"Fuck! Stupid fucking - cannon! Shit!▮ ▮▮
▮▮One day you'll be the better enough one to forget. My, I can't say that, Beryl.▮▮ This is a family show...
I don't ▮▮▮▮know if you can ▮▮▮▮ me. I'm not sure if this works,▮▮
▮▮▮Couldn’t you have at least taken off your
▮▮?
So, uh, the hell's going on here?...what the fuck is ▮▮▮
wrong with you, ▮▮Beryl? ▮▮▮heartbeat sounds heartbeat sounds
heartbeat sounds ▮▮▮▮▮▮▮okay. Whenever you're ready, I guess...... It's ▮▮▮.Remind me to return it to you later.Beryl had a chainsaw. She's not waking up. I'm making sure she gets a chance▮▮▮ least an..▮▮▮▮to the be...▮▮y abili▮y, u▮▮▮▮▮▮ some reason we gotta reroll...or else....▮▮▮▮...▮▮▮▮▮..▮▮....ission to kick m▮▮.......▮▮▮▮Any idea what's wrong with her?Explosions would ▮▮▮▮
ruin a party. She has a medical condition,After you, ▮▮▮. Is there anything we can do
for her? I don't know what I would do if something happened...▮▮▮▮▮She seems like she's still breathing so... I...
I should go. my name's H▮▮▮...rks. What's yours? ▮▮but I suppose we have the whole week. "Sorry." ground sounds ▮▮▮You should come to my next one. You'll probably enjoy it. ...▮▮▮▮
looks better on you anyway."
Beryl's eyes opened, barely. Whatever she saw, she was looking for something still further away.
"It's okay," she softly whispered. She didn't know who'd said sorry, or if they were still there. Or if that was what they'd really said.
A clear sky horizon stretched out above her. She watched, fascinated.
dehiscent
open
V8 Vibes:
V7 Vibes:
The sweater? Oh!
It was a point of contact, something to know about this girl. Henry remembered sitting in the auditorium, overhearing Morgan and Jonah trying to sort out what to do with the red sweater they'd found. He'd never found out what happened to it, until now. Not that her choice of outerwear necessarily made her more trustworthy or less likely to start shooting - but it was something. Abraham had already defied expectations; it shouldn't have been much to ask for this girl to hold off on any unnecessary violence?
When's the time for necessary violence, I wonder?
Henry left the hammer of the Punt Gun partially cocked. The trigger was strangely long, and he had the sinking feeling it was particularly sensitive when ready. Not a good thing for a weapon that, as far as he could tell, was several times the diameter of a typical shotgun. He gave a sideways glance to Abraham, whose off-putting and slightly chipper attitude wasn't exactly making things particularly inviting for this stranger. Despite his outward lack of hostility, Henry still didn't entirely trust him. Plus, he had more than enough firepower to hose down everyone here if he really wanted to, if Stargate's depiction of his gun was any indication. Jonah and Beryl were another story entirely, and he breathed a sigh of relief as he caught Beryl begin to mutter something. It wasn't much, but a sign she could regain consciousness at the very least.
Hopefully sooner rather than later. We need to figure this out.
He spoke up to the mystery girl, while continuing to try and corral the group towards the edge of the circle. While it was true they had a considerable number of armaments between the four of them, he seriously doubted they were in the most capable hands. If someone was similarly equipped and actually knew what they were doing, they would still be in considerable danger. Henry's thoughts turned to Abraham, and he instinctually gritted his teeth. He could trust him not to shoot first, but beyond that there was very little he actually knew. Only slightly more than he knew about the scared girl that stood ahead of them.
We need time, and peace. How do we get that?
"Look, I know this is really upsetting. I'm having a hard time keeping it together, myself. But I know I have to try to put a stop to all of this, and I'm going to keep trying as long as I'm alive. It's the hard choice, but it's the right one. It's easier when you've got friends, people who'll watch your back-"
Henry looked to Jonah, then to Beryl, then back to the girl at the edge of the circle.
"-and keep you safe. I don't know you, but I don't think I'm looking at someone who wants to just give up. I don't want to make enemies here. I want us to be friends."
It was a point of contact, something to know about this girl. Henry remembered sitting in the auditorium, overhearing Morgan and Jonah trying to sort out what to do with the red sweater they'd found. He'd never found out what happened to it, until now. Not that her choice of outerwear necessarily made her more trustworthy or less likely to start shooting - but it was something. Abraham had already defied expectations; it shouldn't have been much to ask for this girl to hold off on any unnecessary violence?
When's the time for necessary violence, I wonder?
Henry left the hammer of the Punt Gun partially cocked. The trigger was strangely long, and he had the sinking feeling it was particularly sensitive when ready. Not a good thing for a weapon that, as far as he could tell, was several times the diameter of a typical shotgun. He gave a sideways glance to Abraham, whose off-putting and slightly chipper attitude wasn't exactly making things particularly inviting for this stranger. Despite his outward lack of hostility, Henry still didn't entirely trust him. Plus, he had more than enough firepower to hose down everyone here if he really wanted to, if Stargate's depiction of his gun was any indication. Jonah and Beryl were another story entirely, and he breathed a sigh of relief as he caught Beryl begin to mutter something. It wasn't much, but a sign she could regain consciousness at the very least.
Hopefully sooner rather than later. We need to figure this out.
He spoke up to the mystery girl, while continuing to try and corral the group towards the edge of the circle. While it was true they had a considerable number of armaments between the four of them, he seriously doubted they were in the most capable hands. If someone was similarly equipped and actually knew what they were doing, they would still be in considerable danger. Henry's thoughts turned to Abraham, and he instinctually gritted his teeth. He could trust him not to shoot first, but beyond that there was very little he actually knew. Only slightly more than he knew about the scared girl that stood ahead of them.
We need time, and peace. How do we get that?
"Look, I know this is really upsetting. I'm having a hard time keeping it together, myself. But I know I have to try to put a stop to all of this, and I'm going to keep trying as long as I'm alive. It's the hard choice, but it's the right one. It's easier when you've got friends, people who'll watch your back-"
Henry looked to Jonah, then to Beryl, then back to the girl at the edge of the circle.
"-and keep you safe. I don't know you, but I don't think I'm looking at someone who wants to just give up. I don't want to make enemies here. I want us to be friends."
-
MurderWeasel
- Posts: 2566
- Joined: Thu Aug 09, 2018 1:37 am
Darlene looked from stranger to stranger to girl lying there to Jonah. They had all just introduced themselves and she hadn't paid any attention at all and now she didn't know their names fifteen seconds later because she was stupid! The shortest, skinniest boy with the biggest gun was coming closer, talking to her, saying things that she was trying to listen to, sort of, but she wasn't finding total success.
One thing got through, though: he said he didn't think Darlene wanted to give up. That showed that he knew nothing. Nothing! Darlene wanted absolutely nothing more than to just give up and lie down and have that be it. Except, the problem was that wouldn't just be it. She would lie in the dirt for a while, probably wriggling around trying to get comfortable but failing because the ground was covered in rocks and twigs and bugs, and then someone would come and hurt her or take her things. The alternative was staying upright and conscious and aware, which would have more or less the same ultimate end, but slightly later.
Her eyes flicked to the guns around her, and then to her revolver. Actually, come to think of it? She could shoot herself. That was an option! But, Darlene usually tried not to read the really horrible things on Wikipedia late at night, and mostly she didn't read that much about these terrorist attacks at all, but she'd definitely ended up on a page about forms of suicide once, and it had talked about the rate of success for shooting yourself, and it was high but not perfect. In fact, you were like a thousand times more likely to not die from shooting yourself than you were to be kidnapped by terrorists to fight to the death. And these topics were pretty linked in her mind (which, she suddenly realized, would go splashing all over if she did it right in lumpy pinkish-grey chunks) because she'd clicked a few more links and had read about this boy in one of the old versions who tried to kill himself cleanly but messed up and lobotomized himself or something so his friends had to put him down, and they took a little bit to do that. That sounded worse than basically anything anyone else could do to her.
So maybe Darlene didn't exactly want to give up, then. Or she did, but in a very safe, controlled circumstance. Or if she was making wishes, she wished they would all get rescued. That had happened before. She would never sleep well ever again in her life, no matter what, ever, but that was okay.
She was kind of leaning back and forth and sniffing and could taste something salty, so she wiped her right hand over her face a few times to clear some of the tears and gunk, and she sniffed, which made a bit of phlegm empty from her sinuses into the back of her throat, and then she had to swallow it down. She looked at Jonah again.
"T-thanks," she said. His hair was dyed a pretty color of blue. Darlene thought mostly strange colors of hair dye were for punks and delinquents but maybe she was wrong. He was wearing a shirt like the ones she'd seen in Walgreens stores but it was all wet and clung to his body and that made her a little uncomfortable because he must have been chilly. He looked kind of fit compared to the shorter boys. "I bet you'd look good too, though."
Oh no.
That wasn't exactly what she'd meant to say. That sounded weird. There were so many things about that that were weird. It was awkward and horrible because she'd said he'd look good in a girl's sweater, except actually it was pretty gender-neutral, but also she was talking about his clothes in general which were clinging to him and he was probably cold. Her throat felt gooey. The other boy with the huge gun had said he wanted to be friends. Darlene was really not sure that now was the time to be making friends.
She looked back at him. She'd totally ignored him for a while and that wasn't good either. She hated this. She hated talking to people.
"We..." she started, and swallowed again but just spit this time. "We can try?"
One thing got through, though: he said he didn't think Darlene wanted to give up. That showed that he knew nothing. Nothing! Darlene wanted absolutely nothing more than to just give up and lie down and have that be it. Except, the problem was that wouldn't just be it. She would lie in the dirt for a while, probably wriggling around trying to get comfortable but failing because the ground was covered in rocks and twigs and bugs, and then someone would come and hurt her or take her things. The alternative was staying upright and conscious and aware, which would have more or less the same ultimate end, but slightly later.
Her eyes flicked to the guns around her, and then to her revolver. Actually, come to think of it? She could shoot herself. That was an option! But, Darlene usually tried not to read the really horrible things on Wikipedia late at night, and mostly she didn't read that much about these terrorist attacks at all, but she'd definitely ended up on a page about forms of suicide once, and it had talked about the rate of success for shooting yourself, and it was high but not perfect. In fact, you were like a thousand times more likely to not die from shooting yourself than you were to be kidnapped by terrorists to fight to the death. And these topics were pretty linked in her mind (which, she suddenly realized, would go splashing all over if she did it right in lumpy pinkish-grey chunks) because she'd clicked a few more links and had read about this boy in one of the old versions who tried to kill himself cleanly but messed up and lobotomized himself or something so his friends had to put him down, and they took a little bit to do that. That sounded worse than basically anything anyone else could do to her.
So maybe Darlene didn't exactly want to give up, then. Or she did, but in a very safe, controlled circumstance. Or if she was making wishes, she wished they would all get rescued. That had happened before. She would never sleep well ever again in her life, no matter what, ever, but that was okay.
She was kind of leaning back and forth and sniffing and could taste something salty, so she wiped her right hand over her face a few times to clear some of the tears and gunk, and she sniffed, which made a bit of phlegm empty from her sinuses into the back of her throat, and then she had to swallow it down. She looked at Jonah again.
"T-thanks," she said. His hair was dyed a pretty color of blue. Darlene thought mostly strange colors of hair dye were for punks and delinquents but maybe she was wrong. He was wearing a shirt like the ones she'd seen in Walgreens stores but it was all wet and clung to his body and that made her a little uncomfortable because he must have been chilly. He looked kind of fit compared to the shorter boys. "I bet you'd look good too, though."
Oh no.
That wasn't exactly what she'd meant to say. That sounded weird. There were so many things about that that were weird. It was awkward and horrible because she'd said he'd look good in a girl's sweater, except actually it was pretty gender-neutral, but also she was talking about his clothes in general which were clinging to him and he was probably cold. Her throat felt gooey. The other boy with the huge gun had said he wanted to be friends. Darlene was really not sure that now was the time to be making friends.
She looked back at him. She'd totally ignored him for a while and that wasn't good either. She hated this. She hated talking to people.
"We..." she started, and swallowed again but just spit this time. "We can try?"
Beryl had gone up and thus Beryl went down, Beryl stirred a bit so she at least she like, hadn't died while everyone was paying attention to the fuckin' riveting sweater talk instead of her. Abe wasn't complaining, because like, he'd rather the bush mouse be focused on whatever trivial bullshit she was clinging to with Jonah instead of all the guns that were around her - jesus did Jonah have a gun in his pants or was he just happy to see them, that joke didn't really work because the gun was like by his ass but it wouldn't have been funny even if it had been perfectly executed, so who gave a shit.
Oh no. Henry was giving a little speech. Henry was a friendly man. Henry was a friendship man. Hoo boy, Henry was a friendly friendship ambition man who wanted to do something. What did he mean, 'put a stop to all this'? That was the sorta talk that got you blown the fuck up, unless he had a degree in McGuyver that was also hidden in his pants. The chainsaw shit with his shotgun was kinda clever and had taken balls, sure, but it had also been completely bugshit nuts, and if that's the material he was workin' with Abe wasn't sure he wanted to see the outcome of whatever other plans he was gonna pull out of his ass.
Whatever, he was still trying to act natural. "Hell yeah. I am like, overflowing with love for humanity as a whole right now. We are allllllll brothers and sisters right now. Nothing but good buddy vibes coming from me, yo," Abe said, completely deadpan. Smiling hadn't really worked out for him, so he didn't even try.
You know what's really tragic? That was natural. That was just, like, how Abe operated. What a shithead, right?
Oh no. Henry was giving a little speech. Henry was a friendly man. Henry was a friendship man. Hoo boy, Henry was a friendly friendship ambition man who wanted to do something. What did he mean, 'put a stop to all this'? That was the sorta talk that got you blown the fuck up, unless he had a degree in McGuyver that was also hidden in his pants. The chainsaw shit with his shotgun was kinda clever and had taken balls, sure, but it had also been completely bugshit nuts, and if that's the material he was workin' with Abe wasn't sure he wanted to see the outcome of whatever other plans he was gonna pull out of his ass.
Whatever, he was still trying to act natural. "Hell yeah. I am like, overflowing with love for humanity as a whole right now. We are allllllll brothers and sisters right now. Nothing but good buddy vibes coming from me, yo," Abe said, completely deadpan. Smiling hadn't really worked out for him, so he didn't even try.
You know what's really tragic? That was natural. That was just, like, how Abe operated. What a shithead, right?
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Ruggahissy
- Posts: 1593
- Joined: Mon Aug 13, 2018 4:13 pm
I don't really think so.
Jonah was startled when he heard Beryl respond. He slumped backwards from his former position on knees onto his butt and his shoulders sagged in relief. He threw a thumbs up.
Henry started addressing the group. Jonah wasn't really sure what he meant by "putting a stop to all of this." He proposed that they all be friends and looked at him and Beryl saying they should be safe. Jonah gave a discreet, nonplussed look to Beryl.
They both had a lot of height, weight and muscle mass on Henry. Regarding friendship, while Jonah didn't have anything specifically against anyone in present company...
Maybe working together was the goal. Sure, he wanted friends, but this seemed like an inhospitable environment for that and he was dead anyway.
That last thought springing up so naturally startled him. He had been doing so well for so long. He had worked so hard to climb out of that pit. Push it away for now. Deal with it later.
Darlene said that the sweater probably looked good on him and he forgot that he had actually worn it around his neck for a good amount of the time that he'd been looking for the owner. Again, this brightened him a bit and he couldn't stop a bit of an embarrassed giggle. "I looked okay."
Abe's deadpan sliced through the orange glow of memories from home like a knife. Jonah studied him and something popped and clicked into place. "Abraham....Wantanabe..." he said slowly with realization. "The grocery store! Your family runs the grocery story that's been in town forever. I've seen you there. You’re a hard worker.”
The information wasn't really all that important, but it served as another grounding point and kind of calmed him a little. He reached for his own bag with a steadier hand now, and opened it, but tried not to be too rough as Beryl was still using it as a pillow. "No offense, but I don't....really care about being safe. I want to find Arizona and Abel. But, you guys should definitely be safe. Really. It's safer to find some place to secure than to go out looking for people," he said, sliding the map out of his bag.
Jonah was startled when he heard Beryl respond. He slumped backwards from his former position on knees onto his butt and his shoulders sagged in relief. He threw a thumbs up.
Henry started addressing the group. Jonah wasn't really sure what he meant by "putting a stop to all of this." He proposed that they all be friends and looked at him and Beryl saying they should be safe. Jonah gave a discreet, nonplussed look to Beryl.
They both had a lot of height, weight and muscle mass on Henry. Regarding friendship, while Jonah didn't have anything specifically against anyone in present company...
Maybe working together was the goal. Sure, he wanted friends, but this seemed like an inhospitable environment for that and he was dead anyway.
That last thought springing up so naturally startled him. He had been doing so well for so long. He had worked so hard to climb out of that pit. Push it away for now. Deal with it later.
Darlene said that the sweater probably looked good on him and he forgot that he had actually worn it around his neck for a good amount of the time that he'd been looking for the owner. Again, this brightened him a bit and he couldn't stop a bit of an embarrassed giggle. "I looked okay."
Abe's deadpan sliced through the orange glow of memories from home like a knife. Jonah studied him and something popped and clicked into place. "Abraham....Wantanabe..." he said slowly with realization. "The grocery store! Your family runs the grocery story that's been in town forever. I've seen you there. You’re a hard worker.”
The information wasn't really all that important, but it served as another grounding point and kind of calmed him a little. He reached for his own bag with a steadier hand now, and opened it, but tried not to be too rough as Beryl was still using it as a pillow. "No offense, but I don't....really care about being safe. I want to find Arizona and Abel. But, you guys should definitely be safe. Really. It's safer to find some place to secure than to go out looking for people," he said, sliding the map out of his bag.
Henry was about to answer the other girl, before hearing something so inane he could only hang his head. Really? Day one, this was all you had? The worse parts of him wanted to curse out Abraham for more or less undermining the spirit of what he'd been trying to say by virtue of being a prick.
There are more important things right now.
His eyes widened as he heard Jonah rebuff him in his own way, declaring his intention to find Abel and Arizona rather than to find any kind of safety. Though he didn't say it, he knew very well that absolutely nowhere was safe, not even relatively so. It was a wonder that the terrorists had gotten through any of their previous versions without a malfunction or some kind of signal interference killing half of the students on the island. Fortifying a location only worked so far, until they decided to flip it to a danger zone. That always meant shifting locations, which meant running into people was inevitable.
Surely you realize that?
Henry scanned the map, reading the various labels of locations, and taking note of any natural features that seemed useful. At this point the best thing he could suggest was elevated ground. If they moved in that direction, they'd eventually reach the north end of the island. It wasn't far from the pier and apparently, a capsized yacht. Still he tried not to think of what kind of people lived here before.
It seems to attract a type, if the cages are any indication. Where the hell-
The yacht had to find its way here, wherever here was. There was information there, and more information meant less to fear. Before nightfall, Henry knew he had to reach it.
Somehow keep people from killing each other as far as I'm able as well.
Rubbing his eyes, he looked to the others. The girl who still hadn't identified herself had come closer, but she seemed to still be in a state of shock.
She'd probably want to find somewhere to hole up. A lot of people would. That's the problem with that idea.
Abraham hadn't presented a friendly face, nor had he started shooting. Jonah seemed altogether fatalistic about this situation and Beryl - still didn't seem okay. Henry knelt next to the map, and pointed to locations as he spoke. He motioned for the small girl to come and look at the map as well.
"So we're here, far as I can tell. If we loop around the edge of the lake, we can head north into the woods. It's an incline in that direction, so we'll have more lead time if anyone approaches and it'll be easier to see anyone you might be looking for. Safety's relative, but it's by and large about how much information you have and as far as I can tell, how many guns you've got. I'm not afraid to die, but if I'm going to it's going to be for something. I want to..."
They're listening. They're always listening.
"...I want you to find them, Jonah. We'll all be better off if we have the same goal."
Escape. I'll be alone in this. I have to be.
There are more important things right now.
His eyes widened as he heard Jonah rebuff him in his own way, declaring his intention to find Abel and Arizona rather than to find any kind of safety. Though he didn't say it, he knew very well that absolutely nowhere was safe, not even relatively so. It was a wonder that the terrorists had gotten through any of their previous versions without a malfunction or some kind of signal interference killing half of the students on the island. Fortifying a location only worked so far, until they decided to flip it to a danger zone. That always meant shifting locations, which meant running into people was inevitable.
Surely you realize that?
Henry scanned the map, reading the various labels of locations, and taking note of any natural features that seemed useful. At this point the best thing he could suggest was elevated ground. If they moved in that direction, they'd eventually reach the north end of the island. It wasn't far from the pier and apparently, a capsized yacht. Still he tried not to think of what kind of people lived here before.
It seems to attract a type, if the cages are any indication. Where the hell-
The yacht had to find its way here, wherever here was. There was information there, and more information meant less to fear. Before nightfall, Henry knew he had to reach it.
Somehow keep people from killing each other as far as I'm able as well.
Rubbing his eyes, he looked to the others. The girl who still hadn't identified herself had come closer, but she seemed to still be in a state of shock.
She'd probably want to find somewhere to hole up. A lot of people would. That's the problem with that idea.
Abraham hadn't presented a friendly face, nor had he started shooting. Jonah seemed altogether fatalistic about this situation and Beryl - still didn't seem okay. Henry knelt next to the map, and pointed to locations as he spoke. He motioned for the small girl to come and look at the map as well.
"So we're here, far as I can tell. If we loop around the edge of the lake, we can head north into the woods. It's an incline in that direction, so we'll have more lead time if anyone approaches and it'll be easier to see anyone you might be looking for. Safety's relative, but it's by and large about how much information you have and as far as I can tell, how many guns you've got. I'm not afraid to die, but if I'm going to it's going to be for something. I want to..."
They're listening. They're always listening.
"...I want you to find them, Jonah. We'll all be better off if we have the same goal."
Escape. I'll be alone in this. I have to be.
-
MurderWeasel
- Posts: 2566
- Joined: Thu Aug 09, 2018 1:37 am
Darlene wanted to say that Jonah should care about being safe. Because he should! But she was still feeling weird about what she'd said about the sweater, and he'd played it off so nicely, and she wasn't his mom. She didn't want to sound like that, or for him to think she was a busybody, and she also didn't really want to speak up more than she had to because the other boy, the one who had a gun that was bigger than Darlene's but smaller than the guy with the map's, he'd made fun of the whole friendship thing and even if Darlene thought it was sort of childish too she wasn't going to say that. And he just came out and mocked it! So if she said something to Jonah maybe he'd make fun of her more directly, and then...
She didn't know. She was afraid of a lot of things, and being made fun of shouldn't have been one of them anymore but it still was. She tried to smile at Jonah but mostly just sort of looked at him and let her lips waver. Then she made her way the rest of the way over and joined in looking over the map.
She didn't drop her gun, of course, or put it away or anything. She didn't forget about it. She just let it hang there in her left hand. Darlene wasn't left-handed, which seemed like it should be reassuring to everyone; they'd know that she was just keeping it close, not ready to aim it or anything, just in case, except most likely nobody knew or cared that she was right-handed and she didn't want to just blurt it out.
Maybe it didn't matter anyways. Everyone was talking about how they weren't afraid, or at least acting like that, making jokes and poking fun and laying plans, and that made Darlene feel even smaller than she was, which was the smallest person here in terms of height even if she wasn't as skinny as some of the others. How could they be so brave now?
In fact, Darlene thought she was being really, really brave just coming out of the bushes. Maybe more than that, even. Maybe stupid. It had turned out okay, but that didn't mean it had been a good choice, and now they wanted to go out and look for other people and help them.
That was a good goal at least, right? And she had a name for the jerk, now, slowly filtering into her consciousness: he was Abraham, like Abraham Lincoln. That would be easy to remember. He'd worked in a grocery store. Had Darlene been there? Maybe. She didn't go shopping a lot these days, unless her family wanted to on the way to or from somewhere, and when she saw people from school in the world outside of it she mostly tried to avoid them.
The last boy whose name she still didn't know was saying he wanted to help Jonah too, and that gave her pause for a second, made her think. The school was full of people who weren't like this. It was full of people who stomped around and hit each other and screamed horrible things and slammed their lunchboxes on the table in the middle of the day for no reason at all. She thought maybe even Abraham might be like that, and shot him a look out of the corner of her eye, just for a moment, quick so if he caught her it'd look like just an accident or like she was looking around just a bit squinty. But they had this group and these guns and a plan, and the girl on the ground might need help still anyways, and what better shot was there going to be?
The strange scaffolding that Darlene had seen from far away was easier to make out now. It was cages. Cages in the water, big enough even to fit a person inside.
"I am afraid to die," she said very quietly, "but I want to help too."
She didn't know. She was afraid of a lot of things, and being made fun of shouldn't have been one of them anymore but it still was. She tried to smile at Jonah but mostly just sort of looked at him and let her lips waver. Then she made her way the rest of the way over and joined in looking over the map.
She didn't drop her gun, of course, or put it away or anything. She didn't forget about it. She just let it hang there in her left hand. Darlene wasn't left-handed, which seemed like it should be reassuring to everyone; they'd know that she was just keeping it close, not ready to aim it or anything, just in case, except most likely nobody knew or cared that she was right-handed and she didn't want to just blurt it out.
Maybe it didn't matter anyways. Everyone was talking about how they weren't afraid, or at least acting like that, making jokes and poking fun and laying plans, and that made Darlene feel even smaller than she was, which was the smallest person here in terms of height even if she wasn't as skinny as some of the others. How could they be so brave now?
In fact, Darlene thought she was being really, really brave just coming out of the bushes. Maybe more than that, even. Maybe stupid. It had turned out okay, but that didn't mean it had been a good choice, and now they wanted to go out and look for other people and help them.
That was a good goal at least, right? And she had a name for the jerk, now, slowly filtering into her consciousness: he was Abraham, like Abraham Lincoln. That would be easy to remember. He'd worked in a grocery store. Had Darlene been there? Maybe. She didn't go shopping a lot these days, unless her family wanted to on the way to or from somewhere, and when she saw people from school in the world outside of it she mostly tried to avoid them.
The last boy whose name she still didn't know was saying he wanted to help Jonah too, and that gave her pause for a second, made her think. The school was full of people who weren't like this. It was full of people who stomped around and hit each other and screamed horrible things and slammed their lunchboxes on the table in the middle of the day for no reason at all. She thought maybe even Abraham might be like that, and shot him a look out of the corner of her eye, just for a moment, quick so if he caught her it'd look like just an accident or like she was looking around just a bit squinty. But they had this group and these guns and a plan, and the girl on the ground might need help still anyways, and what better shot was there going to be?
The strange scaffolding that Darlene had seen from far away was easier to make out now. It was cages. Cages in the water, big enough even to fit a person inside.
"I am afraid to die," she said very quietly, "but I want to help too."
Always felt weird getting compliments from strangers who only knew Abe as "that nice boy from the grocery store." Almost as weird as being called by his full name - shit, not even his parents called him Abraham unless he'd fucked up somehow. Yeah, he was sure they - and Jonah - were just tryin' to be nice, but it always felt phony. Or maybe he was just phony. He sure as shit wasn't a hard worker. Like, yeah, he tried, he tried harder than he did at most things just because, like, the store was kinda was his parent's life, he wasn't gonna fuck that up by being a scowling slacker, but he still wasn't the employee of the month or anything, right?
He wondered how the store would do without him, how long it'd take his parents to bring themselves to hire someone to replace him, or maybe they wouldn't hesitate at all, it's not like he wanted them to, if they could be like, fuckin' pragmatic that'd be great, right, it's not like he wanted them to fuckin' care so much about him that they'd be so crushed by his disappearance that the whole damn business would come crashing down around them, goddammit that line of thinking was dangerous dangerous dangerous he could feel a little something in his eyes or maybe his heart and his breath caught for a second and no one could know, he couldn't let anyone know, he'd just been cracking jokes like a dipshit five seconds ago he couldn't just go from that to breaking down sobbing, like what the fuck kinda rollercoaster would that even be, you fuckin' weirdo?
Just had to concentrate on how much his body was screaming at him instead of his brain. His feet hurt from all the walk-running. His bag was digging into his shoulder. The gun was heavy. He could put them down, he could sit, he could lounge, like Jonah, like Beryl (haha that was one word for what she was doing, wasn't it) just relax for a bit - but he couldn't. Like it felt like they were all past the point of the bush mouse putting them in physical danger, that was good, he wasn't really worried about relaxing and getting got in the back of the head or some shit, the problem was getting got by his own head. Thought was the enemy. Thoughts about home, thoughts about all the shiny extra supplies in his bag, thoughts about Forrest, thoughts about the gun that was making his arm ache a bit.
Yeah, Abe was a miserable son of a bitch in a lot of ways, wasn't he? Haha.
Henry was going on about plans and shit but Abe wasn't really paying attention. If everyone started walking, he'd follow 'em for now, and that's all he really needed to know. Especially since he was taking some new psychic damage from the little mouse with her sincerity and quiet determination; making him feel a pang of shame. There he was with his jokes and coping mechanisms and layers upon layers of irony armor, and then she just came out and said the quiet part out loud. She was scared. Everyone was scared. But she'd be brave. What sorta asshole wouldn't be touched at least a little bit by that?
"Yeah, yeah, I'll stick around," he said, halfheartedly pledging his help while still doubling down on the dismissiveness; because it's not like there were any brakes for the trainwreck that was him.
He wondered how the store would do without him, how long it'd take his parents to bring themselves to hire someone to replace him, or maybe they wouldn't hesitate at all, it's not like he wanted them to, if they could be like, fuckin' pragmatic that'd be great, right, it's not like he wanted them to fuckin' care so much about him that they'd be so crushed by his disappearance that the whole damn business would come crashing down around them, goddammit that line of thinking was dangerous dangerous dangerous he could feel a little something in his eyes or maybe his heart and his breath caught for a second and no one could know, he couldn't let anyone know, he'd just been cracking jokes like a dipshit five seconds ago he couldn't just go from that to breaking down sobbing, like what the fuck kinda rollercoaster would that even be, you fuckin' weirdo?
Just had to concentrate on how much his body was screaming at him instead of his brain. His feet hurt from all the walk-running. His bag was digging into his shoulder. The gun was heavy. He could put them down, he could sit, he could lounge, like Jonah, like Beryl (haha that was one word for what she was doing, wasn't it) just relax for a bit - but he couldn't. Like it felt like they were all past the point of the bush mouse putting them in physical danger, that was good, he wasn't really worried about relaxing and getting got in the back of the head or some shit, the problem was getting got by his own head. Thought was the enemy. Thoughts about home, thoughts about all the shiny extra supplies in his bag, thoughts about Forrest, thoughts about the gun that was making his arm ache a bit.
Yeah, Abe was a miserable son of a bitch in a lot of ways, wasn't he? Haha.
Henry was going on about plans and shit but Abe wasn't really paying attention. If everyone started walking, he'd follow 'em for now, and that's all he really needed to know. Especially since he was taking some new psychic damage from the little mouse with her sincerity and quiet determination; making him feel a pang of shame. There he was with his jokes and coping mechanisms and layers upon layers of irony armor, and then she just came out and said the quiet part out loud. She was scared. Everyone was scared. But she'd be brave. What sorta asshole wouldn't be touched at least a little bit by that?
"Yeah, yeah, I'll stick around," he said, halfheartedly pledging his help while still doubling down on the dismissiveness; because it's not like there were any brakes for the trainwreck that was him.
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Ruggahissy
- Posts: 1593
- Joined: Mon Aug 13, 2018 4:13 pm
Jonah leaned over and looked at the map Henry was referencing. There was no way for Henry to know the path he was suggesting was an incline, the map didn't seem to have any topographical markings aside from some locations being called "lower" or "higher" which meant nothing for the surrounding areas. The darker areas meant more tress, didn't they? They would only definitely be above the lower wilds which seemed to be a beach anyway and not part of the forest.
He must think I'm stupid.
But Jonah looked up at Darlene and he couldn't stop admiration he felt for her from replacing his suspicion. He also heard Abraham kind of resign himself to staying with them. This was as stable a situation as they could hope for and everyone was still trying to get a grip. No one was trying to shoot anyone else despite the ample equipment and opportunity and they were trying to make sense of this. He'd pull Henry aside later. For now he just nodded at Henry curtly and said "Alright."
He didn't know why Henry wanted to go to the northern woods, but they were definitely going to have a talk about it. Jonah would have made faster time running around alone, but who was to say Arizona and Abel weren't in the forest, as well as....
"That- that makes you the most brave," he said to Darlene, standing up. "Being brave isn't about doing things you're not afraid of. It's about being terrified of something and doing it anyway because it's right, right? I'm....so honored that you want to use that bravery to help me. So ah, thank you," he said. "Thank you both," he said, scratching his head and smiling.
Abraham's words were something similar, Jonah thought. He went from "Friendship is dumb" to "I guess I'll stay" and Jonah felt like underneath it was the same kind of sentiment as Darlene, but that's just how you said it in Abraham-ese. Jonah took off his soggy t-shirt which was wet with kind of gross pond water and rung it out on the dirt. They could start moving whenever Beryl felt well enough to move.
He must think I'm stupid.
But Jonah looked up at Darlene and he couldn't stop admiration he felt for her from replacing his suspicion. He also heard Abraham kind of resign himself to staying with them. This was as stable a situation as they could hope for and everyone was still trying to get a grip. No one was trying to shoot anyone else despite the ample equipment and opportunity and they were trying to make sense of this. He'd pull Henry aside later. For now he just nodded at Henry curtly and said "Alright."
He didn't know why Henry wanted to go to the northern woods, but they were definitely going to have a talk about it. Jonah would have made faster time running around alone, but who was to say Arizona and Abel weren't in the forest, as well as....
"That- that makes you the most brave," he said to Darlene, standing up. "Being brave isn't about doing things you're not afraid of. It's about being terrified of something and doing it anyway because it's right, right? I'm....so honored that you want to use that bravery to help me. So ah, thank you," he said. "Thank you both," he said, scratching his head and smiling.
Abraham's words were something similar, Jonah thought. He went from "Friendship is dumb" to "I guess I'll stay" and Jonah felt like underneath it was the same kind of sentiment as Darlene, but that's just how you said it in Abraham-ese. Jonah took off his soggy t-shirt which was wet with kind of gross pond water and rung it out on the dirt. They could start moving whenever Beryl felt well enough to move.
‘Their' conversation- that shared among the others, Beryl did not know if she was part of 'they'- concluded, and all things did naturally conclude.
The ground underneath her was solid as any clump of coincidentally coherent vibrations could be- that was rare, Beryl knew. Most all the universe was dissolute, empty space claiming to be the foundations of reality. Much as she herself in that moment was indeed mostly empty and hollow, if picked apart piece by piece, stripped bare, laid aside with none of the pretensions left of whatever it had been she had called... life, that was it. Something to experience, up until that experience stopped. For now, specifically, she still dwelled among the living.
Them too. 'They' being the others who were not inclusive of she- unless they wanted otherwise, she supposed.
Her thoughts, anyways, were enough in-order that she couldn't really follow any one of them as they spiraled off into the Picasso Escher Dali's worth of void that existed in all the odd existential gaps within her space of mind. She followed the conversation through to it's logical conclusion...
"I don't think dying is what we should be afraid of... or, as it is. Uh. Brave, in the face of."
And past. Beryl rolled up with her abdomen, idly adjusting her awkwardly all over the place hemlines so they all covered what they were supposed to. According to society, though Beryl supposed that in this place society was somewhat less meaningful a concept.
She glanced up at the sky first. Bright like sunflowers, or like the odd shade of chartreuse. Still too early in the day to be wondering, it seemed.
Then she glanced at the others, and put on her best smile, which was her usual smile, which wasn't much of a smile at all in the first place.
"The guns. Do you guys know how to use them?" She paused in serene decoration of her own thoughts as they struggled to reach a conclusion. "I don't remember seeing any of you at the range before." She didn't remember any of them in the first place, now that she thought about it. She probably did know them, just not at this moment in time. In the past? Maybe. In the future...
Maybe.
The ground underneath her was solid as any clump of coincidentally coherent vibrations could be- that was rare, Beryl knew. Most all the universe was dissolute, empty space claiming to be the foundations of reality. Much as she herself in that moment was indeed mostly empty and hollow, if picked apart piece by piece, stripped bare, laid aside with none of the pretensions left of whatever it had been she had called... life, that was it. Something to experience, up until that experience stopped. For now, specifically, she still dwelled among the living.
Them too. 'They' being the others who were not inclusive of she- unless they wanted otherwise, she supposed.
Her thoughts, anyways, were enough in-order that she couldn't really follow any one of them as they spiraled off into the Picasso Escher Dali's worth of void that existed in all the odd existential gaps within her space of mind. She followed the conversation through to it's logical conclusion...
"I don't think dying is what we should be afraid of... or, as it is. Uh. Brave, in the face of."
And past. Beryl rolled up with her abdomen, idly adjusting her awkwardly all over the place hemlines so they all covered what they were supposed to. According to society, though Beryl supposed that in this place society was somewhat less meaningful a concept.
She glanced up at the sky first. Bright like sunflowers, or like the odd shade of chartreuse. Still too early in the day to be wondering, it seemed.
Then she glanced at the others, and put on her best smile, which was her usual smile, which wasn't much of a smile at all in the first place.
"The guns. Do you guys know how to use them?" She paused in serene decoration of her own thoughts as they struggled to reach a conclusion. "I don't remember seeing any of you at the range before." She didn't remember any of them in the first place, now that she thought about it. She probably did know them, just not at this moment in time. In the past? Maybe. In the future...
Maybe.
V8 Vibes:
V7 Vibes:
Henry nodded as Jonah seemed to acquiesce to the plan he'd suggested. At the very least, Jonah didn’t say it was a terrible idea. That would be good enough, for now.
Elevation is maybe a tactical advantage, and we might get a better lay of the land. Not much of an advantage though, and it isn’t like any of us are soldiers, guns or not.
Pushing the useless self-doubt aside, Henry broke out into his characteristic bright smile as he heard Jonah’s words to sweater-girl. For a moment he’d gotten the sense that Jonah was lapsing into hopelessness, given what he’d said about not wanting to find safety. It was important that they didn’t fall into that trap, even though they might’ve all seemed doomed at a glance. Everyone who’d ever escaped from a dangerous situation probably thought that at one point or another.
At least Jonah seemed to know how to check his more negative impulses. They were all going to need to do that if they had any hope of survival. The moment that any one of them truly gave up, or decided that murder was their only option – they’d drag the rest of the group down with them. Either he’d have to find a way to convince the others to cut them loose, or head out on his own before cynical nihilism overcame them. Neither option was tenable.
Another problem. Keep spirits up. Probably will have to keep working on it even if we escape. Probably for the rest of my life.
At the sound of Beryl’s voice, Henry’s face lit up with his characteristic cheery smile. Her words didn’t quite add up to a complete sentence, but it was something. Making sure not to point the end of the gun at anyone, he turned to Beryl and saw her seem to return to consciousness – it was a bit like watching a computer boot up.
“Hey, Beryl! It’s me, Henry. We had AP Physics together? I’m glad you’re finally awake.”
She asked about the guns, and mentioned a range.
Then she knows what she's doing. If she can stay awake and aware, we might have struck gold here.
Henry looked down a the unwieldy monstrosity that seemed to be towing the line between a gun and a cannon. It wasn't a Punt Gun anymore, not in the traditional sense. It seemed like it needed some sort of more apt name, but nothing immediately came to him.
Other than a big fucking gun?
“Well, I know how to use this uhh, thing, I think. I don’t know if range time would help with something like this. Honestly I don’t even know what’s going to happen when I pull the trigger. Nothing good. The other guns are probably more well adapted to being fired by… well, human beings.”
Elevation is maybe a tactical advantage, and we might get a better lay of the land. Not much of an advantage though, and it isn’t like any of us are soldiers, guns or not.
Pushing the useless self-doubt aside, Henry broke out into his characteristic bright smile as he heard Jonah’s words to sweater-girl. For a moment he’d gotten the sense that Jonah was lapsing into hopelessness, given what he’d said about not wanting to find safety. It was important that they didn’t fall into that trap, even though they might’ve all seemed doomed at a glance. Everyone who’d ever escaped from a dangerous situation probably thought that at one point or another.
At least Jonah seemed to know how to check his more negative impulses. They were all going to need to do that if they had any hope of survival. The moment that any one of them truly gave up, or decided that murder was their only option – they’d drag the rest of the group down with them. Either he’d have to find a way to convince the others to cut them loose, or head out on his own before cynical nihilism overcame them. Neither option was tenable.
Another problem. Keep spirits up. Probably will have to keep working on it even if we escape. Probably for the rest of my life.
At the sound of Beryl’s voice, Henry’s face lit up with his characteristic cheery smile. Her words didn’t quite add up to a complete sentence, but it was something. Making sure not to point the end of the gun at anyone, he turned to Beryl and saw her seem to return to consciousness – it was a bit like watching a computer boot up.
“Hey, Beryl! It’s me, Henry. We had AP Physics together? I’m glad you’re finally awake.”
She asked about the guns, and mentioned a range.
Then she knows what she's doing. If she can stay awake and aware, we might have struck gold here.
Henry looked down a the unwieldy monstrosity that seemed to be towing the line between a gun and a cannon. It wasn't a Punt Gun anymore, not in the traditional sense. It seemed like it needed some sort of more apt name, but nothing immediately came to him.
Other than a big fucking gun?
“Well, I know how to use this uhh, thing, I think. I don’t know if range time would help with something like this. Honestly I don’t even know what’s going to happen when I pull the trigger. Nothing good. The other guns are probably more well adapted to being fired by… well, human beings.”
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MurderWeasel
- Posts: 2566
- Joined: Thu Aug 09, 2018 1:37 am
Abraham would stay too. Maybe he wasn't such a jerk after all, or maybe being a jerk was different from being the sort of person to tell someone like Jonah to just go off and die without offering help. This was a concept that caused Darlene a little trouble; she tended to assume that people who were bad in little ways were also bad in the major ones, and avoided them accordingly. But she didn't have too much time to pursue this line of questioning, because Jonah was saying way, way too nice things about her.
Darlene wasn't the bravest! Getting some credit was nice, and especially from Jonah who she was sure actually meant it, but he was saying he didn't care what happened to him, he was going to try to do what was right. That was way braver than just wanting to try. Darlene couldn't imagine Jonah running away if things got tough or scary. She could definitely imagine running away herself, though. She got so flustered sometimes that she once spent most of her lunch hiding behind some chairs in the auditorium. That wasn't brave at all!
"I, uh, I," she said, and she stopped and thought for a whole three seconds, and hated that it took her that long to put her words in order. "I'm not really special but thank you for having me along."
And then, the girl and the last unknown boy were talking and introducing each other. Beryl and Henry. Those seemed like they were names Darlene could keep straight, maybe. She had some association with "Henry," like she might have maybe once heard it in a story, but she couldn't remember what about or who wrote it or if that Henry was a good guy or a bad one.
At least she had an answer all ready for Beryl.
"Yeah," Darlene said, quietly but with as much confidence as she could, "I know how to use it really well."
This was a total and complete lie! Darlene had read just enough of the manual to figure out how to get the bullets in, but she had never ever touched a gun before today. She'd read a little about them online, once, but she didn't have a good memory for models and numbers and that sort of thing. She thought this was a cowboy gun, a six-shooter, mostly because that wasn't hard to figure out at all, and if they were using these back in cowboy days it had to be pretty easy to understand, didn't it?
But more than that, Darlene didn't trust Beryl. Not one bit. The girl had been all passed out and now she was up and about and said dying wasn't what to be afraid of, and then wanted to talk about the guns right away. She hadn't said anything about what was going on with her, and she was weird, and Darlene didn't exactly want a gun but she wanted to have one more than she wanted to not, and least of all did she want someone she didn't trust having a gun. It wasn't just about her, she told herself. A gun in someone else's hands could also be dangerous to Jonah. Or Henry or Abraham. If they wanted to give Beryl their guns, Darlene wasn't going to be happy but it would be their decision, but she wasn't going to make that mistake, nuh uh no way.
She was making circles in the ground with her right foot and looking at the way the grass bent and the dirt moved. The plants were getting all churned up and she thought maybe she should stop because she was killing them or messing them up for no reason, but she just kept doing it. Her breathing was more or less normal again, and her vision was a lot clearer but her glasses were still smudged all along the bottom, but it took both hands to clean them and she wasn't going to put the gun down or even back in her bag for a little while, not when they'd just been talking about their weapons. She wasn't very interested in what everyone else had to say about their guns, though it was a little strange how almost all of them had them but one, like even the people who put them here thought Beryl wasn't super trustworthy.
When Darlene was a kid, she used to sometimes sit outside at lunch and pull leaves off weeds and peel the veins out of each one. Then she'd tear them into littler and littler pieces and then hold her palm up to her mouth and blow them all away.
Darlene wasn't the bravest! Getting some credit was nice, and especially from Jonah who she was sure actually meant it, but he was saying he didn't care what happened to him, he was going to try to do what was right. That was way braver than just wanting to try. Darlene couldn't imagine Jonah running away if things got tough or scary. She could definitely imagine running away herself, though. She got so flustered sometimes that she once spent most of her lunch hiding behind some chairs in the auditorium. That wasn't brave at all!
"I, uh, I," she said, and she stopped and thought for a whole three seconds, and hated that it took her that long to put her words in order. "I'm not really special but thank you for having me along."
And then, the girl and the last unknown boy were talking and introducing each other. Beryl and Henry. Those seemed like they were names Darlene could keep straight, maybe. She had some association with "Henry," like she might have maybe once heard it in a story, but she couldn't remember what about or who wrote it or if that Henry was a good guy or a bad one.
At least she had an answer all ready for Beryl.
"Yeah," Darlene said, quietly but with as much confidence as she could, "I know how to use it really well."
This was a total and complete lie! Darlene had read just enough of the manual to figure out how to get the bullets in, but she had never ever touched a gun before today. She'd read a little about them online, once, but she didn't have a good memory for models and numbers and that sort of thing. She thought this was a cowboy gun, a six-shooter, mostly because that wasn't hard to figure out at all, and if they were using these back in cowboy days it had to be pretty easy to understand, didn't it?
But more than that, Darlene didn't trust Beryl. Not one bit. The girl had been all passed out and now she was up and about and said dying wasn't what to be afraid of, and then wanted to talk about the guns right away. She hadn't said anything about what was going on with her, and she was weird, and Darlene didn't exactly want a gun but she wanted to have one more than she wanted to not, and least of all did she want someone she didn't trust having a gun. It wasn't just about her, she told herself. A gun in someone else's hands could also be dangerous to Jonah. Or Henry or Abraham. If they wanted to give Beryl their guns, Darlene wasn't going to be happy but it would be their decision, but she wasn't going to make that mistake, nuh uh no way.
She was making circles in the ground with her right foot and looking at the way the grass bent and the dirt moved. The plants were getting all churned up and she thought maybe she should stop because she was killing them or messing them up for no reason, but she just kept doing it. Her breathing was more or less normal again, and her vision was a lot clearer but her glasses were still smudged all along the bottom, but it took both hands to clean them and she wasn't going to put the gun down or even back in her bag for a little while, not when they'd just been talking about their weapons. She wasn't very interested in what everyone else had to say about their guns, though it was a little strange how almost all of them had them but one, like even the people who put them here thought Beryl wasn't super trustworthy.
When Darlene was a kid, she used to sometimes sit outside at lunch and pull leaves off weeds and peel the veins out of each one. Then she'd tear them into littler and littler pieces and then hold her palm up to her mouth and blow them all away.
Was Jonah thanking Abe? What the fuck? Why? What the hell had he ever done that deserved commendation? Like, the dude was in the middle of his weird sappy-eyed sincerity speech singing the virtues of the Darlene-mouse (the gimmick was wearing thin, he would've thought) and yeah, she kind of deserved it, and she seemed like the kinda girl who was desperate for reassurance, but Abe? He was doing the bare fuckin' minimum. It's not like he particularly wanted to get shat on for his noncommittal assholery, even though it would've been like, the reasonable reaction, and jesus, where the hell did Jonah get off? Pretending like Abe was an admirable person who wasn't carrying a stolen gun with a bunch of extra goodies in his bag. Asshole.
Abe just awkwardly scratched the back of his neck in response to the praise and let the matter drop. Beryl had graduated from stirring to sitting and honestly seemed less out of it than Jonah, and Abe wasn't sure if that was due to her mental fortitude or his Jonah-ness.
"Yeah, man. You just like, rooty-tooty-point-and-shooty, and boom. Three-sixty noscope. Yeah? I'm Abe. Howdy." It sounded like babbling, but he'd meant to say every distinct word in that shitty sentence, because his sense of humor had gone terminal years ago. If only he still had his Dew, he could've really hammered in the fucking montage joke there. That was his only regret in life.
Henry went on for a bit about how shitty his gun probably was, like no shit dude, you hacked it up like a psycho. It'd be hilarious if it just like blew the fuck up the first time he tried to shoot it, except not really because then Henry wouldn't have hands or a life anymore, probably. Even in its diminished form the gun still looked kinda like a fukken loony-toon cannon, and Abe fantasized for a moment about sticking his finger - nah, his hand - down the barrel and making it backfire. The-the-the-the-the-the-the (how many fucking thes were there again) that's all folks! That's all it takes to end a life! Witness, the hammer of mortality has swung backwards and beaned its wielder in the brain!
Anyways.
Darlene was either a liar or a badass and Abe wasn't sure which option scared him more.
Abe just awkwardly scratched the back of his neck in response to the praise and let the matter drop. Beryl had graduated from stirring to sitting and honestly seemed less out of it than Jonah, and Abe wasn't sure if that was due to her mental fortitude or his Jonah-ness.
"Yeah, man. You just like, rooty-tooty-point-and-shooty, and boom. Three-sixty noscope. Yeah? I'm Abe. Howdy." It sounded like babbling, but he'd meant to say every distinct word in that shitty sentence, because his sense of humor had gone terminal years ago. If only he still had his Dew, he could've really hammered in the fucking montage joke there. That was his only regret in life.
Henry went on for a bit about how shitty his gun probably was, like no shit dude, you hacked it up like a psycho. It'd be hilarious if it just like blew the fuck up the first time he tried to shoot it, except not really because then Henry wouldn't have hands or a life anymore, probably. Even in its diminished form the gun still looked kinda like a fukken loony-toon cannon, and Abe fantasized for a moment about sticking his finger - nah, his hand - down the barrel and making it backfire. The-the-the-the-the-the-the (how many fucking thes were there again) that's all folks! That's all it takes to end a life! Witness, the hammer of mortality has swung backwards and beaned its wielder in the brain!
Anyways.
Darlene was either a liar or a badass and Abe wasn't sure which option scared him more.
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Ruggahissy
- Posts: 1593
- Joined: Mon Aug 13, 2018 4:13 pm
Beryl said something that was sort of confusing which made sense since she'd just woken up. Jonah didn't dwell on it, especially since the next thing she said was very clear and relevant. He didn't really like the way she said she didn't remember seeing them at the range. He had, in fact, been to a shooting range, but only once. His bio mom took him when he was very young, around 11, just before he was adopted. She thought it might be an activity they could enjoy together. It was one of the few times she tried to make such an attempt and would have stuck out in his mind for that reason alone, had the experience not also made an impression. They put big ear protector things on him and gave him a little instruction. Even with the ear muffs on it felt like the whole building was going to come down when someone took a shot. Jonah was incredibly nervous when they put the revolver in his hand. He fired at the target down at the other end of the building and managed to hit the paper, but not the outline of the person on the paper. When they brought the paper back to them, his mom had signed it for him. "I <3 you, mom." It was an off-putting momento.
"I ain't never been, no" he said, looking down at his hands before ringing out the wet shirt. He heard birds chirping from the trees, lively. He was conscious of the sun on his bare back. Jonah picked some plant off his shoulder that must have gotten stuck to him when he was in the pond.
But then Darlene said she also had experience with guns. She looked to be kind of shy about it, but he could understand people being modest.
"Wow, that's great," he said to both girls. "Maybe you can give the rest of us some lessons?" he suggested, pulling the big gun out of his pants and testing its weight in his hands. "This is a crummy situation, but we're really lucky to end up with a group of level-headed people where all of us but Beryl managed to get guns right off the bat."
He stuck the gun back into the back of his jeans and grabbed Abe's hand, shaking it vigorously.
"Nice to meet you, Abe," he said, with a calm cheerfulness. He realized he didn't know the red sweater girl's name. "And you too, um...." he said, waiting expectantly for Darlene to finish the sentence with her name.
"I ain't never been, no" he said, looking down at his hands before ringing out the wet shirt. He heard birds chirping from the trees, lively. He was conscious of the sun on his bare back. Jonah picked some plant off his shoulder that must have gotten stuck to him when he was in the pond.
But then Darlene said she also had experience with guns. She looked to be kind of shy about it, but he could understand people being modest.
"Wow, that's great," he said to both girls. "Maybe you can give the rest of us some lessons?" he suggested, pulling the big gun out of his pants and testing its weight in his hands. "This is a crummy situation, but we're really lucky to end up with a group of level-headed people where all of us but Beryl managed to get guns right off the bat."
He stuck the gun back into the back of his jeans and grabbed Abe's hand, shaking it vigorously.
"Nice to meet you, Abe," he said, with a calm cheerfulness. He realized he didn't know the red sweater girl's name. "And you too, um...." he said, waiting expectantly for Darlene to finish the sentence with her name.
She searched Henry's eyes, drowned slightly in the color of the sea and storm. Like hurricane clouds, whipping waves like an egg beater. She liked that image, to be caught in a storm would have been quaintly calm at this point in time, all things considered. Guns talking silent, winds screeching loud.
"It was a fun class," she responded in a confessional whisper. "We should go stargazing someday." There were few somedays left, she supposed. But they might have had time- time was only a matter of reference. The story of their class would last days in the playback, but take years to live through.
The guns were more self-explanatory. She recognized every one except the strangely-cut barrel that Henry had in both hands. Her gaze was both of her eyeballs plucked from the custard of her brain and neatly rested onto the belt loop of Jonah's pants- she'd appreciated the crass metaphor. Gun in pants. Put it where I can see it. It struck her as funny, much as she was unsure about the whole 'laughing' thing nowadays or in general.
"Tighten your fist, thumb further down." Or she might drop it when firing, might hurt her wrist. "And don't angle the barrel against yourself."
The girl with the sweater, name ethereal as the aether itself, might just have forgotten her supposed expertise in that moment. Beryl wouldn't presume anything in particular.
"Testing everything out seems like a good idea, at any rate."
Beryl stood, taking an exploratory step first to make sure she was steady. The earth was welcoming, stable underfoot as she dragged each ankle separately, warming unused tendons.
"It was a fun class," she responded in a confessional whisper. "We should go stargazing someday." There were few somedays left, she supposed. But they might have had time- time was only a matter of reference. The story of their class would last days in the playback, but take years to live through.
The guns were more self-explanatory. She recognized every one except the strangely-cut barrel that Henry had in both hands. Her gaze was both of her eyeballs plucked from the custard of her brain and neatly rested onto the belt loop of Jonah's pants- she'd appreciated the crass metaphor. Gun in pants. Put it where I can see it. It struck her as funny, much as she was unsure about the whole 'laughing' thing nowadays or in general.
"Tighten your fist, thumb further down." Or she might drop it when firing, might hurt her wrist. "And don't angle the barrel against yourself."
The girl with the sweater, name ethereal as the aether itself, might just have forgotten her supposed expertise in that moment. Beryl wouldn't presume anything in particular.
"Testing everything out seems like a good idea, at any rate."
Beryl stood, taking an exploratory step first to make sure she was steady. The earth was welcoming, stable underfoot as she dragged each ankle separately, warming unused tendons.
V8 Vibes:
V7 Vibes: