"Good," Jeff grumbled, not believing her for a single second. Anyone who had a demonstrated ability to murder someone and not completely melt down from the guilt of the whole thing was obviously playing a few cards short of a full deck, and that made her dangerous. Sven was actually a fairly pleasant guy, if one could look past the loopy nature, so Jeff decided to let him deal with the niceties of the situation. If he wanted to converse or jolly around with a murderer, so be it. If she tried anything, Jeff would make sure she regretted it.
At that moment, two rather distinct things happened near-simultaneously that left him momentarily disoriented — firstly was the arrival of another girl, another semi-familiar face. Garnet Barnes was on the basketball team and while not one of the players of note, she was memorable enough to make her name worth learning. Few players on that team had the renown of Arizona Butler, for instance, but the next level of players like Garnet or the late Rhonda Lawson, for instance — their names were enough for him to be conscious of.
"Garnet," he nodded in her direction, only taking his eyes off Paloma for a moment. It was a moment enough to give her a look; the sudden look of recognition on Garnet's face at Paloma was evident to him. Good — that meant at least one other person in the room with some semblance of sense.
The other distinct thing that happened was the crackle of the speakers and the brand new list of the damned that was sure to follow it. Jeff didn't much care for the joviality of the lead terrorist, but he supposed that if he were running a massive terrorist enterprise that had eluded capture for the better part of a decade, he'd probably have an air of inappropriate levity as well. The more he listened to the man's jokes, the more he wanted to will himself to the end, just so he could get his hands on his stupid, polished face and bash the man's stupid thick glasses all over his —
No, he needed to calm himself down. His temper and his single mindedness had been his undoing back home, but here he needed to be measured, and act with reason. The names on the list weren't overly surprising. Evidently Erika Stieglitz had continued her reign of terror, as had Blaise and Quinn. It was the same bad apples spreading all of the poison amongst the class of 2018, and Jeff knew that he would not have the luxury of hesitating were he to encounter any of them.
As it was, Paloma's name was not on the announcements again, and that — for the time being, was a good thing.
Still didn't mean he trusted her though.
"They just keep killing, huh," he mused, sighing out loud. Even the Facebook pariah himself, Lucas Brady had gotten in on the action. "Sooner or later there'll be less than half of us left."
Sooner or later, the names on the list would mean something to Jeff. He planned to steel himself away from that long before it happened.
Happened again.
He sighed.
There Is No Passion, There Is Serenity
Open, shortly before fourth announcement
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MurderWeasel
- Posts: 2566
- Joined: Thu Aug 09, 2018 1:37 am
"Hi," Sven said, nodding in greeting.
He was pretty sure he could still hear echoes of scratching and thumping from within the crate he perched upon, maybe—sounds felt more than heard, subtle vibrations. The amplified voice had as usual commanded attention and yet failed to hold his. But someone else had turned up, too. Garnet. A type of stone, he thought, but couldn't remember which. What he could remember, at least, was that this was his first time hearing that particular name in the last ten minutes, so at least in the last twenty-four hours she hadn't killed anyone or died.
Sven blinked, slowly, and backpedaled on that last thought a bit, trying to figure where he'd run off the tracks.
In any event, they were chugging along towards the halfway point. He was, in truth, a little bit surprised that his inevitable preordained death had not arrived to collect him yet. He had one or two things he had to do before then, but they could snap into place at a moment's notice, could occur in the blink of an eye and then he'd be gone, like he'd known from the start. How were the others doing without that certainty?
It was a shame that nobody here was an amazing conversationalist. The biggest topic they had to go off of was what the other guy had said, which was just mulling their situation and reiterating facts. Yes indeed, they did keep killing. They would keep killing, until they too died. The truly murderous basically didn't win these. It actually irritated Sven a little, the idea that someone could, in selfish pursuit of survival, sabotage their own chances so severely while causing so much pain. All it took to fall short was a single slip-up, and by turning every encounter into a fight, the opportunities for such became ever more common. The quest for life was a terrible reason to murder. There were so many better options.
He reached for his belt, but the lightsaber was still gone, so he laid his palm flat on the wood instead.
"I wonder how long it took them to paint this place," Sven said. He scraped his fingernail silently over the crate, ignoring the echo.
Then, turning his eye to Garnet, he added: "What about you? Would you like a candy?"
He was pretty sure he could still hear echoes of scratching and thumping from within the crate he perched upon, maybe—sounds felt more than heard, subtle vibrations. The amplified voice had as usual commanded attention and yet failed to hold his. But someone else had turned up, too. Garnet. A type of stone, he thought, but couldn't remember which. What he could remember, at least, was that this was his first time hearing that particular name in the last ten minutes, so at least in the last twenty-four hours she hadn't killed anyone or died.
Sven blinked, slowly, and backpedaled on that last thought a bit, trying to figure where he'd run off the tracks.
In any event, they were chugging along towards the halfway point. He was, in truth, a little bit surprised that his inevitable preordained death had not arrived to collect him yet. He had one or two things he had to do before then, but they could snap into place at a moment's notice, could occur in the blink of an eye and then he'd be gone, like he'd known from the start. How were the others doing without that certainty?
It was a shame that nobody here was an amazing conversationalist. The biggest topic they had to go off of was what the other guy had said, which was just mulling their situation and reiterating facts. Yes indeed, they did keep killing. They would keep killing, until they too died. The truly murderous basically didn't win these. It actually irritated Sven a little, the idea that someone could, in selfish pursuit of survival, sabotage their own chances so severely while causing so much pain. All it took to fall short was a single slip-up, and by turning every encounter into a fight, the opportunities for such became ever more common. The quest for life was a terrible reason to murder. There were so many better options.
He reached for his belt, but the lightsaber was still gone, so he laid his palm flat on the wood instead.
"I wonder how long it took them to paint this place," Sven said. He scraped his fingernail silently over the crate, ignoring the echo.
Then, turning his eye to Garnet, he added: "What about you? Would you like a candy?"
Paloma killed Abel. Paloma, who Quinn had had that kinda cute crush on, only they'd only found out because of people being total assholes, which made the whole thing less cute. Paloma who killed Abel.
Garnet felt like a skipping record, the same jittering point repeating over and over in her head. This was different from Marco or even Nick. There, she'd been appalled and then furious, too much of either to think or dwell. How could Marco have done that, not only, but then ran off to form some kind of partnership with Nick over their mutual disinterest in not being completely murderous scumbags.
Coming on kind of strong there probably. She was still finding it very difficult to think of Marco without dragging the rest of the emotions along for the ride, the things he'd said to her, the way that he'd tried to make out that he was doing her a favour just by not attacking her. That she was somehow babying him by not panicking at the sight of him because he could kill her at a moment's notice.
To just casually run into Paloma was different. No shared history, except every bit of shared history that mattered. Classmates, schoolmates. Lived in the same place, grew up in the same place. Somehow that'd led Paloma down the path of killing probably the very first person she'd ran into.
Before she could properly get done processing that, the announcements rattled off a fresh death toll.
Erika.
Erika Erika, fucking Erika.
They talked together. They'd had that moment. Things had been--could Garnet have done something, said something, anything different? Should she have chased after Erika instead of dragging Marco down from that ledge? Her being with Marco hadn't saved Kayla. Was all that blood on Garnet's hands instead?
"Not right now," said Garnet hoarsely.
Garnet felt like a skipping record, the same jittering point repeating over and over in her head. This was different from Marco or even Nick. There, she'd been appalled and then furious, too much of either to think or dwell. How could Marco have done that, not only, but then ran off to form some kind of partnership with Nick over their mutual disinterest in not being completely murderous scumbags.
Coming on kind of strong there probably. She was still finding it very difficult to think of Marco without dragging the rest of the emotions along for the ride, the things he'd said to her, the way that he'd tried to make out that he was doing her a favour just by not attacking her. That she was somehow babying him by not panicking at the sight of him because he could kill her at a moment's notice.
To just casually run into Paloma was different. No shared history, except every bit of shared history that mattered. Classmates, schoolmates. Lived in the same place, grew up in the same place. Somehow that'd led Paloma down the path of killing probably the very first person she'd ran into.
Before she could properly get done processing that, the announcements rattled off a fresh death toll.
Erika.
Erika Erika, fucking Erika.
They talked together. They'd had that moment. Things had been--could Garnet have done something, said something, anything different? Should she have chased after Erika instead of dragging Marco down from that ledge? Her being with Marco hadn't saved Kayla. Was all that blood on Garnet's hands instead?
"Not right now," said Garnet hoarsely.
Tony, against all odds, was still alive.
Paloma wasn't sure how to feel about that. If she weren't surrounded on all side, knowing that he was dead and gone would have made her feel good. It would bring her comfort knowing that someone else was dead and it was someone that she didn't need to kill.
Paloma didn't imagine it. Tony had a pipe going through him after she threw the bag at him. How was still alive? Maybe someone actually knew first-aid, but even then, what are you supposed to do when someone has a hole in their chest? Band-aids couldn't cover that, and Paloma knew nobody would waste their ressources on him.
Or at least, Paloma wouldn't.
She blinked slowly. Tony wasn't dead so Paloma wasn't a killer - well, she was but there were worse - and she was 'safe'. It was surrounded by two big quotation marks. She wasn't safe, if anything, she was in more danger than she ever been. But being announced as a killer, right now and right there, would just light the fuse she was sitting on.
Her eyes darted around like a chameleon.
"If-" Was she that greedy? yes. "Can I have a second one?"
Paloma wasn't sure how to feel about that. If she weren't surrounded on all side, knowing that he was dead and gone would have made her feel good. It would bring her comfort knowing that someone else was dead and it was someone that she didn't need to kill.
Paloma didn't imagine it. Tony had a pipe going through him after she threw the bag at him. How was still alive? Maybe someone actually knew first-aid, but even then, what are you supposed to do when someone has a hole in their chest? Band-aids couldn't cover that, and Paloma knew nobody would waste their ressources on him.
Or at least, Paloma wouldn't.
She blinked slowly. Tony wasn't dead so Paloma wasn't a killer - well, she was but there were worse - and she was 'safe'. It was surrounded by two big quotation marks. She wasn't safe, if anything, she was in more danger than she ever been. But being announced as a killer, right now and right there, would just light the fuse she was sitting on.
Her eyes darted around like a chameleon.
"If-" Was she that greedy? yes. "Can I have a second one?"
All three of his peers had varying reactions to the newest announcement, and as a scowl made its way upon his face, Jeff gauged them all. There were a myriad of different ways that one could take the news about their classmates demise, and aside from his own barely contained fury, he noted what each person did. Sven was relatively unaffected, his own existence almost seeing their current predicament as an inconvenience, rather than the hell that it truly was. That was fine — Jeff didn't expect much else from the candy-dispensing hippy.
Garnett was distraught, reacting with abject horror to the names that came across the speakers. Had she known some of them? Probably, but it seemed that each kill seemed to matter to her in a personal way. Each kill as it was listed off happened to belong to Erika, to Marco, to one of the repeat offenders. Did she have some personal connection to one of the murderers Or was it just a friend whom she couldn't fathom could go so totally off the deep end and turn homicidal? Either way, that was a sad fact of where they were. Just because you could trust someone back home didn't mean a damn thing after almost a week in the bush in a death game.
Jeff didn't trust any of these people, but speaking of mistrust, Paloma seemed to regard the announcements almost with a sense of surprise. What was so shocking about knowing that your classmates were killing one another when you had been the literal first person to cross that line? Everything about the way that she was acting was off, and Jeff's body tensed as his eyes continued to silently judge Paloma's every move. As she requested a second candy, Jeff didn't react. Shit could go off at any moment, and he wouldn't allow himself to be lulled into a sense of security again.
Probably not ever again, were he being honest with himself.
"Why so surprised, hm," he casually floated the question, trying to take any possible edge off of it. He wasn't trying to start a fight with Paloma, but he wasn't about to participate in whatever game she was trying to play with them. Garnett looked too shellshocked to defend herself from a surprise attack, and Sven's capability was questionable at best, so he would have to be ready. But for now, they were just four people, sitting around, talking. Staying alive.
"The mere fact that we have these," he pointed to the collar around his own neck, "means that we can't know anyone, anymore." He hadn't made a point of knowing anyone all that well, which he supposed gave him at least some advantage.
Garnett was distraught, reacting with abject horror to the names that came across the speakers. Had she known some of them? Probably, but it seemed that each kill seemed to matter to her in a personal way. Each kill as it was listed off happened to belong to Erika, to Marco, to one of the repeat offenders. Did she have some personal connection to one of the murderers Or was it just a friend whom she couldn't fathom could go so totally off the deep end and turn homicidal? Either way, that was a sad fact of where they were. Just because you could trust someone back home didn't mean a damn thing after almost a week in the bush in a death game.
Jeff didn't trust any of these people, but speaking of mistrust, Paloma seemed to regard the announcements almost with a sense of surprise. What was so shocking about knowing that your classmates were killing one another when you had been the literal first person to cross that line? Everything about the way that she was acting was off, and Jeff's body tensed as his eyes continued to silently judge Paloma's every move. As she requested a second candy, Jeff didn't react. Shit could go off at any moment, and he wouldn't allow himself to be lulled into a sense of security again.
Probably not ever again, were he being honest with himself.
"Why so surprised, hm," he casually floated the question, trying to take any possible edge off of it. He wasn't trying to start a fight with Paloma, but he wasn't about to participate in whatever game she was trying to play with them. Garnett looked too shellshocked to defend herself from a surprise attack, and Sven's capability was questionable at best, so he would have to be ready. But for now, they were just four people, sitting around, talking. Staying alive.
"The mere fact that we have these," he pointed to the collar around his own neck, "means that we can't know anyone, anymore." He hadn't made a point of knowing anyone all that well, which he supposed gave him at least some advantage.
"I'm-"
No, she wasn't going to give him the answer he wanted. She wasn't that dumb.
Paloma bit her lip and looked down. Her left hand went up to her scalp. It was still raw, but she was doing better. It was painful and she wanted to pick at it until she was bleeding again, but she stopped herself.
"I'm surprised that Angelina," she paused, swallowing, "killed her brother."
Her eyes darted around the room. That was worth a surprise, right?
Yeah, half of a surprise. She was close neither: an exuberant party girl and a manwhore who couldn't keep his shirt on. But it was worth something. It didn't hold the same worth as the truth, but she still said it. Frankly, she didn't care about the Cortez, but in this moment, she was glad they were on the announcements. It gave her a respite. A moment to breath as she was drowning.
"Yeah," she sniffed, "that's why I'm surprised."
Her fangs bit through the first one. She needed the second one. Right now.
The 'can't know anyone, anymore' part was directed at her, specifically, even if Jeff didn't say it. She felt the dagger between her ribs but she couldn't make a noise to Her eyes darted again, avoiding the second part of the statement. Paloma stopped moving her eyes and shut them close, her hand over her scalp.
Please, just talk about the dead guy and the not-dead girl. Paloma just wanted to eat.
No, she wasn't going to give him the answer he wanted. She wasn't that dumb.
Paloma bit her lip and looked down. Her left hand went up to her scalp. It was still raw, but she was doing better. It was painful and she wanted to pick at it until she was bleeding again, but she stopped herself.
"I'm surprised that Angelina," she paused, swallowing, "killed her brother."
Her eyes darted around the room. That was worth a surprise, right?
Yeah, half of a surprise. She was close neither: an exuberant party girl and a manwhore who couldn't keep his shirt on. But it was worth something. It didn't hold the same worth as the truth, but she still said it. Frankly, she didn't care about the Cortez, but in this moment, she was glad they were on the announcements. It gave her a respite. A moment to breath as she was drowning.
"Yeah," she sniffed, "that's why I'm surprised."
Her fangs bit through the first one. She needed the second one. Right now.
The 'can't know anyone, anymore' part was directed at her, specifically, even if Jeff didn't say it. She felt the dagger between her ribs but she couldn't make a noise to Her eyes darted again, avoiding the second part of the statement. Paloma stopped moving her eyes and shut them close, her hand over her scalp.
Please, just talk about the dead guy and the not-dead girl. Paloma just wanted to eat.
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MurderWeasel
- Posts: 2566
- Joined: Thu Aug 09, 2018 1:37 am
"Wait," Sven said, "someone had a sibling who wasn't a twin?"
This was completely new and tantalizing information to him. He was aware, of course, of the twin brothers and triplet sisters. They unsettled him some, though not enough that he wasn't willing to play Go with Yuki when the opportunity arose. But someone just having a regular sibling? That was likely the result of something totally banal, a grade skipped or repeated, or step siblings or something like that. Of course, maybe he'd misunderstood, maybe they were just fraternal twins, but it seemed unlikely. People brought the twin thing up all the time.
This was probably not the proper facet of the subject to be focusing on right now. Sven shifted a little bit on his crate perch, so that his legs wouldn't fall asleep. He swiveled his head a bit, watching the others from an eye still hidden behind sunglasses, trying to keep track of them all at once and utterly failing. He shifted his jaw back and forth for no particular reason.
"Oh, right, yeah, you can have another," he added, catching up to the question that had been asked of him a few seconds before the tension had dramatically risen. Was his response even still relevant? It seemed that the girl was the subject of greater attention from the boy whose path had wound around Sven's. The newcomer girl, meanwhile, was a wildcard, allegiances and status totally unknown. Sven hoped this wasn't about to turn into a fight. He didn't really want to get up off this crate. He didn't want to help what had been a generally pleasant encounter devolve into a screeching, tearing cacophony. He didn't particularly want to move along.
He missed the lighthouse. It was a horrible ruin, which had dissuaded visitors, right up until it hadn't. His initial companion had been agreeable enough—that is to say, Sven had found his disagreeable manner perfectly passable company—and he had been rained on just as surely roaming the wilderness as he would've been had he stayed put.
Maybe he could go back after this? Or maybe that would be the road to more disaster. Every time Sven went on the move, or was left alone for too long, things got a little weird. He drummed his fingers very casually on the crate again and spun his little stick on a string and held out the hand with the candy in it, which was the hand whose fingers he'd been drumming, candy concealed safely in palm, which was at least not sweaty and the candy was wrapped besides. He wondered how many candies he had in his pocket still, if any. He knew he would not count.
This was completely new and tantalizing information to him. He was aware, of course, of the twin brothers and triplet sisters. They unsettled him some, though not enough that he wasn't willing to play Go with Yuki when the opportunity arose. But someone just having a regular sibling? That was likely the result of something totally banal, a grade skipped or repeated, or step siblings or something like that. Of course, maybe he'd misunderstood, maybe they were just fraternal twins, but it seemed unlikely. People brought the twin thing up all the time.
This was probably not the proper facet of the subject to be focusing on right now. Sven shifted a little bit on his crate perch, so that his legs wouldn't fall asleep. He swiveled his head a bit, watching the others from an eye still hidden behind sunglasses, trying to keep track of them all at once and utterly failing. He shifted his jaw back and forth for no particular reason.
"Oh, right, yeah, you can have another," he added, catching up to the question that had been asked of him a few seconds before the tension had dramatically risen. Was his response even still relevant? It seemed that the girl was the subject of greater attention from the boy whose path had wound around Sven's. The newcomer girl, meanwhile, was a wildcard, allegiances and status totally unknown. Sven hoped this wasn't about to turn into a fight. He didn't really want to get up off this crate. He didn't want to help what had been a generally pleasant encounter devolve into a screeching, tearing cacophony. He didn't particularly want to move along.
He missed the lighthouse. It was a horrible ruin, which had dissuaded visitors, right up until it hadn't. His initial companion had been agreeable enough—that is to say, Sven had found his disagreeable manner perfectly passable company—and he had been rained on just as surely roaming the wilderness as he would've been had he stayed put.
Maybe he could go back after this? Or maybe that would be the road to more disaster. Every time Sven went on the move, or was left alone for too long, things got a little weird. He drummed his fingers very casually on the crate again and spun his little stick on a string and held out the hand with the candy in it, which was the hand whose fingers he'd been drumming, candy concealed safely in palm, which was at least not sweaty and the candy was wrapped besides. He wondered how many candies he had in his pocket still, if any. He knew he would not count.
How many more times could she hear this? How many more names until she shook herself apart from the inside?
Breaking the machine? Garnet was breaking herself before she touched a single cog.
Couldn't know anyone. Couldn't know anyone. Teammate's a killer. Girl's was a boy all along. Adventure buddy's gunning down everyone in sight. Yeah, got that right, Jeff.
And there was Paloma, standing around eating candy that Sven was guilelessly handing out. She seemed, well, she seemed innocent almost. Just enjoying something small in what'd probably be one of the last days she had. She hadn't killed again, Garnet didn't know the context. Was it right to turn the screws to her for one bad decision?
One bad decision that meant someone else was gone. Forever. Permanently.
A couple dozen of their classmates were making the same decision, Benefit of the doubt only extended so far. Accidents, mercy kills, those probably happened.
She thought back to Kayla's shredded body, the tattered ribbons of flesh that hung off of her. Abel was the very first. You didn't forget things like that. Accidents, like an hour into the whole thing?
No, no it wasn't.
"You murdered Abel," said Garnet. "Why?"
Breaking the machine? Garnet was breaking herself before she touched a single cog.
Couldn't know anyone. Couldn't know anyone. Teammate's a killer. Girl's was a boy all along. Adventure buddy's gunning down everyone in sight. Yeah, got that right, Jeff.
And there was Paloma, standing around eating candy that Sven was guilelessly handing out. She seemed, well, she seemed innocent almost. Just enjoying something small in what'd probably be one of the last days she had. She hadn't killed again, Garnet didn't know the context. Was it right to turn the screws to her for one bad decision?
One bad decision that meant someone else was gone. Forever. Permanently.
A couple dozen of their classmates were making the same decision, Benefit of the doubt only extended so far. Accidents, mercy kills, those probably happened.
She thought back to Kayla's shredded body, the tattered ribbons of flesh that hung off of her. Abel was the very first. You didn't forget things like that. Accidents, like an hour into the whole thing?
No, no it wasn't.
"You murdered Abel," said Garnet. "Why?"
"I didn't-"
She did. She killed him but that wasn't where she was getting at.
All by herself with one swift blow to the head. He died right at the moment the bat broke his skull.
Or maybe he didn't. Maybe Paloma didn't kill him on impact. Perhaps, if she had dragged him out of the rice paddy, he wouldn't have died. She didn't know. She didn't want to know. There was nothing to do about him. Would it make her feel better if Abel had drowned? Or would it make her feel worse?
At least with the broken skull theory, Abel didn't suffer and he was dead rather quickly. With the drowning theory, however, Paloma was even more to blame. If she left him to drown and she could have saved him, wouldn't that be just worse. The paths she had potentially taken were both terrible, but one was clearly worse than the other. She bit her tongue. a little more.
"He tried to kill me first," she shook her hand, "he grabbed me and he-"
She shook her head. There was no point in discussing with these people. She just needed to leave.
She did. She killed him but that wasn't where she was getting at.
All by herself with one swift blow to the head. He died right at the moment the bat broke his skull.
Or maybe he didn't. Maybe Paloma didn't kill him on impact. Perhaps, if she had dragged him out of the rice paddy, he wouldn't have died. She didn't know. She didn't want to know. There was nothing to do about him. Would it make her feel better if Abel had drowned? Or would it make her feel worse?
At least with the broken skull theory, Abel didn't suffer and he was dead rather quickly. With the drowning theory, however, Paloma was even more to blame. If she left him to drown and she could have saved him, wouldn't that be just worse. The paths she had potentially taken were both terrible, but one was clearly worse than the other. She bit her tongue. a little more.
"He tried to kill me first," she shook her hand, "he grabbed me and he-"
She shook her head. There was no point in discussing with these people. She just needed to leave.
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MurderWeasel
- Posts: 2566
- Joined: Thu Aug 09, 2018 1:37 am
This conversation had gotten more than a little off track. Sven sat there, hand outstretched, candy displayed on his palm, and watched, while he was roundly ignored. Somebody had probably said the girl's name—the apparently-murderous girl—but she was Kaine now, because what Sven had taken in was that she'd killed an Abel.
The other girl claimed murder. Kaine cried self defense. The boy might come down at any moment on either side, but probably he would be on team murder because he'd been leaning that way before and seemed angry and that was the most likely avenue to vent some rage on someone. Sven was neutral. He tried not to be. He tried to find investment in this situation, to pick a side or dig up some sympathy, but everyone here would be dead soon so this didn't matter. What he felt most strongly was irritation at being left hanging here with his arm held out, getting stiff and developing just a bit of a tremor.
He could probably shut this whole thing down if he wanted. He could spring to his feet, kick the crate he was perched upon over, lean his head back and unleash howling raging chaos. But that wouldn't get him or anyone else anything. It would trade one unpleasant state for another, only the new unfortunate status quo would be on his shoulders.
He chewed his lips and got a mouthful of whiskers. That was another thing that was a pity, no beard trimmer here.
His eye traced back and forth. Finally, he decided to take the most halfhearted stab at improving their collective lot.
"Couldn't we wait until after breakfast to do this?" Sven asked.
The other girl claimed murder. Kaine cried self defense. The boy might come down at any moment on either side, but probably he would be on team murder because he'd been leaning that way before and seemed angry and that was the most likely avenue to vent some rage on someone. Sven was neutral. He tried not to be. He tried to find investment in this situation, to pick a side or dig up some sympathy, but everyone here would be dead soon so this didn't matter. What he felt most strongly was irritation at being left hanging here with his arm held out, getting stiff and developing just a bit of a tremor.
He could probably shut this whole thing down if he wanted. He could spring to his feet, kick the crate he was perched upon over, lean his head back and unleash howling raging chaos. But that wouldn't get him or anyone else anything. It would trade one unpleasant state for another, only the new unfortunate status quo would be on his shoulders.
He chewed his lips and got a mouthful of whiskers. That was another thing that was a pity, no beard trimmer here.
His eye traced back and forth. Finally, he decided to take the most halfhearted stab at improving their collective lot.
"Couldn't we wait until after breakfast to do this?" Sven asked.
"Bullshit!"
Then.
"Fuck your breakfast, Sven!"
Then.
"Fuck your breakfast, Sven!"
"She's right", Jeff found himself saying, his demeanour becoming far more sour at the one tidbit he'd tried very hard to let pass about Paloma. "That's bullshit, and you know it."
He didn't want to do anything about the situation, he didn't want to get sucked into a fight, but he couldn't just let the lies pass by. If nothing else, they had their truth; it was all they were permitted anymore.
"So what was it, then — the real reason. No more bull."
Jeff's hand tightened around his bat.
He didn't want to do anything about the situation, he didn't want to get sucked into a fight, but he couldn't just let the lies pass by. If nothing else, they had their truth; it was all they were permitted anymore.
"So what was it, then — the real reason. No more bull."
Jeff's hand tightened around his bat.
“Are you fucking kidding me?!”
Paloma spat. Her face was red with anger.
“You’re the one saying the game changed everyone! You literally said that ‘we can’t know anyone anymore’, but that doesn’t apply to Abel?! Why? Why him?”
Paloma was seething. She wanted to storm off but instead she stayed. Everyone was going against her apart from Sven. However, she knew it was only a matter of time before he blew up too. This was fucking bullshit. Deep down, they probably all knew it. Paloma was an excuse to a bigger problem that nobody could wanted to address. They were cowards who never got their hands dirtied for anything.
“None of you were there! Stop talking as if you were, god fucking dammit!”
“Just fucking admit that you hated me before all this and call it a day,” she pointed an accusing finger toward Garnet, “especially you.”
Paloma was biting more than she can chew. She took a second to breath before continuing the assault on Garnet.
“What’s next? You’re going to blame Quinn’s killing spree on me? Is that it, Garnet?” That fucking letter still haunted her to this day.
“This is fucking bullshit and you all know this, you just don’t want to admit it. You just want to point fingers at people and do nothing about it.”
Nobody wanted to listen. It gave her more fuel.
Exactly what she needed.
Paloma spat. Her face was red with anger.
“You’re the one saying the game changed everyone! You literally said that ‘we can’t know anyone anymore’, but that doesn’t apply to Abel?! Why? Why him?”
Paloma was seething. She wanted to storm off but instead she stayed. Everyone was going against her apart from Sven. However, she knew it was only a matter of time before he blew up too. This was fucking bullshit. Deep down, they probably all knew it. Paloma was an excuse to a bigger problem that nobody could wanted to address. They were cowards who never got their hands dirtied for anything.
“None of you were there! Stop talking as if you were, god fucking dammit!”
“Just fucking admit that you hated me before all this and call it a day,” she pointed an accusing finger toward Garnet, “especially you.”
Paloma was biting more than she can chew. She took a second to breath before continuing the assault on Garnet.
“What’s next? You’re going to blame Quinn’s killing spree on me? Is that it, Garnet?” That fucking letter still haunted her to this day.
“This is fucking bullshit and you all know this, you just don’t want to admit it. You just want to point fingers at people and do nothing about it.”
Nobody wanted to listen. It gave her more fuel.
Exactly what she needed.
"Wh—what the fuck does Quinn have to do with this?" Garnet snapped back, stung much more than she would have thought by that particular accusation. Yeah so Quinn had gone off at the deep end, well, that hurt. That hurt a hell of a lot that her teammate had gone full psycho and there was nothing Garnet was doing about it. Didn't give Paloma the right to go off on her because—fuck's sake. Here was Garnet getting offended over the person she was yelling at mouthing off in turn. Great, this was going great.
"Actually fuck it, I don't even care," said Garnet, not able to believe herself but putting enough force in her voice that they'd let it drop. Hopefully. "I only hate that someone's dead 'cause of you."
She glowered, hunching in with both fists raised. "You killed him first thing. I don't believe you—what, your tiny ass got jumped and you turned it back on a guy like Abel? You overpowered a guy built like a fucking fridge!? You're fucking full of it!"
"Actually fuck it, I don't even care," said Garnet, not able to believe herself but putting enough force in her voice that they'd let it drop. Hopefully. "I only hate that someone's dead 'cause of you."
She glowered, hunching in with both fists raised. "You killed him first thing. I don't believe you—what, your tiny ass got jumped and you turned it back on a guy like Abel? You overpowered a guy built like a fucking fridge!? You're fucking full of it!"
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MurderWeasel
- Posts: 2566
- Joined: Thu Aug 09, 2018 1:37 am
Sven set the candy down on the crate next to him and put his hands in his pockets. Everyone else was getting very worked up about the whole thing, but aside from the totally unnecessary potshot about the breakfast—and it wasn't his breakfast, thank you very much, it was their collective breakfast, a theoretical moment of peace and quiet, a transient truce when they might never get another chance for that, Sven wasn't even hungry—he was more or less uninvolved.
That was probably the best option at this point, really. The others seemed liable to start fighting or storm off or engage in any number of possible less-reasonable responses at any moment, and he wasn't feeling interventionist just now. Sometimes, having power and choosing not to exercise it was a measure of control in its own way, wasn't it?
Maybe not. Sven didn't honestly care if he was in control or not by any normal person's standards. None of them had any agency in any way that truly mattered. They would wait around and pass their last moments however they felt best, tell themselves there might be other outcomes, and then they would die. So it was.
He stretched his legs and fingers a bit, working out some stiffness and noting a residual ache deep within, and then started turning the stick-on-a-string around in his hands again and again. Its rough, natural texture contrasted pleasantly with the rough, manufactured character of the twine. He might once have been able to use the latter as an impromptu brush, to work on a painting far more impressionist than anything he would've actually wanted to create.
These musings didn't matter. Nothing did.
That was probably the best option at this point, really. The others seemed liable to start fighting or storm off or engage in any number of possible less-reasonable responses at any moment, and he wasn't feeling interventionist just now. Sometimes, having power and choosing not to exercise it was a measure of control in its own way, wasn't it?
Maybe not. Sven didn't honestly care if he was in control or not by any normal person's standards. None of them had any agency in any way that truly mattered. They would wait around and pass their last moments however they felt best, tell themselves there might be other outcomes, and then they would die. So it was.
He stretched his legs and fingers a bit, working out some stiffness and noting a residual ache deep within, and then started turning the stick-on-a-string around in his hands again and again. Its rough, natural texture contrasted pleasantly with the rough, manufactured character of the twine. He might once have been able to use the latter as an impromptu brush, to work on a painting far more impressionist than anything he would've actually wanted to create.
These musings didn't matter. Nothing did.