((Garren Mortimer continued from Undulation Nation))
Christ, running sucked.
Like, seriously, who in their right mind would actively do this for fun? How badly did you have to hate yourself in order to willingly go outside and push your body to the point it felt like you’d been on the fucking rack? That was all treadmills were, just modern day, electric torture devices. If you were just running to exercise and shit, sure, that was a little more understandable, but wasn’t there some sorta powder or whatever you could eat that’d make you shit out all the bad stuff inside of you? And if you were straight up running for fun, then Garren didn’t know what the fuck to say to you.
Add running to the list of reasons why the great outdoors was bullshit, right underneath camping.
He guessed his priorities were kinda wack, huh? Just managed to escape being shot at, and here he was, like the lonely 4chan nerd he was, complaining about basic exercise. It helped, honestly. He could still hear the sound of bullets thudding into the sound around him, and every branch that whipped over his head sent his heart into overdrive, feeling and sounding just like a bullet passing millimetres above his scalp. Focusing on talking shit internally, rather than on his near-death experience, yeah, that helped a fuck ton.
The announcements also started to play whilst he was running. Part of him knew he’d regret not hearing who he should be avoiding like the goddamn plague in the long run, but right now, he was thankful that the voice in his head was louder than the voice from the speakers, telling everyone who’d been brutally, horribly murdered.
It didn’t take long before Garren’s severe aversion to exercise caught up with him, though. He’d only been running for around 5 minutes, maybe 7 to be generous, but his legs already felt like jelly and he was gasping for air. His beleaguered body slowed down to a speed just faster than a crawl, until finally he collapsed to the ground on his hands and knees, taking in huge gulps of oxygen, sweat dripping from his hair and onto the back of his hands.
Through his heavy breathing, something in Garren’s brain noted that he couldn’t hear any of the telltale sounds of seagulls or the tide going in and out, and that the humidity had suddenly ramped up like woah, wrapping around him like a particularly heavy blanket. He let out a breathless laugh as he started to get back to his feet. Yeah, this had to be way the fuck away from the beach now. Not bad, considering he had what felt like two tons of Fuck strapped to his back.
He closed his eyes as he stood up, hands still on his knees, taking a few more deep, steady breaths. Then he opened his eyes again, and found himself face to face with what looked like a tree stump somebody had nailed to another tree, and then thrown up on.
“... The fuck?”
Garren frowned at the vomit-log, slowly turning around to look back the way he’d come from, reaching into his bag to grab another bottle of water as he did so. Now that he wasn’t fleeing for dear life, he could see that there was a whole bunch of other weird stuff decorating the trees and bushes and other flora around this area. A collection of bells and chimes strung between branches. One single shoe, placed in the middle of a small clearing and painted bright red. A bench with symbols and figures carved into it.
He was just about to audibly wonder if he was in some horrible fucked up fever dream, when he realised he was totally alone, and his heart started to sink.
Had Katelynne made it out of the beach alive?
She didn’t mean anything to him, all things taken into account. She was just someone who’d been too weird to even make fun of, that he’d run into on the beach and who had been pretty chill to him. Even with his newfound drive to just be better, he wasn’t gonna lose sleep over getting separated. It’d suck, but hey, it happened.
If she’d been gunned down behind him, and all he’d done was just run away and not look back, and he’d just left her there to bleed out, on the other hand…
"KATE-"
Garren started to call out her name, before it caught midway in his throat, a strangled, choking sound replacing the second syllable. Dumbass. Like, actually, totally, braindead stupid move, there. He knew people had started to play, that people with guns were using them willy-fucking-nilly. And here he was, standing out in the open, making as big a target of himself as he could?
"-lynne?"
Way better. Anybody’d be lucky to have you as a partner, shitheel.
no garren there will be no cbt on my murder island
Open - Day 2, after the announcements - I am sorry!
no garren there will be no cbt on my murder island
"bryony and alba would definitely join the terrorists quote me on this put this quote in signatures put it in history books" - Cicada Days, 2017
(("Right behind ya! I ain't dead yet!" Katelynne panted, slowly coming to a stop after Garren came clearly into view again for the first time in several minutes.))
Pant.
Pant.
Her hands dug into her knees as she stood bent over, trying to catch both her breath and Garren. If she had anything left in her stomach she probably woulda thrown up right there on the spot.
But she kept it in and trudged further past the slab of wood painted pink and yellow suspended in the air and the tree carving of some sorta weird naked lady. And then there Garren was, all sweaty and greasy as usual chugging a bottle of water down.
She threw her bag down next to some tree with a buncha bells and whistles and did the same.
"Tell ya what," she said while taking intermittent gulps of air and water. "I'm getting real tired of this shit."
Pant.
Pant.
Her hands dug into her knees as she stood bent over, trying to catch both her breath and Garren. If she had anything left in her stomach she probably woulda thrown up right there on the spot.
But she kept it in and trudged further past the slab of wood painted pink and yellow suspended in the air and the tree carving of some sorta weird naked lady. And then there Garren was, all sweaty and greasy as usual chugging a bottle of water down.
She threw her bag down next to some tree with a buncha bells and whistles and did the same.
"Tell ya what," she said while taking intermittent gulps of air and water. "I'm getting real tired of this shit."
((Oliver Lacroix continued from before the day is done, my prince is gonna come))
Oliver gave a deep sigh, dragging his hand slowly down his face. The announcements confirmed what he already knew, Chris was dead. Of course, nobody could have survived having their throat ripped out like that, but...
He shook his head, not wanting to continue with that thought. His mind had spent enough time replaying the scene over the course of the previous night, and his body was now currently paying the price for doing that instead of sleeping. The adrenaline had long since worn off, and his limbs now felt like they were made of lead. He was just about to light up a smoke before his trudging was interrupted by loud yelling coming from further into the exhibition.
His hands slowly slipped into his pocket as he crept towards the sound, the fingers closing around the handle of the blade. He wasn't exactly sure what he would do with it once he found the source of the noise, but one thing was for sure: he wasn't going to be taken unawares this time. Nobody was going to tear his throat out without warning...
Unfortunately for him, his focus on his hands and ears meant that he wasn't exactly focusing where his feet were going. Before long, Oliver felt his foot make contact with a large branch, breaking it in half with a loud snap. He stopped and looked around in a panic, hoping that nobody heard him, before his eyes finally settled on the pair of students hanging out within visual range near a couple weird wood carvings.
He swore under his breath. Let's hope this worked out better than last time...
Oliver gave a deep sigh, dragging his hand slowly down his face. The announcements confirmed what he already knew, Chris was dead. Of course, nobody could have survived having their throat ripped out like that, but...
He shook his head, not wanting to continue with that thought. His mind had spent enough time replaying the scene over the course of the previous night, and his body was now currently paying the price for doing that instead of sleeping. The adrenaline had long since worn off, and his limbs now felt like they were made of lead. He was just about to light up a smoke before his trudging was interrupted by loud yelling coming from further into the exhibition.
His hands slowly slipped into his pocket as he crept towards the sound, the fingers closing around the handle of the blade. He wasn't exactly sure what he would do with it once he found the source of the noise, but one thing was for sure: he wasn't going to be taken unawares this time. Nobody was going to tear his throat out without warning...
Unfortunately for him, his focus on his hands and ears meant that he wasn't exactly focusing where his feet were going. Before long, Oliver felt his foot make contact with a large branch, breaking it in half with a loud snap. He stopped and looked around in a panic, hoping that nobody heard him, before his eyes finally settled on the pair of students hanging out within visual range near a couple weird wood carvings.
He swore under his breath. Let's hope this worked out better than last time...
-
Frozen Smoke
- Posts: 513
- Joined: Mon Aug 13, 2018 3:50 pm
((Parker_Green - Day 2 - 11:15 Local Time - Entering from Strategic Realism))
By the time that Parker realised he'd been turned around and going in exactly the opposite direction from where he'd headed in order to get away from Tyrell, it was too late to turn back, and he'd pressed deeper into the woodlands. He hadn't needed to check his map to figure out where he was, the signposts pointing him in that direction, slowly turning from accurate directions of where to go, to just different caricatured faces or words told you the emotion to expect. It was annoying, but not indecipherable, and if you were heading in a direction - Nothing was stopping you just crashing through the underbrush in that direction.
It had made his walk slow though, and the cramping in his leg wasn't helping either. It had been aching all morning, but with a normal, muscle tired ache. Now it was a sharp pain, in the top of his calf, even after stretching it out a bit. He needed to rest. Somewhere shrouded near the east side of the Art Exhibition, Parker ate. A full day of food down now, having skipped breakfast on the first day. That left him with two, maybe three more days, before he was going to be stone cold dry. His water was going to go well before that though, having drunk two bottles yesterday. There was a chance he could find a source of fresh water on the island, but that would need to be later today, if he wanted to be able to drink the day of.
The sounds of footsteps, then voices, different ones pricked his attention. He didn't recognise them, at first, as he picked himself up. They were only about 30 metres away, but practically a mile of exhibit tangled mess laid between them, but it made sense to check out who it was. If people decided to come to him, rather than force him to move out of a better schelling point later, and waste another day - Well, even if they might be threats, facing them off immediately was better than trying not to get caught in this place.
He pushed his way through the thick cover of a few trees in front of him, eventually walking out from behind a painting to see the two of them, one of them sparking just a fraction of recognition. Garren, who he sort of knew by proxy, through Demetri. Not that they'd ever met, he was pretty sure, but the #MENINIST cap was about as big of a tip-off as he could get. Still, given that he'd just talked with someone who'd comitted double homicide, bad takes barely registered as a negative trait at this point.
"Yo, nerds." he said, as he tried to get their attention for a moment, his voice relatively neutral. "Anyone after you, or what?"
By the time that Parker realised he'd been turned around and going in exactly the opposite direction from where he'd headed in order to get away from Tyrell, it was too late to turn back, and he'd pressed deeper into the woodlands. He hadn't needed to check his map to figure out where he was, the signposts pointing him in that direction, slowly turning from accurate directions of where to go, to just different caricatured faces or words told you the emotion to expect. It was annoying, but not indecipherable, and if you were heading in a direction - Nothing was stopping you just crashing through the underbrush in that direction.
It had made his walk slow though, and the cramping in his leg wasn't helping either. It had been aching all morning, but with a normal, muscle tired ache. Now it was a sharp pain, in the top of his calf, even after stretching it out a bit. He needed to rest. Somewhere shrouded near the east side of the Art Exhibition, Parker ate. A full day of food down now, having skipped breakfast on the first day. That left him with two, maybe three more days, before he was going to be stone cold dry. His water was going to go well before that though, having drunk two bottles yesterday. There was a chance he could find a source of fresh water on the island, but that would need to be later today, if he wanted to be able to drink the day of.
The sounds of footsteps, then voices, different ones pricked his attention. He didn't recognise them, at first, as he picked himself up. They were only about 30 metres away, but practically a mile of exhibit tangled mess laid between them, but it made sense to check out who it was. If people decided to come to him, rather than force him to move out of a better schelling point later, and waste another day - Well, even if they might be threats, facing them off immediately was better than trying not to get caught in this place.
He pushed his way through the thick cover of a few trees in front of him, eventually walking out from behind a painting to see the two of them, one of them sparking just a fraction of recognition. Garren, who he sort of knew by proxy, through Demetri. Not that they'd ever met, he was pretty sure, but the #MENINIST cap was about as big of a tip-off as he could get. Still, given that he'd just talked with someone who'd comitted double homicide, bad takes barely registered as a negative trait at this point.
"Yo, nerds." he said, as he tried to get their attention for a moment, his voice relatively neutral. "Anyone after you, or what?"
Criticism or thoughts on my writing are welcome and appreciated - always looking to improve! Feel free to poke me on Discord or via PM.
“Aw, thank fuck.”
Y’know, he’d meant to keep that one to his thoughts and say something else, something… cooler, he guessed. But his relief to see Katelynne again just slipped out, and hey, what was he even complaining about, really? She’d probably feel pretty damn grateful that someone wasn’t shooting at her, and was, in fact, happy to see her alive. Sweaty and exhausted, sure, but alive.
Wasn’t like she could get greasier than he was currently feeling, anyways. Jesus. He was used to skipping showers for days on end, but this was taking the piss.
Garren gave Katelynne a smile, one that he hoped looked relieved rather than ‘fucking creepy’, wiping another layer of sweat from his brow and taking a deep swig of water, as he felt his heartrate start to slow back to its normal speed again. All things considered? Hadn’t been the worst time he’d ever had on a beach. Sure, he’d had a sword and a gun pointed at him, but he’d gotten out without even a scratch, hadn’t he? And he’d gained a sorta-maybe-hopefully ally from it, too, one similarly unscathed. And - Well. Hmm. Fuck. He didn’t know what had happened to Angie. He hoped she was okay too. She had gone and tried to fend off whoever had been shooting at them all.
Maybe if he thought really really hard that she was okay, she actually would be. Yeah, great fucking joke. He’d been dreaming every night about getting laid back at school, and fat fucking chance that was ever gonna happen.
“Yeah, me fucking too. I’m - Wait…”
Garren was on the verge of asking Katelynne whether this meant that, holy shit, that wasn’t the first firefight she’d been a part of, when the telltale sound of somebody stepping on dry wood stopped his voice dead in its tracks, cutting through the relative silence, and making him spin around faster than he thought humanly goddamn possible.
His breath caught in his throat, and he desperately tried to swallow, as he squinted and looked into the undergrowth, keeping quiet and searching for the intruder. With any luck, it was just some shitty idiot animal wandering about. He’d seen what had looked like some kinda deer whilst walking through the woods earlier, after all.
Before he could get more than a cursory glance, though, there was more rustling, more snapping of twigs and crushing of leaves underfoot, and Garren jumped out of his skin, spinning round again to face the other newcomer, grabbing the pickaroon handle and swinging it around to point it at them.
It looked incredibly cool, and badass, and brave. At least, it would have, if the tool hadn’t slipped out of his sweat-slick hands, flying off into a bush a few feet away. Garren stared at the shrubbery for a few seconds, then up at the person standing in front of him.
Well. At least he hadn’t screamed.
And at least this newcomer didn’t look like they were about to start shit, even though they did have a wicked looking axe that put Garren’s weapon to shade. Parker was… fine. Y’know? Kinda weird and hard to talk to occasionally, had awful taste in video games, and Garren was preeetty sure they’d shared an online forum for a few weeks before he’d been banned from it, but aside from that, yeah. Nothing really for Garren to dislike the dude for. Nothing for him to make fun of with Demetri, either. A solid B on the ‘decent dude’ scale.
“Fucking hell, yeah, Christ, we’re fine, Parker, you just scared the piss outta me-”
Not literally. Seriously. Seriously!
“-but, yeah. We’re okay. Someone was, uh, fucking shooting at us earlier, but I think we’re clear.”
He spun round again, facing the direction he’d heard the branch snap, raising his voice and trying real fucking hard not to sound scared, again.
“So, like, if whoever the fuck is hiding out there is thinking of shooting us again, I’m gonna be real fucking pissed off!”
Y’know, he’d meant to keep that one to his thoughts and say something else, something… cooler, he guessed. But his relief to see Katelynne again just slipped out, and hey, what was he even complaining about, really? She’d probably feel pretty damn grateful that someone wasn’t shooting at her, and was, in fact, happy to see her alive. Sweaty and exhausted, sure, but alive.
Wasn’t like she could get greasier than he was currently feeling, anyways. Jesus. He was used to skipping showers for days on end, but this was taking the piss.
Garren gave Katelynne a smile, one that he hoped looked relieved rather than ‘fucking creepy’, wiping another layer of sweat from his brow and taking a deep swig of water, as he felt his heartrate start to slow back to its normal speed again. All things considered? Hadn’t been the worst time he’d ever had on a beach. Sure, he’d had a sword and a gun pointed at him, but he’d gotten out without even a scratch, hadn’t he? And he’d gained a sorta-maybe-hopefully ally from it, too, one similarly unscathed. And - Well. Hmm. Fuck. He didn’t know what had happened to Angie. He hoped she was okay too. She had gone and tried to fend off whoever had been shooting at them all.
Maybe if he thought really really hard that she was okay, she actually would be. Yeah, great fucking joke. He’d been dreaming every night about getting laid back at school, and fat fucking chance that was ever gonna happen.
“Yeah, me fucking too. I’m - Wait…”
Garren was on the verge of asking Katelynne whether this meant that, holy shit, that wasn’t the first firefight she’d been a part of, when the telltale sound of somebody stepping on dry wood stopped his voice dead in its tracks, cutting through the relative silence, and making him spin around faster than he thought humanly goddamn possible.
His breath caught in his throat, and he desperately tried to swallow, as he squinted and looked into the undergrowth, keeping quiet and searching for the intruder. With any luck, it was just some shitty idiot animal wandering about. He’d seen what had looked like some kinda deer whilst walking through the woods earlier, after all.
Before he could get more than a cursory glance, though, there was more rustling, more snapping of twigs and crushing of leaves underfoot, and Garren jumped out of his skin, spinning round again to face the other newcomer, grabbing the pickaroon handle and swinging it around to point it at them.
It looked incredibly cool, and badass, and brave. At least, it would have, if the tool hadn’t slipped out of his sweat-slick hands, flying off into a bush a few feet away. Garren stared at the shrubbery for a few seconds, then up at the person standing in front of him.
Well. At least he hadn’t screamed.
And at least this newcomer didn’t look like they were about to start shit, even though they did have a wicked looking axe that put Garren’s weapon to shade. Parker was… fine. Y’know? Kinda weird and hard to talk to occasionally, had awful taste in video games, and Garren was preeetty sure they’d shared an online forum for a few weeks before he’d been banned from it, but aside from that, yeah. Nothing really for Garren to dislike the dude for. Nothing for him to make fun of with Demetri, either. A solid B on the ‘decent dude’ scale.
“Fucking hell, yeah, Christ, we’re fine, Parker, you just scared the piss outta me-”
Not literally. Seriously. Seriously!
“-but, yeah. We’re okay. Someone was, uh, fucking shooting at us earlier, but I think we’re clear.”
He spun round again, facing the direction he’d heard the branch snap, raising his voice and trying real fucking hard not to sound scared, again.
“So, like, if whoever the fuck is hiding out there is thinking of shooting us again, I’m gonna be real fucking pissed off!”
"bryony and alba would definitely join the terrorists quote me on this put this quote in signatures put it in history books" - Cicada Days, 2017
Katelynne returned Garren's awkward and slightly creepy smile with a downtrodden one of her own that quickly morphed back into neutral before she finished chugging the bottle of water.
She said she wasn't mad about Quinn before, but ya know what? She was; in fact, she couldn't tell if she was madder over the getting choked out part, the getting shot at part, or just the getting peeped at part for God knew how long. What the hell did Katelynne ever do to her?
She crushed the bottle and lobbed it at the hanging slab. Watching the plastic rebound off of it and cause it to spin ever so slightly made her feel somewhat better, but if there came an opportunity to kick or tip something over in the next couple of minutes she wouldn't pass it up.
She buried her head in her gross and sweaty arms. Garren started to say something before being cut off by what sounded like a branch snapping a short ways away. Katelynne shot up off the duffel bag and placed herself on the other side of the tree away from the noise.
It didn't matter anyway, since someone else came wandering in. Garren reached for his axe thing, only for Mr. Butterfingers to launch it into orbit in one of the bushes. Katelynne cringed, resisting the urge to sigh like that would've helped any if they were about to get murdered again.
The mystery guest was Parker; Katelynne returned his question with an always friendly stare directly through the eyes. She didn't know him too well, but she was kinda glad to have never had to really interact with him. Katelynne never believed in auras and that kinda magic mumbo-jumbo, but she always felt some weird sort of darkness surrounding him. Not like Garren's; something more dangerous, but she could never put a finger on why that was.
He hadn't tried to murder her twice at least, so he was above the bar for now though she would keep her distance.
While the two boys exchanged pleasantries Katelynne sneaked over and retrieved Garren's thing, handing it back to give him a much needed second chance.
"Swear to God this better not be Quinn again," she whispered to both Garren and to herself.
She said she wasn't mad about Quinn before, but ya know what? She was; in fact, she couldn't tell if she was madder over the getting choked out part, the getting shot at part, or just the getting peeped at part for God knew how long. What the hell did Katelynne ever do to her?
She crushed the bottle and lobbed it at the hanging slab. Watching the plastic rebound off of it and cause it to spin ever so slightly made her feel somewhat better, but if there came an opportunity to kick or tip something over in the next couple of minutes she wouldn't pass it up.
She buried her head in her gross and sweaty arms. Garren started to say something before being cut off by what sounded like a branch snapping a short ways away. Katelynne shot up off the duffel bag and placed herself on the other side of the tree away from the noise.
It didn't matter anyway, since someone else came wandering in. Garren reached for his axe thing, only for Mr. Butterfingers to launch it into orbit in one of the bushes. Katelynne cringed, resisting the urge to sigh like that would've helped any if they were about to get murdered again.
The mystery guest was Parker; Katelynne returned his question with an always friendly stare directly through the eyes. She didn't know him too well, but she was kinda glad to have never had to really interact with him. Katelynne never believed in auras and that kinda magic mumbo-jumbo, but she always felt some weird sort of darkness surrounding him. Not like Garren's; something more dangerous, but she could never put a finger on why that was.
He hadn't tried to murder her twice at least, so he was above the bar for now though she would keep her distance.
While the two boys exchanged pleasantries Katelynne sneaked over and retrieved Garren's thing, handing it back to give him a much needed second chance.
"Swear to God this better not be Quinn again," she whispered to both Garren and to herself.
Oliver sighed as heard the calls coming from the group, which had almost instantly seemed to have gained another member. Running was an option, but he had already committed to approaching them, so… fuck it.
He took his hands out of his pockets as he approached the trio, raising them tentatively over his head as his eyes gave them a suspicious once-over. The three of them looked like, well, nerds, honestly. If it was just him against one of them, he could easily take them, but while outnumbered, let's just say he didn't like his odds.
Still, none of them looked like they were holding any guns, which was somewhat comforting, though not as comforting as it could have been considering this was a place where people were ripping each others' goddamn throats out with their teeth.
Oliver swallowed hard as the image of Chris' untimely demise forced its way back into his mind. He felt his chest tighten as a fierce wave of anxiety washed over his body. The next few seconds felt like an eternity as he fought to regain his composure, desperate not to show any weakness to the onlookers.
Thankfully, despite everything, he still managed to put on what he thought was something of a brave face. Flashing a smile, he gave a bit of a wave to the other students, forcing a bit more confidence into his voice than was possibly warranted.
"Hey, how are you all doing on this fine day?"
Humour may not have been the best option here, but, hell, it was a lot better than crying.
He took his hands out of his pockets as he approached the trio, raising them tentatively over his head as his eyes gave them a suspicious once-over. The three of them looked like, well, nerds, honestly. If it was just him against one of them, he could easily take them, but while outnumbered, let's just say he didn't like his odds.
Still, none of them looked like they were holding any guns, which was somewhat comforting, though not as comforting as it could have been considering this was a place where people were ripping each others' goddamn throats out with their teeth.
Oliver swallowed hard as the image of Chris' untimely demise forced its way back into his mind. He felt his chest tighten as a fierce wave of anxiety washed over his body. The next few seconds felt like an eternity as he fought to regain his composure, desperate not to show any weakness to the onlookers.
Thankfully, despite everything, he still managed to put on what he thought was something of a brave face. Flashing a smile, he gave a bit of a wave to the other students, forcing a bit more confidence into his voice than was possibly warranted.
"Hey, how are you all doing on this fine day?"
Humour may not have been the best option here, but, hell, it was a lot better than crying.
-
Frozen Smoke
- Posts: 513
- Joined: Mon Aug 13, 2018 3:50 pm
Parker supposed he couldn't fault Garren for being scared, or the girl that had followed him here, given what they'd apparently just gone through. He'd flinched a little as the wooden shaft of something went sailing through the air, but relaxed as it ended up simply finding itself embedded in the greenery, rather than launched at his head. It ended up being fished out by the girl and handed back to Garren as he continued to speak, as he decided to threaten the bush, with seeming certainty that someone else was out there.
Someone indeed was there. A rather tense looking someone as they came out of their view, but another someone he could put a name to, Oliver. He played poker, not that they'd ever ended up playing against one another as far as he could remember, but that association was enough to remind him of the boys name. He had to give it to Garren, his senses were at least on point, or his gut instinct at least. Still, that added one extra person, one extra factor to pay attention to as he tried to rest.
He shrugged his bag off of his shoulder, letting it down the ground beside one of the trees, taking his eyes away from Oliver as he answered his question with a nonchalant tone.
"Just chilling."
Parker pulled himself into a sitting position, axe by his left side as he leaned his back against the tree, looking over the three of them. He tried his best to look, and sound sympathetic as he continued, voice softening.
"Sure there's plenty people out there who're doing worse, at least."
Someone indeed was there. A rather tense looking someone as they came out of their view, but another someone he could put a name to, Oliver. He played poker, not that they'd ever ended up playing against one another as far as he could remember, but that association was enough to remind him of the boys name. He had to give it to Garren, his senses were at least on point, or his gut instinct at least. Still, that added one extra person, one extra factor to pay attention to as he tried to rest.
He shrugged his bag off of his shoulder, letting it down the ground beside one of the trees, taking his eyes away from Oliver as he answered his question with a nonchalant tone.
"Just chilling."
Parker pulled himself into a sitting position, axe by his left side as he leaned his back against the tree, looking over the three of them. He tried his best to look, and sound sympathetic as he continued, voice softening.
"Sure there's plenty people out there who're doing worse, at least."
Criticism or thoughts on my writing are welcome and appreciated - always looking to improve! Feel free to poke me on Discord or via PM.
Katelynne placed the pickaroon back into Garren’s hands, and he mumbled out a “Thanks” as he wrapped his hands around the handle, before unwrapping them, wiping the sweat off of his palms onto his jeans, and then taking a firm hold of his axe-thing once again. He felt a whole bunch braver wielding it than he did armed with just his wits and his dick, neither of which were exactly what you’d call impressive. It didn’t make him feel, like, three times as brave or anything like that; three times zero was still jack fucking shit, after all. More like… +5 to Bravery. Wasn’t much, but it was a start.
And it turned out that this tiny modifier to being brave was all he needed to face the figure emerging from the bushes. Oliver was a dickhead, as far as Garren was concerned. Or, at least, how the Garren everyone knew about was concerned. A dime-a-dozen party kid, who thought he was just so cool because he knew a few card games and had a flash car, and was easy to get along with and good looking in that rogueish sorta way. Fuck him, right?
Garren had always kinda wished he could be more like Oliver, in another life, in another time, so he’d managed to keep the dude out of Demetri and his own crosshairs. And, thankfully, it looked like Oliver wasn’t pointing his own crosshairs Garren’s way now. Literally. With a gun. He wasn’t trying to shoot Garren, that was the joke.
Garren nodded in greeting as the two other boys exchanged pleasantries, but something had caught his attention from a few moments back, and his brain was focused on rewinding and replaying it, rendering the outside world nothing more than a faint, hazy otherness. Katelynne had pretty much answered his question before he could ask it; no, their misadventures at the beach hadn’t been the first firefight she’d been a part of, or, at the very least, the first fight.
But there was something more than that. The name Katelynne had mentioned, offhandedly, was sticking in his brain, and he was trying desperately to figure out why. Did he know a Quinn? Was there a Quinn at George Hunter? He thought there might have been a younger student called Quinn, cause he definitely remembered someone with that name who was much younger, and-
Oh no.
Everything clicked, all at once, and Garren spun round to stare at Katelynne, pickaroon almost flying out of his hands again, his eyes wide and his face suddenly very pale.
“Quinn Abert has a fucking gun???”
And it turned out that this tiny modifier to being brave was all he needed to face the figure emerging from the bushes. Oliver was a dickhead, as far as Garren was concerned. Or, at least, how the Garren everyone knew about was concerned. A dime-a-dozen party kid, who thought he was just so cool because he knew a few card games and had a flash car, and was easy to get along with and good looking in that rogueish sorta way. Fuck him, right?
Garren had always kinda wished he could be more like Oliver, in another life, in another time, so he’d managed to keep the dude out of Demetri and his own crosshairs. And, thankfully, it looked like Oliver wasn’t pointing his own crosshairs Garren’s way now. Literally. With a gun. He wasn’t trying to shoot Garren, that was the joke.
Garren nodded in greeting as the two other boys exchanged pleasantries, but something had caught his attention from a few moments back, and his brain was focused on rewinding and replaying it, rendering the outside world nothing more than a faint, hazy otherness. Katelynne had pretty much answered his question before he could ask it; no, their misadventures at the beach hadn’t been the first firefight she’d been a part of, or, at the very least, the first fight.
But there was something more than that. The name Katelynne had mentioned, offhandedly, was sticking in his brain, and he was trying desperately to figure out why. Did he know a Quinn? Was there a Quinn at George Hunter? He thought there might have been a younger student called Quinn, cause he definitely remembered someone with that name who was much younger, and-
Oh no.
Everything clicked, all at once, and Garren spun round to stare at Katelynne, pickaroon almost flying out of his hands again, his eyes wide and his face suddenly very pale.
“Quinn Abert has a fucking gun???”
"bryony and alba would definitely join the terrorists quote me on this put this quote in signatures put it in history books" - Cicada Days, 2017
The bush shaked with suspense, but instead of a murderer popping out it was.... well, something maybe only slightly not as worse.
Now maybe Katelynne was just square and lame and never engaged in any fun vices other than getting sneaked a mimosa on her birthday a couple of months back, but people like Oliver she just... don't know, "bad boys" were bad boys for a reason. Boys like that were just boys and had the personality of a dollar bill left in a pair of pants that got thrown in the wash.
Admittedly Garren was probably the most trustworthy fellow here, and that was saying a lot.
She watched Oliver and Parker exchange words, and Garren suddenly spun around and looked her dead in the eyes in a cold sweat.
"W-what?" She asked.
The ground quaked, the trees rustled, the birds and monkeys and goats hollered and trotted away as the sonic boom obliterated everything in Katelynne's direction.
She was still able to hear once it was finished, thanks to her body naturally bracing for impact.
"Y-yeah," she said, taking a breath and recombobulating herself. "At least I think that was Quinn back there."
Wait.... that was right. She had a gun. She didn't have a gun when Katelynne first ran into her in the woods.
The color drained from her face.
"Uhm....," she turned back around to face the other two goobers. "That voice earlier. Did y'all hear what it said?"
Now maybe Katelynne was just square and lame and never engaged in any fun vices other than getting sneaked a mimosa on her birthday a couple of months back, but people like Oliver she just... don't know, "bad boys" were bad boys for a reason. Boys like that were just boys and had the personality of a dollar bill left in a pair of pants that got thrown in the wash.
Admittedly Garren was probably the most trustworthy fellow here, and that was saying a lot.
She watched Oliver and Parker exchange words, and Garren suddenly spun around and looked her dead in the eyes in a cold sweat.
"W-what?" She asked.
The ground quaked, the trees rustled, the birds and monkeys and goats hollered and trotted away as the sonic boom obliterated everything in Katelynne's direction.
She was still able to hear once it was finished, thanks to her body naturally bracing for impact.
"Y-yeah," she said, taking a breath and recombobulating herself. "At least I think that was Quinn back there."
Wait.... that was right. She had a gun. She didn't have a gun when Katelynne first ran into her in the woods.
The color drained from her face.
"Uhm....," she turned back around to face the other two goobers. "That voice earlier. Did y'all hear what it said?"
"Shut up, Garren. That's twice you've lost control of your voice now. I could hear you from over there."
((Aoi continued from Hello, World!))
Staying in a cabinet for a day had not been smart. Whatever means necessary to maximize his chances, no matter how painful, yes, but pain was its own cost, and Aoi did not much fancy his chances of surviving any sort of physical confrontation with his arms and legs still sore and shaky. The night had done nothing for them, the ground being as hard and unfriendly as it was, and now Aoi's legs were threatening to crumple with every step he took, and it wasn't only or even mostly because they belonged to the terrified human being that Aoi was.
Aoi looked at Katelynne, pulled a piece of paper out of his pants pocket. "Quinn Abert, stabbed Violet Quinn in the gut. There's your answer. I don't know if she had a gun, or if she has one now." He closed the sheet of paper, put it away. It wouldn't be good to lose it.
He'd been staring at that paper, trying to put names to faces, when he'd first heard Garren shout from the other end of what the map had generously termed the "Art" "Exhibit." He could've left, then, before anyone with a gun was drawn to the voice. Aoi didn't want to talk to Garren, or anyone who thought he was good company, anyways. It would've been fine. Except he was maybe leaving people to die, and Aoi wasn't petty enough to let his feelings cloud his judgment. Even the empty-headed one had done nothing to deserve death.
((Aoi continued from Hello, World!))
Staying in a cabinet for a day had not been smart. Whatever means necessary to maximize his chances, no matter how painful, yes, but pain was its own cost, and Aoi did not much fancy his chances of surviving any sort of physical confrontation with his arms and legs still sore and shaky. The night had done nothing for them, the ground being as hard and unfriendly as it was, and now Aoi's legs were threatening to crumple with every step he took, and it wasn't only or even mostly because they belonged to the terrified human being that Aoi was.
Aoi looked at Katelynne, pulled a piece of paper out of his pants pocket. "Quinn Abert, stabbed Violet Quinn in the gut. There's your answer. I don't know if she had a gun, or if she has one now." He closed the sheet of paper, put it away. It wouldn't be good to lose it.
He'd been staring at that paper, trying to put names to faces, when he'd first heard Garren shout from the other end of what the map had generously termed the "Art" "Exhibit." He could've left, then, before anyone with a gun was drawn to the voice. Aoi didn't want to talk to Garren, or anyone who thought he was good company, anyways. It would've been fine. Except he was maybe leaving people to die, and Aoi wasn't petty enough to let his feelings cloud his judgment. Even the empty-headed one had done nothing to deserve death.
Oliver's head jerked hard to the side at the sound of Aoi's voice. He didn't really know the guy, but, but even at this early point he could tell that he was a prick. How such a small guy could talk so much shit was definitely a mystery, though not one that he was particularly interested in contemplating right now. If he was so hell-bent on getting himself into trouble, it was none of Oliver's business at this point.
Still, the addition of yet another face to this growing group did very little to easy the growing regret that he had for getting involved in this at all. He wasn't friends with any of these kids, and wasn't really interested in the topic of whether or not Quinn Albert had a gun. She was killing people, regardless, and if she didn't have a gun, it was only a matter of time until she got one off of some innocent kid who was assigned a weapon that they'd never be able to use.
A quiet sigh made its way out of Oliver's mouth as he looked up at the sky, scratching his head. Making a break for it now would probably be overkill, but he could already tell that he wasn't going to stick around with these people for long. He'd give them a few more minutes to talk, and then give them the good old Irish goodbye while they were deep in conversation. Not like anyone here would miss him, anyway.
Still, the addition of yet another face to this growing group did very little to easy the growing regret that he had for getting involved in this at all. He wasn't friends with any of these kids, and wasn't really interested in the topic of whether or not Quinn Albert had a gun. She was killing people, regardless, and if she didn't have a gun, it was only a matter of time until she got one off of some innocent kid who was assigned a weapon that they'd never be able to use.
A quiet sigh made its way out of Oliver's mouth as he looked up at the sky, scratching his head. Making a break for it now would probably be overkill, but he could already tell that he wasn't going to stick around with these people for long. He'd give them a few more minutes to talk, and then give them the good old Irish goodbye while they were deep in conversation. Not like anyone here would miss him, anyway.
-
Frozen Smoke
- Posts: 513
- Joined: Mon Aug 13, 2018 3:50 pm
It wasn't hard to figure out that Garren had clearly done something to really piss Quinn - the one on the better side of the announcements - off. The question wasn't actually what, it was would Quinn kill him over it, and given that she'd already killed someone he was going to assume the answer to that was yes.
Sucked to be him.
The girl seemed to grab hold of her senses once again and started replying to Garren, having jumped out of her skin much in the same way Garren himself had at her own revelation, before looking over to the two of them for confirmation. He was about to make sure she meant the announcements, when another person piped up, at least following the path this time. An asian kid, with black hair, the black slacks he was wearing looking decidedly unmuddied when compared to Parker's jeans.
He paused for a moment, rattling off the announcement in his head rather than referencing a piece of paper. Abel Paloma, Toby Tizrah, Christine Tyrell, Berly Nick, Felix Tyrell, Yuko Katrina, Quinn Violet, Dante Blaise. He'd tried to remember the weapons, but that had been a struggle, so he'd focused on just committing the names to memory. He couldn't help but feel a pinch of desire towards the paper that their new company had folded away already. Something like that was only going to increase in usefulness as the game went on.
"He's right." Parker confirmed verbally.
Sucked to be him.
The girl seemed to grab hold of her senses once again and started replying to Garren, having jumped out of her skin much in the same way Garren himself had at her own revelation, before looking over to the two of them for confirmation. He was about to make sure she meant the announcements, when another person piped up, at least following the path this time. An asian kid, with black hair, the black slacks he was wearing looking decidedly unmuddied when compared to Parker's jeans.
He paused for a moment, rattling off the announcement in his head rather than referencing a piece of paper. Abel Paloma, Toby Tizrah, Christine Tyrell, Berly Nick, Felix Tyrell, Yuko Katrina, Quinn Violet, Dante Blaise. He'd tried to remember the weapons, but that had been a struggle, so he'd focused on just committing the names to memory. He couldn't help but feel a pinch of desire towards the paper that their new company had folded away already. Something like that was only going to increase in usefulness as the game went on.
"He's right." Parker confirmed verbally.
Criticism or thoughts on my writing are welcome and appreciated - always looking to improve! Feel free to poke me on Discord or via PM.
Aw fuck. Aw fuck, aw shit, aw motherfucking goddamn shitting christ balls. This was it, this was absolutely it. This was his endgame, his death warrant being signed, the goddamn cart pulling him along to the fucking guillotine, and the executioner’s name was Quinn. Katelynne confirmed it, and he could pretty much hear the announcement in his head now. “First on the list is Garren Mortimer and, Jesus Christ, kids. There’s nothing fucking left of him. He’s just a goddam stain. Just a red mark on the ground. Quinn Abert totally motherfucking erased him.”
He’d fucked up, several years ago now. He was tempted to call it a mistake, cause, well, it kinda had been, in hindsight for fucking sure, but the word implied it wasn’t intentional or malicious. Which… yeah. It was. He’d been the one to break into her locker, dug deep into her long-buried secrets, spread them all across school, then left the aftermath of his actions in his wake without looking back. He’d barely thought about it at the time. Barely considered, or cared, just how badly it might hurt Quinn, because lol gay people amirite? A few years had gone past. He’d realised that, hang on, that was a really fucked up thing to do. But he hadn’t done anything about it, hadn’t tried to make amends or apologies or anything at all. It would sound shallow, he was sure, and shallower with each passing day, and as far as anyone knew, it wasn’t the sort of thing Garren would do anyway. They’d all go their own ways soon enough, and eventually it would fizzle out of his and out of Quinn’s minds and be nothing but a distant memory.
Or they could all get put onto murder island when Garren’s actions were still a constant sting in Quinn’s life, day after day, and she could get a gun, and every incentive to kill anybody who had wronged her before. That was another option, he fucking guessed.
He started to pace, walking circles around Katelynne, pickaroon hanging limply by his side, other hand grabbing tightly to his sweat-slicked hair. Okay. Okay, he needed to calm down, obviously. He’d managed to stay calm when Arjen had pointed the sword at him, and he’d done a pretty okay job at not freaking the fuck out when he’d actually been shot at. So he just needed to, like, do the same here! Just take deep breaths, and not panic, and not think about the fact that the girl who’d had a grudge on him for years now, the girl whose life he had completely fucked up, now had a gun and had already tried to shoot him with it and oh my fucking GOD he was gonna die with his face in the dirt and piss dribbling down his leg, wasn’t he?
Garren was pretty sure he was, like, this close to a full on nervous breakdown, when Aoi made his presence known. And, normally, this wouldn’t be cause for celebration, because Aoi was a colossal fucking tool, someone who Garren had absolutely no respect for, one of the few people at George Hunter that he considered lower on the social totem pole. He was a nasty, lingering echo of what Garren could end up being, and the sooner he left that reminder behind, the better.
And that was exactly the kick up the ass that Garren needed.
He glared at Aoi, physically biting his tongue as he steadied his breathing, just to make sure he didn’t let anything spill in his panic and completely alienate everybody around him by calling Aoi some shit that’d make even your average 4channer baulk. If he was gonna be better, then he needed to prove he was better than the other lowest-of-the-lows, the Bradys, the Aois, the Brandons. The Dimitris. That needed to be his first step. To prove to himself, and to everybody around him, that he wasn’t gonna just fold in a crisis, that he wasn’t gonna spend what might be his last few hours trying to terrorise his classmates anymore. Aoi obviously thought he was better than him, huh? How about they took that to the jury?
“Yeah, thanks for that,” Garren muttered as a response to Aoi, spitting out a huge globule of phlegm to the ground. His words came out biting, but he figured that’d fall under his daily allowance of Being A Bitch. Aoi’s first words to him had been ‘Shut up’, after all.
“Katelynne says Quinn’s got a gun and I’m inclined to believe her, she’s-”
Not a dickhead? Someone I actually would piss on if they were on fire?
“-had more personal experience with her.”
He rested his pickaroon against his leg, slowly coming back down from his panic attack, no longer doing his best mouthbreather impression. He put his hands on his lower back, stretching it until it cracked, before he turned to address the group as a whole.
“So, like. Quinn’s obviously killed already, from what you two’ve said.”
He nodded at Aoi and Parker.
“Which is shitty. Like, it’s shitty that anyone’s killing anyone, obviously, but. Y’know. What’s super shitty is that she’s got a grudge against me, and it’s a totally justified one if you were wondering, so… she’s probably gonna try and kill me too. Now, obviously, I’d like you guys to stick with, y’know, work together, help each other out, that sorta shit, but…”
Garren blew air out of the side of his mouth, absent-mindedly scratching his chin. Did he sound calm? He felt like he was sounding pretty calm, even if he was totally fucking bricking it inside.
“If you stick with me, then you’re gonna be in danger, like, even more danger than you’d regularly be in. So if you wanna split, then, yeah, go ahead. It’s cool. Don’t want anyone to get hurt cause of me.”
He’d fucked up, several years ago now. He was tempted to call it a mistake, cause, well, it kinda had been, in hindsight for fucking sure, but the word implied it wasn’t intentional or malicious. Which… yeah. It was. He’d been the one to break into her locker, dug deep into her long-buried secrets, spread them all across school, then left the aftermath of his actions in his wake without looking back. He’d barely thought about it at the time. Barely considered, or cared, just how badly it might hurt Quinn, because lol gay people amirite? A few years had gone past. He’d realised that, hang on, that was a really fucked up thing to do. But he hadn’t done anything about it, hadn’t tried to make amends or apologies or anything at all. It would sound shallow, he was sure, and shallower with each passing day, and as far as anyone knew, it wasn’t the sort of thing Garren would do anyway. They’d all go their own ways soon enough, and eventually it would fizzle out of his and out of Quinn’s minds and be nothing but a distant memory.
Or they could all get put onto murder island when Garren’s actions were still a constant sting in Quinn’s life, day after day, and she could get a gun, and every incentive to kill anybody who had wronged her before. That was another option, he fucking guessed.
He started to pace, walking circles around Katelynne, pickaroon hanging limply by his side, other hand grabbing tightly to his sweat-slicked hair. Okay. Okay, he needed to calm down, obviously. He’d managed to stay calm when Arjen had pointed the sword at him, and he’d done a pretty okay job at not freaking the fuck out when he’d actually been shot at. So he just needed to, like, do the same here! Just take deep breaths, and not panic, and not think about the fact that the girl who’d had a grudge on him for years now, the girl whose life he had completely fucked up, now had a gun and had already tried to shoot him with it and oh my fucking GOD he was gonna die with his face in the dirt and piss dribbling down his leg, wasn’t he?
Garren was pretty sure he was, like, this close to a full on nervous breakdown, when Aoi made his presence known. And, normally, this wouldn’t be cause for celebration, because Aoi was a colossal fucking tool, someone who Garren had absolutely no respect for, one of the few people at George Hunter that he considered lower on the social totem pole. He was a nasty, lingering echo of what Garren could end up being, and the sooner he left that reminder behind, the better.
And that was exactly the kick up the ass that Garren needed.
He glared at Aoi, physically biting his tongue as he steadied his breathing, just to make sure he didn’t let anything spill in his panic and completely alienate everybody around him by calling Aoi some shit that’d make even your average 4channer baulk. If he was gonna be better, then he needed to prove he was better than the other lowest-of-the-lows, the Bradys, the Aois, the Brandons. The Dimitris. That needed to be his first step. To prove to himself, and to everybody around him, that he wasn’t gonna just fold in a crisis, that he wasn’t gonna spend what might be his last few hours trying to terrorise his classmates anymore. Aoi obviously thought he was better than him, huh? How about they took that to the jury?
“Yeah, thanks for that,” Garren muttered as a response to Aoi, spitting out a huge globule of phlegm to the ground. His words came out biting, but he figured that’d fall under his daily allowance of Being A Bitch. Aoi’s first words to him had been ‘Shut up’, after all.
“Katelynne says Quinn’s got a gun and I’m inclined to believe her, she’s-”
Not a dickhead? Someone I actually would piss on if they were on fire?
“-had more personal experience with her.”
He rested his pickaroon against his leg, slowly coming back down from his panic attack, no longer doing his best mouthbreather impression. He put his hands on his lower back, stretching it until it cracked, before he turned to address the group as a whole.
“So, like. Quinn’s obviously killed already, from what you two’ve said.”
He nodded at Aoi and Parker.
“Which is shitty. Like, it’s shitty that anyone’s killing anyone, obviously, but. Y’know. What’s super shitty is that she’s got a grudge against me, and it’s a totally justified one if you were wondering, so… she’s probably gonna try and kill me too. Now, obviously, I’d like you guys to stick with, y’know, work together, help each other out, that sorta shit, but…”
Garren blew air out of the side of his mouth, absent-mindedly scratching his chin. Did he sound calm? He felt like he was sounding pretty calm, even if he was totally fucking bricking it inside.
“If you stick with me, then you’re gonna be in danger, like, even more danger than you’d regularly be in. So if you wanna split, then, yeah, go ahead. It’s cool. Don’t want anyone to get hurt cause of me.”
"bryony and alba would definitely join the terrorists quote me on this put this quote in signatures put it in history books" - Cicada Days, 2017
As if on cue, another greasy boy came out of the woodwork. This time it was Aoi, also a person that frankly Katelynne would have been all right never running into. Regardless, he pulled out some sheet of paper and gave them the scoop.
Now she felt somewhat silly using a rock when pens appeared to be floating around somewhere. But that was besides the point.
The point being the girl Quinn supposedly killed.
"Quinn killed... Violet?" Katelynne repeated to herself, burying her chin in her hand as she thought to herself.
Oh no. Poor Princess...
It felt unreal. Same with the boy from last night telling her how Camilla offed someone. But it was real, this wasn't a night terror you could just pinch yourself awake from. The voice and the boys' confirmation sealed it.
In hindsight, she should've paid attention to what it said. But at the same time, she just... didn't really wanna know. The news about Violet was enough, and ignorance was bliss. She felt guilty, but it wasn't relevant to her mission. Though now she kind of hoped to run across Princess even moreso.
Katelynne pulled out her map as Garren spoke, half-listening in as the others chimed in with their takes while planning her own next steps.
So much for the beach, but that could wait. She still had time. Maybe double back to the lake?
Now she felt somewhat silly using a rock when pens appeared to be floating around somewhere. But that was besides the point.
The point being the girl Quinn supposedly killed.
"Quinn killed... Violet?" Katelynne repeated to herself, burying her chin in her hand as she thought to herself.
Oh no. Poor Princess...
It felt unreal. Same with the boy from last night telling her how Camilla offed someone. But it was real, this wasn't a night terror you could just pinch yourself awake from. The voice and the boys' confirmation sealed it.
In hindsight, she should've paid attention to what it said. But at the same time, she just... didn't really wanna know. The news about Violet was enough, and ignorance was bliss. She felt guilty, but it wasn't relevant to her mission. Though now she kind of hoped to run across Princess even moreso.
Katelynne pulled out her map as Garren spoke, half-listening in as the others chimed in with their takes while planning her own next steps.
So much for the beach, but that could wait. She still had time. Maybe double back to the lake?