I Will Not Bow

[Espi]

((Blair Moore continued from Another Disappointment of Many))

Blair was dead to the world after arriving at the docks late in the evening. Had she been more coherent, she might have found it serendipitous that she had lost Noah, come here, and then lost Rene and come here again. But her mind was a storm of emotional distress, so she collapsed at the end of a pier and fell asleep watching the water ripple in the moonlight.

Waking up to the announcements, it took Blair a moment to coherently understand what was going on, having slept so fitfully, but she was aware enough to understand what that fuckstain was talking about. First came Kaitlyn, which made Blair feel kind of shitty. She had no idea what the context was, but it sounded like Kaitlyn started something. Classic. Of course, Blair's mild and inappropriate amusement at the death of a rival paled in comparison to her reaction to the death moments later.

Noah was gone. Blair would've found it hard to believe, but...she couldn't believe it. She couldn't allow Noah to be dead. He was a nice guy, and funny, and he didn't deserve to be dead. Blair briefly, in a swell of rage, contemplated hunting down Isabel and murdering her. That fucking bitch didn't deserve to make it home. She was about to scream, in spite of the congestion in her lungs, but-

But Isabel was already dead. Blair didn't feel happy from this revelation; really, she felt nothing. It was hollow, with no anger or satisfaction. Noah was gone, so was his killer, and nobody could change that.  At least, she thought morosely, Isabel was no longer a hazard. Fuck Isabel. Blair hoped she rotted in hell forever.

Of course, Blair then heard her own name. She wanted to be furious that she'd been slandered so flippantly, but she didn't have her heart in it. She stood up, gathered up the remainder of her supplies and packed it into her bag. She didn't want to go to the asylum-fuck that place-but being out in the open was begging for trouble.

It occurred to Blair that she was in trouble. Well, more than usual. Trust was a valuable resource here, and people wouldn't trust her with the perception she'd killed someone in cold blood.  She was, most likely, on her own for the rest of her existence.

But something had changed. Now, she intended to go home. Well, maybe intended was the wrong word; it wasn't like she was going to murder her way to survival. Hopefully not, at least. But to hell with laying down and dying. Her family and friends, here and online and at home and all the other people who cared about her, she had to do it for their sakes. They deserved to see her stand and fight to make it home.

Their sake, a small voice asked, or your sake? Are you scared, Blair Moore? Do you want to live your own life just for its own sake? Do you deserve to go home, when you're already dying? Do you have the right-

She silenced the thought.

So she departed the docks. Her destination? Who knew. One thing was for sure though; if Rene believed Blair could survive, she would do her damndest to make it home. So many people had died, someone who deserved to live should at least get out. If Blair could be that person? So fucking be it.

((Blair Moore continued in Cucurrucucú Paloma))