Kai shouted down to inform, Evie and Claire (presumably) that nobody else was around. And Claire was there, starting to get nervous. Mixed feelings then, one bit of relief, one point of concern. That was alright, Evie had confidence she could walk her friend through it, it was the pain involved that she was more worried about. Holding onto something, that was a good start, but she could do one better.
"Okay, right."
Doing her best to keep the grimace off of her face in what could probably be described as revere-bedside-manner, Evie started looping the strap of her daypack over itself until it was about as thick as her closed fist.
"You gotta wash the blood away first. Then sterilise it with alcohol. Then, uh..."
She lifted the wad of fabric up towards her mouth.
"I don't know if it needs stitches, um, best judgement there? If you think it needs it and you think you can do it."
The confidence was a little forced, but somebody had to have a brave face. Evie's bravado mostly extended to the sorts of things that followed statements like "check this out" rather than first aid, and the wounds she'd sustained after doing that sort of thing had never been this bad, but she was still fairly sure she'd be okay as long as Claire didn't totally mess up, and lack of confidence seemed like the only reason she should.
"I'm gonna bite down on this because rubbing alcohol stings like hell. Oh, uh, obviously, big dressing over the wound, then wrap it up really tightly. Like tighter than looks like it should be comfortable. Gotta keep pressure on it."
Her teeth sank into cloth. Then she spat it back out for one last afterthought.
"Oh and wear the gloves if they gave us any."
Evie bit down again, grabbed fistfuls of her overcoat, closed her eyes, and waited. It occurred to her briefly that Ash still hadn't joined them, but she had enough else on her mind to not question that thought too much.
You Missed My Heart
You got me good, I knew you would, (concluded)
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Dr Adjective
- Posts: 435
- Joined: Mon Jul 06, 2020 8:25 pm
- Location: UK
Ashlyn didn't have a retort for that, apparently. That was a little surprising. Kai wouldn't have expected her to take offense at the accusation - or maybe just the observation - that she'd try to win something at all costs. That was just who she was, and she usually seemed proud of it.
She gave him a nod. More acknowledgement than she'd ever given him most of the time before. Then she just... left. Like the scene unfolding in front of her wasn't happening. Like she'd gotten all she could out of it. Out of the people here. Kai watched her go, until she disappeared among the rest of the trees too far for his eyes to follow.
He wondered sourly how that attitude would fare with somebody who actually did have a gun. Somebody like whoever had attacked Evie. Somebody less numb and more desperate. Someone who wouldn't think of Kitty's anguish immediately after any thought of pushing Ash back when she stepped over the line passed through their heads.
"God-" Kai breathed in, exhaled. A cloud of breath momentarily fogged up his glasses. "-dammit."
And he began to climb down. He hooked one arm through his bag along the way, slinging it over his shoulder. It bumped and scraped along the branches as he moved, shaking nettles and snow loose. He stopped at the place where he'd shoved the umbrella up into the tree and pushed it loose with his foot until it tumbled to the ground by the fallen beach towel. It was a light thing, but with some jury-rigging, it could work as part of a shelter.
After knocking the umbrella down, Kai followed it, dropping from the lower branches into the snow with a grunt. One hand steadied his glasses so they didn't go tumbling off his face. Then he slowly unfolded himself back up to standing height, rolling his shoulders back a bit after holding a hunched position for so long up in the tree. He picked the beach towel up, brushed the snow from it, and stowed it properly inside his bag, then picked up the umbrella and balanced it on one shoulder.
"I'm-" He started to say, then cut himself off. Evie and Claire didn't know him. They probably didn't care what he was doing. Or they'd get the wrong idea. Or that would happen anyway if he didn't say anything. Kai exhaled again, in a slower and more controlled manner.
He didn't think he could give them more help than what they already had, with Evie instructing Claire on first aid. Just another pair of hands getting in the way. An unknown third wheel hovering on the edge of the trust that they seemed to share from a place before here.
"I'm following Ashlyn." And he did so, trailing the perfect path that she'd carved into the snow. Soon the voices of the other girls were swallowed up by the wintry forest landscape, replaced by just the sounds of Kai's breathing and his footsteps crunching in the snow.
Ash probably wouldn't want his company. That was less a guess and more a fact of life. He was one of the people that was beneath her. Most people were in that category, it seemed like.
So. Here was the question: if that attitude didn't get Ash hurt or killed, what would it do to someone else? Someone that tried to challenge her in a "fair fight"?"
He could imagine her easily. Staring him down again. Offended at the suggestion. Do you think I'd kill someone, Kai? Also offended at the implication that maybe she couldn't, probably.
Kai didn't have a real answer to that, at least not outside of- here. This place and situation. Here, it didn't seem like a question that mattered as much. Here, people did things they never thought they'd do otherwise. That always seemed to be the message.
Instead, he thought of being at school. The thing about being someone who didn't have a lot of friends and who generally kept to himself was that people talked a lot. Often enough, they were willing to talk right in front of someone if they didn't think that person was paying attention. Or if they didn't think that person mattered. Ash was the kind of person that people talked about a lot.
Kitty talked about her plenty too. Ash used to hit me because I couldn't act right. I embarrassed her and our parents.
Ash was the kind of person that people always made excuses for. It was okay because her behavior was someone else's fault. It was okay because aggressive girls were hot. It was okay because the people she was cruel to were unattractive or weird. It was okay because she'd been hurt in the past too.
It was okay because they were here. Because it was kill or be killed. Because here, it wasn't having a rancid personality. It was just her having what it took to win.
His answer to the imaginary Ash's question: I don't know if you'd kill someone. But I think you'd be able to come up with a reason.
Kai stopped walking. Looked at the trail of Ash's footsteps stretching into the trees in front of him. He wondered how much he would regret following her. How much he would regret not doing so. Kitty would be devastated if something happened to Ash when she wasn't around.
If the opposite happened- Kai had no idea. He genuinely couldn't imagine what Ash's reaction would be. He knew exactly how much tragedy had been in her life, but he was fully incapable of imagining her actually experiencing any sadness at losing another person. She'd always acted like she only wanted Kitty to disappear.
Tomorrow, he would know how much he needed to regret. If he lived to see it. So. Another question: did he really - really - want to spend what might be his last day on this earth following the wrong sister?
Kai stood there a while longer, adjusting and re-adjusting his grip on the umbrella's pole. Snowflakes clung to his hair and settled on the arms and shoulders of his jacket before dissolving. He looked after Ash's footprints, leading somewhere into the future that he couldn't yet see.
He veered away.
((Kai Rosado-Prince continued in Veridis Quo))
She gave him a nod. More acknowledgement than she'd ever given him most of the time before. Then she just... left. Like the scene unfolding in front of her wasn't happening. Like she'd gotten all she could out of it. Out of the people here. Kai watched her go, until she disappeared among the rest of the trees too far for his eyes to follow.
He wondered sourly how that attitude would fare with somebody who actually did have a gun. Somebody like whoever had attacked Evie. Somebody less numb and more desperate. Someone who wouldn't think of Kitty's anguish immediately after any thought of pushing Ash back when she stepped over the line passed through their heads.
"God-" Kai breathed in, exhaled. A cloud of breath momentarily fogged up his glasses. "-dammit."
And he began to climb down. He hooked one arm through his bag along the way, slinging it over his shoulder. It bumped and scraped along the branches as he moved, shaking nettles and snow loose. He stopped at the place where he'd shoved the umbrella up into the tree and pushed it loose with his foot until it tumbled to the ground by the fallen beach towel. It was a light thing, but with some jury-rigging, it could work as part of a shelter.
After knocking the umbrella down, Kai followed it, dropping from the lower branches into the snow with a grunt. One hand steadied his glasses so they didn't go tumbling off his face. Then he slowly unfolded himself back up to standing height, rolling his shoulders back a bit after holding a hunched position for so long up in the tree. He picked the beach towel up, brushed the snow from it, and stowed it properly inside his bag, then picked up the umbrella and balanced it on one shoulder.
"I'm-" He started to say, then cut himself off. Evie and Claire didn't know him. They probably didn't care what he was doing. Or they'd get the wrong idea. Or that would happen anyway if he didn't say anything. Kai exhaled again, in a slower and more controlled manner.
He didn't think he could give them more help than what they already had, with Evie instructing Claire on first aid. Just another pair of hands getting in the way. An unknown third wheel hovering on the edge of the trust that they seemed to share from a place before here.
"I'm following Ashlyn." And he did so, trailing the perfect path that she'd carved into the snow. Soon the voices of the other girls were swallowed up by the wintry forest landscape, replaced by just the sounds of Kai's breathing and his footsteps crunching in the snow.
Ash probably wouldn't want his company. That was less a guess and more a fact of life. He was one of the people that was beneath her. Most people were in that category, it seemed like.
So. Here was the question: if that attitude didn't get Ash hurt or killed, what would it do to someone else? Someone that tried to challenge her in a "fair fight"?"
He could imagine her easily. Staring him down again. Offended at the suggestion. Do you think I'd kill someone, Kai? Also offended at the implication that maybe she couldn't, probably.
Kai didn't have a real answer to that, at least not outside of- here. This place and situation. Here, it didn't seem like a question that mattered as much. Here, people did things they never thought they'd do otherwise. That always seemed to be the message.
Instead, he thought of being at school. The thing about being someone who didn't have a lot of friends and who generally kept to himself was that people talked a lot. Often enough, they were willing to talk right in front of someone if they didn't think that person was paying attention. Or if they didn't think that person mattered. Ash was the kind of person that people talked about a lot.
Kitty talked about her plenty too. Ash used to hit me because I couldn't act right. I embarrassed her and our parents.
Ash was the kind of person that people always made excuses for. It was okay because her behavior was someone else's fault. It was okay because aggressive girls were hot. It was okay because the people she was cruel to were unattractive or weird. It was okay because she'd been hurt in the past too.
It was okay because they were here. Because it was kill or be killed. Because here, it wasn't having a rancid personality. It was just her having what it took to win.
His answer to the imaginary Ash's question: I don't know if you'd kill someone. But I think you'd be able to come up with a reason.
Kai stopped walking. Looked at the trail of Ash's footsteps stretching into the trees in front of him. He wondered how much he would regret following her. How much he would regret not doing so. Kitty would be devastated if something happened to Ash when she wasn't around.
If the opposite happened- Kai had no idea. He genuinely couldn't imagine what Ash's reaction would be. He knew exactly how much tragedy had been in her life, but he was fully incapable of imagining her actually experiencing any sadness at losing another person. She'd always acted like she only wanted Kitty to disappear.
Tomorrow, he would know how much he needed to regret. If he lived to see it. So. Another question: did he really - really - want to spend what might be his last day on this earth following the wrong sister?
Kai stood there a while longer, adjusting and re-adjusting his grip on the umbrella's pole. Snowflakes clung to his hair and settled on the arms and shoulders of his jacket before dissolving. He looked after Ash's footprints, leading somewhere into the future that he couldn't yet see.
He veered away.
((Kai Rosado-Prince continued in Veridis Quo))
"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."
And then the others left them behind. They left no supplies, offered no help, nothing—they'd forsaken them. Ash and Kai had thrown them to the wolves and the vultures. Claire sighed and then gritted her teeth. Everything came down to her now, and the pressure was rising.
"It's just us, then," she murmured, with a frown, "so much for their help."
Claire popped open the first-aid kit. First, she poured the sanitizer on her hands and rubbed it around. Hygiene was important. Poking around a wound without clean hands had killed William McKinley—that wasn't an outcome she wanted to repeat.
Next, she stretched the disposable gloves over her hands and pulled them tight—still, they always felt slightly too loose. Then, she grabbed a bottle of water from the bag and unscrewed the cap; she did so slowly, growing faster until it popped open.
"Water, then saline—that should clean it, I think," she guessed.
Claire poured the water around the wound, trying to avert her eyes. She was squeamish at the best of times, and these weren't those. It made her sick enough to watch the blood trickle away, even without looking at the wound itself.
Then, she screwed the cap back on the bottle and set it aside. There were no gauze pads, so she just cut some of the dressing, folded it, and poured the saline over it. Then, she cleaned the wound further with the makeshift pad.
"Okay, I think we've got that under control," she muttered, "I'm going to use the alcohol now, so brace yourself."
Claire picked up an alcohol pad and held it for a moment; it felt cold, even against the gloves, even in the frigid air. She took a deep breath, then exhaled the white vapor, and then took another breath and held it. Hesitantly, she pressed it to the skin, bracing for the impact.
"It's just us, then," she murmured, with a frown, "so much for their help."
Claire popped open the first-aid kit. First, she poured the sanitizer on her hands and rubbed it around. Hygiene was important. Poking around a wound without clean hands had killed William McKinley—that wasn't an outcome she wanted to repeat.
Next, she stretched the disposable gloves over her hands and pulled them tight—still, they always felt slightly too loose. Then, she grabbed a bottle of water from the bag and unscrewed the cap; she did so slowly, growing faster until it popped open.
"Water, then saline—that should clean it, I think," she guessed.
Claire poured the water around the wound, trying to avert her eyes. She was squeamish at the best of times, and these weren't those. It made her sick enough to watch the blood trickle away, even without looking at the wound itself.
Then, she screwed the cap back on the bottle and set it aside. There were no gauze pads, so she just cut some of the dressing, folded it, and poured the saline over it. Then, she cleaned the wound further with the makeshift pad.
"Okay, I think we've got that under control," she muttered, "I'm going to use the alcohol now, so brace yourself."
Claire picked up an alcohol pad and held it for a moment; it felt cold, even against the gloves, even in the frigid air. She took a deep breath, then exhaled the white vapor, and then took another breath and held it. Hesitantly, she pressed it to the skin, bracing for the impact.
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Dr Adjective
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Hand sanitiser. Evie hadn't even thought of that. She'd just gone and shoved her filthy hands right onto her ripped flesh without a second thought. In retrospect, that wasn't so bad, keeping the blood in at all was a higher priority than keeping it completely clean after all. But she'd trained in first aid, even if it had been a long time ago and it had been with a view to patching up pets, she should've thought of cleaning her hands as well as cleaning the wound itself. Stupid. She blamed the adrenaline spike and the panic that came with getting attacked with intent to kill, but she still should've known better. What was the fucking point of sterile gloves if you were gonna handle them with dirty hands? Stupid stupid stupid.
Good thing for her that Claire had thought of it, though. Fuck. The adrenaline was wearing off, and Evie's tunnel vision was fading. She had time to think of things other than safety and first aid. Things like how much pain she was in, mostly. But other stuff barged in too, things like hand soap and that look in Alex's eyes when she really should've known he was planning on attacking her. Hadn't she heard somewhere that that was bullshit, actually? That you couldn't just read a person's face and predict violence? No such thing as an "assassin's gaze"? She thought she'd heard that somewhere. One of those crime shows her mom liked? It felt good to take her mind off of the pain, give her something to dwell on that wasn't whatever it was Claire was up to at that moment. The injured girl had the sense that she'd said something, or more accurately that she'd muttered something, but it didn't really register. Then she was pouring water, and huh, that felt pretty nice in a weird way. Cold, really cold, but oddly pleasant. It felt like being clean. She'd probably feel different in a few minutes when it was just cold and damp.
Next came the painful bit. So where had Alex gone afterwards, anyway? File that away as something to ask Claire, she would've seen which way he went. Probably towards some other shelter. That's where Evie would go next, where she was starting to think would be a really idea for the two of them to go next themselves. Someplace warm, or at least sheltered from the wind and the snow. The sun coming up did a lot towards keeping the chill off, but it was still bitterly cold.
FUCK. Evie ground her teeth violently into the folded up strap in her mouth, scrunched her eyes closed, let out a pained grunt.
Wait. That was just dabbing away the last of the blood. Shit. That meant the really bad bit was still to come. Think about something else. Look away. Think about... shit. Her friends. They were all here too, or most of them. In the moment, she couldn't really be sure who had and hadn't been on the buses, who she wasn't expecting to see on the trip. Kelsey was coming, she remembered that. Was she safe? That didn't bear thinking about. Better just to assume she was. Who'd wanna hurt Kelsey? Same people who would've wanted to hurt Evie herself, duh. Forget that. Think about something other than your secret girlfriend getting hurt. Mitch and Steve. They'd been on the trip. Evie hoped they'd gotten to link up, they'd make a hell of a team. Beatrice, had she seen her? Evie hoped not. She was going through hell here already, how overwhelming must it be for a sweetheart like Beatrice?
Even before it registered as hurting, Evie's face was contorted again, teeth sinking into fabric like she was trying to tear chunks out of it.
Then it did register, and a full mouth couldn't fully muffle the scream that erupted from her throat.
Trying to dwell on something else didn't help. All there was was the sting, and the duel of her instinct to thrash violently at its source versus the rational instruction to stay still and let herself be healed. Neither truly won. She gripped deep into the sides of her coat, threw her head back, and stamped her feet futilely into the dirt below. Her torso must've moved some, but hopefully not much. But eventually, like all things, all those dreadful transitions from one state to another that Evie so often feared and avoided, it was over, the new state was a better one. A dull ache emanated from the back of Evie's head where she'd smacked it a bit too hard against the tree behind her, but that barely crossed her radar. She spat out her makeshift gag and released the deathgrip on her overcoat, and took another look at her wound. So much less bad than it had looked moments before. Then she looked back up to Claire.
Her mouth opened to speak. A low groan escaped, then heavy breathing. Very reassuring. She tried again.
"Good job."
Shit, was that patronising? It sounded patronising to her.
"Wasn't so bad after all, huh?"
By comparison, strapping a bandage over it all should be a walk in the murder-island woods. Not quite the park, but it could be a lot worse, really.
Good thing for her that Claire had thought of it, though. Fuck. The adrenaline was wearing off, and Evie's tunnel vision was fading. She had time to think of things other than safety and first aid. Things like how much pain she was in, mostly. But other stuff barged in too, things like hand soap and that look in Alex's eyes when she really should've known he was planning on attacking her. Hadn't she heard somewhere that that was bullshit, actually? That you couldn't just read a person's face and predict violence? No such thing as an "assassin's gaze"? She thought she'd heard that somewhere. One of those crime shows her mom liked? It felt good to take her mind off of the pain, give her something to dwell on that wasn't whatever it was Claire was up to at that moment. The injured girl had the sense that she'd said something, or more accurately that she'd muttered something, but it didn't really register. Then she was pouring water, and huh, that felt pretty nice in a weird way. Cold, really cold, but oddly pleasant. It felt like being clean. She'd probably feel different in a few minutes when it was just cold and damp.
Next came the painful bit. So where had Alex gone afterwards, anyway? File that away as something to ask Claire, she would've seen which way he went. Probably towards some other shelter. That's where Evie would go next, where she was starting to think would be a really idea for the two of them to go next themselves. Someplace warm, or at least sheltered from the wind and the snow. The sun coming up did a lot towards keeping the chill off, but it was still bitterly cold.
FUCK. Evie ground her teeth violently into the folded up strap in her mouth, scrunched her eyes closed, let out a pained grunt.
Wait. That was just dabbing away the last of the blood. Shit. That meant the really bad bit was still to come. Think about something else. Look away. Think about... shit. Her friends. They were all here too, or most of them. In the moment, she couldn't really be sure who had and hadn't been on the buses, who she wasn't expecting to see on the trip. Kelsey was coming, she remembered that. Was she safe? That didn't bear thinking about. Better just to assume she was. Who'd wanna hurt Kelsey? Same people who would've wanted to hurt Evie herself, duh. Forget that. Think about something other than your secret girlfriend getting hurt. Mitch and Steve. They'd been on the trip. Evie hoped they'd gotten to link up, they'd make a hell of a team. Beatrice, had she seen her? Evie hoped not. She was going through hell here already, how overwhelming must it be for a sweetheart like Beatrice?
Even before it registered as hurting, Evie's face was contorted again, teeth sinking into fabric like she was trying to tear chunks out of it.
Then it did register, and a full mouth couldn't fully muffle the scream that erupted from her throat.
Trying to dwell on something else didn't help. All there was was the sting, and the duel of her instinct to thrash violently at its source versus the rational instruction to stay still and let herself be healed. Neither truly won. She gripped deep into the sides of her coat, threw her head back, and stamped her feet futilely into the dirt below. Her torso must've moved some, but hopefully not much. But eventually, like all things, all those dreadful transitions from one state to another that Evie so often feared and avoided, it was over, the new state was a better one. A dull ache emanated from the back of Evie's head where she'd smacked it a bit too hard against the tree behind her, but that barely crossed her radar. She spat out her makeshift gag and released the deathgrip on her overcoat, and took another look at her wound. So much less bad than it had looked moments before. Then she looked back up to Claire.
Her mouth opened to speak. A low groan escaped, then heavy breathing. Very reassuring. She tried again.
"Good job."
Shit, was that patronising? It sounded patronising to her.
"Wasn't so bad after all, huh?"
By comparison, strapping a bandage over it all should be a walk in the murder-island woods. Not quite the park, but it could be a lot worse, really.
Claire winced at the screaming. She'd always found herself particularly susceptible to sympathy pain—just hearing or seeing someone else hurting was enough to make her nerves flare like pulsars. Throughout the years, her writing portfolio filled up with stories of violence—but that didn't mean she liked it in the real world.
"It's not over yet," she murmured, "but the worst is behind us now."
She wished that such a sentiment was more widely applicable. For this moment, it was true, but after that? It would be nothing more than dust in the wind. She threw the thought away. That kind of long-term worrying wasn't productive. Instead, her eyes—and mind—fixed on the sterile dressings.
"Alright, I'm gonna dress the wound now," she explained, "so hold your arm still."
Claire leaned in closer and then began the process. Her hands fiddled with the gauze as she wrapped it tight—once, twice, then again, until it was over. Everything said and done, a feeling of uncertainty lingered. This whole situation was different from anything she'd done before. It was more complicated than holding a cat while your mom gave it saline.
Still, it was over, at least for now. Later, the two would need to dress it again and hope that it didn't get infected—but that was a problem for the future. For now, this was as good as it'd get. And Claire hoped it was good enough. She just looked at Evie for a moment and frowned—there was no triumph, just a weight lifted from her shoulders.
"Now it's over," she said, a sense of finality in her voice.
"It's not over yet," she murmured, "but the worst is behind us now."
She wished that such a sentiment was more widely applicable. For this moment, it was true, but after that? It would be nothing more than dust in the wind. She threw the thought away. That kind of long-term worrying wasn't productive. Instead, her eyes—and mind—fixed on the sterile dressings.
"Alright, I'm gonna dress the wound now," she explained, "so hold your arm still."
Claire leaned in closer and then began the process. Her hands fiddled with the gauze as she wrapped it tight—once, twice, then again, until it was over. Everything said and done, a feeling of uncertainty lingered. This whole situation was different from anything she'd done before. It was more complicated than holding a cat while your mom gave it saline.
Still, it was over, at least for now. Later, the two would need to dress it again and hope that it didn't get infected—but that was a problem for the future. For now, this was as good as it'd get. And Claire hoped it was good enough. She just looked at Evie for a moment and frowned—there was no triumph, just a weight lifted from her shoulders.
"Now it's over," she said, a sense of finality in her voice.
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Dr Adjective
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- Location: UK
By comparison, the bandaging part was barely a discomfort. Evie wriggled a bit, bit back the occasional grunt of pain, but by and large it was no big thing. She’d needed bandaging up before: sure, it had never been because of a spear with murderous intent behind it, but it was still broadly familiar. By the time the dressing was coming down, the worst was already over. Once it was done, the wounded girl finally let her many layers of clothing fall back down and cover her by-then pale, goose-pimpled flesh, and her saviour declared it to be done without a hint of triumph to her voice. Just grim finality.
Because yeah. Evie’s mind drifted back to her prior thoughts. She surely wasn’t the only one to have been attacked already, she was probably among the lucky few that had who had actually survived. All in all she’d come away from her attempted murder pretty clean. She hoped her friends could say much the same. Was it selfish to think of them first, before the vague masses of acquaintances and whatstheirfaces that made up the rest of the senior year? Probably. But if history had taught her anything, it had taught Evie that people cared about their tribe first, outsiders a distant second. Selfish maybe, but normal.
“Thanks. So… what now?”
It was still bitterly cold, and Evie could certainly do with getting some warm blood moving. She’d sat on the frosty ground for more than long enough, so she carefully picked herself back up, careful to avoid flexing her abdomen any more than absolutely necessary.
“Should probably find some shelter, right?”
The research station wasn’t far, back the way they’d just come, but also Alex was presumably still there. Was she really in any hurry to see him again?
Because yeah. Evie’s mind drifted back to her prior thoughts. She surely wasn’t the only one to have been attacked already, she was probably among the lucky few that had who had actually survived. All in all she’d come away from her attempted murder pretty clean. She hoped her friends could say much the same. Was it selfish to think of them first, before the vague masses of acquaintances and whatstheirfaces that made up the rest of the senior year? Probably. But if history had taught her anything, it had taught Evie that people cared about their tribe first, outsiders a distant second. Selfish maybe, but normal.
“Thanks. So… what now?”
It was still bitterly cold, and Evie could certainly do with getting some warm blood moving. She’d sat on the frosty ground for more than long enough, so she carefully picked herself back up, careful to avoid flexing her abdomen any more than absolutely necessary.
“Should probably find some shelter, right?”
The research station wasn’t far, back the way they’d just come, but also Alex was presumably still there. Was she really in any hurry to see him again?
What now?
That was the question—it always was, honestly. Claire had asked it many times. For her, though, it always felt like the end of a tragedy. It always came when the train of life ran out of railroad tracks to drive you along, leaving you to pick up the parts that were left behind. It was the thought you had when you looked out at something ruined.
It was a question that didn't always have an answer. One that was easier to answer with more questions. But, at the moment, Claire felt she had an actual, concrete response. Something that struggled its way out of her larynx and into the air, something worth saying.
"We've got to try and make things better—make them right if we can." she said, eyes narrowed, rows of teeth pressed together, "I don't know how long I'll be alive—none of us do—but I don't want to just hide out in some building and wait for that to happen."
It was a resolution. Claire knew, though, that nothing good came of those. It was still the end of their lives at the end of the day. No amount of hopes, thoughts, or prayers to the contrary would change that. Life happened. Giveth and taketh away, though she'd always felt that the latter was the more likely occurrence.
"There are people on this island that I don't want to leave behind, and I'll be damned if I do." she said, thinking of names like Poppy and John, "And last, I don't want to let this game change me. I've spent my whole life wearing masks—no more. Not here. Not now."
There was one thing left unsaid, left in her skull, to bounce around like a screensaver:
"I'm going to die here—I know that. There's no such thing as a happy ending on this island. Still, I'll make every second count."
That was the question—it always was, honestly. Claire had asked it many times. For her, though, it always felt like the end of a tragedy. It always came when the train of life ran out of railroad tracks to drive you along, leaving you to pick up the parts that were left behind. It was the thought you had when you looked out at something ruined.
It was a question that didn't always have an answer. One that was easier to answer with more questions. But, at the moment, Claire felt she had an actual, concrete response. Something that struggled its way out of her larynx and into the air, something worth saying.
"We've got to try and make things better—make them right if we can." she said, eyes narrowed, rows of teeth pressed together, "I don't know how long I'll be alive—none of us do—but I don't want to just hide out in some building and wait for that to happen."
It was a resolution. Claire knew, though, that nothing good came of those. It was still the end of their lives at the end of the day. No amount of hopes, thoughts, or prayers to the contrary would change that. Life happened. Giveth and taketh away, though she'd always felt that the latter was the more likely occurrence.
"There are people on this island that I don't want to leave behind, and I'll be damned if I do." she said, thinking of names like Poppy and John, "And last, I don't want to let this game change me. I've spent my whole life wearing masks—no more. Not here. Not now."
There was one thing left unsaid, left in her skull, to bounce around like a screensaver:
"I'm going to die here—I know that. There's no such thing as a happy ending on this island. Still, I'll make every second count."
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Dr Adjective
- Posts: 435
- Joined: Mon Jul 06, 2020 8:25 pm
- Location: UK
Claire sure did have an answer. She seemed pretty firm about it, too. So it felt a bit awkward to question exactly what she meant by it. To be fair, she felt about the same with regard to wanting to see her friends again, and definitely see Kelsey again. The whole thing was being filmed too, right? Maybe she could send a message out to her family too?
Still, it wasn’t a direction though.
“Right,” Evie began, resisting the urge to feel her bandages.
“But where to? We can’t stay here, can we?”
What would she say to them, any of them, come to think of it? Hi Steve, sorry your YouTube channel never made it big? Hi Kelsey, thanks for making out with me, I’d ask if you wanna fuck before we die but we’re on camera so maybe not? Hi Mom and Dad, I’m already injured and going to die, love you, by the way I’m gay? Assuming they were still alive by the time she found them again. And then if she wanted out, they’d have to die.
Her face visibly sank as the reality of her situation hit her, now that she’d had a quiet moment to think on it. What was the point? She was going to die anyway. So were her friends.
It was hard to stay positive without a happy ending anywhere in sight. “Best” case scenario she lived because she killed all her friends.
“I mean,”
Evie’s eyes slowly closed, scrunched up in a way that spoke of holding back tears. After a few seconds she opened them again. Put on her brave face again. Not a hugely convincing one.
“I don’t wanna just… freeze to death out here, you know?”
Still, it wasn’t a direction though.
“Right,” Evie began, resisting the urge to feel her bandages.
“But where to? We can’t stay here, can we?”
What would she say to them, any of them, come to think of it? Hi Steve, sorry your YouTube channel never made it big? Hi Kelsey, thanks for making out with me, I’d ask if you wanna fuck before we die but we’re on camera so maybe not? Hi Mom and Dad, I’m already injured and going to die, love you, by the way I’m gay? Assuming they were still alive by the time she found them again. And then if she wanted out, they’d have to die.
Her face visibly sank as the reality of her situation hit her, now that she’d had a quiet moment to think on it. What was the point? She was going to die anyway. So were her friends.
It was hard to stay positive without a happy ending anywhere in sight. “Best” case scenario she lived because she killed all her friends.
“I mean,”
Evie’s eyes slowly closed, scrunched up in a way that spoke of holding back tears. After a few seconds she opened them again. Put on her brave face again. Not a hugely convincing one.
“I don’t wanna just… freeze to death out here, you know?”
Claire looked away again. Honestly, she wasn't sure she was brave enough to look Evie in the face and say that she didn't know. There was no answer to that. As far as she could tell, it was dangerous in every direction. They were on the road to Hell either way. In anticipation, demons lurked and watched with bated breaths.
"Yeah, uh, sorry," she responded, with a hint of embarrassment, "I'll check it over."
So she rifled around for the map and scanned it over. She knew how to read a map. Claire spent thousands of hours staring at maps of grand-strategy games and city planners. And, though no cartographer, she'd made maps in the past. This situation, being hunched over a picture of a place, wasn't altogether unfamiliar.
"Okay, so we've got some options." she explained, the bitter aftertaste of uncertainty lingering, "We could double back to the station and stay there or in one of the buildings nearby. There's also one around the southern tip of the island and a town in the east. We're somewhere, uh, southwest, I think."
If she was reading the map correctly, there was a road stretching in a circle around the closer mountain. If they reached it, they'd probably be able to navigate in either direction. But that depended on their current location, and Claire couldn't quite nail that down. The information available was too limited.
Even so, she tended to be vague and indecisive at the best of times. It was hard to decide what to do or where to go, even when the stakes were lower. Now, they were life or death. Almost unthinkingly, she bit at the nail of her middle finger, a rising anxiety in her chest.
"Um, so, what do you think?" she muttered. Though she did not say it, she wanted guidance more than opinion—not a choice to make, but a direction to follow. And, in her heart, she wondered if it'd be the right one.
"Yeah, uh, sorry," she responded, with a hint of embarrassment, "I'll check it over."
So she rifled around for the map and scanned it over. She knew how to read a map. Claire spent thousands of hours staring at maps of grand-strategy games and city planners. And, though no cartographer, she'd made maps in the past. This situation, being hunched over a picture of a place, wasn't altogether unfamiliar.
"Okay, so we've got some options." she explained, the bitter aftertaste of uncertainty lingering, "We could double back to the station and stay there or in one of the buildings nearby. There's also one around the southern tip of the island and a town in the east. We're somewhere, uh, southwest, I think."
If she was reading the map correctly, there was a road stretching in a circle around the closer mountain. If they reached it, they'd probably be able to navigate in either direction. But that depended on their current location, and Claire couldn't quite nail that down. The information available was too limited.
Even so, she tended to be vague and indecisive at the best of times. It was hard to decide what to do or where to go, even when the stakes were lower. Now, they were life or death. Almost unthinkingly, she bit at the nail of her middle finger, a rising anxiety in her chest.
"Um, so, what do you think?" she muttered. Though she did not say it, she wanted guidance more than opinion—not a choice to make, but a direction to follow. And, in her heart, she wondered if it'd be the right one.
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Dr Adjective
- Posts: 435
- Joined: Mon Jul 06, 2020 8:25 pm
- Location: UK
Evie huddled in, looking over the map as well. Cartography on this kind of scale wasn't her strong suit, it was far too local to move divisions around or build castles on. Still, she tried her best. First issue: she had no idea which direction she'd run from the Research Station. Judging by the forest, it must have been north or south, since they weren't up a mountain or in the sea, but maybe there was also woodland in between the station and those places too. Helpful.
Claire offered her options. None of them sounded appealing. Alex was probably still at the station, the camp to the south probably only had room for one group and was surely spoken for already, and the town was just really far away no matter the route. And then she asked Evie for her opinion rather than leaning any particular way herself. Maybe her reputation from back in the normal world played into that, or maybe Claire was just indecisive, maybe both. Either way, fuck, Evie didn't really want to be responsible for a life-or-death decision either.
"Well, I don't love the long walk to town, it'll probably be dark by the time we get there and then we'll have to find somewhere to stay without any sun. And I don't love the research station either, running onto a spear again seems like a bad move. And someone's probably already called dibs on the trapping camp. So... giant douche, turd sandwich, secret third option that's also sucky."
Evie bit her lower lip, furrowed her brow, generally signalling that she was having a big think.
"Might as well try the research station, that way we'll know exactly where we are on the map, and it's close by so if it's a non-starter at least we didn't waste much time there."
She fished about in her pockets for a moment, wincing as she nudged her injured side, before producing one of her two walkie-talkies and offering it to Claire.
"Might as well have comms, right? Knowing is half the battle and all that."
Claire offered her options. None of them sounded appealing. Alex was probably still at the station, the camp to the south probably only had room for one group and was surely spoken for already, and the town was just really far away no matter the route. And then she asked Evie for her opinion rather than leaning any particular way herself. Maybe her reputation from back in the normal world played into that, or maybe Claire was just indecisive, maybe both. Either way, fuck, Evie didn't really want to be responsible for a life-or-death decision either.
"Well, I don't love the long walk to town, it'll probably be dark by the time we get there and then we'll have to find somewhere to stay without any sun. And I don't love the research station either, running onto a spear again seems like a bad move. And someone's probably already called dibs on the trapping camp. So... giant douche, turd sandwich, secret third option that's also sucky."
Evie bit her lower lip, furrowed her brow, generally signalling that she was having a big think.
"Might as well try the research station, that way we'll know exactly where we are on the map, and it's close by so if it's a non-starter at least we didn't waste much time there."
She fished about in her pockets for a moment, wincing as she nudged her injured side, before producing one of her two walkie-talkies and offering it to Claire.
"Might as well have comms, right? Knowing is half the battle and all that."
Claire was surprised, honestly. She'd expected the decision to, ultimately, be foisted back upon her. That seemed to happen whenever she asked anyone what they wanted. It was a welcome change for someone to say what they wanted. Of course, this situation wasn't ideal, but at least there was minimal awkwardness.
"Alright, we can follow the, uh, the trail of blood back." she said, "It shouldn't be too hard to retrace our steps."
She didn't mind the idea of going back. Of course, Claire knew the adage, "a killer always returns to the scene of the crime," but she wasn't sure it would be applicable here. Alex played his hand, and he'd lost. He was probably somewhere else now, licking his wounds. She doubted they'd see him again.
Evie offered her one of the walkie-talkies, and Claire accepted the offer. If the two of them got separated, for whatever reason, they'd be able to reunite without needing to get lucky. Thinking about it, they'd made out like bandits at the item assignments. Utility draws were better than nothing.
Still, a weapon would've been helpful. Some of the people on the island were probably packing more firepower than a spear. That was a frightening prospect. And come nightfall, some would take the opportunity to hunt, she speculated. For now, it seemed like they should lay low.
Plus, they'd probably want to leave sooner rather than later. Who knew what dangers might be lurking in the forest? Claire didn't want to find out. So, she gathered all her things, then slung the bag over her shoulder. With a moment of hesitation, she stood.
"We should be able to get back before the sun goes down, I think." she noted, "If it gets too dark, I can lead you by the hand."
And then, she walked away, Evie in tow.
SO91: CLAIRE HAIG — CONTINUED IN "From Dusk..."
"Alright, we can follow the, uh, the trail of blood back." she said, "It shouldn't be too hard to retrace our steps."
She didn't mind the idea of going back. Of course, Claire knew the adage, "a killer always returns to the scene of the crime," but she wasn't sure it would be applicable here. Alex played his hand, and he'd lost. He was probably somewhere else now, licking his wounds. She doubted they'd see him again.
Evie offered her one of the walkie-talkies, and Claire accepted the offer. If the two of them got separated, for whatever reason, they'd be able to reunite without needing to get lucky. Thinking about it, they'd made out like bandits at the item assignments. Utility draws were better than nothing.
Still, a weapon would've been helpful. Some of the people on the island were probably packing more firepower than a spear. That was a frightening prospect. And come nightfall, some would take the opportunity to hunt, she speculated. For now, it seemed like they should lay low.
Plus, they'd probably want to leave sooner rather than later. Who knew what dangers might be lurking in the forest? Claire didn't want to find out. So, she gathered all her things, then slung the bag over her shoulder. With a moment of hesitation, she stood.
"We should be able to get back before the sun goes down, I think." she noted, "If it gets too dark, I can lead you by the hand."
And then, she walked away, Evie in tow.
SO91: CLAIRE HAIG — CONTINUED IN "From Dusk..."
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Dr Adjective
- Posts: 435
- Joined: Mon Jul 06, 2020 8:25 pm
- Location: UK
So it was decided then. That was easier than anticipated. More and more, Evie was realising that her anxiety towards big changes was consistently unfounded. She could just carry herself with the same confidence she did in comfortable normality and well, things seemed to turn out okay, didn’t they? Her family had been plenty happy to accommodate her new diet, the foundational skills she’d started learning for veterinary medicine hadn’t been so daunting, kissing Kelsey had been wonderful, and… well, leaving the rooftop had indeed gotten her stabbed. But it probably would’ve been worse if she’d tried to stay in that deeply uncomfortable comfort zone.
Silver lining, she’d left a trail of blood to help distinguish which set of footprints were hers. So that’d help in navigating back. The thought of the blood being her own was a bit less pleasant, serving mostly to foreground how it’d gotten there in Evie’s mind. She pictured Alex lying in wait to finish the job, worried what would happen to her then, or happen to Claire. No, no, she pushed those thoughts from her head. If he was still there, they’d be ready, with a numbers advantage and a wellspring of anger to draw on.
Oh. And Claire’s night vision goggles. If they could get some actual weapons between them, the duo would actually be pretty dangerous with that kind of utility at night. Any idiot could get in a fight, but coordination, intel, discipline? That was the edge that saw modern soldiers consistently beat insurgents, and more importantly, do so with minimal losses.
But did Evie want to be dangerous? She wanted to go home. Going home meant going through everyone else. She didn’t want to think about that.
So against her better judgement, she forced her brain into the other half of Claire’s statement. Holding hands might be pretty nice. In a comforting human connection way, obviously. Obviously. She still only had eyes for Kelsey. Obviously.
“Alright, let’s get underway.”
She had a long walk ahead of her to think about love and murder.
Fun.
[Evie McKown follows, not quite ’til Dawn.]
Silver lining, she’d left a trail of blood to help distinguish which set of footprints were hers. So that’d help in navigating back. The thought of the blood being her own was a bit less pleasant, serving mostly to foreground how it’d gotten there in Evie’s mind. She pictured Alex lying in wait to finish the job, worried what would happen to her then, or happen to Claire. No, no, she pushed those thoughts from her head. If he was still there, they’d be ready, with a numbers advantage and a wellspring of anger to draw on.
Oh. And Claire’s night vision goggles. If they could get some actual weapons between them, the duo would actually be pretty dangerous with that kind of utility at night. Any idiot could get in a fight, but coordination, intel, discipline? That was the edge that saw modern soldiers consistently beat insurgents, and more importantly, do so with minimal losses.
But did Evie want to be dangerous? She wanted to go home. Going home meant going through everyone else. She didn’t want to think about that.
So against her better judgement, she forced her brain into the other half of Claire’s statement. Holding hands might be pretty nice. In a comforting human connection way, obviously. Obviously. She still only had eyes for Kelsey. Obviously.
“Alright, let’s get underway.”
She had a long walk ahead of her to think about love and murder.
Fun.
[Evie McKown follows, not quite ’til Dawn.]