((Betty Quinn continued from These days of dishonourable peace))
Quinn did not fight against Colm’s pull as he had dragged her from the infirmary. She hadn’t really known what she was supposed to do there, and the boy had found it in himself to be more decisive than she could manage to be at that moment. Such hesitation could not be allowed to become a habit.
All while she Colm made their way towards the mountain and continued through the lower pass, Quinn had remained silent feeling foolish and not knowing exactly what to say to the boy who she now traveled with. She had not forgotten his active undermining of her approach to the confrontation at the infirmary, but her failure to act when they stepped outside left her deflated, unable to summon the same ire for his actions.
“Hey.” She finally spoke up when the pair came across a particularly nasty looking pothole, her voice more subdued as she continued to try to work things out in her head.
“It’d be wrong for me to keep this, sorry.” Quinn explained, coming to a halt and holding the strange axe out to its original owner.
“But I would really appreciate it if you gave me that rod you picked up. Please? Otherwise I don’t have much of anything.” The addition came with a slight relaxation in tone as Quinn started to consider if it might be better to avoid directly confronting whatever disagreement existed between them.
Colm wasn’t the real threat on the island, after all.
Percussion
pm for entry (for now)
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Catche Jagger
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Ruggahissy
- Posts: 2547
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Colm was an avid hobbyist of taking long hikes. Very long hikes. He would push himself to walk farther and farther each time, walking all day.
It was never his legs that were the problem -- they were strong and muscled. If anything was going to ask for rest first, it would be his heart.
He believed that he could go any distance, do anything, as long as his heart could take it.
As long as his heart could.
((Colm Forsyth continued from These Days of Dishonourable Peace))
They finally stopped going forward here at the lower mountain pass. A pothole lay in front of them, but could be avoided by going around. Nearby, the path was obvious but unkempt. Several large rocks sat nearby, good for sitting perhaps.
They had stopped moving forward but that hadn't meant Colm had stopped moving.
Oh my god are those people ok? That guy was insane. This is crazy. The fuck was all that with Quinn about? Is it getting colder? Jesus H Jesus, was that a fucking gun?
He paced back and forth in front of the pothole until Quinn's words broke through to him, causing him to stop.
Without saying anything, he took the axe hammer thing from Quinn and in its place, he jammed the curtain rod into her hands.
Looking down at the weapon he'd reclaimed, he noticed that by his fingers were smudges of dark red blood on the handle. Colm dropped the weapon into the snow with a gasp.
He slowly turned to look at Quinn for a moment, then he unzipped the bag on his shoulder and removed the blanket he'd taken from the infirmary. Colm turned to her and held up a finger -- a universal sign for "give me a moment" -- and then buried his face into the wad of blanket in his hands, letting out a deep half growl half scream.
He then slapped himself once, turned back around with a big smile and then draped the blanket over the girl who was his companion for the moment.
"OK. Can we have a wee chat?" he said in a cheerful fashion tingled with a steely edge.
It was never his legs that were the problem -- they were strong and muscled. If anything was going to ask for rest first, it would be his heart.
He believed that he could go any distance, do anything, as long as his heart could take it.
As long as his heart could.
((Colm Forsyth continued from These Days of Dishonourable Peace))
They finally stopped going forward here at the lower mountain pass. A pothole lay in front of them, but could be avoided by going around. Nearby, the path was obvious but unkempt. Several large rocks sat nearby, good for sitting perhaps.
They had stopped moving forward but that hadn't meant Colm had stopped moving.
Oh my god are those people ok? That guy was insane. This is crazy. The fuck was all that with Quinn about? Is it getting colder? Jesus H Jesus, was that a fucking gun?
He paced back and forth in front of the pothole until Quinn's words broke through to him, causing him to stop.
Without saying anything, he took the axe hammer thing from Quinn and in its place, he jammed the curtain rod into her hands.
Looking down at the weapon he'd reclaimed, he noticed that by his fingers were smudges of dark red blood on the handle. Colm dropped the weapon into the snow with a gasp.
He slowly turned to look at Quinn for a moment, then he unzipped the bag on his shoulder and removed the blanket he'd taken from the infirmary. Colm turned to her and held up a finger -- a universal sign for "give me a moment" -- and then buried his face into the wad of blanket in his hands, letting out a deep half growl half scream.
He then slapped himself once, turned back around with a big smile and then draped the blanket over the girl who was his companion for the moment.
"OK. Can we have a wee chat?" he said in a cheerful fashion tingled with a steely edge.
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Catche Jagger
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Taking the curtain rod into her hand, Quinn looked the object over carefully, feeling its weight. The rod was unlikely to be as useful as the weapon she’d surrendered back to Colm, but it was still a step up from a ouija board she’d been assigned to begin with. She’d make it work, somehow.
Her attention was soon pulled away, however, when Colm abruptly dropped his axe/hammer down onto the ground abruptly, almost seeming to recoil from the sight of it, and when Quinn’s eyes darted to meet the weapon, she saw why. Her gloves had left red smudges behind on the handle, remnants of her attack on Oakley.
Quinn grimaced, knowing that she should’ve accounted for such an obvious outcome, hissing quietly. She opened her mouth to speak, but Colm held up a finger and she closed it again, seeing that he needed a moment to process all of this.
It was hard not to feel some degree of pity for the poor boy. All of them were pitiful, in a way, but he had been thrust here and there not only by the terrorists, but now by a threatening gunman and a girl whose motives he almost certainly could not grasp without help.
When Colm finally prompted her to speak, Quinn gave a slow, sympathetic nod, before swallowing and leveling her eyes to meet his own.
“It’s alright.” She began, her voice steady and rehearsed. Quinn had known that some variation of this discussion would come sooner or later, though she had assumed it would come later. Without missing a beat, she continued.
“The blood is Oakley’s. I killed him. I don’t regret doing it, but I promise that I’m not going to do the same to you.” It was better to be honest in this situation. Colm had already seen the blood, just as he’d likely gotten a sense of how she had wanted to deal with the gunman at the infirmary. Trying to skirt around the facts here would only breed unnecessary suspicion.
“There are reasons for why, and I can explain them, but I completely understand if you’d prefer we go our separate ways.” Quinn attempted to give a reassuring smile, but found she was squeezing the curtain rod in her hands again as she did.
Her attention was soon pulled away, however, when Colm abruptly dropped his axe/hammer down onto the ground abruptly, almost seeming to recoil from the sight of it, and when Quinn’s eyes darted to meet the weapon, she saw why. Her gloves had left red smudges behind on the handle, remnants of her attack on Oakley.
Quinn grimaced, knowing that she should’ve accounted for such an obvious outcome, hissing quietly. She opened her mouth to speak, but Colm held up a finger and she closed it again, seeing that he needed a moment to process all of this.
It was hard not to feel some degree of pity for the poor boy. All of them were pitiful, in a way, but he had been thrust here and there not only by the terrorists, but now by a threatening gunman and a girl whose motives he almost certainly could not grasp without help.
When Colm finally prompted her to speak, Quinn gave a slow, sympathetic nod, before swallowing and leveling her eyes to meet his own.
“It’s alright.” She began, her voice steady and rehearsed. Quinn had known that some variation of this discussion would come sooner or later, though she had assumed it would come later. Without missing a beat, she continued.
“The blood is Oakley’s. I killed him. I don’t regret doing it, but I promise that I’m not going to do the same to you.” It was better to be honest in this situation. Colm had already seen the blood, just as he’d likely gotten a sense of how she had wanted to deal with the gunman at the infirmary. Trying to skirt around the facts here would only breed unnecessary suspicion.
“There are reasons for why, and I can explain them, but I completely understand if you’d prefer we go our separate ways.” Quinn attempted to give a reassuring smile, but found she was squeezing the curtain rod in her hands again as she did.
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Ruggahissy
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Colm picked the axe up and then sat down on one of the large rocks, now looking up at Quinn rather than the other way around.
"Oakley?"
He slowly picked up some snow off of the ground and rubbed it against the handle of the weapon where the blood was until it began to melt, dripped off the metal, and took the red stains with it to the ground.
"Girl, I'm not gonna lie and say we didn't all have those thoughts when talking to him but..."
She then reassured him that although she very much did recently kill a man, he was totally safe.
"Ah, grand. Thanks, killer queen. Appreciate it," he said, resisting the urge to ask her if she wanted to pinky promise.
Colm frankly didn't have any better idea of where to go or what to do and there was a part of him that was naturally curious, which wanted to hear exactly what she thought she was doing.
"The council of the frozen shit hole mountain recognises Betty Quinn. You 'ave the floor," he said cautiously, tracking her movements very carefully.
"Oakley?"
He slowly picked up some snow off of the ground and rubbed it against the handle of the weapon where the blood was until it began to melt, dripped off the metal, and took the red stains with it to the ground.
"Girl, I'm not gonna lie and say we didn't all have those thoughts when talking to him but..."
She then reassured him that although she very much did recently kill a man, he was totally safe.
"Ah, grand. Thanks, killer queen. Appreciate it," he said, resisting the urge to ask her if she wanted to pinky promise.
Colm frankly didn't have any better idea of where to go or what to do and there was a part of him that was naturally curious, which wanted to hear exactly what she thought she was doing.
"The council of the frozen shit hole mountain recognises Betty Quinn. You 'ave the floor," he said cautiously, tracking her movements very carefully.
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Catche Jagger
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Well, Colm took Quinn’s explanation of things better than she’d expected, even throwing out a few quips as he took a seemingly more relaxed, seated position. The girl felt some of the tension slipping away from her own body at that.
“Thank you.” She answered in a quiet voice, giving a slight nod and taking a breath, centering herself.
“I didn’t… want to kill Oakley. I didn’t trust him, nor did I particularly like him, and I think he earned such an attitude with how he chose to handle himself at school. But that doesn’t make his death a ‘good’ thing, nor does it make me a good person for having done it.” Quinn allowed the end of the preamble to sit for a moment, feeling somewhat uneasy, finding that the words may have turned over too many times in the back of her mind, only to come out too formal, too practiced. Nonetheless, she continued.
“This thing, this twisted game has played out six or seven times already, and every single time classmates turned on each other and at least most of those involved ended up dead. I’m not naive enough to think that won’t happen to our class too.
“There’s this idea—I do some reading on psychology, you know—where in high-stress or violent situations like a riot, people don’t just turn on each other, and not everyone that destroys things comes even wanting to do anything like that. People have different thresholds for where they’ll get pulled into the fervor. Very few are ready to go from the beginning, and by the same idea, very few can avoid being dragged down.” Laying the principle out in her own words left Quinn feeling somewhat out of her depth. She wasn’t an expert, but that didn’t stop the facts from being what they were.
“So when I spoke to Oakley, I had my suspicions, but I wanted to figure out where he was on that spectrum. The more we talked…” Her voice trailed off for a moment, not immediately sure of the words to use next, how best to describe the conclusion she’d come to.
“Oakley showed no signs of changing his ways. He danced around questions, congratulated his own intelligence, and made it clear he would do anything he thought would benefit himself. He would’ve killed people, escalated situations, dragged more people into being part of this ‘game.’”
Realizing how long she’d gone on, perhaps over-explaining in an attempt to appear professional. Quinn quickly cleared her throat, expression apologetic.
“There was one way to make sure he didn’t get the chance.”
“Thank you.” She answered in a quiet voice, giving a slight nod and taking a breath, centering herself.
“I didn’t… want to kill Oakley. I didn’t trust him, nor did I particularly like him, and I think he earned such an attitude with how he chose to handle himself at school. But that doesn’t make his death a ‘good’ thing, nor does it make me a good person for having done it.” Quinn allowed the end of the preamble to sit for a moment, feeling somewhat uneasy, finding that the words may have turned over too many times in the back of her mind, only to come out too formal, too practiced. Nonetheless, she continued.
“This thing, this twisted game has played out six or seven times already, and every single time classmates turned on each other and at least most of those involved ended up dead. I’m not naive enough to think that won’t happen to our class too.
“There’s this idea—I do some reading on psychology, you know—where in high-stress or violent situations like a riot, people don’t just turn on each other, and not everyone that destroys things comes even wanting to do anything like that. People have different thresholds for where they’ll get pulled into the fervor. Very few are ready to go from the beginning, and by the same idea, very few can avoid being dragged down.” Laying the principle out in her own words left Quinn feeling somewhat out of her depth. She wasn’t an expert, but that didn’t stop the facts from being what they were.
“So when I spoke to Oakley, I had my suspicions, but I wanted to figure out where he was on that spectrum. The more we talked…” Her voice trailed off for a moment, not immediately sure of the words to use next, how best to describe the conclusion she’d come to.
“Oakley showed no signs of changing his ways. He danced around questions, congratulated his own intelligence, and made it clear he would do anything he thought would benefit himself. He would’ve killed people, escalated situations, dragged more people into being part of this ‘game.’”
Realizing how long she’d gone on, perhaps over-explaining in an attempt to appear professional. Quinn quickly cleared her throat, expression apologetic.
“There was one way to make sure he didn’t get the chance.”
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Ruggahissy
- Posts: 2547
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Colm's mouth was set in a thin line and he tracked her with his eyes. His hand was under his chin with his index finger over his mouth as he thought.
Did she sneak up on Oakley? There was blood on her hands in the very literal senses, so it was a violent end. What if she killed him as they had been talking, just like the two of them were now?
She confirmed that yes, Oakley sucked, but sucking alone does not make one worthy of a death sentence, or there would have been much fewer people around generally.
Then Quinn swerved so hard he could almost feel the force knock him to the side of the figurative car she was driving them both in. Colm looked worried. He raised his eyebrows as she continued.
“These violent delights have violent ends,” he said gravely. It was meant as an offering to Quinn, given her background.
His initial inclination was to help her feel less nervous. By nature, he wanted to be supportive of this girl in a knit hat with an apologetic look on her face. The tone of her voice tugged at his conscience.
But this was not a typical situation, and he was not a person that made decisions on impulse or by feeling. He needed more information.
“You… propose that here -- like in a riot -- people are hesitant to engage at first, but that some do. And as time passes, more and more will, until the circumstance has engulfed almost everyone. But if you stop those first few… the circumstances take a longer time to march towards their inevitable consumption of us all?” he said out loud, verifying that he understood her point.
“You’re trying to stop us from breaking the murder seal, so to speak, or at least stem the murder flow. The murder tide. Oakley indicated -- to YOU --“ he said, making clear that this was her opinion “-- that he would be one of those to help uncork the murder energy. So you killed him. And you wanted to lure DeMarcus to us to kill him too, for the same reason. ‘Cause you decided based on your assessments that he’s likely to murder. Which will lead to more people flipping to murder and snowballing?”
Colm bent down and started collecting snow in his hands, packing it together as a ball, looking down at his fiddling rather than at her again.
“How did you kill him?” Colm’s question came in a deliberately gentler voice.
Did she sneak up on Oakley? There was blood on her hands in the very literal senses, so it was a violent end. What if she killed him as they had been talking, just like the two of them were now?
She confirmed that yes, Oakley sucked, but sucking alone does not make one worthy of a death sentence, or there would have been much fewer people around generally.
Then Quinn swerved so hard he could almost feel the force knock him to the side of the figurative car she was driving them both in. Colm looked worried. He raised his eyebrows as she continued.
“These violent delights have violent ends,” he said gravely. It was meant as an offering to Quinn, given her background.
His initial inclination was to help her feel less nervous. By nature, he wanted to be supportive of this girl in a knit hat with an apologetic look on her face. The tone of her voice tugged at his conscience.
But this was not a typical situation, and he was not a person that made decisions on impulse or by feeling. He needed more information.
“You… propose that here -- like in a riot -- people are hesitant to engage at first, but that some do. And as time passes, more and more will, until the circumstance has engulfed almost everyone. But if you stop those first few… the circumstances take a longer time to march towards their inevitable consumption of us all?” he said out loud, verifying that he understood her point.
“You’re trying to stop us from breaking the murder seal, so to speak, or at least stem the murder flow. The murder tide. Oakley indicated -- to YOU --“ he said, making clear that this was her opinion “-- that he would be one of those to help uncork the murder energy. So you killed him. And you wanted to lure DeMarcus to us to kill him too, for the same reason. ‘Cause you decided based on your assessments that he’s likely to murder. Which will lead to more people flipping to murder and snowballing?”
Colm bent down and started collecting snow in his hands, packing it together as a ball, looking down at his fiddling rather than at her again.
“How did you kill him?” Colm’s question came in a deliberately gentler voice.
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Catche Jagger
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Colm had a lot of questions, but that was understandable. Quinn owed him answers, and he was still being rather more considerate of her feelings that she might have expected, making a light theatrical reference, which she assumed was for her benefit. Unsure whether she was entirely comfortable with making light of such a matter, though the gesture was appreciated, she simply gave the boy a polite smile before explaining things further.
“It is specifically stemming the tide. Again, I’ve approached this with as rational a mind as I can, and I know it’s impossible for one person to go around and prevent every possible death. All I can do is harm reduction. As for what is or isn’t inevitable… well we can get to that.” The clarification felt important. Colm needed to understand that, in spite of what misgivings he might have, Quinn had thought this through.
She was a bit caught off-guard, though, when Colm noted that their mystery gunman at the infirmary had been DeMarcus Miller, and the surprise showed on her face. Perhaps he’d gotten a better look while they were fleeing that scene? Regardless, that reveal only strengthened Betty’s original assumption. Take a boy with a volatile attitude and antisocial traits, then give him a gun and tell him to kill somebody. Couldn’t have turned out better for their captors.
“Yes, I did want to stop DeMarcus. I was probably going to kill him. We can discuss that too, if you’d like. But first…” Quinn’s voice trailed off before she gave a slow nod to Colm.
“While Oakley and I were talking, He wasn’t looking at me, just watching the sunrise instead. So, after he made it clear that he’d be out for himself, and that he was treating this whole thing like a fun little game, I came up behind and attacked him with a rock. Hit him in the head a couple of times, to be sure.” With that last admission, she found it difficult to maintain her consistent eye contact with Colm, and instead began to rifle through her bag.
“Oh um, I should probably give you one of these. If the game goes on longer than expected, like I hope it does, we’ll all want extras.” With that, Betty produced a pair of energy bars and a water bottle from her bag, holding them out for Colm.
“These ones were mine originally.” She made sure to add after a moment, no smile present on her face in spite of it being an attempt at reassurance.
“It is specifically stemming the tide. Again, I’ve approached this with as rational a mind as I can, and I know it’s impossible for one person to go around and prevent every possible death. All I can do is harm reduction. As for what is or isn’t inevitable… well we can get to that.” The clarification felt important. Colm needed to understand that, in spite of what misgivings he might have, Quinn had thought this through.
She was a bit caught off-guard, though, when Colm noted that their mystery gunman at the infirmary had been DeMarcus Miller, and the surprise showed on her face. Perhaps he’d gotten a better look while they were fleeing that scene? Regardless, that reveal only strengthened Betty’s original assumption. Take a boy with a volatile attitude and antisocial traits, then give him a gun and tell him to kill somebody. Couldn’t have turned out better for their captors.
“Yes, I did want to stop DeMarcus. I was probably going to kill him. We can discuss that too, if you’d like. But first…” Quinn’s voice trailed off before she gave a slow nod to Colm.
“While Oakley and I were talking, He wasn’t looking at me, just watching the sunrise instead. So, after he made it clear that he’d be out for himself, and that he was treating this whole thing like a fun little game, I came up behind and attacked him with a rock. Hit him in the head a couple of times, to be sure.” With that last admission, she found it difficult to maintain her consistent eye contact with Colm, and instead began to rifle through her bag.
“Oh um, I should probably give you one of these. If the game goes on longer than expected, like I hope it does, we’ll all want extras.” With that, Betty produced a pair of energy bars and a water bottle from her bag, holding them out for Colm.
“These ones were mine originally.” She made sure to add after a moment, no smile present on her face in spite of it being an attempt at reassurance.
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Ruggahissy
- Posts: 2547
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“Harm reduction,” he repeated after her, looking up from his work of making a snowball. He looked despondent and sounded it, too.
Colm recoiled from the food bars like a dog being presented a suspicious object.
He never thought of himself as dumb. In fact, he thought himself pretty perceptive. He got good grades, he picked up new skills pretty quickly, but perhaps that was more because he liked learning new things and didn’t give up easily.
But in this conversation he felt like he’d turned up for a debate class unprepared.
He was, however, smart enough to realize that the unspoken implication behind the offer of the food was that Quinn now had a surplus. She could afford to offer him the food because she had a dead boy’s supplies.
“I’m not hungry,” he stated plainly, but quietly. Smart money was to take the food, but it made him uncomfortable. With a flick of his wrist, he threw the snowball at her.
His eyebrows knit together in worry and he bit the end of his thumb. She was giving very Minority Report realness.
“How do you decide?” he mumbled around the digit.
Colm recoiled from the food bars like a dog being presented a suspicious object.
He never thought of himself as dumb. In fact, he thought himself pretty perceptive. He got good grades, he picked up new skills pretty quickly, but perhaps that was more because he liked learning new things and didn’t give up easily.
But in this conversation he felt like he’d turned up for a debate class unprepared.
He was, however, smart enough to realize that the unspoken implication behind the offer of the food was that Quinn now had a surplus. She could afford to offer him the food because she had a dead boy’s supplies.
“I’m not hungry,” he stated plainly, but quietly. Smart money was to take the food, but it made him uncomfortable. With a flick of his wrist, he threw the snowball at her.
His eyebrows knit together in worry and he bit the end of his thumb. She was giving very Minority Report realness.
“How do you decide?” he mumbled around the digit.
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Catche Jagger
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When Colm recoiled from her, Quinn knew what he felt without saying it. To him, the food was tainted by blood, not something he was willing to take, which should’ve been anticipated. The boy didn’t have the stomach for what she was offering.
Hands returning to her sides, Betty noticed the snowball he was making and quickly sidestepped when he threw it, grimacing as it flew past. She couldn’t tell entirely what he meant by it, but in conjunction with him turning away the food, it felt like a total rejection of her explanations.
“You know there’s no one answer for that. It depends on the person.” The words tasted more sour on her tongue than she would’ve liked and she paused for a moment to collect herself while she returned the water and bars to her bag.
“These are our classmates, we know who they are. DeMarcus was already abrasive and caused problems at school, out here he gets given power and within a few hours he’s threatening everyone he meets.” Quinn made sure to speak slowly, careful in her choice of words.
“There’s no police out here, no therapists, no social workers, or any of that. Unless we do what we can, the situation will keep getting worse. It’s probably designed to keep getting worse.” She let that statement hang, before slowly nodding to herself.
“And I’m not running around paranoid about every little thing. I’m still trusting you after you went against me with DeMarcus, because that still shows that you haven’t given in, even if I think the choice was wrong.” The edge of bitterness returned to her voice, and a sad sort of smile formed at her lips.
“But maybe I should go. I get the feeling that you don’t feel safe.”
Hands returning to her sides, Betty noticed the snowball he was making and quickly sidestepped when he threw it, grimacing as it flew past. She couldn’t tell entirely what he meant by it, but in conjunction with him turning away the food, it felt like a total rejection of her explanations.
“You know there’s no one answer for that. It depends on the person.” The words tasted more sour on her tongue than she would’ve liked and she paused for a moment to collect herself while she returned the water and bars to her bag.
“These are our classmates, we know who they are. DeMarcus was already abrasive and caused problems at school, out here he gets given power and within a few hours he’s threatening everyone he meets.” Quinn made sure to speak slowly, careful in her choice of words.
“There’s no police out here, no therapists, no social workers, or any of that. Unless we do what we can, the situation will keep getting worse. It’s probably designed to keep getting worse.” She let that statement hang, before slowly nodding to herself.
“And I’m not running around paranoid about every little thing. I’m still trusting you after you went against me with DeMarcus, because that still shows that you haven’t given in, even if I think the choice was wrong.” The edge of bitterness returned to her voice, and a sad sort of smile formed at her lips.
“But maybe I should go. I get the feeling that you don’t feel safe.”
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Ruggahissy
- Posts: 2547
- Joined: Mon Aug 13, 2018 4:13 pm
The snowball flew past her and landed on the ground with a soft puff. The ball crumbled and slouched, returning to its original form.
Colm bent over again and dug his fingers deeper into the snow this time. His fingers moved, stopped for a moment, felt around, then picked up a very large handful of snow. He started packing it down, making another ball, pushing his fingers into the middle. His weapon still lay in front of him where he sat.
"Didn't say you were paranoid. Disappointed to hear there's no cops, though. That was gonna be my first stop. Second stop was gonna be Tasty Burger, but I guess you're gonna tell me there's none of those either?"
As much as he was predisposed to continue sassing Quinn, he could feel that she was annoyed by it and knew he was reaching her acceptable limit.
"I've got one more question."
He continued rolling the larger snowball in his hands.
"What's your plan for when people come for you? People will know you're killing, that you killed Oakley, and sooner or later -- probably sooner -- someone's gonna come. They may not give you the chance to lay out your thesis. And it isn't like you've got a machine gun. Maybe someone you decide has to be 'removed' has friends. And once people know, it'll be harder to kill someone -- they'll be on guard. So what then, darling ?"
Despite the things that bothered him about her -- she was too deliberate with her words, she was somewhat condescending -- there was something that he liked. And she wasn't attacking him, which was another thing to like about her. But the rub was that as much as he liked her, he didn't trust her.
Colm chewed a bit on his lower lip and kept the ball in hand, looking at her.
Colm bent over again and dug his fingers deeper into the snow this time. His fingers moved, stopped for a moment, felt around, then picked up a very large handful of snow. He started packing it down, making another ball, pushing his fingers into the middle. His weapon still lay in front of him where he sat.
"Didn't say you were paranoid. Disappointed to hear there's no cops, though. That was gonna be my first stop. Second stop was gonna be Tasty Burger, but I guess you're gonna tell me there's none of those either?"
As much as he was predisposed to continue sassing Quinn, he could feel that she was annoyed by it and knew he was reaching her acceptable limit.
"I've got one more question."
He continued rolling the larger snowball in his hands.
"What's your plan for when people come for you? People will know you're killing, that you killed Oakley, and sooner or later -- probably sooner -- someone's gonna come. They may not give you the chance to lay out your thesis. And it isn't like you've got a machine gun. Maybe someone you decide has to be 'removed' has friends. And once people know, it'll be harder to kill someone -- they'll be on guard. So what then, darling ?"
Despite the things that bothered him about her -- she was too deliberate with her words, she was somewhat condescending -- there was something that he liked. And she wasn't attacking him, which was another thing to like about her. But the rub was that as much as he liked her, he didn't trust her.
Colm chewed a bit on his lower lip and kept the ball in hand, looking at her.
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Catche Jagger
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- Joined: Thu May 23, 2019 12:39 am
Quinn didn’t answer Colm for some time. It wasn’t because she hadn’t thought of the question herself, because she had, but rather it seemed the most appropriate response to his continued jokes in the midst of her explanations. So, she flashed him a small, outwardly polite smile, waited in order to give the impression that she was giving his question some thought, before reply.
“People will only know that I killed Oakley, and unlike you they will not know the circumstance or the reason. For them, I might have killed him out of self-defense, or even out of mercy after he suffered an awful wound or something.” Even presenting the hypotheticals seemed like an insult to Oakley, and Quinn found herself that such treatment was perhaps less than he deserved, now that he was dead. However, they were important in illustrating her point.
“So, if someone does come after me blindly, determined to get revenge without hearing a single word, they are not doing it because I killed Oakley. They’re doing it because they have an excuse.” Again, a cruel fact of their reality, and one she was certain Colm would not take kindly to. However, he had already developed his picture of her, if the new snowball he was making was anything to go off of.
Then again, she perhaps needed to remind herself that this was a valid way for someone to try to process this situation. Gallows humor of a rather literal sense. She relaxed her posture and allowed her expression to soften, if just for a moment.
“I’m sorry if it seems like I’m taking myself too seriously or being a bit short. It’s hard to just joke about it and not feel like I’m belittling the weight of… lives?” She wasn’t sure how to put it. She was referencing not just Oakley, but DeMarcus as well as others who she had not encountered yet but would undoubtedly fall into the same category.
“Guess it means I’ll be a little dull now. At least in conversation.”
“People will only know that I killed Oakley, and unlike you they will not know the circumstance or the reason. For them, I might have killed him out of self-defense, or even out of mercy after he suffered an awful wound or something.” Even presenting the hypotheticals seemed like an insult to Oakley, and Quinn found herself that such treatment was perhaps less than he deserved, now that he was dead. However, they were important in illustrating her point.
“So, if someone does come after me blindly, determined to get revenge without hearing a single word, they are not doing it because I killed Oakley. They’re doing it because they have an excuse.” Again, a cruel fact of their reality, and one she was certain Colm would not take kindly to. However, he had already developed his picture of her, if the new snowball he was making was anything to go off of.
Then again, she perhaps needed to remind herself that this was a valid way for someone to try to process this situation. Gallows humor of a rather literal sense. She relaxed her posture and allowed her expression to soften, if just for a moment.
“I’m sorry if it seems like I’m taking myself too seriously or being a bit short. It’s hard to just joke about it and not feel like I’m belittling the weight of… lives?” She wasn’t sure how to put it. She was referencing not just Oakley, but DeMarcus as well as others who she had not encountered yet but would undoubtedly fall into the same category.
“Guess it means I’ll be a little dull now. At least in conversation.”
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Ruggahissy
- Posts: 2547
- Joined: Mon Aug 13, 2018 4:13 pm
Colm sighed deeply, looking and feeling very tired.
Quinn had dodged his question, that of what would happen when she started taking more people out and people would come, instead opting to focus on just Oakley. No shit no one was coming because of him. And anyone coming for her based on that one kill without explanation would certainly be out here trying to play cowboy, like she said.
But that wasn’t his question. And he didn’t have it in him to ask again right now.
He stared at her, very seriously debating what to do.
Leave now and let her deal with her own stuff. Not your problem, don’t have to get involved.
If she would let him leave, that is.
He shook his head. That was a ridiculous thought. He could pick her up and throw her like a lawn dart. Of course he could leave.
Or he could stay for now. It inevitably wouldn’t be for forever, but for now.
“It's fine. You don’t need to be chuckles. And I can turn it off,” he responded.
He decided to stay, but had a feeling that it wouldn’t bring anything other than frustration, difficulty, and emotions. He disliked the last above the other two. Whether it was for himself, for her, or for their classmates at large, he wasn’t quite certain. Maybe it was a sense of responsibility, at least to the last two parties.
“Whit’s fur ye’ll no go past ye,” he said in a bit of an exaggerated accent, and threw his snowball past her to a tree a few feet away.
The ball hit the bark of the tree with a loud smack. The ball bounced back and landed in the snow. The powder crumbled off, revealing a rock in the centre.
He stood up, packed up the blanket that had fallen to the ground, and picked up his axe.
“I can make us a shelter or we can find a structure at night fall,” he said warily, like someone in desperate need of a cup of coffee.
Quinn had dodged his question, that of what would happen when she started taking more people out and people would come, instead opting to focus on just Oakley. No shit no one was coming because of him. And anyone coming for her based on that one kill without explanation would certainly be out here trying to play cowboy, like she said.
But that wasn’t his question. And he didn’t have it in him to ask again right now.
He stared at her, very seriously debating what to do.
Leave now and let her deal with her own stuff. Not your problem, don’t have to get involved.
If she would let him leave, that is.
He shook his head. That was a ridiculous thought. He could pick her up and throw her like a lawn dart. Of course he could leave.
Or he could stay for now. It inevitably wouldn’t be for forever, but for now.
“It's fine. You don’t need to be chuckles. And I can turn it off,” he responded.
He decided to stay, but had a feeling that it wouldn’t bring anything other than frustration, difficulty, and emotions. He disliked the last above the other two. Whether it was for himself, for her, or for their classmates at large, he wasn’t quite certain. Maybe it was a sense of responsibility, at least to the last two parties.
“Whit’s fur ye’ll no go past ye,” he said in a bit of an exaggerated accent, and threw his snowball past her to a tree a few feet away.
The ball hit the bark of the tree with a loud smack. The ball bounced back and landed in the snow. The powder crumbled off, revealing a rock in the centre.
He stood up, packed up the blanket that had fallen to the ground, and picked up his axe.
“I can make us a shelter or we can find a structure at night fall,” he said warily, like someone in desperate need of a cup of coffee.
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Catche Jagger
- Posts: 345
- Joined: Thu May 23, 2019 12:39 am
Colm hadn’t aimed his second snowball at Quinn, which was a welcome shift, and she might’ve allowed herself a bit more leeway to relax with him if it hadn’t been for the rather stiff manner in which said snowball connected with a nearby tree. Of course, as the ball landed on the ground, the rock at its center became far more visible.
Betty wasn’t sure how best to take the gesture, but she found she was gripping the rod in her hands a bit too tightly. It seemed like a straightforward threat, but she wasn’t sure what Colm was trying to ward off with it. Though he was clearly skeptical, he’d taken no active opposition to her plan.
Perhaps, then, he was worried about what she might do to him, which would be rather foolish on his part. Nothing Colm had said here sat with her as poorly as him undermining her back at the infirmary. If she had ever wanted to kill him, she would’ve done so while he had been examining the pothole. Then she had hold of the better weapon, and hadn’t told him about Oakley’s death. A continued concern over what Quinn might do to him seemed rather paranoid on his part, so long as he did not try to forcibly stop her
But it was important to remember that not everyone was approaching things with the same speed she was, and not everyone would be willing to accept the price tag which came with extra time.
“Well, perhaps it would be best to build our shelter, so that we don’t need to worry about anyone else?” Quinn offered, assuming he would prefer such a situation, as it would allow them to dodge any potential discrepancy in their approach.
Also, Quinn had to admit, she was tired of feeling like she was running all over the place.
“But I’d like to help if I can.” She added with a small smile, noticing the tired sigh in his voice
Quinn awoke the next morning to the sound of Danya’s voice as he listed off all of the previous day’s victims and their killers. She was of course among the killers, as were a few who she would’ve sought to deal with herself, had they happened to cross paths, though others proved to be surprises.
However, the biggest surprise came in the form of her apparently being awarded for doing a particularly stand out job in killing Oakley.
That framing made her skin crawl, reminding her of the morbid delight their captors seemed to take in this whole affair. Still, if there was some reward waiting for her that might help her to pursue her agenda on this island, didn’t she have a duty to go there?
“I… suppose I should go then.” Quinn spoke with a quiet voice as she rose to a seated position, curling up a bit as she stared into her lap.
Betty wasn’t sure how best to take the gesture, but she found she was gripping the rod in her hands a bit too tightly. It seemed like a straightforward threat, but she wasn’t sure what Colm was trying to ward off with it. Though he was clearly skeptical, he’d taken no active opposition to her plan.
Perhaps, then, he was worried about what she might do to him, which would be rather foolish on his part. Nothing Colm had said here sat with her as poorly as him undermining her back at the infirmary. If she had ever wanted to kill him, she would’ve done so while he had been examining the pothole. Then she had hold of the better weapon, and hadn’t told him about Oakley’s death. A continued concern over what Quinn might do to him seemed rather paranoid on his part, so long as he did not try to forcibly stop her
But it was important to remember that not everyone was approaching things with the same speed she was, and not everyone would be willing to accept the price tag which came with extra time.
“Well, perhaps it would be best to build our shelter, so that we don’t need to worry about anyone else?” Quinn offered, assuming he would prefer such a situation, as it would allow them to dodge any potential discrepancy in their approach.
Also, Quinn had to admit, she was tired of feeling like she was running all over the place.
“But I’d like to help if I can.” She added with a small smile, noticing the tired sigh in his voice
Quinn awoke the next morning to the sound of Danya’s voice as he listed off all of the previous day’s victims and their killers. She was of course among the killers, as were a few who she would’ve sought to deal with herself, had they happened to cross paths, though others proved to be surprises.
However, the biggest surprise came in the form of her apparently being awarded for doing a particularly stand out job in killing Oakley.
That framing made her skin crawl, reminding her of the morbid delight their captors seemed to take in this whole affair. Still, if there was some reward waiting for her that might help her to pursue her agenda on this island, didn’t she have a duty to go there?
“I… suppose I should go then.” Quinn spoke with a quiet voice as she rose to a seated position, curling up a bit as she stared into her lap.
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Ruggahissy
- Posts: 2547
- Joined: Mon Aug 13, 2018 4:13 pm
The axe proved useful.
Colm managed to cut and scavenge enough wood nearby to make a small triangle shape against the mountain. The mountain managed to block the wind from them. The interior had been cleared of snow and rocks and there wasn't as much in the way of natural debris to insulate the ground, but he placed down the emergency blankets from inside their first aid kits to protect from sleeping directly on the earth.
Over the top, he laid branches he'd cut down that seemed to have the most foliage on them. When finished, it just looked like a tiny, roughly protruding shape. But it was enough.
They had the blanket he'd taken from the place he'd woken up in. It would have been nicer to have a bed, would but probably risk seeing more people.
He eventually fell asleep from sheer exhaustion. It was impossible to fall asleep before that point.
The structure was just big enough to accommodate both humans and between them, the wall of Jericho, the axe and the curtain rod.
Colm woke up in the morning surprised initially by the circumstances, then dismayed, then surprised he'd not been killed in the night, then just slightly satisfied that he wasn't that cold. The shelter was good and their body heat made it livable.
"Wow. Waking up next to a pretty girl. Dad'd be so proud," he said, thick with sarcasm. His dad probably wouldn't have even cared that she was a murderer.
Moments later, the announcements began, waking his companion. It confirmed her story and held another interesting development within. Colm waited until the noise stopped completely.
"Well, pin a rose on your nose. I s'pose you should," he said, scooting out of their temporary home.
Colm began packing the campsite and looked at her finally.
"I'll.... get you as close as I can."
He had made his decision for now so there was no use in grousing about it. Make your choices and then stand by them.
"And I'll see you after. Um, you OK?"
Colm managed to cut and scavenge enough wood nearby to make a small triangle shape against the mountain. The mountain managed to block the wind from them. The interior had been cleared of snow and rocks and there wasn't as much in the way of natural debris to insulate the ground, but he placed down the emergency blankets from inside their first aid kits to protect from sleeping directly on the earth.
Over the top, he laid branches he'd cut down that seemed to have the most foliage on them. When finished, it just looked like a tiny, roughly protruding shape. But it was enough.
They had the blanket he'd taken from the place he'd woken up in. It would have been nicer to have a bed, would but probably risk seeing more people.
He eventually fell asleep from sheer exhaustion. It was impossible to fall asleep before that point.
The structure was just big enough to accommodate both humans and between them, the wall of Jericho, the axe and the curtain rod.
Colm woke up in the morning surprised initially by the circumstances, then dismayed, then surprised he'd not been killed in the night, then just slightly satisfied that he wasn't that cold. The shelter was good and their body heat made it livable.
"Wow. Waking up next to a pretty girl. Dad'd be so proud," he said, thick with sarcasm. His dad probably wouldn't have even cared that she was a murderer.
Moments later, the announcements began, waking his companion. It confirmed her story and held another interesting development within. Colm waited until the noise stopped completely.
"Well, pin a rose on your nose. I s'pose you should," he said, scooting out of their temporary home.
Colm began packing the campsite and looked at her finally.
"I'll.... get you as close as I can."
He had made his decision for now so there was no use in grousing about it. Make your choices and then stand by them.
"And I'll see you after. Um, you OK?"
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Catche Jagger
- Posts: 345
- Joined: Thu May 23, 2019 12:39 am
As Colm scooted out of their shelter, Quinn still did not move, nor did she look up to meet his gaze. The sense of disgust that had settled at her core would not abate as she attempted to focus on what she would need to do next. The praise, the reward felt like an insult, a slap in the face to what she’d done, what she meant to do.
Distress danced across her face.
She had a duty to go, but if she went to do this, would there not be some sense that she was beholden to them? Or perhaps that urge was coming from a place of weakness, pettiness, a desire to consider herself morally separate from the tools of those that held them here.
“I’m fine.” Betty’s voice remained quiet as she slowly started to get up, adjusting her clothes when she finally rose to her feet, wanting to focus on something else.
Practicality was what mattered now, not endless navel-gazing.
“And… thank you. You don’t need to do all this, particularly considering what I’ve done” Quinn made sure to add, finally turning to look at Colm, trying to return to a more placid expression.
Distress danced across her face.
She had a duty to go, but if she went to do this, would there not be some sense that she was beholden to them? Or perhaps that urge was coming from a place of weakness, pettiness, a desire to consider herself morally separate from the tools of those that held them here.
“I’m fine.” Betty’s voice remained quiet as she slowly started to get up, adjusting her clothes when she finally rose to her feet, wanting to focus on something else.
Practicality was what mattered now, not endless navel-gazing.
“And… thank you. You don’t need to do all this, particularly considering what I’ve done” Quinn made sure to add, finally turning to look at Colm, trying to return to a more placid expression.