Survival Of The Fittest

Jeez.

Seemed it was getting dark early.

Not that she had any fuckin' clue what time it was.

But it hadn't seemed to be light that long. And now the sun was setting, and she'd have a hike to get back.

Ugh.

Should've just stayed in the station and holed up.

(Fey Zelenka-Morrison continued from Roses and Whiskey)

Fey's lanky form moved through the edge of the treeline, Whole section of this forest rose up above her like a lonely prison wall. Out from the fields and off to Botany Bay. She stepped carefully in the snow, or tried to at least, hoping to leave bootprints that she could follow back and step right into on her way.

She walked and pinwheeled her arms a bit to keep the blood moving. She exhaled. Had her hoodie up and those headphones on to cover her ears and they actually kinda worked as earmuffs. That was one good thing at least.

Fey was here to grab some wood. So she had some time to think. Fucking finally.

One thing tugged at her a bit stronger than the others. One thought. Wasn't a good one though.

The thought was Jesus Christ, why not just fucking kill herself?

Fey wasn't prone to deep introspection. She didn't much like to be alone. Hence her seeking out them groups and all. At school, at home, didn't matter what they had in common or not. She'd come from big families... while other than her own. You know what she meant? No siblings, and no Andre and Paradise didn't count as real siblings, but plenty of cousins and aunts. The parties, the throngs when she was able to get out and yell about defunding the cops or whatever. The whole Irish heritage thing. She'd planned out a few possible Celtic designs she'd wanted to get tattooed in the next few years. Mark her as part of the group.

That's what she did, and now she was alone, and sure they'd probably be Calvin when she got back and there was Piper earlier but really? Come on. They didn't really count either.

So what could she do?

Well, fucking kill herself. Get it over with. Seemed simple enough. Just all "yup, go find a spot on that mountain you call fall down or whatever." Or maybe she could've slit her throat with those glass shards on her gloves, but that would be really rough to handle.

But what else you supposed to do when you're on Survival of the Fittest and you know you probably ain't the fittest and you're not gonna think deeply enough on other options? Sure, Fey guessed there was playing the game and trying to kill people. She could give that a go, but the odds didn't seem too great to succeed there.

Plus, y'know, it'd be wrong and stuff. Do yer good.

Or try to rise on up. Come on out ye Black and Tan terrorists, come out and fight me like a man. She'd tossed out a couple vague thoughts back in the station. Didn't seem good odds either there.

Fuck, she wanted to get drunk. But that was definitely odds against happening too.

So.

Back to killing herself?

"Bleeeeeehh....."

Fey hopped up and grabbed a nearby branch that looked ragged enough to snap. It held. She hopped again and grabbed it with both hands, pulling herself up in almost a chin-up. Still held.

Then it snapped and she fell on her back in the snow, holding the branch.

Fuckin' hell, even gathering the wood wasn't gonna be easy here.

But you know what? Was still just the start here.

Fey was stubborn enough. So let's pack those thoughts back away. Bad idea to start thinking too deep. After all, no one was even dead yet, right? Maybe get back, get a little fire going in the station, get some more people, and no one gets killed tomorrow and the terrorists are all just like "Ah fuck, you got us, we'll let you all go."

So don't do nothing rash yet. Fire was a plan to start.

(Fey Zelenka-Morrison continued in Zeus is a deadbeat...)