Yep, 100% an Adam Malkovich type. Smug, self-righteous, probably convinced he was a totally good guy even when he was being a real dickwad to the only person on the planet who was tolerating him.
And, just like with General Malkovich, Garren wasn’t in much of a position to do anything more than listen and obey.
He rolled his eyes as he heard Michael shuffle under the bed. Even as he did so, he felt the tremor running through his body, his fingers drumming nervously against the grip of the shotgun. Quinn was dead, now. It couldn’t be her, pacing through the manor house. But it could be somebody Quinn-esque, a Blaise or a Justin or an Erika. It could be someone like that, slowly making their way across the foyer and up the stairs and closer and closer and closer to where Garren was standing.
Thud. Thud.
Could he shoot them? If it did turn out to be one of those people, with kills in the double digits? Could he pull the trigger if failing to do so resulted in his death? Maybe. Maybe maybe. He had realised at some point that he truly couldn’t give a certain answer either way to that question. Could he will himself or push his fear to the point that he just fired as soon as the door swung open?
Thud. Thud.
No. Nah, fucking christ, of course he couldn’t do that. What if it was just somebody else who was scared and cautious, looking for a place of safety and shelter? Someone who just wanted to lie low for a little while, looking for a place to rest, and the last thing they’d see would be the blast of a goddamn shotgun being fired.
Thud. Thud.
Garren’s finger slipped off the trigger again. He could hold fire. He’d have to hold fire. Maybe, if it was another one of the players, they’d try and talk to him, before attempting to shoot him down. He’d put his trust in Michael to intervene before that happened. He didn’t want to trust Michael. He didn’t even think he could trust Michael. But he didn’t have a choice. He had to.
Thud. Thud. Pause.
The door swung open, and Garren jolted, and just about managed to stifle the yelp that had been threatening to come out of his mouth.
“U-Uh… Hey…”
Look at the Cleanse, look at the moves!
Open - Late Day 9
"bryony and alba would definitely join the terrorists quote me on this put this quote in signatures put it in history books" - Cicada Days, 2017
Michael laid there on his stomach, in the same position he'd been in when he'd shot Roxie. He figured he could make a clean shot at one of the whistler's feet if and when they opened the door, or with a little adjustment, at one of Garren's feet. He didn't shoot. He didn't want to.
He liked it down here. He liked being hidden. He liked feeling alone and he liked nobody being able to have any expectations of him and he liked not making a difference. He liked being the observer.
He was just him now. He was just him. He didn't know what he was. As long as he was under here, he didn't need to know.
He knew it wouldn't last. He knew eventually he'd have to crawl out from under the bed and start existing again. He knew he didn't have enough time left to do a redemption arc.
He knew he'd have to keep going until someone stopped him.
But he didn't have to do it here and now.
So, as the door opened, all he did was focus on remembering how to breathe.
He liked it down here. He liked being hidden. He liked feeling alone and he liked nobody being able to have any expectations of him and he liked not making a difference. He liked being the observer.
He was just him now. He was just him. He didn't know what he was. As long as he was under here, he didn't need to know.
He knew it wouldn't last. He knew eventually he'd have to crawl out from under the bed and start existing again. He knew he didn't have enough time left to do a redemption arc.
He knew he'd have to keep going until someone stopped him.
But he didn't have to do it here and now.
So, as the door opened, all he did was focus on remembering how to breathe.
destroy the UN08/03/2019
Micheal experienced super position wherein he was both Beryl and he was Beryl's RP site quote. He was sure he could be happy about this but he no longer knew what happiness meant.
Micheal experienced super position wherein he was both Beryl and he was Beryl's RP site quote. He was sure he could be happy about this but he no longer knew what happiness meant.
Garren huh? That was interesting.
Upon opening the door Arizona had found the boy stood alone, in a bedroom. He had a shotgun held in his hands and was already facing the door. He didn't intend to shoot her. If he had, she'd have already been dead. Now Garren was an incel piece of shit, he'd been the one to spread Quinn's poetry around the school after all. It was strange, back when it had happened Arizona had said she'd do something along the lines of headbutting the boy. It hadn't been an idle threat either. What he had done was shitty and she'd had every intention of making things shit for him in return. Now though, with him in front of her she didn't make that move. Her hand—or more appropriately, head—was stayed by his absence from the announcements.
"Hi Garren," Arizona said, eyes scanning the darkness of the room behind him she made sure to double-check that they were alone. Once she was satisfied, she removed her finger from the trigger of her shotgun. She didn't relax her grip on it though. There were a few details about the meeting she found weird.
Her eyes went to the shotgun he held, then back to his face.
"You doing alright?"
Upon opening the door Arizona had found the boy stood alone, in a bedroom. He had a shotgun held in his hands and was already facing the door. He didn't intend to shoot her. If he had, she'd have already been dead. Now Garren was an incel piece of shit, he'd been the one to spread Quinn's poetry around the school after all. It was strange, back when it had happened Arizona had said she'd do something along the lines of headbutting the boy. It hadn't been an idle threat either. What he had done was shitty and she'd had every intention of making things shit for him in return. Now though, with him in front of her she didn't make that move. Her hand—or more appropriately, head—was stayed by his absence from the announcements.
"Hi Garren," Arizona said, eyes scanning the darkness of the room behind him she made sure to double-check that they were alone. Once she was satisfied, she removed her finger from the trigger of her shotgun. She didn't relax her grip on it though. There were a few details about the meeting she found weird.
Her eyes went to the shotgun he held, then back to his face.
"You doing alright?"
Garren’s mind briefly strayed from the situation in front of him, and he couldn’t help but wonder when the last time he’d spoken to Arizona was. Probably fucking never, to be totally honest. He wasn’t dumb enough to try and mess with somebody as built as she was, and he also wasn’t somebody worth a moment of her time, so they both just kinda… existed in their own orbits, aware of each others presence but under no obligation to acknowledge it.
Arizona was very much on his radar now, though, and not just because she was standing five feet away from him. It took him a few seconds to dig through his memory banks, but she had been the one to kill Quinn in the end. Her only kill, if he wasn’t remembering incorrectly. A single kill, on one of the biggest threats on the island, didn’t suggest that Arizona was planning on wanton slaughter. The subtle movement of her finger slipping off the trigger only solidified that.
It… hadn’t really stopped Garren’s heart from thudding at a mile a minute, or his fingers from twitching against the side of the shotgun like he’d just slammed back a whole four-pack of Monster, but the, uh, the intention was nice to see!
“I, uh… y’know, I…”
Garren sucked in a boat’s worth of air through his teeth, then suddenly exhaled, and it felt like someone had slammed a couple of faucets onto his feet and turned them all the way around so almost all of the essence and energy in his body drained out of him.
“Not… not fuckin’ really, dude.”
It would have been nice if his stress and nervousness had drained away as well, but nope, that still had to stay, like a rancid fucking stench. His heart was still hammering away. His fingers still tap tap tapped to the same rhythm against the gun. He was sure, so fucking certain, he could hear Michael’s breathing.
Please, God, please let that just be his own. Let him have some minor goddamn miracle for once.
Arizona was very much on his radar now, though, and not just because she was standing five feet away from him. It took him a few seconds to dig through his memory banks, but she had been the one to kill Quinn in the end. Her only kill, if he wasn’t remembering incorrectly. A single kill, on one of the biggest threats on the island, didn’t suggest that Arizona was planning on wanton slaughter. The subtle movement of her finger slipping off the trigger only solidified that.
It… hadn’t really stopped Garren’s heart from thudding at a mile a minute, or his fingers from twitching against the side of the shotgun like he’d just slammed back a whole four-pack of Monster, but the, uh, the intention was nice to see!
“I, uh… y’know, I…”
Garren sucked in a boat’s worth of air through his teeth, then suddenly exhaled, and it felt like someone had slammed a couple of faucets onto his feet and turned them all the way around so almost all of the essence and energy in his body drained out of him.
“Not… not fuckin’ really, dude.”
It would have been nice if his stress and nervousness had drained away as well, but nope, that still had to stay, like a rancid fucking stench. His heart was still hammering away. His fingers still tap tap tapped to the same rhythm against the gun. He was sure, so fucking certain, he could hear Michael’s breathing.
Please, God, please let that just be his own. Let him have some minor goddamn miracle for once.
"bryony and alba would definitely join the terrorists quote me on this put this quote in signatures put it in history books" - Cicada Days, 2017
Didn't recognize the shoes. Recognized the voice, but not by name, and not by face.
Garren already sounded like he was just about to say there was a murderer under the bed. He wouldn't blame him if he did. Might thank him, even.
The gun felt like fingernails digging into his palm.
To him, sad and angry had always both been the same feeling, he realized.
He still missed everyone.
He still missed knowing how to be able to feel like he had a soul.
He still didn't move an inch.
Garren already sounded like he was just about to say there was a murderer under the bed. He wouldn't blame him if he did. Might thank him, even.
The gun felt like fingernails digging into his palm.
To him, sad and angry had always both been the same feeling, he realized.
He still missed everyone.
He still missed knowing how to be able to feel like he had a soul.
He still didn't move an inch.
destroy the UN08/03/2019
Micheal experienced super position wherein he was both Beryl and he was Beryl's RP site quote. He was sure he could be happy about this but he no longer knew what happiness meant.
Micheal experienced super position wherein he was both Beryl and he was Beryl's RP site quote. He was sure he could be happy about this but he no longer knew what happiness meant.
There were no surprises with Garren's answer. No one, not even the killers, would be doing good at the point they were at. That didn't mean Arizona held any sympathy for them. She just understood the reality of their situation. The good news was that Garren didn't seem aggressive, so she invited herself in. As she moved, she nodded along with his statement.
"I feel that."
Again her eyes roved around her surroundings. She wasn't sure what she was looking for. Although she supposed that once she saw it she'd know. It all went back to the current situation and the weirdness of the meeting. Her eyes settled on the bed for a moment, narrowing slightly.
She had come to the manor for a reason. She didn't see any point delaying.
"I'm looking for Michael Froese," Her gaze returned to Garren's face. "You seen him?"
"I feel that."
Again her eyes roved around her surroundings. She wasn't sure what she was looking for. Although she supposed that once she saw it she'd know. It all went back to the current situation and the weirdness of the meeting. Her eyes settled on the bed for a moment, narrowing slightly.
She had come to the manor for a reason. She didn't see any point delaying.
"I'm looking for Michael Froese," Her gaze returned to Garren's face. "You seen him?"
Splash
The delicate sound of a bead of sweat rolling off Garren’s nose and dropping to the floor was like a depth charge going off to his ears. His back felt slick. His throat felt dry. And his fucking jackhammer of a heart felt like it was about to Kali Ma its own way out of his fucking chest.
What had he done to get this shitty run of luck? Had he walked under a whole row of ladders and accidentally toppled over a barrel of fucking mirrors? Or was this just karma continuing to use him as a punching bag for all the shit he’d pulled in the past? Out of all the rooms in all the buildings across all of this godforsaken island, two people with some kinda connection just had to wander into the same one he was in, when all he’d wanted was, like, two minutes of rest.
Although, maybe it wasn’t bad luck, because he had to imagine, now that they were on Day… fuck, what day was it? Eight? Eleven? Forty-two? Day Fuck, whatever, that there couldn’t be a whole lot of places to run, or a whole lot of people to bump into. Chances were higher of pulling Arizona’s name out of a hat of 30, than a hat of 200. Simple fucking maths. Or maybe it wasn’t bad luck in a different way, and Ari had been following him this whole time, tailing him into the manor - although that did beg the question as to why she’d asked her own question. Unless it was some kinda… sick power play, or something.
Or, fuck, maybe he was just being ridiculously paranoid, and Calzona and M’ichael were actually super best friends! Yeah! Yeah, maybe he could pretend that, and they could all go skipping out of the manor hand in hand afterwards or something!
Fuck!
Garren swallowed, or tried to at least. He blinked. He desperately tried not to glance over his shoulder at the bed. Maybe Arizona would just think he was piss-terrified at someone crashing in on his pad holding a shotgun. Which, y’know, definitely fucking contributed.
“I… saw him. Yeah.”
Not untrue, he had, in fact, seen him, at some point in his life.
“A while back. I can’t remember how, like, long ago.”
Also not exactly false - it had been somewhere from a minute to two that he’d last seen Michael’s face, and he couldn’t remember which, exactly.
“I, uh… I stayed away though. Far as I could.”
Well, it wasn’t as though he could back out any further without jumping out the fucking window, could he?
“Like… I know I’ve got this-”
He raised the shotgun, very slightly, as he spoke.
“But I’ve never fired the fucking thing before. And he…”
Garren thought for a moment. Chewed the inside of his lip. Considered who, exactly, he was hiding from who, here.
“Well… obviously he’s got some experience, now…”
The delicate sound of a bead of sweat rolling off Garren’s nose and dropping to the floor was like a depth charge going off to his ears. His back felt slick. His throat felt dry. And his fucking jackhammer of a heart felt like it was about to Kali Ma its own way out of his fucking chest.
What had he done to get this shitty run of luck? Had he walked under a whole row of ladders and accidentally toppled over a barrel of fucking mirrors? Or was this just karma continuing to use him as a punching bag for all the shit he’d pulled in the past? Out of all the rooms in all the buildings across all of this godforsaken island, two people with some kinda connection just had to wander into the same one he was in, when all he’d wanted was, like, two minutes of rest.
Although, maybe it wasn’t bad luck, because he had to imagine, now that they were on Day… fuck, what day was it? Eight? Eleven? Forty-two? Day Fuck, whatever, that there couldn’t be a whole lot of places to run, or a whole lot of people to bump into. Chances were higher of pulling Arizona’s name out of a hat of 30, than a hat of 200. Simple fucking maths. Or maybe it wasn’t bad luck in a different way, and Ari had been following him this whole time, tailing him into the manor - although that did beg the question as to why she’d asked her own question. Unless it was some kinda… sick power play, or something.
Or, fuck, maybe he was just being ridiculously paranoid, and Calzona and M’ichael were actually super best friends! Yeah! Yeah, maybe he could pretend that, and they could all go skipping out of the manor hand in hand afterwards or something!
Fuck!
Garren swallowed, or tried to at least. He blinked. He desperately tried not to glance over his shoulder at the bed. Maybe Arizona would just think he was piss-terrified at someone crashing in on his pad holding a shotgun. Which, y’know, definitely fucking contributed.
“I… saw him. Yeah.”
Not untrue, he had, in fact, seen him, at some point in his life.
“A while back. I can’t remember how, like, long ago.”
Also not exactly false - it had been somewhere from a minute to two that he’d last seen Michael’s face, and he couldn’t remember which, exactly.
“I, uh… I stayed away though. Far as I could.”
Well, it wasn’t as though he could back out any further without jumping out the fucking window, could he?
“Like… I know I’ve got this-”
He raised the shotgun, very slightly, as he spoke.
“But I’ve never fired the fucking thing before. And he…”
Garren thought for a moment. Chewed the inside of his lip. Considered who, exactly, he was hiding from who, here.
“Well… obviously he’s got some experience, now…”
"bryony and alba would definitely join the terrorists quote me on this put this quote in signatures put it in history books" - Cicada Days, 2017
Right person in the wrong place. Same as it ever was.
If Michael'd known, Garren would have been the one under the bed.
He wondered who it was; who he'd broken. He'd hurt someone bad enough for them to want to kill him without even meeting them. He'd done that a lot though, and it wasn't like he still had the fucking right to feel bad about it. Didn't matter. He felt bad anyways. Fuck you. His eyes glazed over for a second.
He wondered who he'd hurt them through. If it was Camila or Catherine or Roxie or Jonah or someone else.
...
He recognized her voice now.
Arizona Butler.
'Her love is very fierce,' Jonah had said.
He blinked his eyes closed. He'd be okay, if she was the one pulling the trigger.
Tasted blood when Garren started talking. Garren was lying. Garren was protecting him. That didn't make sense. That wasn't what was supposed to happen. Garren wasn't supposed to be a good person. Michael didn't fucking deserve Garren being a good person. It felt like a betrayal.
He inhaled silently, sucking his lips into his lungs. Still didn't move.
He just wanted it to be over.
If Michael'd known, Garren would have been the one under the bed.
He wondered who it was; who he'd broken. He'd hurt someone bad enough for them to want to kill him without even meeting them. He'd done that a lot though, and it wasn't like he still had the fucking right to feel bad about it. Didn't matter. He felt bad anyways. Fuck you. His eyes glazed over for a second.
He wondered who he'd hurt them through. If it was Camila or Catherine or Roxie or Jonah or someone else.
...
He recognized her voice now.
Arizona Butler.
'Her love is very fierce,' Jonah had said.
He blinked his eyes closed. He'd be okay, if she was the one pulling the trigger.
Tasted blood when Garren started talking. Garren was lying. Garren was protecting him. That didn't make sense. That wasn't what was supposed to happen. Garren wasn't supposed to be a good person. Michael didn't fucking deserve Garren being a good person. It felt like a betrayal.
He inhaled silently, sucking his lips into his lungs. Still didn't move.
He just wanted it to be over.
destroy the UN08/03/2019
Micheal experienced super position wherein he was both Beryl and he was Beryl's RP site quote. He was sure he could be happy about this but he no longer knew what happiness meant.
Micheal experienced super position wherein he was both Beryl and he was Beryl's RP site quote. He was sure he could be happy about this but he no longer knew what happiness meant.
Eventually, Garren managed to stutter his way through an answer.
"Alright."
Her eyes returned to a singular spot on the bed, then back to Garren, specifically focusing on his arms and body.
"So whose blood is that on the bed?"
"Alright."
Her eyes returned to a singular spot on the bed, then back to Garren, specifically focusing on his arms and body.
"So whose blood is that on the bed?"
Beat. Stare. Pause. Drip, drip, drip.
“What?”
There was no hint of a ploy or a little white lie in his speech now. Garren stared at Arizona, his blinking eyes the only part of his body moving, suddenly feeling as if her own piercing gaze was accompanied by a full head of snake-hair. He could tell her words were as honest as his, that this wasn’t some sorta attempt to make him turn around so she could shoot him in the back; there was something about the look in her eye, the steely tone in her voice.
The jackhammer in his chest had gone painfully still. The heat that had been in his face just a moment ago had evaporated, just like that. He felt enormously fragile all of a sudden, a mannequin made of glass. He’d forgotten how to breathe. He didn’t want to turn around. You turn around, the monster under the bed gets you.
Whatever Arizona and Michael’s relationship was, Garren knew it wasn’t a pretty one.
His head jerked around, like the dumbass robot he was, and he caught a glimpse of the blood on the covers, and somehow, somehow it was even worse than he’d goddamn thought, because it wasn’t a splatter or a streak of blood, something he could have missed among all the other pools and droplets and stains of blood coating the island, something that wouldn’t have caught his or Arizona’s or anybody else’s eye.
That was a bloody handprint. The red right palm of Ulster, stark on the bright white sheets. And a single one, too, not a pair, not an additional patch of blood, like somebody had collapsed in a blood mess on the bed before being removed.
It all painted a goddamn pretty picture of guilt, and Garren was right in the centre of it.
He looked back at Arizona, already stammering, already searching for words to say, as if anything could balance out his silence, his stuttering, the evidence staring them both straight in the face, all because Michael fucking Froese hadn’t kept better control of his goddamn hands.
“I have no idea whose blood that is, I swear, when I got here, I just, I just threw my things onto the bed and wandered over to the windows, like, I swear, as far as I know, it’s always been just me here.”
“What?”
There was no hint of a ploy or a little white lie in his speech now. Garren stared at Arizona, his blinking eyes the only part of his body moving, suddenly feeling as if her own piercing gaze was accompanied by a full head of snake-hair. He could tell her words were as honest as his, that this wasn’t some sorta attempt to make him turn around so she could shoot him in the back; there was something about the look in her eye, the steely tone in her voice.
The jackhammer in his chest had gone painfully still. The heat that had been in his face just a moment ago had evaporated, just like that. He felt enormously fragile all of a sudden, a mannequin made of glass. He’d forgotten how to breathe. He didn’t want to turn around. You turn around, the monster under the bed gets you.
Whatever Arizona and Michael’s relationship was, Garren knew it wasn’t a pretty one.
His head jerked around, like the dumbass robot he was, and he caught a glimpse of the blood on the covers, and somehow, somehow it was even worse than he’d goddamn thought, because it wasn’t a splatter or a streak of blood, something he could have missed among all the other pools and droplets and stains of blood coating the island, something that wouldn’t have caught his or Arizona’s or anybody else’s eye.
That was a bloody handprint. The red right palm of Ulster, stark on the bright white sheets. And a single one, too, not a pair, not an additional patch of blood, like somebody had collapsed in a blood mess on the bed before being removed.
It all painted a goddamn pretty picture of guilt, and Garren was right in the centre of it.
He looked back at Arizona, already stammering, already searching for words to say, as if anything could balance out his silence, his stuttering, the evidence staring them both straight in the face, all because Michael fucking Froese hadn’t kept better control of his goddamn hands.
“I have no idea whose blood that is, I swear, when I got here, I just, I just threw my things onto the bed and wandered over to the windows, like, I swear, as far as I know, it’s always been just me here.”
"bryony and alba would definitely join the terrorists quote me on this put this quote in signatures put it in history books" - Cicada Days, 2017
Michael slowly lowered his forehead to the ground. The floor felt cold. Everything except him always felt cold now.
He quietly exhaled through his nose.
The buzzing in his head was so fucking loud.
He quietly exhaled through his nose.
The buzzing in his head was so fucking loud.
destroy the UN08/03/2019
Micheal experienced super position wherein he was both Beryl and he was Beryl's RP site quote. He was sure he could be happy about this but he no longer knew what happiness meant.
Micheal experienced super position wherein he was both Beryl and he was Beryl's RP site quote. He was sure he could be happy about this but he no longer knew what happiness meant.
There was another long pause. Then Arizona slung the Pancor over her shoulder and moved closer to the bed. She crouched down by the handprint and looked over it before running her index and middle fingers over a part of the stain.
Dry.
Old blood.
There was no way of telling how long it had been there.
That frustrated her for some reason, but she couldn't figure out why.
From where she was crouched she turned her head back to Garren.
"You haven't seen a girl called Darlene have you? Glasses, black hair?" Another pause as Arizona realized something. "Sorry for all the questions."
Dry.
Old blood.
There was no way of telling how long it had been there.
That frustrated her for some reason, but she couldn't figure out why.
From where she was crouched she turned her head back to Garren.
"You haven't seen a girl called Darlene have you? Glasses, black hair?" Another pause as Arizona realized something. "Sorry for all the questions."
He felt like his head was going to explode as Arizona walked past him. The thudding, buzzing sensation filled it up, turning his mind into television static. The ghosts in his mind were somewhere in that mess, threatening to scream so loud his head detonated into a million tiny pieces. Wouldn’t that be a fun fucking way to go? He wondered for a moment how Danya would describe it on the announcements. Maybe some of his head chunks would land on the cameras in the room. At least then his last act would have been some form of defiance towards the terrorists and their bullshit game.
And it would probably be over way quicker than whatever Arizona would do to him, when she found the hidden fugitive.
He felt his hands twitch again, as she crouched down next to the bed, studying the hand print intently. The shotgun jolted. A little more to the left, just a fraction more, there’d be a straight line between the barrel and her back. He could pull the trigger and be done with this panic in an instant.
His finger didn’t move. The gun shifted back to neutral. Of course. Fear had been the only thing that had tempted him towards shooting her. Momentary relief would have given way only to another ghost floating after him, neverending guilt at the fact he’d shot a girl just to save his own hide after protecting a multi-time killer. What were Arizona’s crimes? Not just to him but to the island as a whole? Killing Quinn, so sayeth the announcements.
Some people out here would call her a hero for that.
“Uh, it’s…” Garren stammered again, moving a little further away from Arizona again as she looked back up at him. “It’s no problem, really.”
He frowned slightly, trying to think of who the fuck Darlene was. His social circle was a straight, flat line, but he at least knew the names of most of his classmates. Darlene wasn’t a real name. That was a grandma name. And that description? Next she was gonna ask him to go to Sweden and find the pale dude with blonde hair.
“I, um, I haven’t, no. Sorry. I’ve only met a few people since waking up, and uh… most of them are, uh…”
He glanced down at the ground and kicked up dust.
“Sorry I can’t be any more help.”
And it would probably be over way quicker than whatever Arizona would do to him, when she found the hidden fugitive.
He felt his hands twitch again, as she crouched down next to the bed, studying the hand print intently. The shotgun jolted. A little more to the left, just a fraction more, there’d be a straight line between the barrel and her back. He could pull the trigger and be done with this panic in an instant.
His finger didn’t move. The gun shifted back to neutral. Of course. Fear had been the only thing that had tempted him towards shooting her. Momentary relief would have given way only to another ghost floating after him, neverending guilt at the fact he’d shot a girl just to save his own hide after protecting a multi-time killer. What were Arizona’s crimes? Not just to him but to the island as a whole? Killing Quinn, so sayeth the announcements.
Some people out here would call her a hero for that.
“Uh, it’s…” Garren stammered again, moving a little further away from Arizona again as she looked back up at him. “It’s no problem, really.”
He frowned slightly, trying to think of who the fuck Darlene was. His social circle was a straight, flat line, but he at least knew the names of most of his classmates. Darlene wasn’t a real name. That was a grandma name. And that description? Next she was gonna ask him to go to Sweden and find the pale dude with blonde hair.
“I, um, I haven’t, no. Sorry. I’ve only met a few people since waking up, and uh… most of them are, uh…”
He glanced down at the ground and kicked up dust.
“Sorry I can’t be any more help.”
"bryony and alba would definitely join the terrorists quote me on this put this quote in signatures put it in history books" - Cicada Days, 2017
He stopped breathing.
This was a manor house, right? Like the house from Tallahassee, by The Mountain Goats. The album, not the song, though technically also the song, since it was on that album.
This was the house that dripped blood.
He supposed he and Darlene were even now. She'd accidentally cut his safety net, and he'd, sort of, accidentally cut hers.
Wasn't like any of that fucking mattered anymore. It never had. Nothing he'd done for as long as he could remember had ever felt worth doing.
He'd never felt anything unconditionally. He'd never been anything unconditionally.
The only times he still felt like himself were when it hurt.
Arizona was really, really close.
This was a manor house, right? Like the house from Tallahassee, by The Mountain Goats. The album, not the song, though technically also the song, since it was on that album.
This was the house that dripped blood.
He supposed he and Darlene were even now. She'd accidentally cut his safety net, and he'd, sort of, accidentally cut hers.
Wasn't like any of that fucking mattered anymore. It never had. Nothing he'd done for as long as he could remember had ever felt worth doing.
He'd never felt anything unconditionally. He'd never been anything unconditionally.
The only times he still felt like himself were when it hurt.
Arizona was really, really close.
destroy the UN08/03/2019
Micheal experienced super position wherein he was both Beryl and he was Beryl's RP site quote. He was sure he could be happy about this but he no longer knew what happiness meant.
Micheal experienced super position wherein he was both Beryl and he was Beryl's RP site quote. He was sure he could be happy about this but he no longer knew what happiness meant.
"No, it's cool," Arizona replied as she stood back up, rolling out her shoulders.
It was a shame that despite finding someone, she was no closer to finding the people she was looking for. There was a lot of frustration built into the situation. But she settled on merely sighing and stepping away from the bed, back towards the door. It was disappointing. She'd really expected there to be something.
Whatever, it was fine, she still had time.
She could make it work.
As she moved to leave the room, she slung the pancor over her shoulder. When she got to the doorway she turned back to Garren, eyes scanning the room a final time.
"Stay safe Garren," she said, before spinning around and heading for the stairs, her footsteps receding into the distance. "Thanks for the help."
But as Arizona walked away from the manor she couldn't help feeling like something hadn't been right about the encounter she'd had.
((Arizona Butler continued elsewhere...))
It was a shame that despite finding someone, she was no closer to finding the people she was looking for. There was a lot of frustration built into the situation. But she settled on merely sighing and stepping away from the bed, back towards the door. It was disappointing. She'd really expected there to be something.
Whatever, it was fine, she still had time.
She could make it work.
As she moved to leave the room, she slung the pancor over her shoulder. When she got to the doorway she turned back to Garren, eyes scanning the room a final time.
"Stay safe Garren," she said, before spinning around and heading for the stairs, her footsteps receding into the distance. "Thanks for the help."
But as Arizona walked away from the manor she couldn't help feeling like something hadn't been right about the encounter she'd had.
((Arizona Butler continued elsewhere...))
V8
Aracelis Fuentes
California “Cali” Fox
Darryl Smith Jr.
Jessica Romero
Roberta “Robbie” Woodvine
Aracelis Fuentes
California “Cali” Fox
Darryl Smith Jr.
Jessica Romero
Roberta “Robbie” Woodvine