((Well. That was stupid and overdramatic, wasn't it?))
It was amazing, how much better Cass felt with however much sleep they had gotten in their system. All they knew was that they had fallen asleep around midday and had woken up to a sunrise. At some point, they had forgotten the nominal purpose of their continued existence, hadn't they? Experiencing your last moments delusional and miserable was hardly more accurate to what Cass considered to be their true consciousness than a dreaming death would be.
Their neck and back were sore, their wrist still ached (oh, hell. you need to change bandages every-so-often, don't you?) but they were still able to face the gray morning with brightened eyes. Sadly, comfortably drawing under the open skies seemed to be a lost cause even if the rain had stopped, unless they miraculously found a jacket or a sweatshirt or even just another shirt, jesus christ in hindsight the thing they regretted most was wearing their stupid, still pretty tanktop. Still, the hunting lodge happened to have a romantic air to it, carrying the idea of isolation with it even while it neighbored the homes of those who weren't prisoners and patients. Chairs were a plus, too.
Cass grabbed their notebook, pencil, baton, and bags and once more moved out into the living room. It was still too a bit too dark to try and give Trav a proper sketch - and while he deserved so much more that was all Cass could do for him, now - so instead they enjoyed enduring their breakfast in peace until the sun found them. Afterwards, they turned back to the promise of art with a more forgiving mind until the announcement found them.
Clarice was still alive. So were Jae and Dorothy. The other names didn't mean much from their limited perspective and dwindling supply of generalized empathy. It was darkly satisfying to hear that karma had caught up with Isabel, and though they were surprised and somewhat concerned by Dorothy's involvement in the matter; they couldn't find room in their heart to blame her for whatever had driven her to join the procession of the Ides of May.
Would the island be a safer place, without its biggest monster? Would it be a more treacherous place, with other, unbloodied people trying to fill the gap? Only time would tell.
And as time was the most precious possession any of them had left, when it became clear that remaining in the lodge wouldn't automatically separate Cass's head from their shoulders, they returned pencil to paper, artist to art.
Rivers of Sadness and Mutual Need
Day 7, after the announcement. Open.
((Alessio Rigano continued from Tea Party with Death at Dawn))
For Mr. Prospector it was time for a break. But just a short one. While walking around the island, he ate some snacks, energy. He wondered if he had actually killed Bryony, Sandra or Alice. He would find out tomorrow.
He walked around. He realised something. What he saw while travelling across the island. Who he met after going across the bridge.
Nothing.
No one.
The island was not getting smaller, even if the size of the number of peope alive would shrink. No, Alessio was not going to see many people who are alive. He would see more people who are dead. He would see more corpses.
But it's better that way. Better people dead than people alive.
Alessio daydreamt a scenario where he would just avoid seeing people, but just see corpses. He daydreamt that Danya would suddenly greet him and tell him that he's the only survivor, because everyone else died while he wandered on the island.
But as he checked at the hunting ludge for people, he actually found people.
Cass. Nice person, back in school, but that did not matter anymore.
He just had his head popping out from the doorframe of the living room, as he stared at Cass. So he hid behind the doorframe as he pulled the trigger. He still was not used to shooting the gun, after two times.
Then, he ran away. The hunting cabin. It was where he wanted to sleep back like a week ago, left his assigned weapon like a week ago. A fucking week.
((Alessio Rigano continued in Time flies when you have a gun))
For Mr. Prospector it was time for a break. But just a short one. While walking around the island, he ate some snacks, energy. He wondered if he had actually killed Bryony, Sandra or Alice. He would find out tomorrow.
He walked around. He realised something. What he saw while travelling across the island. Who he met after going across the bridge.
Nothing.
No one.
The island was not getting smaller, even if the size of the number of peope alive would shrink. No, Alessio was not going to see many people who are alive. He would see more people who are dead. He would see more corpses.
But it's better that way. Better people dead than people alive.
Alessio daydreamt a scenario where he would just avoid seeing people, but just see corpses. He daydreamt that Danya would suddenly greet him and tell him that he's the only survivor, because everyone else died while he wandered on the island.
But as he checked at the hunting ludge for people, he actually found people.
Cass. Nice person, back in school, but that did not matter anymore.
He just had his head popping out from the doorframe of the living room, as he stared at Cass. So he hid behind the doorframe as he pulled the trigger. He still was not used to shooting the gun, after two times.
Then, he ran away. The hunting cabin. It was where he wanted to sleep back like a week ago, left his assigned weapon like a week ago. A fucking week.
((Alessio Rigano continued in Time flies when you have a gun))
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler RC. While this handler hasn't been around in quite a while, should they return and wish to take custody of this account and/or its posts, they are welcome to do so by contacting staff.
Two sharp cracks would have fit the narrative better, wouldn't they have? A familiar leitmotif, ushering the ghost of Trav's demise back into Cass's mind even as they tried to recapture his life; unwelcome but not alien.
But no, instead someone had fired a fucking automatic shotgun at them - twice - and generally ruined every bit of serenity the quiet scene had scrounged up.
Cass started and shrieked, sending their pencil rolling across the floorboards, instinctively clutching the notebook to their chest for several seconds of wide-eyed panic. The material world had long since faded out of focus, and it took them far longer than advisable to remember that their invisible assailant could still be around, scrambling back into the nearby bedroom to take cover, neglecting to slam the door behind them because holy shit there wasn't much a door could do in that situation.
They pressed their back against the wall, checking themself for shock-veiled injuries before realizing that, just judging by sound, that hadn't been the sort of gun you can get hit by and still have the luxury of suffering from it later. It would have been prudent to dramatically snick Jae's gift and wait for the shooter to enter the room, but it was still where they left it, leaning against the armchair.
Hiding wouldn't work. Only so many places in the lodge to check, and the bed was too low for Cass to fit under. All it came down to was whether the shooter had made the conscious decision to hunt and kill Cass or if they had just... not thought a lot?
"Jesus fuck, please, hey, I'm not a threat or anything, alright?" Cass called out with ringing ears and a quivering voice. "I don't have a gun or a knife or anything like that so just - so just like - I've got two bags out there and they've both got stuff in them and you can like, take the stuff if you want it, I'm not willing to die for it or anything! I'll just, stay in here and not hurt you and you can stay out there and not hurt me and then you can leave with all my stuff and..." They trailed off, realizing that there hadn't been any response yet. Any footsteps, any dramatic gun-cocking noise that you'd probably have to make in order to fire your gun again? Cass didn't really know how they worked.
Their ears had been kinda fucked, but the ringing was slowly starting to die out. Still nothing. Cass tentatively waved their injured hand in front of the doorway to check if anyone was waiting with a twitchy death finger, but seconds passed and they still possessed all their limbs. Next they carefully peeked around the corner. Everything was exactly the way they had left it, other than all the new holes that had appeared in one of the walls.
Trying not to think about how easily that could have been their head, Cass waited a few more minutes, just to be safe. No response, no shooting.
They went back out into the living room and closed the front door. They spent an annoying amount of time trying to find their pencil again. They dragged the armchair into the bedroom, then closed that door. They tried to complete Trav, but found that their heart was still racing and that they were glancing back up at the door every few seconds.
At this point, they honestly weren't sure whether they were more terrified by how close they had come to death without any warning or realization, or more annoyed by how random and inconvenient it had been.
But no, instead someone had fired a fucking automatic shotgun at them - twice - and generally ruined every bit of serenity the quiet scene had scrounged up.
Cass started and shrieked, sending their pencil rolling across the floorboards, instinctively clutching the notebook to their chest for several seconds of wide-eyed panic. The material world had long since faded out of focus, and it took them far longer than advisable to remember that their invisible assailant could still be around, scrambling back into the nearby bedroom to take cover, neglecting to slam the door behind them because holy shit there wasn't much a door could do in that situation.
They pressed their back against the wall, checking themself for shock-veiled injuries before realizing that, just judging by sound, that hadn't been the sort of gun you can get hit by and still have the luxury of suffering from it later. It would have been prudent to dramatically snick Jae's gift and wait for the shooter to enter the room, but it was still where they left it, leaning against the armchair.
Hiding wouldn't work. Only so many places in the lodge to check, and the bed was too low for Cass to fit under. All it came down to was whether the shooter had made the conscious decision to hunt and kill Cass or if they had just... not thought a lot?
"Jesus fuck, please, hey, I'm not a threat or anything, alright?" Cass called out with ringing ears and a quivering voice. "I don't have a gun or a knife or anything like that so just - so just like - I've got two bags out there and they've both got stuff in them and you can like, take the stuff if you want it, I'm not willing to die for it or anything! I'll just, stay in here and not hurt you and you can stay out there and not hurt me and then you can leave with all my stuff and..." They trailed off, realizing that there hadn't been any response yet. Any footsteps, any dramatic gun-cocking noise that you'd probably have to make in order to fire your gun again? Cass didn't really know how they worked.
Their ears had been kinda fucked, but the ringing was slowly starting to die out. Still nothing. Cass tentatively waved their injured hand in front of the doorway to check if anyone was waiting with a twitchy death finger, but seconds passed and they still possessed all their limbs. Next they carefully peeked around the corner. Everything was exactly the way they had left it, other than all the new holes that had appeared in one of the walls.
Trying not to think about how easily that could have been their head, Cass waited a few more minutes, just to be safe. No response, no shooting.
They went back out into the living room and closed the front door. They spent an annoying amount of time trying to find their pencil again. They dragged the armchair into the bedroom, then closed that door. They tried to complete Trav, but found that their heart was still racing and that they were glancing back up at the door every few seconds.
At this point, they honestly weren't sure whether they were more terrified by how close they had come to death without any warning or realization, or more annoyed by how random and inconvenient it had been.
((Asuka Takahara continued from And Now That I Am Here, I Am No Longer Here))
((Placeholder post :/))
Asuka knocked.
((Placeholder post :/))
Asuka knocked.
((Doublepost to avoid inactivity.))
Nobody answered. Figures. Asuka pushed the door open, stepped inside. It felt weird, like she was entering a crappy motel room for the first time in a while. Nostalgic, but incongruously so; this wasn't an experience most people found wistful, exactly.
Asuka trudged to another door-- it somehow felt a little safer to go in there than to stay here, one door away from a potential murderer. Silly--it wasn't like someone bent on murder was gonna open the door, shrug, and leave--but this was more about peace of mind than anything, after all. Asuka opened the door, looked, stopped.
Cass. Cass, who was actually good at art, who was shy, and sweet, and maybe Asuka has a tendency to idealize people sometimes but seriously Cass was like a platonic ideal of herself: an Asuka who isn't actually right to hate herself.
Asuka moved to the middle of the room. Sat down.
"Uh. Hi. So, not playing and all. Are you playing? Cuz, like, if not, I really wish I'd known you better in high school, and I'd like to get to know you better now. I can give you food, for. Uh. Friendship, or something."
Nobody answered. Figures. Asuka pushed the door open, stepped inside. It felt weird, like she was entering a crappy motel room for the first time in a while. Nostalgic, but incongruously so; this wasn't an experience most people found wistful, exactly.
Asuka trudged to another door-- it somehow felt a little safer to go in there than to stay here, one door away from a potential murderer. Silly--it wasn't like someone bent on murder was gonna open the door, shrug, and leave--but this was more about peace of mind than anything, after all. Asuka opened the door, looked, stopped.
Cass. Cass, who was actually good at art, who was shy, and sweet, and maybe Asuka has a tendency to idealize people sometimes but seriously Cass was like a platonic ideal of herself: an Asuka who isn't actually right to hate herself.
Asuka moved to the middle of the room. Sat down.
"Uh. Hi. So, not playing and all. Are you playing? Cuz, like, if not, I really wish I'd known you better in high school, and I'd like to get to know you better now. I can give you food, for. Uh. Friendship, or something."
All it took was one knock to defeat Cass's attempt to turn the bedroom into a hermitage. One reminder that there was more to the world beyond the room's four decaying walls; not content to let Cass deal with it on their own time. Earlier, they would have sighed and gone to answer it; but the aftershock of the shotgun's salutation kept them in their seat.
Even if they doubted the owner of that impulsive trigger finger was knocking now, they had little to gain and everything to lose from poking their head out the door a second time. Even if the knocker decided to enter, reassured by silence; Cass didn't want their last thoughts to be a lament of how much could have been saved by sticking to a corner.
The knocker turned into an intruder once, then twice. Cass clutched their sketchbook to their chest again, then relaxed as they saw Asuka's face. They weren't really friends, and while Cass had wanted to change that they had never built up the confidence to try and start... anything. Asuka was cool, after all. She was kind of like what you'd get if you took Cass and gave them an actual functioning brain, complete with existential thoughts that were actually worth thinking.
Thus, it was like a daydream come true to have her actually approach Cass and tell them that they were legitimately, sincerely interested in them. It was so pleasant that it wrapped around to throwing them completely off guard. "Um. Hi? You sure you got any to spare? I mean, I don't mind or anything..." They trailed off, not knocking exactly what they meant. Food to spare? Time or care to spare with a vague imprint of a person?
"Sorry. It's just - you hear any, like, shotguns recently? Someone shot at me and ran like fifteen minutes ago and I'm still pretty freaked out." They gestured to the holy wall back in the living room.
Even if they doubted the owner of that impulsive trigger finger was knocking now, they had little to gain and everything to lose from poking their head out the door a second time. Even if the knocker decided to enter, reassured by silence; Cass didn't want their last thoughts to be a lament of how much could have been saved by sticking to a corner.
The knocker turned into an intruder once, then twice. Cass clutched their sketchbook to their chest again, then relaxed as they saw Asuka's face. They weren't really friends, and while Cass had wanted to change that they had never built up the confidence to try and start... anything. Asuka was cool, after all. She was kind of like what you'd get if you took Cass and gave them an actual functioning brain, complete with existential thoughts that were actually worth thinking.
Thus, it was like a daydream come true to have her actually approach Cass and tell them that they were legitimately, sincerely interested in them. It was so pleasant that it wrapped around to throwing them completely off guard. "Um. Hi? You sure you got any to spare? I mean, I don't mind or anything..." They trailed off, not knocking exactly what they meant. Food to spare? Time or care to spare with a vague imprint of a person?
"Sorry. It's just - you hear any, like, shotguns recently? Someone shot at me and ran like fifteen minutes ago and I'm still pretty freaked out." They gestured to the holy wall back in the living room.
Because everyone knows that a self-defeating self-deprecating joke is how you make a new friend.
It's just that, like, Asuka didn't know how to make friends with people she already wanted to be friends with. She'd always figured that friendships were things that just kinda happened naturally: you hang out, you liked each other, ta-da! Friendship! The Power of Friendship was a mysterious force, after all. Those who seek it will not find it, or something.
Now, what was Cass saying--oh, right. Something about shotguns. Fuck, she'd almost missed what Cass said and messed this up even more, hadn't she? And now she's sitting there all blank and useless, thinking about that instead of actually responding.
Asuka let out a choked non-word, coughed, tried again.
"Didn't hear anything, no. Um. Sorry if I freaked you out. And food isn't really an issue for me, I guess. Haven't been eating very much since I got here. I'm going through it too slowly."
Asuka grinned. Sure, she'd already given some of her food to Nate, but she really didn't need all the food she had left. It'd be a little tough, but if she could lose track of time and forget to eat at home, she could do it here, or pretend to herself to do it here.
"I mean, I'd hate to have whatever's left of my food eaten by my murderer, y'know? Much more productive for it to go to you. I'm doing this thing where I'm, like, trying to live vicariously through as many people as possible, and also trying to do stuff that would make someone else want to live vicariously through me? Making up for lost time, I guess."
Ha. Like Asuka could ever be a reasonably competent manic pixie dream girl to anyone. Asuka reached into her bag--keeping the opening turned towards Cass, no need to make her think Asuka's pulling out a weapon-- and grabbed a couple of bars. They were gonna have a sweet emotional bonding exercise if she had to sacrifice her food for it. Even if trying to force something like that to happen was pointless and impossible.
"Funny thing is, I'd probably spend most of my life languishing and then end up doing the same kinda thing once I'm old and dying if I hadn't ended up here. So, in a weird sort of way, I'm having the time of life here. Except...y'know. People are dying so that I can have that kind of feeling. That's not worth it."
Asuka lowered her voice.
"Have you been holding up? Did you lose anyone you know?"
It's just that, like, Asuka didn't know how to make friends with people she already wanted to be friends with. She'd always figured that friendships were things that just kinda happened naturally: you hang out, you liked each other, ta-da! Friendship! The Power of Friendship was a mysterious force, after all. Those who seek it will not find it, or something.
Now, what was Cass saying--oh, right. Something about shotguns. Fuck, she'd almost missed what Cass said and messed this up even more, hadn't she? And now she's sitting there all blank and useless, thinking about that instead of actually responding.
Asuka let out a choked non-word, coughed, tried again.
"Didn't hear anything, no. Um. Sorry if I freaked you out. And food isn't really an issue for me, I guess. Haven't been eating very much since I got here. I'm going through it too slowly."
Asuka grinned. Sure, she'd already given some of her food to Nate, but she really didn't need all the food she had left. It'd be a little tough, but if she could lose track of time and forget to eat at home, she could do it here, or pretend to herself to do it here.
"I mean, I'd hate to have whatever's left of my food eaten by my murderer, y'know? Much more productive for it to go to you. I'm doing this thing where I'm, like, trying to live vicariously through as many people as possible, and also trying to do stuff that would make someone else want to live vicariously through me? Making up for lost time, I guess."
Ha. Like Asuka could ever be a reasonably competent manic pixie dream girl to anyone. Asuka reached into her bag--keeping the opening turned towards Cass, no need to make her think Asuka's pulling out a weapon-- and grabbed a couple of bars. They were gonna have a sweet emotional bonding exercise if she had to sacrifice her food for it. Even if trying to force something like that to happen was pointless and impossible.
"Funny thing is, I'd probably spend most of my life languishing and then end up doing the same kinda thing once I'm old and dying if I hadn't ended up here. So, in a weird sort of way, I'm having the time of life here. Except...y'know. People are dying so that I can have that kind of feeling. That's not worth it."
Asuka lowered her voice.
"Have you been holding up? Did you lose anyone you know?"
((Candice Banks continued from We Are Monsters))
Candice had vaguely recalled there being a cabin in the area, and had thought for some reason that it might be a good place to hide out. Instead, she found herself standing just outside the cabin door, having frozen the moment right before she had been about to enter due to the sound of voices coming from within.
It probably would be a good place to stay. So of course there would be people already there. Candice would have wondered what she could have possibly been thinking in coming here, but honestly at this point she felt like her brain had shut down several days ago, so the lack of thinking something through wasn't really anything new.
She sat down against the outer wall, listening to the people inside. They seemed quite friendly. Who knows, maybe they were even trustworthy. And if they weren't, no big loss. It's not like she was going to actually work up the courage to speak to them anyway.
Candice had vaguely recalled there being a cabin in the area, and had thought for some reason that it might be a good place to hide out. Instead, she found herself standing just outside the cabin door, having frozen the moment right before she had been about to enter due to the sound of voices coming from within.
It probably would be a good place to stay. So of course there would be people already there. Candice would have wondered what she could have possibly been thinking in coming here, but honestly at this point she felt like her brain had shut down several days ago, so the lack of thinking something through wasn't really anything new.
She sat down against the outer wall, listening to the people inside. They seemed quite friendly. Who knows, maybe they were even trustworthy. And if they weren't, no big loss. It's not like she was going to actually work up the courage to speak to them anyway.
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Muninn. While this handler hasn't been around in quite a while, should they return and wish to take custody of this account and/or its posts, they are welcome to do so by contacting staff.
Cass could count the conversations they had had since Trav died on their one good hand. Two explosions. Two avengers. Two murderers. Two sharp cracks. This left them woefully unprepared for Asuka's company. Every thought that came to mind found itself left behind as she moved on to the next subject, a sunbeam suited for the clear skies outside.
"...Yeah. I've, uh. Been carrying around two bags for a couple days now, so if you need anything I can share stuff too?" Cass said, accepting one of Asuka's ration bars. They had lost people they had known, and people that they had grown to know; but none of that had to be Asuka's problem. She had surely lost loved ones too, and Cass wasn't gonna ask her to open her heart any more to feel the absence of the friend of an acquaintance.
"Other than that I've been lucky? Relatively? Got stabbed once but I still punched the guy for being an asshole so I guess that kinda balances." And that was enough dwelling on their sorry life. "Sounds like you're making the most of your time here though, for what my opinion's worth. Trying to live instead of just surviving, right?"
They shifted slightly in their seat, staring down at the closed sketchbook in their lap. "I... admire that a lot, actually. I've just... been here. Probably will be until someone gets around to killing me." Asuka had been making a difference to people, not just selfishly hoping - and failing, so far - to find some semblance of worth within herself.
"...Yeah. I've, uh. Been carrying around two bags for a couple days now, so if you need anything I can share stuff too?" Cass said, accepting one of Asuka's ration bars. They had lost people they had known, and people that they had grown to know; but none of that had to be Asuka's problem. She had surely lost loved ones too, and Cass wasn't gonna ask her to open her heart any more to feel the absence of the friend of an acquaintance.
"Other than that I've been lucky? Relatively? Got stabbed once but I still punched the guy for being an asshole so I guess that kinda balances." And that was enough dwelling on their sorry life. "Sounds like you're making the most of your time here though, for what my opinion's worth. Trying to live instead of just surviving, right?"
They shifted slightly in their seat, staring down at the closed sketchbook in their lap. "I... admire that a lot, actually. I've just... been here. Probably will be until someone gets around to killing me." Asuka had been making a difference to people, not just selfishly hoping - and failing, so far - to find some semblance of worth within herself.
"...I wish. All I've really done is sit around and tell myself how important it was to stop sitting around and get up and do something worthwhile or meaningful or at least memorable before I go poof."
What?
Asuka averted her gaze-- let it wander onto the light fixture on the wall, steered it through the cracks between the floorboards, stopped it when her eyes landed on Cass's shoes. There was something--multiple things--nagging Asuka about this conversation, about things Cass had said, things Asuka had said--but she was blanking on all of them except the current one.
"Actually, forget memorable. I was being unnecessarily pathetic--I mean, unnecessarily portraying myself as pathetic. Not that I'm not pathetic, but, like, I'm not pathetic in that way. It's just that, like...all I've really done is give my gun to some asshole to try to get him to shoot me with my gun, try to prove...something, to him, and he just takes it and runs off and now he's killed with it. And I tried to work myself up to feel angry about it, to do something it, but I couldn't. And yesterday I watched Scout kill Alvaro, and I didn't know either of them very well, and, like, I thought I was really shaken by seeing it at the time, right? I was, like, shit, this is gonna fuck me up. But it didn't. I feel the same now as I did before, pretty much."
Fuck. She's not gonna like this.
"It's like you put me on fucking DeathMurder Island, SOTF or whatever, and you still can't make me feel alive because my life still isn't a story worth telling because it's dull and pointless and meaningless and fucking boring. You can't even make me die. No matter how much I try, or, more like, no matter how much I try to make myself try. I'm just kinda...there. Like, I know you feel useless too, but...but..."
Shit.
What?
Asuka averted her gaze-- let it wander onto the light fixture on the wall, steered it through the cracks between the floorboards, stopped it when her eyes landed on Cass's shoes. There was something--multiple things--nagging Asuka about this conversation, about things Cass had said, things Asuka had said--but she was blanking on all of them except the current one.
"Actually, forget memorable. I was being unnecessarily pathetic--I mean, unnecessarily portraying myself as pathetic. Not that I'm not pathetic, but, like, I'm not pathetic in that way. It's just that, like...all I've really done is give my gun to some asshole to try to get him to shoot me with my gun, try to prove...something, to him, and he just takes it and runs off and now he's killed with it. And I tried to work myself up to feel angry about it, to do something it, but I couldn't. And yesterday I watched Scout kill Alvaro, and I didn't know either of them very well, and, like, I thought I was really shaken by seeing it at the time, right? I was, like, shit, this is gonna fuck me up. But it didn't. I feel the same now as I did before, pretty much."
Fuck. She's not gonna like this.
"It's like you put me on fucking DeathMurder Island, SOTF or whatever, and you still can't make me feel alive because my life still isn't a story worth telling because it's dull and pointless and meaningless and fucking boring. You can't even make me die. No matter how much I try, or, more like, no matter how much I try to make myself try. I'm just kinda...there. Like, I know you feel useless too, but...but..."
Shit.
I shouldn't be sticking around here.
It wasn't quite right to say that that was how Candice felt. Rather, it was how she thought she should feel. As in, "you were looking for someplace to hole up by yourself, you won't find that here, get your ass in gear and start looking somewhere else". It felt like that should be her reaction, but it wasn't.
Specifically, it felt like that would be the "smart" reaction. But even so, Candice couldn't tear herself away from listening to the conversation going on in the cabin.
Not accomplishing anything.
Not doing anything meaningful.
Just marking time.
They all felt that way as well.
She stood up. The "smart" course of running off to who-knows-where was still an option for now. But still, she didn't quite want to leave.
Besides, what do I know about making decisions, she thought as she hesitated outside the door.
It wasn't quite right to say that that was how Candice felt. Rather, it was how she thought she should feel. As in, "you were looking for someplace to hole up by yourself, you won't find that here, get your ass in gear and start looking somewhere else". It felt like that should be her reaction, but it wasn't.
Specifically, it felt like that would be the "smart" reaction. But even so, Candice couldn't tear herself away from listening to the conversation going on in the cabin.
Not accomplishing anything.
Not doing anything meaningful.
Just marking time.
They all felt that way as well.
She stood up. The "smart" course of running off to who-knows-where was still an option for now. But still, she didn't quite want to leave.
Besides, what do I know about making decisions, she thought as she hesitated outside the door.
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Muninn. While this handler hasn't been around in quite a while, should they return and wish to take custody of this account and/or its posts, they are welcome to do so by contacting staff.
Useless.
Cass couldn't really debate that, but it still didn't feel great to have it spoken out loud. Still, any discomfort was drowned out by Asuka continuing to pour her soul on the floorboards, too much sorrow for even two people to try and wade through. What did feeling sad matter in the face of this girl revealing that she had already tried to commit suicide by proxy?
Anything had to be better than just letting that sentiment sit there. Cass tried to think about when they had oh-so-recently felt numb and unfathomably alone, what they would have wanted to hear in the midst of their despair.
What they managed to say was "...Trauma's a hell of a drug." Given a second of thought, that wasn't actually the worst metaphor; even if it had originally sprung from the usage of a tired catchphrase. Forces your way into your veins, chilling them as it makes its way up towards your brain in order to rewrite it and leave you fundamentally changed, and even if you recover one day you might never forget the withdrawal.
Stupid. The human being in front of Cass was what mattered, not how much meaning you could read into an accidental turn of phrase.
"I mean, like... it's okay to be weak. I think. Not that I think you're - I mean, I am, too, but - it's not a personal failing? The not really feeling anything part, at least. Like, a lot of my friends are dead, but the only time I've cried was for someone I met like... fuck, was it five days ago? Six? That doesn't mean that I don't care about everyone else or anything, it's just... there's only so much bad shit a single human being can take before you start to shut down, right? Doesn't mean there's anything wrong with you, or me." Cass trailed off, hoping they had made some sort of comforting point but at a loss for what it could be.
Doesn't mean there's anything wrong with me. Ha. This might be the first time in their life that their numbness actually was justified, but that didn't magically make everything else better.
Cass couldn't really debate that, but it still didn't feel great to have it spoken out loud. Still, any discomfort was drowned out by Asuka continuing to pour her soul on the floorboards, too much sorrow for even two people to try and wade through. What did feeling sad matter in the face of this girl revealing that she had already tried to commit suicide by proxy?
Anything had to be better than just letting that sentiment sit there. Cass tried to think about when they had oh-so-recently felt numb and unfathomably alone, what they would have wanted to hear in the midst of their despair.
What they managed to say was "...Trauma's a hell of a drug." Given a second of thought, that wasn't actually the worst metaphor; even if it had originally sprung from the usage of a tired catchphrase. Forces your way into your veins, chilling them as it makes its way up towards your brain in order to rewrite it and leave you fundamentally changed, and even if you recover one day you might never forget the withdrawal.
Stupid. The human being in front of Cass was what mattered, not how much meaning you could read into an accidental turn of phrase.
"I mean, like... it's okay to be weak. I think. Not that I think you're - I mean, I am, too, but - it's not a personal failing? The not really feeling anything part, at least. Like, a lot of my friends are dead, but the only time I've cried was for someone I met like... fuck, was it five days ago? Six? That doesn't mean that I don't care about everyone else or anything, it's just... there's only so much bad shit a single human being can take before you start to shut down, right? Doesn't mean there's anything wrong with you, or me." Cass trailed off, hoping they had made some sort of comforting point but at a loss for what it could be.
Doesn't mean there's anything wrong with me. Ha. This might be the first time in their life that their numbness actually was justified, but that didn't magically make everything else better.
Cass was being so kind, trying so hard to help Asuka rationalize it all, and she was making sense because of course she was making sense, of course it's normal to become numb and desensitized, but couldn't Cass see that Asuka didn't want it rationalized, didn't want the black hole inside her to be explained, diminished, justified? No. Let it consume her, let it wash her in hellfire and Despair. Capital-D Despair, big and scary and meaningless in a meaningful way.
"I...I don't know. It's not that I feel guilty--well, yes, I feel guilty that I don't feel more sad whenever someone dies, but the main thing is that, like, trauma's not really a drug for me, and I wish it was. I used to, like, romanticize apocalypses. Like, I wished an asteroid would crash into the Earth or something. Not that I'd wish that on everyone I knew and everyone I didn't know, but, like...think about how pretty it would be. Sky on fire, rocks crashing down and exploding around you, and you just sit there and watch, because what's the point in even trying to survive, what's the point in doing anything besides seeing how beautiful the Earth is when it burns? And you can say your last good-byes, tell everyone the things you'd always wanted to tell them but never had the guts to say, and you can watch as everyone on the planet gets together and sings fucking Kumbaya or whatever and we all get into a gigantic figurative group hug because why the hell not? Um. Sorry about the tangent."
Asuka exhaled. She'd been holding her breath in without realizing it.
"Anyways, my point was: Make an asteroid crash into Earth. Put me on SotF. Hell, summon God to tell me that everything I cared about was meaningless and evil and wrong. And now that it's happened, this is, like, the biggest, most meaningful that has happened or ever will happen to me, and I'm...fuck, this sounds dumb, but I'm wasting it. Like, what's the point in living when dying can't make you feel anything?"
Asuka paused. Laughed, self-deprecatingly. The conversation wouldn't have felt complete without it.
"Should've...fuck. I...I should've done drugs or something, should've fucked up in all the right ways in high school. But I guess it makes sense. If I'd done stuff with my life that was worth doing, I wouldn't care so much about dying meaningfully, and I wouldn't find it so hard to come up with a way to go out with a bang. If I were the kind of girl who could pull that kind of thing off, the kind of thing that I want to pull off, that I'm trying to pull off, I would've...I dunno. That me would've vandalized cars and buildings, TP'd the evil teacher's house. She would've gone out drinking and danced on tables or some shit. She would've shouted stupid rebellious teenage things at my dad while storming into her room and slamming the door behind her. She would've...I would've gone out and fucked random strangers and wandered home and woken up the next morning hungover and crying and not knowing why. Fuck, that's depressing to think about."
Fuck, she was talking too much.
"Sorry for being self-indulgent. Um. You can rant about whatever, if you want. I'll listen. I...I want to listen. So, please...anything."
"I...I don't know. It's not that I feel guilty--well, yes, I feel guilty that I don't feel more sad whenever someone dies, but the main thing is that, like, trauma's not really a drug for me, and I wish it was. I used to, like, romanticize apocalypses. Like, I wished an asteroid would crash into the Earth or something. Not that I'd wish that on everyone I knew and everyone I didn't know, but, like...think about how pretty it would be. Sky on fire, rocks crashing down and exploding around you, and you just sit there and watch, because what's the point in even trying to survive, what's the point in doing anything besides seeing how beautiful the Earth is when it burns? And you can say your last good-byes, tell everyone the things you'd always wanted to tell them but never had the guts to say, and you can watch as everyone on the planet gets together and sings fucking Kumbaya or whatever and we all get into a gigantic figurative group hug because why the hell not? Um. Sorry about the tangent."
Asuka exhaled. She'd been holding her breath in without realizing it.
"Anyways, my point was: Make an asteroid crash into Earth. Put me on SotF. Hell, summon God to tell me that everything I cared about was meaningless and evil and wrong. And now that it's happened, this is, like, the biggest, most meaningful that has happened or ever will happen to me, and I'm...fuck, this sounds dumb, but I'm wasting it. Like, what's the point in living when dying can't make you feel anything?"
Asuka paused. Laughed, self-deprecatingly. The conversation wouldn't have felt complete without it.
"Should've...fuck. I...I should've done drugs or something, should've fucked up in all the right ways in high school. But I guess it makes sense. If I'd done stuff with my life that was worth doing, I wouldn't care so much about dying meaningfully, and I wouldn't find it so hard to come up with a way to go out with a bang. If I were the kind of girl who could pull that kind of thing off, the kind of thing that I want to pull off, that I'm trying to pull off, I would've...I dunno. That me would've vandalized cars and buildings, TP'd the evil teacher's house. She would've gone out drinking and danced on tables or some shit. She would've shouted stupid rebellious teenage things at my dad while storming into her room and slamming the door behind her. She would've...I would've gone out and fucked random strangers and wandered home and woken up the next morning hungover and crying and not knowing why. Fuck, that's depressing to think about."
Fuck, she was talking too much.
"Sorry for being self-indulgent. Um. You can rant about whatever, if you want. I'll listen. I...I want to listen. So, please...anything."
In the end, Candice didn't enter the cabin. She didn't call out to the two inside or make a conscious effort to let them know that she was there.
Part of it was worry about them thinking they needed to defend themselves. No matter how nice they sounded from outside, it wasn't impossible that they might get the wrong idea if Candice were to suddenly pop up. No... even if they sounded nice, that was no guarantee that they were good people. That was the line of thinking that Candice needed to force herself to consider.
Even setting aside the matter of what they might have done to her if she tried to enter, it just felt... wrong? It wasn't a matter of asking to join, because she hadn't felt the same way about Brendan's group. It took Candice a while to put her finger on it, but she thought she had the idea now. The group she had found before, they had just been talking about utilitarian things. Where to go, what to do with bodies, shit like that. This talk, on the other hand, was so very personal. Like, not just "details about my private life" but instead something in the same magnitude as questioning your reason for existence.
It was a conversation that resonated strongly with Candice. And that was why she couldn't intrude.
Because if she felt that way, then they must surely feel that way as well.
It would feel like waltzing into some stranger's house, sitting down at their dinner table, and helping yourself to some food.
With that all being said, though, she was incredibly hesitant to just walk away. It was too good of an opportunity, and Candice couldn't help but feel dumb for just leaving it like that. So instead, she told herself that she would just check out the surrounding area for a bit. Give the two some space and then come back to meet up with them if they're still there. Hopefully something like that could happen.
((Candice Banks continued in Tea Party with Death at Dawn))
Part of it was worry about them thinking they needed to defend themselves. No matter how nice they sounded from outside, it wasn't impossible that they might get the wrong idea if Candice were to suddenly pop up. No... even if they sounded nice, that was no guarantee that they were good people. That was the line of thinking that Candice needed to force herself to consider.
Even setting aside the matter of what they might have done to her if she tried to enter, it just felt... wrong? It wasn't a matter of asking to join, because she hadn't felt the same way about Brendan's group. It took Candice a while to put her finger on it, but she thought she had the idea now. The group she had found before, they had just been talking about utilitarian things. Where to go, what to do with bodies, shit like that. This talk, on the other hand, was so very personal. Like, not just "details about my private life" but instead something in the same magnitude as questioning your reason for existence.
It was a conversation that resonated strongly with Candice. And that was why she couldn't intrude.
Because if she felt that way, then they must surely feel that way as well.
It would feel like waltzing into some stranger's house, sitting down at their dinner table, and helping yourself to some food.
With that all being said, though, she was incredibly hesitant to just walk away. It was too good of an opportunity, and Candice couldn't help but feel dumb for just leaving it like that. So instead, she told herself that she would just check out the surrounding area for a bit. Give the two some space and then come back to meet up with them if they're still there. Hopefully something like that could happen.
((Candice Banks continued in Tea Party with Death at Dawn))
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Muninn. While this handler hasn't been around in quite a while, should they return and wish to take custody of this account and/or its posts, they are welcome to do so by contacting staff.
Time to shine the spotlight on Cass, then?
It felt wrong to focus on themself when Asuka clearly carried so much hurt inside of her, even from before the world had ended, but that seemed to be what she wanted, and that's what really mattered, wasn't it? Not like Cass knew the right words to say to try and make anything better for anyone.
"...Uh. First, I guess, lemme just say that you don't need to apologize to me for anything, alright? I like listening to people," like was the wrong word, they loved to hear friends share their hopes for the future and things that make them smile or even just vague rambling about life, they didn't like to watch people fall apart in front of them but it was too late to take the implication back now- "so if it helped or made you feel better at or or even if it didn't... it's cool, y'know?"
Even their misgivings and Asuka's explicit wishes hadn't been enough to stop Cass from trying to help. Stupid. What were they trying to do, stall for time to try and think of something, anything worth saying out loud? They stared at the wall for a few seconds, fingers drumming on their notebook.
"Myself, well... fuck, man; I don't know. Knew I wasn't gonna get out of here alive right from the start; and I can't say I really wanted... really want to, anyway. I don't deserve to live any more than the rest of us, et cetera, et cetera. And for a while I just didn't think too much about that; and I spend the first few days just kinda passively hanging around someone who was too good to die here. But he did, and I'm still here, so it's like, the hell does that leave me?"
"And after a while I just like, thought back on my life and realized that art's really all I've ever been good for, all that's really kept me going through the years. It's all I am, in a lot of ways. So I went out, found a pencil, found this notebook. Ran into fucking Isabel in the process, but sill worth it. And now I'm here, in this house, and I'm going to draw as much as I can and I'm not gonna leave until someone decides to finally shoot me in the head. Hopefully they'll give me enough time to put my art away so I don't bleed all over it."
Now it was Cass's turn to laugh awkwardly.
It felt wrong to focus on themself when Asuka clearly carried so much hurt inside of her, even from before the world had ended, but that seemed to be what she wanted, and that's what really mattered, wasn't it? Not like Cass knew the right words to say to try and make anything better for anyone.
"...Uh. First, I guess, lemme just say that you don't need to apologize to me for anything, alright? I like listening to people," like was the wrong word, they loved to hear friends share their hopes for the future and things that make them smile or even just vague rambling about life, they didn't like to watch people fall apart in front of them but it was too late to take the implication back now- "so if it helped or made you feel better at or or even if it didn't... it's cool, y'know?"
Even their misgivings and Asuka's explicit wishes hadn't been enough to stop Cass from trying to help. Stupid. What were they trying to do, stall for time to try and think of something, anything worth saying out loud? They stared at the wall for a few seconds, fingers drumming on their notebook.
"Myself, well... fuck, man; I don't know. Knew I wasn't gonna get out of here alive right from the start; and I can't say I really wanted... really want to, anyway. I don't deserve to live any more than the rest of us, et cetera, et cetera. And for a while I just didn't think too much about that; and I spend the first few days just kinda passively hanging around someone who was too good to die here. But he did, and I'm still here, so it's like, the hell does that leave me?"
"And after a while I just like, thought back on my life and realized that art's really all I've ever been good for, all that's really kept me going through the years. It's all I am, in a lot of ways. So I went out, found a pencil, found this notebook. Ran into fucking Isabel in the process, but sill worth it. And now I'm here, in this house, and I'm going to draw as much as I can and I'm not gonna leave until someone decides to finally shoot me in the head. Hopefully they'll give me enough time to put my art away so I don't bleed all over it."
Now it was Cass's turn to laugh awkwardly.