((Sean Tucker continued from Strange Fruit))
There weren't too many places to lay low in the compound, not with the way it was built. You were either inside a building, along with everyone else holed up there, or else you were outside, and anyone on the roofs had a clear shot at you. Nowhere was safe. Sean was regretting ditching the others, even Bryant. Even after the sudden violence, it'd be better to have some backup, another pair of eyes watching for people. Too late to do anything about that now, though, so Sean was trying the next best thing. He was trying to find somewhere no one else would be yet.
Where better than the still-cooling garage?
Something had gone down here. Something big. There were bodies, scorch marks. The air was rank with the stench of seared flesh. Sean really, really did not want to be here.
But no one else would, either. He was counting on that. He could regroup here. Pull himself together. He'd frozen up some before. Totally lost track of himself. He'd been lucky not to get killed. Lucky Bryant had been belligerent only towards Chalmers.
He was poking through the wreckage, looking for anything of interest, anything hidden, before he'd find a corner to crawl into. So far, nothing. A smoldering jeep. Some corpses. Look away from the corpses. Ash everywhere. Man, what had happened here? It must've been pretty bad, whatever it was.
He glanced around. Something was off. Something was wrong. Bodies. Blood on the ground. Destroyed vehicles.
Blood on the ground? Shouldn't that have burned off or something? It was still wet, though. Still looked almost fresh. Sean's pulse quickened. He should run. He should get out of here now. Someone could be hurt, though. Someone could be dying. Maybe there had been a survivor of this massacre. Maybe someone could tell him what had happened.
He followed the trail of blood. It led behind the truck. Oh no. Someone had been hurt and had crawled into this little space, looking for safety. This would be bad. Probably way worse than Chalmers' bloody mouth. Sean braced himself. He could take it. He could do this.
He turned the corner, and was instantly proved wrong.
He nearly lost his lunch on the spot.
What had happened to her?
((Sydney Cole continued from Life Sucks And Then...))
He could still recognize her. She was Sydney Cole, a girl from his class. Of course. Everyone here was from his class. Sydney looked bad, though. Beaten. Bloody. Her left arm hung at an awkward angle. Her nose was broken. Her face was swollen. Her chest was still rising and falling, though. She was still breathing. She just needed some help.
He ran over to her, almost shook her. Then he remembered that you weren't supposed to move injured people unless you absolutely had to. You could do more damage than good if you weren't careful. He leaned down, though, got close to her. It was even worse than he'd thought. Her knee looked bad, too. Someone had thoroughly beaten the girl.
"Hey, hey, Sydney, you okay?" Sean said.
No response.
He reached out, touched her face. Cringed at the sticky blood.
"Sydney, what happened? Who did this to you?"
One of the corpses, perhaps? Had one of them beaten Sydney, but been driven off by her? Had she started this fire in self defense?
Sydney stirred a little.
"Sydney?"
Her eyes opened, then instantly widened in horror. Sean didn't have time to spin. The Louisville Slugger smashed into the back of his skull, and he crashed to the floor.
After half a dozen more swings, he stopped breathing.
M08, Sean Tucker: DECEASED
((Sherilyn Schachter continued from It Had To Be Me))
"See?" Sherilyn said, lowering the bloody baseball bat. "I told you you were lying."
Sydney looked up at her, blinking, shuddering as she returned to clarity, and tried not to cry again. Sherilyn had found her hiding here some time ago. By then, the girl had been completely out of her mind. She'd beaten Sydney into unconsciousness, the whole time rambling.
"I didn't kill her," Sydney said, yet again. "I swear I didn't kill her. Why won't you believe me?"
"Then why's she dead?" Sherilyn replied. "You want to me to believe Wendy blew herself up or something? The one decent person, the one person who tries to help me, the one person I just want to apologize to, and when I find her she's dead and you're here. Of course. Looting the corpses, you said. Didn't kill them, you said. Don't lie to an actress, dear. We always know when you're putting on a show. Even Alex would be able to see through this. Even if he was stoned at the time."
"I didn't kill her," Sydney repeated. "She was dead when I got here."
"Sure, and next you're going to tell me you've never seen that guy before." Sherilyn gestured the bloody, splintered bat at Sean's body. "That he wasn't your accomplice."
That was exactly what Sydney had been planning to say, in fact, since it was the truth. Now, though, she fumbled for an explanation. It was hard to think. Her head and knee and arm and face hurt, from the strikes Sherilyn had inflicted earlier. She was sure something was broken. Several somethings, at that. She was going to die. Oh god, she was going to die.
"H-he was, but we didn't kill her," Sydney said. "He was just scouting."
"You said you didn't have a partner earlier," Sherilyn said. "You're a bad liar. Besides, now that I got him, I don't need you anymore. I think it's time Wendy was avenged."
Sydney started screaming, then, screaming in fear and helplessness and a desire to live. It didn't help one bit, as the bat came down again and again.
F14, Sydney Cole: DECEASED
It did, however, attract the attention of someone passing by outside.
((Jethro Stuarts continued from Vioelectrolysis))
Jethro had gotten away from the mess hall in an awful damn hurry. He hadn't planned to pay any attention to the garage at all. He also hadn't planned to hear tortured screams emanating from it. Hadn't planned for them to suddenly stop. He wasn't sure if Ryan was behind him. Hadn't checked. Didn't have time now. Not with a girl maybe dead right inside.
Jethro checked his gun and ran in.
At first, he couldn't make anything out. The room was dark. Scorched. There were bodies around, several of them. He'd have to be quick. Who knew what sort of awful shit could've happened by now? The girl sure wasn't screaming anymore.
Someone was sniffling, though, in the corner. Behind the truck.
Jethro jogged over. It sounded like a girl. The same one?
No.
The girl (Sherilyn, he recognized her now) looked like she came straight out of a slasher flick. Hair matted. Eyes wide. Blood all over her. Blood on the bat in her hands. Blood leaking from the pair of bodies behind her.
"What the fuck happened here?" Jethro asked. His hands were shaking. He was trying to keep the gun on the girl, but it was wavering. She was looking at him, a few tears trickling from her eyes.
"They attacked me," she said.
There was no other weapon evident. Certainly, the corpses looked unarmed.
"Bullshit."
He tried to steady the gun. He couldn't shoot anyone, could he? He sure couldn't shoot a girl.
She took a look at him, at the way he held the gun.
"They killed my friend," she said.
"What friend?"
"Her."
Sherilyn gestured off to the side. As Jethro took a glance in that direction, as he saw a burned corpse, she lunged at him, swinging the bat. It impacted against the side of his head. He could swear he saw stars as he fell towards the floor.
He caught himself, though. He caught himself, and he still had the gun. And as Sherilyn lunged for him again, bat raised above her head, Jethro swung it into position and pulled the trigger.
He'd been pretty sure he'd left the safety on. It seemed just like his luck. Certainly, he wasn't expecting the recoil. The gun flew out of his hands, skittered across the floor. His wrist hurt. His shoulder hurt. His whole arm hurt.
Sherilyn collapsed to the ground, blood flowing from what remained of her head.
F01, Sherilyn Schachter: DECEASED
And Jethro just lay on the ground, his head spinning, his whole body in pain, unable to even begin to process what he had just done.
Plenty Death To Go Around
Open
Moderator: Sh4dE
[[The handler reflects back on this old work: WOW this is bad. Formatting stuff, ew.]]
((Luke Mendoza Continued From: Vioectrolysis.))
Well it turned out that black kid was really damn fast. Luke had a difficult time catching up. He lost him around the helipad area, with Luke needing to stop and catch his breath for a minute or two. However Luke, took it easy for a bit, knowing that the kid was probably in the only possible building, with the direction he was heading. According to the map, it was the garage/depot. So he headed that way.
Luke entered through the garage first, walking slowly and carefully surveying the area. It was eerily quiet, another situation where someone could just outright ambush him. He'd gone paranoid from the last one; half expecting the guy he followed here to go shooting at him, or the Mason twins to make their second appearance. Instead he found something much worse... Right next to a bloody shovel was an unrecognizable mess on the floor, of what used to be human. An image of Henry Barren's bloody face flashed into his mind.
Luke took a deep breath and closed his eyes for a moment, then quickly opened them again, knowing what happened the last time he was near a bloody body. It was easier now, he has already seen one like this before. Just move on. Someone did the job for you. It's what you want. All part of the plan. That's right all part of the plan. A smell, of ash entered the boy's nose, from the other end of the garage toward the Depot. This area was more interesting than he thought.
*
"Good. Lord..." He said as he saw the results of a now small fire in the depot. The room was practically marked in black. Soot on the floor, and on the cars. And... Yes, another body... no two. Charred and burnt to a crisp, right next to each other; hand in hand. It wasn't as bad as the bloody messes of the bodies before this, so he got over them pretty quickly. Moving on, careful not to step on any body parts this time.
Then he saw it, near the cars... a gun. He hoped it wasn't a trap. Luke readied his own firearm, as he walked to the cars, avoiding the left over flames.
A noise.
Someone was alive! Groaning on the floor!
To his surprise it was the same boy he followed earlier. And he recognized him. It was Jethro Stuarts, writhing on the ground. Next to him was a bloodied baseball bat, and surprise surprise! More Dead Bodies.
There were three; all just like Henry Barren and that other body; all drenched in blood. Luke could only assume. What on earth happened here? Six Dead Bodies. All in one place. Jesus. Something like this would have probably made Luke sick, but he'd become desensitized by now. That was good. He was getting better at this. After all, six bodies meant... another 6 steps closer to finish Logan Sorenson's 'plan' and get out of here. Luke somehow smiled....
Great! Now you got the right idea Luke. His inner voice sounded alot like Sor now. Yes Sor, and don't I know it.
This was the absolute definition of what the whole 'plan' was about: Let people fight off and kill each other, until they get severely weakened like Jethro here. Jethro probably went all vengeful on the white kids who tormented him in school, for being black or something. And from the looks of things they got it back... badly.
*
Luke Mendoza set down his bag and knelled to the groaning Jethro. He removed his shades to get a better look at the boy's face. Clapping mock-enthusiastically in response to all of this 'work.'
"Great. Work. Jethro... Bro..!" He said in a mildly amused, voice.
"Six? you got six of them in one sitting? That's amazing. Oh and you messed those three up pretty badly." Luke picked up Jethro's gun, as the kid continued to groan in agony. "I'll take that!"
Jethro held his head in pain, as Luke looked on feeling a little sorry for him, but he was too dangerous to help. Luke simply rifled through Jethro's bag, picking out some bullets and clips. It was a newer gun, so Luke had to check the manual first. This was good, as he'd already used many of the bullets in his revolver. The new gun was bigger than the last and not easily concealable. There was also a Machete in one of the duffel bags owned by one of those dead bodies. Luke took that as well. Maybe he'd use these new weapons as 'gifts' to help 'sway' or 'encourage' others to follow up with the 'plan' as well. Yes that's what Luke will do.
"Sorry, I can't help you. You're just too dangerous. But thanks for all your help. Really. I appreciate it!" Luke said as he snapped the clip in place, getting a feel of the new weapon. He should have felt weird, talking to an injured boy, who was not even able to respond, but that's what happens to Luke when he is left alone with no one to talk to for a while; he just loses it a little and talks too much when he finally does.
"Here have a drink on me!" he said uncorking the hard liquor from his bag and pouring some on the boy's face. Luke was enjoying himself a little too much.
"Keep up the good work." Luke said while patting Jethro's forehead like an older sibling would do, to sarcastically 'be nice' to their younger sibling, eliciting more groans from the boy. Luke stood up, and dusted himself off, while also placing his shades back on his face.
"But just in case..." Luke trailed off, walking toward the exit and right outside. Lifting the new gun into the air and as far from his face as possible; Luke braced himself.
BANG!
BANG!
BANG!
There. Those sounds were bound to attract somebody here. Just like before, this new gun was quite the loud one, making Luke's ears ring a bit, but Luke was getting used to that as well, but shit if it didn't hurt a little. Luke walked back to Jethro and knelled down to him one more time.
"Well, my dear Jethy, I called more folks here for you, so yeah. Just continue doing what you do." He stood up. "If you die, well just keep in mind, you won't be dying in vain. You helped a bro out, big time. Thanks for the gun!" He said as he turned to exit the building before someone more dangerous came by. Luke just couldn't do it himself. He just didn't have it in him to kill somebody so easily, like that even if it was pretty much a free kill. No he was not going to kill anybody. Not yet. He shoved the gun away in his bag as well as the machete.
He turned his head back in a moment of remorse, before leaving. "Umm, there's a shovel in the garage and the baseball bat's still there if you need it..."
[[Luke Mendoza Continued To: The Calamity Symphony.]]
((Luke Mendoza Continued From: Vioectrolysis.))
Well it turned out that black kid was really damn fast. Luke had a difficult time catching up. He lost him around the helipad area, with Luke needing to stop and catch his breath for a minute or two. However Luke, took it easy for a bit, knowing that the kid was probably in the only possible building, with the direction he was heading. According to the map, it was the garage/depot. So he headed that way.
Luke entered through the garage first, walking slowly and carefully surveying the area. It was eerily quiet, another situation where someone could just outright ambush him. He'd gone paranoid from the last one; half expecting the guy he followed here to go shooting at him, or the Mason twins to make their second appearance. Instead he found something much worse... Right next to a bloody shovel was an unrecognizable mess on the floor, of what used to be human. An image of Henry Barren's bloody face flashed into his mind.
Luke took a deep breath and closed his eyes for a moment, then quickly opened them again, knowing what happened the last time he was near a bloody body. It was easier now, he has already seen one like this before. Just move on. Someone did the job for you. It's what you want. All part of the plan. That's right all part of the plan. A smell, of ash entered the boy's nose, from the other end of the garage toward the Depot. This area was more interesting than he thought.
*
"Good. Lord..." He said as he saw the results of a now small fire in the depot. The room was practically marked in black. Soot on the floor, and on the cars. And... Yes, another body... no two. Charred and burnt to a crisp, right next to each other; hand in hand. It wasn't as bad as the bloody messes of the bodies before this, so he got over them pretty quickly. Moving on, careful not to step on any body parts this time.
Then he saw it, near the cars... a gun. He hoped it wasn't a trap. Luke readied his own firearm, as he walked to the cars, avoiding the left over flames.
A noise.
Someone was alive! Groaning on the floor!
To his surprise it was the same boy he followed earlier. And he recognized him. It was Jethro Stuarts, writhing on the ground. Next to him was a bloodied baseball bat, and surprise surprise! More Dead Bodies.
There were three; all just like Henry Barren and that other body; all drenched in blood. Luke could only assume. What on earth happened here? Six Dead Bodies. All in one place. Jesus. Something like this would have probably made Luke sick, but he'd become desensitized by now. That was good. He was getting better at this. After all, six bodies meant... another 6 steps closer to finish Logan Sorenson's 'plan' and get out of here. Luke somehow smiled....
Great! Now you got the right idea Luke. His inner voice sounded alot like Sor now. Yes Sor, and don't I know it.
This was the absolute definition of what the whole 'plan' was about: Let people fight off and kill each other, until they get severely weakened like Jethro here. Jethro probably went all vengeful on the white kids who tormented him in school, for being black or something. And from the looks of things they got it back... badly.
*
Luke Mendoza set down his bag and knelled to the groaning Jethro. He removed his shades to get a better look at the boy's face. Clapping mock-enthusiastically in response to all of this 'work.'
"Great. Work. Jethro... Bro..!" He said in a mildly amused, voice.
"Six? you got six of them in one sitting? That's amazing. Oh and you messed those three up pretty badly." Luke picked up Jethro's gun, as the kid continued to groan in agony. "I'll take that!"
Jethro held his head in pain, as Luke looked on feeling a little sorry for him, but he was too dangerous to help. Luke simply rifled through Jethro's bag, picking out some bullets and clips. It was a newer gun, so Luke had to check the manual first. This was good, as he'd already used many of the bullets in his revolver. The new gun was bigger than the last and not easily concealable. There was also a Machete in one of the duffel bags owned by one of those dead bodies. Luke took that as well. Maybe he'd use these new weapons as 'gifts' to help 'sway' or 'encourage' others to follow up with the 'plan' as well. Yes that's what Luke will do.
"Sorry, I can't help you. You're just too dangerous. But thanks for all your help. Really. I appreciate it!" Luke said as he snapped the clip in place, getting a feel of the new weapon. He should have felt weird, talking to an injured boy, who was not even able to respond, but that's what happens to Luke when he is left alone with no one to talk to for a while; he just loses it a little and talks too much when he finally does.
"Here have a drink on me!" he said uncorking the hard liquor from his bag and pouring some on the boy's face. Luke was enjoying himself a little too much.
"Keep up the good work." Luke said while patting Jethro's forehead like an older sibling would do, to sarcastically 'be nice' to their younger sibling, eliciting more groans from the boy. Luke stood up, and dusted himself off, while also placing his shades back on his face.
"But just in case..." Luke trailed off, walking toward the exit and right outside. Lifting the new gun into the air and as far from his face as possible; Luke braced himself.
BANG!
BANG!
BANG!
There. Those sounds were bound to attract somebody here. Just like before, this new gun was quite the loud one, making Luke's ears ring a bit, but Luke was getting used to that as well, but shit if it didn't hurt a little. Luke walked back to Jethro and knelled down to him one more time.
"Well, my dear Jethy, I called more folks here for you, so yeah. Just continue doing what you do." He stood up. "If you die, well just keep in mind, you won't be dying in vain. You helped a bro out, big time. Thanks for the gun!" He said as he turned to exit the building before someone more dangerous came by. Luke just couldn't do it himself. He just didn't have it in him to kill somebody so easily, like that even if it was pretty much a free kill. No he was not going to kill anybody. Not yet. He shoved the gun away in his bag as well as the machete.
He turned his head back in a moment of remorse, before leaving. "Umm, there's a shovel in the garage and the baseball bat's still there if you need it..."
[[Luke Mendoza Continued To: The Calamity Symphony.]]
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peregrineink*
- Posts: 322
- Joined: Tue Aug 14, 2018 2:39 am
Swiftly, silently, Maddie made her way down the halls to follow the sound. She wasn't surprised when she entered the depot, the very same place where this all began. She had missed Matthew Payne there, what seemed like so long ago. It was amazing to her to believe that at one point she wasn't sure if she could continue with her art, at one point she was terrified to switch her mediums.
Maddie had walked into a giant blank canvas, the masterpiece already underway. Splashes of pigment decorated the floors in exotic patterns, and bodies littered the floor just asking to be molded, the smell of burnt flesh hung in the air and she frowned a little bit. The charred bodies would be incredibly hard to mold. There was a faint groaning, was someone still alive?
There was a boy on the floor, groaning pathetically next to a bloody baseball bat. Well, this masterpiece was certainly unfinished. She raised her gun and...
No.
She had used that tool too many times already, wasn't it time for her to expand her horizons?
There was a bloody baseball bat lying next to him. Maddie tucked the gun into a side pocket of her overalls. Bobbing like some sort of manic creature of legend, she clumsily danced over to bat and picked it up. It felt almost heavy in her hands, as though the blood had added a thousand pounds. She swung it in the air, testing it out like a batter on deck. She looked down at Jethro's pitifully moaning body, her eyes radiating love and inspiration.
"You are beautiful," she said.
And she brought the bat crashing down.
Maddie had walked into a giant blank canvas, the masterpiece already underway. Splashes of pigment decorated the floors in exotic patterns, and bodies littered the floor just asking to be molded, the smell of burnt flesh hung in the air and she frowned a little bit. The charred bodies would be incredibly hard to mold. There was a faint groaning, was someone still alive?
There was a boy on the floor, groaning pathetically next to a bloody baseball bat. Well, this masterpiece was certainly unfinished. She raised her gun and...
No.
She had used that tool too many times already, wasn't it time for her to expand her horizons?
There was a bloody baseball bat lying next to him. Maddie tucked the gun into a side pocket of her overalls. Bobbing like some sort of manic creature of legend, she clumsily danced over to bat and picked it up. It felt almost heavy in her hands, as though the blood had added a thousand pounds. She swung it in the air, testing it out like a batter on deck. She looked down at Jethro's pitifully moaning body, her eyes radiating love and inspiration.
"You are beautiful," she said.
And she brought the bat crashing down.
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Carrion Queen
- Posts: 427
- Joined: Tue Aug 14, 2018 6:35 am
((Kendra Jones continued from Splatterworks ))
Kendra had followed Maddie from the armory, mostly at her side quietly though now and again she'd perk up with a mention of her art. Kendra honestly had no idea what sort art could be made in this place, but it was an admirable thing to fill your time with when faced with impending death. And the girl was good, no doubt. She's seen some of her things around school. It was getting late.
Kendra looked up to the sky so see if it was dark enough yet to see the moon. Sadly, she could not see the moon, not yet at least anyway. Maybe it would rise when night had properly set in. The moon. It reminded her of her sister.
The moon reminded her of her sisters. It wasn't always around and it she sometimes took it for granted but the times she remembered how wonderful it was it made her smile.
Unfortunately this musing caused her to lose track of Maddie. She was sure she hadn't gotten far, she could hear the foot steps still. Kendra hurried in the direction she thought she'd gone off in.
"Hey Maddie?"
Kendra walked into a garage of some kind. There she saw the girl, standing over the bloody body of a boy with a bat in hand.
Kendra covered her mouth and took a step back.
"What the fuck..." came out softly under her hand.
Kendra had followed Maddie from the armory, mostly at her side quietly though now and again she'd perk up with a mention of her art. Kendra honestly had no idea what sort art could be made in this place, but it was an admirable thing to fill your time with when faced with impending death. And the girl was good, no doubt. She's seen some of her things around school. It was getting late.
Kendra looked up to the sky so see if it was dark enough yet to see the moon. Sadly, she could not see the moon, not yet at least anyway. Maybe it would rise when night had properly set in. The moon. It reminded her of her sister.
The moon reminded her of her sisters. It wasn't always around and it she sometimes took it for granted but the times she remembered how wonderful it was it made her smile.
Unfortunately this musing caused her to lose track of Maddie. She was sure she hadn't gotten far, she could hear the foot steps still. Kendra hurried in the direction she thought she'd gone off in.
"Hey Maddie?"
Kendra walked into a garage of some kind. There she saw the girl, standing over the bloody body of a boy with a bat in hand.
Kendra covered her mouth and took a step back.
"What the fuck..." came out softly under her hand.
Luke Mendoza, that bastard. How could he be so damn cheerful at a time like this? The obvious answer was that in Jethro he'd seen little more than easy pickings, and in truth he'd probably been right. The side of his head felt wet, matted, and not with the 'drink' Luke had decided to give him. Jeth was dizzy, his vision was all blurred and try as he might he just could not get himself to his feet.
Fucking Luke. Fucking. Mendoza.
And he had the nerve to skip off saying that he'd left weapons around to help after calling in the goddamn wolves on him with those gunshots? Just freaking... - somebody stepped into the garage - ...peachy.
Oh shit. Oh shit.
Maddie Harris. She'd killed already. C'mon Jeth, COME ON JETH MOVE YOURSELF.
It felt like the ground beneath him was about to give way at any second, simply vanish into nothingness. He tried to get up, a moan escaping him as a rush of pain went to his head. He looked up desperately, trying to figure how much time he had left-
And the last thing he ever saw was the baseball bat rushing towards his face.
M13, JETHRO STUARTS: DECEASED
Fucking Luke. Fucking. Mendoza.
And he had the nerve to skip off saying that he'd left weapons around to help after calling in the goddamn wolves on him with those gunshots? Just freaking... - somebody stepped into the garage - ...peachy.
Oh shit. Oh shit.
Maddie Harris. She'd killed already. C'mon Jeth, COME ON JETH MOVE YOURSELF.
It felt like the ground beneath him was about to give way at any second, simply vanish into nothingness. He tried to get up, a moan escaping him as a rush of pain went to his head. He looked up desperately, trying to figure how much time he had left-
And the last thing he ever saw was the baseball bat rushing towards his face.
M13, JETHRO STUARTS: DECEASED
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peregrineink*
- Posts: 322
- Joined: Tue Aug 14, 2018 2:39 am
They whispered among themselves in tremulous admiration as they looked at the newest addition to the gallery. It was such a departure from her work, that even the rather risque administrations of the artist paled in comparison.
It was a crude carving of a boy, made from stone, he stood rigid, his shoulders squared back. The stone from which he was carved was dark as obsidian, painted matte. There was a strangeness to the stone, it seemed almost pettable, almost like living skin. Many members of the crowd wanted to touch it, to see if it was as buttery soft as it looked. This was not the most fetching part of the entire sculpture was his head.
It was made entirely out of blood red peonies. They exploded outward, giant fleshy flowers dripping their petals in sumptuously to the ground, looking almost decadent in their violence.
Maddie stood beside her newest creation, lovingly fingering a baseball bat splattered with exquisite pigment.
"Due to the nature of the project I was forced to delve deeper into the art." She looked up at Jethro admiringly.
"I truly believe it to be my best work."
Peonies, they were all peonies, the place where is head used to be. It dripped every which way, and Maddie herself couldn't properly remember when she had stopped the creation. She had lost count of the swings of the bat at around thirty, but who was she to know? Did it matter? All she knew was that she had created a rather beautiful shattered effect with his skull.
And it all looked like peonies.
She looked up at Kendra, her pale eyes shining with achievement. Kendra had her hand over her mouth and she had said something, but Maddie would not be surprised if they were just breathless words of stunned amazement. She beamed at Kendra, radiating promise.
"Do you see?" She asked. "Do you see the art?"
It was a crude carving of a boy, made from stone, he stood rigid, his shoulders squared back. The stone from which he was carved was dark as obsidian, painted matte. There was a strangeness to the stone, it seemed almost pettable, almost like living skin. Many members of the crowd wanted to touch it, to see if it was as buttery soft as it looked. This was not the most fetching part of the entire sculpture was his head.
It was made entirely out of blood red peonies. They exploded outward, giant fleshy flowers dripping their petals in sumptuously to the ground, looking almost decadent in their violence.
Maddie stood beside her newest creation, lovingly fingering a baseball bat splattered with exquisite pigment.
"Due to the nature of the project I was forced to delve deeper into the art." She looked up at Jethro admiringly.
"I truly believe it to be my best work."
Peonies, they were all peonies, the place where is head used to be. It dripped every which way, and Maddie herself couldn't properly remember when she had stopped the creation. She had lost count of the swings of the bat at around thirty, but who was she to know? Did it matter? All she knew was that she had created a rather beautiful shattered effect with his skull.
And it all looked like peonies.
She looked up at Kendra, her pale eyes shining with achievement. Kendra had her hand over her mouth and she had said something, but Maddie would not be surprised if they were just breathless words of stunned amazement. She beamed at Kendra, radiating promise.
"Do you see?" She asked. "Do you see the art?"
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler peregrineink. While this handler hasn't been around in quite a while, should they return and wish to take custody of this account and/or its posts, they are welcome to do so by contacting staff.
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Carrion Queen
- Posts: 427
- Joined: Tue Aug 14, 2018 6:35 am
((SHORT POST OF SHORTNESS))
Kendra took her hand away from her mouth and swallowed. She glued a sweet smile onto her face. The blood was everywhere, running in the cracks in the ground around her. Well, everywhere except for inside Jethro's head. She was snapped out from the odd calm she'd had while traveling with Maddie.
Bitch is crazy.
"I see," she said carefully. "I-It's very...." she tilted her head as if studying it. In reality she felt she might vomit. "....very moving. I-I think it's overwhelming me with emotions. Yes. I am overwhelmed."
This was truth. Kendra was trying to suppress herself from gagging.
"I think I need a moment."
Kendra walked out of the building, calmly, smoothly. As soon as she was out of sight she took off running.
((Kendra Jones continued in Trauma))
Kendra took her hand away from her mouth and swallowed. She glued a sweet smile onto her face. The blood was everywhere, running in the cracks in the ground around her. Well, everywhere except for inside Jethro's head. She was snapped out from the odd calm she'd had while traveling with Maddie.
Bitch is crazy.
"I see," she said carefully. "I-It's very...." she tilted her head as if studying it. In reality she felt she might vomit. "....very moving. I-I think it's overwhelming me with emotions. Yes. I am overwhelmed."
This was truth. Kendra was trying to suppress herself from gagging.
"I think I need a moment."
Kendra walked out of the building, calmly, smoothly. As soon as she was out of sight she took off running.
((Kendra Jones continued in Trauma))
-
peregrineink*
- Posts: 322
- Joined: Tue Aug 14, 2018 2:39 am
Maddie radiated happiness as her first critic fled the scene. Oh yes. She was pleased with the visceral reaction that her work inspired in others, although she wished that the awe that Kendra felt didn't fill her with such emotion that she had to flee, however, there was work to do.
She was surrounded with so many materials.
Maddie walked over to one of the bodies, kneeling by its side like some terrifying battlefield nurse. When she leaned forward, she found a strawberry blonde braid had flopped over her shoulder. She glanced down, watching the tip of her reddish blonde braid swimming in thick, viscous red. She lifted it gingerly out of the slow growing puddle of blood, and stared at it. To say that it looked like a paintbrush would be saying that a kidney sort of looked like a urine filtration system. She dipped the end of her braid back into the blood again, collecting more of the pigment, before turning to the body, a girl with long chestnut hair. Maddie crept close to the still, unbreathing figure, taking in the gunshot wound, noting the faint indications of freckles under a light layer of foundation. Maddie absentmindedly touched her own face, speckled and spattered with her own freckles, as well as blood, her fingertips left a trail of brownish red blood on her cheek as she moved it away. Should she have covered her freckles when deciding who she was going to be?
Maddie tried to paint the girl's face with the end of her braid, but the blood at this point was too gummy. It also felt...empty? She got up and walked over to a girl with short dirty blonde hair who looked beaten, kneeling beside this one she attempted to pick up the unbroken arm, and attempted to move it into some sort of position that would be more artistic to her. The rigor mortis had set in, unfortunately, and the body was not as pliable as Maddie would have liked. She frowned, none of this was satisfying to her, none of this art was hers.
Maybe it was because she had not made it herself? Maddie had thought that it didn't matter, that the product left behind was the medium of art, however as she thought of it, she had never once touched a finished sculpture in this place. She had never once had that time to look over and pick and prod and tweak until it was perfect.
But they had always felt perfect! She frowned deeper and walked back over to Jethro again. She had never bene left alone with one of her pieces of art before, it was quiet, she could smell something strange and meaty under the pervasive smell of soot and burnt pieces and flesh. She looked down at Jethro and felt a sort of kinship with it.
Sort of. The moment was gone, all of these silent sculptures in the depot weren't hers, not anymore. As an artist her attachment was to the process, not to the finished product, that was for everyone else.
With a sigh, Maddie stood, shouldering her back, securing her gun, and picking up the bloodied baseball bat. It was time to move on and find more subjects. Kendra could find her once she took control of her overwhelming emotions, Maddie understood that some artists could be volatile, prisoners of her own emotion, so she could not begrudge Kendra, a dancer who paints art with her entire body, for her feelings. Maddie just had a different process.
Gripping the bat and making sure her gun was in easy reach, Maddie headed out, hopefully the next subject would be a little more interactive...
(Madeline Harris continued in Who Needs Direction?)
She was surrounded with so many materials.
Maddie walked over to one of the bodies, kneeling by its side like some terrifying battlefield nurse. When she leaned forward, she found a strawberry blonde braid had flopped over her shoulder. She glanced down, watching the tip of her reddish blonde braid swimming in thick, viscous red. She lifted it gingerly out of the slow growing puddle of blood, and stared at it. To say that it looked like a paintbrush would be saying that a kidney sort of looked like a urine filtration system. She dipped the end of her braid back into the blood again, collecting more of the pigment, before turning to the body, a girl with long chestnut hair. Maddie crept close to the still, unbreathing figure, taking in the gunshot wound, noting the faint indications of freckles under a light layer of foundation. Maddie absentmindedly touched her own face, speckled and spattered with her own freckles, as well as blood, her fingertips left a trail of brownish red blood on her cheek as she moved it away. Should she have covered her freckles when deciding who she was going to be?
Maddie tried to paint the girl's face with the end of her braid, but the blood at this point was too gummy. It also felt...empty? She got up and walked over to a girl with short dirty blonde hair who looked beaten, kneeling beside this one she attempted to pick up the unbroken arm, and attempted to move it into some sort of position that would be more artistic to her. The rigor mortis had set in, unfortunately, and the body was not as pliable as Maddie would have liked. She frowned, none of this was satisfying to her, none of this art was hers.
Maybe it was because she had not made it herself? Maddie had thought that it didn't matter, that the product left behind was the medium of art, however as she thought of it, she had never once touched a finished sculpture in this place. She had never once had that time to look over and pick and prod and tweak until it was perfect.
But they had always felt perfect! She frowned deeper and walked back over to Jethro again. She had never bene left alone with one of her pieces of art before, it was quiet, she could smell something strange and meaty under the pervasive smell of soot and burnt pieces and flesh. She looked down at Jethro and felt a sort of kinship with it.
Sort of. The moment was gone, all of these silent sculptures in the depot weren't hers, not anymore. As an artist her attachment was to the process, not to the finished product, that was for everyone else.
With a sigh, Maddie stood, shouldering her back, securing her gun, and picking up the bloodied baseball bat. It was time to move on and find more subjects. Kendra could find her once she took control of her overwhelming emotions, Maddie understood that some artists could be volatile, prisoners of her own emotion, so she could not begrudge Kendra, a dancer who paints art with her entire body, for her feelings. Maddie just had a different process.
Gripping the bat and making sure her gun was in easy reach, Maddie headed out, hopefully the next subject would be a little more interactive...
(Madeline Harris continued in Who Needs Direction?)
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