The dead speak!
Quentin jumped back in a panic. Somehow, the girl returned from being shot. He could have sworn she was dead, but she just started talking, started lying about all sorts of shit in front of Prii. Quentin barely had time to think about it before a new sound pierced the air. A horrible scream, rising from the ground itself. Quentin backed away, head jerking from side to side until he saw it; a coffin rattling violently, its inhabitant trying to break out to rejoin the living.
When there's no more room in Hell, the dead will walk the Earth. You couldn't perform this sort of atrocity eight different times before the universe returned in kind. The dead returning to wreak revenge upon the living, to slaughter them for letting this happen. But Quentin didn't do shit! He was only a baby when this started!
He cocked and fired off a shot in the direction of the coffin, then spun back to the girl and loner and shot again. He turned and started running cocking the revolver just in case, but as he hit a patch of ice his ankle twisted to the side and he fell into the snow with a yelp, the gun going off one more time.
I Make Mad Films. ‘Kay I Don’t Make Films, but if I Did They’d Have a Samurai.
Open
"I- I, uh," She grimaced, flopping back onto the ground, "Sorry?"
Looked at the coffin. Looked back at Boy 1 and Boy 2 and then Person of Ambigous Gender 1. The side of her face was wet.
"He's... lying?"
She didn't actually do anything. Corpses who were laid face-down were more likely to stare into The Core of the earth, causing disastrous consequences-
She didn't actually do anything. Her mind drifted. It snapped back. She continued to not do anything.
The gunshots went off. She squeaked.
Could've done something, maybe. Grabbed the fat boy's gun, and just like bum rush him. Could also run the other way. Away. Maybe PoAG wouldn't shoot her. Could've said something more convincing, not uptalking, so her words wouldn't sound like a question. None of that could be done, though, not now, not by her, a sad crying wet girl laying on the ground with her shaky arms proping her up. She wanted to die right now and maybe get it over with already since everything was just so stressful. How do people work? How do their brains function? She didn't know. She didn't know any of that. Not first hand, anyways. She was always so detached from all that. Without the layer of isolation as comfort her personal bubble was easily penetrated, everything, ever full-fisted pummel, every cruel world, it always stung thrice as much and always took more effort to shrug off. She didn't know how to exist in the same space with people, much less hurt them, much much less comforting them. She would've felt just as trapped as the person inside the coffin, if she even thought about that, but she was mostly thinking about herself.
About the gun, about the noise, about the fact that she was wronged.
The second bullet hit her directly above the navel, pain dissolving into her gut, like dye in water. She fell back again, head hitting the ground beneath the cushioning snow. She suddenly couldn't care about her wet hair and stuffy nose.
Looked at the coffin. Looked back at Boy 1 and Boy 2 and then Person of Ambigous Gender 1. The side of her face was wet.
"He's... lying?"
She didn't actually do anything. Corpses who were laid face-down were more likely to stare into The Core of the earth, causing disastrous consequences-
She didn't actually do anything. Her mind drifted. It snapped back. She continued to not do anything.
The gunshots went off. She squeaked.
Could've done something, maybe. Grabbed the fat boy's gun, and just like bum rush him. Could also run the other way. Away. Maybe PoAG wouldn't shoot her. Could've said something more convincing, not uptalking, so her words wouldn't sound like a question. None of that could be done, though, not now, not by her, a sad crying wet girl laying on the ground with her shaky arms proping her up. She wanted to die right now and maybe get it over with already since everything was just so stressful. How do people work? How do their brains function? She didn't know. She didn't know any of that. Not first hand, anyways. She was always so detached from all that. Without the layer of isolation as comfort her personal bubble was easily penetrated, everything, ever full-fisted pummel, every cruel world, it always stung thrice as much and always took more effort to shrug off. She didn't know how to exist in the same space with people, much less hurt them, much much less comforting them. She would've felt just as trapped as the person inside the coffin, if she even thought about that, but she was mostly thinking about herself.
About the gun, about the noise, about the fact that she was wronged.
The second bullet hit her directly above the navel, pain dissolving into her gut, like dye in water. She fell back again, head hitting the ground beneath the cushioning snow. She suddenly couldn't care about her wet hair and stuffy nose.
Blood Tongue Nails Teeth
Hector lied, which had Prii narrowing their eyes but reluctant to force the issue. He'd stopped doing what he'd done to make Quentin blow a gasket, so that was enough for now. They really didn't want to make this into an even bigger mess, not with a gun (two guns, they had to remind themself, they were holding one of them), somebody crying and injured on the floor, and both the dudes acting really shady and/or aggressive.
They had to make sure she was okay. That was the priority, otherwise why'd they even get involved?
Someone screamed. Below ground level.
Prii didn't get the chance to even start making sense of that before Quentin started shooting.
It was loud. God, it was loud.
They ducked instinctively. Yelled out something incoherent, equally instinctively. An answering shout, another gunshot, before they even straightened back up again. The girl thudded back to the ground. The snowflakes seemed to hang in the air.
Shit. god. Fuck. What did they do? What did they do?
If they stood here frozen, it would get worse, and worse, and worse.
They started to move. They ran, stumbling across the graveyard to where the girl lay and Hector had backpedalled from, still close but not as close. Quentin was on the floor too, how'd that happen, but it meant he wasn't firing again, meant Prii could get over there.
Suddenly, they were by her side. They recognised her face, couldn't remember her name, hoped they'd learn it.
"Try to stay still." Could she hear them?
Prii was pressed up to a tombstone, shoulder flat against it. With their free hand, they started trying to drag the girl into cover.
They had to make sure she was okay. That was the priority, otherwise why'd they even get involved?
Someone screamed. Below ground level.
Prii didn't get the chance to even start making sense of that before Quentin started shooting.
It was loud. God, it was loud.
They ducked instinctively. Yelled out something incoherent, equally instinctively. An answering shout, another gunshot, before they even straightened back up again. The girl thudded back to the ground. The snowflakes seemed to hang in the air.
Shit. god. Fuck. What did they do? What did they do?
If they stood here frozen, it would get worse, and worse, and worse.
They started to move. They ran, stumbling across the graveyard to where the girl lay and Hector had backpedalled from, still close but not as close. Quentin was on the floor too, how'd that happen, but it meant he wasn't firing again, meant Prii could get over there.
Suddenly, they were by her side. They recognised her face, couldn't remember her name, hoped they'd learn it.
"Try to stay still." Could she hear them?
Prii was pressed up to a tombstone, shoulder flat against it. With their free hand, they started trying to drag the girl into cover.
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Grand Moff Hissa
- Posts: 2755
- Joined: Thu Aug 09, 2018 1:37 am
As soon as the shooting started, Hector was in motion. The direction was simple: away. Maybe the girl had just dropped out of fear before, then played possum. but this time Hector watched her lurch with the impact before crumpling. He knew a hit.
His eyes tracked the guns and their wielders. Fatty split in terror at the unexpected cries, then went ass-over-head on the ice. Hector smirked. Skinny ran his way but then made for the girl, knelt by her, tried to save her. Both out of the way.
Hector made a semicircle around them, nice ten foot radius dancing between gravestones and patches of ice to get closer to where the cry had come from, opposite the side he'd started at. Once he was in position, he took a single, long step forwards, then another that also lowered him towards the ground, back knee gently brushing over icy gravel. His hand reached, fingers grasping, and then he plucked the handkerchief and its porcine contents up from right next to the newcomer.
Instantly, Hector was tiptoeing backwards again, out of the way, out of mind. He added the hunk of meat from his hand to the bundle, so he still had a hand free, and then backed up more until his heels were up against the coffin that had screamed.
As he walked around it, he leaned down and rapped his knuckles against the lid, loud even with the faint muffling of slathered fat and grease and snow on the top of the box: knock knock knock.
Lowering himself to crouch next to the coffin, Hector hissed to it: "What did she do to you?"
His eyes tracked the guns and their wielders. Fatty split in terror at the unexpected cries, then went ass-over-head on the ice. Hector smirked. Skinny ran his way but then made for the girl, knelt by her, tried to save her. Both out of the way.
Hector made a semicircle around them, nice ten foot radius dancing between gravestones and patches of ice to get closer to where the cry had come from, opposite the side he'd started at. Once he was in position, he took a single, long step forwards, then another that also lowered him towards the ground, back knee gently brushing over icy gravel. His hand reached, fingers grasping, and then he plucked the handkerchief and its porcine contents up from right next to the newcomer.
Instantly, Hector was tiptoeing backwards again, out of the way, out of mind. He added the hunk of meat from his hand to the bundle, so he still had a hand free, and then backed up more until his heels were up against the coffin that had screamed.
As he walked around it, he leaned down and rapped his knuckles against the lid, loud even with the faint muffling of slathered fat and grease and snow on the top of the box: knock knock knock.
Lowering himself to crouch next to the coffin, Hector hissed to it: "What did she do to you?"
I bid you all dark greetings!
The screaming had stopped, actually. It cut off abruptly once Quentin fired off his first shot in its direction, just missing the gravestone by a centimeter or two. The shaking had stopped as well. Almost like the occupant had realized they really were a corpse and went back to their eternal rest.
Once Hector knocked on its lid, however, there were muffled shuffling noises from inside, before said lid opened, ever so slightly.
Just enough that a single green eye could be seen peeping out of the crack.
"What...what did...who is she?"
Once Hector knocked on its lid, however, there were muffled shuffling noises from inside, before said lid opened, ever so slightly.
Just enough that a single green eye could be seen peeping out of the crack.
"What...what did...who is she?"
Quentin lifted his face and spat out some snow and dirt. He pushed himself up and stood- oh fuck oh god that hurt. He sank back into the snow and rolled on his back, lifting his leg into the air. His ankle hurt so fucking much, and this EEEEEEEEEEE was in in his ears worse than ever. He still held the gun limply in his hand.
Quentin turned his head and saw Prii kneeling next to the girl. What were they doing?
"Don't do that." he said. His owns words sounded muffled and smothered. "She's- uh-" What, a zombie?
Wait, that was stupid. Quentin couldn't explain what was going on, but the more Quentin lay in pain in the snow, the more his "dead raising from their graves" fear seemed... unrealistic.
"Oh fuck, I'm sorry." he said "I dont know what's going- this is all so hard."
Quentin hadn't done anything to deserve this! But then people just started insulting him, and yelling at him, and scaring him, and his ankle was probably fucking broken. This was what happened when you tried to be a good person.
Prii was checking on the girl, and Asshole Boy was doing something with the coffin. They didn't need him there anymore, right?
"Okay 'm just gonna get out of here." he said, laying on his side and trying to push himself along the ground like a slug.
Quentin turned his head and saw Prii kneeling next to the girl. What were they doing?
"Don't do that." he said. His owns words sounded muffled and smothered. "She's- uh-" What, a zombie?
Wait, that was stupid. Quentin couldn't explain what was going on, but the more Quentin lay in pain in the snow, the more his "dead raising from their graves" fear seemed... unrealistic.
"Oh fuck, I'm sorry." he said "I dont know what's going- this is all so hard."
Quentin hadn't done anything to deserve this! But then people just started insulting him, and yelling at him, and scaring him, and his ankle was probably fucking broken. This was what happened when you tried to be a good person.
Prii was checking on the girl, and Asshole Boy was doing something with the coffin. They didn't need him there anymore, right?
"Okay 'm just gonna get out of here." he said, laying on his side and trying to push himself along the ground like a slug.
"Uh, I'm, uh, I'm fine I'm fine! Don't- Ack, ow, worry about me..."
She was being a bit tired of having random people drag and touch her the way she didn't like it, to be very honest. No offense to the good samaritan(?), she meant, but just... everything was Too Much which was way worse than a singular Bad Thing because this is a Bad Thing pileup, and yeah there's a good hearted person in there but that's just adding more pile weight at this point! So like hands off! Please! And thank you!
Largely intensified by the fact that everything hurt. She smiled, or more like grimaced, up at the person dragging her to safety, sheepish and apologetic- like she was sorry for being shot. Or for whatever was going on. Or like she was deriving some odd, sadomasochistic pleasure from this- she wasn't really sure, honestly. She wasn't paying any attention. But it was there.
She was being a bit tired of having random people drag and touch her the way she didn't like it, to be very honest. No offense to the good samaritan(?), she meant, but just... everything was Too Much which was way worse than a singular Bad Thing because this is a Bad Thing pileup, and yeah there's a good hearted person in there but that's just adding more pile weight at this point! So like hands off! Please! And thank you!
Largely intensified by the fact that everything hurt. She smiled, or more like grimaced, up at the person dragging her to safety, sheepish and apologetic- like she was sorry for being shot. Or for whatever was going on. Or like she was deriving some odd, sadomasochistic pleasure from this- she wasn't really sure, honestly. She wasn't paying any attention. But it was there.
Blood Tongue Nails Teeth
Prii didn't expect the words out of the girl's mouth to be so... ordinary? Yeah, ordinary was the right descriptor. She'd just been shot, how was she brushing them off like it was an overly fussy parent trying to comb her hair? Maybe she was in shock. Maybe any second now, there would be an explosion of blood and the screaming would start. Again. Restart.
Too much happening. Different people calling out different things, the person they'd thought they were helping acting against their expectations. Hector was moving around and Prii couldn't keep track of him and Quentin; they could barely keep track of themself.
Right. Themself. Okay.
They were behind this gravestone. Wasn't much, but it was something. Girl was more or less behind here too. They let go of her. The cover was between the two of them and Quentin, who was... he was seriously apologising.
Prii didn't know how to feel about that. Quentin had shot somebody. Straight up. They still didn't know if she was okay. Prii wanted to give it to him with both barrels—ugh no wrong analogy wrong analogy let's back that one up—but couldn't force out the words, not with their pulse racing and body trembling. It looked as if, against the odds, things were going to calm down, that Quentin was maybe just going to leave and that for now, everything would be alright. Should they really be thinking about escalating at a time like this?
Prii punted and glanced at the girl.
"Sorry. You sure you're okay?"
Too much happening. Different people calling out different things, the person they'd thought they were helping acting against their expectations. Hector was moving around and Prii couldn't keep track of him and Quentin; they could barely keep track of themself.
Right. Themself. Okay.
They were behind this gravestone. Wasn't much, but it was something. Girl was more or less behind here too. They let go of her. The cover was between the two of them and Quentin, who was... he was seriously apologising.
Prii didn't know how to feel about that. Quentin had shot somebody. Straight up. They still didn't know if she was okay. Prii wanted to give it to him with both barrels—ugh no wrong analogy wrong analogy let's back that one up—but couldn't force out the words, not with their pulse racing and body trembling. It looked as if, against the odds, things were going to calm down, that Quentin was maybe just going to leave and that for now, everything would be alright. Should they really be thinking about escalating at a time like this?
Prii punted and glanced at the girl.
"Sorry. You sure you're okay?"
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Grand Moff Hissa
- Posts: 2755
- Joined: Thu Aug 09, 2018 1:37 am
Hector met the eye in the coffin, then glared in the direction of the girl who'd been shot.
"I don't know," he said. "But I intend to."
Fatty was spluttering out useless apologies, but he'd been just as casual with his bullets. Skinny was armed and hadn't yet shot anyone, but had immediately picked a side in the standoff. The girl was talking normal, like she hadn't made her best possum impression. And the coffin eye was another unknown factor, which would have him believe it totally uninvolved despite the timing of its cacophony.
Hector didn't trust any of them.
He pressed his hand against the lid of the coffin and then levered himself up to a standing position again, putting his full weight against the lid to drive it back downwards. Then he rested his right foot on it as he called out to the others in a quick, sharp bark:
"Hey."
"I don't know," he said. "But I intend to."
Fatty was spluttering out useless apologies, but he'd been just as casual with his bullets. Skinny was armed and hadn't yet shot anyone, but had immediately picked a side in the standoff. The girl was talking normal, like she hadn't made her best possum impression. And the coffin eye was another unknown factor, which would have him believe it totally uninvolved despite the timing of its cacophony.
Hector didn't trust any of them.
He pressed his hand against the lid of the coffin and then levered himself up to a standing position again, putting his full weight against the lid to drive it back downwards. Then he rested his right foot on it as he called out to the others in a quick, sharp bark:
"Hey."
I bid you all dark greetings!
There was just enough time for the eye's brow to quirk, and the voice to let out a small "Wha-" before the lid was shoved down, and the statement turned into a squeak.
There was a pause for a moment where there was no apparent reaction from inside the coffin. The boy put his full weight on it's lid and tried to get the attention of others, and the coffin lay silent.
Then, banging noises. As though someone was beating their fists against wood.
"WHAT THE FUCK?!"
The voice was muffled, but loud enough that it could still be understood.
It was not happy.
There was a pause for a moment where there was no apparent reaction from inside the coffin. The boy put his full weight on it's lid and tried to get the attention of others, and the coffin lay silent.
Then, banging noises. As though someone was beating their fists against wood.
"WHAT THE FUCK?!"
The voice was muffled, but loud enough that it could still be understood.
It was not happy.
His hands sunk into the snow and came out wet as he used them to pull himself forward on his hands and knees. His gun was stuffed into his pocket, ready to draw again in case anyone came after him. After a few minutes his hands were so cold he had to stop for a moment and stuff them into his coat. Wasn't SOTF always in the summer before? This was so unfair.
Quentin heard a distant 'What the fuck!" coming back from the others. He craned his head back over his shoulder, and couldn't see who had been shouting.
"Don't yell at me." Quentin mumbled. "I'm trying. I'm trying."
He turned back and started crawling again.
Quentin heard a distant 'What the fuck!" coming back from the others. He craned his head back over his shoulder, and couldn't see who had been shouting.
"Don't yell at me." Quentin mumbled. "I'm trying. I'm trying."
He turned back and started crawling again.
It’s kind of unfair that the boy managed to make her pity him after he shot her. Repeatedly. And she was still reeling from the pain!
“Mm-hm!” She nodded at the person who actually tried to help her. “Yep… ah…”
She stuck her finger in the hole that the bullet made. Pushed it aside, to reveal the ruined fabric underneath. A tear blanketed her eyeball, making everything blurry.
“I’m fine. I guess. Ouch…”
“Hey,” she called out to the guy who shot her. “Hey, it’s- it’s alright.” Suddenly, she felt very stupid. It felt hot and embarrassing and like something sticky was trickling down inside of her, congealing in her skull- blocking out her mental functions. She was stupid. She was so stupid. Why did she just say that? It wasn’t alright. It wasn’t alright at all. She should be angry.
“Mm-hm!” She nodded at the person who actually tried to help her. “Yep… ah…”
She stuck her finger in the hole that the bullet made. Pushed it aside, to reveal the ruined fabric underneath. A tear blanketed her eyeball, making everything blurry.
“I’m fine. I guess. Ouch…”
“Hey,” she called out to the guy who shot her. “Hey, it’s- it’s alright.” Suddenly, she felt very stupid. It felt hot and embarrassing and like something sticky was trickling down inside of her, congealing in her skull- blocking out her mental functions. She was stupid. She was so stupid. Why did she just say that? It wasn’t alright. It wasn’t alright at all. She should be angry.
Blood Tongue Nails Teeth
Prii looked at the girl askance. They didn't think they'd be just accepting an apology, even though they didn't want the situation to get out of control again. There was avoiding a confrontation and there was uh, letting somebdody off the hook for shooting you. Like they knew they were kind of fixed on this but they felt like they could cut themselves some slack. They hadn't had a gunfight sketched out for this trip. They hadn't thought, even being dumped into this killing game, that the very first thing they'd see was somebody getting the crap kicked out of them and then shot.
Prii still couldn't figure out how she was only hurt and not bleeding to death. They couldn't see blood at all, and she'd definitely been hit, she was poking around with the bullet hole, for crying out loud!
This stopped making sense a whole ago, Prii was just along for the ride.
They shook their head a bit to refocus.
"You want to get out of here?" they muttered to her. "If you can get up, I can look out for you."
Prii still couldn't figure out how she was only hurt and not bleeding to death. They couldn't see blood at all, and she'd definitely been hit, she was poking around with the bullet hole, for crying out loud!
This stopped making sense a whole ago, Prii was just along for the ride.
They shook their head a bit to refocus.
"You want to get out of here?" they muttered to her. "If you can get up, I can look out for you."
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Grand Moff Hissa
- Posts: 2755
- Joined: Thu Aug 09, 2018 1:37 am
Hector's greeting went unanswered. He still didn't trust the others, but now he also resented them, with the exception of the one entombed in the earth beneath his feet. His jaw clenched, the skin where his eyebrow met the top of his nose wrinkling.
Were they all going to run away? That was well and fine—just as soon as Hector had his answers. He didn't care for being ignored.
He raised his boot and slammed it down on the lid of the coffin twice, paired booming explosions of noise that sliced through the air less than the gunfire, but gave it a run for its money. It was probably a lot louder inside the box, Hector realized, but you always hurt the ones you tolerate.
There was a stillness for just a moment.
"I said, 'hey,'" he snarled.
Were they all going to run away? That was well and fine—just as soon as Hector had his answers. He didn't care for being ignored.
He raised his boot and slammed it down on the lid of the coffin twice, paired booming explosions of noise that sliced through the air less than the gunfire, but gave it a run for its money. It was probably a lot louder inside the box, Hector realized, but you always hurt the ones you tolerate.
There was a stillness for just a moment.
"I said, 'hey,'" he snarled.
I bid you all dark greetings!
People talked. Apologies were thrown out. Attempts to escape were made. The beating against wood coming from inside the coffin continued.
Then the stomps came.
The first silenced the trapped individual, a pause in the beating.
The second caused the coffin to shift, ever so slightly. As though whoever was inside shifted suddenly-a strong flinch, maybe.
For a few moments after the stomper spoke, there was nothing. No noise coming from the coffin. No shifting. It simply lay there, exactly as you'd expect of a coffin, whether or not a body laid in it.
Then, the moment passed.
The slam against the lid of the coffin was stronger than the last, despite not coming with any follow-up. Not enough energy to slam it open, especially with the boy atop it. But enough that it might disturb him.
Loud enough that it should've drawn attention, too.
Then the stomps came.
The first silenced the trapped individual, a pause in the beating.
The second caused the coffin to shift, ever so slightly. As though whoever was inside shifted suddenly-a strong flinch, maybe.
For a few moments after the stomper spoke, there was nothing. No noise coming from the coffin. No shifting. It simply lay there, exactly as you'd expect of a coffin, whether or not a body laid in it.
Then, the moment passed.
The slam against the lid of the coffin was stronger than the last, despite not coming with any follow-up. Not enough energy to slam it open, especially with the boy atop it. But enough that it might disturb him.
Loud enough that it should've drawn attention, too.