Rigor Samsa

[Emprexx Plush]

Nick talked. Like the sound of his own voice, prolly. Not somethin' Jeremiah could understand. Fella who weren't lookin' at no one seemed 'bout the same. Jeremiah sighed, put the hammer back. Looked t' Nia. "SAME," he gestured 'tween Nick and the other one. "HE--SUCK--HE--SUCK--SAME. PICK--BAD--PEOPLE. DISAPPOINT." There was some teasin' in it. Could almost smile. Havin' someone t' chat with worked wonders on his mood.

Nick was an asshole. Nia didn't want him beat though, second fella didn't have no problems neither. Maybe he didn't understand. Maybe they didn't. Whole lotta big thoughts swirlin' 'round, didn't happen t' him too often. Thoughts 'bout how back home, didn't go for violence often. Didn't like it when he did. Nothin' got solved. Gave Nick a couple stiff ones jus' a few days ago, hadn't done nothin' t' solve the hurt he'd caused. Same as any other bully. Weren't no use is raisin' hands, life marched on the same whether you did or not. There was consequences, too, probably would have been some if he and Nick really went at it, or if he took a shot at one a' the Carters, somethin' dumb like that, he'd get hollered at by somebody. Worse, prolly. Ignore all that. Say he could take a swing, fix somethin', and get away with it. What sorta man would that make him? Who sorta person hurt people to get his way? Sorta person Jeremiah was most afraid a' bein'. Hated the thought. Hated it was in him when those dots lined up. Tried not t' think 'bout it too much at home.

Weren't home no more though. Wouldn't be again without hurtin' some people, so that answered what sorta man he'd be: a live one. Weren't nobody in charge t' holler at him neither, so the question that kept comin' back t' him was whether he could solve somethin' here. Thought he could. Crack Nick's skull in a couple pieces and he wouldn't hurt nobody. Same for Tirzah, and for anybody else startin' trouble.

Maybe they didn't need t' start. Maybe bein' here was trouble enough.

Grimaced. Nia would know better, and she told him t' stop. Ask her 'bout it when this blew over. For now he stepped away from the door, eyes on Nick. "Go."

[Fenris]

"Please, for the sake of my continued, if relative, sanity, just shut up and sit down and let me explain." That is what Nia would have said if she were able, or signed if her hand wasn't occupied, but for her purposes she thought the scathing look she shot Jeremiah probably conveyed the general message just fine. The smile she gave him maybe undercut the message a tad, but it was difficult to resist. It was comforting, in a way, for him to be acting so much like himself despite the circumstances.

She did appreciate Alexander's attempts to keep the peace, though considering he'd spoken more than a sentence she knew it was just going to irritate Jeremiah further. Nick, for his part, seemed disinclined to escalate the situation, and Jeremiah had taken her advice. The only risk at this point was that one of the pair of Nick and Jeremiah was lying. Jeremiah would likely sign to her to indicate if that was the case so she'd be ready; Nick she had no such assurance from, he could easily be lying to get their guards down, but she didn't believe that to be the case. If she were wrong again she'd have to seriously re-evaluate her ability to read situations. As it were, she felt safe enough to click the safety back on on her gun and slide it back into her pocket, her eyes still trained on Nick's every movement, just in case.

She'd circled around to the wall beside the door, on the side where Alexander had taken shelter. Her instinct, as she approached him, was to tap his shoulder, but considering the tension in the air she decided it was against her interests to potentially startle him. Instead she lifted her fist to knock on the wall beside him softly, three times in succession, to alert him of her presence, before looking at Nick and nodding toward the door, a clear and unambiguous message of agreement with Jeremiah's one-word statement.

[General Goose]

Nick hated everyone in this room right now. There he was, near the doorway, the undeniable centre of attention and centre of gravity in this room, and for someone who had an almost animalistic craving for the spotlight and for attention, Nick hated it. This was not the sort of attention that he enjoyed. It put him on the defensive. Made him antsy. Prone to lashing out. Prone to making impulsive decisions, fuelled by a righteous indignation, that made no sense in the long-term. At the very least, Nick had matured enough to the level that he was capable of recognising just how unsuited he was for such situations.

He was most angry at Alex. He was the one who'd tried robbing him. The one who'd been the first to suggest he left immediately - without the rest, recuperation or moment of peace and security that he needed to stay sane. And why? Alex wasn't embroiled in the rivalries and dramas that gave Jeremiah cause to hate him (as disproportionate as his responses were), wasn't partisan in this matter as Nia was. No, Alex had decided, based on some snivelling and misdirected survival instinct, to join in on the ostracising of Nick.

"If I want your opinion, Alex, I'll give you the signal, which is me being diagnosed with a psychosis." Nick scowled, repurposing another Thick of It quote, this time out loud. "And for what it's worth, your well wishes don't mean shit." If it had been just Alex alone, he probably would have said that he wasn't going, and then tip-toed away, letting the bastard stew in his own confusion for a few moments. But alas, no. There were other people around. Nick still didn't feel like giving them the dignity of any actual attention, though. It was easier to pick on Alex, too. It was a coward's defence, a bully's defence, even, but Nick didn't have any hesitation in allowing himself these small and ultimately harmless pleasures.

"You guys manage to make me look pleasant in comparison. That's an accomplishment."

And with that, he picked up his things and left.

"Hope to hear your names in the morning!"

((Nick Ogilvie continued in ][.))

[dmboogie]

Ah - Nia (presumably) had made her way to Alexander's side. He smiled slightly, unperturbed even as Nick unleashed a hurricane's worth of hot air as he made his furious exit. They'd need to have a serious discussion once all the fuss died down, but for the moment it was strangely comforting to know she was by him. High-stress situations accelerated the bonding process, he supposed.

Once the last echoes of Nick's blustering had faded, Alexander sighed. "What an irritating man." Nick did, unfortunately, have a point and the mythical moral high ground, but did he really have to take the whole ordeal so personally? Alexander certainly hadn't been offended by the failure of his plan, at least not until Lizzie turned from an annoyance into an inconvenience. Maybe they'd all finally have a chance to relax. He elected to remain standing for a while longer - his rear was still rather sore.

"Nia - thank you for playing along, back there, and I'm sorry for making a mess of things without consulting you." No reason to let their newest new arrival know exactly what had gone down, at least not without taking the time to gauge his intentions.

"Jeremiah - are you feeling any more talkative now?" He was the only one among them with eyes and a voice, and it'd be rather inconvenient if he chose to continue speaking one terse word at a time.

[Emprexx Plush]

"No."

Wouldn't be a surprise if they knew a thing 'bout each other. Jeremiah weren't in no mood t' explain. Waste a' words on someone they probably weren't gonna see again. "WHO?" Pointed to Alexander after the sign. 'fore she answered he looked t' the door. "WHY--YOU--HERE? WE--GO?" Nick might change his mind, round back after he thought they forgot him. Seemed like it'd upset Nia t' hurt him for some reason, so he didn't wanna be here if he came back through.

[Fenris]

The tension in the room deflated like a neglected balloon.

Nia exhaled, slowly, finally as safe as she could ever assume herself to be in this situation. Alexander was harmless, for all intents and purposes. Jeremiah would never harm her, or at least he wouldn't until doing so became entirely necessary, a possibility she saw no reason to entertain at this point in time. She tapped Alexander's shoulder in a mindless gesture of reassurance before turning her attention fully to Jeremiah, who evidently still had no intention of being particularly cooperative. Introductions had to be made, plans had to be laid out. He would understand.

There was a momentary temptation spurred by his signs. The urge to take her belongings and leave with the person she trusted most. Who was Alexander to her, really? Was her incidental fondness a strong enough basis for an extended partnership? But she remembered the guilty ache that had squeezed her guts on the beach as she'd palmed the gun that had been gifted to him, and she set those feelings aside. For now, he was not a liability.

"A-L-E-X-A-N-D-E-R," Nia spelled after gesturing to the boy in question. "ALEXANDER." The name she invented for him was perhaps a bit inappropriate, modifying the word BLIND to use the handshape for the letter A, but she had neither the time, energy nor inclination to bother with nuance at the moment; it wasn't as though he had means by which to be aware of the faux pas.

"HE--SMART. USEFUL. WE--STAY. SIT. TELL--HIM."

Jeremiah acquiesced with a simple "we're staying, sit down," aimed at Alexander. A minimal conversation, but that was necessary so long as Alexander was kept in the dark as to their circumstances. There was plenty more to discuss, but to do so right now was likely to cause problems. She paused for a moment and despite herself added the things she most needed to say, her hands moving hurriedly.

"HAPPY--YOU--HERE. WISH--YOU--HOME. BUT. YOU--HERE. WE--TOGETHER. YES?"

She didn't wait for an answer before taking Alexander's arm and leading him toward the bench where their bags sat, nearly forgotten in the commotion that had defined the last half hour or so. She spent the moments it took, moments spent facing away from Jeremiah, clearing her expression of the emotions she felt threatening to flood it. Jeremiah had seen her in her darkest moments, knew her worst and most painful thoughts and feelings, would not fault her or look away. Alexander would not know. It was not their judgment she feared.

After depositing Alexander safely in his seat she retrieved the paper and markers she'd dropped on the ground and returned to her own place beside him.

"I--WRITE. TELL--HIM."

He did. And she wrote, the message eventually delivered in Jeremiah's apathetic deadpan.

Hello, Alexander. I feel it only polite to greet you properly after everything that has happened so far. I will attempt not to make this message too long as I'm certain Jeremiah is already annoyed with me. He is perhaps not the best choice for an interpreter but I love him dearly and so he will have to do.

For the time being the three of us should stay together and stay put. Jeremiah and I are well-armed and having been in the back room I believe the warehouse to be an easily defensable position as there is only one door and plenty of items that could be used to barricade it. If we take turns keeping watch we ought to be safe until morning at which point we can plan to ideally move somewhere less populated. The village is likely to become a bloodbath over time. Alexander, I recognize travelling outside of the village is difficult for you, but I noticed earlier the curtain rods in here are a good size and shape to be used as a replacement for your cane. Jeremiah, if you would help me take one down for him I would appreciate it.

Also, Alexander, that stunt you attempted earlier was very clever and your bravery is notable. Do not do it again.

[dmboogie]

As frustrating as it was for Alexander to deal with Jeremiah's refusal to engage in the slightest bit of conversation, it was a refreshing break from the much larger crises they had just weathered. The other boy was still an unknown, but despite his severe antisocial tendencies he seemed safe enough.

Jeremiah informed Alexander that the group would be staying together as Nia led him back to his seat, stringing a miraculous four words together in a sentence, including a significant 'we.' It was almost disconcerting. The reason for his suddenly talkative mood became clear when he shared the news that Nia was writing a message.

He could extrapolate several things from that. One - Nia was giving Jeremiah directions, and his willingness to follow them implied some degree of familiarity. To give directions, you had to be able to express them, so two - it followed that anyone who cared about Nia would probably have learned at least rudimentary sign language. The two could have entire conversations with Alexander being none the wiser, making less noise than even passing notes would.

The thought was somewhat unnerving, but they had little to gain through betraying him that they couldn't obtain by simply robbing or shooting him. Well, save for maybe throwing him to the wolves in an emergency, and he certainly hoped they wouldn't keep him around for such a crass abuse of his person. It was something he couldn't forget, but not something he should dwell on, either.

He waited patiently for Nia to finish her message, then listened carefully as Jeremiah read it out loud - his dispassionate tone perhaps more distracting than even a text-to-speech program. Still, it was the first time he'd had a chance to get a sense for her 'voice', and she interested him. She was eloquent and just a bit wordy. Making up for lost time, perhaps? More and more, he got the sense that they could have easily been friends, but there'd just never been a reason to surmount the communication barrier between them.

He also finally had confirmation of the other two's relationship - dear friends, if not lovers. The specifics didn't matter, just the loyalty inherent to their bond. If it ever came down to a choice, both would choose each other in a heartbeat over Alexander. He couldn't blame them - he was growing fond of Nia, but he wouldn't hesitate to trade her for any one of his band mates. They would likely have several days before that started becoming a serious concern.

Surprisingly, his horrid mugging attempt had seemed to actually impress her. He'd take what he could get, and would just have to make sure the next time he did something 'clever', they got a better reward than a kick in the ass.

"Hello, Nia," Alexander said again, smiling tiredly. "It's good to finally hear from you. I believe your idea is sound, and I would certainly appreciate being able to move around on my own. And yes, you have my word that I won't pull something like that again. At least, not without your permission."

He didn't want to get used to simply nodding along with anyone's plans, but it had already been an exhausting afternoon, and Nia's strategy didn't seem to have any glaring flaws or room for obvious improvement. Spending the evening with a mute girl and a boy who had no interest in talking to him didn't sound riveting, but he was sure many of his classmates would be having much, much less pleasant experiences.

"Finally, thank you for interpreting, Jeremiah. We'll probably have to call upon you again in the future - my apologies in advance." The boy had clearly been unhappy and his delivery had been lacking as a result, but Alexander still appreciated his service - and it'd be good for everyone if he felt appreciated.

[Emprexx Plush]

Hated this kid. Hadn't known him but 15 minutes tops, but he hated him. Talked and dressed like he thought he's important; who the hell wears a tie for a two day bus ride? Couldn't wear that all the time, no point. Makin' some kinda point maybe. Jeremiah didn't get it. Weren't a new experience, but it made him wanna lash out again here. 'specially this 'we' stuff, like he was entitled to ask Jeremiah for shit. He didn't know him. Didn't owe him a thing, not if he understood right. From everythin' Jeremiah had to spell out, whatever went down with Nick was Alex's fault. Coulda got Nia hurt and all he had for it was jokes. Smug motherfucker. If somethin' happened t' her because of him, Jeremiah'd-

Stood up. Walked to the other side of the room, put his head against the wall. Breathed.

In.

Out.

In.

Out.

Weren't like him. Whatever this was, it weren't like him. Been gettin' real loose with it since he woke up and maybe there was a time and place for that, but it weren't now. Alex didn't need hurtin'. Nia'd taken a shine t' him. Didn't say much good for him. She liked plenty of assholes. Jeremiah was one of 'em. Still. Didn't need t' hurt him or nobody else who didn't take the first swing.

Could do that. Not much harder than home. Couldn't be.

Jeremiah approached the group again, didn't look at Alexander or say nothin'. Waved for Nia. ""YOU--WRITE--LONG. HARD--VOICE. PLEASE--WRITE--SHORT--FUTURE."

[Fenris]

It occurred to Nia that the only thing holding this group together was her own willful stubbornness.

It would have to do.

Alexander, for his part, seemed relatively unperturbed by Jeremiah's unenthusiastic performance of her words, and responded to them as though it was nothing unusual. She was rapidly getting the sense that his unflagging politeness would have quickly become exhausting in any other situation. But in a realm where any level of hostility could and would rapidly devolve into actual violence, his calm affect was to some degree reassuring. That she held a gun and he did not was of significantly more value in calming her nerves, of course, but she would accept comfort where she could.

Jeremiah had never had any interest in that sort of civility. It masked reality and filled the air with meaningless noise. He had to take a moment. Nia waited for him, nodding at his request; she couldn't make promises, but she could make an effort. Her thought processes invited a certain kind of verboseness, but she could metaphorically muzzle herself for the sake of his sanity.

"COME-ON. WE--GET--CURTAIN--ROD. TELL--HIM."

He did, in typically terse fashion, and she led him in silence into the kitchen. The dining room had its own windows, but they were smaller, the curtain rods far too short for Alexander's purposes. Besides which, despite Alexander's obvious inability to perceive any part of their conversations, Nia still felt compelled to put some distance between them before telling Jeremiah what he needed to know. She took in the kitchen again, its scattered supplies and utensils, and she reminded herself that she needed to take better inventory of them. Chastized herself for how little attention she was paying to them now.

There was so much she ought to do before the light disappeared from the sky, but her exhaustion was finally overpowering the shot of adrenaline Nick's appearance had provided. She could search in the dark with her flashlight if she needed to. For now what she needed more than anything was to rest.

Before Jeremiah reached for the curtain rod, which would necessarily take up at least one of his hands, she waved and quickly imparted the facts of most immediate import.

"WAKE--UP--ON--BEACH. TOGETHER. ALEXANDER--ASLEEP. TAKE--GUN." She gestured, somewhat unnecessarily, to the gun in her pocket. "ALEXANDER--NOT--KNOW. MINE--NOW."

She frowned as she paused, trying to think of how to word the rest. She didn't expect him to understand, least of all to agree, but at the very least she felt he deserved to understand her thought process.

"ALEXANDER--BLIND. WEAK. NO--WEAPON. I--TAKE. I--RESPONSIBLE. UNDERSTAND?" There was barely any pause before she added the rest, the more logical reasons, the ones Jeremiah might more readily to agree to. "ALEXANDER--SMART. GOOD-AT--TALK. USEFUL. WHEN--NOT--USEFUL? WE--GO. YES?"

Jeremiah seemed... well. To say he seemed happy with that explanation would be to willfully ignore how unhappy Jeremiah was with everything at the moment, but at the very least he seemed to accept it for the time being. She imagined he might have more opinions on the matter when he was less tired than he clearly was. She supposed all of them could do with some proper rest. They would have to secure the storeroom first, and the thought of that particular task was threatening to sap the energy she had remaining, but they would make due, one way or another.

The curtain rod was a bit out of Nia's reach, but easily within Jeremiah's. The action naturally removed the curtain from the window, an unfortunate but necessary side effect. She tested the window and found it didn't budge at her attempts to open it, presumably due to years of disuse. It was possible someone stronger than her could dislodge it, and likely that someone could shatter the glass with a gunshot or heavy object. Another good reason for them to hole up in the warehouse; unfortunately it also made for a good reason for her to not wait until nighttime to search the kitchen for supplies, as the flashlight would easily attract attention from beyond the window.

Everything a potential complication, always.

She walked with slightly louder steps than perhaps necessary toward Alexander, constantly conscious of the possibility of startling him. He clearly took note of her reemergence from the kitchen, and so she did not concern herself with that possibility further as she approached, motioning toward Jeremiah to hand the curtain rod over.

[dmboogie]

Once more, the lack of any response from Jeremiah was unpleasant, but Alexander had already learned to expect nothing from him. He tried not to let his irritation warp his face - the boy was far dearer to Nia than Alexander would ever be, so there was no sense in antagonizing him more than he apparently already had by behaving like an ordinary, civilized member of society.

There was an uncomfortably long silence, enough that Alexander felt certain he was being left out of a conversation, but he breathed a little easier when Jeremiah said they were going to grab the curtain rod for him. He was a bit irritated with himself - why was his mind so set on finding treachery in every interaction? Perhaps prudent, but it'd be foolish to let his paranoia mess up a perfectly serviceable alliance. His companions could gossip all they wanted, so long as they made good on their promise.

He didn't have to wait too long before the two returned from the kitchen. The set of footsteps that approached him sounded louder than natural - presumably Nia. Alexander wasn't terribly easy to startle, but he appreciated her consistent consideration when she was trying to get his attention, nevertheless. "Thank you," he said with a genuine smile, grateful that he would no longer be reliant on the others for even the most basic mobility. He wrapped a hand around the rod, gently taking it from Nia.

The rod didn't budge an inch. Ah. Jeremiah was the one standing in front of him, then.

What sort of idiotic power play was this? Alexander tilted his head slightly upward, hoping he was facing somewhere near the boy's head. His grip on the rod did not loosen, and neither did Jeremiah's hold on it. It was uncanny, knowing that the other boy was just... standing there. Towering over him. Watching. Was this supposed to be an intimidation tactic? Alexander was already perfectly aware how powerless he'd be if someone decided to physically overpower him.

Or was Jeremiah threatened by him? The thought was ludicrous, but was he resentful that Nia cared enough about Alexander (not much, just enough) to keep him around and write lengthy notes that required an interpreter? He couldn't be that stupid, could he?

"Thank you," he repeated, his smile now strained by gritted teeth. Almost a snarl. He forcefully yanked the rod this time, and it came free, but it was very clear that his success was due to Jeremiah finally letting go, and not Alexander's meager strength.

"If you'll pardon me, I'd like to take a few minutes to get my bearings," he said as he stood, fake smile so wide it almost hurt. He experimentally ran his hand down the length of his makeshift cane, shifted it from hand to hand to feel its weight. Too heavy. Too short. Still better than a stick.

Taking care not to run straight into Jeremiah, Alexander began to feel his way around the room. He wanted to know where the benches were, the location of any notable obstacles, the distance between the walls, the doors... so many productive things to think about that weren't the infuriating interaction he'd just had. He heard an impressively loud sigh as he walked away, and spitefully hoped it meant Nia was as frustrated with her friend as he was.

[Emprexx Plush]

Mm. Goin' into it, didn't mean t' make a fuss. Nia wanted him t' have the rod, Jeremiah was gonna give him the rod. The way he took it though. Soft, with that smile. Didn't know who he was dealin' with. Couldn't have. They didn't say nothin'. What'd he do if it weren't them? Had t' know, so he held on. Stared. All Alexander did was tug and make snide remarks. Nick coulda snapped his neck before the sentence was finished. Tirzah coulda blown his brains out before he knew she was there. Just facts.

Watched him stumblin' around. Way Jeremiah figured it he was used t' leanin' on other people. Let himself get dependent. Turned handicap into a crutch. If he was a proud as he talked, wouldn't let nobody do nothin' for him, but all Jeremiah'd heard him do for himself was put himself in danger.

Seemed angry. Maybe ashamed. Should be, far as Jeremiah saw it. Nia'd chew him out but if they were all gonna work together, he needed t' get with the program. Frowned. Looked over his shoulder at Nia. "COWARD. RECKLESS. HIS--TALK--ANGER--ME--ANGER--NICK--ANGER--EVERYONE. TALK-WORTHLESS--HERE. HIS--WORLD? NO. OUR--WORLD. USELESS." Alexander didn't need t' get hurt, but he didn't need help either. No point. "YOU--HAVE--CHANCE. I--HAVE--CHANCE. HIS--CHANCE? HOME. FINISHED. SORRY. HE--DIE--HERE. TODAY--TOMORROW--NEXT-WEEK--SAME--SAME--SAME--SAME--SAME." Sign got more frantic each time he did it. "NOT--RESPONSIBLE. ONLY--RESPONSIBLE--YOU. YOU--WANT--KEEP--HIM? FINE. NOT--LISTEN--HIM. MAYBE--SMART--HOME. HERE? STUPID. I--GIVE--HIM--ROD. STOP. ATTACK--INSTEAD. WHAT--HE--DO? I--THREATEN--YOU. WHAT--HE--DO?"

Sighed. Took off his cap, ran a hand through his hair. Let it drop t' the floor. "T-I-R-Z-A-H--TRY--KILL--ME. TRY--KILL--A-U-R-E-L-I-E-N. V-I-O-L-E-T. PEOPLE--READY--KILL--US. HE--NOT--READY. HE--MAKE--US--NOT--READY. YOU--MUST--TEACH--OR--WE--MUST--GO. WHICH?"

[Fenris]

The field of psychology obviously has existed for as long as civilization has, in one form or another, in the sense that psychology is simply the study of human behavior and perception. As with any other science, most of the prevailing wisdom in the field thousands of years ago holds little weight now, though the history of the topic had been a matter of interest in Nia's past, irrelevant as that was. Modern psychology came with it experimentation, psychoanalysis, eventually medical imaging used to witness the actions of the brain, but despite all efforts there was much left to decipher. Mental illness came with medications that sometimes worked and when they did the doctors who prescribed them could hardly say why. The function of dreaming was a matter of much debate and commonly held notions existed with little evidence to prove them. Human behavior was somewhat predictable. It was the why and the how where research only scraped the surface, having explored the human mind as humanity has explored the oceans.

The reason, then, why Nia was so intent on staying with Alexander despite Jeremiah's accurate analysis of his chances? A mystery of the human mind without a label she could stamp it. Unfortunate, as the label would at least give her an out for her own irrationality. Yes, she could say she simply felt guilty, she had already, but why? Why let that guilt control her when it was so antithetical to her survival? There was a not-insignificant part of her that wanted to leave, or kick Alexander out, simply to prove that she was not a slave to her baser emotional responses. But those baser emotional responses stayed her hand, or, more accurately, her feet.

She wasn't ignoring Jeremiah, far from it. The information on Tirzah was particularly interesting, and she made a mental note to start writing this sort of information down. Tirzah had a unique enough name to summon a face and a vague perception along with it; Nia had not interacted with her outside of what was necessary for school assignments but had the impression that she was a bit odd, a bit flighty. Not in a way that she would have pegged as potentially homicidal before homicide became de rigueur, but with circumstances as they were she could not exactly summon surprise. Considering she had directly threatened both Jeremiah and Aurelien, whom she could recall was fairly big himself—the Violet did not factor into her considerations as she was fairly certain there were multiple of differing sizes—she could only assume Tirzah carried a gun. An unfortunate roll in the hands of someone so apparently unstable. But it was good knowledge to have.

The rest was less helpful, because she had already made up her mind, and all Jeremiah was doing was causing her increasing frustration to such a degree that she had to repress the urge to stamp like a petulant child. He meant well. He was unhappy, and he was frightened, and Nia was not truly upset with him, and he knew that, and she knew he knew it because he always did. But he'd understand her deadpan expression as she signed back too slowly, her words losing meaning with her stiff motions.

"HE--STAY. YOU--STAY. I--TEACH. TOMORROW. NOW--REST."

She did not wait for an answer before breaking eye contact with him, scooping up her paper and markers from the table before walking toward Alexander. He seemed to be getting around quite well on his own with the curtain rod, but the kitchen was littered with debris, to say nothing about the storeroom. She imagined her help was not unwarranted. She tapped his shoulder before looping her arm with his, leading him gently to what would be their shelter for the night, nodding at Jeremiah to follow as she went.

[dmboogie]

Alexander navigated the main hall of the building with a growing confidence as he became used to his new "cane." Years of muscle memory would likely prevent him from ever getting truly comfortable with it, but it was serviceable, and serviceable things were all he'd be getting for the rest of his life, so he chose to be grateful.

Serviceable cane. Serviceable surroundings. Serviceable companions.

Serviceable companion, he corrected himself as Nia took his arm (thankfully, no ambiguity this time - he'd spent the better part of the day walking arm-in-arm with her, after all) and guided him towards the room where they planned to spend the night. Her aid was much less necessary than it had been before, but you didn't go far in life by refusing people's kindness.

Alexander imagined that meeting Nia was probably the best way he could have spent his first day on the island; pushing the thought of any miraculous, coincidental reunions to the side. He was not exactly familiar with the bulk of George Hunter’s student body, but there were certainly those among them who would have seen an opportunity upon waking up on the beach with him. Even those who would've taken it upon themselves to assist him would also likely have been those too naive or clueless to be a respectable partner.

If Jeremiah's continued presence was the price he had to pay for Nia's company, well, that was a price Alexander would grudgingly pay.

Once the three entered the storeroom, Jeremiah and Nia began the work of barricading them in for the night. At Alexander’s suggestion, they also tilted some of the benches from the main hall upright and leaned them to block the front entrance - not enough to realistically prevent entry; but anyone who invaded the building would make an incredible ruckus when they pushed everything out of the way.

The storeroom’s only door was where the bulk of their fortifications went - there were easily enough shelves and such to make forcing one’s way through the door a laborious endeavor. Alexander normally wouldn’t have been so confident about so completely shutting themselves in, but, well. They had a gun, thus they held power. That made all the difference in the world.

Once they were all settled in for the night, time passed uneventfully. Alexander tried to engage his companions in pleasant conversation about life outside the island, but he failed to really connect with either. Jeremiah hadn’t been hostile, per se, but he was still Jeremiah, and Alexander doubted the boy was much for small talk even under the best of circumstances.

Nia seemed more receptive, but her palm-writing technique was slow, and he presumed it was incredibly frustrating to have to spell out word after word for any prolonged length of time, not to mention the strange intimacy of her holding his hand for so long. The touch made him pause for a moment, idly wondering how his old romantic partners were holding up.

He knew Lavender didn’t go on the trip, which he was grateful for. If there was anyone from their school who was certain to go on to greater things, it was her. Tragically, Hel very much was on the trip - they’d briefly hung out, even. He didn’t think they were the type that could cope with a hell that wasn’t contained within their name, but maybe they had a previously-unknown fountain of inner strength. Or maybe they were already dead.

...He didn’t want to think about that.

Eventually, the conversation between him and Nia began to awkwardly stall, mostly on Alexander’s end - he was starting to feel like he was monologuing. The two discussed a few minor logistical points, then he bid her goodnight as they began to sleep in shifts.

Alexander typically listened to music while he slept - his brain had an annoying tendency to latch onto words, even those he didn’t care about - he recalled hot summer nights where he and his sister both had their windows open; and he could faintly hear the television in her room, playing some godawful sci-fi schlock that he nevertheless couldn’t help lie awake and listen to. He heard the words, and thus he needed to hear the continuation of those words, trivial trash or not. That meant audiobooks and podcasts he actually liked were also right out for sleeping purposes.

Normally, Alexander was perfectly comfortable with, ahem, enjoying the silence; but his mind was still too active as he laid down on the ragged, scratchy blankets Nia had found; using his bag as a pillow. Montague would have been an even better cushion for his head - nice and warm and soft and cooperative. Now that the initial shock had worn off, he was somewhat glad his companion wasn’t there with him - this was no place for a gentle soul like his; not to mention the extra drain on their supplies. At least if the terrorists had adopted him, there was still a chance of him remaining healthy and happy.

Still. He simply, purely missed his dog. There was no room in Alexander’s new life for such sentiment, but who could blame him?

His thoughts became even more intrusive once it was his turn to take watch, when he no longer had the luxury of escaping into light, dreamless sleep. Nothing to do except listen to the quiet breathing of his group and hope they weren’t interrupted by the sound of someone crashing through their warning barricades.

Alexander had no illusions about his chances. He was intelligent, he was diplomatic - ignoring the one embarrassing failure he’d already suffered - he was composed. These were traits that were wonderful to have in, say, a CEO; but they wouldn’t save his life versus someone who could, say, fire a gun at something further than two feet in front of them. His brain would hopefully carry him further than most of his classmates; but it could never be enough.

Did he even have the determination to win? If the devil himself had crawled up from hell and placed a button in front of him that would kill every other person on the island if pressed, guaranteeing his survival - could he harden his heart and forget about everyone he cared for?

Alexander didn’t know. However, he did know that he wasn’t planning on giving up. He would stubbornly cling to his life for as long as possible. Every breath he took from here on out was its own reward - every gasp of air stolen from those whose lungs had already gone still. He couldn’t change his fate, but he could take pride in doing well. Whatever that took.

Finally, morning came; and found the three awake and about as well-rested as they could be.

[Emprexx Plush]

Didn't much care for beds. Never had. Always had a sleepin' bag when he lived with Pa, worked alright. Same as Pa. Ma got a bed when she got sick, but it was gone after she died. Had one after Regina took him in. Felt weird. Slept in the corner, got up early so she'd never notice. Kept the bed real neat. She liked that. Thanked him for it. He never got 'round t' correcting her. Maybe why he liked bein' out in the woods so much. Nobody figured it was strange to sleep with a bag in the dirt out there. Most a' the others probably ached all over after last night, and it weren't like he didn't feel it, but it was a habit. Felt right. Made him wanna get up and stretch. Signed quick to Nia once the light started comin' in that he was gonna take apart the barricade. Nodded t' Alexander, thought better once he was a few paces shy. "Mornin'."

Nia'd be fine. They slept out like this all the time. Weren't so different. Didn't reckon it fit him though. Another way he'd slow them down. Mm. Not a fight for right now. Get t' it later if he started complainin'. Could think about the others. Ones who weren't here, but mighta been some other mornin' waking up like this.

Thought 'bout Beryl. Missed her. She'd be alright, brain fired faster than Nia's and t' weirder places but she'd handle herself. Maybe catch up in a day or two. Nice to have somebody else to talk t', what with Nia committed t' lost cause. Beryl might get it. Prolly not. Soft. Nice t' talk though. Nice even when she didn't sign. Liked her voice. Smile. Energy like she was never touchin' the ground, sometimes jus' an inch or so off and sometimes miles over his head. Hoped she stayed up there where nobody could touch her.

Thought 'bout Nick. Face soured. Wood creaked. Maybe threw a crate a little harder than he needed t', heard it crack against the wall.

Kept pulling 'em down. Didn't look back.

[Fenris]

For just a moment, as Nia's eyes fluttered open, a caged animal made itself known inside her, frothing in panicked rage, reminding her where she was, how she ought to feel, what she ought to do, she ought to scream with as much voice as her fragmented throat would allow, she ought to curse every failed system that brought her to this, she ought to remember down to her fingertips, memento mori, she would die here, alone.

That moment passed swiftly, and her heart was silent once more.

...

It was slightly irritating having no point of reference as to what time it was; her only clue was the light streaming in from the cracks in the warehouse door, illuminating the room just enough that her surroundings could be seen, and the habits of her own internal clock. She recalled idly their captor speaking of a daily announcement, a tally of the lost, and she imagined that would come fairly early in the morning. She also imagined it must be projected loudly and universally enough that every resident of the island would hear, so it was unlikely that they had slept through it, putting the current time at past sunrise but no later than 9 AM in whatever time zone they'd found themselves in. An interesting point of contention, if and when she had the energy to consider it. The climate seemed tropical, but that was more indicative of latitude than longitude.

The other two were also evidently awake, sparing her one morning chore. Jeremiah, unsurprisingly, took the initiative in working on freeing them from the warehouse; she signed back in appreciation, knowing no other words were necessary, before turning to her other companion. She knew full well this sort of sleeping arrangement was more than adequate for Jeremiah. It was less so for herself, though she had slept in worse conditions and had slept surprisingly soundly given the circumstances, in the quiet and the dark. The blanket she had found was more of a loosely-connected series of holes, but considering the heat that wasn't such a bad thing. Alexander, though, she could not imagine having much experience sleeping anywhere but a soft bed in a safe room.

If he had complaints, he did not express them. They passed a few minutes together, picking up their conversation from the night prior; she was loathe to bother Jeremiah for unnecessary translations and so was forced to stick to short responses, unfortunately, but so long as there was nothing else to be done (and she was quite sure either of them would get in the way more than they would help Jeremiah in his current task if they tried) he was a reasonably interesting conversational partner. The hand-holding was awkward, but not excruciatingly so. It would be necessary in the coming days, and so it was perhaps best that she get used to the discomfort now while the stakes were not life and death.

"B-O-S-T-O-N-U," she spelled deliberately. The conversation had turned toward plans for the future, a morbid topic in this situation if she were to be frank, but it filled its purpose in making the moment feel as normal as it could given the circumstances. "D-O-C-T-O-R-M-A-Y-B-E-S-C-I-E-N-C-E." She paused. "I-W-A-N-T-"

The speakers crackled to life, and his fingers closed on hers.

She did not try to remove them.