((Michelle Wexler starts))
Michelle yawned and carefully put a few folded shirts into her small rolling suitcase. She was the only one still awake in the house and the only company she had was the faint buzzing from the television showing old reruns. Michelle turned away to fold up some socks and when she looked back her cat, Napoleon, was curled up on top of her bag.
Michelle put her hands on her hips and sent an annoyed stare at the cat, but she didn't move. She sighed and slumped backwards into a chair and decided to rest her eyes just as an episode of M*A*S*H* was starting up.
"Cause suicide is painless.....it brings on many changes....*
BRRIIINGGGGGGGGG
BRRIINNGGGGGGG
Michelle woke with a start. She snatched her rolling alarm off the floor and saw she had to be at the bus in 20 minutes.
"LAAAAAaaaaaaattteeeeee"
Her terrified yelling filled the house as she ran around zipping up her bag and scribbling a note to her mother.
"MOM: I left Mr. Kitty's insulin on the counter. Remember to give him his shots daily or HE WILL DIE. Also: Don't go in my room! – Michelle"
She slapped the note on the counter near the insulin and ran out the front door with her flip flops in her hand and her bag rolling behind her. Running the whole way she made it just in time to catch the bus with all her friends. She was out of breath, but she was still on time. After a short bus ride and less short security search they were ready to board. On the airplane Michelle cozied up to Kam and fell fast asleep with her head on her shoulder as soon as she sat down.
_______
Michelle was sitting at the edge of a cliff. Her feet dangled precariously off the edge. Her face was streaked with tears that were still coming anew. She sniffed and looked at her knees in an unfocused manner. Her heart was racing so fast she though she'd pass out.
My friends. I could never. Not ever. I would never hurt them. I would sooner- I would sooner....
She picked up the item she found in her bag.
I would rather die than hurt my classmates. I should do it now. I shouldn't take the chance of what might happen. I should do it now while my mind is clear.
She placed the tip to her temple.
But is that selfish? Is it selfish to just leave all my friends here who are going to try and survive? What if they need me? What if they need my help and I'm not here? How could I just leave them? What should I do? I don't know. I love my friends and I'd do anything for them.
Michelle sobbed violently and hugged her knees.
She pulled the trigger.
A stream of water hit the side of her head. Michelle looked down at the long drop as the water from her water gun and her tears dripped down her face.
Sleep, My Dear
Open
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Ruggahissy
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BROseidon†
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((B041 Virgil Jefferson-Davis, start))
What was that girl doing?
Virgil had just woken up. Everything felt a little off. His vision was still a tad blurry, his memory of what had happened unclear.
Where was he? Weren't they supposed to be going to Disneyland? They were on the plane and then he dozed off and... oh, shit.
Right, that. Survival of the Fittest.
Virgil would have screamed. He would have started crying. He would have lost all semblance of emotional control had he not seen the girl sitting at the edge of the cliff, precariously holding a water gun to her head. Why was she sitting there? It would be easy to fall. It would be easy for someone with malicious intent to sneak up behind her and push her over. And why did she just shoot herself in the head with a water gun?
As Virgil approached, he recognized that it was Michelle. She wouldn't be dangerous. There were people who just could never kill. Ever. Michelle was one of those people. Everyone liked her and she liked everyone. She wouldn't hurt him.
He didn't want to get too close, didn't want to startle her off the cliff. Standing several meters, back, he called out.
"Hey Michelle, it's Virgil. Good to see a familiar... well, back, I guess."
What was that girl doing?
Virgil had just woken up. Everything felt a little off. His vision was still a tad blurry, his memory of what had happened unclear.
Where was he? Weren't they supposed to be going to Disneyland? They were on the plane and then he dozed off and... oh, shit.
Right, that. Survival of the Fittest.
Virgil would have screamed. He would have started crying. He would have lost all semblance of emotional control had he not seen the girl sitting at the edge of the cliff, precariously holding a water gun to her head. Why was she sitting there? It would be easy to fall. It would be easy for someone with malicious intent to sneak up behind her and push her over. And why did she just shoot herself in the head with a water gun?
As Virgil approached, he recognized that it was Michelle. She wouldn't be dangerous. There were people who just could never kill. Ever. Michelle was one of those people. Everyone liked her and she liked everyone. She wouldn't hurt him.
He didn't want to get too close, didn't want to startle her off the cliff. Standing several meters, back, he called out.
"Hey Michelle, it's Virgil. Good to see a familiar... well, back, I guess."
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Ruggahissy
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Michelle whipped her head towards the noise. She bit the bottom of her lip and looked at Virgil with her red, watery eyes. The wind from the ocean below unsettled her long curls slightly.
She put the colorful plastic gun down by her side. A few pebbles displaced by the movement tumbled over the edge. Michelle opened her mouth to speak, but her voice caught and more tears spilled onto her cheek. A few feet backwards, more safely away from the edge was her bag, zipper still open.
"I....I can't..."
She closed her eyes and shuddered.
Am I a selfish person? Does he think I'm selfish for this?
"I'll never kill our friends. I don't want to see them get hurt. I......I don't know what the right thing to do is. I don't want to leave them either."
Michelle shifted and there was a noise. It sounded like the loose dirt and rocks were rearranging themselves. Her heart dropped and then soon after, she followed. Michelle screamed, but managed to grab a tree root protruding out of the cliff side with one hand. Michelle swallowed and looked down. Her plastic gun had plummeted and been eaten up by the waves and rocks below. She swung her second arm up so she was holding on by both hands and looked up. The still intact cliff floor was about two feet up.
"Virgil!" she screamed. The breeze felt ice cold against her hands which were quickly turing white, desperate not to let go.
She put the colorful plastic gun down by her side. A few pebbles displaced by the movement tumbled over the edge. Michelle opened her mouth to speak, but her voice caught and more tears spilled onto her cheek. A few feet backwards, more safely away from the edge was her bag, zipper still open.
"I....I can't..."
She closed her eyes and shuddered.
Am I a selfish person? Does he think I'm selfish for this?
"I'll never kill our friends. I don't want to see them get hurt. I......I don't know what the right thing to do is. I don't want to leave them either."
Michelle shifted and there was a noise. It sounded like the loose dirt and rocks were rearranging themselves. Her heart dropped and then soon after, she followed. Michelle screamed, but managed to grab a tree root protruding out of the cliff side with one hand. Michelle swallowed and looked down. Her plastic gun had plummeted and been eaten up by the waves and rocks below. She swung her second arm up so she was holding on by both hands and looked up. The still intact cliff floor was about two feet up.
"Virgil!" she screamed. The breeze felt ice cold against her hands which were quickly turing white, desperate not to let go.
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BROseidon†
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Holy fucking shit holy fucking shit holy fucking shit.
What the fuck happened? Michelle had just been there talking. She was upset, like any reasonable person would be. She was taking it hard, like he would be if not for HOLY SHIT WHERE DID SHE FUCKING GO.
Was she dead? Virgil couldn't really hear anything other than the tumbling rocks and dirt. Maybe he should go over and check? What if he saw her mangled body on the rocks below? That would be... Virgil quickly purged his mind of the image.
Then he heard her voice. She wasn't dead. She must be hanging on somehow and she was calling for help and HOLY SHIT I SHOULD GO SAVE HER.
Virgil ran over to the cliff's edge, dropping both bags on the way. He looked over and saw Michelle dangling from a tree's root. She was in arm's reach. He could pull her up easily.
"One sec Michelle, I'll pull you up."
Virgil ran back and grabbed his black duffel, the one provided by the terrorists, and that was when he first noticed the shotgun that was placed on it. They had given him a shotgun? What the hell? Did they actually think he was going to be using that thing?
Virgil placed the bag down and laid on his stomach. He grabbed the bag between his legs and reached down, grabbing Michelle's wrist with his right hand. He adjusted his grip to make sure it was firm.
"I got ya. Let go so I can pull you up."
What the fuck happened? Michelle had just been there talking. She was upset, like any reasonable person would be. She was taking it hard, like he would be if not for HOLY SHIT WHERE DID SHE FUCKING GO.
Was she dead? Virgil couldn't really hear anything other than the tumbling rocks and dirt. Maybe he should go over and check? What if he saw her mangled body on the rocks below? That would be... Virgil quickly purged his mind of the image.
Then he heard her voice. She wasn't dead. She must be hanging on somehow and she was calling for help and HOLY SHIT I SHOULD GO SAVE HER.
Virgil ran over to the cliff's edge, dropping both bags on the way. He looked over and saw Michelle dangling from a tree's root. She was in arm's reach. He could pull her up easily.
"One sec Michelle, I'll pull you up."
Virgil ran back and grabbed his black duffel, the one provided by the terrorists, and that was when he first noticed the shotgun that was placed on it. They had given him a shotgun? What the hell? Did they actually think he was going to be using that thing?
Virgil placed the bag down and laid on his stomach. He grabbed the bag between his legs and reached down, grabbing Michelle's wrist with his right hand. He adjusted his grip to make sure it was firm.
"I got ya. Let go so I can pull you up."
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler BROseidon. 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.
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Ruggahissy
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Michelle's breathing sounded so loud to her. Somewhere she heard some kind of seabird calling. Virgil's voice came from somewhere above saying he was going to pull her up.
"No! It's too danger-"
Her fingers were getting slippery. What the heck kind of sense did it make for your fingers to get slippery when you're nervous about trying to hold on? What kind of stupid design was that? The normally soothing sound of waves was suddenly not so soothing.
She grunted and concentrated her hardest at holding on. Michelle felt his hand wrap around her wrist and looked up to see him leaning over the edge to get her.
"If I'm too heavy and you start to fall, let me go!" she shouted. He was a big beefy guy, but Michelle wasn't exactly a delicate snowflake.
Virgil looked certain. She nodded her head. "Okay. On three. One! Two! Three!"
She let go.
"No! It's too danger-"
Her fingers were getting slippery. What the heck kind of sense did it make for your fingers to get slippery when you're nervous about trying to hold on? What kind of stupid design was that? The normally soothing sound of waves was suddenly not so soothing.
She grunted and concentrated her hardest at holding on. Michelle felt his hand wrap around her wrist and looked up to see him leaning over the edge to get her.
"If I'm too heavy and you start to fall, let me go!" she shouted. He was a big beefy guy, but Michelle wasn't exactly a delicate snowflake.
Virgil looked certain. She nodded her head. "Okay. On three. One! Two! Three!"
She let go.
Events had been going on for barely any time at all, and already Dave Russell had cracked.
Maybe he was just too sensitive for it all, or maybe he was just too weak willed, but the sight of his teacher's head exploding, followed by one girl suffocating another, were not things that he could cope with. Learning that he was going to die unless he killed everyone else was also not something that he could cope with. The terrorists' plot was not something that he could cope with.
His drug induced sleep had been riddled with nightmares, and even on wakening they still played in his head. A class full of corpses, an island littered with bodies, and all of them people he knew. All of them were going to die, and there wasn't anything he could do about it.
When he was younger, his parents had watched the Survival of the Fittest coverage on the news. Dave was watching from the doorway at the time, and it had thoroughly freaked him out. Had he been a senior at the time, he would've avoided the school trip all together. The four year lull, alas, had put him in a false, but not unreasonable, sense of security. As a result, he had to endure watching people die.
So it was, as he staggered about Captain's Cliffs, that he played the images of death over and over in his mind. His face had little more than a stunned look on it. His cheeks were stained red with tears, and his pants were soiled with his own urine. He had gone white as a ghost, and every movement was laboured. To a casual observer, he could've been mistaken for a zombie.
He felt the cool sea air on his face, but he didn't register it. What he did register was stories of suicidal people jumping off cliffs. One of the few times he'd gotten out of Seattle in his life, he'd ended up on top of a cliff. It was so far down, that he knew for sure that he'd die if he fell. That had made him keep both his hands firmly on the barrier.
But on this cliff, there were no barriers. If he fell down, that would be the end of everything.
If he stayed up, everything would continue: the visions of death; his friends killing each other; him having to kill his friends, and eventually, his own demise.
As he staggered further forward, he briefly registered Virgil struggling desperately to save Michelle from a similar fate. "Hi guys." He said, as if he'd just passed them in the school hallway. It would've been nice if he could've seen them there again, maybe at graduation.
"Bye guys." He said, as his foot stepped off the cliff and his whole body followed suit.
As the air rushed past him, clarity returned to him for the brief moment until he crashed straight into the rocks below.
He didn't regret it.
Maybe he was just too sensitive for it all, or maybe he was just too weak willed, but the sight of his teacher's head exploding, followed by one girl suffocating another, were not things that he could cope with. Learning that he was going to die unless he killed everyone else was also not something that he could cope with. The terrorists' plot was not something that he could cope with.
His drug induced sleep had been riddled with nightmares, and even on wakening they still played in his head. A class full of corpses, an island littered with bodies, and all of them people he knew. All of them were going to die, and there wasn't anything he could do about it.
When he was younger, his parents had watched the Survival of the Fittest coverage on the news. Dave was watching from the doorway at the time, and it had thoroughly freaked him out. Had he been a senior at the time, he would've avoided the school trip all together. The four year lull, alas, had put him in a false, but not unreasonable, sense of security. As a result, he had to endure watching people die.
So it was, as he staggered about Captain's Cliffs, that he played the images of death over and over in his mind. His face had little more than a stunned look on it. His cheeks were stained red with tears, and his pants were soiled with his own urine. He had gone white as a ghost, and every movement was laboured. To a casual observer, he could've been mistaken for a zombie.
He felt the cool sea air on his face, but he didn't register it. What he did register was stories of suicidal people jumping off cliffs. One of the few times he'd gotten out of Seattle in his life, he'd ended up on top of a cliff. It was so far down, that he knew for sure that he'd die if he fell. That had made him keep both his hands firmly on the barrier.
But on this cliff, there were no barriers. If he fell down, that would be the end of everything.
If he stayed up, everything would continue: the visions of death; his friends killing each other; him having to kill his friends, and eventually, his own demise.
As he staggered further forward, he briefly registered Virgil struggling desperately to save Michelle from a similar fate. "Hi guys." He said, as if he'd just passed them in the school hallway. It would've been nice if he could've seen them there again, maybe at graduation.
"Bye guys." He said, as his foot stepped off the cliff and his whole body followed suit.
As the air rushed past him, clarity returned to him for the brief moment until he crashed straight into the rocks below.
He didn't regret it.
B017: David "Dave" Russell – Deceased
151 Students Remaining
151 Students Remaining
((G035 Sophie McDowell: Start))
Sophie moaned softly. She wiped the sweat off her brow and looked around. She had woken up near the coast of the island, and had wandered around a bit. Part of her was feeling uneasy. The whole kerfuffle of being gassed, kidnapped, then watching her teacher die before being gassed again and put on an island where her classmates had to fight to the death was something she never thought would happen to her. Alas, it had.
She had made her way along some cliffs by now. She had taken note of the resources she had. She didn't carry the monkey wrench she was given by the terrorists. It wasn't something she thought she could use, so she packed it away. If anything, her personal goal was to go the whole game without using it.
Of course, that does mean you're going to die. Well...... I guess I am going to. But I'm not going to die with blood on my hands.
Sophie continued to walk along the cliffs. Her brain was in a torrent of various thoughts. She thought of her parents, her brothers and sisters, the guitar she left at home, her plan for Disneyland, her college acceptance letters, everything was suddenly flooding in. She shook her head and closed her eyes. She could feel tears welling up in her eyes.
This can't be happening. There was a rescue last time. It's been a while since that game happened. The government has to be looking for us.
Just then, Sophie heard a scream and someone calling out for a Virgil. She froze in place. Was someone already in danger? Was someone already killing?
She looked down the path and saw a person was hanging on to the cliff side. Someone looked like they were already trying to pull them up. Sophie gasped.
Oh God, I have to help them!
She began to run down the path to the cliffs when she saw another person walk up. She hoped this person would help the person who nearly fell off. She looked closer and realized it was Dave. Dave, her good friend from art class and her prom date! A smile appeared on her face.
She raised her hand to call out, but before she knew it, Dave was already walking off the cliff. Her eyes widened as she saw him plummet into the rocks below. She covered her mouth with her hands.
Dave? Why? Why did you do that? Wait! The others!
"Hold on!" she shouted to Virgil and Michelle, "I'm coming!"
Sophie began to run over to the duo on the cliff. Dave had thrown himself off a cliff and someone else was about to fall. This couldn't be real.
Sophie moaned softly. She wiped the sweat off her brow and looked around. She had woken up near the coast of the island, and had wandered around a bit. Part of her was feeling uneasy. The whole kerfuffle of being gassed, kidnapped, then watching her teacher die before being gassed again and put on an island where her classmates had to fight to the death was something she never thought would happen to her. Alas, it had.
She had made her way along some cliffs by now. She had taken note of the resources she had. She didn't carry the monkey wrench she was given by the terrorists. It wasn't something she thought she could use, so she packed it away. If anything, her personal goal was to go the whole game without using it.
Of course, that does mean you're going to die. Well...... I guess I am going to. But I'm not going to die with blood on my hands.
Sophie continued to walk along the cliffs. Her brain was in a torrent of various thoughts. She thought of her parents, her brothers and sisters, the guitar she left at home, her plan for Disneyland, her college acceptance letters, everything was suddenly flooding in. She shook her head and closed her eyes. She could feel tears welling up in her eyes.
This can't be happening. There was a rescue last time. It's been a while since that game happened. The government has to be looking for us.
Just then, Sophie heard a scream and someone calling out for a Virgil. She froze in place. Was someone already in danger? Was someone already killing?
She looked down the path and saw a person was hanging on to the cliff side. Someone looked like they were already trying to pull them up. Sophie gasped.
Oh God, I have to help them!
She began to run down the path to the cliffs when she saw another person walk up. She hoped this person would help the person who nearly fell off. She looked closer and realized it was Dave. Dave, her good friend from art class and her prom date! A smile appeared on her face.
She raised her hand to call out, but before she knew it, Dave was already walking off the cliff. Her eyes widened as she saw him plummet into the rocks below. She covered her mouth with her hands.
Dave? Why? Why did you do that? Wait! The others!
"Hold on!" she shouted to Virgil and Michelle, "I'm coming!"
Sophie began to run over to the duo on the cliff. Dave had thrown himself off a cliff and someone else was about to fall. This couldn't be real.
((G051-Stacey Mordetsky: START))
Stacey Mordetsky had been wandering around ever since she had woken up around an hour ago. She would be lying if she said she wasn't shaken by recent events. She was more than shaken, she was terrified. She had seen Mr. Davidge get shot before her very eyes, and it was explained to her in no uncertain terms that she and her classmates had to kill each other if they wanted to live. She didn't want to believe it, but she had to.
This wasn't supposed to happen to her. She was too good for this. She was supposed to spend the summer getting feedback from that talent scout about her glamour shots. She wasn't supposed to be on a one-way trip to the Island of Death! This was all too much. It just wasn't fair.
She trudged up a cliff with her backpack and the duffel bag the terrorists had oh-so-nicely provided for her. She didn't know what was inside, but she knew that it was heavy. What ever it was didn't matter, though, because she had a plan. Once she reached the top of the cliff, she was going to get her phone and call the cops. She was the daughter of a world-famous chef, they would have to come save her! If they took down the people who set the game up on the way, then that was just a bonus.
She smiled to herself as she thought about her plan. She remembered stashing her phone in her backpack before the plane left, so she knew where to find it. She was already mentally congratulating herself for her plan. Stacey, you wonderful genius.
As she reached the top of the cliff, however, her tune changed. she saw one guy leaning over the edge, and another guy walking toward the ledge. As she crept closer, she saw the guy that had been walking towards the ledge say something. He didn't stop, though. Didn't he know that there was a cliff right there?
It was at that moment that the guy walked right off the edge of the cliff. He dropped out of Stacey's sight, down to the rocks below. Someone had just committed suicide right in front of her, and she didn't know how to react to that. She defaulted to what many humans do when confronted with a strange and scary situation.
Which is to say, she screamed. Very loudly.
Stacey Mordetsky had been wandering around ever since she had woken up around an hour ago. She would be lying if she said she wasn't shaken by recent events. She was more than shaken, she was terrified. She had seen Mr. Davidge get shot before her very eyes, and it was explained to her in no uncertain terms that she and her classmates had to kill each other if they wanted to live. She didn't want to believe it, but she had to.
This wasn't supposed to happen to her. She was too good for this. She was supposed to spend the summer getting feedback from that talent scout about her glamour shots. She wasn't supposed to be on a one-way trip to the Island of Death! This was all too much. It just wasn't fair.
She trudged up a cliff with her backpack and the duffel bag the terrorists had oh-so-nicely provided for her. She didn't know what was inside, but she knew that it was heavy. What ever it was didn't matter, though, because she had a plan. Once she reached the top of the cliff, she was going to get her phone and call the cops. She was the daughter of a world-famous chef, they would have to come save her! If they took down the people who set the game up on the way, then that was just a bonus.
She smiled to herself as she thought about her plan. She remembered stashing her phone in her backpack before the plane left, so she knew where to find it. She was already mentally congratulating herself for her plan. Stacey, you wonderful genius.
As she reached the top of the cliff, however, her tune changed. she saw one guy leaning over the edge, and another guy walking toward the ledge. As she crept closer, she saw the guy that had been walking towards the ledge say something. He didn't stop, though. Didn't he know that there was a cliff right there?
It was at that moment that the guy walked right off the edge of the cliff. He dropped out of Stacey's sight, down to the rocks below. Someone had just committed suicide right in front of her, and she didn't know how to react to that. She defaulted to what many humans do when confronted with a strange and scary situation.
Which is to say, she screamed. Very loudly.
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BROseidon†
- Posts: 298
- Joined: Wed Sep 05, 2018 9:08 pm
Virgil braced himself and began pulling Michelle up. She was heavy, but Virgil would be able to lift her up. It was lucky for her that he had been there, since he was one of a small handful of people out there with the strength to pull her to safety.
Hi guys.
What the fuck was Dave doing? Did he not see that he was holding a person over the edge of a cliff? Like, did he not have any idea of anything that was going on?
Bye guys.
Maybe he did know what was going on. Maybe he didn't want a part of this. Of any of this.
Virgil didn't have a chance to respond. Before he could even ask Dave to help him with Michelle, he had walked off the cliff. Virgil instinctively reached out with his other hand to grab Dave, but he didn't respond fast enough. He couldn't have.
Virgil looked down at Michelle, perplexed. He didn't know how to respond. He had seen someone he knew – not a friend, but certainly a friendly acquaintance – die. He had seen someone take his own life. He wasn't going to let Michelle die, either.
There was a scream and then a call. Sophie was running over to help. That was good. Virgil didn't need the help, but it was still appreciated. The scream, Virgil could have done without. Anything to make him lose focus right now was a bad thing; if he loosened his grip Michelle would suffer the same fate as Dave. Virgil kept his wits enough to maintain his grip through all of this, but he needed to get Michelle up as quickly as possible.
"Thanks Sophie. Can you just latch onto me and pull?"
Hi guys.
What the fuck was Dave doing? Did he not see that he was holding a person over the edge of a cliff? Like, did he not have any idea of anything that was going on?
Bye guys.
Maybe he did know what was going on. Maybe he didn't want a part of this. Of any of this.
Virgil didn't have a chance to respond. Before he could even ask Dave to help him with Michelle, he had walked off the cliff. Virgil instinctively reached out with his other hand to grab Dave, but he didn't respond fast enough. He couldn't have.
Virgil looked down at Michelle, perplexed. He didn't know how to respond. He had seen someone he knew – not a friend, but certainly a friendly acquaintance – die. He had seen someone take his own life. He wasn't going to let Michelle die, either.
There was a scream and then a call. Sophie was running over to help. That was good. Virgil didn't need the help, but it was still appreciated. The scream, Virgil could have done without. Anything to make him lose focus right now was a bad thing; if he loosened his grip Michelle would suffer the same fate as Dave. Virgil kept his wits enough to maintain his grip through all of this, but he needed to get Michelle up as quickly as possible.
"Thanks Sophie. Can you just latch onto me and pull?"
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler BROseidon. 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.
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Ruggahissy
- Posts: 1593
- Joined: Mon Aug 13, 2018 4:13 pm
For a split second she was without support, but as promised, Virgil had her wrist in his grip. She let out a breath she'd been holding in, hoping it wouldn't be her last and he started carefully pulling her up.
But suddenly he stopped. Dave came waltzing by as if he hadn't a care in the world.
"Dave watch out!"
But he simply said "bye" and went right over the edge. Michelle tried to reach out to him but there was no way and it seemed Virgil had too, resulting in Michelle swinging slightly like a wind chime. A scream from somewhere and another female voice seemed to startle Virgil and his grip faltered for a moment making Michelle squeak in panic.
"Okay, we're okay," she said, not sure which of them she was trying to convince more. "J-just, hold on. N-not that."
Michelle glanced down at the ocean. The same thing that had happened to her water gun must had happened to Dave. The sea swallowed him up.
But suddenly he stopped. Dave came waltzing by as if he hadn't a care in the world.
"Dave watch out!"
But he simply said "bye" and went right over the edge. Michelle tried to reach out to him but there was no way and it seemed Virgil had too, resulting in Michelle swinging slightly like a wind chime. A scream from somewhere and another female voice seemed to startle Virgil and his grip faltered for a moment making Michelle squeak in panic.
"Okay, we're okay," she said, not sure which of them she was trying to convince more. "J-just, hold on. N-not that."
Michelle glanced down at the ocean. The same thing that had happened to her water gun must had happened to Dave. The sea swallowed him up.
Sophie managed to get over to Virgil just as she heard another girl scream. The girl probably saw what Dave just did as well. Sophie didn't have time to look for the source of the scream, she knew every second lost could mean the other girl would plunge into the sea below. She'd grieve for Dave after she was on solid land.
Sophie tossed her bag to the side and got behind Virgil. She could see he was holding onto Michelle Wexler, who at one time would sell Sophie girl scout cookies. Michelle was nice, and she certainly didn't deserve to fall off the cliff.
Sophie wrapped her arms around Virgil's waist and grabbed tight. She began to pray that all those years of dance training would come in handy here. She needed to believe in something in that moment.
"Okay! Ready!" she shouted.
Please, please, please work!
Sophie tossed her bag to the side and got behind Virgil. She could see he was holding onto Michelle Wexler, who at one time would sell Sophie girl scout cookies. Michelle was nice, and she certainly didn't deserve to fall off the cliff.
Sophie wrapped her arms around Virgil's waist and grabbed tight. She began to pray that all those years of dance training would come in handy here. She needed to believe in something in that moment.
"Okay! Ready!" she shouted.
Please, please, please work!
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chitoryu12†
- Posts: 96
- Joined: Sat Sep 01, 2018 5:07 am
((B050: Clayton Leven START))
Clayton's hand twitched subconsciously as he closed his eyes. He could see the lighthouse in his mind's eye. A typical building, but there were little details that mattered: the little black windows studded almost randomly around the shaft, the little brick hut at the base and how its roof curved up and over, the cupola topping the tower.
It's the details that make the picture.
Cool breeze swept across his face as he imagined little black and gray lines on a blank background. His hand barely followed the motions, his fingers bent as if grasping an invisible pencil. Slowly, the lines formed into a shape. Every so often he'd open his eyes and scan the structure again from his position on the cliffs. His pencil and sketchpad may have been gone from his belongings when he woke up, but this mental drawing exercise was calming. It was about all that kept him from pissing himself, or flinging himself off the cliffs in resignation.
He had already searched through his black duffle bag after calming down a bit. Nothing special, really. Food and water, a map, a first aid kit, and so on. Bare survival stuff. He wasn't in much of an emotional state to be analyzing anything, or really even eating or drinking. He was on the verge of a panic attack when he got up and started staring at the lighthouse to distract himself.
He hadn't quite figured out what the handcuffs were for.
His quiet meditation-like trance was suddenly broken by a scream. In hindsight, he should have expected it on this island. But in the immediate sense, screams were unusual. Someone was in trouble, as in right now.
His heart jumped, and he began looking around. It was relatively quiet, far away. Out of sight. The cliffs didn't maintain constant elevation everywhere, and he couldn't see everything from where he stood. But it sounded like it was behind him. There was shouting now, fainter than the blood-curdling, very female scream.
He grabbed up his duffle and began running toward the source. Later on, as he thought of why he did, he couldn't think of a reason. There was a handful of people he could count as true friends, and even fewer that (before the game, at least) he said that he would give his life for when it came down to brass tacks. It seemed to be a sort of unconscious decision of selflessness, one that many people make but few think about doing beforehand. Not EVERYONE is a horrible person.
And what he saw was a poor sight.
Someone was lying on the side of the cliff, his arms extended over the edge. A girl was grabbing onto his waist, and both were straining to pull something -- or someone -- back up. There was a lot of shouting going on from everyone involved. He had no clue who screamed. Clayton, as when he began his run, wasn't thinking about much of anything he did next.
"Hey, hey!" he shouted. It wasn't very informative, and possibly a little bit rude. But it's all his brain was really trying to say at that moment, so he let his lips flap. As he skidded to a stop at the cliff edge, roughly dropping his bag with a thud behind him, he saw a young girl that they were trying desperately to haul back up the cliff.
Fuck.
He looked around for a moment, indecisive. Deciding on a course of action, he knelt down and grabbed the fallen girl's arm just below her savior's grip. His muscles screamed as he pulled as hard as he could to bring her back up to solid ground.
Clayton's hand twitched subconsciously as he closed his eyes. He could see the lighthouse in his mind's eye. A typical building, but there were little details that mattered: the little black windows studded almost randomly around the shaft, the little brick hut at the base and how its roof curved up and over, the cupola topping the tower.
It's the details that make the picture.
Cool breeze swept across his face as he imagined little black and gray lines on a blank background. His hand barely followed the motions, his fingers bent as if grasping an invisible pencil. Slowly, the lines formed into a shape. Every so often he'd open his eyes and scan the structure again from his position on the cliffs. His pencil and sketchpad may have been gone from his belongings when he woke up, but this mental drawing exercise was calming. It was about all that kept him from pissing himself, or flinging himself off the cliffs in resignation.
He had already searched through his black duffle bag after calming down a bit. Nothing special, really. Food and water, a map, a first aid kit, and so on. Bare survival stuff. He wasn't in much of an emotional state to be analyzing anything, or really even eating or drinking. He was on the verge of a panic attack when he got up and started staring at the lighthouse to distract himself.
He hadn't quite figured out what the handcuffs were for.
His quiet meditation-like trance was suddenly broken by a scream. In hindsight, he should have expected it on this island. But in the immediate sense, screams were unusual. Someone was in trouble, as in right now.
His heart jumped, and he began looking around. It was relatively quiet, far away. Out of sight. The cliffs didn't maintain constant elevation everywhere, and he couldn't see everything from where he stood. But it sounded like it was behind him. There was shouting now, fainter than the blood-curdling, very female scream.
He grabbed up his duffle and began running toward the source. Later on, as he thought of why he did, he couldn't think of a reason. There was a handful of people he could count as true friends, and even fewer that (before the game, at least) he said that he would give his life for when it came down to brass tacks. It seemed to be a sort of unconscious decision of selflessness, one that many people make but few think about doing beforehand. Not EVERYONE is a horrible person.
And what he saw was a poor sight.
Someone was lying on the side of the cliff, his arms extended over the edge. A girl was grabbing onto his waist, and both were straining to pull something -- or someone -- back up. There was a lot of shouting going on from everyone involved. He had no clue who screamed. Clayton, as when he began his run, wasn't thinking about much of anything he did next.
"Hey, hey!" he shouted. It wasn't very informative, and possibly a little bit rude. But it's all his brain was really trying to say at that moment, so he let his lips flap. As he skidded to a stop at the cliff edge, roughly dropping his bag with a thud behind him, he saw a young girl that they were trying desperately to haul back up the cliff.
Fuck.
He looked around for a moment, indecisive. Deciding on a course of action, he knelt down and grabbed the fallen girl's arm just below her savior's grip. His muscles screamed as he pulled as hard as he could to bring her back up to solid ground.
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler chitoryu12. 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.
Stacey didn't know what to do. Part of her wanted to run as far away from the cliffs as possible. Another part of her wanted to see about that guy leaning over the edge. A third part of her was still undecided, but quite uncomfortable nonetheless.
The matter wasn't helped when more people started to show up. They all ran over to the leaning guy to see what his problem was. They all started to help him, telling him to hold on. Was he falling over the edge? Stacey had an internal conflict on whether to go over and check or not. On the one hand, that guy could be in trouble, but on the other, there was already two other people there, and they probably had enough strength between themselves to help him out. In the end, her curiosity won out, and she walked over to see what the big deal was.
She looked over the edge to see what they all were looking at, at saw Michelle Wexler, the Girl Scout, dangling over the edge, with the other kids being the only thing keeping her from falling to her death below. Stacey began to freak out. If she didn't do something, then a second person might die in front of her. She wracked her brain, trying to make a decision. Instinctively, she took a few steps back, just in case they dropped Michelle. She didn't want to see two people die in one day, let alone within five minutes of each other.
The matter wasn't helped when more people started to show up. They all ran over to the leaning guy to see what his problem was. They all started to help him, telling him to hold on. Was he falling over the edge? Stacey had an internal conflict on whether to go over and check or not. On the one hand, that guy could be in trouble, but on the other, there was already two other people there, and they probably had enough strength between themselves to help him out. In the end, her curiosity won out, and she walked over to see what the big deal was.
She looked over the edge to see what they all were looking at, at saw Michelle Wexler, the Girl Scout, dangling over the edge, with the other kids being the only thing keeping her from falling to her death below. Stacey began to freak out. If she didn't do something, then a second person might die in front of her. She wracked her brain, trying to make a decision. Instinctively, she took a few steps back, just in case they dropped Michelle. She didn't want to see two people die in one day, let alone within five minutes of each other.
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Ruggahissy
- Posts: 1593
- Joined: Mon Aug 13, 2018 4:13 pm
(Slight GM of Virgil approved)
Michelle stretched her left arm up above her head, fingers trembling with the anticipation of grabbing the earth. Virgil was trying so hard and Michelle felt like she had to match the effort. She wouldn't let him do this on his own when it was her fault they were like this.
The whirring of the water below them was like the ocean track on a "sounds to fall asleep to" CD. A female voice said something, but it was drowned out by the white noise of water rushing back and forth. They were almost there. Her fingertips grazed the top of the cliff where Virgil was laying flat on his stomach.
The first little bits of dirt fell as she desperately tried to get a hold. Michelle was biting her lip so hard it was numb. She noticed then that there was someone else there by Virgil's side. Someone who was standing and had just dropped their bag right next to the person trying to save the girl who had fallen off the cliff because it had collapsed. Her eyes widened in disbelief and fear. An admonishing scream to get the hell away was building in her throat, but then he grabbed the arm Virgil was in the process of pulling back up. The sudden forceful pull of her already extended arm resulted in an immediate sickening crack and instead of words she let out a vicious, high pitched scream of pain.
Fortunately Virgil had done enough and she was able to jam her left hand down on the grass, digging her fingers in and feeling the dirt fill up under her nails. Her feet fluttered and kicked as if it would help.
Half of her chest was over into safe territory. Virgil grabbed her around the waist with one more burst of effort and they both fell backwards away from the edge, safely on the cliff top
Michelle landed on top of Virgil in a sort of hug, gripping one shoulder tightly as she took huge, gasping breaths. Her right arm was....not in the position should have been and limp. The fingers of her good arm were shaking, but squeezing Virgil as if she were still in danger of falling.
Michelle's eyes were shut tightly and her head was buried in his chest. Fresh tears from the pain welled up in her eyes and the inside of her mouth tasted faintly metallic.
"Th-th-tha-nks," she choked out.
She wanted to tell the rocket scientist that he was a total moron for a number of reasons or to say something sarcastic or say anything at all, but it was hard to think through the pain. Michelle quickly decided priority should go to her dislocated shoulder.
"I need another favor," she said quietly, her voice cracking. "Last one, promise. Grab my floppidy arm and when I say so, pull down and towards you."
Gingerly, Michelle rolled off of him and flat onto her back. She stared up at the sky, trying to will herself to relax, trying not to be nervous.
"If your name is not Virgil, do not touch me. The next person who touches me who isn't Virgil I will use my not-gimpy arm, rip off your face and feed it to a goat. And for the love of God stay away from the unstable cliff edge!" she snapped.
This is going to hurt really really really bad.
Michelle stretched her left arm up above her head, fingers trembling with the anticipation of grabbing the earth. Virgil was trying so hard and Michelle felt like she had to match the effort. She wouldn't let him do this on his own when it was her fault they were like this.
The whirring of the water below them was like the ocean track on a "sounds to fall asleep to" CD. A female voice said something, but it was drowned out by the white noise of water rushing back and forth. They were almost there. Her fingertips grazed the top of the cliff where Virgil was laying flat on his stomach.
The first little bits of dirt fell as she desperately tried to get a hold. Michelle was biting her lip so hard it was numb. She noticed then that there was someone else there by Virgil's side. Someone who was standing and had just dropped their bag right next to the person trying to save the girl who had fallen off the cliff because it had collapsed. Her eyes widened in disbelief and fear. An admonishing scream to get the hell away was building in her throat, but then he grabbed the arm Virgil was in the process of pulling back up. The sudden forceful pull of her already extended arm resulted in an immediate sickening crack and instead of words she let out a vicious, high pitched scream of pain.
Fortunately Virgil had done enough and she was able to jam her left hand down on the grass, digging her fingers in and feeling the dirt fill up under her nails. Her feet fluttered and kicked as if it would help.
Half of her chest was over into safe territory. Virgil grabbed her around the waist with one more burst of effort and they both fell backwards away from the edge, safely on the cliff top
Michelle landed on top of Virgil in a sort of hug, gripping one shoulder tightly as she took huge, gasping breaths. Her right arm was....not in the position should have been and limp. The fingers of her good arm were shaking, but squeezing Virgil as if she were still in danger of falling.
Michelle's eyes were shut tightly and her head was buried in his chest. Fresh tears from the pain welled up in her eyes and the inside of her mouth tasted faintly metallic.
"Th-th-tha-nks," she choked out.
She wanted to tell the rocket scientist that he was a total moron for a number of reasons or to say something sarcastic or say anything at all, but it was hard to think through the pain. Michelle quickly decided priority should go to her dislocated shoulder.
"I need another favor," she said quietly, her voice cracking. "Last one, promise. Grab my floppidy arm and when I say so, pull down and towards you."
Gingerly, Michelle rolled off of him and flat onto her back. She stared up at the sky, trying to will herself to relax, trying not to be nervous.
"If your name is not Virgil, do not touch me. The next person who touches me who isn't Virgil I will use my not-gimpy arm, rip off your face and feed it to a goat. And for the love of God stay away from the unstable cliff edge!" she snapped.
This is going to hurt really really really bad.
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BROseidon†
- Posts: 298
- Joined: Wed Sep 05, 2018 9:08 pm
(GMing approved and all that jazz)
Everything moved too quickly for Virgil to process it all.
Some idiot reached down to grab Michelle and she screamed and suddenly he was on his back with Michelle on top of him. They were still at the edge of the cliff, the cliff that had just crumbled. There were now four people there. This wasn't good. They needed to move before more of the cliff gave way.
Michelle rolled off of him and was now asking him to pull on her arm. Virgil got on his knees and looked at Michelle's right shoulder, and saw a dislocated shoulder. Virgil had seen a handful of them in his time playing rugby. While he'd never gotten one himself, he'd seen some of his team mates get them, and he'd even given one to an opposing player one time.
"Guys, stay back. I'm going to pull her shoulder back into place. The rest of you should step away from the cliff's edge." Virgil had seen team medics put a dislocated shoulder back into place before, but he never had done it himself. Still, Michelle seemed comfortable with him doing it, and that shoulder needed to get fixed before the rest of the cliff decided to crumble beneath them.
Virgil put his right leg against Michelle's side to brace himself, and he grabbed the limp arm. Virgil could hear the water crashing against the rocks, as if to remind him what would happen should he take too long. He needed to be quick, careful, but quick. Festina lente.
Once Michelle had given him to okay, he slowly began pulling the arm towards him. He needed to go slowly, as to not further hurt the arm. He pushed carefully against the resistance of Michelle's muscles, gradually moving the arm close and closer to him. There was another pop. Not as loud this time. Michelle's shoulder looked normal again, and she seemed to be in a lot less pain. Virgil rose to his feet and grabbed his black duffel, which was still next to him.
"We need to make a sling for that pronto. Maybe they gave us some bandages?" Virgil was talking just to Michelle at this point. Hopefully the others stepped away from the cliff's edge and wouldn't get in the way.
Everything moved too quickly for Virgil to process it all.
Some idiot reached down to grab Michelle and she screamed and suddenly he was on his back with Michelle on top of him. They were still at the edge of the cliff, the cliff that had just crumbled. There were now four people there. This wasn't good. They needed to move before more of the cliff gave way.
Michelle rolled off of him and was now asking him to pull on her arm. Virgil got on his knees and looked at Michelle's right shoulder, and saw a dislocated shoulder. Virgil had seen a handful of them in his time playing rugby. While he'd never gotten one himself, he'd seen some of his team mates get them, and he'd even given one to an opposing player one time.
"Guys, stay back. I'm going to pull her shoulder back into place. The rest of you should step away from the cliff's edge." Virgil had seen team medics put a dislocated shoulder back into place before, but he never had done it himself. Still, Michelle seemed comfortable with him doing it, and that shoulder needed to get fixed before the rest of the cliff decided to crumble beneath them.
Virgil put his right leg against Michelle's side to brace himself, and he grabbed the limp arm. Virgil could hear the water crashing against the rocks, as if to remind him what would happen should he take too long. He needed to be quick, careful, but quick. Festina lente.
Once Michelle had given him to okay, he slowly began pulling the arm towards him. He needed to go slowly, as to not further hurt the arm. He pushed carefully against the resistance of Michelle's muscles, gradually moving the arm close and closer to him. There was another pop. Not as loud this time. Michelle's shoulder looked normal again, and she seemed to be in a lot less pain. Virgil rose to his feet and grabbed his black duffel, which was still next to him.
"We need to make a sling for that pronto. Maybe they gave us some bandages?" Virgil was talking just to Michelle at this point. Hopefully the others stepped away from the cliff's edge and wouldn't get in the way.
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler BROseidon. 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.