Face The Sky

[Espi]

((Gwen O'Connor's story continues from Do Not Go Gentle into That Good Night))

The Tower had seemed like a good place to look for someone. If Maynard happened to be in the general area, she'd likely be able to spot him from up there. It was entirely possible that he'd never come anywhere near the airport, but Gwen could hope. It hadn't been to long, and according to the map the hospital where she'd last been with him was fairly close by.

Still, standing and gazing out the windows was made significantly less majestic by the presence of the several-day-old corpse of Aria behind her. It was...not a pretty sight, and Gwen had nearly retched when she'd come in. Now she was used to the smell, but that wasn't entirely pleasing for it's own reasons.

Gwen twirled a lock of her violet hair around her index finger. In her reflection out the window, she could already see the roots. She had been here so long, it was odd. So many people were dead already, yet the lazy pacifist vegetarian goth of all people had made it so far when people like Adonis Alba and Naomi Bell were long-gone. She supposed in a game like SOTF, luck was just as important as skill or intelligence or ruthlessness.

Funny how things worked out like that. Funny and tragic, but funny.

[Espi]

Gwen sighed. This wasn't working; nobody seemed to be anywhere nearby, let alone the person she was looking for. Climbing the tower had ended up a huge bust after all.

It was funny, really. When she'd left the lagoon, she'd been so excited! She was going to find Maynard, keep him safe, figure out a plan or something and save him. She'd been determined, focused, brave, strong, the cool action heroine ready to save her male damsel in distressed. Melodramatic maybe, but that's how she'd felt.

Now she felt like a moron and a weakling. How was she going to find someone on this island? It was huge, miles across and she was going on foot and had no idea where Maynard might end up. He could be anywhere, and she'd be lucky to find him before...

She didn't want him to die. He was a good person, and he was so sweet. He didn't deserve this. Nobody did, but there was nothing she could do about it now. All she had left was her hope that she'd see him one more time.

She hefted her bag and slung it over her shoulder as she descended the tower.

((Gwen O'Connor's story continues in Cantata Mortis))