((Faith Clementine Marshal-Mackenzie continued from Do It, Try It))
Faith looped the laces of her new shoes around her fingers and tugged, the sun-bleached fabric tightening around her feet, before being topped with a knot. She rolled her feet slightly as she stood up and took a few steps back and forth, trying to get used to the feeling of what it would be like to walk in them. It wasn't great. The soles were thick, and they were made for someone with wider feet than her, but they'd keep the dirt away from her feet - Which was more than she could say for her old pair. They stretched the definition of the word shoes by now, with just scraps of glue and a few threads of stitching keeping them together, coated with a thick layer of mud.
She squinted into the darkness again, looking behind herself now, at where Connor was sleeping. They'd agreed to stop off here until dawn, just to rest and get some sleep after the sliver of moonlight that had been saving them from needing flashlights disappeared behind the clouds. The topic of a watch hadn't come up. It had seemed pointless, given how dark it was and how little time there was left in the night, they'd be fine as long as they got moving quickly the next day.
That didn't make doing what she was about to do feel any less like a betrayal though.
Faith had pretended to be asleep for a while, keeping her eyes closed and breathing shallow, until she was sure Connor was asleep. There could be no argument that way, no confrontation, as she got up and prepared to take what little she had left away from here. It was only by sheer chance she'd even noticed the oddity in the treeline they'd taken shelter by, and stopped to pick down a few pairs of shoes. It felt like a stroke of luck, the first one she'd had in weeks, to finally have something that wasn't falling apart.
Maybe it was a sign?
Faith took in a deep breath, and nodded her head a few times, trying to reaffirm that thought. She could do this, it was the right thing for her to do. Connor had called staying in their old group a born-to-lose thing, and this felt exactly the same. She couldn't just hide and wait. She adjusted the strap to her bag, hiking it up a little further so that it wouldn't bang against her hip as she walked.
The first aid kit and empty bottles rattled.
Meet Me in the City
Day 11, Early Morning. Private.
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Frozen Smoke
- Posts: 533
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Meet Me in the City
Criticism or thoughts on my writing are welcome and appreciated - always looking to improve! Feel free to poke me on Discord or via PM.
Sleep was fleeting eleven days into Survival of the Fittest. Most of George Hunter High School's class of 2018 was dead, slumbering for all eternity. For those that remained, anxiety and a near-constant state of panic was the default state of being. Sleeping in such conditions was difficult, if not impossible. For someone who had never really had great difficulty finding the way towards dreamland, Connor Lorenzen had slept less and less with each passing day.
Would this be his final day on Earth?
((Connor Lorenzen continued from Do It, Try It))
That thought and many like it dominated his mind as the duo had made shelter into the forested area and towards the strange, unusual tree full of shoes. The last time he had come upon this bizarre landmark, Ace had been here. His teammate, his friend. Currently, the only other member of the GHHS Football team to continue to draw breath. At the time, Ivy Langley had been with him, her presence an unwanted perk of the horrific situation that had befallen all of them. At the time, Connor had wanted nothing to do with Ivy — her betrayal of Bret for his own brother still causing his blood to boil at the mere thought of it. Her casual admittance to Bret at his after-prom party had proved to be a blow to the relationships between the brothers, Connor himself trying not to take a side. It had been a tricky situation that had concerned him up until the final day of the trip.
All of the principals in that little ordeal were now dead.
That had been his final thought of the night before fatigue had overtaken him, his dreams populated by strange visions of being in the middle of a huddle, except all of his teammates were broken-down, zombified versions of themselves. He had to find Ace, he had to get away from them all before they got to him. Ace would help him. Ace was still on his side. If his father couldn't help him, Ace might be an ally.
In the dream, he managed to scramble away from the team, he managed to find the running back — yet Ace had no face. Ace had forfeited his humanity, whether by accident or on purpose, and Connor saw that he had taken the wrongest of turns. He would find no salvation here. His feet wouldn't move, he couldn't run back the other way. There was nowhere else to go. Nowhere else to turn, only—
Something loudly clinked together, and he sat upright with a start.
Wiping sweat from his brow, he looked around, his weary eyes trying to catch focus within the dim light on anything that might represent a threat to him and Faith. Thankfully, Connor wasn't someone who needed time to wake up; the second his eyes were open, he was in the game. Getting an early start on the day had served him well in the past. Indeed, it seemed as though it was doing its part to keep him in this particular game. Scanning around, he saw no one, except one solitary figure, looking at him with an unusual expression on her face.
Blinking, he scanned the area and — of course — he understood.
"You're leaving," he broke the silence, his tone neither accusatory or disdainful. It was simply a fact.
Wiping some of the sweat — more grime or grease at this point — from his face, Connor didn't make a move to stand up, to stop her. Faith had been doing much like he had thus far, hedging her bets. Part of the reason that she still survived was thanks to her instincts. If her instincts said that leaving Connor Lorenzen behind was the right call, well...
Karma was evidently a bitch.
"What's your plan, then? Y'all have one, right?"
His tone still remained neutral, genuine curiosity slightly poking through.
Would this be his final day on Earth?
((Connor Lorenzen continued from Do It, Try It))
That thought and many like it dominated his mind as the duo had made shelter into the forested area and towards the strange, unusual tree full of shoes. The last time he had come upon this bizarre landmark, Ace had been here. His teammate, his friend. Currently, the only other member of the GHHS Football team to continue to draw breath. At the time, Ivy Langley had been with him, her presence an unwanted perk of the horrific situation that had befallen all of them. At the time, Connor had wanted nothing to do with Ivy — her betrayal of Bret for his own brother still causing his blood to boil at the mere thought of it. Her casual admittance to Bret at his after-prom party had proved to be a blow to the relationships between the brothers, Connor himself trying not to take a side. It had been a tricky situation that had concerned him up until the final day of the trip.
All of the principals in that little ordeal were now dead.
That had been his final thought of the night before fatigue had overtaken him, his dreams populated by strange visions of being in the middle of a huddle, except all of his teammates were broken-down, zombified versions of themselves. He had to find Ace, he had to get away from them all before they got to him. Ace would help him. Ace was still on his side. If his father couldn't help him, Ace might be an ally.
In the dream, he managed to scramble away from the team, he managed to find the running back — yet Ace had no face. Ace had forfeited his humanity, whether by accident or on purpose, and Connor saw that he had taken the wrongest of turns. He would find no salvation here. His feet wouldn't move, he couldn't run back the other way. There was nowhere else to go. Nowhere else to turn, only—
Something loudly clinked together, and he sat upright with a start.
Wiping sweat from his brow, he looked around, his weary eyes trying to catch focus within the dim light on anything that might represent a threat to him and Faith. Thankfully, Connor wasn't someone who needed time to wake up; the second his eyes were open, he was in the game. Getting an early start on the day had served him well in the past. Indeed, it seemed as though it was doing its part to keep him in this particular game. Scanning around, he saw no one, except one solitary figure, looking at him with an unusual expression on her face.
Blinking, he scanned the area and — of course — he understood.
"You're leaving," he broke the silence, his tone neither accusatory or disdainful. It was simply a fact.
Wiping some of the sweat — more grime or grease at this point — from his face, Connor didn't make a move to stand up, to stop her. Faith had been doing much like he had thus far, hedging her bets. Part of the reason that she still survived was thanks to her instincts. If her instincts said that leaving Connor Lorenzen behind was the right call, well...
Karma was evidently a bitch.
"What's your plan, then? Y'all have one, right?"
His tone still remained neutral, genuine curiosity slightly poking through.
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Super Weegee
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((Matthew Hunt continued from Do it, Try it))
Three hours - or was it four? - was all the shut-eye Matthew got when he finally managed to stop twisting and turning. Sleeping outside had never been comfortable, but he'd always find that one position that he was content with. Now? Absolutely nothing seemed to work and he tried every position from lying flat on his back to leaning against one of the trees.
All the while, he couldn't stop thinking about yesterday.
Justin actually tried to murder me. What the fuck did I do to him? Did Shauna and Angie do something to piss him off and they just didn't say anything? I should've made sure he stayed down that way the girls would still be alive and they wouldn't have to worry about him hurting anyone else what if he recovers and decides to come after me there's no reason for him not to since-
That was the last coherent thought before he drifted off into unconsciousness. The next time he opened his eyes, darkness was beginning to clear the way for the light and his body demanded that he get some more rest. Whether that is truly the case or if he really just wants to delay his inevitable death, he nevertheless forced himself to his feet to prepare for the rest of today.
He grabbed his bag on his side and dug through it until he found his map again, which by now was wrinkled and had a couple tears. After pinpointing his general area, he decided to head to one of location of interest marked on the map.
"Alright..." Matthew muttered to himself, folding the map back up before stowing it away, "...time to see what the fuck a shoe tree is..."
Picking his precious guns off the ground next to him, slinging the rifle over his back and carrying the shotgun in his hands, he began to walk towards the general direction of this strangely named tree.
Three hours - or was it four? - was all the shut-eye Matthew got when he finally managed to stop twisting and turning. Sleeping outside had never been comfortable, but he'd always find that one position that he was content with. Now? Absolutely nothing seemed to work and he tried every position from lying flat on his back to leaning against one of the trees.
All the while, he couldn't stop thinking about yesterday.
Justin actually tried to murder me. What the fuck did I do to him? Did Shauna and Angie do something to piss him off and they just didn't say anything? I should've made sure he stayed down that way the girls would still be alive and they wouldn't have to worry about him hurting anyone else what if he recovers and decides to come after me there's no reason for him not to since-
That was the last coherent thought before he drifted off into unconsciousness. The next time he opened his eyes, darkness was beginning to clear the way for the light and his body demanded that he get some more rest. Whether that is truly the case or if he really just wants to delay his inevitable death, he nevertheless forced himself to his feet to prepare for the rest of today.
He grabbed his bag on his side and dug through it until he found his map again, which by now was wrinkled and had a couple tears. After pinpointing his general area, he decided to head to one of location of interest marked on the map.
"Alright..." Matthew muttered to himself, folding the map back up before stowing it away, "...time to see what the fuck a shoe tree is..."
Picking his precious guns off the ground next to him, slinging the rifle over his back and carrying the shotgun in his hands, he began to walk towards the general direction of this strangely named tree.
V8 Relationships Thread
Brook Peterson
Lula Gray Any thoughts or criticisms on my writing are welcome and appreciated! Feel free to message me on Discord.
Brook Peterson
Lula Gray Any thoughts or criticisms on my writing are welcome and appreciated! Feel free to message me on Discord.
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Frozen Smoke
- Posts: 533
- Joined: Mon Aug 13, 2018 3:50 pm
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Faith froze in place as the noise registered with her. Everything felt terribly still for a moment, as she stopped mid-breath, as if any other fraction of a sound might be enough to tip the balance. But then, the sound of motion, fabric rustling, before a torso rose up from the floor to look back at her. She should have known that Connor wouldn't have the decency to be a deep sleeper, and just let her leave without getting a final word in.
She was glad it was too dark to really make out his features properly, covered in long shadows and cast in greyscale by the dim moonlight as he spoke. It meant she didn't have to see the look that was on his face, even though she could imagine it, his mouth pinched tight with something between pain and disgust. All she could really make out were his eyes, and that was bad enough, locked onto her in a way that made her feel as though he was glaring a hole through her very soul.
He was right, of course. But there didn't seem to be much point in confirming something he seemed so sure of to begin with.
"What's your plan, then? Y'all have one, right?"
Faith did not have a plan. That wasn't what this was about, not that she could point to one thing that this was about, anyway. It was everything. A hundred and one little things that were wrong, from having barely any supplies left, to the fact that she hadn't seen anyone who wasn't Connor for three days. That he'd made her hide in a shack whilst the last few people they knew died. That he couldn't even handle a conversation about how they could approach things differently. It all bubbled up, every reason feeling important, but somehow not enough to explain why staying felt so wrong. Frustration burnt in her chest as she tried to figure out what to say.
How could he even ask that question, anyway?
"Shit. What's your plan, Connor?" Faith spat back. "Because for the past 3 days, it's been fucking 'wait for death', as far I can tell."
She swallowed, expression hardening a little. She could hear her heartbeat again as she let out a shaky breath, the rush of adrenaline from having said all that not being quite enough to cover up the feeling that she'd made a horrible mistake, as her mind caught up with her mouth.
She was glad it was too dark to really make out his features properly, covered in long shadows and cast in greyscale by the dim moonlight as he spoke. It meant she didn't have to see the look that was on his face, even though she could imagine it, his mouth pinched tight with something between pain and disgust. All she could really make out were his eyes, and that was bad enough, locked onto her in a way that made her feel as though he was glaring a hole through her very soul.
He was right, of course. But there didn't seem to be much point in confirming something he seemed so sure of to begin with.
"What's your plan, then? Y'all have one, right?"
Faith did not have a plan. That wasn't what this was about, not that she could point to one thing that this was about, anyway. It was everything. A hundred and one little things that were wrong, from having barely any supplies left, to the fact that she hadn't seen anyone who wasn't Connor for three days. That he'd made her hide in a shack whilst the last few people they knew died. That he couldn't even handle a conversation about how they could approach things differently. It all bubbled up, every reason feeling important, but somehow not enough to explain why staying felt so wrong. Frustration burnt in her chest as she tried to figure out what to say.
How could he even ask that question, anyway?
"Shit. What's your plan, Connor?" Faith spat back. "Because for the past 3 days, it's been fucking 'wait for death', as far I can tell."
She swallowed, expression hardening a little. She could hear her heartbeat again as she let out a shaky breath, the rush of adrenaline from having said all that not being quite enough to cover up the feeling that she'd made a horrible mistake, as her mind caught up with her mouth.
Criticism or thoughts on my writing are welcome and appreciated - always looking to improve! Feel free to poke me on Discord or via PM.
This was why it had been simpler to walk alone. Immediately upon waking up and realizing what was going on, trying not to give his late teacher's very public demise a second thought, Connor Lorenzen had put surviving at the very top of the list. Initially, forming a team seemed to be a smart call, an assumption that was quickly put to bed by the volatile personalities that he woke up around. Trying to make his way solo worked for a while, but the whole time, he told himself over and over — avoid your friends. Avoid anyone that you knew before. Avoid Wyatt and Madison, Ace and Bret. Even avoid your peripheral friends like Faith or your former friends like Ivy.
Steer clear, because that was the nature of the beast; the name of the game.
Could you kill your friends?
No, he'd decided off the bat — not that it was much of a decision. Rather, he knew deep down within himself that he wasn't capable of murder. Most people who found their friends in this godforsaken place would be doomed to die beside them, or even worse — by their hand. Besides, his father would be massing the cavalry and charging to the rescue. With the capital that he had, hiring whomever he needed to and finding their location would be a foregone conclusion.
Except it hadn't been.
Faith was calling him out, her own personal agenda didn't seem to match up with his methodical and calculated approach to survival, which really wasn't all that difficult. It was a simple game plan, the earliest one that he'd seen fit to call.
"Survive. Just survive."
There wasn't more to it than that, and saying it out loud to someone else almost felt like he was betraying a confidence. The tone of his voice stayed neutral, a stark contrast to the venom that had found its way into Faith's. She could be mad all she wanted. Connor knew it would stand her in poor stead once she left the area. He felt his own blood pressure slowly rising, mirroring her anger, but he kept his composure.
"Ain't any more or any less than that. I'm not waiting to die, Faith. What I'm waiting for," he cut himself off, biting his lip. "Well, it ain't that."
A slip. Shit.
He stood up, straightening to his full height, nearly six and a half feet. It wasn't intended to be a threatening gesture — okay, perhaps it wasn't altogether altruistic. Faith could leave if she wanted to, but after such deprivation, everyone's nerves were frayed. He couldn't imagine she would turn violent, but...
Imagination was such a fickle beast nowadays.
Steer clear, because that was the nature of the beast; the name of the game.
Could you kill your friends?
No, he'd decided off the bat — not that it was much of a decision. Rather, he knew deep down within himself that he wasn't capable of murder. Most people who found their friends in this godforsaken place would be doomed to die beside them, or even worse — by their hand. Besides, his father would be massing the cavalry and charging to the rescue. With the capital that he had, hiring whomever he needed to and finding their location would be a foregone conclusion.
Except it hadn't been.
Faith was calling him out, her own personal agenda didn't seem to match up with his methodical and calculated approach to survival, which really wasn't all that difficult. It was a simple game plan, the earliest one that he'd seen fit to call.
"Survive. Just survive."
There wasn't more to it than that, and saying it out loud to someone else almost felt like he was betraying a confidence. The tone of his voice stayed neutral, a stark contrast to the venom that had found its way into Faith's. She could be mad all she wanted. Connor knew it would stand her in poor stead once she left the area. He felt his own blood pressure slowly rising, mirroring her anger, but he kept his composure.
"Ain't any more or any less than that. I'm not waiting to die, Faith. What I'm waiting for," he cut himself off, biting his lip. "Well, it ain't that."
A slip. Shit.
He stood up, straightening to his full height, nearly six and a half feet. It wasn't intended to be a threatening gesture — okay, perhaps it wasn't altogether altruistic. Faith could leave if she wanted to, but after such deprivation, everyone's nerves were frayed. He couldn't imagine she would turn violent, but...
Imagination was such a fickle beast nowadays.
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Frozen Smoke
- Posts: 533
- Joined: Mon Aug 13, 2018 3:50 pm
- Location: Where I need to be
Faith took a half-step backwards as Connor rose up to his full height, eyes flicking to his hands as he moved, straining to make out a glint of anything in the darkness. She couldn't see anything. He'd not been violent before, either. He was still her friend, and the last person she could call that left on the island. All of those thoughts burned like needle pricks, as she moved her hands around on the pole of her warscythe, and brought it to the ready - Blade pointing in Connor's direction.
"Woah, woah." Faith said, voice strained by a mixture of concern and fear, as she shook her head from side to side. "Stay there. No closer."
A few seconds of tense silence let the threat of him using his words as cover to charge her felt less pressing, and she began to process what he'd said. She picked at his words suspiciously, like the food at a run-down restaurant, expecting something to ooze unsatisfyingly between her teeth upon final inspection. He was bound to be doing something to try and get her on side, trying to find some way to get her to not do what felt right, and she knew he could do it. That was why she was here to begin with. Leaving Forrest and her group hadn't felt right, but she'd gone along with it anyway.
Survive. That felt honest enough, though, it was all they'd tried to do for the past few days. Find food, find water, find shelter. Repeat. But calling that alone 'surviving' felt like an insult. It was nothing to live for, cowering in fear at every broken branch, trying to avoid anything that came close to another person. The chances that either of them actually lived through this, the type of surviving that actually mattered, stayed the same. Next to nothing.
"What are you waiting for, then? Because, as far as I can see, both of us are going to die here -"
Faith swallowed the lump that formed in her throat after a momentary pause. She hadn't meant to put it quite so bluntly.
"- just a matter of time. And what we do before then."
"Woah, woah." Faith said, voice strained by a mixture of concern and fear, as she shook her head from side to side. "Stay there. No closer."
A few seconds of tense silence let the threat of him using his words as cover to charge her felt less pressing, and she began to process what he'd said. She picked at his words suspiciously, like the food at a run-down restaurant, expecting something to ooze unsatisfyingly between her teeth upon final inspection. He was bound to be doing something to try and get her on side, trying to find some way to get her to not do what felt right, and she knew he could do it. That was why she was here to begin with. Leaving Forrest and her group hadn't felt right, but she'd gone along with it anyway.
Survive. That felt honest enough, though, it was all they'd tried to do for the past few days. Find food, find water, find shelter. Repeat. But calling that alone 'surviving' felt like an insult. It was nothing to live for, cowering in fear at every broken branch, trying to avoid anything that came close to another person. The chances that either of them actually lived through this, the type of surviving that actually mattered, stayed the same. Next to nothing.
"What are you waiting for, then? Because, as far as I can see, both of us are going to die here -"
Faith swallowed the lump that formed in her throat after a momentary pause. She hadn't meant to put it quite so bluntly.
"- just a matter of time. And what we do before then."
Criticism or thoughts on my writing are welcome and appreciated - always looking to improve! Feel free to poke me on Discord or via PM.
Just like that, the claws came out. Not the claws per se, but the wicked-looking war scythe that had served as their one layer of protection against their demented former classmates was now pointed squarely at him. Eyes widening, he held his hands up in a defensive position, palms out. He didn't intend any foul intent upon Faith, but he couldn't entirely blame her for thinking he had.
Nor did he entirely know if she felt the same.
"Hold on, hold on, hold on," he repeated softly as though trying to talk the weapon away from him. "I ain't doing a thing, Faith. You know me, I wouldn't— I'm not... come on, now."
Her questions came thick and without the benefit of a filter, her brusque interpretation of their situation was a little more on-the-nose than he wanted to admit. At this point, rescue wasn't coming. No one was going to pound down the door at the last minute and stop what had already happened from progressing any further.
In mere days time, George Hunter High School's senior trip would return home, and they would only need one seat on that bus.
At this point, Connor knew he was at an impasse. Faith was asking for answers and the only answer he could give her was the truth. Anything more, and she would see right through it. When he did so, she would see exactly what kind of person he was; the self-proclaimed leader was nothing more than a scared little boy, waiting for his daddy to come charging to the rescue.
It was pathetic; it was that more than anything that pissed him off.
"Dying," he managed through clenched teeth, "wasn't the plan. Someone," the kindness fell away from his tone, leaving him sounding as exhausted and frustrated as he felt, "was supposed to have been here by now."
He felt the tone of his voice starting to rise.
"What would y'all have me do, Faith? Go lookin' for classmates to gut? Is that how you'd like to play it now? If I could have done a damn thing, don't you think I would have? Y'all think I enjoyed watching Wyatt storm off and swear his vengeance, knowing full well where it was gonna take him?"
Connor's voice boomed around the area, echoing through the branches of the massive shoe tree.
"I've lost people too, Faith. Hearing what happened to Bret, to Madison? Listening to how many people that Ace has gone and fucking killed, you think that I like listening to all of that? Y'all think that I'm not replaying it over and over in my head and imagining what their last moments must have been like, not feelin' guilty at the fact that we're still here and they aren't? I'm just doing the best I can with what I've got and trying not to end up dead."
Fists clenched, Connor resisted every urge he had to kick or punch the tree beside him. Days upon days had passed and he was finally hitting his limits. Faith wanted to know what he was waiting for?
Fine.
"What am I waiting for? I'm sittin' here hoping against hope that maybe we get lucky, maybe someone actually finds us. There's so much Godforsaken old money in Chattanooga, hell — in my own damned family's bank account, that you'd think someone might actually use it towards finding this place and getting us out of here. An' on the off-chance that they actually do? It might help to be alive when they show up!"
Exhaling from his nose, Connor tried to calm himself down. He hadn't been this mad since his last big fight with Madison. Since the night she'd told him she loved him. Thinking; knowing that he should have reciprocated and it had become a fight only made him that much more upset. Still, he lowered his voice and unclenched his fists, staring her directly in the eyes.
"Steering clear of everyone else is all we've got and if you don't want that," Connor gestured to the scythe, "then I guess you know what you've got to do because I want no part of that."
Faith had wanted her answers; she had them. What she did with them, Connor knew would go a long way towards determining his own fate over the next few moments.
Nor did he entirely know if she felt the same.
"Hold on, hold on, hold on," he repeated softly as though trying to talk the weapon away from him. "I ain't doing a thing, Faith. You know me, I wouldn't— I'm not... come on, now."
Her questions came thick and without the benefit of a filter, her brusque interpretation of their situation was a little more on-the-nose than he wanted to admit. At this point, rescue wasn't coming. No one was going to pound down the door at the last minute and stop what had already happened from progressing any further.
In mere days time, George Hunter High School's senior trip would return home, and they would only need one seat on that bus.
At this point, Connor knew he was at an impasse. Faith was asking for answers and the only answer he could give her was the truth. Anything more, and she would see right through it. When he did so, she would see exactly what kind of person he was; the self-proclaimed leader was nothing more than a scared little boy, waiting for his daddy to come charging to the rescue.
It was pathetic; it was that more than anything that pissed him off.
"Dying," he managed through clenched teeth, "wasn't the plan. Someone," the kindness fell away from his tone, leaving him sounding as exhausted and frustrated as he felt, "was supposed to have been here by now."
He felt the tone of his voice starting to rise.
"What would y'all have me do, Faith? Go lookin' for classmates to gut? Is that how you'd like to play it now? If I could have done a damn thing, don't you think I would have? Y'all think I enjoyed watching Wyatt storm off and swear his vengeance, knowing full well where it was gonna take him?"
Connor's voice boomed around the area, echoing through the branches of the massive shoe tree.
"I've lost people too, Faith. Hearing what happened to Bret, to Madison? Listening to how many people that Ace has gone and fucking killed, you think that I like listening to all of that? Y'all think that I'm not replaying it over and over in my head and imagining what their last moments must have been like, not feelin' guilty at the fact that we're still here and they aren't? I'm just doing the best I can with what I've got and trying not to end up dead."
Fists clenched, Connor resisted every urge he had to kick or punch the tree beside him. Days upon days had passed and he was finally hitting his limits. Faith wanted to know what he was waiting for?
Fine.
"What am I waiting for? I'm sittin' here hoping against hope that maybe we get lucky, maybe someone actually finds us. There's so much Godforsaken old money in Chattanooga, hell — in my own damned family's bank account, that you'd think someone might actually use it towards finding this place and getting us out of here. An' on the off-chance that they actually do? It might help to be alive when they show up!"
Exhaling from his nose, Connor tried to calm himself down. He hadn't been this mad since his last big fight with Madison. Since the night she'd told him she loved him. Thinking; knowing that he should have reciprocated and it had become a fight only made him that much more upset. Still, he lowered his voice and unclenched his fists, staring her directly in the eyes.
"Steering clear of everyone else is all we've got and if you don't want that," Connor gestured to the scythe, "then I guess you know what you've got to do because I want no part of that."
Faith had wanted her answers; she had them. What she did with them, Connor knew would go a long way towards determining his own fate over the next few moments.
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Super Weegee
- Posts: 224
- Joined: Fri Aug 17, 2018 6:14 pm
As Matthew got closer, he began to hear voices in the distance, masculine and feminine, although he couldn't make out the actual words. Great, two more people that could gun him down if they so much as spot him. Maybe that's a bad assumption to make, but it's harder not to do so. This was the point where allies are going to be harder to come across, if at all.
"Honestly, who knows how many of my friends are alive?" Matthew thought aloud to himself, "How many of them turned murderous if they aren't dead?"
When he saw the tree itself with dozens of shoes on it, he barely had time to observe it for more than a few seconds before a booming voice caused him to crouch down and prop the stock of the shotgun against his bruised shoulder. Definitely an argument of some kind and it sounds like they haven't seen him yet. A sigh of relief escaped his mouth and he carefully navigated around the clearing, where he could then see the man and woman arguing with each other...
...Wait, is that Faith? Christ, he hoped that he wouldn't run into her, but the universe seemed to hate him today. The person she's facing was another familiar face, from the first day in fact. It was...
...um...
...What was it again...he mentioned something about football...and before that...?
Well, that doesn't matter right now. Faith still has her scythe and whatshisface doesn't seem to have anything, so he could stick around for a bit without risking being shot at. Matthew calmed down a bit as the guy rambled on about how he's waiting for rescue, how his family's money could help with it, and that he's not going to join Faith in whatever she has planned.
At least the prick's upfront about not sticking around this time. I'm surprised he didn't do it earlier.
Figuring that he was close enough to listen to them, he stood up and leaned against one of the trees to make himself comfortable while they argued, although he wasn't particularly well hidden. His shirt isn't exactly doing a good job at camouflaging him.
"Honestly, who knows how many of my friends are alive?" Matthew thought aloud to himself, "How many of them turned murderous if they aren't dead?"
When he saw the tree itself with dozens of shoes on it, he barely had time to observe it for more than a few seconds before a booming voice caused him to crouch down and prop the stock of the shotgun against his bruised shoulder. Definitely an argument of some kind and it sounds like they haven't seen him yet. A sigh of relief escaped his mouth and he carefully navigated around the clearing, where he could then see the man and woman arguing with each other...
...Wait, is that Faith? Christ, he hoped that he wouldn't run into her, but the universe seemed to hate him today. The person she's facing was another familiar face, from the first day in fact. It was...
...um...
...What was it again...he mentioned something about football...and before that...?
Well, that doesn't matter right now. Faith still has her scythe and whatshisface doesn't seem to have anything, so he could stick around for a bit without risking being shot at. Matthew calmed down a bit as the guy rambled on about how he's waiting for rescue, how his family's money could help with it, and that he's not going to join Faith in whatever she has planned.
At least the prick's upfront about not sticking around this time. I'm surprised he didn't do it earlier.
Figuring that he was close enough to listen to them, he stood up and leaned against one of the trees to make himself comfortable while they argued, although he wasn't particularly well hidden. His shirt isn't exactly doing a good job at camouflaging him.
V8 Relationships Thread
Brook Peterson
Lula Gray Any thoughts or criticisms on my writing are welcome and appreciated! Feel free to message me on Discord.
Brook Peterson
Lula Gray Any thoughts or criticisms on my writing are welcome and appreciated! Feel free to message me on Discord.
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Frozen Smoke
- Posts: 533
- Joined: Mon Aug 13, 2018 3:50 pm
- Location: Where I need to be
Faith kept her grip on the pole firm, as much as it weighed on her conscience, and her shoulders to do so. She hadn't wanted to scare him, but pulling her guard down now, that almost felt like an invitation for him to stop her doing it again. Part of her could see it playing out in her head. A step forwards, a conciliatory gesture, and then a hand grabbing onto the pole. She wouldn't let that happen. The two of them could get out of this without fighting. She just had to hold her nerve.
Something rose in the back of her throat though as he spoke, words pouring out of him, faster and harsher with every sentence. Honest and terrible, and yet something she understood, something she recognised. The hope that there was some other way out of this, that there was someone coming, that everything would be okay. It was sickly sweet, alluring in how it allowed you to abdicate responsibility for your own survival, for what you allowed by not doing anything. She would still be clinging to it, if Julien and Matthew hadn't ground it out of her.
She bit her lip, and took in a short, sharp breath through her nose. She missed the crispness of the night air out in Chattanooga for a moment, the heat and humidity that clung to the darkness felt like it wasn't supposed to be there. Another reminder of how wrong this all was.
A frown spread across her face as Faith finally dragged out a response. The fire that had been there just moments ago felt hollow in the face of Connor's own rage, at the things he'd lost, but he had to know.
"No-one's coming, Connor."
Faith's face pressed into a thin line after that, composing herself for a few moments, before speaking again.
"Maybe if- I don't know- Someone had sent a signal, or something- But no-one did." She added, struggling to force the sentence out as her certainty in it crumbled with every motion of her tongue, voice breaking a little as she finished. If only she had thought of that 10 days ago. Thought a little bigger than her friends. Maybe things would have been different, then.
"We're on our own. All, 30, 40 of us, however many of us are left alive - All we have now is our say in who gets to go home."
Something rose in the back of her throat though as he spoke, words pouring out of him, faster and harsher with every sentence. Honest and terrible, and yet something she understood, something she recognised. The hope that there was some other way out of this, that there was someone coming, that everything would be okay. It was sickly sweet, alluring in how it allowed you to abdicate responsibility for your own survival, for what you allowed by not doing anything. She would still be clinging to it, if Julien and Matthew hadn't ground it out of her.
She bit her lip, and took in a short, sharp breath through her nose. She missed the crispness of the night air out in Chattanooga for a moment, the heat and humidity that clung to the darkness felt like it wasn't supposed to be there. Another reminder of how wrong this all was.
A frown spread across her face as Faith finally dragged out a response. The fire that had been there just moments ago felt hollow in the face of Connor's own rage, at the things he'd lost, but he had to know.
"No-one's coming, Connor."
Faith's face pressed into a thin line after that, composing herself for a few moments, before speaking again.
"Maybe if- I don't know- Someone had sent a signal, or something- But no-one did." She added, struggling to force the sentence out as her certainty in it crumbled with every motion of her tongue, voice breaking a little as she finished. If only she had thought of that 10 days ago. Thought a little bigger than her friends. Maybe things would have been different, then.
"We're on our own. All, 30, 40 of us, however many of us are left alive - All we have now is our say in who gets to go home."
Criticism or thoughts on my writing are welcome and appreciated - always looking to improve! Feel free to poke me on Discord or via PM.
The silence hung in the air for a moment as Connor stared a hole in Faith's forehead. The polearm hadn't moved, but her words had been as sharp and as pointed as the blade she held in front of her. She had talked about their class as though it were still a class; that wasn't the case anymore. It wasn't a common group of people, united in one front. They were no longer a team, it was no longer a case of 'if someone hurts one of us, someone hurts all of us'. They were individuals, battling for their very lives.
"I know," he whispered, the fire having been extinguished from his voice.
Hearing it said out loud, now that so many days had passed, he had to come to terms with the harsh truth. Their fate was in their own hands, and the survivor would be the one who was malicious enough, selfish enough to think about themselves. The lone survivor would be the person who was able to kill, no matter who sat in front of them at the very end. It was why this horrible 'game', if you could call it that — it favoured the miscreants, the kids who existed at the very fringes of society. The ones who held deep, dark secrets within themselves, they were the ones who would excel in such a world. The Quinn Aberts, the Tyrell Lahtis, they were the ones who knew violence, by choice or by mentality. The people who fit into society, like Faith, like Connor himself — they didn't stand a chance. Unless they changed what or whom they were. Unless their internal monologue was malleable enough to reconcile those actions, they were doomed.
The worst part was that he'd known that for a while.
"So what now, then?" Connor's shoulders sagged, his carefully crafted sense of authority having crumbled. "Y'all want to go have your say. So put your money where your mouth is," he gestured to the polearm, "or go. I ain't stopping you."
Faith wouldn't attack him.
He knew her well enough to know what kind of a person she was, and what she wasn't. She understood violence but perpetuating it wasn't her way. Connor didn't know what kind of a say she believed that she'd have when it was all said and done, but one way or another, he wouldn't be around to find out.
"I know," he whispered, the fire having been extinguished from his voice.
Hearing it said out loud, now that so many days had passed, he had to come to terms with the harsh truth. Their fate was in their own hands, and the survivor would be the one who was malicious enough, selfish enough to think about themselves. The lone survivor would be the person who was able to kill, no matter who sat in front of them at the very end. It was why this horrible 'game', if you could call it that — it favoured the miscreants, the kids who existed at the very fringes of society. The ones who held deep, dark secrets within themselves, they were the ones who would excel in such a world. The Quinn Aberts, the Tyrell Lahtis, they were the ones who knew violence, by choice or by mentality. The people who fit into society, like Faith, like Connor himself — they didn't stand a chance. Unless they changed what or whom they were. Unless their internal monologue was malleable enough to reconcile those actions, they were doomed.
The worst part was that he'd known that for a while.
"So what now, then?" Connor's shoulders sagged, his carefully crafted sense of authority having crumbled. "Y'all want to go have your say. So put your money where your mouth is," he gestured to the polearm, "or go. I ain't stopping you."
Faith wouldn't attack him.
He knew her well enough to know what kind of a person she was, and what she wasn't. She understood violence but perpetuating it wasn't her way. Connor didn't know what kind of a say she believed that she'd have when it was all said and done, but one way or another, he wouldn't be around to find out.
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Frozen Smoke
- Posts: 533
- Joined: Mon Aug 13, 2018 3:50 pm
- Location: Where I need to be
Faith's lips pursed together for a moment, and she broke her eyes away from Connor's. Somehow, just repeating what she'd said was worse than any retort he could have given, pointing out exactly what hid behind the flowery euphemism of 'having a say'. It had felt so righteous, so honourable in the moment she'd said it, like she was making a stand against all the people who didn't deserve to go home. It had felt like she was declaring her intent to do the right thing.
Those felt like emotions that shouldn't be attached to saying you were going to kill people you grew up with.
Faith felt like she could feel a hundred unspoken questions burning in Connor's stare, as the two of them stood there in dejected silence. Why? What made you decide this? How do you justify it? What are you hoping to achieve? Who is this going to help? Where are you going to draw the line? When are you going to stop? - It made her want to put her head in her hands and scream, but she couldn't.
She couldn't find any words that felt like an answer, either.
A coal of guilt burnt in her stomach over that, as she took another few measured steps backwards, twitching her head from side to side as she looked over their surroundings. Somehow, she couldn't shake the feeling that Connor wasn't the only person watching her right now. She could swear she could see something moving, too, in the tree line. But that was probably just the paranoia getting to her.
Faith slowly raised the scythe, standing it up by her side as she gave Connor one last, sombre look. He almost seemed like a different person, with his shoulders slumped forwards, and the fire in his gaze barely flickering as he watched her expectantly. The reassuring confidence that both of them had clung to was gone. Now there was just what truly lay beneath the mask staring back at her; a scared, desperate person who just wanted to go home.
It was like looking in a mirror.
"Connor-" she started, before pausing and swallowing the lump in her throat.
Chances were, this was the last time she'd ever see him alive. Everyone else she'd left on the island had either died, or been swallowed up by it, given she'd not seen them since.
"For- For what it's worth- Good luck."
Faith wanted to just spin around and walk away after that, to leave him no chance at a reaction, but her feet felt like they'd turned to lead as her eyes stayed level with his face. She could barely make out the expression, but that somehow just made it worse, as she guessed at how he felt. Disappointed, maybe? Betrayed? Worried? It took a conscious effort to wrench her focus away, looking to the side for a moment, before finally turning her back on him.
Putting one foot in front of another had never felt so wrong.
((Faith Clementine Marshal-Mackenzie continued At Least It's Not a Microwave))
Those felt like emotions that shouldn't be attached to saying you were going to kill people you grew up with.
Faith felt like she could feel a hundred unspoken questions burning in Connor's stare, as the two of them stood there in dejected silence. Why? What made you decide this? How do you justify it? What are you hoping to achieve? Who is this going to help? Where are you going to draw the line? When are you going to stop? - It made her want to put her head in her hands and scream, but she couldn't.
She couldn't find any words that felt like an answer, either.
A coal of guilt burnt in her stomach over that, as she took another few measured steps backwards, twitching her head from side to side as she looked over their surroundings. Somehow, she couldn't shake the feeling that Connor wasn't the only person watching her right now. She could swear she could see something moving, too, in the tree line. But that was probably just the paranoia getting to her.
Faith slowly raised the scythe, standing it up by her side as she gave Connor one last, sombre look. He almost seemed like a different person, with his shoulders slumped forwards, and the fire in his gaze barely flickering as he watched her expectantly. The reassuring confidence that both of them had clung to was gone. Now there was just what truly lay beneath the mask staring back at her; a scared, desperate person who just wanted to go home.
It was like looking in a mirror.
"Connor-" she started, before pausing and swallowing the lump in her throat.
Chances were, this was the last time she'd ever see him alive. Everyone else she'd left on the island had either died, or been swallowed up by it, given she'd not seen them since.
"For- For what it's worth- Good luck."
Faith wanted to just spin around and walk away after that, to leave him no chance at a reaction, but her feet felt like they'd turned to lead as her eyes stayed level with his face. She could barely make out the expression, but that somehow just made it worse, as she guessed at how he felt. Disappointed, maybe? Betrayed? Worried? It took a conscious effort to wrench her focus away, looking to the side for a moment, before finally turning her back on him.
Putting one foot in front of another had never felt so wrong.
((Faith Clementine Marshal-Mackenzie continued At Least It's Not a Microwave))
Criticism or thoughts on my writing are welcome and appreciated - always looking to improve! Feel free to poke me on Discord or via PM.
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Super Weegee
- Posts: 224
- Joined: Fri Aug 17, 2018 6:14 pm
Matthew quickly moved behind the tree just when Faith turned to look in his direction.
Did she see him? He could've sworn that she saw him through her peripheral vision. This shirt is fucking him over right now, with the blue against the green trees around him. Though it could be worse, he could be wearing his red hoodie and stand out even more. Well, even if they do see him, what are they going to do? Shout at him? Considering who Faith is, she must have told whatshisface about how he's the biggest asshole on the island and that he can't be trusted. They seem to be on good terms with each other, after all.
Matthew grimaced at the thought. Regardless, the two shared their goodbyes and he figured that it's about time to get out of here. When the sounds of footsteps faded into the distance, he waited for a few minutes to make sure that they were truly gone. Afterwards, he walked away from the clearing, firmly gripping his shotgun all the while.
((Matthew Hunt continued elsewhere))
Did she see him? He could've sworn that she saw him through her peripheral vision. This shirt is fucking him over right now, with the blue against the green trees around him. Though it could be worse, he could be wearing his red hoodie and stand out even more. Well, even if they do see him, what are they going to do? Shout at him? Considering who Faith is, she must have told whatshisface about how he's the biggest asshole on the island and that he can't be trusted. They seem to be on good terms with each other, after all.
Matthew grimaced at the thought. Regardless, the two shared their goodbyes and he figured that it's about time to get out of here. When the sounds of footsteps faded into the distance, he waited for a few minutes to make sure that they were truly gone. Afterwards, he walked away from the clearing, firmly gripping his shotgun all the while.
((Matthew Hunt continued elsewhere))
V8 Relationships Thread
Brook Peterson
Lula Gray Any thoughts or criticisms on my writing are welcome and appreciated! Feel free to message me on Discord.
Brook Peterson
Lula Gray Any thoughts or criticisms on my writing are welcome and appreciated! Feel free to message me on Discord.
It was always harder to turn your back on someone when they watched you do it. Connor knew; after all, he'd already jettisoned more than a few groups over the course of this ordeal. The easiest way to leave someone behind was what some people referred to as the 'Irish exit'. So he understood the guilt, he understood why she'd tried to do what she did.
Her execution, of course, left a little something to be desired.
She wished him luck, which he supposed was more than he'd done for anyone else, but her exit from the area felt as though it weighed upon her, as if being caught and taken to task for taking the coward's way out was punishment enough. Faith had decided that Connor wasn't worth the risk of being around any longer. While their partnership had been more out of convenience and familiarity rather than any kind of strategic or tactical advantage, he still felt more than a little betrayed.
For a moment, he watched her go, the energy that what little sleep he had gotten barely enough to power his depleted batteries. Being told that everything was hopeless was just a platitude, but knowing that someone felt you were a liability was a whole other story.
Connor had been cut from her team, and that cut was deep.
Even still, though, he said nothing as she left.
Something else tugged at him as he watched Faith retreat from the strange Shoe Tree; something he'd thought just a moment before.
...taking the coward's way out...
Indeed, not wanting to put the time in to establish the relationships and the working trust that one needed to have in this kind of a circumstance was cowardly. For whatever reason, Faith had abandoned him, believing that she would be better off without him.
If that was a cowardly way to be, what did that say about him?
The man who had ejected himself from nearly every social situation he had come upon, Connor couldn't say that he was any different than she. In the end, it was that thought which propelled him, more than anything else.
Am I a coward?
The more he walked and the more he thought, the less he appreciated the conclusions that were virtually screaming at him from the back of his mind.
((Connor Lorenzen continued in After All the Hell We've Been Through, I'd Still Bet On You))
Her execution, of course, left a little something to be desired.
She wished him luck, which he supposed was more than he'd done for anyone else, but her exit from the area felt as though it weighed upon her, as if being caught and taken to task for taking the coward's way out was punishment enough. Faith had decided that Connor wasn't worth the risk of being around any longer. While their partnership had been more out of convenience and familiarity rather than any kind of strategic or tactical advantage, he still felt more than a little betrayed.
For a moment, he watched her go, the energy that what little sleep he had gotten barely enough to power his depleted batteries. Being told that everything was hopeless was just a platitude, but knowing that someone felt you were a liability was a whole other story.
Connor had been cut from her team, and that cut was deep.
Even still, though, he said nothing as she left.
Something else tugged at him as he watched Faith retreat from the strange Shoe Tree; something he'd thought just a moment before.
...taking the coward's way out...
Indeed, not wanting to put the time in to establish the relationships and the working trust that one needed to have in this kind of a circumstance was cowardly. For whatever reason, Faith had abandoned him, believing that she would be better off without him.
If that was a cowardly way to be, what did that say about him?
The man who had ejected himself from nearly every social situation he had come upon, Connor couldn't say that he was any different than she. In the end, it was that thought which propelled him, more than anything else.
Am I a coward?
The more he walked and the more he thought, the less he appreciated the conclusions that were virtually screaming at him from the back of his mind.
((Connor Lorenzen continued in After All the Hell We've Been Through, I'd Still Bet On You))