((Beatrice Briggs continued from Healing Grid))
All good things came to an end. So Arthur Briggs had a habit of saying.
Beatrice didn’t fully get a lot of the phrases her dad would repeat, but this was one of the exceptions that she could fully comprehend, for the most part at least. She didn’t think it was quite as simple as that, for reasons that she couldn’t properly form into words, and she didn’t think it applied to everything in the world, for reasons that she could. She could save her game in Pokemon Shield, exit to the Switch home screen, and turn the console off, and she supposed that was an ending of sorts, in a way. But it wasn’t as though she was completely unable to turn it back on again later, and it wasn’t like she was permanently prevented from accessing her saved data ever again. The football season would come to a close, only to start back up again a few months later. Day would turn to night, but the sun would never be lost forever.
Most things ended. Most things started again, too. If she had been allowed to create the phrase, she probably would have said something like ‘All good things must pause for a time’. For what it currently was, though, she could understand and accept it.
The stillness and silence in the forest had returned to her, briefly interrupted by the shock of static a little while earlier that had made her wince and press her hands to her ears. She had kept them there, muffling the harsh noise that seemed to be coming from everywhere at once, until she was certain it had gone for good. Her eardrums had been ringing for a little bit after that, but just like she had always believed, the shrouded silence had come back within short order.
The peace and tranquility of these woods, though, was most definitely on pause for now.
The blood cut such a stark contrast on the snow that it felt more like a beacon than anything else, demanding the attention of everyone and anyone in the vicinity, forcing them in its direction. Beatrice couldn’t keep her eyes away from it, even as it sent a chill creeping all the way down her spine, even as it started to draw bile up from her stomach. Her fingers rapped against the axe handle, over and over and over again, tap tap tap, tap tap tap, but it was refusing to perform its usual effect, no matter how often she did it. She knew what had happened here. There was only one option, even if she couldn’t bring herself to even say it in the sanctuary of her own mind; she hadn’t managed to fool herself after waking up that certain people wouldn’t be desperate or scared or cornered enough to take it. There was no sign of any person, in any state, in any direction that she could see.
Whoever had been here before her had moved. Or, and she felt herself choking on something as she considered it, been moved.
They could have still been close by. Hidden behind a tree, or crouching in the shadows, waiting for someone to be drawn in by the bright red splatters, unable to temper their morbid curiosity. Maybe it had happened recently, and they were resting in a nest of tangled roots after a long and bloody fight. Maybe it had happened last night and they had camped out in the vicinity to carry on their actions from the previous day. Any of those options could have been possible. Someone could have been creeping up behind her right at this moment.
But Beatrice couldn’t force herself to move, and she couldn't tear her eyes away from the trails of blood in front of her. She stared. She shivered.
Tap tap tap.
My father told me
Early Day 2 - Open, but expect guests!
My father told me
"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
But there had been something creeping up on Beatrice. Something shrouded in the bitter dark morning chill.
A phantom formally known as Shu Hawthorne, hidden among the silvers and greens of the forest, slowly approached her, his movements and pauses locked in tandem with Beatrice's but with his own form concealed by the trees and the hundreds of feet of clearance between him and his little snowshoe hare.
His hands stayed shoved in the pockets of his coat, his hood was drawn, and his breathing was heavy as he stood behind one of the trees, his face obscured in darkness as he kept watching her.
And watching her.
Waiting.
A phantom formally known as Shu Hawthorne, hidden among the silvers and greens of the forest, slowly approached her, his movements and pauses locked in tandem with Beatrice's but with his own form concealed by the trees and the hundreds of feet of clearance between him and his little snowshoe hare.
His hands stayed shoved in the pockets of his coat, his hood was drawn, and his breathing was heavy as he stood behind one of the trees, his face obscured in darkness as he kept watching her.
And watching her.
Waiting.
((Rebekah Hayes continued from It's Quite Hard Enough Just Living With The Stuff I Had Learned))
The daily announcements had rung out a while ago. Rebekah had listened with some amount of trepidation, letting the information wash over her. A human named Kitty and a human named Janice had killed two people each. She'd have to watch out for them. Aracelis had killed a human named Constance. Mallory's death came a fair ways down the list, and Rebekah was careful not to look at Jess when it came up. At least the announcer had been kind of fair about it, mentioning that Mal had tried to kill Jess first. Someone named Steve had died. It might have been the guy who'd gone out with Dani for a while and then after she dumped him, he asked out all of the other cheerleaders one after another. By the end, she counted eleven deaths - mostly humans she didn't know, killed by other humans she didn't know. The class had already lost almost a tenth of its population. Decimated was the term for that. It was a thing the Romans used to do, killing a tenth of the humans they conquered to keep the rest in line. Seemed like trivia the terrorists would have enjoyed.
None of the other cheerleaders were on the list, as victims or as killers. They were out there, surviving. So were Fitz, Angelo, and Teddie. She was glad for that, at least.
The announcements told them to stay out of the cave, which was fortuitous. Neither of them had particularly wanted to hang around there with Mallory's corpse anyway. Burying it or dragging it out of there would have taken energy that neither of them wanted to spend. Intraspecific necrophagy might have been a potential option for disposal, especially given Jess' assigned weapon; but they were both too wrung out emotionally to have considered it, and neither of them had anything that'd help with preparation. In the end, they'd just left the body to the darkness. Perhaps whatever creature called the cave home would be happy for an unexpected meal. Or perhaps Mallory would become just another set of bones on the cave floor. It was hard to say.
But speaking of things that lived and died on the island... the wildlife in this forest felt wrong. It wasn't just that there were the cameras scattered around everywhere. Metal and glass tended to ruin nature's flow at the best of times, but it was more than that. There just didn't seem to be a lot of life in it. The bones in the cave suggested a relatively wide ecosystem - large things to eat, and large predators for them to be eaten by. There were a few signs of forest ungulates - bark torn away by deer long ago, and a few stray tracks in the snow - but no sign of the animals themselves. Even the smaller animals didn't seem to be particularly active today - some species would surely be hibernating for winter, but even the odd squirrel or bird that she spotted seemed... defensive. More skittish than you'd expect in a remote place like this. Almost everything turned tail and vanished into the snow and underbrush as soon as they caught sight of her. This could potentially be down to her violently blue Snuggie of Power, but it seemed like more than that. Like they could sense the death and malevolence going on here, and they wanted no part of it. Whatever this place was, it felt like the terrorists had even violated nature itself in preparing it for them. Somehow that unsettled her more than being stranded on an island with at least nine murderers.
She was so lost in this train of thought that she didn't spot the human figure until it was embarrassingly close. It was wearing a jacket in familiar colors - one of Endecotts' letterman's jackets. Wait, was that the big human girl from the lacrosse team? It was hard to make out, but she appeared to be holding an axe, looking rather like Paul Bunyan in his varsity days. She was just standing there, staring into the distance, like she was in a trance.
"Huh," Rebekah said. She looked down at the sea of blue that was her torso. Stealth wasn't going to be an option here. Might as well try to avoid a confrontation if they could.
"Uh... hey!" she shouted, waving. "Are you all right?"
The daily announcements had rung out a while ago. Rebekah had listened with some amount of trepidation, letting the information wash over her. A human named Kitty and a human named Janice had killed two people each. She'd have to watch out for them. Aracelis had killed a human named Constance. Mallory's death came a fair ways down the list, and Rebekah was careful not to look at Jess when it came up. At least the announcer had been kind of fair about it, mentioning that Mal had tried to kill Jess first. Someone named Steve had died. It might have been the guy who'd gone out with Dani for a while and then after she dumped him, he asked out all of the other cheerleaders one after another. By the end, she counted eleven deaths - mostly humans she didn't know, killed by other humans she didn't know. The class had already lost almost a tenth of its population. Decimated was the term for that. It was a thing the Romans used to do, killing a tenth of the humans they conquered to keep the rest in line. Seemed like trivia the terrorists would have enjoyed.
None of the other cheerleaders were on the list, as victims or as killers. They were out there, surviving. So were Fitz, Angelo, and Teddie. She was glad for that, at least.
The announcements told them to stay out of the cave, which was fortuitous. Neither of them had particularly wanted to hang around there with Mallory's corpse anyway. Burying it or dragging it out of there would have taken energy that neither of them wanted to spend. Intraspecific necrophagy might have been a potential option for disposal, especially given Jess' assigned weapon; but they were both too wrung out emotionally to have considered it, and neither of them had anything that'd help with preparation. In the end, they'd just left the body to the darkness. Perhaps whatever creature called the cave home would be happy for an unexpected meal. Or perhaps Mallory would become just another set of bones on the cave floor. It was hard to say.
But speaking of things that lived and died on the island... the wildlife in this forest felt wrong. It wasn't just that there were the cameras scattered around everywhere. Metal and glass tended to ruin nature's flow at the best of times, but it was more than that. There just didn't seem to be a lot of life in it. The bones in the cave suggested a relatively wide ecosystem - large things to eat, and large predators for them to be eaten by. There were a few signs of forest ungulates - bark torn away by deer long ago, and a few stray tracks in the snow - but no sign of the animals themselves. Even the smaller animals didn't seem to be particularly active today - some species would surely be hibernating for winter, but even the odd squirrel or bird that she spotted seemed... defensive. More skittish than you'd expect in a remote place like this. Almost everything turned tail and vanished into the snow and underbrush as soon as they caught sight of her. This could potentially be down to her violently blue Snuggie of Power, but it seemed like more than that. Like they could sense the death and malevolence going on here, and they wanted no part of it. Whatever this place was, it felt like the terrorists had even violated nature itself in preparing it for them. Somehow that unsettled her more than being stranded on an island with at least nine murderers.
She was so lost in this train of thought that she didn't spot the human figure until it was embarrassingly close. It was wearing a jacket in familiar colors - one of Endecotts' letterman's jackets. Wait, was that the big human girl from the lacrosse team? It was hard to make out, but she appeared to be holding an axe, looking rather like Paul Bunyan in his varsity days. She was just standing there, staring into the distance, like she was in a trance.
"Huh," Rebekah said. She looked down at the sea of blue that was her torso. Stealth wasn't going to be an option here. Might as well try to avoid a confrontation if they could.
"Uh... hey!" she shouted, waving. "Are you all right?"
V8 Characters:
Juanita Reid
Rebekah Hayes
Karin Han
EXTREME STEVE Dodds
Juanita Reid
Rebekah Hayes
Karin Han
EXTREME STEVE Dodds
((Jessica Romero continued from Cambrian))
Everyone on the island knew she had shot Mallory. Jessica had won the fight in so much as she was the one who still lived, in every other way it felt like a loss. It wasn't purely due to shame from her actions, although she felt it all the same. But in a way, she felt that all she had succeeded in doing was prove Mallory right. Everything she'd said about her during their brawl now had that element of truth, angels didn't shoot people in the back. If Rebekah had any thoughts on the matter she had thankfully kept them to herself. Jessica appreciated that, even if it had led to some awkward silences on their journey.
Occasionally on their walk, her head pulsed with pain, the large egg that had formed where Mallory had slammed her into the ground making its displeasure at its existence known. Jessica empathized with it as she didn't want to be there any more than it did, but they were both stuck on the island so had to make the best of it. In trying to do just that, as well as keep her mind off her actions, Jessica had been focused on taking in the scenery around them. The mountain itself loomed large as they had left the cave. A combination of both being kicked out through the ruling of the announcement itself and neither of them waiting to remain within its confines. The mountain itself was awe-inspiring, just the presence of something like it on an island seemed to make it appear bigger.
Jessica had wanted to ascend rather than descend into the forest but Rebekah had taken the lead and she hadn't felt like pushing the issue, although she still felt the dark gray granite face of the structure calling out to her. The forest had its own charm but hiking wasn't Jessica's first love. Still the gentle dripping of water from the higher branches and the morning haze that glimmered when the light caught it would have been magical if not for the context she saw it in. The dripping became white noise that dulled her ears and the mist a screen to obscure threats.
Suddenly, Rebekah pulled up and stopped walking, causing Jessica to slow down until she was level with the other girl. Following her sightline, Jessica caught saw the reason for Rebekah's sudden stop. There was someone else in the forest with them, the first person they'd seen since leaving the cave.
The clothes, size, and silhouette of the figure were an instant giveaway as to who it was.
"It's Beatrice," Jessica whispered to Rebekah once she had called out. "She should be alright."
Everyone on the island knew she had shot Mallory. Jessica had won the fight in so much as she was the one who still lived, in every other way it felt like a loss. It wasn't purely due to shame from her actions, although she felt it all the same. But in a way, she felt that all she had succeeded in doing was prove Mallory right. Everything she'd said about her during their brawl now had that element of truth, angels didn't shoot people in the back. If Rebekah had any thoughts on the matter she had thankfully kept them to herself. Jessica appreciated that, even if it had led to some awkward silences on their journey.
Occasionally on their walk, her head pulsed with pain, the large egg that had formed where Mallory had slammed her into the ground making its displeasure at its existence known. Jessica empathized with it as she didn't want to be there any more than it did, but they were both stuck on the island so had to make the best of it. In trying to do just that, as well as keep her mind off her actions, Jessica had been focused on taking in the scenery around them. The mountain itself loomed large as they had left the cave. A combination of both being kicked out through the ruling of the announcement itself and neither of them waiting to remain within its confines. The mountain itself was awe-inspiring, just the presence of something like it on an island seemed to make it appear bigger.
Jessica had wanted to ascend rather than descend into the forest but Rebekah had taken the lead and she hadn't felt like pushing the issue, although she still felt the dark gray granite face of the structure calling out to her. The forest had its own charm but hiking wasn't Jessica's first love. Still the gentle dripping of water from the higher branches and the morning haze that glimmered when the light caught it would have been magical if not for the context she saw it in. The dripping became white noise that dulled her ears and the mist a screen to obscure threats.
Suddenly, Rebekah pulled up and stopped walking, causing Jessica to slow down until she was level with the other girl. Following her sightline, Jessica caught saw the reason for Rebekah's sudden stop. There was someone else in the forest with them, the first person they'd seen since leaving the cave.
The clothes, size, and silhouette of the figure were an instant giveaway as to who it was.
"It's Beatrice," Jessica whispered to Rebekah once she had called out. "She should be alright."
It wasn’t until she heard Rebekah calling out to her that Beatrice realised just how exposed she truly was.
She had thought she’d heard something creeping up through the undergrowth a little while earlier, you know. The rustling of bushes and branches being pushed to one side, the dry crackling of twigs snapping underfoot, the crunch of snow compacting underneath a boot. There’d been no way of telling for certain, though; it could just as easily have been a deer or some other woodland creature wandering nearby as another human being approaching her. Equally likely was it to all have been in her head, the general malaise that hung over the island playing tricks on her, prompting her to hear and see things that didn’t exist.
And regardless of what the truth was, it still wasn’t enough to tear her away from the bloody aftermath strewn about in the snow in front of her. It was one thing to be told that the intention was to be the last person standing, by virtue of killing everyone else around you, another thing to admit and acknowledge that regardless of her own thoughts on the matter people would follow through with those instructions. And it was something else entirely to see evidence of the latter right before her very eyes.
Blood didn’t scare her normally; it was just, well, blood. It was inside of everybody. The worst thing about it was the texture. But the sheer volume of it, staining the snow red, that was enough to make her heartbeat race and her breath to stick in her throat. It was abnormal, much too much to have been caused by anything benign, practically an ocean when compared to the amount she lost from a bleeding nose or a particularly bad cut or scrape. It wasn’t natural. It was as though a skyscraper had sprung up in the middle of the forest overnight. Impossible and out of place, and yet so obviously real that she knew that she could walk over and touch it right this moment.
The sound of a human voice, though, that was much harder to ignore than the sounds of something - or nothing - fumbling its way through the woods. It cut through her stupor, making Beatrice flinch and let out a little cry of alarm. She swiveled, turning to face the direction the shouting had come from. She clutched the axe, but it was pressed so tightly to her chest that it might as well have been permanently affixed there.
Two girls approached her, making their way out of the treeline. There were plenty of things she could say about Jessica and Rebekah, classes that she had shared with them, friendly conversations held and greetings exchanged while passing by in the corridors. An entire history shared, that was cast into the shade by the rifle cradled in Rebekah’s arms.
It wasn’t aimed at her.
It wasn’t aimed at her yet.
“Please don’t…”
There was a tremor in her voice as she took a step backwards.
“Please don’t shoot me.”
There was blood at her back and a bullet at her front. She’d never felt smaller than she did right this moment.
“I haven’t done anything wrong.”
She felt her stomach churn and her eyes water, totally oblivious to the spectator watching the scene unfold in front of him, hidden away in the shadows behind her.
She had thought she’d heard something creeping up through the undergrowth a little while earlier, you know. The rustling of bushes and branches being pushed to one side, the dry crackling of twigs snapping underfoot, the crunch of snow compacting underneath a boot. There’d been no way of telling for certain, though; it could just as easily have been a deer or some other woodland creature wandering nearby as another human being approaching her. Equally likely was it to all have been in her head, the general malaise that hung over the island playing tricks on her, prompting her to hear and see things that didn’t exist.
And regardless of what the truth was, it still wasn’t enough to tear her away from the bloody aftermath strewn about in the snow in front of her. It was one thing to be told that the intention was to be the last person standing, by virtue of killing everyone else around you, another thing to admit and acknowledge that regardless of her own thoughts on the matter people would follow through with those instructions. And it was something else entirely to see evidence of the latter right before her very eyes.
Blood didn’t scare her normally; it was just, well, blood. It was inside of everybody. The worst thing about it was the texture. But the sheer volume of it, staining the snow red, that was enough to make her heartbeat race and her breath to stick in her throat. It was abnormal, much too much to have been caused by anything benign, practically an ocean when compared to the amount she lost from a bleeding nose or a particularly bad cut or scrape. It wasn’t natural. It was as though a skyscraper had sprung up in the middle of the forest overnight. Impossible and out of place, and yet so obviously real that she knew that she could walk over and touch it right this moment.
The sound of a human voice, though, that was much harder to ignore than the sounds of something - or nothing - fumbling its way through the woods. It cut through her stupor, making Beatrice flinch and let out a little cry of alarm. She swiveled, turning to face the direction the shouting had come from. She clutched the axe, but it was pressed so tightly to her chest that it might as well have been permanently affixed there.
Two girls approached her, making their way out of the treeline. There were plenty of things she could say about Jessica and Rebekah, classes that she had shared with them, friendly conversations held and greetings exchanged while passing by in the corridors. An entire history shared, that was cast into the shade by the rifle cradled in Rebekah’s arms.
It wasn’t aimed at her.
It wasn’t aimed at her yet.
“Please don’t…”
There was a tremor in her voice as she took a step backwards.
“Please don’t shoot me.”
There was blood at her back and a bullet at her front. She’d never felt smaller than she did right this moment.
“I haven’t done anything wrong.”
She felt her stomach churn and her eyes water, totally oblivious to the spectator watching the scene unfold in front of him, hidden away in the shadows behind her.
"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
Rebekah looked at Beatrice, who was clutching her axe haft tightly to her chest. The pose reminded her of a priest in a scary movie, clutching his crucifix to ward off vampire attacks. Begone, foul Rebekah! Go back from whence you came!
But then, something behind Beatrice caught Rebekah's attention. There were splashes of crimson in the snow. Something bad had happened here. Rebekah looked back at Beatrice. The big human was agitated, clearly on edge. Because of the gun? Because of the blood? Maybe both. Maybe neither. What had she said, again? That she hadn't done anything wrong. Rebekah's eyes snapped to the axe. The blade was clean. She could have wiped it. No, the arms of Beatrice's letterman's jacket were white. No trace of red. You couldn't wash bloodstains out, not here.
"Don't worry, I know you didn't do anything wrong," she said, keeping her voice calm and even. She punctuated the words by taking a half-step back. Not aggressing. Showing the human that she wasn't a threat, and opening up the space a little. Giving Beatrice options, giving her lots of room to choose flight over fight. That was what you were always supposed to do with bigger animals. Never box them in, because then the only escape route the animal has is through you. This advice, Rebekah thought, seemed doubly wise if the animal in question was holding a battleaxe.
"And I'm not going to shoot you." Rebekah held the gun in her mittened hands, angled such that it was only a threat to anybody standing ninety degrees to her left and several feet up a tree. "See? The gun's pointed over there. I don't even think I could fire it with these mitts on. We're just out on a hike, and we thought we'd make sure you were okay, that's all."
But then, something behind Beatrice caught Rebekah's attention. There were splashes of crimson in the snow. Something bad had happened here. Rebekah looked back at Beatrice. The big human was agitated, clearly on edge. Because of the gun? Because of the blood? Maybe both. Maybe neither. What had she said, again? That she hadn't done anything wrong. Rebekah's eyes snapped to the axe. The blade was clean. She could have wiped it. No, the arms of Beatrice's letterman's jacket were white. No trace of red. You couldn't wash bloodstains out, not here.
"Don't worry, I know you didn't do anything wrong," she said, keeping her voice calm and even. She punctuated the words by taking a half-step back. Not aggressing. Showing the human that she wasn't a threat, and opening up the space a little. Giving Beatrice options, giving her lots of room to choose flight over fight. That was what you were always supposed to do with bigger animals. Never box them in, because then the only escape route the animal has is through you. This advice, Rebekah thought, seemed doubly wise if the animal in question was holding a battleaxe.
"And I'm not going to shoot you." Rebekah held the gun in her mittened hands, angled such that it was only a threat to anybody standing ninety degrees to her left and several feet up a tree. "See? The gun's pointed over there. I don't even think I could fire it with these mitts on. We're just out on a hike, and we thought we'd make sure you were okay, that's all."
V8 Characters:
Juanita Reid
Rebekah Hayes
Karin Han
EXTREME STEVE Dodds
Juanita Reid
Rebekah Hayes
Karin Han
EXTREME STEVE Dodds
Like the specter haunting the woods, the presence of Shu Hawthorne disappeared into the exhausting sea of trees, leaving nothing behind but footsteps that told its own story of malice and what ifs.
((to be continued))
((to be continued))
It was a bad scene to stumble across. Jessica slowly squeezed her eyes shut and reopened them to refocus her vision. Beatrice was big, she was just one of those people who was naturally larger than others. Something to do with genetics Jessica was sure but it still sometimes took her by surprise by just how big some people could be. Beatrice was one of those people, with broad shoulders, muscular arms, and a wide back. She dwarfed Jessica herself and Rebekah only fared slightly better and that was with the snuggie on. If they were to fight Jessica could only imagine it would be like taking on a bear.
Luckily, it didn't seem like things were going to get to that. Beatrice, despite having an axe in hand and obvious splatters of blood behind her claimed innocence and Rebekah went along with it. Jessica frowned at that, the ease at which Rebekah accepted what Beatrice said. But she said nothing and let the other girl take the lead. If she ended up getting mauled then...then Jessica didn't know what she would have been able to help. Beatrice as well as being armed with her natural size also had a large axe in her hand. Jessica had a heater in her bag and a repeating rifle in Rebekah's possession that she didn't want to use a second time.
The blood shined brightly in the sun, the sparkle of the slowly melting snow making it appear almost pinkish and stand out even more than it normally would have.
"Yeah," Jessica said, from where she stood, appearing to support Rebekah.
"Do you have any idea what happened?"
Luckily, it didn't seem like things were going to get to that. Beatrice, despite having an axe in hand and obvious splatters of blood behind her claimed innocence and Rebekah went along with it. Jessica frowned at that, the ease at which Rebekah accepted what Beatrice said. But she said nothing and let the other girl take the lead. If she ended up getting mauled then...then Jessica didn't know what she would have been able to help. Beatrice as well as being armed with her natural size also had a large axe in her hand. Jessica had a heater in her bag and a repeating rifle in Rebekah's possession that she didn't want to use a second time.
The blood shined brightly in the sun, the sparkle of the slowly melting snow making it appear almost pinkish and stand out even more than it normally would have.
"Yeah," Jessica said, from where she stood, appearing to support Rebekah.
"Do you have any idea what happened?"
Beatrice hated the rigmarole of making eye contact at the best of times. It was intensely uncomfortable, looking directly at the person who was talking; it felt intrusive, it felt wrong. It would be weird to stare at someone who wasn’t talking to you, wouldn’t it? So why did people get irritated at her for looking over their shoulder or whatever was in their hands when she was trying to have a conversation with them? It made every extended conversation stressful, even with the people she cared about, not knowing whether someone would snap at her for something that really didn’t feel wrong.
She hadn’t imagined before now that there could be a situation where it felt much worse, but she had certainly stumbled upon that very instance right now. Having two people to look between didn’t help matters at all. She didn’t want to keep her vision fixed on Rebekah, not with that rifle clutched in her hands, so she kept on looking towards Jessica instead, just over her shoulder. But then she started to overthink it, as she always ended up doing; was it smart to keep her eyes off of the person with the weapon? Would they get annoyed if they felt she wasn’t giving them enough due attention? Maybe she should look at them more, but then what if that upset them instead? What if that made them think she had already mentally decided they were planning to use that weapon on everyone they came across? Was she looking too much? Too little? At the wrong person, at the wrong time, in the wrong place? Was this the reason the girls back in the office building had shunned her so quickly? Had these two already decided how they felt about her, and all this panicking was for nothing?
Unknown answers to unseen questions, which everyone except for Beatrice seemed to have figured out.
So when Rebekah gave her a straight answer, no frills or hidden meanings that Beatrice could detect, she felt a huge wave of relief course through her, like she’d taken a dunk in an ice bath. With it came a realisation; that this was the first positive thing anybody had said to her for over a day. It was almost enough for the floodgates to finally open - she was on the brink of tears as it stood - and she came just as close to collapsing to her knees, as the tension and stress in her body slowly vanished.
“Okay. Alright. Okay,” she mumbled, nodding along with each syllable. Her voice felt strange coming out of her mouth; she couldn’t quite be convinced that she was even audible. Best to make absolutely certain that Rebekah and Jessica wouldn’t misinterpret her actions. “I, um, trust you. With the gun. I’m not going to do anything either.”
She wasn’t sure what she could do with the axe to prove her point that she wasn’t already doing. It was already pressed close to her chest; if she tried to push it any further towards herself it would be sinking into her skin. And she couldn’t exactly mirror Rebekah’s actions with the gun; swinging a bladed weapon around would result in the exact opposite of gaining their trust. She just had to hope that they would put as much faith in her words as she always did for everyone else’s.
“I don’t know what happened here, I’m sorry. Please trust me.”
Something tugged at the back of her collar, trying to urge her to turn around, to stare at the splatters of crimson burned into the snow, even though she knew that doing so would send her back to the beginning of this whole day, back to staring and stumbling and being frozen in place.
“I woke up not too far from here, and not too long ago. I was walking in this direction, and, and I found all of this blood, and I just couldn’t stop looking at it. I don’t know…”
Beatrice swallowed. The axe trembled in her grip, even with it being as tight as it was.
“I don’t know whose it is. I don’t know who… made it happen.”
She hadn’t imagined before now that there could be a situation where it felt much worse, but she had certainly stumbled upon that very instance right now. Having two people to look between didn’t help matters at all. She didn’t want to keep her vision fixed on Rebekah, not with that rifle clutched in her hands, so she kept on looking towards Jessica instead, just over her shoulder. But then she started to overthink it, as she always ended up doing; was it smart to keep her eyes off of the person with the weapon? Would they get annoyed if they felt she wasn’t giving them enough due attention? Maybe she should look at them more, but then what if that upset them instead? What if that made them think she had already mentally decided they were planning to use that weapon on everyone they came across? Was she looking too much? Too little? At the wrong person, at the wrong time, in the wrong place? Was this the reason the girls back in the office building had shunned her so quickly? Had these two already decided how they felt about her, and all this panicking was for nothing?
Unknown answers to unseen questions, which everyone except for Beatrice seemed to have figured out.
So when Rebekah gave her a straight answer, no frills or hidden meanings that Beatrice could detect, she felt a huge wave of relief course through her, like she’d taken a dunk in an ice bath. With it came a realisation; that this was the first positive thing anybody had said to her for over a day. It was almost enough for the floodgates to finally open - she was on the brink of tears as it stood - and she came just as close to collapsing to her knees, as the tension and stress in her body slowly vanished.
“Okay. Alright. Okay,” she mumbled, nodding along with each syllable. Her voice felt strange coming out of her mouth; she couldn’t quite be convinced that she was even audible. Best to make absolutely certain that Rebekah and Jessica wouldn’t misinterpret her actions. “I, um, trust you. With the gun. I’m not going to do anything either.”
She wasn’t sure what she could do with the axe to prove her point that she wasn’t already doing. It was already pressed close to her chest; if she tried to push it any further towards herself it would be sinking into her skin. And she couldn’t exactly mirror Rebekah’s actions with the gun; swinging a bladed weapon around would result in the exact opposite of gaining their trust. She just had to hope that they would put as much faith in her words as she always did for everyone else’s.
“I don’t know what happened here, I’m sorry. Please trust me.”
Something tugged at the back of her collar, trying to urge her to turn around, to stare at the splatters of crimson burned into the snow, even though she knew that doing so would send her back to the beginning of this whole day, back to staring and stumbling and being frozen in place.
“I woke up not too far from here, and not too long ago. I was walking in this direction, and, and I found all of this blood, and I just couldn’t stop looking at it. I don’t know…”
Beatrice swallowed. The axe trembled in her grip, even with it being as tight as it was.
“I don’t know whose it is. I don’t know who… made it happen.”
"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
"That's okay," Rebekah said brightly. "We're just glad you weren't like, attacked or anything."
Well, this conversation was going pretty well! Jess was engaging, and Beatrice seemed to become less rigid, more relaxed. There was still a bit of lingering tension, but on a much lesser scale - as if a person who had anticipated being savaged by a leopard (famously known to be the feline equivalent of a chainsaw) found themselves instead being minorly inconvenienced by a clouded leopard (famously known to be the feline equivalent of a frightened butter knife). The danger was lessened, but hadn't entirely dissipated.
Rebekah could have felt fairly relaxed herself at this point - the Snuggie was a miracle of modern seamstressship and it was like being in bed while standing up - but she'd seen the way that Beatrice's eyes kept darting towards Jess. Presumably, Beatrice had heard the morning announcements, which had mentioned Jess and guns in close proximity. It'd be sort of counterproductive, she realized, for Beatrice to start having thoughts like, "Hey, isn't that Jess, who killed somebody yesterday?" and "Hey, isn't Rebekah holding the gun that somebody was murdered with?" at this stage. So, it'd probably be a good idea to give Beatrice some other thoughts to have instead.
"Hey, is that a supply bag? We should check that out!" Rebekah pointed with her free-er hand at a tan-colored blotch amongst the crimson smears.
As she squinted to verify her guess, she noticed that the snow near the bag was... off. A lot of the snow in the area had been disturbed and trampled on, but just there it was contoured, packed down. Rebekah had spent last summer cutting grass at the local cemetery, so she definitely knew what a fresh grave looked like.
"But... uh... something tells me we probably don't want to get too close to that snow over there..."
Well, this conversation was going pretty well! Jess was engaging, and Beatrice seemed to become less rigid, more relaxed. There was still a bit of lingering tension, but on a much lesser scale - as if a person who had anticipated being savaged by a leopard (famously known to be the feline equivalent of a chainsaw) found themselves instead being minorly inconvenienced by a clouded leopard (famously known to be the feline equivalent of a frightened butter knife). The danger was lessened, but hadn't entirely dissipated.
Rebekah could have felt fairly relaxed herself at this point - the Snuggie was a miracle of modern seamstressship and it was like being in bed while standing up - but she'd seen the way that Beatrice's eyes kept darting towards Jess. Presumably, Beatrice had heard the morning announcements, which had mentioned Jess and guns in close proximity. It'd be sort of counterproductive, she realized, for Beatrice to start having thoughts like, "Hey, isn't that Jess, who killed somebody yesterday?" and "Hey, isn't Rebekah holding the gun that somebody was murdered with?" at this stage. So, it'd probably be a good idea to give Beatrice some other thoughts to have instead.
"Hey, is that a supply bag? We should check that out!" Rebekah pointed with her free-er hand at a tan-colored blotch amongst the crimson smears.
As she squinted to verify her guess, she noticed that the snow near the bag was... off. A lot of the snow in the area had been disturbed and trampled on, but just there it was contoured, packed down. Rebekah had spent last summer cutting grass at the local cemetery, so she definitely knew what a fresh grave looked like.
"But... uh... something tells me we probably don't want to get too close to that snow over there..."
V8 Characters:
Juanita Reid
Rebekah Hayes
Karin Han
EXTREME STEVE Dodds
Juanita Reid
Rebekah Hayes
Karin Han
EXTREME STEVE Dodds
The story Beatrice told them made sense. Jessica could understand the sequence of events and it was an alarming amount of blood. She hadn't taken in how much Mallory had bled, it had been hard to tell in the dark of the cave. That was probably for the best though, a large part of her didn't want to know. What had happened before their arrival, and Beatrice's based on her story. It meant it was likely one of the other murders that had been listed at the start of the day. So, it was one of the other murderers that had done it.
When Rebekah mentioned the snow Jessica followed the other girls' gaze to a patch by the bag she had spotted. It was strange, footsteps were expected, Jessica wasn't surprised to see them. They'd disappear with time as the snow melted—which it seemed to be on its way to doing—but the other disturbances were noticeable only because Rebekah had pointed them out and it made them more concerning. The blood also helped give that impression she supposed. Jessica bit her lip. Rebekah's advice seemed salient, but if they exposed what was beneath the layer of snow, they could have figured out exactly what had happened. They'd know exactly who was involved.
On the other hand, they already knew what had happened. Not directly, but one of the murders they'd been told about corollated with the scene they had found. Discovering the identity of the victim only let them match up the exact tableau with the information they'd been provided. It didn't get them anything in the end.
"I'll go check," Jessica announced, not waiting for any kind of response as she stepped past Rebekah and made her way toward the bag. As she passed Beatrice her eyes flicked over to the axe, making sure it didn't move toward her. Her boots crunched against the snow as she walked and stepped over the patches of blood she came across. It seemed silly to try and avoid the blood, considering what she had already done, but Jessica did it anyway. Once she reached the bag she looped one of her feet through an arm and pulled it up, crimson-stained snow falling off of the tan exterior in clumps.
Jessica grimaced as she dropped it off the end of her boot and onto a clean patch of ground. She took another look back at Beatrice and her axe and then crouched down to open the bag up.
Her first thought was a disappointment, followed by a shallow bubbling of disgust in her stomach.
"It's been looted already," She announced, turning her body to face Rebekah and Beatrice.
When Rebekah mentioned the snow Jessica followed the other girls' gaze to a patch by the bag she had spotted. It was strange, footsteps were expected, Jessica wasn't surprised to see them. They'd disappear with time as the snow melted—which it seemed to be on its way to doing—but the other disturbances were noticeable only because Rebekah had pointed them out and it made them more concerning. The blood also helped give that impression she supposed. Jessica bit her lip. Rebekah's advice seemed salient, but if they exposed what was beneath the layer of snow, they could have figured out exactly what had happened. They'd know exactly who was involved.
On the other hand, they already knew what had happened. Not directly, but one of the murders they'd been told about corollated with the scene they had found. Discovering the identity of the victim only let them match up the exact tableau with the information they'd been provided. It didn't get them anything in the end.
"I'll go check," Jessica announced, not waiting for any kind of response as she stepped past Rebekah and made her way toward the bag. As she passed Beatrice her eyes flicked over to the axe, making sure it didn't move toward her. Her boots crunched against the snow as she walked and stepped over the patches of blood she came across. It seemed silly to try and avoid the blood, considering what she had already done, but Jessica did it anyway. Once she reached the bag she looped one of her feet through an arm and pulled it up, crimson-stained snow falling off of the tan exterior in clumps.
Jessica grimaced as she dropped it off the end of her boot and onto a clean patch of ground. She took another look back at Beatrice and her axe and then crouched down to open the bag up.
Her first thought was a disappointment, followed by a shallow bubbling of disgust in her stomach.
"It's been looted already," She announced, turning her body to face Rebekah and Beatrice.
((Skipped with permission))
"Aww, boo!" Rebekah made a face.
Come to think of it, that made sense. Whoever had been here had taken the time and effort to cover up the body, so they wouldn't have run off in a panic and left the supplies behind. It occurred to Rebekah that whoever had killed this person had been a lot more diligent than she and Jess had been with Mallory's body. They'd just left it in the cave, without any real ceremony. It was a horrible thought. A thought that sat like a stone in her stomach.
Rebekah looked away from the bag and the grave, scoping out their surroundings. This gave her no comfort whatsoever. She didn't like these woods. They weren't like her woods back home. Her woods were bright and beautiful, even in the winter. The trees there were full of chickadees and sparrows, and if you came early enough you'd spot the odd gray squirrel. The snow carpeted the forest floor like a sea of diamonds; if you looked carefully, you could spot the little tracks and tunnels by which her furry friends traversed the wilderness.
But these woods... these woods were different. The pines bristled angrily, and the deciduous ones were hued in ashy greys and blacks; wilted moss hung off their branches like bandages from a mummy's skeletal fingers. And she really, really didn't want to look too carefully at the snow. Rebekah hadn't felt like this in a long time. She'd certainly never felt like this in the woods. Not even at night. She didn't like that, not one bit. She needed... she needed to see something familiar. Something alive. A deer, or a squirrel. Even the chrysalis of a moth would do. Something to keep her from thinking about that heap of snow and that bloodstained bag.
"It's, uh... it's probably best if we move on, I think."
She looked from Jess to Beatrice.
"Do you see any tracks? If whoever did this ran off somewhere, we should probably head in a different direction, you know?"
"Aww, boo!" Rebekah made a face.
Come to think of it, that made sense. Whoever had been here had taken the time and effort to cover up the body, so they wouldn't have run off in a panic and left the supplies behind. It occurred to Rebekah that whoever had killed this person had been a lot more diligent than she and Jess had been with Mallory's body. They'd just left it in the cave, without any real ceremony. It was a horrible thought. A thought that sat like a stone in her stomach.
Rebekah looked away from the bag and the grave, scoping out their surroundings. This gave her no comfort whatsoever. She didn't like these woods. They weren't like her woods back home. Her woods were bright and beautiful, even in the winter. The trees there were full of chickadees and sparrows, and if you came early enough you'd spot the odd gray squirrel. The snow carpeted the forest floor like a sea of diamonds; if you looked carefully, you could spot the little tracks and tunnels by which her furry friends traversed the wilderness.
But these woods... these woods were different. The pines bristled angrily, and the deciduous ones were hued in ashy greys and blacks; wilted moss hung off their branches like bandages from a mummy's skeletal fingers. And she really, really didn't want to look too carefully at the snow. Rebekah hadn't felt like this in a long time. She'd certainly never felt like this in the woods. Not even at night. She didn't like that, not one bit. She needed... she needed to see something familiar. Something alive. A deer, or a squirrel. Even the chrysalis of a moth would do. Something to keep her from thinking about that heap of snow and that bloodstained bag.
"It's, uh... it's probably best if we move on, I think."
She looked from Jess to Beatrice.
"Do you see any tracks? If whoever did this ran off somewhere, we should probably head in a different direction, you know?"
V8 Characters:
Juanita Reid
Rebekah Hayes
Karin Han
EXTREME STEVE Dodds
Juanita Reid
Rebekah Hayes
Karin Han
EXTREME STEVE Dodds
She didn’t want to look at the bag.
Beatrice had missed it initially, when she’d first arrived at this heaping mound of snow and blood. The tan colouration didn’t exactly stand out, surrounded by shades of white and brown, but moreso than that, her attention had just been dragged to a more concerning location. She had to trust that there even was a bag there. She didn’t want to look behind herself ever again. She would do anything possible to avoid that. Anything at all.
And her first, self-admittedly illogical and panicky, thought was that there would be something horrible inside the bag. A collection of severed hands, or a swarm of cockroaches, or even just more blood, pooling up and spilling out of the top. Beatrice didn’t like to watch horror movies. They made her feel sick and upset. The acting, the monsters, the environmental design, everything felt like it was engineered to stress her out - and apparently that was intentional, which felt so alien to her. It felt as though she’d stumbled right onto the set for one of them, right in the middle of a film. A bag full of gruesome monstrosities would fit that scenario perfectly.
But there was another, much deeper running reason why she didn’t want to touch the bag, or even to get close to it; it wasn’t hers. It belonged to somebody else. It was someone else’s possession, with someone else’s possessions inside. It was bad enough to take what didn’t belong to you when the owner was alive. It felt even worse to do so when they were no longer here. It felt disrespectful. It felt wrong, in a way that she knew she would never be able to articulate, no matter how hard she tried.
But Rebekah and Jessica had done her the kindness of believe in her, and trusted in what she’d told them. It was only just that she let them investigate the bag, as they wished to do so. She knew that it would be useful, that there might be items left behind that would help them survive longer. She wouldn’t look at it while it was happening, though. She would keep her grip tight, her eyes forwards, her legs firmly planted.
She noticed how often Jessica looked at her, though. She didn’t dare look back. She didn’t make eye contact with the other girl.
Tap tap tap.
It was almost a relief to hear that the bag was empty, although it still felt as though they’d desecrated something in the process. There wasn’t anything else left here for them to pick through or look over. She was more than happy to hear Rebekah’s suggestion of heading out. Her heartbeat had risen again, and she had started shivering a little. There was something particularly evil about the mound of snow and blood. It felt like it had burrowed inside of her head, and tethered itself there, digging its hooks in and tying her to this clearing. The longer she stayed here, the worse it got. The worse it got, the less she felt able to leave.
She was shivering a lot more now.
“I don’t think… I can’t look at that again. I’m sorry. I can’t do it.”
She took a deep breath, a technique that had never really worked for her stress before, and that had failed to make any sort of impact once again now.
“The ground looks very clear in this direction. I know you’ve just come from that way, but it’s somewhere we can go where we’ll probably be safe.
Beatrice had missed it initially, when she’d first arrived at this heaping mound of snow and blood. The tan colouration didn’t exactly stand out, surrounded by shades of white and brown, but moreso than that, her attention had just been dragged to a more concerning location. She had to trust that there even was a bag there. She didn’t want to look behind herself ever again. She would do anything possible to avoid that. Anything at all.
And her first, self-admittedly illogical and panicky, thought was that there would be something horrible inside the bag. A collection of severed hands, or a swarm of cockroaches, or even just more blood, pooling up and spilling out of the top. Beatrice didn’t like to watch horror movies. They made her feel sick and upset. The acting, the monsters, the environmental design, everything felt like it was engineered to stress her out - and apparently that was intentional, which felt so alien to her. It felt as though she’d stumbled right onto the set for one of them, right in the middle of a film. A bag full of gruesome monstrosities would fit that scenario perfectly.
But there was another, much deeper running reason why she didn’t want to touch the bag, or even to get close to it; it wasn’t hers. It belonged to somebody else. It was someone else’s possession, with someone else’s possessions inside. It was bad enough to take what didn’t belong to you when the owner was alive. It felt even worse to do so when they were no longer here. It felt disrespectful. It felt wrong, in a way that she knew she would never be able to articulate, no matter how hard she tried.
But Rebekah and Jessica had done her the kindness of believe in her, and trusted in what she’d told them. It was only just that she let them investigate the bag, as they wished to do so. She knew that it would be useful, that there might be items left behind that would help them survive longer. She wouldn’t look at it while it was happening, though. She would keep her grip tight, her eyes forwards, her legs firmly planted.
She noticed how often Jessica looked at her, though. She didn’t dare look back. She didn’t make eye contact with the other girl.
Tap tap tap.
It was almost a relief to hear that the bag was empty, although it still felt as though they’d desecrated something in the process. There wasn’t anything else left here for them to pick through or look over. She was more than happy to hear Rebekah’s suggestion of heading out. Her heartbeat had risen again, and she had started shivering a little. There was something particularly evil about the mound of snow and blood. It felt like it had burrowed inside of her head, and tethered itself there, digging its hooks in and tying her to this clearing. The longer she stayed here, the worse it got. The worse it got, the less she felt able to leave.
She was shivering a lot more now.
“I don’t think… I can’t look at that again. I’m sorry. I can’t do it.”
She took a deep breath, a technique that had never really worked for her stress before, and that had failed to make any sort of impact once again now.
“The ground looks very clear in this direction. I know you’ve just come from that way, but it’s somewhere we can go where we’ll probably be safe.
"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
Jessica frowned at Rebekah's overly cutesy reaction to her announcement but didn't comment on it. She flipped the lid of the bag closed and discarded it to one side. There was no point in keeping it. Jessica turned her attention to the mound, the lump in the snow, from far enough away it could have been mistaken for someone sleeping. That was until you got close and saw how stained it all was. She still felt the faint curiosity to disturb the body, find out who it was and start to put the pieces together of what had happened before their arrival. But she knew it wouldn't result in anything beneficial.
She stayed crouched down as Rebekah and Beatrice discussed tracks and moving. Beatrice suggested a direction that was a step backward both literally and figuratively. It was the way Jessica and Rebekah had initially come from and her frown only grew deeper upon hearing the suggestion. She didn't want to go back to the mountain, she didn't want to be near the cave.
Her head was shaking before she spoke.
"Nothing that way but a mountain," She said, "We need to find shelter and it won't be there."
Jessica felt bad about how blunt her statements were but they were mostly true. If they spent all day trekking back to and over the mountain what would they do if the weather turned or when night fell and they were on a mountain path with nothing but the wind for company?
"We should probably check the map," She said, voice softening, "Figure out if there's some landmark nearby."
She stayed crouched down as Rebekah and Beatrice discussed tracks and moving. Beatrice suggested a direction that was a step backward both literally and figuratively. It was the way Jessica and Rebekah had initially come from and her frown only grew deeper upon hearing the suggestion. She didn't want to go back to the mountain, she didn't want to be near the cave.
Her head was shaking before she spoke.
"Nothing that way but a mountain," She said, "We need to find shelter and it won't be there."
Jessica felt bad about how blunt her statements were but they were mostly true. If they spent all day trekking back to and over the mountain what would they do if the weather turned or when night fell and they were on a mountain path with nothing but the wind for company?
"We should probably check the map," She said, voice softening, "Figure out if there's some landmark nearby."
Rebekah shifted uncomfortably. "Jess is right. The only shelter up there was the cave, and it's off limits now." Not that Rebekah would have ever willingly gone back there anyway.
"Hold on a sec, let me check the map."
She carefully leaned the gun against a tree - the safety was on, but you couldn't be too safe when it came to guns. There was a story in the news a while back about a rabbit who shot a hunter by kicking the trigger while it was trying to escape. It took a bit of awkward readjustment of her Snuggie cape to find the wadded-up map in her pocket, and her mitts made the task way harder than it had any right to be, but she eventually managed to get it out and opened.
"Uh... let's see. The nearest shelter to us is... looks like there's a trapping camp to the south." Rebekah pointed a mitten in a generally away-from-the-mountain direction. "That's probably gonna be the best place unless we wanna take a really long hike towards the town or the research station."
"Hold on a sec, let me check the map."
She carefully leaned the gun against a tree - the safety was on, but you couldn't be too safe when it came to guns. There was a story in the news a while back about a rabbit who shot a hunter by kicking the trigger while it was trying to escape. It took a bit of awkward readjustment of her Snuggie cape to find the wadded-up map in her pocket, and her mitts made the task way harder than it had any right to be, but she eventually managed to get it out and opened.
"Uh... let's see. The nearest shelter to us is... looks like there's a trapping camp to the south." Rebekah pointed a mitten in a generally away-from-the-mountain direction. "That's probably gonna be the best place unless we wanna take a really long hike towards the town or the research station."
V8 Characters:
Juanita Reid
Rebekah Hayes
Karin Han
EXTREME STEVE Dodds
Juanita Reid
Rebekah Hayes
Karin Han
EXTREME STEVE Dodds