((continued from explanation))
Connie cracked a jaw-creaking yawn as she sat cross-legged in the tunnel. It was not warm down here.
She'd had some thoughts, and then she'd had a few more thoughts, and the idea of there being an entire network of tunnels underneath the station was a very fun one. Unfortunately, it seemed like a lot of the exits were all the way outside, which didn't especially suit her, made certain ideas a lot more difficult and more labour-intensive than she was prepared to put up with. Places to go, people to see and all, couldn't spend all day messing around.
It hadn't been a comfortable place to sleep, either, but on the balance of here and outside, then Connie was going to take being out of the elements, all day long. She wouldn't preserve as well as an alien lifeform. Wonder if they had an ice bath up there? If Connie saw any dogs, she wasn't petting them.
There was one door that seemed as if it led directly into a building, but when Connie had checked it out, she was sure that she'd heard voices, and she wasn't quite ready for that yet. Needed her alone time, you know? Keep the thoughts spinning around the Conniebox. So, she backed up and went back to exploring, taking a mental note of the door for later.
Now, up and about again and instead of going back inside, Connie stepped into the cold through one of the exterior doors, not far from another building. It was an innie, probably to stop snow from piling up outside of it and trapping you in the tunnel. Though probably if there was enough snow piled outside you'd pull it on top of you so maybe there were no winners here. That sounded kind of hilarious but also like too much work, so in place of creating a full on drift, Connie scooped up some of the snow and packed it against the bottom hinge of the door. Repeating the process a few times, she had enough of a build up that the door would no longer swing shut by itself. Honestly the door was already kind of cruddy and she was surprised the hinges hadn't either frozen over or rusted to crap, but somehting like this might do the trick, especially if snow started going directly into the now-exposed opening.
Connie rubbed some warmth back into her hands and gave a satisfied nod.
Playtime
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Dr Adjective
- Posts: 442
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- Location: UK
[Evie McKown was asking what she was going to do, now she’s here]
As it turned out, what they were going to do was move rapidly away from where Evie had made a lot of noise. More importantly, head towards the infirmary that was marked on the map as being part of the research station, and see if there were any medical supplies left un-pilfered and in good enough condition to restock what she and Claire had already used. Judging by the state of disrepair anything perishable was probably long expired, but alcohol and dressings might still be in a usable condition.
More importantly than all of that, their stated goal was to find friends. Say their last farewells, in Claire’s words. Evie still wasn’t sure about that. She didn’t want to die, wasn’t ready to, yet the cost of living seemed inconceivable to pay. She’d have to come down on one side or another sooner rather than later.
However, for the time being, she had an uncomplicated short-term goal to distract herself with.
So they’d snuck swiftly downstairs, then down again to the entrance to the tunnels. No sense in going out into the early-morning chill unnecessarily when an indoor route existed.
Evie’s foot hurt. Anger could be quite the anaesthetic, but kicking heavy things around didn’t come without pain. Her midriff hurt too, but that was that background noise of her life now. A constant low signal, a consistent companion reminding her that she had thought of Alex Avanesian as a friend once.
After a time, the duo came upon something still capable of surprising Evie even after hearing that nine of her classmates had seen fit to kill eleven others in some fairly creative ways. She’d been mentally preparing herself to start encountering scenes of violence, active or past, or to have to avoid someone who looked like they meant trouble. What she hadn’t been ready for was what certainly seemed to be someone trying to block one of the doors open. A door she had hoped might lead out towards the Infirmary.
Why?
Well, why anyone would do that didn’t really matter.
Evie raised a hand to silently warn Claire, in case she hadn’t already seen.
Ball in Claire’s court.
As it turned out, what they were going to do was move rapidly away from where Evie had made a lot of noise. More importantly, head towards the infirmary that was marked on the map as being part of the research station, and see if there were any medical supplies left un-pilfered and in good enough condition to restock what she and Claire had already used. Judging by the state of disrepair anything perishable was probably long expired, but alcohol and dressings might still be in a usable condition.
More importantly than all of that, their stated goal was to find friends. Say their last farewells, in Claire’s words. Evie still wasn’t sure about that. She didn’t want to die, wasn’t ready to, yet the cost of living seemed inconceivable to pay. She’d have to come down on one side or another sooner rather than later.
However, for the time being, she had an uncomplicated short-term goal to distract herself with.
So they’d snuck swiftly downstairs, then down again to the entrance to the tunnels. No sense in going out into the early-morning chill unnecessarily when an indoor route existed.
Evie’s foot hurt. Anger could be quite the anaesthetic, but kicking heavy things around didn’t come without pain. Her midriff hurt too, but that was that background noise of her life now. A constant low signal, a consistent companion reminding her that she had thought of Alex Avanesian as a friend once.
After a time, the duo came upon something still capable of surprising Evie even after hearing that nine of her classmates had seen fit to kill eleven others in some fairly creative ways. She’d been mentally preparing herself to start encountering scenes of violence, active or past, or to have to avoid someone who looked like they meant trouble. What she hadn’t been ready for was what certainly seemed to be someone trying to block one of the doors open. A door she had hoped might lead out towards the Infirmary.
Why?
Well, why anyone would do that didn’t really matter.
Evie raised a hand to silently warn Claire, in case she hadn’t already seen.
Ball in Claire’s court.
S091: CLAIRE HAIG — CONTINUED FROM "Nothing Perpetual but Death"
The long march began again. A path forged, deeper and deeper into the great unknown—dipping their toes into the void. What sort of monsters may yet be lurking there? Claire had no answers. What frozen horrors lay, biding their time, lurking in the thorny brambles of the island's taiga? There was nothing but the static chimes in her ears.
Their destination was the one constant they had left: the infirmary, to scavenge what—if any—stores may remain. Their supplies, for now, would prove sufficient, but what about in the future? Nothing was certain except for death and taxes. If they wanted to live long enough to experience the latter, they'd have to find a way to prevent the former.
Still, there was no good solution in Claire's mind. One way or the other, they would have to kill or die—she loathed that truth, but it was still a certainty. How did that old speech go? "Not through speeches and majority decisions will the great questions of the day be decided, but by iron and blood." The damnable truth, it seemed.
At most, there had to be one death a day, but not every person had to perform such an act. How many people before them had refused to kill? She imagined that there were many. Of course, that only worked because, if they didn't, somebody else would—otherwise, everyone would die. That hadn't ever happened; was it even possible?
If, in theory, everybody refused to kill, they would die. If one person killed another person one time per day, how many days could that status quo prevail? Until rescue arrived? No, probably not. That would not be permitted by, pardon the word, their "benefactors," those higher powers who thought themselves akin to Gods.
If the terrorists deemed it necessary, they would detonate all the collars and pack up their operation—the lethal equivalent of taking their ball and going home when they started to lose. At least, Claire assumed so; they'd run four more operations since V4, the one where students escaped. It stood to reason that they'd have a contingency of sorts.
Eventually, they came upon another person in the midst of accomplishing something: blocking the door so it wouldn't shut. Evie warned her, and that was when she understood. Claire could only guess as to the myriad of potential reasons. Speculation, at that moment, was utterly worthless. It didn't matter why, and Claire didn't care why.
To her surprise, though, Evie was silent. No words. Why? Claire wasn't good at talking. She was a consummate rambler who communicated in drawn-out monologues—and that was when she wanted to speak. Most of the time, in class, she said nothing, keeping her head down and mouth shut until it was over.
Claire had only ever been good at burning bridges; now, she had to bridge the gap.
She sighed. A puff of cloudy white mist drifted out of her mouth. Her hands dug around in her pockets for a moment. A way to delay the inevitable—if only for the moment. She slipped on some gloves she'd taken from the bag earlier, black with three white stripes, and pulled them taut over her hands. She pulled the scarf down from her mouth.
"Hey!" she called, "Who's there? We're looking for the way to the infirmary." There was a lull, and she spoke again, through frigid breaths, "We won't hurt you—I promise. We only want to pass through."
The long march began again. A path forged, deeper and deeper into the great unknown—dipping their toes into the void. What sort of monsters may yet be lurking there? Claire had no answers. What frozen horrors lay, biding their time, lurking in the thorny brambles of the island's taiga? There was nothing but the static chimes in her ears.
Their destination was the one constant they had left: the infirmary, to scavenge what—if any—stores may remain. Their supplies, for now, would prove sufficient, but what about in the future? Nothing was certain except for death and taxes. If they wanted to live long enough to experience the latter, they'd have to find a way to prevent the former.
Still, there was no good solution in Claire's mind. One way or the other, they would have to kill or die—she loathed that truth, but it was still a certainty. How did that old speech go? "Not through speeches and majority decisions will the great questions of the day be decided, but by iron and blood." The damnable truth, it seemed.
At most, there had to be one death a day, but not every person had to perform such an act. How many people before them had refused to kill? She imagined that there were many. Of course, that only worked because, if they didn't, somebody else would—otherwise, everyone would die. That hadn't ever happened; was it even possible?
If, in theory, everybody refused to kill, they would die. If one person killed another person one time per day, how many days could that status quo prevail? Until rescue arrived? No, probably not. That would not be permitted by, pardon the word, their "benefactors," those higher powers who thought themselves akin to Gods.
If the terrorists deemed it necessary, they would detonate all the collars and pack up their operation—the lethal equivalent of taking their ball and going home when they started to lose. At least, Claire assumed so; they'd run four more operations since V4, the one where students escaped. It stood to reason that they'd have a contingency of sorts.
Eventually, they came upon another person in the midst of accomplishing something: blocking the door so it wouldn't shut. Evie warned her, and that was when she understood. Claire could only guess as to the myriad of potential reasons. Speculation, at that moment, was utterly worthless. It didn't matter why, and Claire didn't care why.
To her surprise, though, Evie was silent. No words. Why? Claire wasn't good at talking. She was a consummate rambler who communicated in drawn-out monologues—and that was when she wanted to speak. Most of the time, in class, she said nothing, keeping her head down and mouth shut until it was over.
Claire had only ever been good at burning bridges; now, she had to bridge the gap.
She sighed. A puff of cloudy white mist drifted out of her mouth. Her hands dug around in her pockets for a moment. A way to delay the inevitable—if only for the moment. She slipped on some gloves she'd taken from the bag earlier, black with three white stripes, and pulled them taut over her hands. She pulled the scarf down from her mouth.
"Hey!" she called, "Who's there? We're looking for the way to the infirmary." There was a lull, and she spoke again, through frigid breaths, "We won't hurt you—I promise. We only want to pass through."
Oh now? Friend?
Connie nudged her compacted snow-swiftly-becoming-ice pile with her shoe, pushing it that little bit more firmly. Give it a few hours and that hinge wasn't going to go anywhere.
The voice was from below, a little closer than Connie would have liked; by the time she saw movement out of the corner of her eye, they were already calling out to her. Silly. Needed to be aware or what was she even doing here?
A little hop and a skip away from the door and down a couple stairs. She turned fully, and tilted her head to the side.
Ah! Make that friends. Two people, just like before! Perhaps good things came in pairs on this island of theirs.
"Oh, howdy! It's Connie."
She waved, a little finger waggle of one hand.
Connie nudged her compacted snow-swiftly-becoming-ice pile with her shoe, pushing it that little bit more firmly. Give it a few hours and that hinge wasn't going to go anywhere.
The voice was from below, a little closer than Connie would have liked; by the time she saw movement out of the corner of her eye, they were already calling out to her. Silly. Needed to be aware or what was she even doing here?
A little hop and a skip away from the door and down a couple stairs. She turned fully, and tilted her head to the side.
Ah! Make that friends. Two people, just like before! Perhaps good things came in pairs on this island of theirs.
"Oh, howdy! It's Connie."
She waved, a little finger waggle of one hand.
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Dr Adjective
- Posts: 442
- Joined: Mon Jul 06, 2020 8:25 pm
- Location: UK
Okay, that hadn't been the idea at all. Evie had meant to warn Claire that someone else was there, not cue her to make introductions. Oh well. Luckily the third party seemed friendly enough.
Actually, she seemed a little too friendly. Cheerful, even. It gave Evie a certain uncomfortableness. There she was in dank and decrepit concrete tunnels that might've escaped right out of Silent Hill, surrounded by bitter cold and murderous teens, and this other girl seemed altogether too chipper. Seemed wrong, somehow. Part of her wondered how to communicate that to Claire without causing possibly-dangerous offence, another part assumed she must feel roughly the same discomfort.
"Hey Connie, uh,"
Evie recognised the name. Oddball, but sweet, back in real life. That's how she remembered the name Connie Toda. A bit like her, except Connie didn't seem at all concerned with keeping her more unusual interests to herself. As a result, even if her own preferred flavour of weird trivia was perhaps no less grim than Connie's affinity for cryptids, Evie did seem to have the upper hand in keeping her casual friendships. All this said, if asked a few days ago, Evie would obviously never have taken Connie for a dangerous person.
But she wouldn't have taken Kitty for a murderer either, would she?
"What exactly are you doing there?"
Actually, she seemed a little too friendly. Cheerful, even. It gave Evie a certain uncomfortableness. There she was in dank and decrepit concrete tunnels that might've escaped right out of Silent Hill, surrounded by bitter cold and murderous teens, and this other girl seemed altogether too chipper. Seemed wrong, somehow. Part of her wondered how to communicate that to Claire without causing possibly-dangerous offence, another part assumed she must feel roughly the same discomfort.
"Hey Connie, uh,"
Evie recognised the name. Oddball, but sweet, back in real life. That's how she remembered the name Connie Toda. A bit like her, except Connie didn't seem at all concerned with keeping her more unusual interests to herself. As a result, even if her own preferred flavour of weird trivia was perhaps no less grim than Connie's affinity for cryptids, Evie did seem to have the upper hand in keeping her casual friendships. All this said, if asked a few days ago, Evie would obviously never have taken Connie for a dangerous person.
But she wouldn't have taken Kitty for a murderer either, would she?
"What exactly are you doing there?"
Claire knew that Connie's name wasn't on the list. That meant a few things. One: the girl was alive—that much was obvious already. Corpses were unlikely to walk and talk. Two: she hadn't been marked on the announcements as a killer yet; mentally, Claire emphasized the "yet."
That didn't mean much in the end. Alex hadn't made the announcements either. That didn't mean he wasn't doing his damndest to get there. For all that either of them knew, she'd killed someone between that time and now. Was it likely? Perhaps, perhaps not. Who was to say?
In the end, the point was this; the other girl was an unknown factor—an enigma. Like a puzzle box, they wouldn't be able to understand the contents until they'd figured her out. And, though there was nothing outward to suggest it, what lurked inside could be dangerous.
At the most cursory glance, Connie wasn't a threat; no alarms went off. Still, Claire wasn't going to let looks deceive her. Not everybody was a threat, but everyone had the potential. Trust was not something to give—only something to be earned by deeds and actions.
Claire would let the two talk. There was no need for her to speak at the moment. Instead, she watched, eyes narrowed on the figure in front of them—searching for something amiss, dangerous, uncertain. What would she do if she found it?
She wasn't sure, but she needed to know.
That didn't mean much in the end. Alex hadn't made the announcements either. That didn't mean he wasn't doing his damndest to get there. For all that either of them knew, she'd killed someone between that time and now. Was it likely? Perhaps, perhaps not. Who was to say?
In the end, the point was this; the other girl was an unknown factor—an enigma. Like a puzzle box, they wouldn't be able to understand the contents until they'd figured her out. And, though there was nothing outward to suggest it, what lurked inside could be dangerous.
At the most cursory glance, Connie wasn't a threat; no alarms went off. Still, Claire wasn't going to let looks deceive her. Not everybody was a threat, but everyone had the potential. Trust was not something to give—only something to be earned by deeds and actions.
Claire would let the two talk. There was no need for her to speak at the moment. Instead, she watched, eyes narrowed on the figure in front of them—searching for something amiss, dangerous, uncertain. What would she do if she found it?
She wasn't sure, but she needed to know.
Connie indicated the door.
"I'm messing with the door."
She stuck her hands in the pockets of her hoodie and glanced back and forth between the two of them. She shrugged.
"You said the infirmary? I don't think it's this way."
Connie was pretty sure it was that way.
"I'm messing with the door."
She stuck her hands in the pockets of her hoodie and glanced back and forth between the two of them. She shrugged.
"You said the infirmary? I don't think it's this way."
Connie was pretty sure it was that way.
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Dr Adjective
- Posts: 442
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- Location: UK
Well that much was obvious. Maybe Evie should've asked more bluntly, asked why she was messing with the door rather than give the appearance that she hadn't realised that part already. Even here on Death Island, certain polite patterns of speech came too naturally to avoid, at least without going out of her way to choose each precise word. She'd subconsciously wanted to come off less interrogative, give a more open-ended question than demand to know why she was doing what she was doing.
"Thanks, uh,"
Oh well, at least she was happy to give (vague) directions. Still, Evie was curious and until further notice, Connie didn't seem like an active threat.
"Any particular reason you're keeping it open, though?"
Not like it could get much colder in the tunnels, but still, seemed like the only particular reason would be to circulate more cold air down there. Maybe clear out the smell of a corpse? No, Evie would've smelled that by now if it were a problem, and in this temperature...
"Thanks, uh,"
Oh well, at least she was happy to give (vague) directions. Still, Evie was curious and until further notice, Connie didn't seem like an active threat.
"Any particular reason you're keeping it open, though?"
Not like it could get much colder in the tunnels, but still, seemed like the only particular reason would be to circulate more cold air down there. Maybe clear out the smell of a corpse? No, Evie would've smelled that by now if it were a problem, and in this temperature...
Claire shoved her hands back into her pockets. A stifled breath, then she exhaled—a cloud of white smoke poured forth like dragon fire. She never trusted vagueness, as a rule. And if this wasn't vague, nothing was. So many questions were left unanswered, a conversation filled with gaps and blanks. All of it left her with a heightened sense of anxiety.
"I've got a bad feeling about this," she whispered to Evie. Was she the angel on the shoulder or the devil? It was hard for her to say at that moment. Either way, this whole situation was starting to give her the creeps. "I don't trust her," she continued. It wasn't a unique feeling—there weren't all that many people she did trust.
A hand reached out of her coat. She pawed at her scarf and adjusted her hat and the goggles on her head. It was an idle habit—a meaningless gesture. Then, she shoved it back into her pocket. She took another breath—in, out—another exhalation, a puff of white vapor. Uncertainty and hesitation ruled her in that instant.
Ultimately, though, decisive action overthrew them: "So, Connie, another question," she began. "We're looking for someone. Alex. Have you seen him?" It seemed a harmless question at the start. Then, her tone turned darker. "He's trying to kill people—tried to kill us." A pause. "We don't want to let him hurt anyone else."
"I've got a bad feeling about this," she whispered to Evie. Was she the angel on the shoulder or the devil? It was hard for her to say at that moment. Either way, this whole situation was starting to give her the creeps. "I don't trust her," she continued. It wasn't a unique feeling—there weren't all that many people she did trust.
A hand reached out of her coat. She pawed at her scarf and adjusted her hat and the goggles on her head. It was an idle habit—a meaningless gesture. Then, she shoved it back into her pocket. She took another breath—in, out—another exhalation, a puff of white vapor. Uncertainty and hesitation ruled her in that instant.
Ultimately, though, decisive action overthrew them: "So, Connie, another question," she began. "We're looking for someone. Alex. Have you seen him?" It seemed a harmless question at the start. Then, her tone turned darker. "He's trying to kill people—tried to kill us." A pause. "We don't want to let him hurt anyone else."
Connie rocked on her heels a little. She could see expressions. It was sort of fun, to be honest. This wasn't bad way to kill the time, even though she had bigger fish to fry than a single door.
"The why is a secret."
It was. There was absolutely no reason to frame her refusal to divulge in that way either, but she'd have got less of a kick out of it, and didn't that count as a reason all on its own?
They'd asked two questions.
"Alex? I don't think so." Connie sounded more thoughtful than she really was, which was also on purpose. "But thanks for the warning. I'll keep my eyes peeled."
One time she wrote a short script about peeling eyes. Involved a lot of lids being dissected. Somebody had called it unimaginative online.
"The why is a secret."
It was. There was absolutely no reason to frame her refusal to divulge in that way either, but she'd have got less of a kick out of it, and didn't that count as a reason all on its own?
They'd asked two questions.
"Alex? I don't think so." Connie sounded more thoughtful than she really was, which was also on purpose. "But thanks for the warning. I'll keep my eyes peeled."
One time she wrote a short script about peeling eyes. Involved a lot of lids being dissected. Somebody had called it unimaginative online.
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Dr Adjective
- Posts: 442
- Joined: Mon Jul 06, 2020 8:25 pm
- Location: UK
Yeah. Claire had a point. The other girl seemed to be treating the whole situation like a game, like she was assembling a weird structure in a public Minecraft server and refusing to elaborate as to what it was supposed to be. Unlike double-digit numbers of her classmates were already dead and for some reason she was messing about with a door. And then she'd taken the news that Alex had already attacked one of them in stride without missing a beat. The vibes were not good. The opposite of good, really. Evie started to wonder if perhaps Connie had been witness to one of the deaths, or more than one for that matter, and snapped somehow.
She'd kind of figured that was just the sort of thing that happened in fiction, surely real people didn't just go crazy like that, right? Well. Maybe she'd been wrong. Though she hadn't seen a weapon yet to make her truly nervous, Evie found herself agreeing with Claire completely. Bad feeling. Better to play it safe.
"Well... thanks, I guess. Have fun?"
Evie turned in the direction Connie had indicated as the way to the Infirmary, nudged Claire gently with an elbow.
"Let's hit the bricks, yeah?"
[Evie McKown will continue somewhere else!]
She'd kind of figured that was just the sort of thing that happened in fiction, surely real people didn't just go crazy like that, right? Well. Maybe she'd been wrong. Though she hadn't seen a weapon yet to make her truly nervous, Evie found herself agreeing with Claire completely. Bad feeling. Better to play it safe.
"Well... thanks, I guess. Have fun?"
Evie turned in the direction Connie had indicated as the way to the Infirmary, nudged Claire gently with an elbow.
"Let's hit the bricks, yeah?"
[Evie McKown will continue somewhere else!]
Claire felt vindicated for her suspicion. Connie, it seemed, only wanted to answer questions with questions, to leave them grasping for answers like needles in a haystack. She didn't trust that sort of thing; it was one game she wouldn't play. Lacking a better word, she was dying to leave—anywhere was better than here.
For all she knew, anything could be behind that door; now, none of the possibilities seemed good. No matter what, it seemed imperative to abandon this folly and move on to greener pastures, somewhere with people who were more interested in acting like normal humans and less like vague, ominous prophets.
Evie nudged her elbow, and Claire nodded her head. One after another, the duo plunged deeper into the darkness of the tunnels, their silhouettes fading into black. For a short while, one could hear the pitter-patter of their footsteps in the distance. The noises gradually sounded further and further away and then, ultimately, disappeared.
Then, the underground tunnels seemed as empty and silent as an ancient tomb.
S091: CLAIRE HAIG — CONTINUED IN "Stranger in the Alps"
For all she knew, anything could be behind that door; now, none of the possibilities seemed good. No matter what, it seemed imperative to abandon this folly and move on to greener pastures, somewhere with people who were more interested in acting like normal humans and less like vague, ominous prophets.
Evie nudged her elbow, and Claire nodded her head. One after another, the duo plunged deeper into the darkness of the tunnels, their silhouettes fading into black. For a short while, one could hear the pitter-patter of their footsteps in the distance. The noises gradually sounded further and further away and then, ultimately, disappeared.
Then, the underground tunnels seemed as empty and silent as an ancient tomb.
S091: CLAIRE HAIG — CONTINUED IN "Stranger in the Alps"
Well, that was a good way to kill a few minutes.
Connie studied her handiwork for a little bit, and then shrugged. Would be good enough for her purposes, she reckoned. The more the snow blew, the more it'd scatter down here. Fun.
Wasn't an encounter those two would soon forget either. That mattered.
Time for her to make tracks. Or... leave a trail. Yeah. She liked that one better.
((Connie continued in Stranger in the Alps, but it's totally an accident))
Connie studied her handiwork for a little bit, and then shrugged. Would be good enough for her purposes, she reckoned. The more the snow blew, the more it'd scatter down here. Fun.
Wasn't an encounter those two would soon forget either. That mattered.
Time for her to make tracks. Or... leave a trail. Yeah. She liked that one better.
((Connie continued in Stranger in the Alps, but it's totally an accident))