Survival Of The Fittest

Adonis felt a sudden stab of guilt as he thought about Myles being all on his own and he felt like he had to blame himself as he had been the one to go off on his own for a bit of alone time. But alone time turned into a long time with him and Marco trying to find Myles with no luck in the woods. Maybe it was because Myles was possibly moving around as well and they always missed each other somehow. But now they were both here together.

"Myles... I'm sorry for leaving you like that. I tried to find you again in the woods, but I didn't have any luck. I did see Angie up on the cliffs. She must have followed me without me knowing about it and she said that she wanted to leave. I didn't think that she would have left you as well. I am really sorry, Myles. Really." Adonis said honestly, as he glanced over at the two girls in the sea and he then glanced back at the other boy who was coming closer to him. "Tonya tried to kill you?! Are you hurt anywhere?!"

He stepped right up to Myles and he looked him up and down, trying to see if there were any cuts. Adonis was more or less relieved when he couldn't see any wounds on Myles and he realized that they should possibly leave before the girls got back to shore. Especially Tonya. She sounded like she was bad news and Adonis didn't want to stick around when she managed to get over to where they were. But....

"I should help them, Myles. It looks like they might drown out there."

Who cares? Okay, so it wasn't like Myles was going to stand around and wish for a bucket of popcorn while Tonya and whoever possibly drowned each other in their frenzy out there, but he was kind of going to think about it.

"And what are you going to do if they start trying to kill you instead?" He snapped. God, it was a good thing Adonis was cute and apologetic. If Myles had known he was going to run into Adonis, he probably wouldn't have even bothered with the fake robbery bit. He could have just said he was scared and asked Adonis to hold his hand, and that would have worked out just fine. Aside from the whole let's-ditch-Myles-in-the-woods thing, but still.

Myles's train of thought was momentarily derailed by a black shape washing in on the tide, and with an irritable huff, he stomped back into the shallows to grab his sodden hat and jam it back onto his head. He was already soaking wet, so what difference did it make? "Ugh, we should just get out of here, but do whatever you want. I'm going to get my stuff. Which I found. By myself."

With any luck, the situation would be resolved one way or another before Adonis even got out there, but he was bigger and stronger than either of the girls, so Myles wasn't especially worried about him. He took a moment to compose his face into something softer. "Just... be careful, okay?"

((Tristan O’Hara continued from Could I Leave You?))

In the time since he’d left the wilderness, Tristan had walked without direction or purpose, the map in his bag left untouched. He thought for a moment of heading to the commissary, to see if there were any supplies worth looting, but quickly figured that would have been a common enough thought amongst his peers, and he wasn’t sure if walking into such a potential hubbub was a good idea for the moment, not when he wasn’t yet even sure of a plan or what he wanted to achieve. For the moment, there was just an overwhelming sense of keep going.

So with the only tangible option Tristan had conjured temporarily nixxed, he’d been content to wander and to wonder at his surroundings. It had been a long, long time since he’d been in a place so lush with nature, not since his family had made the move to Chattanooga. He hadn’t often found himself missing New Zealand, but the intermittent chirps of wildlife gave him an odd sense of nostalgia.

Unfortunately, that wasn’t the only emotion flooding through him; try as he might, Tristan still found himself flashing between anger at Nick and those who’d placed them here, a growing heaviness in his heart whenever Beryl and her smile -- oh what a smile she had -- flickered through his mind, and a mounting sense of despair and helplessness. But thankfully, despite the lack of company or even sight of people since he’d left Hel and the others, there had been almost enough to occupy his thoughts away from the numbness that threatened to swamp him.

Tristan’s outfit was decidedly not built for this environment, but there wasn’t anything in his luggage anymore suitable, so he’d instead done his best to find ways to make his attire slightly more practical as he’d walked. He’d removed his hat and bracelets and stuffed them into his bag and shed his rainjacket, carrying it underarm in case he needed it in a hurry. His hair had started to frizz in unison with the island’s increasing humidity, and he’d felt so stifled and uncomfortable in his shirt that he’d completely unbuttoned it; as he’d neglected to wear an undershirt, his chest was left exposed as he walked.

It was when he reached what he assumed was the bay, or thereabouts, that Tristan stumbled upon the first signs of life for far too long. There were a sprinkling of figures peppered amongst the latticework of the pier, and though he was still too far off to get a gauge on who it was and what they were doing, the tension between them remained almost palpable. He paused in his walk, unsure of what to do next; he was still a little bit away from the scene -- close enough that he was sure to catch someone’s eye, yet far enough that he could make a quick exit with little trouble.

Almost absently, he let his hand rest atop the hilt of his blade, still nestled at his hip.

Camila heard it, refused to believe it.

She couldn't swim, simple fact. Camila almost couldn't stand to watch. That being the reason- the pitiable flailing at keeping her head floating like a cork barely cresting out of water. Each second almost swept beneath the froth of the sea without ceremony, a momentous occasion noticed by passerby than forgotten.

That was not Tonya's legacy- that was not Tonya herself.

"Just shut up and let me help you-"

The sting of the ocean barbed eyes and tongue and dripped from her teeth.

"Don't you fucking tell me-"

Another breath nearly washed away. The tide was getting violent- seemingly ignoring the conveniently placed beach, targeting them in particular. Camila ignored her own cold shiver sputtering. One arm gone she was still the one with better grace in the water. The hobble to the cripple. No arms they were just about on even ground- when Camila suddenly lashed out, her fingers hooking around Tonya's for a brief moment, before the grandeur of the motion, the fresh coat of water rebuffed her effort.

"I'll leave when you take that back."

Almost shouted in Tonya's face, and they were barely inches apart.

So, here was the real real rundown on all the shit going down: the last time Tonya had gotten into a fight, an honest to God real-ass fight, not one of those petty-ass white-girl kinda things, she was in the 7th grade, punching out that trifling ho KeKe Baker who evidently thought she was the it girl, when she really was just that girl. Honestly, if you'd have asked her why she did it, why she felt the need to do shit like that, she wouldn't have been able to tell you why. All in the past, dust in the wind.

Still, though even if she couldn't remember why, she certainly could remember how. How it felt to swing that fist, time almost freezing, a shitty little snapshot before fist met face. How the sun seemed to stop in the air, the tears beginning to well up in her eyes almost burning. And finally, how the tiniest feeling of satisfaction made it's way all up to her brain.

Again, as Camila began shouting, her tears began to burn, because, oh yeah, she was meant to be her friend, meant to support her, and yet Camila couldn't seem to leave her broke as fuck hands off of Tonya. That was not good, that was not alright alright, and with her so close and the sun overhead, for one fleeting moment, Tonya was once more transported back into seventh grade.

"I ain't fucking takin' it back."

The fist flew towards Camila's face trying to hit something, anything, searching for a target just as much as Tonya was searching for the blossoming of something better, that cold pride, but she felt nothing. Nothing but the beating rays of the sun, and the stinging of her own tears.

"If they tried to kill me. Well, it's a risk that I'm willing to take and I would fight back. I'm not going to die because of two girls who seem so caught up in their own world right now, Myles." Adonis said simply, watching Myles closely and he listened to all the words that were coming out of his mouth. "Ah, you found your belongings? Good, good, I'm glad you did. ....I won't leave you alone this time, Myles, I swear. So thank you. I'll make sure to be careful and I'll come back to you in a bit."

Adonis then turned to start walking towards the sea with a determined expression on his face and he took off his shirt as he didn't want to get it soaked from the salty water. He put the shirt down onto one of his bags in front of the pier and he turned his head to look around with two cautious eyes. He then noticed another boy that was shirtless and he felt his face heat up a little. He knew that if this was a different situation, he could have gone over and did a bit of flirting with Tristan. But now was not the time for such shenanigans; Adonis had to take things more seriously and he had to help those two girls that were possibly in danger. He knew that he was a strong swimmer, but even he knew that some of the strongest swimmers would end up drowning and that thought was something that he had to keep in mind.

Adonis was possibly a bit too far away from Tristan for him to see Adonis' genuine, non-hostile smile and he raised a hand to wave at him. Then Adonis made sure to get back to his business of helping those two girls out and he made his way into the cold, wet water. He then made sure to check his surroundings as the water was trying to push him back and he glanced towards the pillars where the girls were. Camila and Tonya. He started to front crawl his way with ease towards them and he was hoping that he could help them without any problems-

He saw Tonya punch at Camila as he was stopping near them and he felt his heart jump in fright as he saw Camila going down under the waves. He felt himself moving without realizing it and he went underwater to make his way toward Camila. He managed to grab at one of her arms and he wrapped his other arm around Camila's waist, making himself using his feet strength to push the both of them back up the surface.

Adonis let out a gasp of air and he coughed and stuttered a little, tasting a bit of the saltiness of the sea. He was just glad that he had gotten there in time and that he did not witness someone dying in front of him. He found himself glaring at Tonya for what she did and he was trying not to suddenly lash out his sharp tongue at her in anger. He needed to stay calm in a situation like this and he didn't want to cause something worse to happen.

"...What-What is wrong with you? Why did you do that to her?" He asked Tonya calmly and he didn't move from where he was with his hold on Camila, feeling the water push slightly against him. "This needs to stop. Seriously, I don't understand all this fighting each other and trying to kill each other nonsense."

Honestly, Myles was having second thoughts about Adonis's merit as a partner. There was no point in saying so, and he kept his expression as neutral as possible as Adonis ran off to play hero to the person who had said she wanted to pull Myles's innards out and her incompetent would-be rescuer.

Adonis's wave to someone behind him did catch Myles off-guard, and he spun around to make sure that some other wannabe killer wasn't running at him to make this whole comedy of errors even stupider. Instead, he only needed to take in the hair and the (lack-of) outfit before the first genuine smile he'd put on since waking up yesterday broke out across his face.

"Tristan!" Myles scrambled up the beach towards him, the intent to run back to the pier for his belongings momentarily forgotten. "Tristan, oh my God, I'm so glad to see you!" He didn't care if that was a stupid thing to say, given the situation. He meant it. As soon as he was within launching distance, Myles threw himself bodily at Tristan and latched onto him, wet clothes and the sand clinging to him be damned.

Tristan gingerly took a couple steps forward as his presence was registered by someone on the pier. Was that Adonis waving at him? He hadn’t interacted with boy as much as he’d liked -- and he was cute, he would’ve really liked to interact with him -- to be certain of it, but as his mind tickered through the possibilities it seemed the most likely. But that was all swept away as the second figure turned in his direction.

He adjusted his glasses, not sure if what he was seeing was reality or just a mirage borne of desperation as the pint-sized blur rocketed towards him.

Myles. One of those people he hadn’t wanted to think about, whose name and face he’d locked away as best he could. But he was here now, bedraggled and worse for wear and looking like he’d already been to hell and back, but none of that mattered. He was alive.

He stumbled back a couple steps as Myles launched himself at him, but quickly regained his balance. A surge of emotions blossomed within him, ones that he hadn’t felt since he’d first awoken. Joy. Hope. But throughout it still was that dull, distant, constant ache of knowing what might befall them.

Tristan returned Myles’ embrace, and squeezed even tighter. The discomfort of the sand and brine that coated Myles’ body rubbing against his bare chest barely registered as he held onto him. Just being able to feel his warmth and his heartbeat against his own, something he’d once been so quick to take for granted, now seemed like almost like a fantasy and he needed to be sure it was real.

"I'm glad to see you too," Tristan murmured, his throat tight and his voice suddenly husky.

He had so many questions to ask; about where Myles had been, how the island had treated him so far, what the backstory was to the chaos erupting in the water, but all of that could wait a couple seconds.

Tristan lifted Myles up, leaned forward, and drew him in for a kiss.

Camila might have blacked out when the fist had rattled her skull wrong, might have just been that shocked. It could have been either, didn't matter either way. She sunk like a stone. She observed the water swallow her up. She swallowed some in kind, but it was a futile tit-for-tat. She was drowning, yes, she knew. Funny how quickly things had gone wrong. Again. At some point the sensation of drowning had become familiar, and somehow this washing away into the ocean felt typical.

Big something wrapped around her, bulky mass that held her firm like a bundle. Could have been a sea monster. She briefly squirmed, brought to life by a reminder that she wasn't alone.

She broke the surface, dispelling that illusion soundly. Here she was, once more treading water among all number of unfamiliar faces, lookers on. Her lungs heaved suddenly, a violent protest in reminder of her need for clear airways. An efficiently disgusting spit up, sea water evacuating her along with something brackish that might have been blood. She clawed for air with desperate gasps. Her gaze remained controlled. She stared at Tonya.

Didn't talk to her.

"T-thank you." That, for her savior.

"I- I also don't." She was shivering, she belatedly realized. Her anonymous savior had grabbed the wrong arm. Might have crushed something further in his rush to rescue her. Rescue, odd word. She didn't like the idea of being saved, and that wasn't an idea borne all too suddenly.

"Understand what she's doing-" A watery retch. Nothing came up this time. Camila looked away from Tonya. Her friend dammit. Tonya was her friend.

The world was all silent except for the crunch of Tonya's fist hitting face, crack of of thunder, nothing in her sights except Camila slowly falling under the water, fading into deep blue. No flush of heat in her face, nothing, except for the prickling of somethin' salty trickling down her face into the water. Arms felt like lead, real heavy bitches anchoring her to the very spot.

She closed her eyes and took a deep, shuddering breath in, out, like air squeezing through a sewer grate. She did it, didn't she? Hit a bitch, punched a bitch, maybe even killed a bitch, but all she could find within herself to feel was numbness, even as the droplets from her eyes continued to fall one by one into the water.

Tonya was still breathing like that, tryna keep everything together, when she saw another random sonuvabitch. Saw him grab Camila outta the water, all gallant-like, saw him turn to her and start speaking. Speaking like yet another one of those ladies, the white-ass ones, the ones who thought they knew all the shit, the ones that told her if she just believed in herself all the good shit'd come. Nah, nah, nah, nah.

"You," she rasped, pointing a finger straight up at him, looking him right in the eyes if Cam-the other bitch wasn't even gonna turn her way. "You don't get to fuckin' know me."

Oh, he didn't get it? Oh, he didn't understand? Oh, oh, there was the fire that was missing in the punch, there was the shit that lit all kinds of matches in her head. There now, 'cause of course he didn't know anything. Didn't know what it was like to pop shit out of your pussy that everyone kept on looking at you weird for because oh, you done did bad shit but you were still doing your best, still managing to be less of a mess than some other bitches, didn't know what it meant to look your ma and pa in the eye and see that they person they loved more wasn't you, but the person right next to you, the person clinging onto his arm like a goddamn child.

"Wanna know why you don't get it?" Tossed out, sticks and stones meant to break mental bones because she wanted shit to sting and stay there. "It's 'cause you have nothing to fight for, bitch."

She turned away, breathing, tears still streaming, heat still steaming.

"Swim her the fuck back to shore. I don't care."

Everyone she tried with had ended up dead. Dante, Benny.

Tonya, now. If Camila had ever listened to her own advice, kept her own promises, she'd have kept to herself and eaten alone and slept alone and cried alone and eventually would also have died alone. And that would have been okay.



But instead, she'd ended up watching another friend die. A certain sort of death, where the body stayed dancing on puppet strings after the fact.

Even if Camila could stay she didn't want to. She didn't want to watch the rest of it. The decay. The decomposition of a once proud mother to putrid mush.

"If you make it back to her,"

And they both knew who she was

"You will be dead to her. You're already fighting for nothing." Wasted words, wasted advice. Maybe meant to hurt and to wound and to bleed. Not like Camila even knew what her intent was anymore. She'd once maybe been drawn out of hiding to save a friend, but now... Camila had nothing to do with this. Not any more. Whatever connection they'd had belonged to a different place, and a different time, and to a still small still stumbling child who would never meet her mother or her auntie again.

Because those two were dead. Just like everything else.

"Don't follow me." She wormed her broken arm from the boy's grip, weakly shoved at his chest with her free hand as she swiveled. A moment balanced on the precipice, where she seemed to flail and be vulnerable to some unknown riptide that would yank her away to a death as silent and worthless as she'd turned out to be.

She found her footing, dived beneath the waves with maybe half a good arm's worth of strength. The only value she still had as a person was vanishing from sight. She did her damnedest.

((Camila Cañizares continued elsewhere))

Adonis was trying to process everything that he was hearing in his mind about what both of the girls were saying and he felt himself staring after Camila as she swam away from him. Telling him not to follow her.... Why? He didn't understand, he didn't know anything at all and it felt more and more frustrating to have to try to be the hero. Maybe Marco was right. Was there any point in trying to do the right thing anymore? He was starting to have doubts about trying to do good for people here and he wondered how long he could keep on being himself here. He thought back to what Marco said to him not that long ago and he felt himself missing his presence. Adonis felt like he was lonely on this forsaken island. Not even Myles was a comfort anymore and Adonis felt like he wanted to get away from everything.

He wanted to find Regina. She would know how to make everything better. She tried cheer him up at Prom after that painful break-up with Emmett. He just wanted to get a hug from her and he just wanted to talk to her. Regina had always been a ray of light in his darkest times and he hoped that he would be able to find her. He couldn't let anything happen to her; he didn't want to think about losing his best friend and he didn't know how to feel if he did. Regina was out there somewhere, helping others like the kind person that she was and Adonis felt his heart flutter with happiness at the thought of her doing just that.

Adonis found himself staring back at Tonya and he frowned a little, feeling angry at her for saying that he had nothing to fight for. "I do have something to fight for. My family. My little brother and sister are both who I want to fight for. So I do understand, Tonya. Don't you dare say that you are the only one who is fighting for someone. Because you're not, you selfish cow." Adonis spat out the last part with a bit of pented-up anger and then he turned away from her, making his way back to the island. "Unbelievable. I'm.... sick of all of this. I feel like I'm going to snap at any moment now. But I can't.... Just, just stay positive, Adonis. Everything's going to be okay...."

Adonis was wet now. He picked up his shirt that he left on the sand and he headed over to his bags, sighing softly and panting a little. He found himself glancing over to where Tristan and Myles were and they looked like they were kissing. Adonis wasn't feeling jealous, no, he wasn't, he wasn't feeling more lonely than ever before. Honestly, he was just feeling more and more tired of all of this. He just wanted to go home. He wanted to cry. He wanted to scream. He wanted to be angry at the world. He wanted to kil-

No. He didn't. He didn't want to do that.

Adonis knew that he couldn't leave again. Would Myles even care if he did go...? Tristan seemed like he was a better choice for Myles and Adonis just felt like he was going to be in the way. Would it be so wrong for him to just go and try to do things on his own? He didn't know what was wrong with him. He felt like he was giving up on people too easily now. He also knew about the weapon that Myles had and he knew that he shouldn't have let his curiosity get the better of him. But he had wanted to know about Myles....

Adonis felt himself put a fake smile on his face and he called out to the two boys. "Hey, lovebirds! I'm gonna go and find some shelter! You're both welcome to join me!" He said, then he got his belongings and he started to move away from the pier saying this last bit to himself. "...Or not. I'll be fine on my own. It's... fine."

((Adonis Cohen continued in Staring over Wonderland Wood's))

Myles made a little squealing noise out of habit more than anything else when Tristan lifted him so that his tiptoes were barely touching the sand. A little noise of encouragement, excitement, a little this-is-okay-keep-going. It wasn't something he ought to be doing just minutes after an attempt on his life. He knew that, and he didn't care. He deserved this moment. The universe owed him much, much more, but if this was what it offered for now, he was taking.

"Are you okay?" He asked breathlessly when he pulled back from the kiss. "I mean- no okay that's dumb, but you're not hurt, are you? Are you by yourself? I was with Adonis, but I kind of lost him, but I found him again, but now he's out there being a good person or something- and Tonya attacked me, she's out there too, and someone else-" Myles stopped to suck in a breath. The words kept tumbling out.

"I'm okay. I think I'm okay. It's a long story. I had my stuff stolen but I found some of it, um- up in the woods. Somebody else stole my stuff. Not Tonya. It's on the pier now though. We fell off, and then some other girl jumped in the water, and Adonis went out because they were in trouble, even though I told him it was a bad idea, and- and-"

He needed to stop. Needed to take a step back and get his stories straight. He didn't like lying to Tristan, but he'd already told one story to Adonis and had to stick to it. Even so, he was lucky. This was good. He kicked his legs a bit, wiggling until Tristan got the hint and set him back on the ground. Both feet on the ground, Tristan was here, he'd found his stuff and found Adonis. He'd been attacked, for real, and survived. Heck, his attacker seemed like she might be in worse shape when all was said and done.

Now that he was far away from Tonya's reach, it was hard to even recall the sudden shock and panic he'd felt. That all went back where it belonged, locked away in a neat little box in the back of his mind. The daze from earlier was gone too. Myles was back in control.

It was about time he started having good luck again.

Adonis's voice cut across the beach, and Myles glanced back. The girl who wasn't Tonya was somewhere out of sight. The girl who was Tonya had put herself well outside Myles's realm of caring. He looked back to Tristan as Adonis announced the plan to leave and squeezed Tristan's arms.

"We can talk later. Let's skedaddle."

He laced his fingers into Tristan's on the way to the pier and stayed like that until he was forced to let go.

((Myles Roux continued in Staring over Wonderland Woods))

Tristan had kissed a lot people in his time; some of those kisses had meant a lot, and most of them hadn’t. He’d probably kissed Myles the most, he thought, and it had always been fun and passionate and never savoured, in the knowledge that they would inevitably kiss again and again. But as their lips parted and Tristan’s eyes fluttered open, the sensation that had erupted from this latest embrace was altogether something else entirely.

Myles started to wriggle, and so Tristan relaxed his grip, gently placing him back on the ground. His heart was drumming in his chest, sending a surge of euphoria rushing through him. He hadn’t thought he’d ever get to see Myles again, let alone get to touch him or brush their lips together.

He tried to hold that warm feeling close to him as Myles rattled off a recap of his island misadventures, just in case it was the last time he got to feel this type of way. From what he said, Myles had been through it -- though that was no surprise. Tristan doubted there was anyone here who could claim that they hadn’t. He wanted to dry Myles off and tend to whatever injuries he might’ve sustained and properly catch up, but already those on the pier were dispersing, and there was little time for that now.

Tristan was glad Myles wanted to follow in Adonis’ suit. He’d felt a surge of pity at the dejected tone in the other boy’s voice as he meandered away and had immediately wanted to rush towards him to offer whatever comfort he could. If Myles had tugged him away in the opposite direction, then he’d have had to juggle that wish to provide Adonis support with his burning desire for Myles’ presence, and that was not a dilemma he wanted to solve right now. To not have make a tough decision like that, at least for now, was a luxury he would willingly leap upon.

Tristan reciprocated Myles’ tight grip upon his hand as they left the pier and gradually caught up to Adonis, a slight smile quirking on the edge of his mouth.

Maybe he could actually start doing something now, instead of just retaining his status of ‘passive bystander’ amidst the deluge of pain and heartache around him. He couldn’t save everyone. He couldn’t save Beryl, and he’d barely helped to save Hel. But Myles was here and real and he was someone Tristan cared about and could protect.

Things were looking up.

((Tristan O’Hara continued in Staring over Wonderland Woods))

The bitches left. Drifted off, as they were wont to do.

If she'd felt up to it, maybe she woulda shouted a fuck you, assholes, laughed cause they were probably gonna be all up in each other's sooner or later, horny idiots they were and got back up to shore, cool as cucumber. Would've been nice, easy, relaxed, all good good good.

Instead, she ended up going flat on her back, floating like a dead body, 'cause was that what she was? Just like that little bitch said, that it didn't matter that she was trying, that she was still alive, because she was dead to her? The only person that she knew, she fucking knew, loved her back just as much as she loved them, brown eyes staring back like chocolate drops?

Her head shot back up, just enough, for her to belatedly realize that it was raining, which like, shit, because rain, but also fucking shit because that meant she spent like a helluva long time just feeling sorry for herself as if she were some kinda whiny-ass flop.

She swam towards shore, then, awkward strokes making the journey there hella hard, but the journey was made nonetheless, a cold and soaking girl to cold and soaking bags. There wasn't any grace in how she got the bags onto herself, no grace in her walking back inland, waddling steps.

She didn't need grace. Just guts. All she had at this point, anyways.

((Tonya Collins, continued elsewhere))