((B04, OWEN KAY-START))
It had been a couple of hours since Owen had woken up. A couple of hours to take in his surroundings, and everything that had occurred prior to him waking up. And yet his mind was still trying to get to grips with what was truly going on. This wasn't a normal thing to wake up to, after all. It wasn't every day you woke up and found yourself in an abandoned hospital, as your friends and classmates killed and died around you.
Owen had wandered around the ground floor of the hospital for about an hour now, his bag on his back, and his assigned weapon in his right hand. A scalpel. There were probably tons of them in this very building. Not only was his "weapon" functionally useless, he could simply have picked it up anyway. It felt as though he'd been thought of as a last resort. Oh, yeah, that lanky British kid. Just give 'im something of the floor, doesn't matter what. Owen had sighed, sniffed a little, and carried on walking. He needed to keep it together.
His exploration of the floor had revealed nothing of any interest, or help, and soon Owen was back where he'd first woken up; next to the reception desk. So, two hours had passed. How many more did Owen have left on this island? Hell, how many hours did he have full stop?
Owen shook his head to clear his thoughts. He slapped himself in the face, pressed the blade of the scalpel into his finger until it drew blood, hoping the pain would drive the thoughts from his head. They just wouldn't stop coming, though. He was going to die. There were no questions about it. He was a dead man walking, who didn't know when he'd finally fall and stop breathing. There was simply the great unknown to look forwards to. The idea was terrifying to Owen. Whatever he did on the island, whatever he'd done in his life, would be irrelevant.
On that matter, what had he done in his life? Owen tried to think of something, tried to break through the cloud of death fogging up his mind. Some great achievement he'd made, some mark he'd left on the world. There was nothing. Nothing he could think of. Nothing that people would remember him by, aside from his family. His friends wouldn't remember him; they were almost entirely on the island alongside him. His family, Thom, and a few friends in England were the only people that would remember anything he'd done. Amy, Jack, Gwen, Brian, Darren... they were all with him here.
Finally, Owen's thoughts went back to that hall he'd been bound in however long ago it had been. He had remained calm and collected there. Even when Mr. Davidge had been shot right in front of him, Owen had managed not to make a sound. Now though, the memory of that, of Mr. Davidge being killed so easily and thoughtlessly, that was what broke Owen's calm. He could feel tears flowing down his cheeks, and he made no attempt to wipe them away.
Hands shaking, Owen looked frantically around the reception desk. There was a phone right next to him, already unplugged. Owen grabbed it, and with a strangled shout, hurled it against the far wall. Shards of plastic sprayed in a short radius, but Owen didn't notice. He slumped to the ground, head in his hands, and continued his uncontrollable weeping.
This is a message from Lord Nergal. "I await you on the Dread Isle."
This is a message from Lord Nergal. "I await you on the Dread Isle."
"bryony and alba would definitely join the terrorists quote me on this put this quote in signatures put it in history books" - Cicada Days, 2017
[Aileen Aurora Abdallah: Start]
Apparently, some terrorist found it funny to place Aileen under a desk, so that when she woke up, she would hit her head. Aileen was not particulary amused. It took her a while to leave the small place between desk and floor, mostly due to her still being very groggy. Once Aileen finally managed to stand, she looked at the desk she was under. Littered with paper sheets, it had a duffle bag at its top, "G042" written on it. Aileen knew where she was in. However, at that moment, Aileen really wanted a coffee. Despite her acute need for caffeine, she inspected her collar and the duffle bag. She played around with the black MMA gloves she found there for a while, and eventually put them on.
A loud noise. Aileen was awake, somewhat, or at least alerted. Alas, it still was not the time to think about her situation, because whatever the loud noise was, it had priority. Aileen froze and made as little sound as possible. Someone was... weeping?
Aileen headed to the door, and opened it slowly. She positioned herself in a way that made her hidden in case someone was standing directly before the other side of the door. She wasn't certain what to do next, so she stood there for a few seconds, door handle in her hand, and listened to the weeping. Eventually, she decided to stay there and only use her voice for contact.
"...hello? Who is there?"
Her voice was surprisingly weak. It seemed like Aileen's mind was not fully active yet.
Apparently, some terrorist found it funny to place Aileen under a desk, so that when she woke up, she would hit her head. Aileen was not particulary amused. It took her a while to leave the small place between desk and floor, mostly due to her still being very groggy. Once Aileen finally managed to stand, she looked at the desk she was under. Littered with paper sheets, it had a duffle bag at its top, "G042" written on it. Aileen knew where she was in. However, at that moment, Aileen really wanted a coffee. Despite her acute need for caffeine, she inspected her collar and the duffle bag. She played around with the black MMA gloves she found there for a while, and eventually put them on.
A loud noise. Aileen was awake, somewhat, or at least alerted. Alas, it still was not the time to think about her situation, because whatever the loud noise was, it had priority. Aileen froze and made as little sound as possible. Someone was... weeping?
Aileen headed to the door, and opened it slowly. She positioned herself in a way that made her hidden in case someone was standing directly before the other side of the door. She wasn't certain what to do next, so she stood there for a few seconds, door handle in her hand, and listened to the weeping. Eventually, she decided to stay there and only use her voice for contact.
"...hello? Who is there?"
Her voice was surprisingly weak. It seemed like Aileen's mind was not fully active yet.
Gervais Frans Lambotte 
Blue Jeans and Bloody Tears Martini-Henry Rifle MkIV Pattern
||Selection|Clicks|Lonely|
Blue Jeans and Bloody Tears Martini-Henry Rifle MkIV Pattern||Selection|Clicks|Lonely|
Owen's panicked bout of crying continued for several more minutes. Every time it felt as though the tears were about to dry up, another wave started flowing. He could feel his entire body shaking, an ugly, pained sound leaving his mouth every few seconds. Owen knew he must have looked completely pathetic, but right now, he didn't care in the slightest. The prospect of death was the only thing in Owen's mind, and it was completely filling it up.
Hell, was there a point in getting up anyway? He could just sit here, couldn't he? It wasn't as if anything was going to happen asides from the inevitable. Either someone who decided to 'play' would stumble across him, or the hospital would be announced a Danger Zone. Whichever came first, really.
Suddenly, Owen heard something. A voice, female, spoken in a break between his sobbing. He instantly looked up and around him, searching for who had spoken. Owen instantly became silent, holding his breath, a whole number of different scenarios, all bad, running through his head. The silence gave Owen a sudden moment of clarity, mostly around his thoughts a few second previous. Had he honestly just considered sitting a letting death come to him? That was dumb. That was beyond dumb, that was fucking stupid. Owen was not just going to sit around and let the one thing that terrified him in this world come for him. It was inevitable, Owen still couldn't get that out of his head, but it could be delayed.
Slowly, Owen's tears began to stop flowing, as he shakily stood up, and his gaze swept the room a second time. He couldn't see anybody in plain view, and his height allowed him to see that there was no-one in any hiding spots. He guessed that the voice had come from outside the room, although from where exactly, he wasn't sure. He hadn't exactly been concentrating on that, after all.
Even in his current situation, there was obviously some part of Owen that retained his previous trusting nature from Seattle. He hesitated only a second after finishing his sweep of the room before speaking up. His voice was shaky and slightly broken in places. There was no need to hide it, Owen reasoned. The voice had most likely heard him crying anyway.
"He-hello? This is... This is Owen. Owen K-Kay! British Owen... L-look, whoever you are... you c-can come out from hiding... I'm... I'm pretty much unarmed..." Owen paused a second. In that pause, he realised he was inadvertently holding onto the reception desk, as if to keep himself standing.
"That... That and I'm f-fucking terrified right now..."
Hell, was there a point in getting up anyway? He could just sit here, couldn't he? It wasn't as if anything was going to happen asides from the inevitable. Either someone who decided to 'play' would stumble across him, or the hospital would be announced a Danger Zone. Whichever came first, really.
Suddenly, Owen heard something. A voice, female, spoken in a break between his sobbing. He instantly looked up and around him, searching for who had spoken. Owen instantly became silent, holding his breath, a whole number of different scenarios, all bad, running through his head. The silence gave Owen a sudden moment of clarity, mostly around his thoughts a few second previous. Had he honestly just considered sitting a letting death come to him? That was dumb. That was beyond dumb, that was fucking stupid. Owen was not just going to sit around and let the one thing that terrified him in this world come for him. It was inevitable, Owen still couldn't get that out of his head, but it could be delayed.
Slowly, Owen's tears began to stop flowing, as he shakily stood up, and his gaze swept the room a second time. He couldn't see anybody in plain view, and his height allowed him to see that there was no-one in any hiding spots. He guessed that the voice had come from outside the room, although from where exactly, he wasn't sure. He hadn't exactly been concentrating on that, after all.
Even in his current situation, there was obviously some part of Owen that retained his previous trusting nature from Seattle. He hesitated only a second after finishing his sweep of the room before speaking up. His voice was shaky and slightly broken in places. There was no need to hide it, Owen reasoned. The voice had most likely heard him crying anyway.
"He-hello? This is... This is Owen. Owen K-Kay! British Owen... L-look, whoever you are... you c-can come out from hiding... I'm... I'm pretty much unarmed..." Owen paused a second. In that pause, he realised he was inadvertently holding onto the reception desk, as if to keep himself standing.
"That... That and I'm f-fucking terrified right now..."
"bryony and alba would definitely join the terrorists quote me on this put this quote in signatures put it in history books" - Cicada Days, 2017
Owen Kay... That name seemed familiar to Aileen. She was not enterly sure though. Certainly, they have talked with each other at some point in the past, they go to the same school after all, but who exactly he was? No idea. Nontheless, he seemed harmless, so Aileen walked out of the office.
Aileen slowly realized where was. This had to be a hospital. It was a weird experience for Aileen. The people who would work here were objects of Aileen's admiration. More than once did she refer to the abilities of doctors, surgeons, nurses and the like as "death-defying". She was so amazed, that she wanted to have these abilites herself. It had a hint of irony now, a place where people would fight against death turned into the arena for a blood spectacle.
Aileen reached the receptionist's desk. There, she saw Owen.
"Heya... It's me, Aileen."
Owen looked like a mess. The big man, weeping. He stated that he was terrified. Aileen did not know how to reply. She shivered. She did not feel fear... but a certain form of uneasiness. She realized that the next days will be hell. She knew, that only one of around 150 people would live at the end. Everyone else died... It was a depressing thought. More depressing, Aileen did not know wether she would be the winner. She bit on her lip and averted her gaze from Owen.
"You... I... We should not give up. I mean, not now... because... well, I am here for you."
A rare moment. Aileen, being at a loss for words.
Aileen slowly realized where was. This had to be a hospital. It was a weird experience for Aileen. The people who would work here were objects of Aileen's admiration. More than once did she refer to the abilities of doctors, surgeons, nurses and the like as "death-defying". She was so amazed, that she wanted to have these abilites herself. It had a hint of irony now, a place where people would fight against death turned into the arena for a blood spectacle.
Aileen reached the receptionist's desk. There, she saw Owen.
"Heya... It's me, Aileen."
Owen looked like a mess. The big man, weeping. He stated that he was terrified. Aileen did not know how to reply. She shivered. She did not feel fear... but a certain form of uneasiness. She realized that the next days will be hell. She knew, that only one of around 150 people would live at the end. Everyone else died... It was a depressing thought. More depressing, Aileen did not know wether she would be the winner. She bit on her lip and averted her gaze from Owen.
"You... I... We should not give up. I mean, not now... because... well, I am here for you."
A rare moment. Aileen, being at a loss for words.
Gervais Frans Lambotte Blue Jeans and Bloody Tears Martini-Henry Rifle MkIV Pattern
||Selection|Clicks|Lonely|
Blue Jeans and Bloody Tears Martini-Henry Rifle MkIV Pattern||Selection|Clicks|Lonely|
It seemed the voice trusted Owen enough to actually reveal themselves. That was good, hopefully. Everyone had only just woken up, after all, give or take. The chances of people playing already were slim. Hopefully. Oh God, Owen hoped no-one was playing. Even if his weapon hadn't been functionally useless, in his current frame of mind, almost anybody could have taken him on and won.
Thankfully the person who stepped out from one of the many offices was, for the most part, harmless. Mostly. Owen hoped. Aileen Abdallah didn't exactly have the greatest reputation around school due to her rather opinionated nature. Fortunately, Owen had never been around her during any of her obnoxious moments. And most importantly, given the current situation, Aileen didn't seem to be carrying anything remotely deadly. Actually, she didn't seem to be carrying anything at all.
Owen's sudden regeneration of optimism was instantly crushed by the reminder that just because he couldn't see a weapon didn't mean she didn't have a weapon. And that just because she wasn't the strongest person in the world didn't mean she wouldn't be able to hurt Owen in some way.
Owen was almost tempted to slap himself again, but Aileen's presence stopped him from doing so. Still, it was stupid to think such thoughts about someone whose body language and manner of speaking suggested they were just as scared as he was. Owen considered wiping his tears away and putting on a brave face, but there wasn't any need. Aileen had seen him crying. Smiling now might even give the wrong impression.
Aileen seemed to be trying to reassure him, though. She was definitely as scared as he was, and her voice showed it, but the meaning behind the words was clear. Owen tried to force a small smile onto his face now, after hearing Aileen's words. Even that was a herculean effort, and one that Owen gave up on. Despite her struggle to find any meaningful words, Aileen's last statement, that she was here for him, stuck with him. Owen sniffed, paused, and nodded.
"Y-yeah... I know... Thanks, Aileen..." Only now did Owen try wipe away the lingering tears on his face. There wasn't anything he could do to remove the redness around his eyes or the feeling of despair that threatened to break through at any moment, but it was a start.
"Sorry... Still trying to get used to this idea... I just don't wanna end up l-like those guys..." At this Owen gestured towards the fish tank, empty but for the skeletons lying at the bottom. Owen forced a laugh, harsh and with no feeling behind it. It died out almost as soon as it had started, and Owen was left to stare miserably at the floor.
"So, uh..." he mumbled. "You looked around h-here yet? I did earlier... but I didn't really see anything, uh... useful."
Thankfully the person who stepped out from one of the many offices was, for the most part, harmless. Mostly. Owen hoped. Aileen Abdallah didn't exactly have the greatest reputation around school due to her rather opinionated nature. Fortunately, Owen had never been around her during any of her obnoxious moments. And most importantly, given the current situation, Aileen didn't seem to be carrying anything remotely deadly. Actually, she didn't seem to be carrying anything at all.
Owen's sudden regeneration of optimism was instantly crushed by the reminder that just because he couldn't see a weapon didn't mean she didn't have a weapon. And that just because she wasn't the strongest person in the world didn't mean she wouldn't be able to hurt Owen in some way.
Owen was almost tempted to slap himself again, but Aileen's presence stopped him from doing so. Still, it was stupid to think such thoughts about someone whose body language and manner of speaking suggested they were just as scared as he was. Owen considered wiping his tears away and putting on a brave face, but there wasn't any need. Aileen had seen him crying. Smiling now might even give the wrong impression.
Aileen seemed to be trying to reassure him, though. She was definitely as scared as he was, and her voice showed it, but the meaning behind the words was clear. Owen tried to force a small smile onto his face now, after hearing Aileen's words. Even that was a herculean effort, and one that Owen gave up on. Despite her struggle to find any meaningful words, Aileen's last statement, that she was here for him, stuck with him. Owen sniffed, paused, and nodded.
"Y-yeah... I know... Thanks, Aileen..." Only now did Owen try wipe away the lingering tears on his face. There wasn't anything he could do to remove the redness around his eyes or the feeling of despair that threatened to break through at any moment, but it was a start.
"Sorry... Still trying to get used to this idea... I just don't wanna end up l-like those guys..." At this Owen gestured towards the fish tank, empty but for the skeletons lying at the bottom. Owen forced a laugh, harsh and with no feeling behind it. It died out almost as soon as it had started, and Owen was left to stare miserably at the floor.
"So, uh..." he mumbled. "You looked around h-here yet? I did earlier... but I didn't really see anything, uh... useful."
"bryony and alba would definitely join the terrorists quote me on this put this quote in signatures put it in history books" - Cicada Days, 2017
Surprisingly, Aileen's attempt to reassure Owen worked a bit. As Owen forced a smile, Aileen did so too. As he made a joke about the dead fished, Aileen even chuckled a bit. It was not as forced though. Black humor seemed like a good idea to get her act together. However, she abruptly stopped a second after Owen stopped.
He asked whether Aileen looked around already. She shook her head.
"I just woke up. Neither did I find anything useful. And my head still hurts a tiny bit."
Aileen massaged her forehead with her left hand, and rubbed the back of her head with the other one. It did not hurt much, but her head still felt a bit weird. Partly due to the gas, and partly due to bumping against the desk.
What was "useful" though? An easy question actually. Painkillers, for example, would be useful. Aileen thought that these would be in the first aid kit she found in her duffle bag, however. Sure, it may be useful to have spares, but even if she found something in this building, Aileen doubted that it would be a great idea to consume it. There was another thing Aileen wondered about, a question she found to be more important.
"What are we going to do?"
Aileen doubted that she would get a good answer from the labile boy, but it was a way of continuing the conversation. Who knows, maybe it would help her in getting a completely clear head.
He asked whether Aileen looked around already. She shook her head.
"I just woke up. Neither did I find anything useful. And my head still hurts a tiny bit."
Aileen massaged her forehead with her left hand, and rubbed the back of her head with the other one. It did not hurt much, but her head still felt a bit weird. Partly due to the gas, and partly due to bumping against the desk.
What was "useful" though? An easy question actually. Painkillers, for example, would be useful. Aileen thought that these would be in the first aid kit she found in her duffle bag, however. Sure, it may be useful to have spares, but even if she found something in this building, Aileen doubted that it would be a great idea to consume it. There was another thing Aileen wondered about, a question she found to be more important.
"What are we going to do?"
Aileen doubted that she would get a good answer from the labile boy, but it was a way of continuing the conversation. Who knows, maybe it would help her in getting a completely clear head.
Gervais Frans Lambotte Blue Jeans and Bloody Tears Martini-Henry Rifle MkIV Pattern
||Selection|Clicks|Lonely|
Blue Jeans and Bloody Tears Martini-Henry Rifle MkIV Pattern||Selection|Clicks|Lonely|
This hadn't exactly been something Owen had expected. Aileen seemed to be, if not taking everything in her stride, dealing with what had happened relatively well. She wasn't acting as pathetic as Owen currently was, that was for damn sure. Hell, she even managed a smile herself, and the laugh she made after his comment about the fish sounded genuine too.
It was a little odd, but Aileen's confidence, be it an act or her true reaction to what was going on around her, managed to lift Owen's spirits a fraction. He still couldn't get the horrible ideas out of his head, that death was inches away from him every second, and of the terrifying unknown void that was death. But he'd been determined seconds ago not to lie down and let death simply come to him. He needed to stay strong, or at least act strong. He knew as well as anyone how much you felt like your character after acting for a while. If Aileen could stay moderately composed through all of this, then he could as well.
Aileen was speaking now, stating that she had only just woken up. She probably hadn't found anything then, yeah. Her head also hurt apparently, which was something Owen could also identify with. His body ached all over, his throat felt tight from the crying and the metal collar which Owen was doing his best not to think about, and his finger...
Owen instinctively put the finger he'd sliced into with his scalpel into his mouth. He'd forgotten all about his self inflicted 'injury'. There were a couple of tiny drops of blood on the dirty floor of the reception. It was hardly a life threatening injury, but still, every drop of blood counted on the island.
Owen let out a sudden, short laugh. Genuine this time. Still morbid humour, just like his previous one. Somehow, Aileen's assured aura had calmed him down somewhat. Owen was beginning to repeat a mantra in his head; if he wanted to survive, he had to be strong. That meant no more crying or giving up. No crying, stay strong. No crying, stay strong...
Aileen asked what they were going to next, and Owen took his finger out of his mouth to consider this. His hands were still shaky. He hadn't entirely kicked his fear out the way, and he doubted he would for a while. Owen rubbed his eyes, and wiped any lingering tears away, inadvertently leaving a small trail of blood across his cheek.
"Sh-short term, or l-long term?" Owen asked. Voice still cracked and broken, hands still shaky. He wasn't over this by a long shot, but it was a start. "Cause... cause sh-short term, I need to get this, ah... war wound bandaged up..." Again, a small smile tried to force its way onto Owen's face. This time, however, it stayed there.
"A-aside from that... y-you think we should have a, uh... quick look a-around this place? D-dunno if you noticed... but I haven't been in the b-best mindset so far... So I mighta missed s-something..."
It was a little odd, but Aileen's confidence, be it an act or her true reaction to what was going on around her, managed to lift Owen's spirits a fraction. He still couldn't get the horrible ideas out of his head, that death was inches away from him every second, and of the terrifying unknown void that was death. But he'd been determined seconds ago not to lie down and let death simply come to him. He needed to stay strong, or at least act strong. He knew as well as anyone how much you felt like your character after acting for a while. If Aileen could stay moderately composed through all of this, then he could as well.
Aileen was speaking now, stating that she had only just woken up. She probably hadn't found anything then, yeah. Her head also hurt apparently, which was something Owen could also identify with. His body ached all over, his throat felt tight from the crying and the metal collar which Owen was doing his best not to think about, and his finger...
Owen instinctively put the finger he'd sliced into with his scalpel into his mouth. He'd forgotten all about his self inflicted 'injury'. There were a couple of tiny drops of blood on the dirty floor of the reception. It was hardly a life threatening injury, but still, every drop of blood counted on the island.
Owen let out a sudden, short laugh. Genuine this time. Still morbid humour, just like his previous one. Somehow, Aileen's assured aura had calmed him down somewhat. Owen was beginning to repeat a mantra in his head; if he wanted to survive, he had to be strong. That meant no more crying or giving up. No crying, stay strong. No crying, stay strong...
Aileen asked what they were going to next, and Owen took his finger out of his mouth to consider this. His hands were still shaky. He hadn't entirely kicked his fear out the way, and he doubted he would for a while. Owen rubbed his eyes, and wiped any lingering tears away, inadvertently leaving a small trail of blood across his cheek.
"Sh-short term, or l-long term?" Owen asked. Voice still cracked and broken, hands still shaky. He wasn't over this by a long shot, but it was a start. "Cause... cause sh-short term, I need to get this, ah... war wound bandaged up..." Again, a small smile tried to force its way onto Owen's face. This time, however, it stayed there.
"A-aside from that... y-you think we should have a, uh... quick look a-around this place? D-dunno if you noticed... but I haven't been in the b-best mindset so far... So I mighta missed s-something..."
"bryony and alba would definitely join the terrorists quote me on this put this quote in signatures put it in history books" - Cicada Days, 2017
Aileen raised an eyebrow when Owen's face was decorated with some of his finger's blood. So he already was hurt, but his finger did not look very seriously injured. He joked about the cut, calling it a war wound. Aileen smiled with him, it was amusing to see that he was calm enough to joke about that.
She reached out to his shaky hand and fixed it in order to get a better view. It really did not look serious. Something that she regularly got when she was in the kitched and cut herself with a knife. However, this was a dirty area, and it was possible that Owen's wound needed to be disinfected, especially if he cut himself with something rusty that was scattered around here.
"Hm... first we have to wash that. Then we might have to clean the wound, depending on with what you cut yourself. I know, it usually is not necessary to do that with light wounds like this, but in this situation, we have to be careful. Oh, and add a band-aid. Again, better be cautious here."
This made Aileen feel a lot better. She did something that she was good at. She felt in control, and now her head was much clearer. It was time to set priorities now. Unlike Owen, she was less afraid of death. She was actually rather, and foolishly, certain that she had a fair shot at surviving. I am fit, I can fix injuries, I am smart, I am persuasive, and I am beautiful... The more Aileen thought about it, the more certain she got that winning was more likely than being killed. Of course, there was the thing about having at least one kill. But such concerns were shoved aside for the moment, for they had no place when it's actually time to enjoy the illusions of grandeur. A smile formed on Aileen's face.
It was only now that she let go of Owen's hand.
She reached out to his shaky hand and fixed it in order to get a better view. It really did not look serious. Something that she regularly got when she was in the kitched and cut herself with a knife. However, this was a dirty area, and it was possible that Owen's wound needed to be disinfected, especially if he cut himself with something rusty that was scattered around here.
"Hm... first we have to wash that. Then we might have to clean the wound, depending on with what you cut yourself. I know, it usually is not necessary to do that with light wounds like this, but in this situation, we have to be careful. Oh, and add a band-aid. Again, better be cautious here."
This made Aileen feel a lot better. She did something that she was good at. She felt in control, and now her head was much clearer. It was time to set priorities now. Unlike Owen, she was less afraid of death. She was actually rather, and foolishly, certain that she had a fair shot at surviving. I am fit, I can fix injuries, I am smart, I am persuasive, and I am beautiful... The more Aileen thought about it, the more certain she got that winning was more likely than being killed. Of course, there was the thing about having at least one kill. But such concerns were shoved aside for the moment, for they had no place when it's actually time to enjoy the illusions of grandeur. A smile formed on Aileen's face.
It was only now that she let go of Owen's hand.
Gervais Frans Lambotte Blue Jeans and Bloody Tears Martini-Henry Rifle MkIV Pattern
||Selection|Clicks|Lonely|
Blue Jeans and Bloody Tears Martini-Henry Rifle MkIV Pattern||Selection|Clicks|Lonely|
The cut on Owen's finger wasn't serious and hell, he'd partially been joking about fixing it up at all. He'd got tiny cuts like this before, that hurt a bit and bled a bit, but were barely a concern at all. Hell, he'd managed to cut himself on a cream cheese packet before, by some defiance of nature and physics. It had been enough to get Owen to smile, at least, his current cut, but there was little else of importance about it.
Aileen, however, seemed particularly interested in it. She took hold of Owen's hand, something he hadn't been expecting. Owen looked from his hand, to Aileen's face, then back at his hand, a quizzical look on his own face.
It was only now, really, that Owen realised that Aileen was muttering something. He'd presumed she was talking to herself, but no, the words were directed at him as well. She was talking almost like a proper doctor, or nurse, talking of cleaning the wound and all that, and Owen suddenly remembered another thing about Aileen. She was super interested in medicine and stuff, wasn't she? God, she could stay calm and composed and she knew a little about medicine. Owen knew that he was lucky to have found her, seeing as she'd done more in a few minutes than he'd done in two hours.
Still, the feel of Aileen's hand holding his was another step towards getting his mind back into focus. It was a little weird, but it helped. He'd thought earlier about how no-one would care about what happened to him, and those that did would soon be dead. That wasn't entirely true. People were going to die, yeah. It was a hard truth, and one Owen had to constantly push down and out of his mind. But people were likely to want to live as much as he did, and there were people who were gonna care about what happened to him out there. They would keep fighting, and maybe, maybe by some impossible chance, they'd delay death long enough to get out of here.
Even so, Aileen had been holding his hand a little longer than necessary. Owen was about to say something, although nothing more meaningful than "Uhh...", when Aileen let go. Owen looked first at his hand, then at Aileen with an appreciative smile, then at one of the offices leading off from the reception area.
"S-so, uhhh... I guess that's our first st-stop, huh?" Owen said. "Look for a sink... or something? There's probably one around here s-somewhere. We can look for anything, y'know... useful at the s-same time..."
Aileen, however, seemed particularly interested in it. She took hold of Owen's hand, something he hadn't been expecting. Owen looked from his hand, to Aileen's face, then back at his hand, a quizzical look on his own face.
It was only now, really, that Owen realised that Aileen was muttering something. He'd presumed she was talking to herself, but no, the words were directed at him as well. She was talking almost like a proper doctor, or nurse, talking of cleaning the wound and all that, and Owen suddenly remembered another thing about Aileen. She was super interested in medicine and stuff, wasn't she? God, she could stay calm and composed and she knew a little about medicine. Owen knew that he was lucky to have found her, seeing as she'd done more in a few minutes than he'd done in two hours.
Still, the feel of Aileen's hand holding his was another step towards getting his mind back into focus. It was a little weird, but it helped. He'd thought earlier about how no-one would care about what happened to him, and those that did would soon be dead. That wasn't entirely true. People were going to die, yeah. It was a hard truth, and one Owen had to constantly push down and out of his mind. But people were likely to want to live as much as he did, and there were people who were gonna care about what happened to him out there. They would keep fighting, and maybe, maybe by some impossible chance, they'd delay death long enough to get out of here.
Even so, Aileen had been holding his hand a little longer than necessary. Owen was about to say something, although nothing more meaningful than "Uhh...", when Aileen let go. Owen looked first at his hand, then at Aileen with an appreciative smile, then at one of the offices leading off from the reception area.
"S-so, uhhh... I guess that's our first st-stop, huh?" Owen said. "Look for a sink... or something? There's probably one around here s-somewhere. We can look for anything, y'know... useful at the s-same time..."
"bryony and alba would definitely join the terrorists quote me on this put this quote in signatures put it in history books" - Cicada Days, 2017
Aileen realized that she may have held Owen's hand for a bit too long, but social conventions such as the correct duration of body contact did not matter much in that situation. She nodded when Owen proposed searching for a sink and other useful stuff.
"Good, you look for a sink, and I try to get as much useful stuff as I can get."
She walked to the direction where she came from, and reentered the office she woke up. It was better to check what she actually had already before looking for new things. She sorted through theduffle bag and opened the first aid kit to check what was contained. Looking through these things, she wondered whether it was really that necessary to get extra stuff. It seemed that everything she needed was contained within the duffle bag already. It couldn't hurt to look around though. She took the duffle bag and then searched the room for anything special, but to no avail. Her search continued for a while in another office, but there she aswell only found white papers everywhere.
She was lucky at the receptionist's desk though. It took some force to open some of the drawers, but she found a package of one-use syringes and even a bottle of cough syrup plus three blister packages full of blue-ish pills. She grabbed the items and shoved them into her duffle bag. Of course, taking unknown pills - a plan without flaw or possiblity of error -is an action most people advise against, but you never know.
"I have some stuff, but it is not much. This entire place is empty!"
"Good, you look for a sink, and I try to get as much useful stuff as I can get."
She walked to the direction where she came from, and reentered the office she woke up. It was better to check what she actually had already before looking for new things. She sorted through theduffle bag and opened the first aid kit to check what was contained. Looking through these things, she wondered whether it was really that necessary to get extra stuff. It seemed that everything she needed was contained within the duffle bag already. It couldn't hurt to look around though. She took the duffle bag and then searched the room for anything special, but to no avail. Her search continued for a while in another office, but there she aswell only found white papers everywhere.
She was lucky at the receptionist's desk though. It took some force to open some of the drawers, but she found a package of one-use syringes and even a bottle of cough syrup plus three blister packages full of blue-ish pills. She grabbed the items and shoved them into her duffle bag. Of course, taking unknown pills - a plan without flaw or possiblity of error -is an action most people advise against, but you never know.
"I have some stuff, but it is not much. This entire place is empty!"
Gervais Frans Lambotte Blue Jeans and Bloody Tears Martini-Henry Rifle MkIV Pattern
||Selection|Clicks|Lonely|
Blue Jeans and Bloody Tears Martini-Henry Rifle MkIV Pattern||Selection|Clicks|Lonely|
"R-right. Split up and look for, uh, clues, huh?"
A nervous grin appeared on Owen's face as he nodded at Aileen. He was gonna get this horrific wound sorted out, then find some stuff that could possibly help him and Aileen for the rest of their time on the island. He could do that. Wasn't difficult in the slightest, at least it shouldn't be. It was a task, and now that the task was at the front of his mind, it stopped him from thinking about everything else so much.
Aileen went back in the general direction of where she'd originally emerged from. Owen decided to head off in the opposite direction. It might not have been the greatest plan of all time, splitting up from your only ally instantly, but Owen had spent enough time in hospitals to know just how audible footsteps were. He'd wandered around here earlier, and unless one of his friends was secretly a ninja, no-one had sneaked their way into the building since.
Owen ignored the offices for now. It wasn't likely for there to be any sinks anywhere in them. Instead, he headed towards the emergency rooms, walking slower than he'd have liked. His legs felt like jelly with almost every step. Owen tried his best to ignore the bloodstained gurneys, and the splatters and stains scattered across the floor, but aside from completely closing his eyes, there wasn't much he could do about it. He covered his mouth and nose with his hands, although there was still a weird, unidentifiable smell lingering in the air. The only thing he could do was walk on and try not to think about what had caused the stains.
Owen headed inside the nearest emergency room, noticing in disgust that the first thing he laid eyes upon was another scalpel lying on a gurney. He tried to ignore it, tried to ignore the associated earlier thoughts that came with it, and instead focused on the sink. The taps were stiff, made harder to turn due to Owen's currently weak arms, and only a trickle of water came out when one finally turned, but a tiny amount of water was enough for a tiny amount of blood.
As he walked back to the offices, Owen held his bag in front of him, the first aid kit open inside. He knew Aileen had said to disinfect the wound or something, but really, it had been a tiny cut from his own scalpel. He wasn't gonna catch tetanus or anything. All it needed was a plaster. He had only just finished closing anything and putting the bag onto his back when he heard Aileen calling to him. Apparently she hadn't found anything yet. Owen poked his head into an office and called back, to the best he could.
"Y-yeah, I, uh, haven't found much either yet..." A sudden thought struck Owen. Maybe that second scalpel could be good for something. Or better than nothing at least.
"Hey, uh, Aileen? What, uh... what sorta weapon did you get?"
A nervous grin appeared on Owen's face as he nodded at Aileen. He was gonna get this horrific wound sorted out, then find some stuff that could possibly help him and Aileen for the rest of their time on the island. He could do that. Wasn't difficult in the slightest, at least it shouldn't be. It was a task, and now that the task was at the front of his mind, it stopped him from thinking about everything else so much.
Aileen went back in the general direction of where she'd originally emerged from. Owen decided to head off in the opposite direction. It might not have been the greatest plan of all time, splitting up from your only ally instantly, but Owen had spent enough time in hospitals to know just how audible footsteps were. He'd wandered around here earlier, and unless one of his friends was secretly a ninja, no-one had sneaked their way into the building since.
Owen ignored the offices for now. It wasn't likely for there to be any sinks anywhere in them. Instead, he headed towards the emergency rooms, walking slower than he'd have liked. His legs felt like jelly with almost every step. Owen tried his best to ignore the bloodstained gurneys, and the splatters and stains scattered across the floor, but aside from completely closing his eyes, there wasn't much he could do about it. He covered his mouth and nose with his hands, although there was still a weird, unidentifiable smell lingering in the air. The only thing he could do was walk on and try not to think about what had caused the stains.
Owen headed inside the nearest emergency room, noticing in disgust that the first thing he laid eyes upon was another scalpel lying on a gurney. He tried to ignore it, tried to ignore the associated earlier thoughts that came with it, and instead focused on the sink. The taps were stiff, made harder to turn due to Owen's currently weak arms, and only a trickle of water came out when one finally turned, but a tiny amount of water was enough for a tiny amount of blood.
As he walked back to the offices, Owen held his bag in front of him, the first aid kit open inside. He knew Aileen had said to disinfect the wound or something, but really, it had been a tiny cut from his own scalpel. He wasn't gonna catch tetanus or anything. All it needed was a plaster. He had only just finished closing anything and putting the bag onto his back when he heard Aileen calling to him. Apparently she hadn't found anything yet. Owen poked his head into an office and called back, to the best he could.
"Y-yeah, I, uh, haven't found much either yet..." A sudden thought struck Owen. Maybe that second scalpel could be good for something. Or better than nothing at least.
"Hey, uh, Aileen? What, uh... what sorta weapon did you get?"
"bryony and alba would definitely join the terrorists quote me on this put this quote in signatures put it in history books" - Cicada Days, 2017
((Lauren Rowe continued from Finding Center))
Creepy hospitals weren't Lauren's thing. Biology, human or otherwise, was intriguing, but she had never planned to go pre-med. That was too much pressure, too much emphasis on grades. She'd always figured she'd become an experimenter or researcher, maybe oblige the necessary ribbing about finding a cure for cancer.
It was, well, it was a little discomfiting to think that all that college preparation had gone to nothing. To think that perhaps she should have branched out, made more friends, learned how to meet people, how to read people and figure out when they weren't planning to shoot her in the face.
No. It didn't matter. She would do fine on her own, at least until she found who she was looking for.
She was framed in the entranceway for a moment, blinking to adjust her eyes to the relative darkness of the hospital reception. Plastic chairs, a desk, pieces of a phone on the floor.
Lauren took a step forward before reconsidering. Would any of her softball teammates even step foot in a place like this?
She thought she heard voices, but they were indistinct, unrecognizable. Easy way to find out who they belonged to was to call out. Also stupid. One thing Lauren knew how to do was not draw attention to herself. Nod, don't talk too much, walk away. Those skills weren't helping her find her friends, though.
So she just took a few more silent steps, eyes scanning for signs of life, her shoes picking through the dust.
Creepy hospitals weren't Lauren's thing. Biology, human or otherwise, was intriguing, but she had never planned to go pre-med. That was too much pressure, too much emphasis on grades. She'd always figured she'd become an experimenter or researcher, maybe oblige the necessary ribbing about finding a cure for cancer.
It was, well, it was a little discomfiting to think that all that college preparation had gone to nothing. To think that perhaps she should have branched out, made more friends, learned how to meet people, how to read people and figure out when they weren't planning to shoot her in the face.
No. It didn't matter. She would do fine on her own, at least until she found who she was looking for.
She was framed in the entranceway for a moment, blinking to adjust her eyes to the relative darkness of the hospital reception. Plastic chairs, a desk, pieces of a phone on the floor.
Lauren took a step forward before reconsidering. Would any of her softball teammates even step foot in a place like this?
She thought she heard voices, but they were indistinct, unrecognizable. Easy way to find out who they belonged to was to call out. Also stupid. One thing Lauren knew how to do was not draw attention to herself. Nod, don't talk too much, walk away. Those skills weren't helping her find her friends, though.
So she just took a few more silent steps, eyes scanning for signs of life, her shoes picking through the dust.
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Iceblock. 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.
Aileen stretched her arm out in Owen's direction to answer his question. The black MMA glove on her hand revealed palm and fingers. Additionally, there was a logo on the wrist, showing a stylized piranha. Aileen wiggled with her fingers a bit before lowering her hand again.
"Not as useful as a gun, but better than a joke weapon."
She looked around the office. It was not a pleasant room. It was not well-lit, it only had one exit, and it was too small for her taste. She figured, that if she wanted to survive, she had to care about these things. Therefore she walked to the door, opened it, but when she was about to tell Owen to follow her, she saw someone standing at the entrance.
Which was bad.
Aileen was a person who wanted to have things to be under control. In the best case, her control. Having another person - a stranger, for the most part - suddenly appearing out of nowhere was thus not something Aileen really liked. Even moreso because she was on an island where the laws of society did not apply anymore. It got worse though. Aileen knew that there was quite a bunch of people who did not like her, and she realized that anyone not being a weeping wreak might be someone who wants her dead. Sure, even these people can be dangerous, but at least they - Owen in this case - did not startle Aileen. Aileen got angry now. There was someone, who just appeared out of nowhere, and Aileen had no idea what this person intended to do.
Aileen pointed at the person and a lot of power returned to her voice.
"Who is the one that stands before me, and, which is more important, are there feelings of hatred and ire?"
"Not as useful as a gun, but better than a joke weapon."
She looked around the office. It was not a pleasant room. It was not well-lit, it only had one exit, and it was too small for her taste. She figured, that if she wanted to survive, she had to care about these things. Therefore she walked to the door, opened it, but when she was about to tell Owen to follow her, she saw someone standing at the entrance.
Which was bad.
Aileen was a person who wanted to have things to be under control. In the best case, her control. Having another person - a stranger, for the most part - suddenly appearing out of nowhere was thus not something Aileen really liked. Even moreso because she was on an island where the laws of society did not apply anymore. It got worse though. Aileen knew that there was quite a bunch of people who did not like her, and she realized that anyone not being a weeping wreak might be someone who wants her dead. Sure, even these people can be dangerous, but at least they - Owen in this case - did not startle Aileen. Aileen got angry now. There was someone, who just appeared out of nowhere, and Aileen had no idea what this person intended to do.
Aileen pointed at the person and a lot of power returned to her voice.
"Who is the one that stands before me, and, which is more important, are there feelings of hatred and ire?"
Gervais Frans Lambotte Blue Jeans and Bloody Tears Martini-Henry Rifle MkIV Pattern
||Selection|Clicks|Lonely|
Blue Jeans and Bloody Tears Martini-Henry Rifle MkIV Pattern||Selection|Clicks|Lonely|
Owen tilted his head slightly as he looked at the glove on Aileen's outstretched hand. It was... kinda weird looking, if he had to be honest. It kinda looked like a mix between a less-padded boxing glove and a pair of regular fingerless gloves. The palm of Aileen's hand was visible as well. Owen felt a little stupid, seeing as Aileen had been holding his hand a few minutes earlier, but he hadn't known they were her weapon. He'd simply assumed they were some sort of fashion item.
Aileen seemed fairly satisfied with her weapon, but Owen wasn't so certain. He meant no disrespect to Aileen, but it seemed the gloves would only really be useful on someone with greater strength. He didn't know exactly how strong Aileen was, but he doubted she'd be able to knock someone flat with a single punch, even with the aid of the gloves.
Owen took a quick glance around the office. There wasn't much in it, and there definitely wasn't anything of any use, unless he desperately wanted to take the sheets covering the desks. He'd already checked underneath them, and there had been absolutely nothing there either. His eye was constantly drawn to the shadows of a filing cabinet, in case there was someone hiding behind there. He'd checked it twice already, but even so, he still didn't feel entirely secure.
It was probably best to leave the office if his nerves were returning to their earlier state. Owen guessed they'd be leaving the hospital soon. There wasn't anything else to see; the only thing Owen needed to get was the scalpel from one of the emergency rooms. He turned to leave, only to see Aileen blocking the doorway. Owen instantly felt his heart jump into his throat. There had to be some reason Aileen was doing what she was, and of all the images and ideas that suddenly flooded Owen's mind, none of them were pleasant or welcome.
Aileen's words, although unnecessarily longwinded, clearly told Owen that one of his fears had come true; there was somebody else in the hospital. An involuntary gasp left his mouth, and he swiftly clamped a hand over it. Slowly, Owen tiptoed towards Aileen to try and catch a glimpse of who this person was. He couldn't see the figure properly though, not with Aileen blocking the door. All Owen could do was hope and pray. Hope that the person had only good intentions and pray that they didn't hear the hammering of his heart against his chest.
Aileen seemed fairly satisfied with her weapon, but Owen wasn't so certain. He meant no disrespect to Aileen, but it seemed the gloves would only really be useful on someone with greater strength. He didn't know exactly how strong Aileen was, but he doubted she'd be able to knock someone flat with a single punch, even with the aid of the gloves.
Owen took a quick glance around the office. There wasn't much in it, and there definitely wasn't anything of any use, unless he desperately wanted to take the sheets covering the desks. He'd already checked underneath them, and there had been absolutely nothing there either. His eye was constantly drawn to the shadows of a filing cabinet, in case there was someone hiding behind there. He'd checked it twice already, but even so, he still didn't feel entirely secure.
It was probably best to leave the office if his nerves were returning to their earlier state. Owen guessed they'd be leaving the hospital soon. There wasn't anything else to see; the only thing Owen needed to get was the scalpel from one of the emergency rooms. He turned to leave, only to see Aileen blocking the doorway. Owen instantly felt his heart jump into his throat. There had to be some reason Aileen was doing what she was, and of all the images and ideas that suddenly flooded Owen's mind, none of them were pleasant or welcome.
Aileen's words, although unnecessarily longwinded, clearly told Owen that one of his fears had come true; there was somebody else in the hospital. An involuntary gasp left his mouth, and he swiftly clamped a hand over it. Slowly, Owen tiptoed towards Aileen to try and catch a glimpse of who this person was. He couldn't see the figure properly though, not with Aileen blocking the door. All Owen could do was hope and pray. Hope that the person had only good intentions and pray that they didn't hear the hammering of his heart against his chest.
"bryony and alba would definitely join the terrorists quote me on this put this quote in signatures put it in history books" - Cicada Days, 2017
"No."
Lauren was faintly aware that that didn't answer the whole question, but she didn't elaborate.
Gripping the strap of her bag tighter, she sized up the opposition. They probably weren't hostile, but she couldn't afford to take any more chances, couldn't afford to die right now via stupidity. She'd have all the time to relax later.
The girl was the one to look out for. It didn't take a trained eye to figure out that she was suspicious of Lauren. There was a guy behind her too, though he wasn't very visible. Her eyes just brushed over him, since he wasn't who she was looking for, at least until she realized that she not only recognized him, but knew his name.
Owen Kay. She didn't have to be able to see his face that well; there weren't many people that were half a foot taller than she was.
As for the girl, Aurora came to mind. Same name as the high school.
Her high school. The one she was going to graduate from, the one that was sponsoring the trip she was supposed to be on. A grim smile made its way onto her face. Things had changed quickly.
She managed to say one more thing before any more questions reared their ugly heads.
"Anyone else around?"
Lauren was faintly aware that that didn't answer the whole question, but she didn't elaborate.
Gripping the strap of her bag tighter, she sized up the opposition. They probably weren't hostile, but she couldn't afford to take any more chances, couldn't afford to die right now via stupidity. She'd have all the time to relax later.
The girl was the one to look out for. It didn't take a trained eye to figure out that she was suspicious of Lauren. There was a guy behind her too, though he wasn't very visible. Her eyes just brushed over him, since he wasn't who she was looking for, at least until she realized that she not only recognized him, but knew his name.
Owen Kay. She didn't have to be able to see his face that well; there weren't many people that were half a foot taller than she was.
As for the girl, Aurora came to mind. Same name as the high school.
Her high school. The one she was going to graduate from, the one that was sponsoring the trip she was supposed to be on. A grim smile made its way onto her face. Things had changed quickly.
She managed to say one more thing before any more questions reared their ugly heads.
"Anyone else around?"
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Iceblock. 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.