"We'll make it work."
The confidence in her voice surprised even Raina herself. She felt giddy. She wanted to beat herself around the head for not thinking of something this simple before, but now that she had figured it out there was no point in dwelling on it.
She stepped forward and grasped Penelope's arm, giving a reassuring squeeze. "I've got an idea about posters, too - why don't we head back to the library when they reopen it? If any paper survived, we can use that, and maybe your friends will head back there once it's safe."
Paper. Paper, lighters, and sure they could make posters, who cared? Not Raina. Things were starting to come together.
A big enough pile of paper and tinder, and then they would head to the highest point on the island. And then...
Raina smiled reassuringly at Penelope, and this time she didn't have to fake it.
Drawn To The Blood
"Art enriches the community, Steve, no less than a pulsing fire hose, or a fireman beating down a blazing door. So what if we're drawing a nude man? So what if all we ever draw is a nude man, or the same nude man over and over in all sorts of provocative positions? Context, not content! Process, not subject! Don't be so gauche, Steve, it's beneath you."
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General Goose
- Posts: 732
- Joined: Mon Aug 13, 2018 4:02 pm
Okay. A positive reaction. A realistic account.
If only Clarice was here to take notes.
Kizi found herself smiling too. Just a morsel of hope was enough to get her excited beyond belief. A reminder that cooperation and decency and humanity and all that had survived. Despite the rules of the game. Despite the cowardly barbarity of a few of their classmates. Despite the many pressures to panic, or misunderstand, or fight and agitate. Despair was a pretty unhelpful thing, really. It was pessimism in the face of all evidence. For now, there was a reason to be happy. There was a reason to be optimistic. To have some hope. To believe in solidarity and kinship and empathy making a much-needed resurgence.
And there was no point in denying that evidence.
"Oh, yeah, it's good that we're armed." She had noticed that her shotgun had received some attention, Ben being the first to raise the possibility it'd be needed. And she was using the plural pronoun deliberately. Had to make some early commitments to building a rapport. Had to show she was serious. "Like, I'd be happy if we found a pistol or rifle or something too, just because a shotgun is a little bit too bulky for me. I fear if I fire it I'll..." She harrumphed, followed by some raspberry-blowing, in an attempt to emulate a shotgun blast. And then she leaned backwards, to imitate the recoil throwing her back.
She wasn't exactly super-capable of firing guns, she was willing to guess.
And then there was scepticism about the posters. Which was fine. Whatever. Probably smart. And it was constructive criticism. Again, Clarice should have taken notes. There were ways to be critical without being scornful. Still, though, no point in dwelling on the past.
"Posters could work. If we head to the Bell Tower, we could grab some art supplies from the asylum. Which'd be fun."
If only Clarice was here to take notes.
Kizi found herself smiling too. Just a morsel of hope was enough to get her excited beyond belief. A reminder that cooperation and decency and humanity and all that had survived. Despite the rules of the game. Despite the cowardly barbarity of a few of their classmates. Despite the many pressures to panic, or misunderstand, or fight and agitate. Despair was a pretty unhelpful thing, really. It was pessimism in the face of all evidence. For now, there was a reason to be happy. There was a reason to be optimistic. To have some hope. To believe in solidarity and kinship and empathy making a much-needed resurgence.
And there was no point in denying that evidence.
"Oh, yeah, it's good that we're armed." She had noticed that her shotgun had received some attention, Ben being the first to raise the possibility it'd be needed. And she was using the plural pronoun deliberately. Had to make some early commitments to building a rapport. Had to show she was serious. "Like, I'd be happy if we found a pistol or rifle or something too, just because a shotgun is a little bit too bulky for me. I fear if I fire it I'll..." She harrumphed, followed by some raspberry-blowing, in an attempt to emulate a shotgun blast. And then she leaned backwards, to imitate the recoil throwing her back.
She wasn't exactly super-capable of firing guns, she was willing to guess.
And then there was scepticism about the posters. Which was fine. Whatever. Probably smart. And it was constructive criticism. Again, Clarice should have taken notes. There were ways to be critical without being scornful. Still, though, no point in dwelling on the past.
"Posters could work. If we head to the Bell Tower, we could grab some art supplies from the asylum. Which'd be fun."
Ben was definitely slow, to clarify, also generally in mind and body but specifically now to speak.
"... Like Lili said, preferably we don't even need to use a warning shot." Ben didn't think it was so likely that they'd be so blessed with peace, but well. He'd been proven wrong before, innumerable times and ways. "And yeah," Ben nodded in the singular Kizi's way. "Physique only has so much to do with it. Wear the right stance and you'll be a guntoter as good as the rest of them." Some of the island's most loathsome were only a step up from tiny tots themselves. Probably still taller than Ben himself.
"One gun should be enough, in shifts."
Ben liked that Kizi had used 'we', and hopefully not in the royal. It was a good sign. 'We' were armed. Fuck, now of all times he finally had himself a good old blood, sweat, salute piece of gun somehow.
He watched the others as frankly as he dared. Not much in the way of smiles on his end, but the others had enough good looking smiles to make up for it. Shit just felt better when the environs mood was more proactive, in your face about it's probably naive optimism.
"Arts and crafts, huh? Now that's a throwback." Ben cracked his brittle bones at the wrists. Fingers next, right on the knuckles. Had to be prepared if the near future would be putting something to his grasp, be it pen or be it sword. "A quick stop to scavenge the asylum might be easier than doubling back. We know for sure the asylum wasn't set on fire."
"... Like Lili said, preferably we don't even need to use a warning shot." Ben didn't think it was so likely that they'd be so blessed with peace, but well. He'd been proven wrong before, innumerable times and ways. "And yeah," Ben nodded in the singular Kizi's way. "Physique only has so much to do with it. Wear the right stance and you'll be a guntoter as good as the rest of them." Some of the island's most loathsome were only a step up from tiny tots themselves. Probably still taller than Ben himself.
"One gun should be enough, in shifts."
Ben liked that Kizi had used 'we', and hopefully not in the royal. It was a good sign. 'We' were armed. Fuck, now of all times he finally had himself a good old blood, sweat, salute piece of gun somehow.
He watched the others as frankly as he dared. Not much in the way of smiles on his end, but the others had enough good looking smiles to make up for it. Shit just felt better when the environs mood was more proactive, in your face about it's probably naive optimism.
"Arts and crafts, huh? Now that's a throwback." Ben cracked his brittle bones at the wrists. Fingers next, right on the knuckles. Had to be prepared if the near future would be putting something to his grasp, be it pen or be it sword. "A quick stop to scavenge the asylum might be easier than doubling back. We know for sure the asylum wasn't set on fire."
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MethodicalSlacker
- Posts: 1284
- Joined: Tue Aug 14, 2018 2:18 am
- Location: The Black Lodge
- Contact:
A detour into the asylum sounded fine with her. It was right next to the bell tower, so getting supplies over wouldn't be any trouble at all. The only thing that was an uncertainty as far as the posters went was what to write on them. Lili figured that she'd let everyone else take over that responsibility. To be honest with herself, it just felt good to see no major disagreements among them. Her inner feelings of hope and blind optimism projected onto those around her - it was if the curtains finally matched the drapes.
Was it far to call it optimism? She knew that there would be trouble at the tower. Someone would come along, ruin their big day, and Lili would have to step in and put her foot down. She knew that she might die there, or anywhere really - death was always at the back of her mind. So it wasn't optimism, then. It was more like....
...Apathy. As if the only way to beat Spiderland was to stop caring what it did to you. To let it pick you over and scoop out your insides. It could dissect you at any moment, study you, see exactly what made you tick. The key to enlightenment, so to speak, seemed to be to face all that down and shrug. She thought back to one of the books she had to read last year for school. Something was there, something that fit how she felt quite well. At the very least, she remembered what it was about. Lili vaguely remembered reading in that book about a humanitarian catastrophe of some kind, a firebombing toward the end of World War II. A topic she thought got way too much attention, compared to all the other stuff she'd read about. There was just so much more cool stuff to research, like, say, the Sino-Japanese Wars. Now those were interesting.
As Lili nodded her head up and down, only half-listening to what her friends had to say about their plans, she mulled it all over in her head; did she really just not care, or was there something else bubbling beneath the surface? Could she care enough to find out?
...eh.
Lili poked her cheek with her index finger, lightly stabbing at it with her nail. She couldn't concentrate on any one thought, so she figured she might as well stop trying to.
"What are we waiting for, then?" she asked, putting on a soft and sweet tone of voice, "We could head over now, easily. Unless you guys want to stay here a little while, which is cool, I guess."
Was it far to call it optimism? She knew that there would be trouble at the tower. Someone would come along, ruin their big day, and Lili would have to step in and put her foot down. She knew that she might die there, or anywhere really - death was always at the back of her mind. So it wasn't optimism, then. It was more like....
...Apathy. As if the only way to beat Spiderland was to stop caring what it did to you. To let it pick you over and scoop out your insides. It could dissect you at any moment, study you, see exactly what made you tick. The key to enlightenment, so to speak, seemed to be to face all that down and shrug. She thought back to one of the books she had to read last year for school. Something was there, something that fit how she felt quite well. At the very least, she remembered what it was about. Lili vaguely remembered reading in that book about a humanitarian catastrophe of some kind, a firebombing toward the end of World War II. A topic she thought got way too much attention, compared to all the other stuff she'd read about. There was just so much more cool stuff to research, like, say, the Sino-Japanese Wars. Now those were interesting.
As Lili nodded her head up and down, only half-listening to what her friends had to say about their plans, she mulled it all over in her head; did she really just not care, or was there something else bubbling beneath the surface? Could she care enough to find out?
...eh.
Lili poked her cheek with her index finger, lightly stabbing at it with her nail. She couldn't concentrate on any one thought, so she figured she might as well stop trying to.
"What are we waiting for, then?" she asked, putting on a soft and sweet tone of voice, "We could head over now, easily. Unless you guys want to stay here a little while, which is cool, I guess."
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VoltTurtle
- Posts: 1537
- Joined: Fri Aug 10, 2018 4:10 pm
- Location: Dreamland
"I think we should probably stay here, at least for a little while," Penelope muttered, as she tugged on Raina's sleeve in response to her friend's touch.
"I don't know about you two, but the three of us," she gestured to Raina and Ben, "spent the entirety of yesterday walking around, and we're a bit tired. And uh... yeah."
Penelope rubbed her eyes, still slightly puffy from the constant crying. The mascara that had so thoroughly stained her cheeks was finally beginning to fade. If she had a future to look forward to, she would remind herself not to put it on so thick next time. Unfortunately for her and all of her friends, there wouldn't be a next time.
She sniffled, going silent as everyone else continued talking. She had tried to avoid thinking about everything that she would be losing out on. The fact that she had time to reflect and consider the future was the worst part of her dire circumstances. Had she just been blown up, with everything she was and ever would be gone in a single instant, she wouldn't have had time to mourn the life that she wouldn't have been able to live.
But as it stood, she had more than enough time to consider everything she had to lose. All the friends she would never make and all the conversations she would never have, all the food she would never eat and sights she would never see, all the games she would never play and all the code she would never write...
It was easy to just say that she was okay with everything going away. It was easy to say that her life ending so someone else's life could continue was a good thing. But when it came time to pay her dues, to face her own mortality before her life had truly even had a chance to begin, it wasn't so easy to just let everything go. She had only survived this long by ignoring the reality of the situation, by pretending that everything would be alright and refusing to internalize the danger until the bitter end.
But as more time passed, as more of her friends died to the things that went bump in the night, it became harder and harder to ignore the reality that she would soon never be able to laugh or cry or experience anything ever again.
And that scared her.
She leaned her head into Raina, the frown that had formed on her face dissolving as she took comfort in their proximity.
At the very least, she still had her best friend.
"I don't know about you two, but the three of us," she gestured to Raina and Ben, "spent the entirety of yesterday walking around, and we're a bit tired. And uh... yeah."
Penelope rubbed her eyes, still slightly puffy from the constant crying. The mascara that had so thoroughly stained her cheeks was finally beginning to fade. If she had a future to look forward to, she would remind herself not to put it on so thick next time. Unfortunately for her and all of her friends, there wouldn't be a next time.
She sniffled, going silent as everyone else continued talking. She had tried to avoid thinking about everything that she would be losing out on. The fact that she had time to reflect and consider the future was the worst part of her dire circumstances. Had she just been blown up, with everything she was and ever would be gone in a single instant, she wouldn't have had time to mourn the life that she wouldn't have been able to live.
But as it stood, she had more than enough time to consider everything she had to lose. All the friends she would never make and all the conversations she would never have, all the food she would never eat and sights she would never see, all the games she would never play and all the code she would never write...
It was easy to just say that she was okay with everything going away. It was easy to say that her life ending so someone else's life could continue was a good thing. But when it came time to pay her dues, to face her own mortality before her life had truly even had a chance to begin, it wasn't so easy to just let everything go. She had only survived this long by ignoring the reality of the situation, by pretending that everything would be alright and refusing to internalize the danger until the bitter end.
But as more time passed, as more of her friends died to the things that went bump in the night, it became harder and harder to ignore the reality that she would soon never be able to laugh or cry or experience anything ever again.
And that scared her.
She leaned her head into Raina, the frown that had formed on her face dissolving as she took comfort in their proximity.
At the very least, she still had her best friend.
Ben appreciated Lili's energy, her vitality. Kind of reminded him of something he'd lost.
"Uh... yeah. Gonna agree with Penelope. Sorry Lili."
Ben wasn't even that exhausted. Not like he needed his own body to function for it to serve a purpose. But there was nothing much to do, yet. And, of course, there was nothing much to say.
He didn't make much effort to get closer to the others. He didn't sleep, and he certainly didn't dream.
((Ben Fields continued in Goodnight, Travel Well))
"Uh... yeah. Gonna agree with Penelope. Sorry Lili."
Ben wasn't even that exhausted. Not like he needed his own body to function for it to serve a purpose. But there was nothing much to do, yet. And, of course, there was nothing much to say.
He didn't make much effort to get closer to the others. He didn't sleep, and he certainly didn't dream.
((Ben Fields continued in Goodnight, Travel Well))
Raina secured her arm around Penelope's waist, half habit formed years ago and half almost-giddy reassurance.
She had thought of something. She would have to find this Clarice girl and thank her for the inspiration.
She nodded along with everyone else's words, trying so, so hard to keep everything under control. Don't let on anything. Don't smile too much, don't fidget. Nobody on the other side of the camera can know. Keep 'em guessing.
"Sure, sure we can pull a 'let's split up gang' for a bit. But only a bit! Let's not lose track of everyone."
Raina turned to Penelope as the others filtered off and they settled down for their well-earned break. "It's all going to be okay," she promised.
For the first time since she had awoken in that tub of stagnant water days ago, she almost believed it.
((Raina Rose continued in Hyphaema))
She had thought of something. She would have to find this Clarice girl and thank her for the inspiration.
She nodded along with everyone else's words, trying so, so hard to keep everything under control. Don't let on anything. Don't smile too much, don't fidget. Nobody on the other side of the camera can know. Keep 'em guessing.
"Sure, sure we can pull a 'let's split up gang' for a bit. But only a bit! Let's not lose track of everyone."
Raina turned to Penelope as the others filtered off and they settled down for their well-earned break. "It's all going to be okay," she promised.
For the first time since she had awoken in that tub of stagnant water days ago, she almost believed it.
((Raina Rose continued in Hyphaema))
"Art enriches the community, Steve, no less than a pulsing fire hose, or a fireman beating down a blazing door. So what if we're drawing a nude man? So what if all we ever draw is a nude man, or the same nude man over and over in all sorts of provocative positions? Context, not content! Process, not subject! Don't be so gauche, Steve, it's beneath you."
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General Goose
- Posts: 732
- Joined: Mon Aug 13, 2018 4:02 pm
Kizi hadn't felt tired. They'd rested. They'd eaten. Her needs for comfort and convenience had faded rather quickly during her time on the island, so all in all she felt pretty good. Physically, at least. Actually feeling good in anything approaching a substantiative or holistic manner was, of course, at this point a pipe dream.
Even more of a pipe dream than her grandiose ambitions of community.
But talking about it, being forced to think, being confronted with the realities of the island - even in the form of benign schoolmates who shared her intuitions - was exhausting. Somehow even more so than the announcements. Brought back all the fatigue and malaise the rest had temporarily provided them.
Kizi wasn't sure why. Maybe hope was more exhausting than despair?
She liked that thought.
And so, Kizi joined them in resting. She nodded. Murmured acceptance. Looked to Lili, gave her a more passive smile that expressed her own desire to recuperate. And she gave them hospitality. Helped with guarding, helped with moving things around, all that stuff. They had travelled more. Their exhaustions were greater than hers. And when they were ready, they moved.
((Kiziah Saraki continued in A Time to Love.))
Even more of a pipe dream than her grandiose ambitions of community.
But talking about it, being forced to think, being confronted with the realities of the island - even in the form of benign schoolmates who shared her intuitions - was exhausting. Somehow even more so than the announcements. Brought back all the fatigue and malaise the rest had temporarily provided them.
Kizi wasn't sure why. Maybe hope was more exhausting than despair?
She liked that thought.
And so, Kizi joined them in resting. She nodded. Murmured acceptance. Looked to Lili, gave her a more passive smile that expressed her own desire to recuperate. And she gave them hospitality. Helped with guarding, helped with moving things around, all that stuff. They had travelled more. Their exhaustions were greater than hers. And when they were ready, they moved.
((Kiziah Saraki continued in A Time to Love.))
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MethodicalSlacker
- Posts: 1284
- Joined: Tue Aug 14, 2018 2:18 am
- Location: The Black Lodge
- Contact:
They weren't as antsy as she was. Go figure. It was all understandable, but less than desirable, especially given how every word they had said about their plans had washed over her salt water does over a smooth beach stone. They all wanted to stay put. Fair, reasonable. That wouldn't keep her leg from pumping, up and down, like a jackhammer. With a start, she put a hand on her thigh before her shaking became too noticeable.
Splitting up, for a little while? That wasn't too bad either. They knew where they were going, where they'd meet.
She'd just keep watch. That's all. Put her restlessness to good use while she was at it. Her eyes darting around the room wouldn't be all too bad if they were darting with a purpose. Crazed movements, jitters, twitches, the quirks and ticks of a recovering addict (if the toll withdrawal had taken on her was any sign) recycled and made good.
"Okay," she said, smiling back at Kizzy, remembering back to the book she'd been struggling to grasp and shrugging as she shifted, toward the side of the nearest wall, that nearest wall being the nearest bed.
So it goes.
[Lili Williams continued in Ready For The House.]
Splitting up, for a little while? That wasn't too bad either. They knew where they were going, where they'd meet.
She'd just keep watch. That's all. Put her restlessness to good use while she was at it. Her eyes darting around the room wouldn't be all too bad if they were darting with a purpose. Crazed movements, jitters, twitches, the quirks and ticks of a recovering addict (if the toll withdrawal had taken on her was any sign) recycled and made good.
"Okay," she said, smiling back at Kizzy, remembering back to the book she'd been struggling to grasp and shrugging as she shifted, toward the side of the nearest wall, that nearest wall being the nearest bed.
So it goes.
[Lili Williams continued in Ready For The House.]
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VoltTurtle
- Posts: 1537
- Joined: Fri Aug 10, 2018 4:10 pm
- Location: Dreamland
Penelope leaned up against Raina as the group rested, trying her best to keep her fear about what lay ahead of them under control.
Her thoughts strayed back to the uncertainties, to the people who had already killed. How long would it be until they ran into someone that words and offers of comfort alone would not stop? The list of known murderers had only grown as time went on, as more of even her good friends had succumbed to the pressure, to the allure of another chance at life, and had ended the life of another person. Even of the people that had not yet killed, how many of them were like Astrid, already convinced to take the plunge and simply without the chance to act on it yet?
Penelope munched on a calorie bar that she had absentmindedly pulled from her bag, doing her best to ignore the dry texture and unpleasant flavor. She rested her head on Raina, staring at the wall of the bedroom they were in.
She swallowed as she looked around the room and at everyone in it. There was little hope that her plan could possibly succeed when even some of her friends, even sweet Alessio, had gone off the deep end in a way that couldn't be reversed. There was little hope that they could possibly somehow outwit a terrorist organization with years of experience and a vast difference in available equipment and escape.
She stared at Ben, who was absentmindedly looking off in the distance. If they couldn't win, if they couldn't beat the terrorists, then how many of the people around her right now would she see die before her very eyes?
And if she died before them, how many of them would see her die? How many of them would have to live with her death until they died themselves?
She gulped and resumed staring off into the distance, doing her best to breathe and relax. Despite her best efforts, however, she couldn't ignore the gnawing thoughts in the back of her head.
She was afraid.
((Penelope Fitzgerald continued in Hyphaema))
Her thoughts strayed back to the uncertainties, to the people who had already killed. How long would it be until they ran into someone that words and offers of comfort alone would not stop? The list of known murderers had only grown as time went on, as more of even her good friends had succumbed to the pressure, to the allure of another chance at life, and had ended the life of another person. Even of the people that had not yet killed, how many of them were like Astrid, already convinced to take the plunge and simply without the chance to act on it yet?
Penelope munched on a calorie bar that she had absentmindedly pulled from her bag, doing her best to ignore the dry texture and unpleasant flavor. She rested her head on Raina, staring at the wall of the bedroom they were in.
She swallowed as she looked around the room and at everyone in it. There was little hope that her plan could possibly succeed when even some of her friends, even sweet Alessio, had gone off the deep end in a way that couldn't be reversed. There was little hope that they could possibly somehow outwit a terrorist organization with years of experience and a vast difference in available equipment and escape.
She stared at Ben, who was absentmindedly looking off in the distance. If they couldn't win, if they couldn't beat the terrorists, then how many of the people around her right now would she see die before her very eyes?
And if she died before them, how many of them would see her die? How many of them would have to live with her death until they died themselves?
She gulped and resumed staring off into the distance, doing her best to breathe and relax. Despite her best efforts, however, she couldn't ignore the gnawing thoughts in the back of her head.
She was afraid.
((Penelope Fitzgerald continued in Hyphaema))