Survival Of The Fittest

The beach was still save for the waves.

"Hello.

Hey.

'Sup?

Yo.

Hi.

Hiya.

Hey there.

Howdy."

Too low to be heard more than a few feet away, but if you were close enough it sounded like a chorus of introductions.

"How are you?

What's good?

How you holding up?

Y'all okay?

Where have you been?

You seen anyone else?"

Voices shifting up and down in pitch. Accents all over the place. Confident, petulant, hesitant, weary, smooth, more descriptors than you could count.

"I bet they're already dead.

I don't wanna talk about the 'game.'

No, I have not seen anything.

Yes, I heard gunshots.

Man, nobody's gonna kill anyone.

She shot my friend. I tried to stop it, but..."

The similarities were easier to find if you watched them all come from the same pacing form.

((Blaise D'Aramitz Continued From Dormire))

Too many people would be looking for Blaise D'Aramitz tomorrow morning, and too few of them would understand they had acted in Dante's best interests. The likes of Faith and Camila did little to intimidate them, but if someone like Aurelien or Tyrell caught a glimpse of them it would go, how to be diplomatic, poorly? The men were often too dense for words and too high on their sense of importance to consider anyone else's opinion. It would be best to disappear for awhile, let their anger pool into others. After a few days they would be worn out or dead and they'd probably have some kind of plan. These things had a way of working themselves out.

How to accomplish their disappearing act was simple enough. Drop their accent, change their pitch, adopt a new attitude, mind their body language, all of this was child's play. If they had their resources from home they could spark a full physical as well as social transformation; that would be a little harder here. As loathe as they were to expose themself, the most obvious option was to hide their wig. There couldn't be more than four or five people present who had ever seen them without one here. Give it a few days and they might even have a convincing stubble on their scalp. They could use make-up to distort some features. There was another wig with their surprise for Parker, and one, maybe two sets of colored contacts in their kit. It was fortunate they were unsure which pair would catch his eye most, they might be able to pull this off a few more times with the proper resources. Unfortunately they were still lacking the most important piece; Parker's surprise was far too distinct to let them vanish. Like most of their outfits it was not something most of their classmates would wear on a casual ride home. A desperation measure, perhaps, but no more. Someone would have to make a donation, willingly or no.

Problems for later. They would perfect what was in their immediate control first. Something nasally, a little bit of twang but not enough to stand out among the crowd. Bald-headed and breasts bound once again lent to presenting male, they could lean into that. Carl? Mm, they felt like a Carl. How did Carl speak? "H-hey uh, what're y'all up to out, out here?"

Carl, as it turned out, was nervous. Carl also had an inconvenient tendency to dip into a sort of whiny yelp when trying and failing to speak with conviction. Their new voice echoed out into the night louder than they intended.

((Tomorrow didn't come just yet.))

Katelynne didn't dream. She wasn't sleeping anymore anyway, what with some loony on the beach screeching in the middle of the night.

She watched him for some seconds in the darkness. All he did was pace randomly around the beach talking to himself and getting louder and louder. If this was a trap, this was some weird idea of one; if it wasn't, well it probably wasn't gonna end well if anyone other than Katelynne found him.

She stepped forward with purpose, then another, then another as she trudged through the sand under the late night darkness. "Hey!" she shouted in a hushed tone, still slightly raspy from Quinn's chokehold. She waved her arm as she got closer to the boy; she stopped at a good distance between them, and her hand returned to clutching the duffel bag strap resting over her shoulder.

"Where's the fire? Ya tryna wake everyone up?"

This was less than optimal. 'Carl' was little more than a half-formed phantom; nearly all of their physical appearance was unchanged save for their exposed scalp. It would not be difficult to piece things together with a good look at them. The advantages on their side was that it was dark, and that few accessories distracted from the face like blood. They confirmed the first when it was too dim to make out who was approaching them, but only closer exposure would ensure the second. Running was an option, if a cumbersome one. It might attract more attention, and she would certainly remember it in thee morning. If she could not put the pieces together, though, this could be an opportunity.

Blaise would respond to her remarks flippantly. Sarcasm, an insult, anything along those lines. As had been established though, Carl was a coward and a meek one at that. Shoulders slumped, hands fidgeting nervously in front of their stomach where the approaching girl could see he held no weapons. Eyes darting this way and that without taking anything in. His body swayed with uncertainty as he approached, they wanted her to think that he could fall any minute from now. As he approached they forced him to sniffle. "Sorry, I just, uh, you're cool right? N-no trouble?"

That's when they pitched him forward into the beach, hands covering his face in time to keep sand out of their eyes. The sniveling grew. He didn't not try to rise again. "God, not again, not again..."

"Yeah of course I'm 'cool'! Ain't gonna be cool if ya keep screaming your head off and draw someone with a gun out here!"

And then he pitched himself into the sand and wept.

Wow. This little dogie was losing it. It didn't look like there was no one else out here, and he didn't have anything in his hands so if this wasn't a trap, Katelynne wasn't sure what was up with the theatrics. Then again, everyone at this school back home ran willingly into drama, it felt like.

She took a cautious step forward. Then another, and spoke with a calmer tone. "...I'm sorry. Look, I'm just saying ya can't be-"

She stopped when she saw the browning spatters of blood over his clothes. And then a step back.

She didn't say anything for several moments, just staring at the bald currently faceless blood-splattered boy sobbing into the beach sand in the middle of the night all alone. The grip on her bag strap tightened.

"Uhm... are ya hurt? Or...?"

There was no plan going in. One rarely existed. Events lined up and suddenly a new opportunity presented itself. The hows and whys could be worked out with hindsight but before Blaise behind Carl's eyes there was a chance, infinitesimal and ethereal as it was, at revenge. It almost certainly would not work, they knew that, but the pay off if it did was too tempting to resist. Carl's fingers parted a little, not enough to show his face but enough to make his voice less muffled. He choked, but the words came eventually. "N-not me, uh, I dunno, I don't think she got me...I was with this guy though, and these girls..."

Here he would pick himself up, dust himself off, sit cross legged on the beach. "He was hurt real bad, somebody shot him but they all swore it was an accident. Some of it, uh, I got mindin' his bandages a few hours ago I think, wasn't very good at it...I went to get some air and, and I h-heard this pop. I didn't wanna, y'know, I just c-couldn't believe...I heard 'em arguing, the one, she said the other's name, uh...Camila, I think, she said Camila told her they had to do it for him, he was gonna die anyway, and..."

Blaise willed his neck to turn up and out towards the ocean. There were tears in his eyes. Not theirs. It was just an act, nothing more. "They chased each other off. I thought may, m-maybe I could help him, there was so much blood but I had to try, you've gotta try when you see somethin' like that, right?"

They bit down hard on his lip. Shock to keep them separate. "H-how bad is it? I haven't...I dunno how I got here, man, I was holdin' him and then just, woosh..." A half-hearted hand soared over his head.

Katelynne nodded her head, biting her lip as the boy told his tale. If he was lying, well... it'd be a weird, somewhat specific thing to lie about. Especially when she was gonna find out about this come morning anyway, but more info to fill in the gaps would still be welcome.

Camilla... that name stung a bit, though not sure why. Katelynne didn't really know her other than that she was in the gardening club and played that weird card game and was a bit of a loner but was nice. If what he said was true, well, so much for that.

A step forward. "Nah, I, uh... I understand. I'm sorry you had to see that. At least-"

"At least" what? That he didn't die, like his buddy did?

"...Nevermind."

Another step forward, followed up with a nose scratch as she looked out at the gentle waves. "Quinn tried to choke me to death. Ya know, the basketball girl? Just right in broad daylight, over yander in the woods. I was able to break out because of a couple of girls, but still. This place is changing people already."

Her head hung low for a moment before returning her gaze at the boy just a couple feet away now. Still couldn't get a great look at his face, but his clothes-

Oh, right. She shook her head and proceeded onward while starting to open up the bag. "Yeah, it looks... well, it don't look great. Do you not got no other clothes? You can borrow mine. You don't look that big-"

"...Ya know what I mean."

Let us keep score: test new persona? Successful. Sow distrust of Camila? Successful. Obtain disguise? Pending, soon to be successful. This had been a shockingly profitable encounter, but they did not let that show on his face. It stayed tilted down towards the sand. Pathetic was a good look on him. No one expected the small, quiet boy who couldn't look you in the eye to be a threat.

There were threats already, though. Blaise was surprised that Quinn had it in her; she could hardly talk to a girl before and now she was strangling them. If she'd found that much spine before the trip...ah, no use dwelling on what could have been. They were used to giving her a wide berth as it was, no adjustment was required.

They had left their bags somewhere more secluded, it would be unwise to be caught out in the open with them. Empty hands served their story well enough. "I, I forgot to grab my stuff, I just..., uh, if you got somethin' to spare, that'd be great. I don't really wanna look at..." They threw a shiver in for good measure. Carl seemed like the sort to lose his words often.

"Oh yeah; it's no problem, bud." Katelynne smiled sweetly as she slipped the bag into the sand and groped around in the dark for the spare clothes.

She couldn't find them. But she did find the flashlight, briefly turning it on to just illuminate the inside of the bag. "Sorry, this thing's a mess," she chuckled.

And just like that, she found the tshirt and jean shorts; it might fit a bit wonky on him, but it's better than running around in someone else's blood.

Katelynne coughed, forcing that last thought that came scarily nonchalant to pass as quick as it came.

She turned off the flashlight and quickly bundled the clothes together along with the Gatorade bottle she'd been saving. She hated green apple anyway, and this little guy probably needed that comfort more than she did.

She made the last stretch of steps over to the boy and handed the lumpy ball out to him. "Here ya go, bud. You can give me them back... ya know, whenever."

It would look suspicious to perform inventory. Close examination wasn't necessary to know this was exactly what they were looking for though. A gaudy graphic t-shirt and denim? They were sure they'd expressed preference for death over such an outfit on multiple occasions. If all went as planned no one would ever see them in it though, and Carl had no reputation to risk. It would suit him. If not, they would reconfigure him until it did. Any excuse to focus on him instead of-escape, escape should be their focus now, one that Katelynne would not question. What did she expect of him? He had been polite but skittish, compassionate, naive, shy...mmm, they had something in mind.

Shame was going to be their greatest challenge. They possessed none while Carl held an abundance. Thankfully it was too dark for the effort of forcing a blush to be worth it, they had no idea where to begin. Stuttered thanks and a hand nervously rubbing the back of their head would have to carry intent alone. "Thanks, r-really, I dunno how to...uh, what I'm tryin' to say is...y'know, you been so kind and so uh, well, lady-like if you understand and I can't uh, I can't say it enough but I also wanna...ya figure our folks are gonna see this prolly and if my ma caught me uh...shit, wait no, sorry, shouldn't use that kinda language in fronta, aw fuck I really, I'll be right back okay?"

God, scratch that. They were getting contact embarrassment, how did people live like this? Their face was hot when they tucked the bundle into their chest. An awkward stumble carried them across the beach far, far too slow to outrun the implications held by living in Carl's skin for the next few days. An unpleasant mental occupation, one they were tempted to reject outright like any other whim that displeased them. It could not be discarded so easily. They had nothing else to fill the space. Without this restraint so opposite to their every impulse they would be idle. Alone with their decisions, left to either stew in their anger at a failure whose face they were already forgetting or face the persistent possibility that they had made no mistakes. It was possible that it was all self-made delusions, that anything they felt for him from the moment they woke up was a distraction from their emptiness.

Blaise did not care to consider that possibility. Carl was incapable of conceiving it at all. It passed between them unacknowledged, and like so many similar thoughts they let it fly away. Dozens of regrets had attempted to haunt them, so Blaise had come to personify their relationship with insecurity as one of hunter and prey. As long as they were faster, smarter, quieter, they did not need to see where it was coming from or where it went. If they dodged it well enough it would be gone, and they would not need to consider it any further. They refused to consider that any single instance might linger. It made a certain sort of sense. If you saw only movement without arc, it was simple enough to mistake a landing for a dive. If you saw only feathers without form, it was simple enough mistake a vulture for a hawk. If you saw only the ground without the sky, it was simple enough to mistake a circling flock for a single, persistent creature.

One, a dozen, a hundred, ten thousand, some infinite stretch of mistakes and mishaps waiting to scavenge their bones clean, it made no difference as long as they never stopped. In both mind and body, Blaise kept moving forward.

((Blaise d'Aramitz Continued In A Nightmare And A Wet Dream))

"Oh-okay, be careful?" Katelynne called out to the boy who hightailed it outta there as soon as she handed him the bundle of clothes. Her smile quickly faded into a confused frown as he escaped her line of sight for parts unknown.

It really was school all over again, people ghosting as soon as they got something outta her. Though this fella sounded easily spooked, so she could forgive him this once.

Still though.... she barely got a proper glimpse of his face when he took the clothes. He looked vaguely familiar, but at the same time she couldn't recall any other bald guys besides the gross football player. She really shoulda paid more attention to her peers, but can't be helped at this point.

Oh well. Worse things to worry about. Like how she forgot to press for more details about Camilla and the other girl and boy he was with.

Katelynne huffed and cross her arms. Maybe he would come back soon.

So she waited.

And waited.

And waited.

And waited.

...He probably wasn't coming back.

She kicked sand with her foot before zipping and picking up the duffel bag. She gave one last look out at the sea before heading back to the hidey hole she found.

((She was gonna try to sleep again.))