Aurelien was walking away, and in Hel's opinion the last thing any of them should do was reach out to him. Just seconds ago he'd been volatile enough to beat any person here to death through whatever justification he could pull together and like, they were sympathetic to that? Fucked up as it was they understood it, they weren't out here trying to judge him for where he was, but at the same time they didn't wanna do anything to send him back there. Give the big dude some space for a minute. Let him clear his head, if he wanted any of them to help he'd say so. Most importantly, and boy if they had a telepathic link with Jackson and Ariana they couldn't have emphasized this enough, nobody should mention Dante.
Naturally the first words out of Jackson's mouth were about Dante.
This was fine.
Maybe they were closer than Hel knew. Outside of word of mouth they weren't all that close with either of them, so they could have been childhood besties for all Hel knew. It didn't seem likely from the way Aurelien had been shrugging Jackson off before though. If he was the sort of person whose words could reach the eye of Aurelien's storm then Ariana never would have needed to draw her gun. He wouldn't have made it that far. Jackson had gotten lucky, they'd been a more convenient target than he had so he'd gotten off with a cold shoulder. There was no assurance he'd be so lucky this time. Hel jumped to the first redirection that came to their mind. "We were trying to bury her," they blurted out, "like Ariana said. In the water, or a grave on the beach if we could find something to dig."
The Sky is a Neighbourhood
Day 2; noonish - post announcement; open
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Emprexx Plush
- Posts: 1678
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Ariana had tensed as Aurelien raised the spiked maul, but the second that the weapon had flown from his hands in a neutral direction, her muscles immediately relaxed. So it was grief. It wasn't malice, there was no intention on bashing Ariana, Hel or Jackson to a pulp — unless any of them happened to be named Blaise.
They weren't; Ariana wouldn't have minded a minute or two with that little French bitch herself. Serve her right up on a fucking platter for Aurelien, absolutely.
Taking a deep breath and exhaling through her nose, Ariana slowly lowered her Glock. She needed to calm herself down; thinking about murdering Blaise in revenge wouldn't do her any good right now. There were certain lines that she really, really did not want to cross. As far as her weapon was concerned, there wasn't a chance that she was going to put it away, but she could empathize. Aurelien was grieving in the only way he knew how, it just happened to be self-destructive and violent. If she offered any consolation to him from afar, she knew that her own reaction to grief was likely similar. Had Ross been here — thank God he wasn't — she would have torn her way through anyone and everyone until she found the person responsible for his death. But he wasn't. He was safe and sound at home, healing up from his injuries. Taking care of his shoulder and nursing himself back to health.
A luxury that none of them would ever have, ever again.
Jackson seemed to jump into the driver's seat of the feelings train, and Ariana was more than happy to keep her distance. Aurelien may have been grieving, but he was still a large man. Of the lot of them, Ariana had the size disadvantage and didn't feel overly good about allowing herself into anyone's reach. It was a paranoid and awful thing to think, but the people she trusted wholly were a small group and most of them weren't even here.
Thinking over his words, her eyes widened as she finally caught on to his meaning.
"Oh, Jesus."
Apologizing wouldn't do him any good. Had he truly found Dante after he'd died, words wouldn't be enough to put the pieces together again. Without anything left to say or any condolences that wouldn't be shallow left to offer, she tackled on to Hel's words, her voice devoid of harshness now that she'd lowered her weapon.
"I think the water would be best."
Digging on a beach wasn't entirely practical, and while Ariana was devastated at seeing the pile of muscles that had once been Sapphire Waters, she knew that expending energy burying the girl would be an exercise in futility.
They weren't; Ariana wouldn't have minded a minute or two with that little French bitch herself. Serve her right up on a fucking platter for Aurelien, absolutely.
Taking a deep breath and exhaling through her nose, Ariana slowly lowered her Glock. She needed to calm herself down; thinking about murdering Blaise in revenge wouldn't do her any good right now. There were certain lines that she really, really did not want to cross. As far as her weapon was concerned, there wasn't a chance that she was going to put it away, but she could empathize. Aurelien was grieving in the only way he knew how, it just happened to be self-destructive and violent. If she offered any consolation to him from afar, she knew that her own reaction to grief was likely similar. Had Ross been here — thank God he wasn't — she would have torn her way through anyone and everyone until she found the person responsible for his death. But he wasn't. He was safe and sound at home, healing up from his injuries. Taking care of his shoulder and nursing himself back to health.
A luxury that none of them would ever have, ever again.
Jackson seemed to jump into the driver's seat of the feelings train, and Ariana was more than happy to keep her distance. Aurelien may have been grieving, but he was still a large man. Of the lot of them, Ariana had the size disadvantage and didn't feel overly good about allowing herself into anyone's reach. It was a paranoid and awful thing to think, but the people she trusted wholly were a small group and most of them weren't even here.
Thinking over his words, her eyes widened as she finally caught on to his meaning.
"Oh, Jesus."
Apologizing wouldn't do him any good. Had he truly found Dante after he'd died, words wouldn't be enough to put the pieces together again. Without anything left to say or any condolences that wouldn't be shallow left to offer, she tackled on to Hel's words, her voice devoid of harshness now that she'd lowered her weapon.
"I think the water would be best."
Digging on a beach wasn't entirely practical, and while Ariana was devastated at seeing the pile of muscles that had once been Sapphire Waters, she knew that expending energy burying the girl would be an exercise in futility.
“Don’t touch me.”
He growled the words out as Jackson touched his shoulder, tilting his head just enough for the smaller boy to see his glare. Aside from his body tensing up, and his hands turning into fists, he didn’t make any more movements. He didn’t think he needed to. He hoped Jackson would figure it out without any more prompting.
He stayed like that, still and silent, for a few more seconds, before his head dropped, and his shoulders sagged.
“Please.”
Because this wasn’t for Aurelien’s own benefit. It was for Jackson’s, and for Ariana and Hel’s, and anyone else who tried to talk him. He was volatile. A fuse so short that a single spark would cause him to explode. Millimetres and seconds away from turning around and crushing Jackson’s windpipe, or beating him to a pulp, or…
“Please…”
The two girls were talking about burying Sapphire. Jackson was trying, futile and misjudged as it was, to calm him down. None of them had killed, and it was so obvious now, and yet he was still a danger to all of them. It was partially his fault, undeniably so, risk-taking, bad judgement dumbass that he was. The terrorists had to be blamed too, obviously. None of this would have happened if it hadn’t been for them.
But it had been Blaise who’d done the deed themselves. Blaise who’d pulled the trigger. They’d swallowed the terrorists’ lies wholesale. They’d been praised for it.
Aurelien knew what they were like. They’d do it again. There’d be another Dante for someone else.
“Lemme help,” Aurelien murmured. “I can help bury her, or, whatever. I can carry her if you want.”
He looked up and into the sky, feeling the rain soaking into his bandana. He had experience with doing that, now, after all.
He growled the words out as Jackson touched his shoulder, tilting his head just enough for the smaller boy to see his glare. Aside from his body tensing up, and his hands turning into fists, he didn’t make any more movements. He didn’t think he needed to. He hoped Jackson would figure it out without any more prompting.
He stayed like that, still and silent, for a few more seconds, before his head dropped, and his shoulders sagged.
“Please.”
Because this wasn’t for Aurelien’s own benefit. It was for Jackson’s, and for Ariana and Hel’s, and anyone else who tried to talk him. He was volatile. A fuse so short that a single spark would cause him to explode. Millimetres and seconds away from turning around and crushing Jackson’s windpipe, or beating him to a pulp, or…
“Please…”
The two girls were talking about burying Sapphire. Jackson was trying, futile and misjudged as it was, to calm him down. None of them had killed, and it was so obvious now, and yet he was still a danger to all of them. It was partially his fault, undeniably so, risk-taking, bad judgement dumbass that he was. The terrorists had to be blamed too, obviously. None of this would have happened if it hadn’t been for them.
But it had been Blaise who’d done the deed themselves. Blaise who’d pulled the trigger. They’d swallowed the terrorists’ lies wholesale. They’d been praised for it.
Aurelien knew what they were like. They’d do it again. There’d be another Dante for someone else.
“Lemme help,” Aurelien murmured. “I can help bury her, or, whatever. I can carry her if you want.”
He looked up and into the sky, feeling the rain soaking into his bandana. He had experience with doing that, now, after all.
"bryony and alba would definitely join the terrorists quote me on this put this quote in signatures put it in history books" - Cicada Days, 2017
Jackson flinched back at Aurelien’s growl. He backed a few steps away with a look of deep concern across his face. Aurelien was very obviously not in the mood to be comforted. Fucking duh, Jackson you asshole. The shitty attempt he made to assuage the larger boy’s grief was a waste from the beginning. Jackson had no power to make anyone, especially someone who just lost someone they loved, feel any better. This situation wasn’t one where he could just say a few flowery words and everything would be okay. He would have realized that if he wasn’t such a fucking disappointment.
Fuck.
Ariana and Hel were talking about moving Sapphire’s body to the water. Jackson felt a sense of deja vous. It was just like the rice paddies. Jackson felt like this was what every day here would be like. Trying desperately to give their fallen classmates some sort of respect in death. Leaving her here to rot in the sand wasn’t right. He didn’t know her well, but that meant nothing. They went to school together. They took the same classes, lived in the same city. It didn’t matter if they were friends. She didn’t deserve to die here, and then be left in a heap on the ground like someone’s discarded trash.
Even Aurelien, still obviously enraptured in his own pain and grief, offered to help bring the girl to the sea. Jackson had been right about something at least. Aurelien was a good guy. He was just hurting. Hell, all of them were. All of them would be grieving over someone before their time was up. That was the worst of it, wasn’t it? Jackson, Ariana, Hel, and Aurelien, too. They’d all probably end up dead with someone grieving over them before the week was over. Only one person made it out.
“I’ll help, too.” He stated, moving closer to the body and crouching beside it.
“She doesn’t deserve to be left here. I don’t have anything to dig with, but the water is better than nothing.” He turned his head to look at the others. He tried not to think about how glassy his eyes must look from the tears he was holding back. Maybe the rain was helping him to hide it.
“Lets move her before this rain gets any worse.”
He tucked his arm under her head and lifted it up a bit. She was cold. It made his skin crawl. She was pretty stiff, too. She didn’t feel like a person. Her face had no color. Somehow though, he felt like he could see the pain on her face still. It made him want to run away, or punch something, or drink until he passed out. He didn’t know what he wanted more. This was a feeling he wasn’t used to. Most of all, he just felt so fucking helpless.
“Someone grab her legs, please.”
Fuck.
Ariana and Hel were talking about moving Sapphire’s body to the water. Jackson felt a sense of deja vous. It was just like the rice paddies. Jackson felt like this was what every day here would be like. Trying desperately to give their fallen classmates some sort of respect in death. Leaving her here to rot in the sand wasn’t right. He didn’t know her well, but that meant nothing. They went to school together. They took the same classes, lived in the same city. It didn’t matter if they were friends. She didn’t deserve to die here, and then be left in a heap on the ground like someone’s discarded trash.
Even Aurelien, still obviously enraptured in his own pain and grief, offered to help bring the girl to the sea. Jackson had been right about something at least. Aurelien was a good guy. He was just hurting. Hell, all of them were. All of them would be grieving over someone before their time was up. That was the worst of it, wasn’t it? Jackson, Ariana, Hel, and Aurelien, too. They’d all probably end up dead with someone grieving over them before the week was over. Only one person made it out.
“I’ll help, too.” He stated, moving closer to the body and crouching beside it.
“She doesn’t deserve to be left here. I don’t have anything to dig with, but the water is better than nothing.” He turned his head to look at the others. He tried not to think about how glassy his eyes must look from the tears he was holding back. Maybe the rain was helping him to hide it.
“Lets move her before this rain gets any worse.”
He tucked his arm under her head and lifted it up a bit. She was cold. It made his skin crawl. She was pretty stiff, too. She didn’t feel like a person. Her face had no color. Somehow though, he felt like he could see the pain on her face still. It made him want to run away, or punch something, or drink until he passed out. He didn’t know what he wanted more. This was a feeling he wasn’t used to. Most of all, he just felt so fucking helpless.
“Someone grab her legs, please.”
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Emprexx Plush
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Jackson and Aurelien took Sapphire's body between them. Their movements seemed unnatural, too slow one moment and too fast the next, motion added, erased, disjointed, repeated. Tears burned in their eyes and each time they blinked them away they found themself staring at new perspective without consciously taking a step. The world moved in a stop motion parody of itself around them that wouldn't slow down. The mechanisms of outward expression failed all calls to respond; their lips would not part, their tongue would not move, their voice would not rise from their stomach, their hands went nowhere but to clasp around shreds of paper they didn't remember pulling from their pockets. Oh well. They couldn't hear what was being said outside the pounding rhythm in their breast, and the things they needed to say weren't meant for the ears around them.
To the Water of this land we present a crime.
Hel never knew where the words came from in this space. They didn't have memorized chants or anything like that. Ritual was a thing of inspiration, whatever felt right moved through them in whatever way it needed and they didn't ask questions.
One crime to stand witness for many.
Whether Hel believed in magic or not was a hard thing to answer. They weren't a great authority on what was or wasn't real. It helped them though. At home when something burdened them in a way they couldn't move past they'd often searched for the right song and sat by candlelight, writing what came through waves of emotion until they were empty. It could be pages. It could be a single sentence.
I ask guidance not for myself, but for those lost and inscribed in supplication.
It could be a name.
For Abel Zelenovic, Toby Underwood, Christine Bright, Beryl Mahelona, Felix Rees, Yuko Hayashibara, Violet Quinn, Dante Valerio, Benedict Murray. If they seek peace, may your current guide them home with care we cannot.
Many names.
If they seek vengeance, may you be a storm no shelter can withstand. May you bring them to those cursed and inscribed accusation. To Paloma Salt, Tirzah Foss, Tyrell Lahti, Nick Ogilvie, Katrina Lavell, Quinn Abert, Blaise d'Aramitz, and Justin Greene.
The strips and the names they carried fell from their hands into the water. At some point they had started humming, one foot stomping along to the tune. And if you fall, if you fall...
Sapphire drifted in painfully real time. She would sink eventually, waves taking her into the last embrace she would ever need to escape this place. Hel couldn't watch for that long. The pull was strong enough already, and if they saw how easy it was to disappear the gentle lapping at their feet would swallow them head first without even retched bones to tell where they'd gone. They respected that. Feared it. Coveted it in the worst part of themself. It was not for them, though.
We present a crime. Many more will come. We make our first pact and hope for the day we make our last.
Sounded stupid probably. Dunno. They didn't remember much past the last thing they thought. Just wasn't how it all worked for them. The idea that it worked it all on some grand cosmic what the fuck ever level was probably bullshit, but it worked for them. Sometime mid-thought they'd turned around, tune on their lips carrying them all the way until they disappeared past the tree line.
((Hel Fury Continued In @shdwmstr recordings and transcripts june 10th))
To the Water of this land we present a crime.
Hel never knew where the words came from in this space. They didn't have memorized chants or anything like that. Ritual was a thing of inspiration, whatever felt right moved through them in whatever way it needed and they didn't ask questions.
One crime to stand witness for many.
Whether Hel believed in magic or not was a hard thing to answer. They weren't a great authority on what was or wasn't real. It helped them though. At home when something burdened them in a way they couldn't move past they'd often searched for the right song and sat by candlelight, writing what came through waves of emotion until they were empty. It could be pages. It could be a single sentence.
I ask guidance not for myself, but for those lost and inscribed in supplication.
It could be a name.
For Abel Zelenovic, Toby Underwood, Christine Bright, Beryl Mahelona, Felix Rees, Yuko Hayashibara, Violet Quinn, Dante Valerio, Benedict Murray. If they seek peace, may your current guide them home with care we cannot.
Many names.
If they seek vengeance, may you be a storm no shelter can withstand. May you bring them to those cursed and inscribed accusation. To Paloma Salt, Tirzah Foss, Tyrell Lahti, Nick Ogilvie, Katrina Lavell, Quinn Abert, Blaise d'Aramitz, and Justin Greene.
The strips and the names they carried fell from their hands into the water. At some point they had started humming, one foot stomping along to the tune. And if you fall, if you fall...
Sapphire drifted in painfully real time. She would sink eventually, waves taking her into the last embrace she would ever need to escape this place. Hel couldn't watch for that long. The pull was strong enough already, and if they saw how easy it was to disappear the gentle lapping at their feet would swallow them head first without even retched bones to tell where they'd gone. They respected that. Feared it. Coveted it in the worst part of themself. It was not for them, though.
We present a crime. Many more will come. We make our first pact and hope for the day we make our last.
Sounded stupid probably. Dunno. They didn't remember much past the last thing they thought. Just wasn't how it all worked for them. The idea that it worked it all on some grand cosmic what the fuck ever level was probably bullshit, but it worked for them. Sometime mid-thought they'd turned around, tune on their lips carrying them all the way until they disappeared past the tree line.
((Hel Fury Continued In @shdwmstr recordings and transcripts june 10th))
They did it.
Ariana wondered if she'd have any different of a reaction coming upon a stranger's body as she would that of a friend. She hadn't known Sapphire all that well. She was someone in school, a shape or a face that registered as someone she went to school with. Sending her out to sea felt right; she had intended on helping but Jackson and Aurelien had just taken charge. In the end, she was glad for that. Would she have been able to keep her cool having touched someone who was no longer alive? Looking at a body that was no longer full of life?
She didn't know.
There wasn't much she could say for sure right now, anyway. Ariana missed her Dad. She missed Ross, missed her bed. Missed the feeling of Ross in her bed. A feeling that she knew would never come again. What would he have done had he been here? Ross was a thinker, he was a guy who never liked confrontation and was more or less everyone's friend. It's why he got along with people like Dante, like Connor, like Forrest or Alton or whoever else was around at a given time.
It's why he would likely have ended up like Sapphire sooner than later.
Shutting her eyes at the thought, she squeezed them as hard as she could.
Once she opened them up, Ariana wasn't sure how long she stood there, watching Sapphire drift away into the ocean. Her collar wouldn't have blown up; she wasn't alive so the terrorists probably didn't give a shit. At some point, Hel left. She barely noticed. Ariana just looked up and Hel was gone.
That was the likely fate for the lot of them, she knew. They'd leave, and then they'd be another name on an announcement, another body to come across. She agonized for Aurelien, coming across Dante like he had. It was a combination knock-out punch. To hear about it, to see it, to viscerally take Dante's hand in his and know that there was no more life there, that there never would be again. It was — she tried to bury her emotions but it was enough to bring a tear to her eye. Something was different. She couldn't deal with this anymore. All of this death, it had to stop. It had to have an impact.
At some point, it started raining.
"Aurelien," she broke the silence. "If— when I come across Blaise, I'll give her your regards," she looked at the pistol that had suddenly appeared in her hand, "and Dante's."
She needed to be alone; she knew that. The boys would have been good company but Aurelien was likely on the precipice of doing something reckless. She was reckless enough for all of them. Yet, she gave them the option.
"That's where I'm going." She paused. "I know. I know how it sounds. But I don't know what else to do. If you want to come," she let the sentence hang.
"I understand if you don't. But hey — if you see me again, don't shoot."
Her voice was gravelly, broken. Sapphire's body had touched her more than she'd realized and she wanted to get away from it. From all of it.
" I won't. I promise. Not at you."
Giving the boys a sad smile, she turned around and headed away from the bay, not waiting to see if they followed her through the gates of Hell that she'd decided to venture towards.
A part of her hoped they would. If she were going to be damned, it was better to be damned with friends.
((Ariana Moretti continued in Tragedy of the Commons))
Ariana wondered if she'd have any different of a reaction coming upon a stranger's body as she would that of a friend. She hadn't known Sapphire all that well. She was someone in school, a shape or a face that registered as someone she went to school with. Sending her out to sea felt right; she had intended on helping but Jackson and Aurelien had just taken charge. In the end, she was glad for that. Would she have been able to keep her cool having touched someone who was no longer alive? Looking at a body that was no longer full of life?
She didn't know.
There wasn't much she could say for sure right now, anyway. Ariana missed her Dad. She missed Ross, missed her bed. Missed the feeling of Ross in her bed. A feeling that she knew would never come again. What would he have done had he been here? Ross was a thinker, he was a guy who never liked confrontation and was more or less everyone's friend. It's why he got along with people like Dante, like Connor, like Forrest or Alton or whoever else was around at a given time.
It's why he would likely have ended up like Sapphire sooner than later.
Shutting her eyes at the thought, she squeezed them as hard as she could.
Once she opened them up, Ariana wasn't sure how long she stood there, watching Sapphire drift away into the ocean. Her collar wouldn't have blown up; she wasn't alive so the terrorists probably didn't give a shit. At some point, Hel left. She barely noticed. Ariana just looked up and Hel was gone.
That was the likely fate for the lot of them, she knew. They'd leave, and then they'd be another name on an announcement, another body to come across. She agonized for Aurelien, coming across Dante like he had. It was a combination knock-out punch. To hear about it, to see it, to viscerally take Dante's hand in his and know that there was no more life there, that there never would be again. It was — she tried to bury her emotions but it was enough to bring a tear to her eye. Something was different. She couldn't deal with this anymore. All of this death, it had to stop. It had to have an impact.
At some point, it started raining.
"Aurelien," she broke the silence. "If— when I come across Blaise, I'll give her your regards," she looked at the pistol that had suddenly appeared in her hand, "and Dante's."
She needed to be alone; she knew that. The boys would have been good company but Aurelien was likely on the precipice of doing something reckless. She was reckless enough for all of them. Yet, she gave them the option.
"That's where I'm going." She paused. "I know. I know how it sounds. But I don't know what else to do. If you want to come," she let the sentence hang.
"I understand if you don't. But hey — if you see me again, don't shoot."
Her voice was gravelly, broken. Sapphire's body had touched her more than she'd realized and she wanted to get away from it. From all of it.
" I won't. I promise. Not at you."
Giving the boys a sad smile, she turned around and headed away from the bay, not waiting to see if they followed her through the gates of Hell that she'd decided to venture towards.
A part of her hoped they would. If she were going to be damned, it was better to be damned with friends.
((Ariana Moretti continued in Tragedy of the Commons))
He had experience with carrying bodies. He still wasn’t used to it.
He was thankful for that, honestly. He didn’t particularly want to live in a world where carrying and moving and, fuck, just seeing the bodies of people was so commonplace that he could become used to or numb to it. What kind of a world would that be?
Well. One where he threatened to break peoples bones with a mace and where Ariana had to point a gun at him, he supposed.
He still wasn’t able to look at Sapphire as he carried her over to the water with Jackson. He couldn’t bring himself to even glance at her face, staring down at his feet as he trudged over the sand, catching the barest glimpses of his pale knuckles, still a darker shade than the ankles his hands were wrapped around. At least he was actually recognising her for who she was, admitting to himself that it was her body he was holding, and not just… someone’s. Not just a nameless husk. That it was Sapphire Waters’s body he was helping to carry, to lay down into the coastal waters, to let go and let drift away.
He guessed it was a sign that he could bring himself back down to Earth, and the boy he once was, but it had taken an awful long time and an awful lot of commotion to get him there.
Sapphire drifted away, and Aurelien was left to stare into the horizon, unsure of what to do anymore with his hands, his legs, his voice, his body. He knew Sapphire well enough to be distressed about her murder. Not well enough, though, to say any words of passing. He didn’t think, even if he had any in mind, that he’d be able to get them out though. Not without his anger and fear taking hold again.
Ariana’s voice cut through the silence after a time. Aurelien turned, listlessly, looking at her, standing up to his ankles in ice-cold seawater. Hel, he noticed, had already gone. He couldn’t blame them one bit. You threaten someone with a huge iron bludgeon, you see how many friends you kept. He wished them well, wherever they were now and wherever they were headed. Hopefully somewhere without corpses of friends and without people trying to murder them.
He nodded at Ariana and gave her a weak smile without saying anything. For several moments, he had no intention of following her. He just wanted to stand in the water and let everything drain out of him until the chill cut through to him and jolted him back to his senses.
It felt stupid to admit, pathetic and sappy, but the thing that forced him out of the water more than anything was the fact he didn’t want Dante’s blood to wash off of his jeans, the last remnant of his boyfriend he had left.
And once he was out of the water, and onto the sand, he kept on walking, moving to where his mace lay and picking it up, before heading in the same direction Ariana had gone. He’d made a mistake, splitting with Ned, and he’d be making an even bigger mistake if he let Ariana go. He was afraid of lashing out, afraid of hurting the people he cared for and loved. But he could trust Ariana after this, and knew that she didn’t have any malicious intent. There was no reason for him to swipe at her, not unless something went horribly drastically wrong. And more than that, if he tried to lash out at anyone else, to jump to conclusions and swing at another innocent, she could serve as a steadying hand and a voice of reason.
Aurelien nodded at Jackson as he walked past, then kept his head low. There was one other thing that Ariana had said, something that he couldn’t allow to pass. Something he needed to stick with her for, to ensure she didn’t make it happen.
The only person who’d end up with Blaise’s blood on their hands was him.
((Aurelien Valter continued in Tragedy of the Commons))
He was thankful for that, honestly. He didn’t particularly want to live in a world where carrying and moving and, fuck, just seeing the bodies of people was so commonplace that he could become used to or numb to it. What kind of a world would that be?
Well. One where he threatened to break peoples bones with a mace and where Ariana had to point a gun at him, he supposed.
He still wasn’t able to look at Sapphire as he carried her over to the water with Jackson. He couldn’t bring himself to even glance at her face, staring down at his feet as he trudged over the sand, catching the barest glimpses of his pale knuckles, still a darker shade than the ankles his hands were wrapped around. At least he was actually recognising her for who she was, admitting to himself that it was her body he was holding, and not just… someone’s. Not just a nameless husk. That it was Sapphire Waters’s body he was helping to carry, to lay down into the coastal waters, to let go and let drift away.
He guessed it was a sign that he could bring himself back down to Earth, and the boy he once was, but it had taken an awful long time and an awful lot of commotion to get him there.
Sapphire drifted away, and Aurelien was left to stare into the horizon, unsure of what to do anymore with his hands, his legs, his voice, his body. He knew Sapphire well enough to be distressed about her murder. Not well enough, though, to say any words of passing. He didn’t think, even if he had any in mind, that he’d be able to get them out though. Not without his anger and fear taking hold again.
Ariana’s voice cut through the silence after a time. Aurelien turned, listlessly, looking at her, standing up to his ankles in ice-cold seawater. Hel, he noticed, had already gone. He couldn’t blame them one bit. You threaten someone with a huge iron bludgeon, you see how many friends you kept. He wished them well, wherever they were now and wherever they were headed. Hopefully somewhere without corpses of friends and without people trying to murder them.
He nodded at Ariana and gave her a weak smile without saying anything. For several moments, he had no intention of following her. He just wanted to stand in the water and let everything drain out of him until the chill cut through to him and jolted him back to his senses.
It felt stupid to admit, pathetic and sappy, but the thing that forced him out of the water more than anything was the fact he didn’t want Dante’s blood to wash off of his jeans, the last remnant of his boyfriend he had left.
And once he was out of the water, and onto the sand, he kept on walking, moving to where his mace lay and picking it up, before heading in the same direction Ariana had gone. He’d made a mistake, splitting with Ned, and he’d be making an even bigger mistake if he let Ariana go. He was afraid of lashing out, afraid of hurting the people he cared for and loved. But he could trust Ariana after this, and knew that she didn’t have any malicious intent. There was no reason for him to swipe at her, not unless something went horribly drastically wrong. And more than that, if he tried to lash out at anyone else, to jump to conclusions and swing at another innocent, she could serve as a steadying hand and a voice of reason.
Aurelien nodded at Jackson as he walked past, then kept his head low. There was one other thing that Ariana had said, something that he couldn’t allow to pass. Something he needed to stick with her for, to ensure she didn’t make it happen.
The only person who’d end up with Blaise’s blood on their hands was him.
((Aurelien Valter continued in Tragedy of the Commons))
"bryony and alba would definitely join the terrorists quote me on this put this quote in signatures put it in history books" - Cicada Days, 2017
Before he knew it, Aurelien had grabbed the other end of Sapphire’s body and they made their way to the water, getting deep enough to float her off. It reminded him of a Viking Funeral, but there was no fire with which to burn her as she was condemned to her watery grave. Still… anything was better than to be left to rot on this island, Jackson was positive of that. Sapphire’s family and friends wouldn’t have to watch her body decay and fester in the island heat. He had to believe that, at least, was a kindness. The group stood in silence as they watched her body disappear among the waves. It was a silence broken only by the patter of raindrops as they fell to the sea around them.
This was the second body he’d seen off to their grave.
The second time he’d had no words for the goodbye.
This time, however, there were no tears. Not like with Abel. Jackson wasn’t entirely sure if that was good or bad. If anything, he just felt completely numb. People were dying. No… people were being killed. Dying implied that they were falling from natural causes. All the bodies littered around the island were the result of someone deciding to take their lives. This wasn’t natural by any means. He’d already seen first hand what people were willing to become. Gervais was a beast, doing anything he could to hurt the people around him. For what? For some minuscule chance that they’d be the last one left?
It was absolute madness.
But then, maybe he was the truly mad one. Maybe they all had the right of it? Kill your friends to save yourself, otherwise they may do it first. It was twisted, but it was the truth they were living. So many had already fallen victim to the island and it’s ever growing feeling of dread. He didn’t want to die, either. He wanted to go home just as bad as everyone else. His parents needed him. His father needed him. He had a future. To have it all end here…
Jackson turned to see Hel had vanished from the area. Now they were down to three. Ariana broke the silence first. She laid out her plan. She was going after the killers. With her gun, she may stand a chance. But for what? To become a killer herself? She offered them to go along. Jackson was conflicted. She was a friend. Maybe not a good one, but a friend nonetheless. And Ross… He wasn’t here to help her now. For the sake of his friendship, Jackson felt a pull to stay by her side. As Ariana walked off, Aurelien moved past him, obviously intending to follow.
Jackson had no weapon.
He had no grudge.
No reason to follow.
Nothing he brought to the table.
…
“I’m sorry…” he whispered. A message meant for his parents, who may be watching him, for friends who may yet die here.
Maybe a message to himself, for what he was about to do.
With determination of his face, Jackson followed the retreating figures. He prayed the path they were about to walk wouldn’t lead them all to their graves.
[Jackson Sullivan Continued in Tragedy Of The Commons]
This was the second body he’d seen off to their grave.
The second time he’d had no words for the goodbye.
This time, however, there were no tears. Not like with Abel. Jackson wasn’t entirely sure if that was good or bad. If anything, he just felt completely numb. People were dying. No… people were being killed. Dying implied that they were falling from natural causes. All the bodies littered around the island were the result of someone deciding to take their lives. This wasn’t natural by any means. He’d already seen first hand what people were willing to become. Gervais was a beast, doing anything he could to hurt the people around him. For what? For some minuscule chance that they’d be the last one left?
It was absolute madness.
But then, maybe he was the truly mad one. Maybe they all had the right of it? Kill your friends to save yourself, otherwise they may do it first. It was twisted, but it was the truth they were living. So many had already fallen victim to the island and it’s ever growing feeling of dread. He didn’t want to die, either. He wanted to go home just as bad as everyone else. His parents needed him. His father needed him. He had a future. To have it all end here…
Jackson turned to see Hel had vanished from the area. Now they were down to three. Ariana broke the silence first. She laid out her plan. She was going after the killers. With her gun, she may stand a chance. But for what? To become a killer herself? She offered them to go along. Jackson was conflicted. She was a friend. Maybe not a good one, but a friend nonetheless. And Ross… He wasn’t here to help her now. For the sake of his friendship, Jackson felt a pull to stay by her side. As Ariana walked off, Aurelien moved past him, obviously intending to follow.
Jackson had no weapon.
He had no grudge.
No reason to follow.
Nothing he brought to the table.
…
“I’m sorry…” he whispered. A message meant for his parents, who may be watching him, for friends who may yet die here.
Maybe a message to himself, for what he was about to do.
With determination of his face, Jackson followed the retreating figures. He prayed the path they were about to walk wouldn’t lead them all to their graves.
[Jackson Sullivan Continued in Tragedy Of The Commons]