But what if that minute is enough for them to come back?
Instead, outloud, Molly said, “Okay.”
Lúcio had said his name outloud, or at least enough of it for Molly to know who the almost-corpse was. She knew enough through friends of friends to know that Oakley was kind of a walking drama. Both theatre-wise and socially. Otherwise, it was mostly just his fashion that she was aware of.
At least it wasn’t a friend, but…
She still kept her gaze away from Oakley. Instead, she ended up staring at the rock that had clearly been used to bludgeon him. She rested the handle of the sword in the crook of her elbow, the tip buried in the ground, and raised her hands to make a blinder for her eyes so she could look around the scene without looking directly at Oakley.
Bloody rock. No bag. Were there footprints? Treat it like one of her murder-mystery games, and not look at the body (and not consider whether this was a murder yet or not, Oakley might be talking but did that actually mean he’d survive this) and this would be… fine.
Just thought I would spice things up a bit.
Open, CW severe head injuries
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ViolentMedic
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Grand Moff Hissa
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The voices were comforting. Soothing. Oakley blinked and stared at the face(s?) he still couldn't parse or recognize. The words washed over him and his lips quirked a tiny bit. He nodded in agreement, unsure what he was agreeing to.
There were a few people around, maybe? All this talking, among themselves and to him, and he still couldn't make anything distinct out. Until, suddenly, he could. The directions were clear: Remember. Take as much time as needed.
And there, in a flash, was something that Oakley had been trying to remember for days and weeks, though he'd finally gotten it down pat a few days before the trip, and so it rolled out at first with the natural cadence that came to iambic pentameter only through arduous practice:
"I will be brief, for my short date of breath
Is not so long as is a tedious tale.
Romeo, there dead, was husband..."
But his voice trailed off. Everything was very fuzzy. His brows came together, but unevenly with the damage to his eye.
"Romeo," he said, "there dead, was...
"Romeo...
"Romeo, there dead, was husband to..."
His frown deepened. He'd always hated flubbing lines, and that at least was still a clear thought. His enunciation had fallen apart, slurred and broken, and he took a deep and rasping breath but it just wasn't coming.
But these people were kind, and gentle, even if Oakley couldn't see them or tell who they were precisely, even if he didn't know where he was or what was going on. It was bright but cold, and he might be still in bed, and maybe it would be better to close his eyes and take the time he needed, and he'd remember everything when he woke up. There'd been something that felt really, really important, but maybe it actually wasn't, just like missing a line didn't matter when you weren't on stage. It could wait, couldn't it? There'd be time.
His eyes slid closed, and he let himself drift off.
After that, Oakley was unresponsive. A minute or so after his stumbled attempt at reciting Friar Laurence's final monologue, he gave a shiver and his already-unsteady breathing became a choking rasp and then stopped.
It took a little longer for him to properly expire, but whatever was happening around him, he was oblivious to it.
There were a few people around, maybe? All this talking, among themselves and to him, and he still couldn't make anything distinct out. Until, suddenly, he could. The directions were clear: Remember. Take as much time as needed.
And there, in a flash, was something that Oakley had been trying to remember for days and weeks, though he'd finally gotten it down pat a few days before the trip, and so it rolled out at first with the natural cadence that came to iambic pentameter only through arduous practice:
"I will be brief, for my short date of breath
Is not so long as is a tedious tale.
Romeo, there dead, was husband..."
But his voice trailed off. Everything was very fuzzy. His brows came together, but unevenly with the damage to his eye.
"Romeo," he said, "there dead, was...
"Romeo...
"Romeo, there dead, was husband to..."
His frown deepened. He'd always hated flubbing lines, and that at least was still a clear thought. His enunciation had fallen apart, slurred and broken, and he took a deep and rasping breath but it just wasn't coming.
But these people were kind, and gentle, even if Oakley couldn't see them or tell who they were precisely, even if he didn't know where he was or what was going on. It was bright but cold, and he might be still in bed, and maybe it would be better to close his eyes and take the time he needed, and he'd remember everything when he woke up. There'd been something that felt really, really important, but maybe it actually wasn't, just like missing a line didn't matter when you weren't on stage. It could wait, couldn't it? There'd be time.
His eyes slid closed, and he let himself drift off.
After that, Oakley was unresponsive. A minute or so after his stumbled attempt at reciting Friar Laurence's final monologue, he gave a shiver and his already-unsteady breathing became a choking rasp and then stopped.
It took a little longer for him to properly expire, but whatever was happening around him, he was oblivious to it.
S113 - OAKLEY YORK: DECEASED
I bid you all dark greetings!
Mitch couldn't help but start to feel pretty jazzed that their efforts seemed to be making a difference, adrenaline still flowing through his body as he began to clench and unclench his fist.
They actually did it. For the briefest moment he felt nothing but elation that they had managed to be big damn heroes, unable to help but let out an excited laugh of relief. Shit, is this how it felt to save a man's life? He should've taken his crazy uncle Trevor's advice and look into being a firefighter like him, he hadn't felt this good about anything else in his entire life!
"Holy shit, bro... Lucio, my BOY!" he exclaimed, unable to resist giving his friend a light punch in the shoulder. "Fuckin' saved a life! We actua..."
He promptly shut the fuck up once Oaks started mumbling, listening intently to what he had to say. His laugher would slowly die down, the wide grin on his face slowly subsiding. Was he... Quoting Shakespeare? That was... Odd.
He could sense that there was something amiss, his chest tightening up as Oaks began to drift again. No, nonono, he couldn't be...
"Woah woah, heyheyhey, stay with us bro!" he said, a hint of panic in his voice as he opened up his bag to start rummaging through it's contents. There had to be something in there he could use to help him, like an adrenaline shot or some medicine or... There's no way that Oaks was about to... No, not when they were so close!
"St-stay with us, man!" he choked, his hands shaking, the smile completely gone. He struggled to think of what he could do, not wanting to risk making things worse by trying to shake him awake or slap him across the face or whatever it was people tended to do in the movies. He had gone from feeling like a hero to feeling completely helpless, unable to do a thing to prevent the inevitable.
He took out an EpiPen, some random vials of medicine, and whatever else he could get his hands on. But by that point, even if he could do something, it was too late.
Those various bits of medical equipment would slip from Mitch's shaky fingers, his face turning a ghostly shade of pale.
"Oh... O-oh fuck..."
They actually did it. For the briefest moment he felt nothing but elation that they had managed to be big damn heroes, unable to help but let out an excited laugh of relief. Shit, is this how it felt to save a man's life? He should've taken his crazy uncle Trevor's advice and look into being a firefighter like him, he hadn't felt this good about anything else in his entire life!
"Holy shit, bro... Lucio, my BOY!" he exclaimed, unable to resist giving his friend a light punch in the shoulder. "Fuckin' saved a life! We actua..."
He promptly shut the fuck up once Oaks started mumbling, listening intently to what he had to say. His laugher would slowly die down, the wide grin on his face slowly subsiding. Was he... Quoting Shakespeare? That was... Odd.
He could sense that there was something amiss, his chest tightening up as Oaks began to drift again. No, nonono, he couldn't be...
"Woah woah, heyheyhey, stay with us bro!" he said, a hint of panic in his voice as he opened up his bag to start rummaging through it's contents. There had to be something in there he could use to help him, like an adrenaline shot or some medicine or... There's no way that Oaks was about to... No, not when they were so close!
"St-stay with us, man!" he choked, his hands shaking, the smile completely gone. He struggled to think of what he could do, not wanting to risk making things worse by trying to shake him awake or slap him across the face or whatever it was people tended to do in the movies. He had gone from feeling like a hero to feeling completely helpless, unable to do a thing to prevent the inevitable.
He took out an EpiPen, some random vials of medicine, and whatever else he could get his hands on. But by that point, even if he could do something, it was too late.
Those various bits of medical equipment would slip from Mitch's shaky fingers, his face turning a ghostly shade of pale.
"Oh... O-oh fuck..."
"I think he's dead."
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VoltTurtle
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Perhaps it had been a bit too soon for Lúcio to start patting himself on the ass for a job well done.
His heart had sunk the moment Oakley randomly started slurring out words from Romeo & Juliet, and when the boy went quiet again, he knew deep in his heart that it was over. Despite that, he allowed himself to believe that Oakley was just delirious from blood loss, and would come to again. Sliding his fingers along the boy's neck to check once more for a pulse quickly dashed what little hope that lie had provided him.
"He's gone."
Lúcio withdrew his hand. He had done his best, and it hadn't been good enough.
"Dammit."
He shut his eyes, squeezing his hands into fists, knuckles turning white.
"DAMMIT."
His heart had sunk the moment Oakley randomly started slurring out words from Romeo & Juliet, and when the boy went quiet again, he knew deep in his heart that it was over. Despite that, he allowed himself to believe that Oakley was just delirious from blood loss, and would come to again. Sliding his fingers along the boy's neck to check once more for a pulse quickly dashed what little hope that lie had provided him.
"He's gone."
Lúcio withdrew his hand. He had done his best, and it hadn't been good enough.
"Dammit."
He shut his eyes, squeezing his hands into fists, knuckles turning white.
"DAMMIT."
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ViolentMedic
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It was fine. It was fine. It was fine.
The theatre stuff was nothing. He was a theatre kid. That meant he was getting better.
It was fine. It was fine.
…
……okay. It wasn’t.
A few dozen things she should do flickered through her mind. Comfort Lúcio and tell him it wasn’t his fault, or tell the others that, or suggest something respectful, like a burial or whatever, or… or at least find it in her to look at the corpse.
Instead, she turned her back on Oakley and the others crowded around him, and took a few steps away.
“Sooooo… that, um… finding a hole to go hide in feels like a good idea, right now!” Molly clapped her hands together. Her face stuck in a rigor mortis of a smile. “Let’s, uh… let’s go! Let’s go~” She clapped her hands again, this time a little impatiently as she waited for the others.
The theatre stuff was nothing. He was a theatre kid. That meant he was getting better.
It was fine. It was fine.
…
……okay. It wasn’t.
A few dozen things she should do flickered through her mind. Comfort Lúcio and tell him it wasn’t his fault, or tell the others that, or suggest something respectful, like a burial or whatever, or… or at least find it in her to look at the corpse.
Instead, she turned her back on Oakley and the others crowded around him, and took a few steps away.
“Sooooo… that, um… finding a hole to go hide in feels like a good idea, right now!” Molly clapped her hands together. Her face stuck in a rigor mortis of a smile. “Let’s, uh… let’s go! Let’s go~” She clapped her hands again, this time a little impatiently as she waited for the others.
Mitch stared unblinking at Oakley's face, watching it drain of all colour as the life left him.
He'd never seen a real dead body before. Well, neither had most folk, but after watching god knows how many R rated movies and playing every violent video game he could get his hands on he thought he'd be a bit more prepared for this.
The guy looked so... Inanimate. Like a wax dummy, calling him lifeless at this point felt like an understatement. It was difficult to imagine that he had ever been alive to begin with.
Mitch looked up at Molly as she suggested that they head off, go back to looking for a hole to hide in like nothing had happened. Mitch couldn't help but let out a light chuckle.
"Yeah, haha, I guess we could... Get digging, right?" he said, forcing grin as he got up to his feet, looking over to where he'd stuck that digging bar into the ground. "I mean... Can't just leave Oaks out here in the open, right? Let him get picked apart by birds, or wolves, or... Deer..." he continued, grabbing that bar and lifting it up, jamming it firmly into the ground as he got to work.
"I told you guys about how I saw this puppy get used on YouTube, right?" he continued, sticking the bar back into the ground and grunting as he scooped out a pitiful amount of dirt and snow. "It's pretty amazing what these fellas can get done with enough time, patience, and hard work. Like, they fuckin... They build entire swimming pools with elaborate slides, firepits, the whole shebang. Only using digging bars like these and whatever they can get their hands on!"
He was obviously struggling to dig this hole. The digging bar was longer than he was for starters, nor was it really the ideal piece of equipment for the job despite the name. Small holes for planting something in your back garden, or chipping away at concrete? Perfect. For a human sized grave however, it was highly impractical.
"I mean... I always wondered how... They got, like, the mud cement to work..." he continued, his digging bar hitting something hard that refused to budge, his hands gripping it tightly as he pulled back to try again. "I just kinda figured they were smarter than me, y'know? Most folk are... But you gotta look past that, y'know, you gotta..."
He slammed that bar back down into the ground again, grunting as it got stuck. "You've got to... You gotta fuckin' will yourself into believing you can get the job done, right? That you can really make a difference, that you're not..."
He violently tugged back on the bar, forcing it free and ramming it back into the ground, stabbing it again and again. "That... You're... Not... Some... Fucking... Useless... SACK... OF... SHIT!!!"
He'd never seen a real dead body before. Well, neither had most folk, but after watching god knows how many R rated movies and playing every violent video game he could get his hands on he thought he'd be a bit more prepared for this.
The guy looked so... Inanimate. Like a wax dummy, calling him lifeless at this point felt like an understatement. It was difficult to imagine that he had ever been alive to begin with.
Mitch looked up at Molly as she suggested that they head off, go back to looking for a hole to hide in like nothing had happened. Mitch couldn't help but let out a light chuckle.
"Yeah, haha, I guess we could... Get digging, right?" he said, forcing grin as he got up to his feet, looking over to where he'd stuck that digging bar into the ground. "I mean... Can't just leave Oaks out here in the open, right? Let him get picked apart by birds, or wolves, or... Deer..." he continued, grabbing that bar and lifting it up, jamming it firmly into the ground as he got to work.
"I told you guys about how I saw this puppy get used on YouTube, right?" he continued, sticking the bar back into the ground and grunting as he scooped out a pitiful amount of dirt and snow. "It's pretty amazing what these fellas can get done with enough time, patience, and hard work. Like, they fuckin... They build entire swimming pools with elaborate slides, firepits, the whole shebang. Only using digging bars like these and whatever they can get their hands on!"
He was obviously struggling to dig this hole. The digging bar was longer than he was for starters, nor was it really the ideal piece of equipment for the job despite the name. Small holes for planting something in your back garden, or chipping away at concrete? Perfect. For a human sized grave however, it was highly impractical.
"I mean... I always wondered how... They got, like, the mud cement to work..." he continued, his digging bar hitting something hard that refused to budge, his hands gripping it tightly as he pulled back to try again. "I just kinda figured they were smarter than me, y'know? Most folk are... But you gotta look past that, y'know, you gotta..."
He slammed that bar back down into the ground again, grunting as it got stuck. "You've got to... You gotta fuckin' will yourself into believing you can get the job done, right? That you can really make a difference, that you're not..."
He violently tugged back on the bar, forcing it free and ramming it back into the ground, stabbing it again and again. "That... You're... Not... Some... Fucking... Useless... SACK... OF... SHIT!!!"
Marian was good at capitalizing on opportunities.
Well, the fact that she's mentally calling someone she could have called a friend dying an opportunity kinda' spoke in detail about what type of person she was, you know? She wasn't like the best, but she wasn't like the worst. And Marian knew his death would be in vain if she didn't do anything. The killer was one step closer to going home, and Marian needed to get ahead.
She had to get ahead.
Marian kneeled next to him, her stomach churning. Was he even dead yet? She had heard the death rattle. But he could still be saved... maybe? The Lúcio guy looked pretty confident that he was a goner and-
"Oh my god, I'm looking at a dead body." She commented, her voice too low for everyone to hear.
Marian had never been so close to one. It was so...
Weird. And strange. And inconceivable. Even her grandparents' dead bodies seemed more normal than this. Marian raised a hand to her open mouth and started coughing. It felt like something was coming up. It felt like she was about to vomit. Her eyes watered as she fought back the urge. She tried to ground herself from the boy screaming, focusing on his word and her breathing, but the feeling was overwhelming.
"I'm gonna- I'm gonna-"
Marian focused on her mission.
She had to do this.
She had to avoid other Oakleys.
"Let me make him presentable." She gasped for air as a flurry of vomit went up her throat. She swallowed it, made a grossed-out face, and then finished her sentence. "I'll clean him up."
Well, the fact that she's mentally calling someone she could have called a friend dying an opportunity kinda' spoke in detail about what type of person she was, you know? She wasn't like the best, but she wasn't like the worst. And Marian knew his death would be in vain if she didn't do anything. The killer was one step closer to going home, and Marian needed to get ahead.
She had to get ahead.
Marian kneeled next to him, her stomach churning. Was he even dead yet? She had heard the death rattle. But he could still be saved... maybe? The Lúcio guy looked pretty confident that he was a goner and-
"Oh my god, I'm looking at a dead body." She commented, her voice too low for everyone to hear.
Marian had never been so close to one. It was so...
Weird. And strange. And inconceivable. Even her grandparents' dead bodies seemed more normal than this. Marian raised a hand to her open mouth and started coughing. It felt like something was coming up. It felt like she was about to vomit. Her eyes watered as she fought back the urge. She tried to ground herself from the boy screaming, focusing on his word and her breathing, but the feeling was overwhelming.
"I'm gonna- I'm gonna-"
Marian focused on her mission.
She had to do this.
She had to avoid other Oakleys.
"Let me make him presentable." She gasped for air as a flurry of vomit went up her throat. She swallowed it, made a grossed-out face, and then finished her sentence. "I'll clean him up."
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VoltTurtle
- Posts: 1545
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Lúcio stood up, silent, eyes staring into Oakley's own. He removed the emergency blanket and the extra outfit he had offered as a pillow, silently tucking them away into his bag.
For a moment, he watched Mitch get to work with the digging bar, his comments reflecting Lúcio's own thoughts. He nodded to Marian, trying to suppress his own bile that was rising in his throat.
"Yeah. We should give him a proper burial," was all that Lúcio said in reply.
Then he stood there, stock-stiff, not doing anything of note, until he suddenly turned to his sister and pulled her into a hug. He didn't say anything to her, the weight of his presence doing the speaking for him. A tear slipped down one of his cheeks, and he sniffled.
"We're really in the shit, huh?" he whispered into her ear, voice breaking.
For a moment, he watched Mitch get to work with the digging bar, his comments reflecting Lúcio's own thoughts. He nodded to Marian, trying to suppress his own bile that was rising in his throat.
"Yeah. We should give him a proper burial," was all that Lúcio said in reply.
Then he stood there, stock-stiff, not doing anything of note, until he suddenly turned to his sister and pulled her into a hug. He didn't say anything to her, the weight of his presence doing the speaking for him. A tear slipped down one of his cheeks, and he sniffled.
"We're really in the shit, huh?" he whispered into her ear, voice breaking.
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ViolentMedic
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Molly returned the hug with one arm, the other arm crushed awkwardly as she tried not to impale Lúcio by accident. She felt a split-second overwhelming urge to fall into the hug, cry, scream, and generally fall apart. But then the urge was crushed by the bigger, more consistent need to ignore problems until they went away.
“No… no, we’re fine,” Molly said outloud. She couldn’t get her mouth out of that frozen smile. “H-hey, uh… look, um… Mitch, chill. Okay?”
They were both thinking about it too much. It was like the girls who got caught up in drama and kept bringing it back, when there was no reason not to let it lie.
“Look, um… we should just… not dwell on it, you know?” Molly said as she tightened her grip on Lúcio. She spoke over his shoulder primarily at Mitch. Marian didn’t look like she needed much calming. Not right now. “Because those mud pool guys… they probably trained for years? And brain surgeons, years too? We shouldn’t think about it… we just gotta accept that it isn’t our fault.
“But like… if no-one died… the f-fuckers were going to blow us all up. So, um… maybe this is for the best, you know? So we should just, um…”
Molly waved her hand vaguely in Oakley’s direction before she returned her arm to the hug. Shifting slightly so that Lúcio’s torso blocked the body out of her view.
“Help Marian with the, um… tidying,” she said, voice muffled by Lúcio’s shoulder. Pay respects and, well, go. And we can just… y’know… hope that whoever comes to pick us up picks him up too?”
How did they make a corpse presentable, anyway? Not like there were flowers in this snow.
“No… no, we’re fine,” Molly said outloud. She couldn’t get her mouth out of that frozen smile. “H-hey, uh… look, um… Mitch, chill. Okay?”
They were both thinking about it too much. It was like the girls who got caught up in drama and kept bringing it back, when there was no reason not to let it lie.
“Look, um… we should just… not dwell on it, you know?” Molly said as she tightened her grip on Lúcio. She spoke over his shoulder primarily at Mitch. Marian didn’t look like she needed much calming. Not right now. “Because those mud pool guys… they probably trained for years? And brain surgeons, years too? We shouldn’t think about it… we just gotta accept that it isn’t our fault.
“But like… if no-one died… the f-fuckers were going to blow us all up. So, um… maybe this is for the best, you know? So we should just, um…”
Molly waved her hand vaguely in Oakley’s direction before she returned her arm to the hug. Shifting slightly so that Lúcio’s torso blocked the body out of her view.
“Help Marian with the, um… tidying,” she said, voice muffled by Lúcio’s shoulder. Pay respects and, well, go. And we can just… y’know… hope that whoever comes to pick us up picks him up too?”
How did they make a corpse presentable, anyway? Not like there were flowers in this snow.
Mitch violently impaled the ground with his digging bar one more time before stopping, dropping to his knees to catch his breath.
He listened as Molly spoke, doing her best to reassure him after his loud outburst. He briefly raised an eyebrow when she mentioned something about Oakley's death maybe being for the best, but decided not to dwell on it. It wasn't as if the same intrusive thought hadn't popped up in his own head at some point during all this.
Still, at the very least Molly managed to calm him down, his breathing steadying as he wiped his brow. "Sorry about that, I just..." he began, not really sure how to explain. It was such an alien feeling for him after all, probably the first time he ever truly felt like shit after failing to achieve something. Sure he had lost his fair share of games over the years, especially when it came to basketball, but he never... It never hit him quite like this did. He was always able to just laugh it off, go "Ah well, better luck next time!"
Maybe that was it. There wouldn't be a next time for this. Oakley was dead. He was alive one minute, and then he wasn't. He'd never felt so helpless in his entire life, and he hated every fucking second of it.
"I just needed to vent, is all" he eventually replied, before looking back at the others as he wiped something wet from his eyes. Seeing Marian tending to the body, he looked back down at the digging bar and sighed. He wasn't going to be digging a human-sized grave with this thing, not without him spending several hours on it at least. But, that didn't mean there wasn't something he COULD do for Oakley...
And so, he would gather up as much snow as he could fit into his arms, and bring it over to place down upon Oakley's legs. After which he began to pat it down, slowly burying him beneath a layer of snow from the feet up. It wasn't much, certainly didn't beat a proper grave, but he figured it'd be better than just leaving him to the birds.
He listened as Molly spoke, doing her best to reassure him after his loud outburst. He briefly raised an eyebrow when she mentioned something about Oakley's death maybe being for the best, but decided not to dwell on it. It wasn't as if the same intrusive thought hadn't popped up in his own head at some point during all this.
Still, at the very least Molly managed to calm him down, his breathing steadying as he wiped his brow. "Sorry about that, I just..." he began, not really sure how to explain. It was such an alien feeling for him after all, probably the first time he ever truly felt like shit after failing to achieve something. Sure he had lost his fair share of games over the years, especially when it came to basketball, but he never... It never hit him quite like this did. He was always able to just laugh it off, go "Ah well, better luck next time!"
Maybe that was it. There wouldn't be a next time for this. Oakley was dead. He was alive one minute, and then he wasn't. He'd never felt so helpless in his entire life, and he hated every fucking second of it.
"I just needed to vent, is all" he eventually replied, before looking back at the others as he wiped something wet from his eyes. Seeing Marian tending to the body, he looked back down at the digging bar and sighed. He wasn't going to be digging a human-sized grave with this thing, not without him spending several hours on it at least. But, that didn't mean there wasn't something he COULD do for Oakley...
And so, he would gather up as much snow as he could fit into his arms, and bring it over to place down upon Oakley's legs. After which he began to pat it down, slowly burying him beneath a layer of snow from the feet up. It wasn't much, certainly didn't beat a proper grave, but he figured it'd be better than just leaving him to the birds.
The words of Molly only made Marian angry, but it wasn't very noticeable. Her face was already red from exertion and from the cold, and her face was already stuck in a permanent shocked expression. It just felt like it wouldn't away until she would be off the island, and she wasn't even sure if she were going to get there in the first place.
"I c-c- I can do this alone," she said, suspiciously. She clearly needed help, and now, she was fumbling with her bag. "I'll take care of..."
She looked up at the trio, her shoulders drooped. She started to speak, but said nothing, the little words stuck in the back of throat like an annoying tonsil stone. She pressed her lips together, Marian not feeling them anymore.
"Maybe we could..."
She doesn't finish that sentence either.
The silence really made it clear that the situation couldn't be made better. Marian's eyes went back to the dead body of her classmate. Was she actually going to do the thing that was going through her mind? Would she actually go through with her plan? It was fine in theory. In her mind, she could be near dead bodies and analyze them, but...
Oakley slightly ajar mouth was real.
Marian put a hand to her mouth, whispered a prayer, and started crying.
"I c-c- I can do this alone," she said, suspiciously. She clearly needed help, and now, she was fumbling with her bag. "I'll take care of..."
She looked up at the trio, her shoulders drooped. She started to speak, but said nothing, the little words stuck in the back of throat like an annoying tonsil stone. She pressed her lips together, Marian not feeling them anymore.
"Maybe we could..."
She doesn't finish that sentence either.
The silence really made it clear that the situation couldn't be made better. Marian's eyes went back to the dead body of her classmate. Was she actually going to do the thing that was going through her mind? Would she actually go through with her plan? It was fine in theory. In her mind, she could be near dead bodies and analyze them, but...
Oakley slightly ajar mouth was real.
Marian put a hand to her mouth, whispered a prayer, and started crying.
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VoltTurtle
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Lúcio gave Molly one last squeeze before letting her go, doing his damnedest to disregard her comment that Oakley's death was somehow for the best.
None of this was okay or for the best. Even if nobody died, he didn't think the monsters that put them in this situation had the brass balls required to blow them all up. That would ruin the game, right? Waste all their time, force them to go back into hiding for years to come? Their threats were bullshit, and they knew it better than he did. When this was all said and done, he was going to shove his foot so far up their asses that when they open their mouths, all anyone would see is the tip of his boot.
Briefly, he wondered how Ari was holding up. Had she gotten her skull caved in too? He needed to find her soon.
He took a deep breath, trying to calm his frayed nerves, and puffed out his chest. It was time for him to take charge again, recoup what he could of this terrible situation. Except, just as soon as he puffed up, he faltered, the wind taken out of his sails immediately. He was a god damn idiot, way out of his depth. He didn't know shit about fuck, let alone how to salvage this.
"Could," he started to say, lip trembling, "could what, Marian?"
Any ideas were better than nothing.
None of this was okay or for the best. Even if nobody died, he didn't think the monsters that put them in this situation had the brass balls required to blow them all up. That would ruin the game, right? Waste all their time, force them to go back into hiding for years to come? Their threats were bullshit, and they knew it better than he did. When this was all said and done, he was going to shove his foot so far up their asses that when they open their mouths, all anyone would see is the tip of his boot.
Briefly, he wondered how Ari was holding up. Had she gotten her skull caved in too? He needed to find her soon.
He took a deep breath, trying to calm his frayed nerves, and puffed out his chest. It was time for him to take charge again, recoup what he could of this terrible situation. Except, just as soon as he puffed up, he faltered, the wind taken out of his sails immediately. He was a god damn idiot, way out of his depth. He didn't know shit about fuck, let alone how to salvage this.
"Could," he started to say, lip trembling, "could what, Marian?"
Any ideas were better than nothing.
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ViolentMedic
- Posts: 1443
- Joined: Fri Aug 17, 2018 7:53 am
Yeah. Snow would work. Quicker, and then it’d be the problem of whoever tripped over him. Not hers. Molly nodded slightly at Mitch’s actons. A little snow, and they could go.
Of course Marian had to say two words that ruined any chance of Lúcio quickly leaving. Of moving on as fast as possible, and forgetting the name Oakley York just like they would have if they’d reached the end of high school.
...But.
But if there was anything to that ‘we could,’ then…
Because what was Molly going to do otherwise, besides hope that Oakley was the only dead classmate?
So she crossed her arms and tapped one foot idly behind her, impatience to leave still evident… but she watched Marian just as Lúcio did.
Of course Marian had to say two words that ruined any chance of Lúcio quickly leaving. Of moving on as fast as possible, and forgetting the name Oakley York just like they would have if they’d reached the end of high school.
...But.
But if there was anything to that ‘we could,’ then…
Because what was Molly going to do otherwise, besides hope that Oakley was the only dead classmate?
So she crossed her arms and tapped one foot idly behind her, impatience to leave still evident… but she watched Marian just as Lúcio did.
Mitch had managed to bury Oakley up to his thighs in snow by the time Marian started speaking again, pausing as he looked up to her.
He wasn't sure what to say. She was obviously not in a good way, not that he could exactly blame her. This wasn't the kind of situation he ever wanted to be in, knowing full well that he was possibly the worst person to rely on as an emotional crutch. He was the McDuffinator! Local class clown, future twitch legend, pro-gamer extraordinaire! In what world was he the kind of person suited to counseling a traumatised young girl?
Nevertheless, he knew he couldn't just sit by and say nothing as Marian started crying.
"H-hey, it's alright..." he says as gently as he could, hesitantly raising his hand in an offer to place it reassuringly on her shoulder. Some folk appreciated that, others did not, and he wasn't going to make any assumptions either way without gauging her reaction first.
"Look, you... You don't hafta force yourself to do this if you don't want to, ain't nobody here gonna judge you for that" he continued, briefly glancing back down at Oakley's cold dead body.
"Lucio and I can bury the rest of him in a matter of minutes, then we can all..." he adds, looking back up to the Oliveiras as he found himself lost for words. "Well, we'll figure something out."
He wasn't sure what to say. She was obviously not in a good way, not that he could exactly blame her. This wasn't the kind of situation he ever wanted to be in, knowing full well that he was possibly the worst person to rely on as an emotional crutch. He was the McDuffinator! Local class clown, future twitch legend, pro-gamer extraordinaire! In what world was he the kind of person suited to counseling a traumatised young girl?
Nevertheless, he knew he couldn't just sit by and say nothing as Marian started crying.
"H-hey, it's alright..." he says as gently as he could, hesitantly raising his hand in an offer to place it reassuringly on her shoulder. Some folk appreciated that, others did not, and he wasn't going to make any assumptions either way without gauging her reaction first.
"Look, you... You don't hafta force yourself to do this if you don't want to, ain't nobody here gonna judge you for that" he continued, briefly glancing back down at Oakley's cold dead body.
"Lucio and I can bury the rest of him in a matter of minutes, then we can all..." he adds, looking back up to the Oliveiras as he found himself lost for words. "Well, we'll figure something out."