly the most reassuring thing to tell someone you're not going to shoot them before they have a chance to even react to your greeting.
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The Honeless Beard
- Posts: 894
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- Location: Got it? Good, now get inside.
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Dougie was already halfway across the stage at her beckoning gesture, vaguely uncomfortable and fidgety in the open area, knowing that there were cameras trained on his face, picking up the sound of his sneakers on the polished wood and the rasp of his fingers as they slid to the last knuckle into his jeans pockets, his green eyes taking in the girl fully for the first time.
He recognized her. Of course he did. Jewel was one of the more distinctive looks in Whittree, and that combined with a recognizable name had made her easy to spot in a crowd. He couldn’t say they’d had reason to interact beyond sharing the odd class, but she was a familiar face amidst a blank canvas, and the sight was welcome.
But when she opened her mouth, that welcoming, familiar feeling fled him, causing him to stop walking with a dozen feet separating them. Her query had his mouth twisting into a half-frown, one hand reaching upwards to tug lightly on the purple beanie, lowering it to cover the tips of his ears.
That was a joke, right? Or some theatrical shit? That was the sort of thing that the villain in Die Hard would say to the hero.
Ever seen a murder?
I’m about to.
He was spared from a response, however, by the loud voice of a newcomer - striding towards the stage, stuttering and stammering. Dougie pulled both hands from his pockets, widened his stance, and watched the boy as he approached - the creepy girl and her creepy question momentarily shoved to a lower space on the totem pole of priorities.
New kid had a pink bandanna, to go with Jewel’s black one and his own light blue.
The only response he had for the new kid was to nod his head tightly, eyes shifting between Jewel and Erik, his left foot easing backwards in case he needed to break and run.
He recognized her. Of course he did. Jewel was one of the more distinctive looks in Whittree, and that combined with a recognizable name had made her easy to spot in a crowd. He couldn’t say they’d had reason to interact beyond sharing the odd class, but she was a familiar face amidst a blank canvas, and the sight was welcome.
But when she opened her mouth, that welcoming, familiar feeling fled him, causing him to stop walking with a dozen feet separating them. Her query had his mouth twisting into a half-frown, one hand reaching upwards to tug lightly on the purple beanie, lowering it to cover the tips of his ears.
That was a joke, right? Or some theatrical shit? That was the sort of thing that the villain in Die Hard would say to the hero.
Ever seen a murder?
I’m about to.
He was spared from a response, however, by the loud voice of a newcomer - striding towards the stage, stuttering and stammering. Dougie pulled both hands from his pockets, widened his stance, and watched the boy as he approached - the creepy girl and her creepy question momentarily shoved to a lower space on the totem pole of priorities.
New kid had a pink bandanna, to go with Jewel’s black one and his own light blue.
The only response he had for the new kid was to nod his head tightly, eyes shifting between Jewel and Erik, his left foot easing backwards in case he needed to break and run.
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MurderWeasel
- Posts: 3448
- Joined: Mon Aug 06, 2018 9:56 am
- Team Affiliation: Jewel's Leviathans
No response. Perhaps the best reply she could hope for; it kept tension high. He stopped. She would have preferred he keep coming forward, but this would do. An energy pulsed between them. Hopefully it worked visually; her seated posture had to throw greater focus on his height. A pretty little tableau, but could she do anything with it?
Then the other boy appeared and called out. Jewel flicked her gaze towards him. She was sure even before she saw it that he had a gun—he'd specified he wouldn't shoot them, while those without guns usually fell back on more generic phrases, "I mean you no harm" and such. The gun, when she saw it, could easily have been from an old movie. She didn't know its name, but she felt its pull. Guns weren't everything. They weren't anything if not utilized. Jewel had never fired a gun in her life. She wanted to hold this one. It looked heavy and smooth. The frost beneath her was starting to melt, warmed by her body heat, and she could feel the wetness spreading across her legs. It would mean more chill.
"Hey," she called to the boy with the gun. Since the tall black kid wasn't going to answer, she could put him on ice for a bit and check out the newcomer. Old news would keep. The new boy was less interesting in appearance than his gun. Short. Sightly fat. Redhead. Wearing an oversize coat. Someone didn't know how to manage his image. She hoped they'd at least bothered fitting her provided outfit. It was basic respect.
Pink bandanna on the boy. Good that the two guys didn't share a team, though that would've ramped up the intrigue a bit.
"Come over." She didn't gesture now. Never do the same thing twice, unless it's made more interesting through repetition. That was something Zach had understood, no matter how the internet bitched about it. It was a lesson Jewel was working on internalizing. Now it was the boy's move, his turn to steer their course.
And the whole time, Jewel kept track of his gun, not staring at it, not being conspicuous, just knowing where it was. She didn't want to be surprised to find it pointing at her, and she didn't want to be taken aback by the bigger boy diving for it.
Then the other boy appeared and called out. Jewel flicked her gaze towards him. She was sure even before she saw it that he had a gun—he'd specified he wouldn't shoot them, while those without guns usually fell back on more generic phrases, "I mean you no harm" and such. The gun, when she saw it, could easily have been from an old movie. She didn't know its name, but she felt its pull. Guns weren't everything. They weren't anything if not utilized. Jewel had never fired a gun in her life. She wanted to hold this one. It looked heavy and smooth. The frost beneath her was starting to melt, warmed by her body heat, and she could feel the wetness spreading across her legs. It would mean more chill.
"Hey," she called to the boy with the gun. Since the tall black kid wasn't going to answer, she could put him on ice for a bit and check out the newcomer. Old news would keep. The new boy was less interesting in appearance than his gun. Short. Sightly fat. Redhead. Wearing an oversize coat. Someone didn't know how to manage his image. She hoped they'd at least bothered fitting her provided outfit. It was basic respect.
Pink bandanna on the boy. Good that the two guys didn't share a team, though that would've ramped up the intrigue a bit.
"Come over." She didn't gesture now. Never do the same thing twice, unless it's made more interesting through repetition. That was something Zach had understood, no matter how the internet bitched about it. It was a lesson Jewel was working on internalizing. Now it was the boy's move, his turn to steer their course.
And the whole time, Jewel kept track of his gun, not staring at it, not being conspicuous, just knowing where it was. She didn't want to be surprised to find it pointing at her, and she didn't want to be taken aback by the bigger boy diving for it.
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delicateMachine
- Posts: 295
- Joined: Tue Aug 07, 2018 6:26 pm
- Location: void
Good to see that the two were relatively cordial, especially considering that, upon closer inspection, neither were from Erik's team. Well, the goth girl was cordial. The tall guy just looked really tense, which was perfectly understandable.
"Uh, sure!" Erik nodded, smiling slightly. He kind of figured that there would be quite a few viewers going all "Don't do it man, it's a trap!" at home. Or, more likely, he supposed, going "Yeah, girl, get the gun from that dorky kid! He wasn't going to use it anyway!" Well, great journalists didn't become great by being scared off by the slightest hint of danger! He climbed up onto the stage, joining Jewel and Dougie.
He did his best to be as non-threatening as possible with his gun. It wasn't anything more than a deterrent, really. Erik had no plans on gunning anyone down, stranger or not. A reporter didn't shape the flow of events, they, well, reported on them! The only reason he was keeping it around, bulky as it was, so that any ruffians who didn't respect the sanctity of the news would stay away.
"So!" Erik began. "If we're g-going to talk for a bit, we should introduce ourselves, right? I'm Erik. With, uh, with a K. Erik Lowell." He would have extended his right hand out for a respectable handshake, but he sort of needed both hands to keep a good hold on the shotgun. If he dropped it, things probably wouldn't end up very well for anyone.
"Uh, sure!" Erik nodded, smiling slightly. He kind of figured that there would be quite a few viewers going all "Don't do it man, it's a trap!" at home. Or, more likely, he supposed, going "Yeah, girl, get the gun from that dorky kid! He wasn't going to use it anyway!" Well, great journalists didn't become great by being scared off by the slightest hint of danger! He climbed up onto the stage, joining Jewel and Dougie.
He did his best to be as non-threatening as possible with his gun. It wasn't anything more than a deterrent, really. Erik had no plans on gunning anyone down, stranger or not. A reporter didn't shape the flow of events, they, well, reported on them! The only reason he was keeping it around, bulky as it was, so that any ruffians who didn't respect the sanctity of the news would stay away.
"So!" Erik began. "If we're g-going to talk for a bit, we should introduce ourselves, right? I'm Erik. With, uh, with a K. Erik Lowell." He would have extended his right hand out for a respectable handshake, but he sort of needed both hands to keep a good hold on the shotgun. If he dropped it, things probably wouldn't end up very well for anyone.
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The Honeless Beard
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Dougie didn’t like this situation. Maybe it was the sick feeling in the pit of his stomach, a feeling that he attributed to the cameras he knew were watching their every move down to the most miniscule change of expression. Maybe it was the calm way that Jewel kept beckoning people towards her, without any real indication of an alliance, all but for that me too she had thrown his way which had been immediately distorted by her point blank question.
Or maybe it was just the game itself.
But he had the strange urge to warn Erik away from the stage, or warn Jewel to back off - just something, anything, to break this trio up. He was unsettled and tense, eyes tracking Erik’s movements, flitting between him and Jewel’s seated position, his back foot easing down onto the stage as he considered how fast he could get gone.
But he wanted - needed - to see this all play out. If something happened to Jewel or Erik after he disappeared, it’d be on him.
He knew that. Understood that.
So instead of running, he spoke.
“Dougie,” he said to Erik, and, hesitating, he pointed his chin at the girl on the stage.
“She’s Jewel.”
Or maybe it was just the game itself.
But he had the strange urge to warn Erik away from the stage, or warn Jewel to back off - just something, anything, to break this trio up. He was unsettled and tense, eyes tracking Erik’s movements, flitting between him and Jewel’s seated position, his back foot easing down onto the stage as he considered how fast he could get gone.
But he wanted - needed - to see this all play out. If something happened to Jewel or Erik after he disappeared, it’d be on him.
He knew that. Understood that.
So instead of running, he spoke.
“Dougie,” he said to Erik, and, hesitating, he pointed his chin at the girl on the stage.
“She’s Jewel.”
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MurderWeasel
- Posts: 3448
- Joined: Mon Aug 06, 2018 9:56 am
- Team Affiliation: Jewel's Leviathans
"Nice to meet you," Jewel said, "and your friend."
She nodded at the gun in Erik's hands and gave a little giggle.
"He's cute."
Dorky stuttering on the part of Erik was a sign that he was off balance. Dougie introducing her was a sign that he was going to take some initiative. A narrative was coalescing, but its shape was still mutable. Was Dougie trying to smooth over their interactions, or establish control of them? Was Erik off balance because he planned malice or because he was inexperienced or because of the cold?
Jewel shivered a little bit. Her hands came up and rubbed against her wrists, but the dampness wasn't coming out. Her exhalations were steam. When she was a little girl, they were dragon's breath and she was a dragon, waiting to burn away the cold and any knight who stood in her way. When she grew older, they were the condensation of moisture caused by a difference in internal and external temperature. She was cold outside, but inside she was warm. The reason she shivered now was that she was bleeding heat.
Her eyes weren't leaving the other two. She held the weakest hand. This was her advantage. Dougie, huge and powerful looking, could perhaps reach and challenge Erik, hefty but well armed. Jewel could stand up to neither in a fight. It was important that this be known.
"I got headsets," she said.
She held one up. Wires, box, microphone. Probably the best weapon in the game, if you weren't stupid. Were they stupid? Might they think she was? She shifted, trying to steal a little more comfort, but just managing to dig the rough frost harder against her ass. This very slight pressure built in her ears, and if she wasn't on camera she'd've yawned to clear it, but instead she clenched her jaw and worked it a little and hoped the pounding screaming banging splitting wasn't going to come back.
She nodded at the gun in Erik's hands and gave a little giggle.
"He's cute."
Dorky stuttering on the part of Erik was a sign that he was off balance. Dougie introducing her was a sign that he was going to take some initiative. A narrative was coalescing, but its shape was still mutable. Was Dougie trying to smooth over their interactions, or establish control of them? Was Erik off balance because he planned malice or because he was inexperienced or because of the cold?
Jewel shivered a little bit. Her hands came up and rubbed against her wrists, but the dampness wasn't coming out. Her exhalations were steam. When she was a little girl, they were dragon's breath and she was a dragon, waiting to burn away the cold and any knight who stood in her way. When she grew older, they were the condensation of moisture caused by a difference in internal and external temperature. She was cold outside, but inside she was warm. The reason she shivered now was that she was bleeding heat.
Her eyes weren't leaving the other two. She held the weakest hand. This was her advantage. Dougie, huge and powerful looking, could perhaps reach and challenge Erik, hefty but well armed. Jewel could stand up to neither in a fight. It was important that this be known.
"I got headsets," she said.
She held one up. Wires, box, microphone. Probably the best weapon in the game, if you weren't stupid. Were they stupid? Might they think she was? She shifted, trying to steal a little more comfort, but just managing to dig the rough frost harder against her ass. This very slight pressure built in her ears, and if she wasn't on camera she'd've yawned to clear it, but instead she clenched her jaw and worked it a little and hoped the pounding screaming banging splitting wasn't going to come back.
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delicateMachine
- Posts: 295
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"G-good to meet the both of you." Erik said after Dougie's brief introduction, nodding politely at the two. The mood was still sort of tense, which wasn't at all helped by Jewel's quiet giggling and adoration of his gun.
That was admittedly kind of weird. Hopefully not weird in any sort of ominous way, and Erik had met his fair share of rather odd people during his time in the SOTF fandom, but it was still kind of unnerving to have to question someone's sanity not even three minutes after meeting them for the first time. Erik chose not to respond, instead just smiling slightly and awkwardly shifting in place.
He couldn't really think of any appropriate way to break the ice. What sort of conversation starter would even work in the situation? "So, how are you?" "Oh, just fine, except for the whole murder thing, that's kind of a pain." Unable to break the silence (shamefully, for a reporter) Erik was grateful when Jewel did it for him, holding up something very interesting indeed.
"Very nice indeed." Erik said, nodding appreciatively, though he did question Jewel's motives in showing them what could be one of the most effective tools in game. None of them shared a team, after all, and Jewel didn't really seem like the type to just pair up with the first people who stumbled upon her, so what was her plan?
"So, uh, what exactly d-do you intend to do with those?" Erik asked. It was probably a bit too blunt, but that was how a no-nonsense, veteran reporter like himself had to behave. There was a lot to be said for politeness and dignity, of course, but when the time came, you had to be ready to relentlessly pounce on whatever lead came your way.
That was admittedly kind of weird. Hopefully not weird in any sort of ominous way, and Erik had met his fair share of rather odd people during his time in the SOTF fandom, but it was still kind of unnerving to have to question someone's sanity not even three minutes after meeting them for the first time. Erik chose not to respond, instead just smiling slightly and awkwardly shifting in place.
He couldn't really think of any appropriate way to break the ice. What sort of conversation starter would even work in the situation? "So, how are you?" "Oh, just fine, except for the whole murder thing, that's kind of a pain." Unable to break the silence (shamefully, for a reporter) Erik was grateful when Jewel did it for him, holding up something very interesting indeed.
"Very nice indeed." Erik said, nodding appreciatively, though he did question Jewel's motives in showing them what could be one of the most effective tools in game. None of them shared a team, after all, and Jewel didn't really seem like the type to just pair up with the first people who stumbled upon her, so what was her plan?
"So, uh, what exactly d-do you intend to do with those?" Erik asked. It was probably a bit too blunt, but that was how a no-nonsense, veteran reporter like himself had to behave. There was a lot to be said for politeness and dignity, of course, but when the time came, you had to be ready to relentlessly pounce on whatever lead came your way.
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The Honeless Beard
- Posts: 894
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- Location: Got it? Good, now get inside.
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The fact that Dougie didn't state his own weapon appeared to go over his two most unlikely of companions' heads, and he let it remain there. The less they knew about him at this juncture was probably best, and he found the situation hard enough to gauge as it was without tipping his hand.
His gaze landed on Jewel as he took a step forwards, closing the gap between the two and himself another foot or so. He was tense, wary, on edge. He didn't like the way Jewel had eyed Erik's gun.
Conversation ball was in her court, now. Dougie jammed his hands into his pockets, trying to affect an air of casual observation as his gaze roved over Jewel's face, looking for any hint, any betrayal, of motive.
His gaze landed on Jewel as he took a step forwards, closing the gap between the two and himself another foot or so. He was tense, wary, on edge. He didn't like the way Jewel had eyed Erik's gun.
Conversation ball was in her court, now. Dougie jammed his hands into his pockets, trying to affect an air of casual observation as his gaze roved over Jewel's face, looking for any hint, any betrayal, of motive.
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MurderWeasel
- Posts: 3448
- Joined: Mon Aug 06, 2018 9:56 am
- Team Affiliation: Jewel's Leviathans
"I don't know," Jewel said, raising her eyebrow. "What do you think I should do with them?"
Perhaps she would strangle him with the cord, was that what Erik thought? Perhaps she would hand them out to anyone who asked, play telephone? Perhaps she would organize her team with them, hunt down everyone else, bring Tiffany Dexter's dream to life.
There was a triangle on the stage, a triangle any time three people interacted, tension and lines of connection between them. Three people meant that two were allied against the third, but who and why shifted second by second. Seemed like presently, the odd one out was Jewel. Dougie said nothing, but he was closer now. Soon he could reach out and grab her, and she wouldn't stop him if he chose to do that.
Two boys and a girl. Two pawns and a queen? Mae St. Claire, Zach Johnston, and Shawn Morrison? No in all likelihood, not with their differing agendas, their opposed teams. The cameras would be watching to see how this resolved, watching with almost as much interest as Jewel. The team dynamic was too new. It ate at her just a little that she lacked the data to predict how this was going to go.
She zipped the backpack back up after dropping the headset into it, and then she slid her hands into the opposite sleeves of her jacket and hugged in close around herself. It would have been warmer to stand up and get her legs off this frozen stage, but it would have changed the composition too much.
Perhaps she would strangle him with the cord, was that what Erik thought? Perhaps she would hand them out to anyone who asked, play telephone? Perhaps she would organize her team with them, hunt down everyone else, bring Tiffany Dexter's dream to life.
There was a triangle on the stage, a triangle any time three people interacted, tension and lines of connection between them. Three people meant that two were allied against the third, but who and why shifted second by second. Seemed like presently, the odd one out was Jewel. Dougie said nothing, but he was closer now. Soon he could reach out and grab her, and she wouldn't stop him if he chose to do that.
Two boys and a girl. Two pawns and a queen? Mae St. Claire, Zach Johnston, and Shawn Morrison? No in all likelihood, not with their differing agendas, their opposed teams. The cameras would be watching to see how this resolved, watching with almost as much interest as Jewel. The team dynamic was too new. It ate at her just a little that she lacked the data to predict how this was going to go.
She zipped the backpack back up after dropping the headset into it, and then she slid her hands into the opposite sleeves of her jacket and hugged in close around herself. It would have been warmer to stand up and get her legs off this frozen stage, but it would have changed the composition too much.
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delicateMachine
- Posts: 295
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Erik noted with a twinge of nervousness that Dougie had come a bit closer to Jewel and himself. Though he seemed to be trying to appear nonchalant, it'd be all too easy for him to rush Erik and get a hold of his gun. Still, he hadn't done anything outwardly threatening and if you couldn't trust a complete stranger in a life-or-death situation, who could you trust?
Alright, maybe not the best figurative question for the situation.
Jewel's evasiveness was grating a small bit, though. Dougie might be tense, but Jewel didn't seem to be showing any signs of nervousness. Heck, on further reflection, she seemed to be enjoying being as ambiguous as humanly possible. That just wouldn't do.
"C-can't say I have anything in mind, unless you're somehow willing to just g-give them away to the first one who asks, and I somehow doubt that." Erik shrugged. "Fair enough, but I d-do have to wonder. Why show them to us? I mean, uh, why did you even c-call me over here in the first place? You don't really seem the t-type to just do something without a reason, so what's your plan?"
That might have been crossing the line into dangerous territory, but Erik didn't want to awkwardly best around the bush for much longer. He would have been all for pleasant conversation, sure, but the atmosphere had only made him steadily more uneasy as time went on.
Alright, maybe not the best figurative question for the situation.
Jewel's evasiveness was grating a small bit, though. Dougie might be tense, but Jewel didn't seem to be showing any signs of nervousness. Heck, on further reflection, she seemed to be enjoying being as ambiguous as humanly possible. That just wouldn't do.
"C-can't say I have anything in mind, unless you're somehow willing to just g-give them away to the first one who asks, and I somehow doubt that." Erik shrugged. "Fair enough, but I d-do have to wonder. Why show them to us? I mean, uh, why did you even c-call me over here in the first place? You don't really seem the t-type to just do something without a reason, so what's your plan?"
That might have been crossing the line into dangerous territory, but Erik didn't want to awkwardly best around the bush for much longer. He would have been all for pleasant conversation, sure, but the atmosphere had only made him steadily more uneasy as time went on.
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The Honeless Beard
- Posts: 894
- Joined: Sat Aug 25, 2018 4:47 am
- Location: Got it? Good, now get inside.
- Team Affiliation: Emmy's Selkies
This entire situation was wrong.
Everything about it - the feeling in the air, Jewel's pointed questions and evasive answers, Erik's stuttering and stammering, trying to dig to the bottom of the mess - conspired to make Dougie's unease increase tenfold. He didn't know who the threat was, where the danger lay most - the shaky kid with a gun, or the girl with the level gaze and cool voice.
He didn't step closer for fear of spooking Erik, or causing Jewel to react to spook Erik further. And all Dougie knew was that whatever Jewel would've said in response, he didn't want to hear it.
"It doesn't matter," he interjected, more gruffly than he intended, zipping up his hoodie further, "does it? Not trying to be rude, but you're - you've got a gun."
Dougie shoved his large hands into his sweater pockets, shifted slightly - and took another smaller step towards Jewel, his body turned fully towards Erik.
"She- Jewel, and me - we don't have one of those, so it's more a question of what you're planning to do with yours that's more of a concern - then like - what she's going to do. And... yeah."
As he spoke, his voice got quieter and quieter, his gaze rooted to the floor in front of Erik, uncomfortable all over again. He was practically center stage, with a girl on the ground near him, facing empty chairs and a kid with a gun.
Dougie bunched his shoulders higher, pushed his hands deeper, and wished he could disappear.
Everything about it - the feeling in the air, Jewel's pointed questions and evasive answers, Erik's stuttering and stammering, trying to dig to the bottom of the mess - conspired to make Dougie's unease increase tenfold. He didn't know who the threat was, where the danger lay most - the shaky kid with a gun, or the girl with the level gaze and cool voice.
He didn't step closer for fear of spooking Erik, or causing Jewel to react to spook Erik further. And all Dougie knew was that whatever Jewel would've said in response, he didn't want to hear it.
"It doesn't matter," he interjected, more gruffly than he intended, zipping up his hoodie further, "does it? Not trying to be rude, but you're - you've got a gun."
Dougie shoved his large hands into his sweater pockets, shifted slightly - and took another smaller step towards Jewel, his body turned fully towards Erik.
"She- Jewel, and me - we don't have one of those, so it's more a question of what you're planning to do with yours that's more of a concern - then like - what she's going to do. And... yeah."
As he spoke, his voice got quieter and quieter, his gaze rooted to the floor in front of Erik, uncomfortable all over again. He was practically center stage, with a girl on the ground near him, facing empty chairs and a kid with a gun.
Dougie bunched his shoulders higher, pushed his hands deeper, and wished he could disappear.
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MurderWeasel
- Posts: 3448
- Joined: Mon Aug 06, 2018 9:56 am
- Team Affiliation: Jewel's Leviathans
"I don't have any plans," Jewel did not say. "I just wanted to see what you were doing."
"I actually am willing to give you one," she also did not say, "if you have a good reason I should."
The triangle shifted. She and Dougie were now stood opposite Erik, and Dougie said that her answer didn't matter, so good ally that she momentarily was, she did not undercut him by sharing. He'd said "we", and that word in this context was magic. And right now, Jewel was sitting and Dougie was standing almost above and alongside her, and did that make him her knight or her his captive?
The air was very cold and she could see that with every breath she let out, little puffs of smoke escaping from her mouth and then spreading into nothingness. They came faster and lighter now, matching the pounding that was no longer in her head and ears but instead had migrated to her heart. The hair on the back of her neck was standing up, and the hair on her arms; goosebumps formed against the breeze. She did not shake. Her earrings were very cold, the metal conducting the chill, and she realized that as soon as she found a time to do so inconspicuously, she should take them out. She had seen things torn out of people before.
It was Erik who held the microphone now, Erik's show and Dougie as his opposition, and Jewel, she was nearly a piece of scenery. That would have to change in the long run, but for now it could be as it was. She was a team player. She could perform what was required of her.
She took her hands out of her sleeves and rubbed them lightly against the tops of her thighs, fingers pressing against her skirt and the thin fabric of her leggings underneath. She was trying to work a little more warmth into herself.
"I actually am willing to give you one," she also did not say, "if you have a good reason I should."
The triangle shifted. She and Dougie were now stood opposite Erik, and Dougie said that her answer didn't matter, so good ally that she momentarily was, she did not undercut him by sharing. He'd said "we", and that word in this context was magic. And right now, Jewel was sitting and Dougie was standing almost above and alongside her, and did that make him her knight or her his captive?
The air was very cold and she could see that with every breath she let out, little puffs of smoke escaping from her mouth and then spreading into nothingness. They came faster and lighter now, matching the pounding that was no longer in her head and ears but instead had migrated to her heart. The hair on the back of her neck was standing up, and the hair on her arms; goosebumps formed against the breeze. She did not shake. Her earrings were very cold, the metal conducting the chill, and she realized that as soon as she found a time to do so inconspicuously, she should take them out. She had seen things torn out of people before.
It was Erik who held the microphone now, Erik's show and Dougie as his opposition, and Jewel, she was nearly a piece of scenery. That would have to change in the long run, but for now it could be as it was. She was a team player. She could perform what was required of her.
She took her hands out of her sleeves and rubbed them lightly against the tops of her thighs, fingers pressing against her skirt and the thin fabric of her leggings underneath. She was trying to work a little more warmth into herself.