Survival Of The Fittest

((Iris Waite continued from Goblin Castle))

Iris made it just past the border of town before she dropped. She didn't fully collapse, but she stumbled when she hit the cracked, uneven tarmac, and she went down on her knees. Her tears had stopped, and now the damp was stinging her cheeks to go along with the burning in her legs and throat and the throbbing of her head.

In short: everything hurt, all over, inside and out.

Iris sat there for several minutes at least, sniffling in between gasps for breath. She wiped her eyes and nose repeatedly with the sleeve of her coat. Her hat was sitting askew on her head, its lower brim darkened with drying blood at the back to go with the stain in her hair. Everything was at least a little blurry around the edges beyond a certain distance. On top of everything, June had stolen her glasses, just- just to hurt her more, after humiliating her.

Iris hadn't even done anything to her! She'd just been there, been scared. She'd been happy June was there, happy for anyone's presence. She hadn't thought about the fact that she was apparently trying to hug a time bomb.

June had had a real bad temper a few years ago, but she'd mellowed out, Iris thought. Maybe she got counseling for it, or whatever was in her life that made her so angry had been fixed. That was what she'd figured, since June became so much calmer and quieter most of the time. She couldn't really have blamed June for all of that anger bubbling back up in a horrifying situation like this, if that anger hadn't resulted in June trying to kill her for doing nothing at all besides also being unhappy.

But Iris was safe, now. Out in the cold, exposed in the open, but momentarily safe. Nobody yelling at her, nobody raising a hand to her or blaming her for everything. She leaned forward more, folding her body over her bag, and she let exhaustion sweep over her. A teddy bear and a heavy blanket.

Big Dick’s favorite basketball player was Isiah Thomas. Not the Detroit Pistons Hall of Famer,instead the 5’9” in his sneakers former point guard for the Boston Celtics. Their Isiah. For three years Thomas was the heart and soul of The Celtics. He was scrappy and so were they. Thomas averaged near 25 points a game. In 2017, shortly after his own sister’s funeral, Thomas led the Celtics to a playoff victory in her honor. Dicky loved him. He thought that he was gonna be the new Paul Pierce or Larry Bird. A Celtics legend that the organization would build around. Maybe even more revealing, Dicky saw the adulation Thomas got and thought, if he could get it—maybe one day Richard would too.

But Isiah was Smurf sized and a liability on defense. But his performance had necessitated that the Celtics pay him a superstar’s salary or let him walk. Isiah had given everything to the organization. He had showed up to work while he was showered in grief. The Celtics owed IT this, but they also owed it to Richard. They couldn’t expect him to keep rooting for the Celtics after trading away their heart and soul.

They traded Isiah Thomas, Dicky’s favorite player ever, to the Cleveland Cavaliers for Kyrie Irving, a flat-earther. Dick and his Dad remained season ticket holders.


He wasn’t slow, he was just steady.

When he had first left the scene he had felt like it was a fast break and he was on the court running for a layup. There was an adrenaline and a desire that converted into a drive and pushed him forward until fatigue tied knots around his stomach and put locks on his limbs. There was something that kept him moving in a frantic direction even at his slowed pace. Instinct, familiarity, determination…

“Hey, yo, Iris, slow down” he gasped with a short breath, hands on knees, “I thought that was you.”

Frantic. Desperate. Familiar. Traits once condemned turned into comforts. Dicky didn't know what would happen next...but he knew her.

"Hey... Wait up, I... Fffffucking hell..." Lily gasped as she tried to keep up, just barely keeping sight of Dicky as he rushed on ahead.

((Lillian Larsen continued from Goblin Castle))

She had to give him credit, Dicky was a helluva lot faster than he looked. It shouldn't really have surprised her, what with him being on the school basketball team compared to her relative lack of exercise or interest in sports. When it came to brief bursts of speed and athleticism, he had her beat without question. For a moment she wasn't even sure if she'd be able to keep up with him.

But whilst he had her beat on speed, she had a slight edge when it came to endurance, and sure enough as he began to slow down she started slowly catching up. She couldn't tell if the Violets were keeping pace or not, she couldn't really afford to take her eyes off him long enough to check. She could only hope that they weren't far behind her, it wasn't as if they could just ring each other's cell phones if they lost track of one other.

Seeing Dicky grind to a halt ahead of her, she stopped by a dead tree off the side of the road, taking a moment to catch her breath and take note of her surroundings. They had just left town from the look of things, stopping along a long road that stretched out into the woods ahead, the same road she reckoned that'd eventually lead them to the research facility. She couldn't help but look up at the vast mountain in the distance, not exactly used to such sights as lifelong east-coaster. It was a nice view, all things considered. She liked to think that her fondness for mountains stemmed from her viking ancestry, despite having hardly ever come across any even during her trip to Europe. Hell, even Denmark was disappointingly flat compared to this island, what with all the cool mountains being up north in Sweden and Norway.

She was about to wipe the sweat from her brow when she realised she was still holding onto the porcelain shard she'd picked up from the house, fumbling and turning it over in her hand. In the hands of an expert, the sword whip tucked into her belt was by far the superior weapon. In the hands of an amateur however, it probably didn't hurt to have easy access to something a bit more practical, Lily carefully tucking the shard into her pocket. She could only hope that she'd never have to make use of it.

Lily looked back over towards Dicky, seeing another figure a little further down the road. She couldn't quite tell who it was from her position, but she looked like she'd just collapsed from exhaustion herself. She was probably the friend Dicky was yelling about earlier, but that still begged the question as to who? Someone from the student council? Chloe, maybe? A small part of her felt frustrated that they were potentially giving up on shelter just to keep up with her, but... No. Didn't matter if she was Dicky's friend or not, she looked like she needed help. They could always find somewhere to hold up later.

With a weary sigh, she wiped her brow and trudged on ahead towards the two, giving Dicky a wave if ever he glanced back to show that he wasn't alone out there.

"I'm gonna be back before dark, don't worry."

Amaryllis had caught Liya, and the two had caught Lily, but Liya fell back. She must have felt awkward, or left out, but she wanted to be alone. Amaryllis could tell, and she wasn't going to mess with that. It made her nervous, of course, but it wasn't anything she could do anything about. What would she do, stalk her through the woods? On snow? Crunch, crunch, crunch under her boots. Besides, Liya had the hook. And sure, that wouldn't do much against, say, a gun, but it was good self defense against mostly anything else. Mostly.

[Amaryllis Peszek-Byrne continued from Goblin Castle.]

Of course the Dick had gone running after a girl. That was typical. Get scared, shoot early, and run away to Mamma. Amaryllis didn't think much about Iris other than she dressed well and shared her last name with one of those Tarot card deck authors. One of the big ones. The occult wasn't her scene, but she was adjacent, and knew plenty of people to whom that meant something. She had just parted ways with one, and was just about to gain on another.

"Lily," she said, panting. Just for the sake of not scaring her when she came up alongside her. That stop by the tree had given Amaryllis some time to catch up, but it was still a breathy walk and talk until they finally made it to Dick and Iris.

"Liya went off on her own. I think she just needed some time to herself, but, I don't know. I didn't see where she went off to."

If they couldn't follow, they could at least all know.

"Do you know her well?" Amaryllis asked, pointing up ahead. "Think she'll be any trouble?"

The footsteps didn't register much, but the voice did. Iris started, and if exhaustion hadn't sunken into her bones by then, she might have jumped up and bolted off again. As it was, her worn-out body refused to move more than what it allowed for her to jerk in surprise, and that bought enough time for her to realize that she knew this voice. She knew it well, and relief flooded her so strongly that she went limp again for a couple of seconds before forcing herself to sit back up.

Iris sniffled again and wiped her eyes and nose again before turning. She couldn't do anything about her blotchy face and swollen eyes, but she wasn't going to just sit here and face Richard with a runny nose on top of everything else, like a crying kindergartner.

"H-hi," was all she managed to get out at first when she did turn, voice small and watery. Richard was bent over and breathing hard, like he'd been chasing her for a while. She didn't remember hearing anything but the gunshot, wind whipping past her face, her own gasping breaths and blood pounding in her ears. If he'd been calling for her, it had been lost in everything else.

"I, um." She didn't know what to say. I'm glad to see you? Sure, she was. She'd been glad to see June too. As much as she'd felt safer with the knowledge that she was momentarily alone, Iris didn't like being alone for long. More movement and voices drew her eye past Richard, and she realized that she was even less alone than she'd thought now. It put her heart in her throat again, but she swallowed it back down.

"Did you guys all... run after me?"

Dicky turned around to see the ‘all’ Iris was referring to—Lily and Amarylis. It wasn't all his allies but it was most. Richard couldn’t help but be surprised. They had followed him on good faith and he felt his heart soften and reward the loyalty. Dick flashed a thumbs up to the two girls backing him up, standing up straight he felt the ghost of confidence return to his face.

“I didn’t know if it was you,” Dicky admitted with a softness, “I wanted it to be though.”

I bet everything that it would, went unsaid.

Richard had lied to her when he had asked her out to Homecoming. She wasn't who he had wanted to go with. Dicky chose Iris because Iris was an easy choice—a pushover and a people pleaser. Richard asked her to be his date to Homecoming because he was incapable of being seen dateless and she was incapable of saying no. Iris was a sure-thing, a sure-person and Richard desperately needed people he counted on and who would be willing to count on him. The last thing was probably more important than the first thing. At least for Richard.

“They’re with me,” Dick felt his voice grow deeper and firmer, “you’re with friends.”

Dicky nodded to Iris but he was his own target audience. Richard was the one who needed to be convinced just as much as any of the girls. For the moment it was so. Dicky would count on it until it wasn’t. Lily the loyal luciferian, Amaryllis the cantankerous tankie—Dicky wouldn’t’ve blamed them if they hadn’t followed, but he couldn’t help but credit that they had. The JEM Terriers were a losing team, but they were a team and there was function even amongst the dysfunction. Richard was a sucker for that shit and he felt his own spirit buying in.

Where was the first person he had run-into, Ilyia, though? Bringing up the rear most like. Dicky didn’t know, but he wanted it to be so. Why wouldn’t it be? It had been Iris, hadn't it?

Dick extended a hand to Iris and a familiar campaign-poster grin etched on his face. This was a familiar feeling. Finding Iris wasn't a win, but it was a basket. He took those when he could.

"Wait, she did what now?" Lily replied as she turned back, a bit taken aback when she realised Liya wasn't with them.

"Why'd she... Well, I think we've stopped for now anyway..." she sighs wearily. It was pretty obvious that she wasn't too happy about Liya going off on her own, but if she just needed a minute to herself then fair enough. Wasn't like they were in any rush to be on the move again now that everyone was catching their breath.

She turned back to Dickie, flashing him an awkward smile and an equally awkward thumbs up in response. She quickly recognised the girl he was with to be Iris Waite, with whom she shared photography class back at JEM. She remembered being told once that Iris took a photo of her and her friends without asking their permission, but she took that claim with a grain of salt. Wasn't as if she'd never been the subject of mean-spirited rumours herself, so she was inclined to believe Iris probably had a worse rep than she deserved.

"I don't think so, it's only Iris..." Lily whispers back to Amaryllis, making her way up to the two with a relieved grin. "Hey, I..." she began, stopping mid-sentence when she noticed the darkened splotch of red at the back of Iris' head. Come to think of it, didn't she normally wear glasses too?

"Oh shoot, you okay there?" she asks, a concerned look in her eyes.

Amaryllis followed Lily's concern in both directions. The first was towards Liya. She felt bad in retrospect for laying a curse on Lily, because it felt immediately that she had a better head on her shoulders when it came to worry than Amaryllis did. What had felt at first like a no-brainer—let Liya go off on her own to pee, or cry for a second, or some other secret third thing—felt much less so now. Maybe she was underestimating her classmates. She had already encountered, now, a total of seven, and none had been a killer, yet. Was it one in eight? Or nine, if she went back and counted herself?

The other was towards Iris. As much as her feelings against Dickie had calmed down on their run—he had better sense than she did as far as getting involved at the houses did—she felt some anger toward him again for not noticing Iris's injury. And it was the same kind of anger that she felt toward herself for letting Liya go off alone.

"We can bandage that," Amaryllis said, "you taken anything for it yet? Painkillers in the first-aid kit."

She stole a nervous glance over her shoulder. The road was empty behind her.

In spite of everything, Richard's reassurances and offered hand brought a wobbly smile to Iris's face. It didn't last long, but the fact that it existed at all for any amount of time meant something. She accepted the hand, but mostly let him pull her to her feet; her legs were really feeling the burn now from her long run.

"Oh, um-" The remnants of the smile dropped completely at Lily and Amaryllis's questions, and her free hand drifted to the back of her head. She winced when her fingers touched the raw spot there and felt the stickiness in her hair. "...No. I, um, I ran all the way here after-"

Iris stopped and made herself take a breath. She was all cried out for now, but she could feel the catch in her chest that wanted to reassert itself as soon as she revisited what had already happened today. "J-June, she... she pushed me down some stairs and then-!"

Breathe. Breathe. She had to at least be able to talk to someone without having a meltdown. "I didn't do anything to her," she insisted, and she felt her voice going a little shrill, but she got the words out in one go. "We woke up in some kind of basement, and when we were trying to get out, she, she just- lost it, and pushed me down the stairs, a-and I hit my head. And she put me in a barrel!"

It probably sounded stupid and made-up. Like she was lying to a teacher about someone bullying her to get them in trouble. Iris squeezed Richard's hand more tightly without fully realizing it. "And- and she stole my glasses." She sniffled a little and rubbed her eyes with her sleeve again.

"Someone came in and pushed the barrel over, but- but they were yelling at me, and I ran away when I got out. I don't remember who it was."

June had done this? To Iris of all people? It revealed a lot about her. June was no joke. She had seven inches on Big Dick and just as much girth. Translation: this was a big ol’ broad. A linebacker of a lady. June would’ve fucked up some dudes in the class. Against lil’ ol’ Iris? With her glasses and camera and nerdy beanie and ant farm? Half a foot shorter and a hundred pounds lighter to boot? It had to have been like Young Shaq dunking on Young Sheldon.

“What a bitch…,” Dicky seemed to realize he was in mixed company and hissed in regret, “sorry, but seriously! What could she possibly want with your glasses?”

And that was without addressing the mysterious barrel pusher!

Iris’s hand felt small in Richard’s own and a cool wind caused shivers to go down his spine. Dick’s inhibition fought with his intuition. His heart demanded action but his spirit required accuracy and in this he found a path in patience. Dicky recognized the power and persistence of Hope and he couldn’t let it be overcome by the punch of paranoia. He trusted his gut, he obviously and clearly had more than enough gut to trust.

“Let’s get off the road and into the woods,” he said aloud to nobody in particular and everybody all at once. “I was a boy scout, I can start a fire,” Richard squeezed Iris’ hand back and felt confidence course through his core. This was a familiar role and feeling and familiar was worth too much out here to avoid it when it was free. This was dribbling down the court and dishing it to Donovan for the three. This was the ball in Dick’s hand and the win in sight. It was tough to defeat a man who saw something and Richard’s blue eyes were clear as the sky.

“We can set that up,” he nodded to the group, “we patch Iris up,” he nodded to himself, “we can wait out the night.”

It was as good a plan as any—except for one obvious speed bump. Clear to Richard as the sound of Iris' voice had been.

“Polaris runnin’ behind...," the powerful poke of paranoia again, "where’s she at?”

"Eeeeeeeasy now, you're safe with us Iris" said Lily, looking into her eyes as she took a series of deep breaths for Iris to copy.

Lily was surprised to hear that June of all people had shoved her down a set of stairs, granted she struggled to imagine any of her classmates doing such a thing. A small part of Lily couldn't help but question whether or not there was more to this story than what Iris was telling them, like if there was something that happened to provoke June into reacting so violently. But maybe that was just because she was still finding it hard to believe that there were people out there already playing, that some of the folk she'd gone to class with over the past several years would succumb to wanton murder so... Easily. The thought made her shudder, especially with Liya still out there somewhere...

Lily turned back to the empty road, biting her bottom lip as her eyes briefly met Amaryllis'.

She had mixed feelings when Richard suggested setting up camp, given how cold it was out in the wild compared to the relative comfort they had abandoned. It wasn't as if those were the only two houses after all, they could always go back and look for another one. Then again, wouldn't everyone else on the island have the same idea? In some ways they were lucky during their earlier encounter that everyone involved seemed fairly harmless, but she dreaded to think what would've happened if anyone they bumped into also had a gun on them. There were probably a fair few people heading to that small neighbourhood for the night, many of whom would be scared, tired, paranoid... and armed.

Perhaps it would be for the best if they stayed out of town after all.

"Right... We should probably remain in sight of the road, make sure it's easy enough for any of us to find camp again once we've set up" she says, still somewhat nervous about Liya's extended absence. Where WAS she? None of them knew how long she intended to be, and it didn't sit well with her at all. She'd seen enough horror movies to know that splitting off to do your own thing never ended well, especially on murder island of all places.


That thought would stick with her as they moved off the road, not travelling too far before finding a small and relatively secluded spot by a fallen tree, positioned just slightly uphill from the road with a decent view of it whilst also offering a certain degree of cover. A good place to keep an eye on the road whilst also remaining hidden from anyone with ill intent.

Still, even as she started gathering firewood, Liya's prolonged absence kept weighing heavier, and heavier upon her shoulders. It had been... What, twenty minutes now? Almost half an hour? Way too long either way.

Eventually, she would put her bundle of sticks down and look to the others. "Okay... I'm gonna go look for Liya, I... She shouldn't be taking this long. Something about all this doesn't feel right..."

She turns to Amaryllis and nods, suspecting she would be keen to join her.

"We'll try to get back before nightfall, if not..." she continues, nervously biting her bottom lip again. "Well, try to give us until morning at the very least."

She looked to Richard and gave him a nod farewell, hoping that this wouldn't be the last time they saw one another. Then, after grabbing her bag and hoisting it over her back, she pulled away and made her way back down the slope towards the road.

She would stop briefly by a tree before they left, taking her broken shard and marking it with an L. Hopefully that would make it easier to find camp, Liy doing her best to memorise her surroundings before heading back down the road to search for their missing companion.

((Lillian Larsen continued in Puppet Girl))

As she helped set up camp, Amaryllis' thoughts remained with Liya. They had picked a visible enough spot—Amaryllis made sure of that. Still she did not come. For a while, Amaryllis liked to believe that she got lost and turned around and went back towards the village. But then she realized that she would have eventually seen the error of her literal way, and turned around and made her way back. And that if she was walking at a brisk pace, she should have made her way back by now already. Or, she'd be coming around, any second now. Any second now.

It was too bad that June hurt Iris. Still there was nothing to do but offer medical assistance and ruminate on what this could mean. Amaryllis just barely knew June, through classes they'd had together. She seemed to occupy another world, her and her friend group, that ragtag bunch. But June was neurotic, politically, mercurial and without underlying theory to ground her in the world. Those were the types most likely to buckle. Dickie had. Olive was going to. It was the strangers who banded together or holed up. People who considered themselves normal, those were the ones to watch out for.

And Amaryllis did consider herself normal. Mostly. She wasn't sure exactly what had taken the wind out of her sails. Maybe it was starting below the earth, in her seven foot grave. Maybe it was meeting a familiar face so early. And here she turned to worry. Without Liya, what would she do?

Oh, and what was the deal with stealing glasses, anyways? Did June lose her own? Amaryllis would hate to have to wear glasses at a time like this. Not without a strap to keep them in place.

Lily made the first move to go look. Amaryllis agreed to go, even though she was beginning to feel numb. She took all of her supplies with her when Lily mentioned nightfall, and morning. It was likely that they'd have to find a place of their own to make camp. A winter forest was a great place to get lost.

"If we don't meet again," Amaryllis said, to Dickie, "thanks for coming. When I screamed for help, I mean."

Amaryllis followed Lily out of the camp. When she made an L in the tree, Amaryllis took note. If only they had some paint or anything to blaze a trail. It would be harder to make out a carving in the dark.

[Amaryllis Peszek-Byrne continued elsewhere.]

Everyone was being... nice. After the shock and horror of waking up, June's snapping, and the abuse from the people who should have come to her rescue, others just being nice made Iris wobbly at the knees. She offered no resistance to Richard's plan or the offers of help for her head wound, docilely going along to sit at their makeshift camp as it came together. She was cold and hurting and exhausted; it was no struggle at all to let herself be enveloped in the care of other people for once.

Time passed. It felt slow, but nightfall came quickly, like it always did in winter. Iris huddled close to the campfire, murmuring (not blubbering, she'd done enough blubbering) thanks as they helped bandage her head, offered her painkillers, and kept feeding wood to the fire. She didn't have much of anything to offer in return.

There was a somewhat unpleasant shock when she finally opened up her bag to see what, if anything, there was of use in there, and she came face to face with her weapons. She saw the word grenades first, and her stomach dropped, but the rest of the understanding caught up to her quickly enough. Flashbangs. Something loud and maybe scary, but not deadly. Iris was both relieved and uneasy at the realization. If nothing else though, they could toss these at anyone who wanted to come up and make trouble at their little camp.

There was just one thing that kept their small pocket of safety and civility from being complete: Iliya's absence. Iliya occupied about the same space in Iris's mind as her bandmate, Amaryllis. They both struck her as kind of tough and intimidating in different ways. Liya seemed more mystical, almost idealistic in a way. Amaryllis... well, she owned a motorcycle.

If any of the four of them gathered here stood a good chance at winning in a scrap, Amaryllis seemed like the obvious choice separate from the weaponry brought to the table. Richard's gun was capable of ending every fight before it started, but attitude could do a lot of the same. When Lily and Amaryllis stated their intent to go in search for Liya, Iris offered only token resistance.

"You're leaving?" She felt dumb just repeating it, but what could she say? No, don't go look for your friend when something unimaginably terrible might have happened to her? Iris didn't didn't like horror movies, but she could see why people went into dark basements even when everyone watching was yelling at them not to.

"Um... take care." She drew her knees up closer to her chest and hugged them, scooting a little closer to the fire as room was made. They were armed and tough enough. Had to be enough. She looked to Richard for confirmation, reassurance, even so.

A part of Richard wanted to follow them, but the fugue state brought about by the fantasy of the familiar had taken ahold of his heart. Steady hands went through ritualistic movements, long erased from the front of his mind, but forever burned in instinct. It had been years since Richard had been an altar boy, he still knew his prayers. Dick hadn’t been a scout in just as long—he hadn’t forgotten fire. Even in the snow. Richard knew forgetting wasn’t an option out here. Not when his voice carried promises and his eyes flickered with power. Dicky had faith in how things were going to go. That faith could be questioned, it could be shaken, but it could not falter.

“Good luck,” said to Lily, “be safe,” nodded towards Amaryllis, “hurry back.”

A prayer and a proclamation, to God and gut. Directed at self.

Faith was what humans relied on when the facts were too much to argue against. Hope was hostile to logic and when it produced the constriction of complacency, toxic. But Big Dick couldn’t be complacent. Iris was relying on him. He thought of her father. Homecoming photos in her living room. Promises to keep her safe and not out late.

A part of Richard wanted to follow them, but he had a duty and there was honor in being dutiful. Staying made him feel powerful. Iris looked to him for reassurance, Richard was quick with a nod and a smile. The Illies would be back soon. He knew it! Dicky couldn’t believe anything else and still believe in his honor. He sat by Iris and the fire and his knee bumped against hers. Dick tried to remain solid and strong, a body and shoulder to lean on. For a few moments of silence, it was just them and the flickers of orange fire light.

They’d be back soon. Dicky couldn’t believe in anything else.

One hand gripped the newly reloaded pistol, another worked fingers through crunchy orange hair mixed with gel and sweat. A feeling forced its way down his throat and took root in his naval. A shiver worked its way down Dick’s spine and a shudder showered over his shoulders. This was familiar. This was undeniable. A foundational and universal emotion…

“Y’know,” shadows danced in the night, “not for nothing,” Richard’s throat sealed up like he swallowed a shot glass of sand, “but I’m glad, like, y’know, whatchamacallit,” no words, “that the last time we saw each other wasn’t the last time we saw each other.”

Dicky was scared. What more was there to say? Why was he hiding and denying it?

“I’m scared.”

His eyes remained glued to the flickering of the flame. Richard was scared, that was true—but that’s why he was glad he was with Iris. He couldn’t be scared for long. Dick, by design, had to be brave enough for two. Even in the snow. Forgetting wasn’t an option out here. Not when his voice carried promises and his blue eyes fluttered with a flicker of red flame.

The fire sparked and hissed, Dick's expression became focused, his voice trembled but he never shook.

“But I gotta be brave for you,” a promise, a proclamation, “and I need you to be brave for me.”

A prayer.

Iris hugged her knees a little tighter and smiled bitterly into the fire. "...They wouldn't have been bad last memories," she said softly. That was a surprisingly morbid response, even to herself, but after the shock and the pain and the terror, now that things were as calm as they were probably going to get, she was starting to feel... well, nothing. Numb. The other kind of shock, she guessed.

Richard had been one of her best friends since middle school, which wasn't a long time in the grand scheme of things, but was practically forever in all the ways that mattered. Only a few people had been positive presences in her life longer than that.

"I'm glad you're here, though. I'd-" Iris sniffed a little, but her nose was mostly stuffed up now. She wasn't sniffing from feelings so much as from the cold. "I'd hate to- you know, I was scared, I was really scared that I was going to have to be all alone." That it would be that or people who hated her for what felt like no reason.

She glanced at Richard from the corner of her eye. The edges of his form were made blurry by the heat and light of the fire. If she let her thoughts just run, then she might have been able to convince herself that he was just a mirage. That all of this was something she'd just hallucinated after hitting her head, and she was really alone having a conversation with shapes in the snow.

Funny. People usually tried to convince themselves of happy things.

"...I'll try. To be brave." It didn't feel like a promise that had much to it even as she said it.