Cathryn left, and Jewel plucked the shock baton from the corpse's hand. She didn't worry about whether Cathryn had turned on the headset or not yet. She didn't worry about whether Cathryn could hear her or not. For the moment, all that mattered was that in the end Jewel had pulled it off and though her back and legs and armpits were slick with sweat and her middle still twinged and felt mildly burned and her right palm was stinging again, she'd not been badly wounded.
Very slightly, Jewel was trembling as she moved a few steps from the aftermath. Now, the ringing in her ears was louder and there was a sick feeling in her stomach, and it was getting darker so she couldn't see well. Mechanically, her hands reloaded the pistol. It was very cold, and though her clothes had dried long ago, she felt more chilled now, maybe in part due to her perspiration. Her shoes scraped the ground.
Finding somewhere warm and covered for the night was what she should have done. Night was a poor time to be out and about on SOTF; it led to ambushes, which weren't her style, leaving her more probable victim than perpetrator. The cameras were good at night shots, but not perfect. Nothing showed as clearly in the dark.
Were her classmates all settling in, or were there hunters among them? Had the body behind her been one? The speculation had been an upswing in pragmatism in Season Sixty-Six. Jewel got that argument, really she did, but she found it reductionist. For most of the contestants, at least, there was more to this game than coming out as quickly and cleanly as possible. These things, of course, were hard to quantify. There were still surprises to be found, new twists she had not anticipated. It was troubling. She had not expected what went down with the girl.
She did not expect a figure moving in her direction so soon.
Nothing can last forever. Jewel was, improbably she felt, tired. She could have turned and run. She knew this was trouble come knocking, but she could recognize the figure a little.
She could guess what this meant enough at least to smile.
Don't You?
Probably A Death Thread
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MurderWeasel
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delicateMachine
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- Location: void
((Erik Lowell: Continued from Eat Fresh))
Nothing catches a man’s attention quite like a gunshot heard in the middle of the night. Ever the vigilant reporter, Erik quickly turned to Will, said “One sec, g-gonna check this out. Hold this, please!” He handed Will his pack, then immediately (but cautiously) started to head in the direction it came from, keeping a tight grip on his shotgun the whole time.
Being the first on the scene was one thing, reaching the scene while the probable killer was still there was quite another. Erik intended only to scope things out, and get the heck out of dodge if things still looked to be dangerous. This plan sort of fell to pieces as soon as Erik got a good look at who, exactly, was standing by the motionless body.
“J-Jewel?” He stammered before realizing his mistake. “Oh, d-dear.” Even if Jewel hadn’t been on the announcements, Erik wouldn’t have exactly been thrilled to run into her again. It seems that the bad vibes that he had felt when first meeting her were entirely warranted.
Now that he was closer, Erik could now also see the girl lying dead on the ground. Naomi. She’d been killed before she’d even had a chance to meet up with the rest of the team. Erik gulped. He had a bad feeling that he might be following in her footsteps. He clutched his gun tighter.
Nothing catches a man’s attention quite like a gunshot heard in the middle of the night. Ever the vigilant reporter, Erik quickly turned to Will, said “One sec, g-gonna check this out. Hold this, please!” He handed Will his pack, then immediately (but cautiously) started to head in the direction it came from, keeping a tight grip on his shotgun the whole time.
Being the first on the scene was one thing, reaching the scene while the probable killer was still there was quite another. Erik intended only to scope things out, and get the heck out of dodge if things still looked to be dangerous. This plan sort of fell to pieces as soon as Erik got a good look at who, exactly, was standing by the motionless body.
“J-Jewel?” He stammered before realizing his mistake. “Oh, d-dear.” Even if Jewel hadn’t been on the announcements, Erik wouldn’t have exactly been thrilled to run into her again. It seems that the bad vibes that he had felt when first meeting her were entirely warranted.
Now that he was closer, Erik could now also see the girl lying dead on the ground. Naomi. She’d been killed before she’d even had a chance to meet up with the rest of the team. Erik gulped. He had a bad feeling that he might be following in her footsteps. He clutched his gun tighter.
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MurderWeasel
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- Team Affiliation: Jewel's Leviathans
Jewel had her gun readied though not brought to bear yet when Erik turned up, luckily. She was ready and waiting, and if she was tired and cold and even a little bit scared if only because she remembered exactly what Erik was carrying with him and how it had stirred her when she'd first seen it, well, then she was those things too. Nothing was changed by that. Nothing was different. Erik was a known quantity, and now so was the body a few steps away.
"Hey," she said, nodding to Erik. "Good to see you again. Things feel more even now."
This was a lie. Erik was still a stuttering dork, and things had never been fair between them. Standing on the stage where surely drunks had gone to watch girls get naked, Erik had held pretend power and kneeling Jewel had controlled reality. It had been Dougie keeping their triangle from tilting, Dougie holding both in check, and there was no Dougie now. Impressions were important for contestants on the first day. It was still the first day, still early, and Jewel was somebody. Was she somebody who could follow through, though? That was the question Erik's gun whispered to her. It was a little bit early to meet him again.
She'd also left things off with Yagmur and the boys at the bowling alley and Cathryn. If Erik walked away, possibly they would meet up in a day or two and he'd be something else, something past this stammering mess, but probably they'd never see each other again because he would stumble up to Vahka and ask how he was doing.
Jewel realized a little bit belatedly that his gun was pointed at her too, and that for a moment made her think about whether she might be wrong. Jonas Jeffries seemed harmless. Nate Chauncey was a nobody between Marvia and when she got twitchy and splashed April's brains across the grass. Jewel had been allowed a handshake. This was not a joke. He was standing further from her than the others had. Was he Yagmur or the Christian boy?
"What now?" she asked.
"Hey," she said, nodding to Erik. "Good to see you again. Things feel more even now."
This was a lie. Erik was still a stuttering dork, and things had never been fair between them. Standing on the stage where surely drunks had gone to watch girls get naked, Erik had held pretend power and kneeling Jewel had controlled reality. It had been Dougie keeping their triangle from tilting, Dougie holding both in check, and there was no Dougie now. Impressions were important for contestants on the first day. It was still the first day, still early, and Jewel was somebody. Was she somebody who could follow through, though? That was the question Erik's gun whispered to her. It was a little bit early to meet him again.
She'd also left things off with Yagmur and the boys at the bowling alley and Cathryn. If Erik walked away, possibly they would meet up in a day or two and he'd be something else, something past this stammering mess, but probably they'd never see each other again because he would stumble up to Vahka and ask how he was doing.
Jewel realized a little bit belatedly that his gun was pointed at her too, and that for a moment made her think about whether she might be wrong. Jonas Jeffries seemed harmless. Nate Chauncey was a nobody between Marvia and when she got twitchy and splashed April's brains across the grass. Jewel had been allowed a handshake. This was not a joke. He was standing further from her than the others had. Was he Yagmur or the Christian boy?
"What now?" she asked.
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delicateMachine
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Erik did not reply. It was honestly frightening, how calm Jewel was after having killed a girl mere moments ago. Things may have felt more even to her, but in Erik’s eyes the scale had been tipped so violently that the whole thing had been knocked over. Jewel had a gun, now, and it was quite obviously loaded, in stark contrast to Erik’s own.
His eyes flicked back and forth between Jewel, the gun, and poor Naomi’s corpse. This meant that Jewel had three kills, at least, and there wasn’t any guarantee there hadn’t been any more since the last announcement. That much murder on the first day was almost a guarantee that Jewel was trying to follow in Karen’s footsteps. That meant talking it out probably wasn’t a viable option, loath as Erik was to admit it. If he wasn’t careful, he’d end up just another stepping stone on Jewel’s way to victory.
It wasn’t until Jewel next spoke that Erik realized that, in his panic, he had been pointing his gun straight at her. Despite the biting cold, Erik started to sweat as he realized just how bad a situation he’d put himself in, the gun wavering slightly in his shaking hands. Standoffs in SOTF usually didn’t end well for any of the involved parties. Jewel wasn’t pointing her pistol at him yet, but if Erik backed down now, there wouldn’t be anything stopping her from getting an easy kill.
An easy kill. God, Erik hadn’t ever thought he’d have to use those words to describe himself. He found himself hoping beyond hope that Will had stayed put. His friend didn’t even appear to be a possible threat, and if he showed up while Erik was dealing with Jewel…
It was now or never. If he wanted to get himself and Will out of this alive, Erik had to up the ante. He clicked the safety off of his gun. “Nothing! Nothing at all! I b-back off, you k-keep your g-gun lowered, and we both g-get out of this alive, alright?” Never taking his gun or his eyes off Jewel, Erik began to slowly back away.
His eyes flicked back and forth between Jewel, the gun, and poor Naomi’s corpse. This meant that Jewel had three kills, at least, and there wasn’t any guarantee there hadn’t been any more since the last announcement. That much murder on the first day was almost a guarantee that Jewel was trying to follow in Karen’s footsteps. That meant talking it out probably wasn’t a viable option, loath as Erik was to admit it. If he wasn’t careful, he’d end up just another stepping stone on Jewel’s way to victory.
It wasn’t until Jewel next spoke that Erik realized that, in his panic, he had been pointing his gun straight at her. Despite the biting cold, Erik started to sweat as he realized just how bad a situation he’d put himself in, the gun wavering slightly in his shaking hands. Standoffs in SOTF usually didn’t end well for any of the involved parties. Jewel wasn’t pointing her pistol at him yet, but if Erik backed down now, there wouldn’t be anything stopping her from getting an easy kill.
An easy kill. God, Erik hadn’t ever thought he’d have to use those words to describe himself. He found himself hoping beyond hope that Will had stayed put. His friend didn’t even appear to be a possible threat, and if he showed up while Erik was dealing with Jewel…
It was now or never. If he wanted to get himself and Will out of this alive, Erik had to up the ante. He clicked the safety off of his gun. “Nothing! Nothing at all! I b-back off, you k-keep your g-gun lowered, and we both g-get out of this alive, alright?” Never taking his gun or his eyes off Jewel, Erik began to slowly back away.
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MurderWeasel
- Posts: 3442
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Step by step, Jewel matched Erik. He told her everything she had to know without words. He backed up. Yagmur wouldn't have done that. The cold air filled her lungs as she sucked a breath in through her mouth, long and deep, inhaling clarity and courage and a hint of a death scent. Jewel was taller than this boy, so each of her strides covered more ground—matching his pace she could steadily close the gap. She did not look directly at the gun, just kept aware of it.
A mistake Erik made was clicking the safety off. That it had been engaged in the first place said he was careless and sloppy, and maybe so was she, but in a more calculated way. That click surely played well for the cameras. If she were watching this, maybe she'd have been rooting for the twitchy boy, hoping to see the girl in black torn apart by a spray of bullets, to see her stomach burst open and her organs spill out and her sob and wretch and leak onto the snow. But probably she'd have smiled and waited. She'd always preferred the villains.
"Erik," she said, "that doesn't sound like a very good deal for you. You have me on the spot. You could kill me. So what happens is you just let me go?"
It was easy to say these things and it was easy to keep her voice level and it was hard for her to hear herself because the pounding was back now, drowning out even the ringing because it was a physical force. She could feel her heart pulsing, her chest rising and falling with each breath, the different bumps and pits of the ground beneath her feet, the spit in her mouth, the slickness of her armpits and back. She was a fragile machine, one that could be broken so easily, but she kept her smile up anyways.
"Sounds too good to be true."
Strength and weakness were two sides of the same coin. What was interesting about them was the tension, how easily someone could suddenly toss tails.
"What gives?"
A mistake Erik made was clicking the safety off. That it had been engaged in the first place said he was careless and sloppy, and maybe so was she, but in a more calculated way. That click surely played well for the cameras. If she were watching this, maybe she'd have been rooting for the twitchy boy, hoping to see the girl in black torn apart by a spray of bullets, to see her stomach burst open and her organs spill out and her sob and wretch and leak onto the snow. But probably she'd have smiled and waited. She'd always preferred the villains.
"Erik," she said, "that doesn't sound like a very good deal for you. You have me on the spot. You could kill me. So what happens is you just let me go?"
It was easy to say these things and it was easy to keep her voice level and it was hard for her to hear herself because the pounding was back now, drowning out even the ringing because it was a physical force. She could feel her heart pulsing, her chest rising and falling with each breath, the different bumps and pits of the ground beneath her feet, the spit in her mouth, the slickness of her armpits and back. She was a fragile machine, one that could be broken so easily, but she kept her smile up anyways.
"Sounds too good to be true."
Strength and weakness were two sides of the same coin. What was interesting about them was the tension, how easily someone could suddenly toss tails.
"What gives?"
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delicateMachine
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The plan didn’t work. It didn’t come anywhere even slightly close to working. Erik stepped back, Jewel stepped forward, and he trembled and sweated more and more with each step. He’d lost any chance he’d had of successfully taking the initiative, and Jewel was the one who was now- had always been in control.
As she talked, the urge to just turn around and make a break for it grew within him, but Erik knew that it would be the definite end for him if he gave in. Jewel was taller, Jewel was more in shape, Jewel had an actual gun. Her smile was the worst part of it all, taunting Erik, promising his death as she calmly monologued at him. Erik had no adequate retort, no defense for himself. Shameful for one whose passion in life revolved around the use of words.
“D-do you want t-to die or something?” Erik said, the stutter that was worse than ever taking any possible threat away from his words. “I’m not a k-killer like you! I d-don’t want to- I didn’t have to kill you, so I decided to let you g-go!” Even to himself, Erik’s voice sounded scared, weak. “I swear to g-god, I will shoot if you don’t stop right n-now!”
The ground behind him took a sudden dip downwards, and with an undignified yelp Erik stumbled and fell flat on his back. The fall had done something to his ankle, and he immediately collapsed when he tried to scurry back up to his feet. Erik was forced to make his final stand. From his position on the ground, he aimed his shotgun directly at Jewel’s stomach, finger curled around the trigger. “J-just stop!” He begged.
As she talked, the urge to just turn around and make a break for it grew within him, but Erik knew that it would be the definite end for him if he gave in. Jewel was taller, Jewel was more in shape, Jewel had an actual gun. Her smile was the worst part of it all, taunting Erik, promising his death as she calmly monologued at him. Erik had no adequate retort, no defense for himself. Shameful for one whose passion in life revolved around the use of words.
“D-do you want t-to die or something?” Erik said, the stutter that was worse than ever taking any possible threat away from his words. “I’m not a k-killer like you! I d-don’t want to- I didn’t have to kill you, so I decided to let you g-go!” Even to himself, Erik’s voice sounded scared, weak. “I swear to g-god, I will shoot if you don’t stop right n-now!”
The ground behind him took a sudden dip downwards, and with an undignified yelp Erik stumbled and fell flat on his back. The fall had done something to his ankle, and he immediately collapsed when he tried to scurry back up to his feet. Erik was forced to make his final stand. From his position on the ground, he aimed his shotgun directly at Jewel’s stomach, finger curled around the trigger. “J-just stop!” He begged.
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MurderWeasel
- Posts: 3442
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"No," Jewel said. "No. I don't think I will."
It had given her a brief moment to catch up when Erik dropped, and now she stared down at him, the pulsing still rocking through her though now quieted enough for the ringing to return to prominence. The boy was still stumbling over his words, practically begging her to let him go, and—almost like all the other sensations—this twisted and writhed inside her and made her hesitate for a moment. She was looking on desperation rather than stupidity. He knew that everyone wouldn't get along and make nice. This was a personal appeal to her to stop, and maybe if this was their first meeting she would have walked away. Maybe if he hadn't reiterated his threat she would have been swayed.
For a moment, the breeze picked up, ruffling her skirt and raising the hairs on her neck and arms and making her wool coat feel such inadequate cover. All the noises in her head were still there, but they receded. She held them as secondary concerns, at arm's length. They'd be there still when she was done.
Jewel was not in trouble, despite the gun leveled at her. She had watched SOTF for a long time. She knew what someone reluctant to shoot looked like, and how that differed from someone who flat out wouldn't. It hardly counted as a gamble. Nevertheless, the illusion of mortal peril warmed her core. A giggle boiled over.
She finally raised her pistol to point at Erik.
"Better hurry up," she said. "You're running out of time."
It had given her a brief moment to catch up when Erik dropped, and now she stared down at him, the pulsing still rocking through her though now quieted enough for the ringing to return to prominence. The boy was still stumbling over his words, practically begging her to let him go, and—almost like all the other sensations—this twisted and writhed inside her and made her hesitate for a moment. She was looking on desperation rather than stupidity. He knew that everyone wouldn't get along and make nice. This was a personal appeal to her to stop, and maybe if this was their first meeting she would have walked away. Maybe if he hadn't reiterated his threat she would have been swayed.
For a moment, the breeze picked up, ruffling her skirt and raising the hairs on her neck and arms and making her wool coat feel such inadequate cover. All the noises in her head were still there, but they receded. She held them as secondary concerns, at arm's length. They'd be there still when she was done.
Jewel was not in trouble, despite the gun leveled at her. She had watched SOTF for a long time. She knew what someone reluctant to shoot looked like, and how that differed from someone who flat out wouldn't. It hardly counted as a gamble. Nevertheless, the illusion of mortal peril warmed her core. A giggle boiled over.
She finally raised her pistol to point at Erik.
"Better hurry up," she said. "You're running out of time."
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delicateMachine
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- Location: void
Jewel didn’t stop.
Erik had never expected her to, not really. Everything she had done had been far too calm, far too collected for there to be any hope of mercy for him. Even now she laughed as she stood above him, like the personification of death itself coming to take him away, if one felt like being dramatic. Erik didn’t. His only concern was the barrel of the gun that was now pointing at him, signalling an end to their standoff. Jewel had already won. All that was left was to go through the motions.
The click of the empty gun seemed to echo across the night when Erik pulled the trigger.
The sound had a definite finality to it. Erik found himself feeling oddly calm. Not at peace, though, not at all. The fear still burned inside of him, chilling Erik to the bone and turning his limbs to lead. It was a constant now, though, and seemed to slowly fade away. No less terrible, but no longer at the forefront of Erik’s thoughts.
Like everyone else in the fandom, Erik had given thought to what his stylish last words would be, if he ever did end up meeting an unfortunate end on SOTF. Slightly morbid, yes, but what about the show wasn’t, when you got down to it?
Though he wanted nothing more than to give back in to the fear, to continue begging for his life, to cry, Erik forced composure upon himself. He lowered the gun and looked up, past Jewel, to the stars. This was how he was going to be remembered. If he was going to die, he didn’t want his family to be known as one whose son was a sniveling coward to the very end.
Speaking loudly and clearly, Erik said “Dear viewers, this is your humble reporter Erik Lowell signing off-” his voice broke, but only for a second- “signing off for the last time. Good night.”
The bullet entered his brain before he could try and go out with a smile.
RF4 eliminated.
56 students remain.
Erik had never expected her to, not really. Everything she had done had been far too calm, far too collected for there to be any hope of mercy for him. Even now she laughed as she stood above him, like the personification of death itself coming to take him away, if one felt like being dramatic. Erik didn’t. His only concern was the barrel of the gun that was now pointing at him, signalling an end to their standoff. Jewel had already won. All that was left was to go through the motions.
The click of the empty gun seemed to echo across the night when Erik pulled the trigger.
The sound had a definite finality to it. Erik found himself feeling oddly calm. Not at peace, though, not at all. The fear still burned inside of him, chilling Erik to the bone and turning his limbs to lead. It was a constant now, though, and seemed to slowly fade away. No less terrible, but no longer at the forefront of Erik’s thoughts.
Like everyone else in the fandom, Erik had given thought to what his stylish last words would be, if he ever did end up meeting an unfortunate end on SOTF. Slightly morbid, yes, but what about the show wasn’t, when you got down to it?
Though he wanted nothing more than to give back in to the fear, to continue begging for his life, to cry, Erik forced composure upon himself. He lowered the gun and looked up, past Jewel, to the stars. This was how he was going to be remembered. If he was going to die, he didn’t want his family to be known as one whose son was a sniveling coward to the very end.
Speaking loudly and clearly, Erik said “Dear viewers, this is your humble reporter Erik Lowell signing off-” his voice broke, but only for a second- “signing off for the last time. Good night.”
The bullet entered his brain before he could try and go out with a smile.
RF4 eliminated.
56 students remain.
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SansaSaver
- Posts: 197
- Joined: Wed Sep 05, 2018 9:15 pm
((Will Brackenrig continued from Eat Fresh))
Will wasn’t afforded much time to protest as Erik thrust his belongings upon him, scarcely managing a harried “good luck!” before his friend bolted from the shroud of foliage they’d only recently entered. The echo of the gunshot that’d caught Erik’s attention still rang in his ears, muffling his hearing as he slowly backed up against one of the numerous trees dotted around him. Part of him wished he’d grabbed Erik’s wrist and prevented him from running of like that, or that he’d accompanied his friend as he moved towards the source of the noise, not wanting Erik to get himself into any trouble that he couldn’t handle. But as his hearing slowly returned and his initial panic slowly dissipated, Will chided himself for being so freaked out. Erik was a smart kid who likely knew his limitations, and there was no way that he’d lose yet another ally so soon after being reunited with him. The world couldn’t be that cruel, even in a place like this.
That mindset lasted only a few minutes before further gunshots resounded throughout the serene silence of the area, and Will’s heart plummeted to the pit of his stomach.
The colour that’d risen in Will’s cheeks from the exertion he’d garnered on the way to the orchard immediately fled his face, leaving his skin pale and his eyes widened in shock as denial and fear rose within him. He wouldn’t call himself a firearms expert by any measure of the word, but there was a definitive difference between the sound of a shotgun and the bang that’d just sounded around him, not to mention that it was identical to the sharp crack that’d driven Erik from the canopy he was stood under. A part of Will insisted that Erik had to be fine, that his mind was just playing tricks on him, that everything would turn out alright, but another part screamed at him that Erik was gone, gone and he’d done nothing to prevent it, stood glued to the snow-laden grass as his friend ran off and got gunned down for no reason.
Confusion and indecision rooted him to the spot, not knowing whether to leave the area and abandon Erik in whatever state he was in, or go and investigate and confirm what’d transpired. Either action was so laced with a myriad of things that could go wrong, and it was impossible to choose between them, especially with the time he had to make a choice steadily trickling past him, leaving him with precious seconds before his options and realm of choice would be torn away from him.
Will’s chest rose unevenly and tears began to trail down his face as the two possibilities fought between each other, the gravity of what’d happened twisting his insides into knots.
He didn’t stay long enough to find out which was the right one.
((Will Brackenrig continued in The Jellies Experience))
Will wasn’t afforded much time to protest as Erik thrust his belongings upon him, scarcely managing a harried “good luck!” before his friend bolted from the shroud of foliage they’d only recently entered. The echo of the gunshot that’d caught Erik’s attention still rang in his ears, muffling his hearing as he slowly backed up against one of the numerous trees dotted around him. Part of him wished he’d grabbed Erik’s wrist and prevented him from running of like that, or that he’d accompanied his friend as he moved towards the source of the noise, not wanting Erik to get himself into any trouble that he couldn’t handle. But as his hearing slowly returned and his initial panic slowly dissipated, Will chided himself for being so freaked out. Erik was a smart kid who likely knew his limitations, and there was no way that he’d lose yet another ally so soon after being reunited with him. The world couldn’t be that cruel, even in a place like this.
That mindset lasted only a few minutes before further gunshots resounded throughout the serene silence of the area, and Will’s heart plummeted to the pit of his stomach.
The colour that’d risen in Will’s cheeks from the exertion he’d garnered on the way to the orchard immediately fled his face, leaving his skin pale and his eyes widened in shock as denial and fear rose within him. He wouldn’t call himself a firearms expert by any measure of the word, but there was a definitive difference between the sound of a shotgun and the bang that’d just sounded around him, not to mention that it was identical to the sharp crack that’d driven Erik from the canopy he was stood under. A part of Will insisted that Erik had to be fine, that his mind was just playing tricks on him, that everything would turn out alright, but another part screamed at him that Erik was gone, gone and he’d done nothing to prevent it, stood glued to the snow-laden grass as his friend ran off and got gunned down for no reason.
Confusion and indecision rooted him to the spot, not knowing whether to leave the area and abandon Erik in whatever state he was in, or go and investigate and confirm what’d transpired. Either action was so laced with a myriad of things that could go wrong, and it was impossible to choose between them, especially with the time he had to make a choice steadily trickling past him, leaving him with precious seconds before his options and realm of choice would be torn away from him.
Will’s chest rose unevenly and tears began to trail down his face as the two possibilities fought between each other, the gravity of what’d happened twisting his insides into knots.
He didn’t stay long enough to find out which was the right one.
((Will Brackenrig continued in The Jellies Experience))
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MurderWeasel
- Posts: 3442
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- Team Affiliation: Jewel's Leviathans
For a long time after pulling the trigger and splashing the boy's head across the ground and listening to his last words and the ringing which was so much louder now, Jewel stood still. Her wrist hurt. Her palm hurt more. Neither pain was particularly intense. The limp hand before her had in the end pulled the trigger, and that was hard to process. That beautiful and sleek gun was empty and useless, and possibly that had been true the first time she encountered it too, in which case she could have simply stood up from the cold wet stage and plucked it from its erstwhile owner's grasp. She could have it now if she wanted it, which she didn't.
It was very quiet. She could almost ignore the ringing now, and maybe it was going away, and her panting breaths too. Her stomach still stung from the shock and also she was hungry and a little bit tired; it had been, after all, nearly a day that she'd been here. Five people was a lot. Zach Johnston's fifth kill was not revealed to the island until the fourth announcement. He did not achieve a sixth. He ended up in an ill-advised duel and died in the arms of his friends, who buried him in the sand. Jewel thought that most likely the ground here was too cold and hard for anyone to be properly laid to rest, and anyways by the time Mae died she was just dragged somewhere more convenient, and there had been nobody left to do that much even for Shawn.
Jewel reloaded her pistol amidst the ringing and shivered. Since she first dragged herself up on stage, she had not been this alone for this long. The pause between the boy and Colin and the girl and Yagmur in the daycare center was slight, and the one between that and the announcement and the bowling alley similar.
It was a surprise therefore when words cut straight through Jewel's ears, slicing aside the ringing:
"Don't mess with Jewel Evans, or you'll regret it. My name's Cathryn. Please, don't be scared."
Jewel flicked her headset off instead of waiting for the response; her interest in what Cathryn was doing was minimal. She leaned over and looked closely at the body in front of her and she tried to breath only through her mouth because while she could still taste the hints of death they weren't as strong that way as in smell. She shivered again and just looked for a few seconds and curved her lips upwards even though it was too dark by now for that to be easily seen. Her legs were quite cold and her coat had probably at least three different people's blood on it. She didn't want to spend the night in the orchard after all, so she left.
((Jewel Evans continued in Story on the Radio))
It was very quiet. She could almost ignore the ringing now, and maybe it was going away, and her panting breaths too. Her stomach still stung from the shock and also she was hungry and a little bit tired; it had been, after all, nearly a day that she'd been here. Five people was a lot. Zach Johnston's fifth kill was not revealed to the island until the fourth announcement. He did not achieve a sixth. He ended up in an ill-advised duel and died in the arms of his friends, who buried him in the sand. Jewel thought that most likely the ground here was too cold and hard for anyone to be properly laid to rest, and anyways by the time Mae died she was just dragged somewhere more convenient, and there had been nobody left to do that much even for Shawn.
Jewel reloaded her pistol amidst the ringing and shivered. Since she first dragged herself up on stage, she had not been this alone for this long. The pause between the boy and Colin and the girl and Yagmur in the daycare center was slight, and the one between that and the announcement and the bowling alley similar.
It was a surprise therefore when words cut straight through Jewel's ears, slicing aside the ringing:
"Don't mess with Jewel Evans, or you'll regret it. My name's Cathryn. Please, don't be scared."
Jewel flicked her headset off instead of waiting for the response; her interest in what Cathryn was doing was minimal. She leaned over and looked closely at the body in front of her and she tried to breath only through her mouth because while she could still taste the hints of death they weren't as strong that way as in smell. She shivered again and just looked for a few seconds and curved her lips upwards even though it was too dark by now for that to be easily seen. Her legs were quite cold and her coat had probably at least three different people's blood on it. She didn't want to spend the night in the orchard after all, so she left.
((Jewel Evans continued in Story on the Radio))