conditions of absolute reality

[almostinhuman]

((INGRID WILDE START))

A scream echoed from near the top of the mountains. A howl of incoherent rage and fear, thrown as far out as its owner could manage. Perhaps the most explosive emotional display she'd ever given, though in her view, the situation absolutely fucking warranted it. It only stopped when she finally ran out of breath to maintain it.

Afterwards, she stood there, looking out over the island, gasping for air and trembling with every muscle pulled taught in tension. She felt dizzy and lightheaded, and her throat felt torn and raw, but she didn't care. When you're spiraling it's hard to focus on that sort of thing. All she could focus on was the utter lunatic circumstance she found herself in. The kind of shit that was supposed to only ever happen to other people, something awful, but only in the abstract. How the fuck were you supposed to even begin processing it once it became all-too-real?

She shut her eyes, taking a series of slower, deeper breaths. This little freakout wasn't going to help her at all. Frankly, it's what the motherfuckers who stuck them here would want her to do. Most of her classmates were probably busy panicking and losing their minds below her, but she couldn't do likewise. Someone was gonna have to have enough sense to pull people together. She wasn't gonna take this fucking bullshit lying down. She was figuring a way out; if she couldn't alone, then there were bound to be people around who she could work with to get it done. They'd get these collars off, find some way off the island, and take as many other kids as they could on the way out. She was certain she could make it happen; she just wasn't certain how yet, exactly.

She made her way down the path. There was work to be done, and as usual, she had to be the one to do it.

((Ingrid Wilde continued in Ursa Major Meltdown))