"Kay bye."
Connie did not care if they came back in the least.
In fact, it was preferable.
Beautiful Dead
Open
Jack was dead. That was what Ellis had taken from the announcements. He had left him and Kathleen behind, only to die on his own. Ellis grit his teeth and clenched his fists as he took it in. That was another person gone. Another new friend lost to the game. How many more would it take before it was satisfied?
Ellis almost didn't hear Kathleen leaving the room. It wasn't until Connie said bye that he snapped out of his state.
"Kath, wait!" he said.
He quickly scrambled to get his items.
"Sorry to leave," Ellis said to Connie. "I'll try to bring her back. Stay safe."
Ellis hurried after Kathleen, unsure of which direction she headed. But he knew he couldn't lose her too. He couldn't lose anyone else.
((Ellis Wheaton continued in If I have to explain it to you, it's not funny))
Ellis almost didn't hear Kathleen leaving the room. It wasn't until Connie said bye that he snapped out of his state.
"Kath, wait!" he said.
He quickly scrambled to get his items.
"Sorry to leave," Ellis said to Connie. "I'll try to bring her back. Stay safe."
Ellis hurried after Kathleen, unsure of which direction she headed. But he knew he couldn't lose her too. He couldn't lose anyone else.
((Ellis Wheaton continued in If I have to explain it to you, it's not funny))
Connie barely nodded to acknowledge Ellis's departure. She'd spent hours stuck in that pair's company, and if it wasn't for the fact it finally felt as if opportunity and locale had aligned, she'd have ditched the lab long before now.
This station had been her camp for far too long. She was sick of the sight of it, sick of being... dull and drab, of plotting everything and accomplishing next to nothing. Sick of being a cheap trick, the lazy scare forgotten within minutes, let alone by the ending credits.
Now was the time. No more delays.
Faint coals of the fire remained, and with a little careful nurturing, the feeding of a couple extra pieces of wood, it burned once more. The thin plume of smoke emerging from the meagre offering curled upward with Connie's lip.
Imbued with fresh purpose, Connie moved about the room, collecting more of the furniture than ever before. With brute force, kicks and stomps, and simply throwing tables and chairs to the floor or against the wall, she quickly assembled a sizable pile of kindling. She surveyed her handiwork with a critical eye, added a table leg to her campfire, and then shook her head decisively. More.
She went around the cupboards. Those lowest to the ground she opened up the doors and wrenched them from their hinges. The contents, she ransacked whatever looked like it would burn, or at least sucuumb to the heat. Plastic and polymers didn't need to be good fuel to suit her purposes.
Connie dumped the new haul with the old, studied the fire again. The key was to prevent it from spreading, keep it from looking like she was trying to burn the entire place to the ground. She hadn't forgotten the sound from her collar when she had dared to touch one of their precious eyes. That was not the line she wanted to toe.
So, if she arranged it like so, creating rings of kindling, using flatter pieces—a collection of trays both plastic and wooden were ideal—as a stable base, and then carefully constructing atop that, then the pyre wouldn't collapse too catastrophically once the flames began to consume it. That would remove the risk of it catching the rest of the room alight. Sending everything up in flames wasn't the plan, would defeat the whole purpose, on top of probably getting her killed.
One more look at what she'd built.
The size was good. Bulky. Though she was no camper, she thought that had to be enough material for the fire to stay alive for a long while.
One more look around the room. Minimal ventilation, as Ellis had so helpfully pointed out.
Nowhere for the smoke to travel.
Connie's mouth quirked into a smile. Her fingers twitched around the final pieces of kindling.
With a little flourish, she laid them across her fire, bridging the gap from the central section, where the heat crackled and spat, onto the fresh wood. She watched as they slowly caught alight, and the flame crept along their length. She watched the flames spread, then take its first greedy grasps upon its newfound fuel source. She thought she felt the temperature rise, just a little.
She turned and left the room, a slight spring in her step.
This time, she ensured the door wasn't propped open.
((connie continued in Salted Field))
This station had been her camp for far too long. She was sick of the sight of it, sick of being... dull and drab, of plotting everything and accomplishing next to nothing. Sick of being a cheap trick, the lazy scare forgotten within minutes, let alone by the ending credits.
Now was the time. No more delays.
Faint coals of the fire remained, and with a little careful nurturing, the feeding of a couple extra pieces of wood, it burned once more. The thin plume of smoke emerging from the meagre offering curled upward with Connie's lip.
Imbued with fresh purpose, Connie moved about the room, collecting more of the furniture than ever before. With brute force, kicks and stomps, and simply throwing tables and chairs to the floor or against the wall, she quickly assembled a sizable pile of kindling. She surveyed her handiwork with a critical eye, added a table leg to her campfire, and then shook her head decisively. More.
She went around the cupboards. Those lowest to the ground she opened up the doors and wrenched them from their hinges. The contents, she ransacked whatever looked like it would burn, or at least sucuumb to the heat. Plastic and polymers didn't need to be good fuel to suit her purposes.
Connie dumped the new haul with the old, studied the fire again. The key was to prevent it from spreading, keep it from looking like she was trying to burn the entire place to the ground. She hadn't forgotten the sound from her collar when she had dared to touch one of their precious eyes. That was not the line she wanted to toe.
So, if she arranged it like so, creating rings of kindling, using flatter pieces—a collection of trays both plastic and wooden were ideal—as a stable base, and then carefully constructing atop that, then the pyre wouldn't collapse too catastrophically once the flames began to consume it. That would remove the risk of it catching the rest of the room alight. Sending everything up in flames wasn't the plan, would defeat the whole purpose, on top of probably getting her killed.
One more look at what she'd built.
The size was good. Bulky. Though she was no camper, she thought that had to be enough material for the fire to stay alive for a long while.
One more look around the room. Minimal ventilation, as Ellis had so helpfully pointed out.
Nowhere for the smoke to travel.
Connie's mouth quirked into a smile. Her fingers twitched around the final pieces of kindling.
With a little flourish, she laid them across her fire, bridging the gap from the central section, where the heat crackled and spat, onto the fresh wood. She watched as they slowly caught alight, and the flame crept along their length. She watched the flames spread, then take its first greedy grasps upon its newfound fuel source. She thought she felt the temperature rise, just a little.
She turned and left the room, a slight spring in her step.
This time, she ensured the door wasn't propped open.
((connie continued in Salted Field))