I’m a Princess, Cut From Marble, Smoother Than a Storm

[Yugikun]

Finally. It had happened. The noise had deigned itself fit to stop.

...Almost, that was. Even above the wind, their words had traced their way towards her, entered her mind as a faint whisper. Even when a pause in conversation had turned them silent, they still remained a presence in Roxanne’s mind, clogging her attention up with their disconnected sentences, their unintelligible topic. She used what attention still remained in an attempt to block it out, but the effort was showing itself pointless, the damage had already been done. She saw the distant sky, the sea below but now they no longer represented anything more than that. They weren’t the beginning of something bigger, they weren’t a place where she could think herself through, become something new. No. It was just the sky. It was just the sea. The chance for it to become something more than that had vanished long ago, the moment Princess had filled Roxanne’s space with herself. Very clearly, with what scene had started now, she had no more place standing on these cliffs.

So she turned her body around, at long last. She picked her bag up off the ground, put it onto her back. She took one last look at the four people in the semi-distance. Tried to see if there was anything more she could make out of that image. Try and find significance in the fact that this in all likelihood would be the last time she’d likely see any of them.

She couldn’t. There wasn’t any significance to the people in the distance. They were people, just as sea and sky behind her were nothing more than that. She turned her head away from them, started walking. Focused her eyes on the ground as she walked off the cliff, let her destination have no foreshadowing.

Perhaps there would be importance found elsewhere.

Perhaps she could reinvent herself wherever that someplace was.

((Anna "Roxanne" Herbert, continued in Lunacy))

[Espi]

Oh no, they were all looking at her. Paloma didn't want that.

In theory, there were advantages to having people around. They could share resources, cooperate to defend against attacks. But Paloma had plenty of food and water for a while, and unless she could use them as a shield, she didn't think and of these people would be much use protecting her. And, of course, tomorrow they would turn on her immediately.

The good news was that 'Megan' had distracted Princess, and Anna just kind of...left. Paloma didn't stop her. Whatever her problem was, it wasn't Paloma's problem. What was her problem was Claude trying to be a good Samaritan. She was, admittedly, curious to see how long that lasted, perhaps out of spite towards his ability to pretend things weren't already unspeakably horrible. But she also didn't want o be around when that happened. Ideally, she'd never run into anyone again. That wasn't going to happen, but she could at least work towards that.

"No, no, it's okay. I don't...uh." She paused, putting her hand on her mouth and grimacing. His offer was sensible sounding, enough that she couldn't just wave it off easily. "I don't, you know. Wanna see bad things happen to you guys." She'd already seen bad things happen to people, and that was plenty for her. Paloma took a slightly shuddering breath and squeezed her eyes shut.

"Sorry, but uh, good luck." She gave a weak smile and a small wave, before turning and progressing down the slope and out into the woods.

((Hopefully she could be alone for a bit. Her hands were shaking.))

[Zetsu]

So they didn't want Megan. Didn't like her, or didn't trust her, or something else.

Hey, it's okay. Thinking logically, of course they'd be scared if they heard someone running. Now isn't the time to be dramatic.

"Princess! Princess, oh my god, I..." Megan trailed off as Princess's one-word response sunk in. Not even Princess wanted her right now.

Okay, now is precisely the time to be dramatic, to indulge, to let go, to forgive herself for being weak and doing whatever she needed to do to feel okay--God knows, at least her weakness wasn't the kind that killed people. It takes a million times longer to put something back together once it's fallen apart, etc., and there wasn't a chance of living long enough to recover from this, then why try? But there are better ways for Megan to hold herself together--just give her a minute, just give her a reason to think that she's not falling apart, that everything's not falling apart, that she isn't a useless burden. If she can be helpful for just a second, if even now she could be strong for someone else, then she'll know that she can be strong, that she is strong, that everything is going to be okay. Everything is going to be okay. Except everyone had left and nobody needed what Megan wanted to give and nobody could give what Megan needed.

Shush. If the girl came back from the cliff, that was a good thing. You have to remind yourself of that. If she didn't need Megan's help for it, that was fine. That mattered more than letting Megan do something to feel good about herself, no matter what Megan needed to prove to herself. The whole point was to not let herself become a burden.

Which just, well. Goes to show. How many people were holding Megan together when Megan had let herself believe she had actually figured out how to do it herself, before Megan had her fantasy of a future snatched away and replaced with reality?

Okay. Megan needs to stop. Look, your girl is still capable of coherent thought. There's not even a need to be sarcastic about it. Megan can still read her own thoughts, can still see the bad thoughts, can still take steps to fight them. That's important. That's really really important.

Megan took a deep breath, met Princess's eyes. "Are you okay? I mean, I'm not okay. This is...I mean, I've always thought of myself as a survivor, like, I survived this long, you know? But, this, well..."

Megan was staring, she realized. She averted her eyes, stared out over the cliff instead. Not that she was taking in the view.

Megan permitted herself a laugh, a hysterical little hopeless giggle that left her throat raw and unprepared and nervous. "Well, forget survival. In that sense. The last-one-standing sense. You know what I actually mean, like. I thought that if things ever got bad for me again, like, the bad old days, before you knew me, I'd be able to handle it, because like I got out of it before, but now I can't, or maybe my brain is just telling me that I can't, and I need, I need to shut it up, I need to know it's wrong."

Okay. Okay. Okay.

One more thing. Don't be rude, now. Keep it together.

The other person, the boy, Claudeson, was smiling. It was a little unnerving, especially with the blood on him. See? Just like her classmates. Perfectly reasonable of them to run away from her. But she won't do the same. Yes, she won't do the same.

"Hi. Um. Are you okay?" she asked. "I'm glad you're, well...alive. Sorry I ignored you for a second there."

[Cicada]

Improvise.

"I'm- we're. We're okay. Claudeson's putting together a group to wait for rescue." He'd already lost one despite his best efforts, but Princess supposed it would be the thought that counted, the shrug's worth of responsibility for Paloma's future turning up on those tacky theatrics their captors broadcast every day, or however that particular bit worked out. Plausible deniability, words to live by, much as any individual sweet-talk phrase could stay the hand of the person shooting the gun.

Princess, given her skill set, had to hope for a great deal of that particular form of leeway. She took a moment to pause, reevaluate, but that was damned hard with the large pair of eyes shoved into her face. Megan's eyes had always been a central point of her visage, a crown jewels to stake her worth on.

Princess stared a second too long, recovered only without her money's worth of dignity.

"Megan," Princess started. Searching, with all her brain's worth of king's horses and king's men. Megan was a china doll. Delicate, so beautiful, so valuable-

Goddamn it, why did it have to be her, why here, why complicating this mess more than it had to be? A moment's pause was Princess swallowing dry dust, forcing her breath to evenness only with difficulty. "You know you don't have to prove anything, to me, to yourself. We will handle this." They had one audience member too many for a moment this intimate- and an infinity more, because the cameras didn't discriminate. Princess had to speak quick, and had to steel herself quicker still. She'd already cried her tears, she'd already let loose her wild heart, she'd already readied herself for her final and most glorious curtain call. She'd already asserted to herself that she did not believe in her peers, that to a man they'd betray her, let her down.

Megan was hope. The worst of all Pandora's evils.

"Shut your brain up for a moment, please. And just trust in me." This, almost whispered. She held her palms up, her elbows crooked a bit out. This, her grimoire code for a hug. Even used with her own girlfriend Violet, as Princess would always be asking for permission, always unsure about whether she herself wanted to express her affection so openly.

All the while, she considered Claudeson with a sideways eye, willowy gaze saying sorry silently as she couldn't quite say it aloud. Princess cared deeply for moments like this, they were the purest climaxes of narrative value, and she wanted no part of disrupting that which was quickly throwing her story arc far and away from where it was supposed to be.

She was sorry she'd been distracted, and if he thought any less of her for this scene it was his own damn problem.

[Cactus]

A small part of Claudeson was disappointed that Paloma hurriedly scurried off into the trees, followed quickly by the odd girl who'd been sitting on the cliffside. The two of them obviously had far too many burdens to want to share with anyone else, and he could understand the fear that came with taking a leap of faith with casual acquaintances. No matter - Claudeson said a prayer for the both of them as he watched them go and then turned his attention back to Megan and Princess - both of whom were having an intriguing exchange with one another. There was evidently some familiarity between them, and he did not want to interrupt the intimate conversation that was as enlightening as it was unexpected. Instead, he stood quietly, Min-jae feeling heavy yet without burden in his hands, and listened.

After a moment, Megan turned to look at him, and apologized for the exclusion, he held up a hand and shook his head, dismissing the need for an apology, though he was conscious of the haunted look she gave him. Ahh, yes. His bleeding nose. Even after half an hour, it still trickled. Claudeson wiped the blood away once more and offered an explanation.

"Please, no apology is necessary. This is a challenging day," even he blinked at his own understatement. "I came upon one of our classmates attempting suicide and I felt obligated to help him."

Claudeson let his facade fall into a bit of a chagrined look. He still believed that had been the right thing to do, but the pounding in his nose was getting tiresome.

"I believe that eventually he will come to appreciate the gift that life is, but at the time, he was rather... unhappy that I stopped him and he lashed out. I hold no malice towards him. Emotions are high right now."

Princess broke in once more, urging Megan to trust her, to allow herself to join with them, to embrace the blanket of safety that they offered. It was an emotional offer, one that surprised him just a little. For someone with the aura of being consistently in control of their emotions, for a moment she seemed truly vulnerable. It felt wrong of him to comment or interject, so he simply watched the performance, allowing himself a moment to feel some envy.

Current circumstances notwithstanding, he wished that he had the ability to control his own feelings as she did. His own mind had been a tempest in recent months, so he was relishing the sense of calm control that he felt right now.

For that alone, he was almost glad they were here.

[Zetsu]

We will handle this, she said.

Then Claudeson broke in, talking to her through the looking glass, as it were, and her skin prickled, uneasy. It was telling her something. It was telling her that a boy shouldn't talk about preventing a suicide as though he were trying to be professional. Something was wrong. Of course everything was wrong, but no, really.

Princess, please.

Trust me, she said.

Megan trusts Princess, she wants to trust Princess. But this isn't enough. Megan knows that she needed to shut her brain up; it's actually doing it that's hard. We will handle this, she had said. Don't bother proving yourself, let us handle this.

Well, it's not like she's wrong, is she? Even if Megan tried to deny it, even if the words running through her head right now are no no no no NO, not this, don't let the island take this, too. Megan supposed that she should be thankful that Princess even still wanted to be friends with her, that their friendship had merely changed, that the only thing lost was trust. As if. Sure, next to all the other deaths on the island, the death of some intangible quality about Megan's friendship with Princess wouldn't merit much more than a tiny violin, but still. Truism: when everything seems to have gone wrong, you can find significance in the smallest things that are still right. Megan was counting on that, and she wouldn't even be given that much.

That dramatic nervous breakdown was looking better and better.

Then she saw the hand gesture, the 'I can't actually do anything more right now but know that I love you' gesture, and she understood. You do what you have to. You do what you can.

Megan let the waterworks flow.

Finally.

[Cicada]

Emotions are high- too bad abstract concepts couldn't kindly jump themselves off a cliff like Anna had been falsely promising. Princess was perpetually in the process of realizing that she was not truly cut of the same cloth as the heroines of the wild frontier, she could not presume herself to belong in the same breath of literary merit as a subject of a Brontë, or a Thoreau, or a Byron. It was part of her long journey- well, her journey now cut anticlimactically short- to rise to the occasion, to be worthy of her own desperate hubris, was it not? This was her lot in life, to improve her lot in life. To turn nothing- a whole damn lot of nothing, so much nothing that 'so much' as a descriptor was meaningless because it was still ultimately nothing- to something of merit.

Nothing concrete to show, so far. She'd had how many years on this Earth? Eighteen too many, give or take the calendar checks around October Seven. She had one vanishing chance, and was about as prepared to take it as not.

Her chance for greatness was no more a reality when she couldn't even scale the barrier of her friend's own pathetic demeanor. But from the get go she'd woken up with that in mind.

Princess absorbed her sobbing friend into herself, reminded all too painfully of her former romantic infatuation- almost grossly obvious, in hindsight- and pain was supposed to be temporary, so it was a bit annoying that it would keep repeating itself like a bad trope.

Oh well. 'Tis what made her human. Unfortunately.

"I feel like-" and the tremble set to Princess' voice, the slight erosion of her airs into the breathy pitch of her more natural voice, that was completely unscripted. Yes, this was no calculated move, much as some part of her conscious still continued to update her grandiose bevy of increasingly unnecessary plans to account for her own breakdown redux. "This will be happening a lot." A weak sniffle, shrill like the screech of tires on pavement. "In the next few days."

Princess finally consciously asserted control over her anguish and kept it to that. Waterworks- she should have been a civil engineer. She nuzzled her cheek into the nest of her friend's hair. A bit warm to stay like this for too long, but Princess had outfits aplenty to keep herself presentable. She supposed this was what a life in the tropics might have felt like on the skin... not how she'd been hoping to experience it.

"Claude... you're sure you're fine?"

[Cactus]

Fine was the operative term, but in the grand scheme of things, the logical centre of Claudeson Bademosi's brain continued to inform him over and over that he was about as far from fine as anyone could be. Yet while logically, he knew he should feel fear, there was a calm sort of serenity to his situation. They were trapped in a monster's evil game, likely about to face horrors the likes of which none of them could comprehend. Most people would react as Megan had, with fear and tears. Why were they here, why must they be so unlucky?

Claudeson didn't feel unlucky. He felt like he was exactly where he needed to be at this very moment. Allowing his hand to tighten around his protector, he looked down at Min-jae with a thoughtful "hm". The crossbow was sleek but obviously well-used. There were scratches and some small wear-and-tear on it, but otherwise it looked to be in perfectly functional condition. Fortune had smiled upon him, a small ray of sunshine shining through the bleak afternoon of his mind. A particular passage came to mind; James 1:17.

Every good gift and every perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of lights with whom there is no variation or shadow due to change.

The heavenly Father had blessed him, given him a protector to wield; to act as a sentinel for those who were unable to protect themselves. This was his purpose, this was what he was here to do. He could not have been more certain.

Claudeson softly smiled, and nodded reassuringly at the two girls, trying to convey the inner strength and serenity that washed over him.

"Yes, I am sure. I feel fine."

[Cicada]

"That makes at least one of us," Princess managed to somberly giggle.

Managed was the wrong word, it was a willful gesture but the hallow laugh was at least fueled by some modicum of spite. Nervous laugh, irritated laugh, came out the same in how they were both clearly artificial. Claude's even-tempered good humor was a glove taken off and smacked into Princess' cheek. He was so blithe, so confident. Did he think himself better than her? She was sure of it, she was being judged for her weakness apparent, and he'd always come off as having a foot in the stirrup of his saddled high horse even at the best of times.

It just meant she had to be a bit stronger still. She was far too mortal for what was to come, but that was what made it interesting. Imagine that, turning her life into the bildungsroman darkly echoed in a twisted and shattered mirror.

She disengaged from Megan with a whispered non-entity. Literally, as sometimes even an incoherent syllable was all that needed saying.

A ghostly smile. Performative, for the others. For herself. She didn't need to be actually strong- not yet, at least. But a little positive reinforcement never hurt. Least of all hurting these idiots she called friends.

"Lets move on, at least. Hopefully Anna and Paloma are safe.. wherever they've ended up."

PRINCESS exits

[Cactus]

Yet another operative word came from Princess' mouth, and yet again Claudeson nodded his agreement with her surface assessment. Let the Heavenly Father guide Anna and Paloma into comfort, if not safety. There was no safety to be had here, on this island. It was difficult for Claudeson to balance his faith, his logic, and his newfound sense of purpose, but for the moment, he managed. He looked at Megan; at Princess. They were his companions now, for better or for worse, and they would march against the Hells as one unit, bound by a flimsy purpose, but eventually, he knew that his own strength would bind them together.

"Indeed. They will be in my prayers; if nothing else that shall have to be enough."

He smiled.

"Let us go."

The sentinel moved on, comforted, confident, and ready.
Liar. ((Claudeson Bademosi continued in Nothing can bring you peace but yourself.))

[Zetsu]

The other two were in agreement. Megan went along.

((Continued in A Nightmare and a Wet Dream))