Run, run, before you're well done, girly.
Hayley ran.
The woods weren't thick here, right by the beach. The trees were spaced out enough that running wasn't an issue, particularly considering Hayley's current state of fucking adrenaline-rushed-as-shit. If that's even a phrase, which it's not. It occurred to her eventually that she was running after a sound that had long since past, a loud sound that could have easily echoed and fucked up her perception of where it had actually come from. Of course, by the time she realized this she'd already gotten pretty damn far into the woods.
Fuckkk, I have no idea where I'm going, do I? Running on stale bread and fumes and adrenaline...I need an energy drink or some vodka or some shit. Gah.
She realized suddenly that she still had some vodka in a flask back in her bag. Suddenly she felt much better.
She stopped running and tried to stop her mind from running its...mouth? Brains don't have mouths though. WHY AM I THINKING ABOUT THIS?, which obviously was an exceptionally difficult task for one Hayley Kelly. After a few moments she managed to open her mind enough to hear, really hear, the world around her.
It was quiet. TOO QUIET. God I've always wanted to say that. SHUT UP, BRAIN.
Birds chirping, oblivious to the game they'd found themselves living around. The wind blowing through the leaves. Footsteps.
Footsteps?
Footsteps. Coming from back the way she'd came.
"Fuuuuuuuuucker..." she couldn't help but mutter to herself. The louder and more colorful curses occurred, thankfully, in her head. She headed back in that direction, slower this time in an effort not to be so loud, though the adrenaline pumping through her legs screamed faster, faster, you idiot, you're running out of time...
She was, in fact, running out of time, though she couldn't yet know that.
"Stay back! I-I-I-I'll shoot! I-"
Hayley paused, confused. The voice was a definite, but she couldn't see anyone yet, and the voice didn't seem to be pointed in her direction. Obviously this was the gun-wielder she'd heard earlier (unless there was a second person with a gun lurking around, not something she wanted to think about) but who was he talking t-
Kyle. Ema.
Danger, Will Robinson.
She panicked for a fraction of a second only before realizing that this was her goddamn chance. They needed her, needed her to save them from crazy-guy-with-a-gun, needed her help, and she felt good about that. This was something she could do, something she wouldn't regret, something anyone would understand! She was gonna be a motherfucking hero right now, pull off some white knight shit, come riding in on...uh...her feet with fucking Excalibur and save her princess and...uh...my prince? WHATEVER, let's go, Hayley, really awesome things don't happen themselves.
She moved towards the voice. Slowly. Quietly. If he really did have a gun and he heard a branch snap or some shit behind him he'd swerve and BANG and no more head for Hayley. She did want to run but oh fucking well, self preservation is pretty cool.
"T-This isn't what it looks like...I swear, I swear..."
The fuck is he talking about. This isn't what if fucking looks like? Pointing a gun at someone is generally what it looks like, honeybee.
Hayley was quite annoyed that whoever this boy was seemed to be trying to ruin her soon-to-be-created hero cred by playing the victim. He was ruining her buzz.
Wait. Buzz? Hero or not I should NOT be getting this hype about, like, killing people.
Fuck, what is this game doing to my brain?
No time to think about this now. Not unless you like watching your friends die.
She gritted her teeth, not sure what to be annoyed at- her ever-irritating inner game voice for making her feel like a bad person all the damn time, or her moral center (such as it was) making her feel like...well...a bad person all the damn time. Either she was going to feel guilty about this, or she wasn't. Either she was a bad person, or she wasn't. Hayley was never a fan of dichotomies and this was in no way an exception. At any rate, she kept moving. Hero or not, bad person or not, she wasn't about to let anyone get shot.
She saw him. His back, at any rate. Close, pretty close, anyway, clearly holding- she would have whistled if she wasn't trying to be sneaky, it was a pretty, pretty gun and she wanted to have it shut up Hayley that's not the point you're not killing him for the fucking gun are you sure yes I'm fucking sure and he was definitely pointing it at someone. He could see the beach beyond him and- yes, he couldn't see their faces but it was unmistakeably Ema and Kyle. She moved closer. Slowly. Her hand tightened around the hilt of her by-now-beloved weapon.
"Hey! Drop it! Drop the knife! I-I'm not joking! Don't just stand there! Drop the knife! Your whore girlfriend's gone and cut someone's head off! That bitch, s-she-"
Oh, no. Nooooo. This cocksucking MOTHERFUCKER.
Hayley was used to being called a whore. Used to being called a bitch. In normal circumstances, she'd laugh, say something suitably bitchy and cutting in response. These were what you would call 'abnormal circumstances' and Hayley Kelly was gonna have to cut a bitch.
Literally.
She dashed, her feet lifting off the ground, making up the distance between herself and the boy in front of her too quickly for him to react. The feeling was disturbingly familiar. An exact repeat of last time. But no matter, last time she was panicked and scared and being stupid. This time she felt no guilt, not because she was saving her friends, but because she was damn straight pissed off.
"You're - NO ONE'S not going to get me so easily! J-Just-"
She was practically smirking when her sword bit hard into the boy's neck.
So much for heroism.
Sorry, Mom. Sorry, God.
Day 2 (Night) - THREAD CLOSED
-
Hollyquin†
- Posts: 332
- Joined: Sat Sep 01, 2018 5:24 am
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Hollyquin. 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.
-
armeggedonCounselor†
- Posts: 190
- Joined: Sat Sep 01, 2018 5:24 am
Kyle was surprised at the boy coming out of the forest. He didn't move, didn't flinch, watched the boy watch the ocean for a moment. It seemed he had failed to notice Ema and Kyle.
And then the boy turned. Eye contact was made. And the situation took a downward turn.
The gun came up, leveled at Ema. The boy was yelling, it wasn't coherent. And Kyle's mind betrayed him.
'He's aiming at her. That simplifies the problem. If he shoots her, Hayley is all mine.'
'NO. SHUT UP. SHE IS HAYLEY'S FRIEND, NOTHING MORE. AND YOU SHOULD PROTECT HER.'
He raised the knife slightly. The movement caught the boy's eye. And now the gun was on Kyle. And the boy was screaming again, telling Kyle to drop the knife. And then he made a fatal mistake.
He called Hayley a whore.
Now, normally, Kyle could deal with that. It happened. Hayley had a reputation, and Kyle had heard about it. But right now, Kyle's nerves were shot, what with his OCD acting up and the lack of sleep, and the overly stressful day he had had yesterday. So his brain shut down.
"YOU SHUT YOUR FUCKING MOUTH!"
The yell tore itself free of his throat, a primal roar that begged for satisfaction, for blood. The hand with his knife dropped back as Kyle dove forward, setting off at a run straight for the boy. This was when his brain started screaming. The gun was still pointing directly at him. Then he saw Hayley's sword rise up behind the boy, and strike down. Kyle's momentum kept him moving forward, the knife spinning in his hand as he drove it point first toward the boy- insult to injury, as he was already dead from Hayley's strike.
And then the boy turned. Eye contact was made. And the situation took a downward turn.
The gun came up, leveled at Ema. The boy was yelling, it wasn't coherent. And Kyle's mind betrayed him.
'He's aiming at her. That simplifies the problem. If he shoots her, Hayley is all mine.'
'NO. SHUT UP. SHE IS HAYLEY'S FRIEND, NOTHING MORE. AND YOU SHOULD PROTECT HER.'
He raised the knife slightly. The movement caught the boy's eye. And now the gun was on Kyle. And the boy was screaming again, telling Kyle to drop the knife. And then he made a fatal mistake.
He called Hayley a whore.
Now, normally, Kyle could deal with that. It happened. Hayley had a reputation, and Kyle had heard about it. But right now, Kyle's nerves were shot, what with his OCD acting up and the lack of sleep, and the overly stressful day he had had yesterday. So his brain shut down.
"YOU SHUT YOUR FUCKING MOUTH!"
The yell tore itself free of his throat, a primal roar that begged for satisfaction, for blood. The hand with his knife dropped back as Kyle dove forward, setting off at a run straight for the boy. This was when his brain started screaming. The gun was still pointing directly at him. Then he saw Hayley's sword rise up behind the boy, and strike down. Kyle's momentum kept him moving forward, the knife spinning in his hand as he drove it point first toward the boy- insult to injury, as he was already dead from Hayley's strike.
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler armeggedonCounselor. 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.
"Stay back!"
Odd way to start off, since he was the one approaching in the first place. Approaching with a gun.
"I-I-I-I'll shoot! I-"
With a gun. Shit. "Stop thinking about it and do something about it!"
But he had a gun. Kyle only had a knife. She had nothing at all. Hayley was nowhere to be seen.
Divide and conquer, genius. If he actually meant to, that is.
"T-This isn't what it looks like... I swear, I swear..."
Apparently not. From horrified to terrified and now to hopeful, Ema's face gave away what she was thinking. Maybe James wasn't going to shoot them, maybe he was just scared and jumpy, and he didn't want to be surprise-attacked by them. Or maybe he was playing them all for fools - he'd lessened their numerical advantage already, and had the upper hand in terms of range and firepower. Shit. What do.
"Hey! Drop it! Drop the knife! I-I'm not joking! Don't just stand there! Drop the knife!"
More points in the "playing us" column, then, Ema's expression returned to one of fear. Having scared them suitably by aiming at the unarmed one, he'd shifted his attention to Kyle, and wanted to weaken them even more by having him drop his knife first. Cunning bastard. Ema's body didn't know what to do, it refused to move, as if rooted to the spot. Her mouth wouldn't open to speak her mind. She was literally petrified.
"Your whore girlfriend's gone and cut someone's head off! That bitch, s-she - You're - NO ONE'S not going to get me so easily! J-Just-"
Well that probably wasn't a good idea. Scared as Ema was, Kyle was certainly still mobile and still armed. He would not be best pleased to hear James talk about Hayley like that, either. If Hayley were around, she probably wouldn't either.
"YOU SHUT YOUR FUCKING MOUTH!"
Very pissed off, then. Movement returned to Ema's body enough for her to straighten up, and get a clearer look at both their attacker and her remaining companion. And Hayley, just a few metres behind them, looking... oddly pleased with herself.
"You're - NO ONE'S not going to get me so easily! J-Just-"
When the angry couple descended on James, Ema honestly couldn't decide just what his motivation had been, whether he'd really been trying to screw with their heads to ensure an easy kill, or if he'd just been scared and armed. It didn't much matter any more, with one blade sinking into his neck and another into his torso. It wasn't a pretty sight. It really wasn't.
But Ema stood transfixed, unable to pull her eyes from the gruesome spectacle before her.
What surprised her most, for the split second that it was happening, was how easily it happened. How little resistance a human body mustered in response to a blade.
It was not a pretty sight. In the seconds before doubling over and losing the bread she'd just minutes ago eaten, Ema managed a weak "What is it with you and heads?"
Odd way to start off, since he was the one approaching in the first place. Approaching with a gun.
"I-I-I-I'll shoot! I-"
With a gun. Shit. "Stop thinking about it and do something about it!"
But he had a gun. Kyle only had a knife. She had nothing at all. Hayley was nowhere to be seen.
Divide and conquer, genius. If he actually meant to, that is.
"T-This isn't what it looks like... I swear, I swear..."
Apparently not. From horrified to terrified and now to hopeful, Ema's face gave away what she was thinking. Maybe James wasn't going to shoot them, maybe he was just scared and jumpy, and he didn't want to be surprise-attacked by them. Or maybe he was playing them all for fools - he'd lessened their numerical advantage already, and had the upper hand in terms of range and firepower. Shit. What do.
"Hey! Drop it! Drop the knife! I-I'm not joking! Don't just stand there! Drop the knife!"
More points in the "playing us" column, then, Ema's expression returned to one of fear. Having scared them suitably by aiming at the unarmed one, he'd shifted his attention to Kyle, and wanted to weaken them even more by having him drop his knife first. Cunning bastard. Ema's body didn't know what to do, it refused to move, as if rooted to the spot. Her mouth wouldn't open to speak her mind. She was literally petrified.
"Your whore girlfriend's gone and cut someone's head off! That bitch, s-she - You're - NO ONE'S not going to get me so easily! J-Just-"
Well that probably wasn't a good idea. Scared as Ema was, Kyle was certainly still mobile and still armed. He would not be best pleased to hear James talk about Hayley like that, either. If Hayley were around, she probably wouldn't either.
"YOU SHUT YOUR FUCKING MOUTH!"
Very pissed off, then. Movement returned to Ema's body enough for her to straighten up, and get a clearer look at both their attacker and her remaining companion. And Hayley, just a few metres behind them, looking... oddly pleased with herself.
"You're - NO ONE'S not going to get me so easily! J-Just-"
When the angry couple descended on James, Ema honestly couldn't decide just what his motivation had been, whether he'd really been trying to screw with their heads to ensure an easy kill, or if he'd just been scared and armed. It didn't much matter any more, with one blade sinking into his neck and another into his torso. It wasn't a pretty sight. It really wasn't.
But Ema stood transfixed, unable to pull her eyes from the gruesome spectacle before her.
What surprised her most, for the split second that it was happening, was how easily it happened. How little resistance a human body mustered in response to a blade.
It was not a pretty sight. In the seconds before doubling over and losing the bread she'd just minutes ago eaten, Ema managed a weak "What is it with you and heads?"
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Chib. 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.
This wasn't possible. No, couldn't be. James couldn't be... No. Impossible.
James didn't know what hit him.
The pain, both physical and mental, surged through him. All of the pressures being exerted against him made it impossible which ones were real. Which ones were killing him from the inside and which ones were fake.
James wondered briefly just how he got himself into this mess. He thought. Think. Think. Think.
It all happened so fast.
Perhaps,
it had been his choice of words.
James always had a problem with speaking with people. Whenever he spoke in front of the class, the words ran out of his mouth before he had a chance to think.
Was it "whore" that set this whole situation in flames? Yes, yes it was. James should have used a different word, something less demeaning. That had been his bad. James felt guilty. He never cursed. Never called someone a whore in his entire life until now. It was unlike him. At that very moment, the James Mulzet he knew had become someone else entirely.
Hayley and James never got on though. They were both intelligent people but Hayley was... well, nothing like James. She was lazy, she wanted things done her way. James learned all about this when they had to do a project together in ninth grade. Hayley was no control freak but it had been that stubborn, "my idea is perfect" attitude that got them a C. A C. James hated C's. It was a blemish on his grades. A big pimple. And it had all been her fault. IT was her fault he got so angry. Fuck Hayley. Fuck everyone. This was bullshit. Why did he have to get punished? Shouldn't she be with him too?!
And yet
When he thought about it
He figured that the only one to blame for his actions
Was himself.
He wished he could have someone to reassure him. To tell him that he made all the right choices instead of people expecting him to figure that out on his own. James was always expected to come up with his own answers. He loved his parents but they never sat down at the dinner table to help him with his homework. Every accomplishment James Mulzet achieved was done so by his own two hands. He couldn't for the life of him come up with an answer to such a riddle. Pointing a gun at a knife-wielding kid, getting flustered and spouting out nonsense... was that a good choice? Please, someone from the audience. Does anyone know the answer to this? If you do, come and help James. He needs an answer.
And James waited for the reply that he knew would not arrive.
James let out a blood-splattered groaned.
Alas, James had only his mind to keep him company. Alone in his own tortured brain. Everything was so desperately cold in there.. James thought his skin would turn blue from the sheer freeze. No one was around, and he mentally slumped. James was alone with his thoughts. Ironic, wasn't it? The one thing he desperately wanted to be separated from became his only companion.
James was supposed to go to Princeton you know?. It wasn't like his parents picked a college at random - James desperately wanted to be in Princeton. They had an amazing Physics Department. One of the best in the country. James Mulzet loved math, and he adored physics. It was his best subject. He knew the answer to x^2 + 1 = 0 like the back of his hand. He could do it in his head if he wanted. Subtract 1 from each side. x^2 = -1 Take the square root. i = SQRT(-1). x = i, -i Easy stuff. He wouldn't have made it in Princeton though. Not when he made stupid decisions like calling someone's girlfriend a whore right in front of them. James was an idiot. They would have kicked him out on the grounds of a waste of space.
Yes, James was just one big gelatinous ball of useless and it took him this long to realize it.
Blood flew everywhere from the gaping hole in his neck. Like someone plunging a hammer to a watermelon. Hayley was splattered with the debris.
His mind plunged into dark, negative thoughts. Mother Mulzet, age 6, sending her boy to school, glad to see him going. Winnie, sobbing, stuck up above, helplessly scared and refusing any help. Kyle, face encased in rage, lunging towards him, hate in his eyes. James, looking in the mirror, about to head on his one last trip with Thea.
Thea. Thea Thea Thea. His whole body fought on the subject Thea Kairos. Thea hand lightly brushing against Ricky, smiling to herself. The tennis ball was thrown up into the air. The server started. Isn't that just great? James was an idiot. James used to identify with Thea so much. He fooled himself into believing in her. So guess what? She's probably fucking Ricky now. She's probably forgotten all about James. That's what he got for caring. The ball hit the other court. The receiver retaliated. No. Thea was genuine. She never lied. When she said those three oh-so-overused words she meant every syllable. He could remember how the rest of the cheerleaders picked on the other kids, the ones who were more normal than James. James never went home in tears. Was that Thea's doing? Maybe she loved him longer than he ever did for her, and for that he should be thankful. If Thea really did keep James safe then that was the ultimate proof of her feelings. James would be smiling like a madman if he weren't... yeah...
His neck surged forward.
He didn't stop there. He had little time, and there were so many people that James found himself worrying about.
He let go of the gun,
Jason Clarke. James never liked Jason but... Jason wasn't a bad guy. James hoped he'd be alright despite his own personal feelings.
Hayley Kelly. James hated her ever since ninth grade. He had crossed a line though. He wished he could apologize to Hayley. James wished she had been with Kyle so he could have apologized when the word "whore" left his lips. Perhaps he'd still have a chance.
Ema Ryan. James felt regretful for pointing the gun at her first. She looked absolutely terrified. Was James being a loon or something?
Kyle... James didn't know his last name. He doubted Kyle would accept any apology James could offer. So he left it at that.
Raine Schwarz. Poor girl. James didn't think she would survive. It was heartbreaking, even more so when he remembered that the last time she had seen her she had been bawling. And James had just pushed her away. James felt like a monster.
Ricky Fortino. James felt bad for thinking the guy was trying to steal his girlfriend away. Maybe he wasn't so bad.
Winnie Clark. James hesitated. Now was the time to be open. There would be no other time for him to be honest. James didn't hold back. He felt something for Winnie. Not with the passion of a thousand suns and most definitely not in the way he felt for Thea. It was a feeling all the same, one that he couldn't come up with a rational explanation for. James was a boy, he liked girls. Winnie was cute, quiet, stubborn. Was it wrong to feel something for another girl and yet never act on it? He couldn't be committing any form of adultery if you simply felt sorry for a girl. Pity love? Was that the term? James pity loved Winnie. He wished he could have spent more time with her so he'd know for sure.
and then,
And James felt his mind slowly move to the rest of the kids on this trip, both alive and dead. The fates of all the kids, the ones he didn't know, the ones he did not like, made him want to cringe. What would happen? His mind spun. He felt ready to vomit. Fuck. Had he vomited already? It was hard to tell. Now he was lost, unsure of what had actually happened and what was just a figment of his imagination. What had happened to him? Could someone please tell James what just happened?
James didn't wait for a response. He didn't need to. He already knew.
his eyes rolled up.
In the end James Mulzet stopped worrying about his situation. It was all over. Just take a deep breath and let the numb take over you James.
Yet there was so much James wanted to worry about and that there was still work to be done. He had to be the hero.
And then it hit James like a brick to the face that now,
in the blinding darkness of his soul,
his cocoon of lost potential,
nothing really mattered.
Not a damn thing.
Nothin
g mat
ters
no
w
.
And James Mulzet hoped that the others would be able to find solace in their own mental prisons. Just as he did in his final hour.
He joined the 51 other guests by the warm fire in the manor
And 224 lost souls were left to freeze to death outside.
James didn't know what hit him.
The pain, both physical and mental, surged through him. All of the pressures being exerted against him made it impossible which ones were real. Which ones were killing him from the inside and which ones were fake.
James wondered briefly just how he got himself into this mess. He thought. Think. Think. Think.
It all happened so fast.
Perhaps,
it had been his choice of words.
James always had a problem with speaking with people. Whenever he spoke in front of the class, the words ran out of his mouth before he had a chance to think.
Was it "whore" that set this whole situation in flames? Yes, yes it was. James should have used a different word, something less demeaning. That had been his bad. James felt guilty. He never cursed. Never called someone a whore in his entire life until now. It was unlike him. At that very moment, the James Mulzet he knew had become someone else entirely.
Hayley and James never got on though. They were both intelligent people but Hayley was... well, nothing like James. She was lazy, she wanted things done her way. James learned all about this when they had to do a project together in ninth grade. Hayley was no control freak but it had been that stubborn, "my idea is perfect" attitude that got them a C. A C. James hated C's. It was a blemish on his grades. A big pimple. And it had all been her fault. IT was her fault he got so angry. Fuck Hayley. Fuck everyone. This was bullshit. Why did he have to get punished? Shouldn't she be with him too?!
And yet
When he thought about it
He figured that the only one to blame for his actions
Was himself.
He wished he could have someone to reassure him. To tell him that he made all the right choices instead of people expecting him to figure that out on his own. James was always expected to come up with his own answers. He loved his parents but they never sat down at the dinner table to help him with his homework. Every accomplishment James Mulzet achieved was done so by his own two hands. He couldn't for the life of him come up with an answer to such a riddle. Pointing a gun at a knife-wielding kid, getting flustered and spouting out nonsense... was that a good choice? Please, someone from the audience. Does anyone know the answer to this? If you do, come and help James. He needs an answer.
And James waited for the reply that he knew would not arrive.
James let out a blood-splattered groaned.
Alas, James had only his mind to keep him company. Alone in his own tortured brain. Everything was so desperately cold in there.. James thought his skin would turn blue from the sheer freeze. No one was around, and he mentally slumped. James was alone with his thoughts. Ironic, wasn't it? The one thing he desperately wanted to be separated from became his only companion.
James was supposed to go to Princeton you know?. It wasn't like his parents picked a college at random - James desperately wanted to be in Princeton. They had an amazing Physics Department. One of the best in the country. James Mulzet loved math, and he adored physics. It was his best subject. He knew the answer to x^2 + 1 = 0 like the back of his hand. He could do it in his head if he wanted. Subtract 1 from each side. x^2 = -1 Take the square root. i = SQRT(-1). x = i, -i Easy stuff. He wouldn't have made it in Princeton though. Not when he made stupid decisions like calling someone's girlfriend a whore right in front of them. James was an idiot. They would have kicked him out on the grounds of a waste of space.
Yes, James was just one big gelatinous ball of useless and it took him this long to realize it.
Blood flew everywhere from the gaping hole in his neck. Like someone plunging a hammer to a watermelon. Hayley was splattered with the debris.
His mind plunged into dark, negative thoughts. Mother Mulzet, age 6, sending her boy to school, glad to see him going. Winnie, sobbing, stuck up above, helplessly scared and refusing any help. Kyle, face encased in rage, lunging towards him, hate in his eyes. James, looking in the mirror, about to head on his one last trip with Thea.
Thea. Thea Thea Thea. His whole body fought on the subject Thea Kairos. Thea hand lightly brushing against Ricky, smiling to herself. The tennis ball was thrown up into the air. The server started. Isn't that just great? James was an idiot. James used to identify with Thea so much. He fooled himself into believing in her. So guess what? She's probably fucking Ricky now. She's probably forgotten all about James. That's what he got for caring. The ball hit the other court. The receiver retaliated. No. Thea was genuine. She never lied. When she said those three oh-so-overused words she meant every syllable. He could remember how the rest of the cheerleaders picked on the other kids, the ones who were more normal than James. James never went home in tears. Was that Thea's doing? Maybe she loved him longer than he ever did for her, and for that he should be thankful. If Thea really did keep James safe then that was the ultimate proof of her feelings. James would be smiling like a madman if he weren't... yeah...
His neck surged forward.
He didn't stop there. He had little time, and there were so many people that James found himself worrying about.
He let go of the gun,
Jason Clarke. James never liked Jason but... Jason wasn't a bad guy. James hoped he'd be alright despite his own personal feelings.
Hayley Kelly. James hated her ever since ninth grade. He had crossed a line though. He wished he could apologize to Hayley. James wished she had been with Kyle so he could have apologized when the word "whore" left his lips. Perhaps he'd still have a chance.
Ema Ryan. James felt regretful for pointing the gun at her first. She looked absolutely terrified. Was James being a loon or something?
Kyle... James didn't know his last name. He doubted Kyle would accept any apology James could offer. So he left it at that.
Raine Schwarz. Poor girl. James didn't think she would survive. It was heartbreaking, even more so when he remembered that the last time she had seen her she had been bawling. And James had just pushed her away. James felt like a monster.
Ricky Fortino. James felt bad for thinking the guy was trying to steal his girlfriend away. Maybe he wasn't so bad.
Winnie Clark. James hesitated. Now was the time to be open. There would be no other time for him to be honest. James didn't hold back. He felt something for Winnie. Not with the passion of a thousand suns and most definitely not in the way he felt for Thea. It was a feeling all the same, one that he couldn't come up with a rational explanation for. James was a boy, he liked girls. Winnie was cute, quiet, stubborn. Was it wrong to feel something for another girl and yet never act on it? He couldn't be committing any form of adultery if you simply felt sorry for a girl. Pity love? Was that the term? James pity loved Winnie. He wished he could have spent more time with her so he'd know for sure.
and then,
And James felt his mind slowly move to the rest of the kids on this trip, both alive and dead. The fates of all the kids, the ones he didn't know, the ones he did not like, made him want to cringe. What would happen? His mind spun. He felt ready to vomit. Fuck. Had he vomited already? It was hard to tell. Now he was lost, unsure of what had actually happened and what was just a figment of his imagination. What had happened to him? Could someone please tell James what just happened?
James didn't wait for a response. He didn't need to. He already knew.
his eyes rolled up.
In the end James Mulzet stopped worrying about his situation. It was all over. Just take a deep breath and let the numb take over you James.
Yet there was so much James wanted to worry about and that there was still work to be done. He had to be the hero.
And then it hit James like a brick to the face that now,
in the blinding darkness of his soul,
his cocoon of lost potential,
nothing really mattered.
Not a damn thing.
Nothin
g mat
ters
no
w
.
And James Mulzet hoped that the others would be able to find solace in their own mental prisons. Just as he did in his final hour.
He joined the 51 other guests by the warm fire in the manor
And 224 lost souls were left to freeze to death outside.
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Ciel. 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.
-
Hollyquin†
- Posts: 332
- Joined: Sat Sep 01, 2018 5:24 am
So now that was done, now another boy was dead, now Hayley Kelly had sunk her curved blade into a second neck, felt a second blood spray, a second head lay on the floor, a second red red body had fallen prone in front of her, a second kill would be attributed to her name in the Survival of the Fittest recordbooks.
The main difference this time was that Hayley really didn't give a fuck.
He deserved it.
It was only after the fact that she was able to realize the corpse belonged (Used to belong? Fuck, how does possession work when you're dead? There's laws about that shit...) to one James Mulzet, a boy she had never, ever liked. Of course, being someone that annoyed Hayley Kelly was not grounds for death- if it was most of the world would be condemned- and she wouldn't have damned anyone she hated on sight. Not even- she groaned as she realized she must be on this island somewhere- fucking Annaliese Hansen. Nope, Hayley wasn't out for revenge- what fucking teenage sin was worth killing someone over?
Of course, pointing a gun at someone's boyfriend and ex-girlfriend best friend is not a typical teenage sin. And Hayley would be straight damned if she was gonna get away with that on her fucking watch.
Not to even go INTO how the little fuckhead called me a whore.
Yeah, sucks for you, asshole. Victory for Hayley, mhm, and what, bitches!
She hummed the victory tune from Final Fantasy- in her head, having no desire to make Kyle and Ema think she was crazy or, well, crazier, I guess- and then finally exited her headspace and re-entered the real world.
The first thing she said out loud was something like "Aueughhh."
She was covered in blood. And, like, muscle or some shit. Bone fragments. Ewwwwh... Last time she was too weak to properly comprehend how gross this all was. Hayley wasn't squeamish, not in the least, and she didn't feel like vomiting (this time, anyway), but this is so fucking...ergh...Fuck you, James Mulzet, for making my life gross from beyond the damn grave. I JUST washed. Like, yesterday. Well. Good think I'm already like practically naked, otherwise I'd just be wasting more fucking clothes...
She almost laughed. So I'm mostly naked and covered in blood. This is, like, some snuff film shit right here.
Cautiously, trying not to show any signs of weakness while simultaneously trying to not to touch the corpse more than was absolutely necessary, Hayley bent down to remove the boy's daypack from his person- not quite managing to disguise her revulsion enough to avoid cringing as the body bent in a not-attainable-in-life position. She retrieved the water bottles from the daypack and unhesitatingly poured them on herself, one after the other, a bullshit shower for bullshit times. Since the blood was fresh, she managed to make herself something-close-to-clean.
"What is it with you and heads?"
Hayley looked up at Kyle and Ema for the first time, blinking innocently. I must look like a fucking psycho right now. An adorable psycho though. But like, they've gotta understand, right? They'd probably be dead right now if it wasn't for me. And indeed, neither of them looked angry with her. Ema looked sick, in fact it appeared she'd just thrown up- poor girl...not that I can blame her -and Kyle looked...angry, but somehow not at her. He was nearly as blood-splatted as she was. Why is that? Why him and not her? Weird.
"Well. Stick with what works, right?" She laughed weakly. "I wasn't really thinking about it. It just...I had to do something. Quickly enough that he wouldn't have a chance to shoot me. Or you. Logic, right?"
Her voice was so dang calm it was freaking her out a little.
"Now there's gonna be an even bigger target on my back but hell if I don't have a good excuse this time. Not like Danya's gonna make it sound that way but still."
But still, I'm not playing. Right?
She was almost surprised that her inner voice had no response to that.
Hayley then finally finally FINALLY turned her attention to a matter of much importance to her. To the gun that had dropped out of the now dead body's (she refused to think James's, refused to even chance feelings of guilt) hand. It hadn't traveled at all, really. It was a little bloody, but she hardly thought that mattered.
A gun a gun a gun I have a gun. Holy shitting fuck. It's so...pretty. Who thinks of guns as pretty? Damn, I really am insane. But oh well, fuck it, I HAVE A FUCKING GUN.
She put her sword down for the moment- somehow it was so much easier than last time- carefully picked it up- accidentally shooting herself right now would ruin her fucking day so hard- and admired it for a second. She realized after a moment that she had no idea if the safety was on or what- she'd never held a handgun before, after all- and, keeping her hand tight around the gun's grip, searched through dead-boy's bag with her other hand, locating the manual. She skipped straight to the word 'safety' and, comparing the gun she held to the diagrams, discovered that the safety was off. Her heart skipped a beat as she once again realized exactly how close they had all been to death, but she flipped it off for now. Reaching back into the boy's bag she found two things that could only be clips, magazines, whatever the hell you wanted to call them. She put those in her bag along with the manual, figuring she could read it on the walk back to the groundskeeper's hut.
Armed and dangerous.
Hayley's eyes flicked back to the body for a moment. So much red red blood. Gross. Centered around- huh. That was weird. There was blood still leaking steadily from where dead-boy's head had once been, but there was a spot in the middle, too, another spot where the bloodstains seemed to center themselves. Another wound? From-
Flashback.
In the heat of the moment a girl can't be expected to notice every damn thing.
Step by step. Step, step, step, forward, forward. Pathetic, stuttered sounds from a dead boy's mouth.
Step, step.
Silent as an undug grave.
More words. Words from a dead boy's-
No, not a dead boy's, words from the living.
"YOU SHUT YOUR FUCKING MOUTH!"
That was Kyle. She knew that voice so well but she never knew it to lose its temper that way, to scream, to be so full of such anger that surely it would rip something in two. Someone. Someone?
Step, step.
A shape moved with her. Forward. Perfectly synchronized, not that either knew it at the time. Dead-boy was meat in a fuckin' death sandwich. Om nom nom.
Somehow, it felt good. She wasn't a bad person.
Or at least if she was, she wasn't alone.
Hayley looked up at Kyle and realized for the first time that he was holding a knife. It was bloody.
What do I say? What's the right response to your boyfriend trying to preserve your honor by stabbing the shit out of someone? Like, normally I'm pretty sure that's uncool, but this is Survival of the Fucking Fittest. And said shit-stabbed-out-dead-boy was kind of pointing a gun at him.
"Thanks," she said with a small smile. She retrieved her sword from the ground. It was bloody now too, obviously, but whatever. We have water, they're cleanable.
"We should probably get going, though. Someone else could've heard the gunshot. And besides, we're supposed to be meeting the others, right?"
After a moment of thought she approached Ema.
"And you should take this."
She proffered the sword. Some part of her was possessive towards the thing but hell, it's not like I named it or anything. And I've got a gun and she doesn't have anything as far as I can tell.
"I don't think I'm gonna need it anymore."
The main difference this time was that Hayley really didn't give a fuck.
He deserved it.
It was only after the fact that she was able to realize the corpse belonged (Used to belong? Fuck, how does possession work when you're dead? There's laws about that shit...) to one James Mulzet, a boy she had never, ever liked. Of course, being someone that annoyed Hayley Kelly was not grounds for death- if it was most of the world would be condemned- and she wouldn't have damned anyone she hated on sight. Not even- she groaned as she realized she must be on this island somewhere- fucking Annaliese Hansen. Nope, Hayley wasn't out for revenge- what fucking teenage sin was worth killing someone over?
Of course, pointing a gun at someone's boyfriend and ex-girlfriend best friend is not a typical teenage sin. And Hayley would be straight damned if she was gonna get away with that on her fucking watch.
Not to even go INTO how the little fuckhead called me a whore.
Yeah, sucks for you, asshole. Victory for Hayley, mhm, and what, bitches!
She hummed the victory tune from Final Fantasy- in her head, having no desire to make Kyle and Ema think she was crazy or, well, crazier, I guess- and then finally exited her headspace and re-entered the real world.
The first thing she said out loud was something like "Aueughhh."
She was covered in blood. And, like, muscle or some shit. Bone fragments. Ewwwwh... Last time she was too weak to properly comprehend how gross this all was. Hayley wasn't squeamish, not in the least, and she didn't feel like vomiting (this time, anyway), but this is so fucking...ergh...Fuck you, James Mulzet, for making my life gross from beyond the damn grave. I JUST washed. Like, yesterday. Well. Good think I'm already like practically naked, otherwise I'd just be wasting more fucking clothes...
She almost laughed. So I'm mostly naked and covered in blood. This is, like, some snuff film shit right here.
Cautiously, trying not to show any signs of weakness while simultaneously trying to not to touch the corpse more than was absolutely necessary, Hayley bent down to remove the boy's daypack from his person- not quite managing to disguise her revulsion enough to avoid cringing as the body bent in a not-attainable-in-life position. She retrieved the water bottles from the daypack and unhesitatingly poured them on herself, one after the other, a bullshit shower for bullshit times. Since the blood was fresh, she managed to make herself something-close-to-clean.
"What is it with you and heads?"
Hayley looked up at Kyle and Ema for the first time, blinking innocently. I must look like a fucking psycho right now. An adorable psycho though. But like, they've gotta understand, right? They'd probably be dead right now if it wasn't for me. And indeed, neither of them looked angry with her. Ema looked sick, in fact it appeared she'd just thrown up- poor girl...not that I can blame her -and Kyle looked...angry, but somehow not at her. He was nearly as blood-splatted as she was. Why is that? Why him and not her? Weird.
"Well. Stick with what works, right?" She laughed weakly. "I wasn't really thinking about it. It just...I had to do something. Quickly enough that he wouldn't have a chance to shoot me. Or you. Logic, right?"
Her voice was so dang calm it was freaking her out a little.
"Now there's gonna be an even bigger target on my back but hell if I don't have a good excuse this time. Not like Danya's gonna make it sound that way but still."
But still, I'm not playing. Right?
She was almost surprised that her inner voice had no response to that.
Hayley then finally finally FINALLY turned her attention to a matter of much importance to her. To the gun that had dropped out of the now dead body's (she refused to think James's, refused to even chance feelings of guilt) hand. It hadn't traveled at all, really. It was a little bloody, but she hardly thought that mattered.
A gun a gun a gun I have a gun. Holy shitting fuck. It's so...pretty. Who thinks of guns as pretty? Damn, I really am insane. But oh well, fuck it, I HAVE A FUCKING GUN.
She put her sword down for the moment- somehow it was so much easier than last time- carefully picked it up- accidentally shooting herself right now would ruin her fucking day so hard- and admired it for a second. She realized after a moment that she had no idea if the safety was on or what- she'd never held a handgun before, after all- and, keeping her hand tight around the gun's grip, searched through dead-boy's bag with her other hand, locating the manual. She skipped straight to the word 'safety' and, comparing the gun she held to the diagrams, discovered that the safety was off. Her heart skipped a beat as she once again realized exactly how close they had all been to death, but she flipped it off for now. Reaching back into the boy's bag she found two things that could only be clips, magazines, whatever the hell you wanted to call them. She put those in her bag along with the manual, figuring she could read it on the walk back to the groundskeeper's hut.
Armed and dangerous.
Hayley's eyes flicked back to the body for a moment. So much red red blood. Gross. Centered around- huh. That was weird. There was blood still leaking steadily from where dead-boy's head had once been, but there was a spot in the middle, too, another spot where the bloodstains seemed to center themselves. Another wound? From-
Flashback.
In the heat of the moment a girl can't be expected to notice every damn thing.
Step by step. Step, step, step, forward, forward. Pathetic, stuttered sounds from a dead boy's mouth.
Step, step.
Silent as an undug grave.
More words. Words from a dead boy's-
No, not a dead boy's, words from the living.
"YOU SHUT YOUR FUCKING MOUTH!"
That was Kyle. She knew that voice so well but she never knew it to lose its temper that way, to scream, to be so full of such anger that surely it would rip something in two. Someone. Someone?
Step, step.
A shape moved with her. Forward. Perfectly synchronized, not that either knew it at the time. Dead-boy was meat in a fuckin' death sandwich. Om nom nom.
Somehow, it felt good. She wasn't a bad person.
Or at least if she was, she wasn't alone.
Hayley looked up at Kyle and realized for the first time that he was holding a knife. It was bloody.
What do I say? What's the right response to your boyfriend trying to preserve your honor by stabbing the shit out of someone? Like, normally I'm pretty sure that's uncool, but this is Survival of the Fucking Fittest. And said shit-stabbed-out-dead-boy was kind of pointing a gun at him.
"Thanks," she said with a small smile. She retrieved her sword from the ground. It was bloody now too, obviously, but whatever. We have water, they're cleanable.
"We should probably get going, though. Someone else could've heard the gunshot. And besides, we're supposed to be meeting the others, right?"
After a moment of thought she approached Ema.
"And you should take this."
She proffered the sword. Some part of her was possessive towards the thing but hell, it's not like I named it or anything. And I've got a gun and she doesn't have anything as far as I can tell.
"I don't think I'm gonna need it anymore."
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Hollyquin. 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.
-
armeggedonCounselor†
- Posts: 190
- Joined: Sat Sep 01, 2018 5:24 am
Just as quickly as it had begun, the attack was finished. The knife in Kyle's hand sunk easily into the boy's stomach muscles, sliced the lining of his stomach and, as the boy slumped sideways due to being dead, sliced through more flesh with nearly no resistance as it slid free. Kyle was drenched in blood, even more so that Hayley. She had mostly gotten it at head height, only a little going much lower than that. Not only had the primary spray from the neck wound been more in Kyle's direction, but his hand and lower arm were drenched in blood from the boy's knife wound. The color transfixed Kyle for a moment as he stared at his knife. It's brown color was complimented nicely by the dark red. Laced with a brighter red, actually. Kyle had learned in Anatomy that blood from different veins or arteries was different colors, but he had never had experience in that. Apparently the stabbing had sliced through both types of blood movers.
Hayley was already going through the dead boy's day pack, when Ema asked a weak question from behind Kyle. He didn't turn his head to look at her, although he did sort of snort in a half-laugh. Hayley offered an explanation- it was slightly terrifying to Kyle exactly how calm her voice was. Someone who had just... beheaded someone should not be able to be so calm.
'You just cold stabbed a guy, for something people had been saying for the length of your relationship. You're also calm and rational. Why does Hayley's calmness terrify you?
SHUT UP, RATIONAL VOICE.'
She inspected the gun and turned the safety on. Kyle felt a cold shiver. If that boy had been a little less panicked, or a little more, he would be trying to breathe with a nice hole in his lung. Thank God for panic, for people who couldn't react to a shifting situation.
Hayley had just noticed the blood on Kyle's knife. It seemed the sequence of events had happened too quickly for her to register it right away. She looked up at him.
"Thanks."
Thanks? For what? For joining her in the kill ('It's fun times for the whole family.')? For defending her honor? Kyle had just watched Hayley turn that safety on. He had been moments away from death. He took a breath, took his glasses off, and smiled at Hayley.
"He shouldn't have said that."
Simple- not as witty as he would have liked, but everything witty implied a next time. Nor was it what he really felt, which was something like panic. He was covered in blood, and every fiber of his being was freaking out. Between no sleep, OCD and general panic, his emotional state was New Jersey.
Nobody likes New Jersey.
Hayley gave her sword to Ema. It was an interesting gesture. Perhaps it signified the change from Hayley who was afraid of killing, who couldn't kill without that debilitating collapse, to....
Whatever. She had a point- they needed to get out of here. But....
"Can we wash up a little bit before we leave? I feel sullied and unusual."
Hayley was already going through the dead boy's day pack, when Ema asked a weak question from behind Kyle. He didn't turn his head to look at her, although he did sort of snort in a half-laugh. Hayley offered an explanation- it was slightly terrifying to Kyle exactly how calm her voice was. Someone who had just... beheaded someone should not be able to be so calm.
'You just cold stabbed a guy, for something people had been saying for the length of your relationship. You're also calm and rational. Why does Hayley's calmness terrify you?
SHUT UP, RATIONAL VOICE.'
She inspected the gun and turned the safety on. Kyle felt a cold shiver. If that boy had been a little less panicked, or a little more, he would be trying to breathe with a nice hole in his lung. Thank God for panic, for people who couldn't react to a shifting situation.
Hayley had just noticed the blood on Kyle's knife. It seemed the sequence of events had happened too quickly for her to register it right away. She looked up at him.
"Thanks."
Thanks? For what? For joining her in the kill ('It's fun times for the whole family.')? For defending her honor? Kyle had just watched Hayley turn that safety on. He had been moments away from death. He took a breath, took his glasses off, and smiled at Hayley.
"He shouldn't have said that."
Simple- not as witty as he would have liked, but everything witty implied a next time. Nor was it what he really felt, which was something like panic. He was covered in blood, and every fiber of his being was freaking out. Between no sleep, OCD and general panic, his emotional state was New Jersey.
Nobody likes New Jersey.
Hayley gave her sword to Ema. It was an interesting gesture. Perhaps it signified the change from Hayley who was afraid of killing, who couldn't kill without that debilitating collapse, to....
Whatever. She had a point- they needed to get out of here. But....
"Can we wash up a little bit before we leave? I feel sullied and unusual."
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler armeggedonCounselor. 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.
Ema was still doubled over when she recieved her reply, a rather shaken attempt at black humour. Stick with what works... it did make sense, to be honest. If it had worked before in a mad panic, surely it would be even more effective with a steady hand and strong motivation, logic indeed. But the cold logic behind it wasn't comforting, quite the opposite. Had Hayley really gotten used to this sort of thing after just two kills?
Just two? That was probably worse, that Ema could consider murdering two schoolchildren as "just two". She didn't even know who they were. The first had been Steve... something. The latest, she had no idea, and doubted they'd even met before. They were just two faceless statistics that had been obstacles in Hayley's way to surviving so far. Without even doing the deed herself, only seeing it once, Ema was already making excuses, justifying the violent deaths of two people, barely even adults, and it hadn't even been her that killed them.
"What the hell's wrong with me?"
"It was necessary, you'd do the same."
"No... I wouldn't... I'm not a killer..."
"You will be."
Shaking her head - which only managed to make her feel more ill - Ema desperately tried to silence the voice in her head. She refused to believe she was capable of killing people. She didn't want to now, and she never would. Survival is only an excuse if there's no other way, and even then, she'd be more likely to just run away.
"You're a coward. They're trying to help you, but you can't even help yourself."
"Shut up, I'm..."
"Strong? Give it up. You're weak and useless, and you don't deserve their protection.
"I can look after myself! I'm not weak, and I don't care what you.. I.. tell myself!"
"And you should take this."
Huh? In all her self-depreciative introspection, Ema had completely lost track of what was going on outside of her own head. Hayley had washed away most of the blood with James' water, and had already appropriated his gun. Not even thinking to point out that she could wash in the ocean again and keep the drinkable water, the redhead simply straightened up, and accepted the weapon with a rather faraway look to her eyes. She was still feeling rather light headed, and barely recognised just what it was, for the moment.
"I don't think I'm gonna need it anymore."
"Um, thanks.. I..." Ema began, tailing off as she realised what she was being given. She had no idea what to say. What do you say to someone that's just offered you the sword they used to behead someone right in front of you? Not much, apparently.
"See? You can't even have a conversation with a friend. You're a liability, just make it easy and kill yourself now."
No. Not those thoughts again. She wasn't ready to die, and she certainly wasn't about to off herself and make it that much easier for... who? Everyone else? Pretty selfish, but self-preservation justifies the means. She didn't want to make it easy on everyone else, she wanted to live.
"More like it. And now you have a sword to do that with."
"So I can fi-- defend, defend myself. And Hayley... and Kyle."
"There can't be three winners, stupid."
"I'll work that out later..."
"Atta girl."
So now she was armed. Ema had something she could fight with. As to how useful it would be in her hands, that was anyone's guess. She herself was content to dwell on the armed part. She had a fighting chance now. She didn't plan on wasting it.
"Can we wash up a little bit before we leave? I feel sullied and unusual."
Good point. There was still vomit clinging to Ema's hair and chin, and quite obviously, both Kyle and Hayley were still fairly bloodied. Cleaning themselves off would be a great idea.
"Yeah, good idea..."
She still sounded weak. Her voice hadn't settled yet, her throat still sore. But it belied something stronger underneath.
"Earn your happy ending."
"I'm not dead weight, and I won't waste this sword."
"Damn right you won't."
Falcata still in hand, she trudged down the sand towards the ocean to wash her face and hair, to rinse out two days and one morning's worth of grime. Her grip on the hilt was vicelike, whitening her knuckles. It symbolised her fighting chance, and she clung to it for dear life.
And attempted to steel herself for dealing grim death.
Just two? That was probably worse, that Ema could consider murdering two schoolchildren as "just two". She didn't even know who they were. The first had been Steve... something. The latest, she had no idea, and doubted they'd even met before. They were just two faceless statistics that had been obstacles in Hayley's way to surviving so far. Without even doing the deed herself, only seeing it once, Ema was already making excuses, justifying the violent deaths of two people, barely even adults, and it hadn't even been her that killed them.
"What the hell's wrong with me?"
"It was necessary, you'd do the same."
"No... I wouldn't... I'm not a killer..."
"You will be."
Shaking her head - which only managed to make her feel more ill - Ema desperately tried to silence the voice in her head. She refused to believe she was capable of killing people. She didn't want to now, and she never would. Survival is only an excuse if there's no other way, and even then, she'd be more likely to just run away.
"You're a coward. They're trying to help you, but you can't even help yourself."
"Shut up, I'm..."
"Strong? Give it up. You're weak and useless, and you don't deserve their protection.
"I can look after myself! I'm not weak, and I don't care what you.. I.. tell myself!"
"And you should take this."
Huh? In all her self-depreciative introspection, Ema had completely lost track of what was going on outside of her own head. Hayley had washed away most of the blood with James' water, and had already appropriated his gun. Not even thinking to point out that she could wash in the ocean again and keep the drinkable water, the redhead simply straightened up, and accepted the weapon with a rather faraway look to her eyes. She was still feeling rather light headed, and barely recognised just what it was, for the moment.
"I don't think I'm gonna need it anymore."
"Um, thanks.. I..." Ema began, tailing off as she realised what she was being given. She had no idea what to say. What do you say to someone that's just offered you the sword they used to behead someone right in front of you? Not much, apparently.
"See? You can't even have a conversation with a friend. You're a liability, just make it easy and kill yourself now."
No. Not those thoughts again. She wasn't ready to die, and she certainly wasn't about to off herself and make it that much easier for... who? Everyone else? Pretty selfish, but self-preservation justifies the means. She didn't want to make it easy on everyone else, she wanted to live.
"More like it. And now you have a sword to do that with."
"So I can fi-- defend, defend myself. And Hayley... and Kyle."
"There can't be three winners, stupid."
"I'll work that out later..."
"Atta girl."
So now she was armed. Ema had something she could fight with. As to how useful it would be in her hands, that was anyone's guess. She herself was content to dwell on the armed part. She had a fighting chance now. She didn't plan on wasting it.
"Can we wash up a little bit before we leave? I feel sullied and unusual."
Good point. There was still vomit clinging to Ema's hair and chin, and quite obviously, both Kyle and Hayley were still fairly bloodied. Cleaning themselves off would be a great idea.
"Yeah, good idea..."
She still sounded weak. Her voice hadn't settled yet, her throat still sore. But it belied something stronger underneath.
"Earn your happy ending."
"I'm not dead weight, and I won't waste this sword."
"Damn right you won't."
Falcata still in hand, she trudged down the sand towards the ocean to wash her face and hair, to rinse out two days and one morning's worth of grime. Her grip on the hilt was vicelike, whitening her knuckles. It symbolised her fighting chance, and she clung to it for dear life.
And attempted to steel herself for dealing grim death.
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Chib. 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.
-
Hollyquin†
- Posts: 332
- Joined: Sat Sep 01, 2018 5:24 am
"Can we wash up a little bit before we leave? I feel sullied and unusual."
Yeah, that made sense. Why had she just poured all this water on herself when the fucking ocean was right there? Hayley had felt weirdly like everyone involved was going to want to go, leave, now. Maybe it was just her who didn't want to be here anymore. The more she stood here the more she had to look at Jamdead-boy's body and the more she had to worry about her own sanity. But yeah, there was no harm in staying for a while more, right? Wash off a bit more. Ema wasn't bloody, but she was a little...urgh, not clean regardless, and Kyle was just a mess. So, washing. Cleaning. Staying a little longer. Giving Hayley time to think.
Yay, thinking. Just what I want to be doing right now.
She nodded in agreement after handing the falcata off to Ema, following the two, slowly, behind them, stopping for a moment to pick through her bag for a cigarette. She lit it.
Inhale.
Exhale.
She also found her flask and, in a moment of weakness and probably not-smart-ness, took a swig.
Oh, sweet, sweet vodka, my dear friend, I love you so.
The warming sensation traveled down her throat and suddenly, magically, everything was a little bit less awful. Now, not even Hayley Kelly, lightweight extraordinare, could get drunk off of one gulp of vodka, but the combination of her still mostly empty stomach, the cigarette, and, most of all, the sheer comfort the taste gave her, the sense memory of parties and friends and sex, all of that was enough to make Hayley feel better for a few glorious seconds.
And just as quickly, the feeling was gone.
Her throat and her stomach still felt warm, though, as she walked down to the water with the cigarette still in her mouth. Inhale. Exhale. She let the water run over her bare feet. She stood her ground. She realized she was still holding the gun, still wearing her bag, and backtracked a bit, placing the first in the latter and leaving both in the sand.
Walk forward, again. Step step. Inhale, exhale.
...What's wrong with me?
That was definitely the question of the hour.
So. I killed some kid yesterday. Steve, his name was, Steve something? Whatever. Doesn't matter. See LOOK that's PART of it even, I can't even be fucked to remember the kid's fucking NAME, that's so wrong. But I felt all bad about that and it happened cause I bugged out or whatever and whatever that might have been a mistake but that was like a thousand years ago in Survival of the Fittest-time so whatever to that. But then came Jame dead-b dammit, JAMES, James fucking MULZET, and like, that made sense, right, I was the Dread Pirate Mother Fucking Roberts, rescuing my damsel in distress and shit, that made sense! Anyone would do that, anyone with the license to kill, fuck, no, it's not permission, it's fucking ENCOURAGEMENT to kill would use it to keep their friends alive, right? So it makes sense I can't feel bad about it, I was just trying to protect them, ANY-fucking-one who isn't a complete pussy would do it, right?
She was rambling. Internally, even. Keep the self loathing at bay. Stra-te-ra-gy. Reality show strategy. Inhale. Exhale.
But then why am I freaking out? Why does the fact that my voice doesn't crack anymore make me feel nervous? Why do I feel like I SHOULD feel so much fucking WORSE for all this shit? I can't even feel bad about that Steve kid anymore, sure maybe it was a mistake and I was freaking out over nothing but it's in the past now and what the fuck am I supposed to do about it now, really, right, and I'm not a bad person, I'm not, I'm not.
So what do I need this gun for? To protect me and them. Why not the sword? Other people have guns, I need one too. Am I gonna kill more people?
That voice was no longer distinguishable. Her voice, herself, was one big internal conflict. There was no good or evil, there was only a lot of really sucky cranial drama. Inhale. Exhale.
Probably. Should I feel bad about it? Is that the right thing to do, feel really damn guilty all the time? Cause I'd get sick of THAT real quick.
Inhale.
Exhale.
Hayley flicked the cigarette butt in the water. The morning air was so quiet she could hear it fizzle out.
She moved slowly into deeper water.
She turned her mind off. It was so much easier that way.
Yeah, that made sense. Why had she just poured all this water on herself when the fucking ocean was right there? Hayley had felt weirdly like everyone involved was going to want to go, leave, now. Maybe it was just her who didn't want to be here anymore. The more she stood here the more she had to look at Jamdead-boy's body and the more she had to worry about her own sanity. But yeah, there was no harm in staying for a while more, right? Wash off a bit more. Ema wasn't bloody, but she was a little...urgh, not clean regardless, and Kyle was just a mess. So, washing. Cleaning. Staying a little longer. Giving Hayley time to think.
Yay, thinking. Just what I want to be doing right now.
She nodded in agreement after handing the falcata off to Ema, following the two, slowly, behind them, stopping for a moment to pick through her bag for a cigarette. She lit it.
Inhale.
Exhale.
She also found her flask and, in a moment of weakness and probably not-smart-ness, took a swig.
Oh, sweet, sweet vodka, my dear friend, I love you so.
The warming sensation traveled down her throat and suddenly, magically, everything was a little bit less awful. Now, not even Hayley Kelly, lightweight extraordinare, could get drunk off of one gulp of vodka, but the combination of her still mostly empty stomach, the cigarette, and, most of all, the sheer comfort the taste gave her, the sense memory of parties and friends and sex, all of that was enough to make Hayley feel better for a few glorious seconds.
And just as quickly, the feeling was gone.
Her throat and her stomach still felt warm, though, as she walked down to the water with the cigarette still in her mouth. Inhale. Exhale. She let the water run over her bare feet. She stood her ground. She realized she was still holding the gun, still wearing her bag, and backtracked a bit, placing the first in the latter and leaving both in the sand.
Walk forward, again. Step step. Inhale, exhale.
...What's wrong with me?
That was definitely the question of the hour.
So. I killed some kid yesterday. Steve, his name was, Steve something? Whatever. Doesn't matter. See LOOK that's PART of it even, I can't even be fucked to remember the kid's fucking NAME, that's so wrong. But I felt all bad about that and it happened cause I bugged out or whatever and whatever that might have been a mistake but that was like a thousand years ago in Survival of the Fittest-time so whatever to that. But then came Jame dead-b dammit, JAMES, James fucking MULZET, and like, that made sense, right, I was the Dread Pirate Mother Fucking Roberts, rescuing my damsel in distress and shit, that made sense! Anyone would do that, anyone with the license to kill, fuck, no, it's not permission, it's fucking ENCOURAGEMENT to kill would use it to keep their friends alive, right? So it makes sense I can't feel bad about it, I was just trying to protect them, ANY-fucking-one who isn't a complete pussy would do it, right?
She was rambling. Internally, even. Keep the self loathing at bay. Stra-te-ra-gy. Reality show strategy. Inhale. Exhale.
But then why am I freaking out? Why does the fact that my voice doesn't crack anymore make me feel nervous? Why do I feel like I SHOULD feel so much fucking WORSE for all this shit? I can't even feel bad about that Steve kid anymore, sure maybe it was a mistake and I was freaking out over nothing but it's in the past now and what the fuck am I supposed to do about it now, really, right, and I'm not a bad person, I'm not, I'm not.
So what do I need this gun for? To protect me and them. Why not the sword? Other people have guns, I need one too. Am I gonna kill more people?
That voice was no longer distinguishable. Her voice, herself, was one big internal conflict. There was no good or evil, there was only a lot of really sucky cranial drama. Inhale. Exhale.
Probably. Should I feel bad about it? Is that the right thing to do, feel really damn guilty all the time? Cause I'd get sick of THAT real quick.
Inhale.
Exhale.
Hayley flicked the cigarette butt in the water. The morning air was so quiet she could hear it fizzle out.
She moved slowly into deeper water.
She turned her mind off. It was so much easier that way.
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Hollyquin. 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.
-
armeggedonCounselor†
- Posts: 190
- Joined: Sat Sep 01, 2018 5:24 am
Hayley nodded her agreement to the washing up plan. It took Kyle a lot of control not to charge down the shore and dive into the water. He took his shirt off first, and wiped his knife clean. Cleaning his shirt in salt water would leave it stiff, but it would be better than having it be coated in blood. He slowly walked down, keeping his eyes on Hayley's back. Concentrating on the retention of his calmness, despite how much he wanted to scrub his hands with sand until they bled. It reminded him of Macbeth- Out, out, damn spot. Of course, Macbeth was flipping out because he had just cold murdered his king. Kyle was flipping out because of his OCD- blood always made him flip out, even when it was his own.
It was strange though- Kyle did feel a little guilt for killing James, even though his attack was almost entirely superfluous after Hayley's decapitating strike. It was probably how he had lost his temper- he never lost his temper. It was something he prided himself on: being able to look in the face of people who tried to get him to attack them and just walk away.
And then this happened.
Kyle put it out of his mind, as the ocean was already lapping at his feet. He walked in until the water reached his waist, dipped his shirt into the water and began to wash the blood out. Methodical, slow. Let the metaphoric cleaning take place on his soul, too. He ducked down, washed his face, scrubbed hard. Air. Stand up, breathe. Down, scrub. Up, breathe. Repeat, repeat. Allow the compulsions room to breathe, room to act. Three times washed, three times clean.
It was strange though- Kyle did feel a little guilt for killing James, even though his attack was almost entirely superfluous after Hayley's decapitating strike. It was probably how he had lost his temper- he never lost his temper. It was something he prided himself on: being able to look in the face of people who tried to get him to attack them and just walk away.
And then this happened.
Kyle put it out of his mind, as the ocean was already lapping at his feet. He walked in until the water reached his waist, dipped his shirt into the water and began to wash the blood out. Methodical, slow. Let the metaphoric cleaning take place on his soul, too. He ducked down, washed his face, scrubbed hard. Air. Stand up, breathe. Down, scrub. Up, breathe. Repeat, repeat. Allow the compulsions room to breathe, room to act. Three times washed, three times clean.
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler armeggedonCounselor. 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.
It shouldn't have taken Ema long to wash her face, but since her right hand refused to loosen it's grip on her new sword, kneeling at the edge of the water and doing everything with her left hand took a fair bit longer. Though, with Hayley and Kyle washing blood from their entire bodies, the added time was insignificant, and she easily had time to clean her face and rinse the sweat and grime from her hair as well.
As her two companions continued, Ema backpedalled a few steps, and - still clinging tightly to that falcata - cast her arms up into the air in a great stretch, coupled with a rather loud yawn. Adrenaline and fear had subsided, and Ema's desire to go back to bed had returned; she really wasn't a morning person. Then again, she didn't even know what time it was, her phone and iPod were her only means of timekeeping before the abduction, and both were missing when she awoke, clearly to eliminate any possiblity of communication, despite the island being a complete blank for mobile phone signals and WiFi networks.
Standing there, arms still reluctant to fall back into place, Ema lifted her head to look at the sun, estimating the time to be about nine, though she knew full well it could easily be an hour or two either side - her skills at telling time by the sun were barely-existent at best.
Having guessed the time, it suddenly dawned on her that she was almost staring directly at the sun. She'd been standing out in it for quite some time, but now that the mad rush of the morning's death was over, Ema noticed how unpleasant the bright rays were. She let her right arm down, and used her left - the right still stuck to the falcata's hilt in a death-grip - to pull the hood of her jacket up, shielding most of her face from the sunlight.
A few seconds passed in near-total silence. The only unnatural sounds in the air were those of Hayley and Kyle moving in the water. Unsurprisingly, Ema felt awkward. She wasn't good at standing still and waiting, never had been.
Another few seconds passed, and Ema caught herself staring. Not just at Hayley, but Kyle, too. What surprised her was that she wasn't staring in the way an ordinary person would at attractive people frolicing in the ocean... she was simply observing them, almost... studying? Regardless, she pulled her gaze away, realising how it might look, not to mention how it seemed to Ema herself.
The awkward silence held. Ema forced herself to break it. Her daypack was still slung over one shoulder, kept dry earlier by being hooked behind her back. She fished around blindly, still with just her left hand, and produced her map.
"So where do we go from here? Your stuff's at that hut, right?"
As her two companions continued, Ema backpedalled a few steps, and - still clinging tightly to that falcata - cast her arms up into the air in a great stretch, coupled with a rather loud yawn. Adrenaline and fear had subsided, and Ema's desire to go back to bed had returned; she really wasn't a morning person. Then again, she didn't even know what time it was, her phone and iPod were her only means of timekeeping before the abduction, and both were missing when she awoke, clearly to eliminate any possiblity of communication, despite the island being a complete blank for mobile phone signals and WiFi networks.
Standing there, arms still reluctant to fall back into place, Ema lifted her head to look at the sun, estimating the time to be about nine, though she knew full well it could easily be an hour or two either side - her skills at telling time by the sun were barely-existent at best.
Having guessed the time, it suddenly dawned on her that she was almost staring directly at the sun. She'd been standing out in it for quite some time, but now that the mad rush of the morning's death was over, Ema noticed how unpleasant the bright rays were. She let her right arm down, and used her left - the right still stuck to the falcata's hilt in a death-grip - to pull the hood of her jacket up, shielding most of her face from the sunlight.
A few seconds passed in near-total silence. The only unnatural sounds in the air were those of Hayley and Kyle moving in the water. Unsurprisingly, Ema felt awkward. She wasn't good at standing still and waiting, never had been.
Another few seconds passed, and Ema caught herself staring. Not just at Hayley, but Kyle, too. What surprised her was that she wasn't staring in the way an ordinary person would at attractive people frolicing in the ocean... she was simply observing them, almost... studying? Regardless, she pulled her gaze away, realising how it might look, not to mention how it seemed to Ema herself.
The awkward silence held. Ema forced herself to break it. Her daypack was still slung over one shoulder, kept dry earlier by being hooked behind her back. She fished around blindly, still with just her left hand, and produced her map.
"So where do we go from here? Your stuff's at that hut, right?"
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Chib. 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.
-
Hollyquin†
- Posts: 332
- Joined: Sat Sep 01, 2018 5:24 am
[[OOC: Apologies for the short post, but there's not much to say. xD]]
Hayley washed.
It didn't take long. Most of the blood had come off after her impromptu shower-fail. It occurred to her that she'd never washed her hair the night before, and as a result it still had some dried blood in it. Ew. She dunked her head in the water, coming up and flipping her wet hair back in a fashion that would have been sexy had she not also been sputtering from the seawater in her nose.
She suddenly remembered how much she hated the beach.
Ffffffffffffff.
She finished cleaning herself quickly and got out of the water, irritated but sort of glad for the distraction. See? These are the times that try men's souls. Times where saltwater gets in your face. Right? Paine understood me so fucking well. She grabbed her backpack, somehow feeling much better with her gun in her hand. Safer.
Is that abnorNO HAYLEY DON'T START THINKING ABOUT THIS SHIT AGAIN. It's probably abnormal WHATEVER, this is Survival of the Fittest, everything is abnormal, what-the-fuck-ever. God, fuck this game.
Kyle wasn't yet done washing, but Ema was, and she was holding the map. In one hand. Hayley almost laughed, remembering how ridiculously impossible it had been for her to let go of her sword back when it was still hers. She looked at the gun in her hand. Weird how I can put this down. Maybe it's just cause I haven't used it yet? But Ema hasn't either and she can't put it down. Hm. Maybe she's just nervous, that would make some fucking sense. I should name this thing. I...
Vera. Definitely calling it Vera.
She giggled to herself.
Ooh, I should figure out how to do that, like, badass gunslinger shit...
She looked down at her gun and, after deliberating a moment and positioning herself over her bag, attempted to flip it. It hit the ground, or rather her backpack, since she kind of knew she was going to fail miserably and didn't feel like getting fucking sand in her brand new gun-named-Vera.
Well, I fail.
She turned her attention to Ema.
"So where do we go from here? Your stuff's at that hut, right?"
"Yeah, that's where we're supposed to go. Meet up with the others and everything," Hayley said, somewhat distractedly. And go explain to Maddy and Alex what just happened...fun. And get some clothes...I could still go get Kyle's but...I dunno. It's so fucking hot, it's kind of nice walking around all half-naked and wet.
...
...That's what she said.
Hayley washed.
It didn't take long. Most of the blood had come off after her impromptu shower-fail. It occurred to her that she'd never washed her hair the night before, and as a result it still had some dried blood in it. Ew. She dunked her head in the water, coming up and flipping her wet hair back in a fashion that would have been sexy had she not also been sputtering from the seawater in her nose.
She suddenly remembered how much she hated the beach.
Ffffffffffffff.
She finished cleaning herself quickly and got out of the water, irritated but sort of glad for the distraction. See? These are the times that try men's souls. Times where saltwater gets in your face. Right? Paine understood me so fucking well. She grabbed her backpack, somehow feeling much better with her gun in her hand. Safer.
Is that abnorNO HAYLEY DON'T START THINKING ABOUT THIS SHIT AGAIN. It's probably abnormal WHATEVER, this is Survival of the Fittest, everything is abnormal, what-the-fuck-ever. God, fuck this game.
Kyle wasn't yet done washing, but Ema was, and she was holding the map. In one hand. Hayley almost laughed, remembering how ridiculously impossible it had been for her to let go of her sword back when it was still hers. She looked at the gun in her hand. Weird how I can put this down. Maybe it's just cause I haven't used it yet? But Ema hasn't either and she can't put it down. Hm. Maybe she's just nervous, that would make some fucking sense. I should name this thing. I...
Vera. Definitely calling it Vera.
She giggled to herself.
Ooh, I should figure out how to do that, like, badass gunslinger shit...
She looked down at her gun and, after deliberating a moment and positioning herself over her bag, attempted to flip it. It hit the ground, or rather her backpack, since she kind of knew she was going to fail miserably and didn't feel like getting fucking sand in her brand new gun-named-Vera.
Well, I fail.
She turned her attention to Ema.
"So where do we go from here? Your stuff's at that hut, right?"
"Yeah, that's where we're supposed to go. Meet up with the others and everything," Hayley said, somewhat distractedly. And go explain to Maddy and Alex what just happened...fun. And get some clothes...I could still go get Kyle's but...I dunno. It's so fucking hot, it's kind of nice walking around all half-naked and wet.
...
...That's what she said.
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Hollyquin. 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.
-
armeggedonCounselor†
- Posts: 190
- Joined: Sat Sep 01, 2018 5:24 am
Kyle felt clean now. There was a difference (for him, at least) between being clean and feeling clean. During biology, after dissecting fetal pigs, he had felt dirty even though there was no viscera on his hands. It had taken nine washings to stop himself from feeling dirty- three threes. Nine was an important number to Kyle, because of his OCD. It was why September was his favorite month- he rarely felt harried or nauseated during September. He despised June and December because they were two and four threes, respectively. But that was a digression.
Kyle felt clean now. He stood up, brushing his wet hair out of his face. His jeans were soaked, and felt stiff, but he didn't mind. He paced toward the shore, where Hayley was discussing their plans with Ema. Go to the Hut. Meet up with the others. Kyle hoped they got there first, simply because of some things niggling in the back of his mind. Like Hayley's status as a player, and the danger that posed. He was almost certain Hayley had thought of it too. Methodically, Kyle pulled on his soaking shirt, pulling at the bottom three times. He had gotten good at making his triple actions seem natural, seem like the normal nervous reactions people have to things. Touching the ear- he always brushed his hand against his three times.
Kyle felt clean now. And even cleaner. He had noted, and worried over, an increase in the urge to do things in triplicate. His inability to complete his normal daily rituals had not gone unnoticed. Neither had his body failed to notice that he still wasn't truly protecting Hayley. It was strange- she wasn't hurt, but she wasn't... whole either. It seemed like her mind was degrading- not her intelligence, but her sanity. She wasn't acting insane, but there was a remarkable difference from when she had been incapable of... anything complicated after her first kill, to not even caring after her second. To be fair, her second kill had had it coming, but....
It was scary.
Kyle stood on the shore and looked out at sea. He had been having trouble focusing- an artifact of no sleep and thinking about all the dead people.
'This reminds me of a song....'
He turned to look at Hayley and Ema. "Are we ready to go?"
Kyle felt clean now. He stood up, brushing his wet hair out of his face. His jeans were soaked, and felt stiff, but he didn't mind. He paced toward the shore, where Hayley was discussing their plans with Ema. Go to the Hut. Meet up with the others. Kyle hoped they got there first, simply because of some things niggling in the back of his mind. Like Hayley's status as a player, and the danger that posed. He was almost certain Hayley had thought of it too. Methodically, Kyle pulled on his soaking shirt, pulling at the bottom three times. He had gotten good at making his triple actions seem natural, seem like the normal nervous reactions people have to things. Touching the ear- he always brushed his hand against his three times.
Kyle felt clean now. And even cleaner. He had noted, and worried over, an increase in the urge to do things in triplicate. His inability to complete his normal daily rituals had not gone unnoticed. Neither had his body failed to notice that he still wasn't truly protecting Hayley. It was strange- she wasn't hurt, but she wasn't... whole either. It seemed like her mind was degrading- not her intelligence, but her sanity. She wasn't acting insane, but there was a remarkable difference from when she had been incapable of... anything complicated after her first kill, to not even caring after her second. To be fair, her second kill had had it coming, but....
It was scary.
Kyle stood on the shore and looked out at sea. He had been having trouble focusing- an artifact of no sleep and thinking about all the dead people.
'This reminds me of a song....'
He turned to look at Hayley and Ema. "Are we ready to go?"
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler armeggedonCounselor. 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.
(This feels decidedly short, but... I'm not such a fan of 'filler' details, so what the heck.)
"Yeah, that's where we're supposed to go. Meet up with the others and everything,"
"Are we ready to go?"
Kyle seemed rather keen to get moving, and Ema couldn't blame him. Just as much as the killing had set her mind in motion deciding what to do with herself on the island, Ema was still feeling the effects of witnessing death for the first time; a second time for Kyle probably wasn't much easier, especially having taken part as he did.
And so, letting out a slight sigh, the redhead nodded. "As I'll ever be. I was planning to ditch some weight, but makes more sense to do that when we get there." She made her way back over to where the makeshift camp had been, and hefted her backpack onto the shoulder not supporting the daypack, having already forgotten Hayley's offer to carry it for her. Heavy as ever, Ema found herself slouching into the weight on her back, not that poor posture was much of a legitimate worry any more. The weight did, however, remind her of what Hayley had said the night before, in response to... oh yeah, spare clothes. "So, were you going to get dressed, or are you planning to distract enemies with your boobs?"
For some reason, Ema didn't feel nearly as awkward as she ordinarily would, talking like that. She didn't want to dwell on it, though. Not like conversational taboos are the first step on a sliding scale of inhibition-loss, right?
Right?
(Presumably the group'll be leaving, following this, so if either of you would mind saving me the trouble, feel free to GM Ema following.)
"Yeah, that's where we're supposed to go. Meet up with the others and everything,"
"Are we ready to go?"
Kyle seemed rather keen to get moving, and Ema couldn't blame him. Just as much as the killing had set her mind in motion deciding what to do with herself on the island, Ema was still feeling the effects of witnessing death for the first time; a second time for Kyle probably wasn't much easier, especially having taken part as he did.
And so, letting out a slight sigh, the redhead nodded. "As I'll ever be. I was planning to ditch some weight, but makes more sense to do that when we get there." She made her way back over to where the makeshift camp had been, and hefted her backpack onto the shoulder not supporting the daypack, having already forgotten Hayley's offer to carry it for her. Heavy as ever, Ema found herself slouching into the weight on her back, not that poor posture was much of a legitimate worry any more. The weight did, however, remind her of what Hayley had said the night before, in response to... oh yeah, spare clothes. "So, were you going to get dressed, or are you planning to distract enemies with your boobs?"
For some reason, Ema didn't feel nearly as awkward as she ordinarily would, talking like that. She didn't want to dwell on it, though. Not like conversational taboos are the first step on a sliding scale of inhibition-loss, right?
Right?
(Presumably the group'll be leaving, following this, so if either of you would mind saving me the trouble, feel free to GM Ema following.)
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Chib. 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.
-
Hollyquin†
- Posts: 332
- Joined: Sat Sep 01, 2018 5:24 am
[[OOC: Your wish is my command~]]
"As I'll ever be. I was planning to ditch some weight, but makes more sense to do that when we get there."
Hayley was playing with her gun.
What the fuck am I doing?
That was honestly not the question of the moment so much as the question of the island. Less than an hour ago (had it been? she never had any grasp on time, and not having a cell phone or an iPod to tell her the time was seriously fucking with her) she had cut a second boy's head off and now she was playing with his gun.
The main problem was that that wasn't even what was bothering her.
I'm gonna end up turning the safety off and accidentally shooting myself in the damn foot. What did my parents say? Don't play with your food, don't play with mommy's makeup, don't play with deadly weaponry...heh.
She was in a why is the first adjective I think of 'derpy'? That's not even a word... kind of mood. Her mind was spouting non-sequiturs at an alarming rate and she was finding it close to impossible to focus. Bizarre. It was like telling her mind to turn off had an actual effect. Or maybe she was just losing it.
Same difference.
She put Vera away for the moment and took out a cigarette instead. Inhale, exhale, it almost helped, and it didn't even bother her that the pack was almost half done. There's another pack left, after all. Besides, not like I'm gonna live long enough to run out, right? Hah.
Hayley wasn't sure she believed that anymore. With Vera by her side who the fuck was to say that she wasn't gonna get out of this alive?
Psh, what is this confident bullshit? Having a gun only means you're gonna live if you're willing to, you know, shoot people. INCLUDING your friends, not just assholes who point their guns at people you care about.
Yeah, well, for now I can just shoot the assholes who point their guns at people I care about, right? I can cross the other damn bridges when I get to them.
She returned her attention to Ema. She had in all honesty also completely forgotten her offer to carry Ema's stuff, and in all honesty she didn't want to anymore. She needed to stand up straight to aim. And damn straight she needed her aim more than anything right now.
"So, were you going to get dressed, or are you planning to distract enemies with your boobs?"
Hayley laughed. It was weird, hearing Ema talk like that, but she didn't really care- most of Hayley's other friends talked like that all the damn time and it was kind of comforting to hear.
"Oh, definitely the latter. Nah, like...I don't know, it's too hot out for clothes." She laughed again. "That's such a me-statement to make, damn. But yeah, I think I'll hold off until we get to my clothes. Can't stay naked forever...I guess. Maybe. Perhaps."
With a final grin and a final pull on her cigarette, she flicked the butt away and took Vera out of her bag, her grip tight to keep herself from messing around.
"Alright. We be out!"
And with that eloquent statement she walked into the trees, Ema and Kyle following close behind her.
[[Hayley Kelly, Ema Ryan and Kyle Portman continued in Going Round in Circles]]
[[THREAD CLOSED]]
"As I'll ever be. I was planning to ditch some weight, but makes more sense to do that when we get there."
Hayley was playing with her gun.
What the fuck am I doing?
That was honestly not the question of the moment so much as the question of the island. Less than an hour ago (had it been? she never had any grasp on time, and not having a cell phone or an iPod to tell her the time was seriously fucking with her) she had cut a second boy's head off and now she was playing with his gun.
The main problem was that that wasn't even what was bothering her.
I'm gonna end up turning the safety off and accidentally shooting myself in the damn foot. What did my parents say? Don't play with your food, don't play with mommy's makeup, don't play with deadly weaponry...heh.
She was in a why is the first adjective I think of 'derpy'? That's not even a word... kind of mood. Her mind was spouting non-sequiturs at an alarming rate and she was finding it close to impossible to focus. Bizarre. It was like telling her mind to turn off had an actual effect. Or maybe she was just losing it.
Same difference.
She put Vera away for the moment and took out a cigarette instead. Inhale, exhale, it almost helped, and it didn't even bother her that the pack was almost half done. There's another pack left, after all. Besides, not like I'm gonna live long enough to run out, right? Hah.
Hayley wasn't sure she believed that anymore. With Vera by her side who the fuck was to say that she wasn't gonna get out of this alive?
Psh, what is this confident bullshit? Having a gun only means you're gonna live if you're willing to, you know, shoot people. INCLUDING your friends, not just assholes who point their guns at people you care about.
Yeah, well, for now I can just shoot the assholes who point their guns at people I care about, right? I can cross the other damn bridges when I get to them.
She returned her attention to Ema. She had in all honesty also completely forgotten her offer to carry Ema's stuff, and in all honesty she didn't want to anymore. She needed to stand up straight to aim. And damn straight she needed her aim more than anything right now.
"So, were you going to get dressed, or are you planning to distract enemies with your boobs?"
Hayley laughed. It was weird, hearing Ema talk like that, but she didn't really care- most of Hayley's other friends talked like that all the damn time and it was kind of comforting to hear.
"Oh, definitely the latter. Nah, like...I don't know, it's too hot out for clothes." She laughed again. "That's such a me-statement to make, damn. But yeah, I think I'll hold off until we get to my clothes. Can't stay naked forever...I guess. Maybe. Perhaps."
With a final grin and a final pull on her cigarette, she flicked the butt away and took Vera out of her bag, her grip tight to keep herself from messing around.
"Alright. We be out!"
And with that eloquent statement she walked into the trees, Ema and Kyle following close behind her.
[[Hayley Kelly, Ema Ryan and Kyle Portman continued in Going Round in Circles]]
[[THREAD CLOSED]]
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Hollyquin. 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.