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Santa Sangre
So that was the power of the rifle. Fiyori, on a conceptual level, understood the lethal potence of the weapon. Yet seeing the gun fire, and it's bullets blast the walls, was as eye-opening as it was ear-shattering.

A drop of blood trickled down Fiyori's chin. For a moment she thought herself struck by the bullet casings ejected by the rifle. However, she had simply bitten her lip open in reaction to the gunfire.

It was fucking amazing. And it was so fucking terrifying. To think of it - to imagine a human rendered in tiny pieces of flesh by that gun was equally awe-inspiring and a vision of utter horror.

"Well, good thing you didn't hit the can. Would've coated us in cat food all over."

Fiyori approached Alba. From the left, of course. As a matter of safety, of course. When she took a few steps - loud, stomping steps to make sure Alba heard her - Fiyori cleared her throat once, and with a brief hesitation laid her hand on Alba's shoulder. Her head turned to Brendan, and she answered his remark with a brief chuckle. Yea, would suck a lot of dick. Though maybe they got lucky and whoever heard this thought better. Something along the lines of 'oh look someone has a fucking giant gun. Better run fast!'.

"I'd like to try now."


Santa Sangre
Watching them set up their improvised shooting range was amusing. In a very dry sense, mostly because it allowed her to reflect a bit further on her own skills with a gun. Fiyori wasn't delusional in that regard. She had no idea how to properly use a simple gun, and the imposing rifle even less. Alba seemed unsure herself. Fiyori knew though that her own attempts would - at first, hopefully - look just as helpless.

"The way you go at this I presume there's no manual to this thing."

Fiyori folded her arms. After finding the position uncomfortable, she moved over to a couch and leaned on it to let her arms rest on the back. She bit her lips, because she had another question just popping in her mind, but she wasn't sure if she really should be asking.

"You mentioned you got this from someone." After, Fiyori guessed with the clues given to her, that someone was killed by Kimiko Kao. She went down a list of names in her head, but for the moment could only come up with Bradley's. "Mind telling me what happened?"

a dr36m come true and a star to wish upon
Dorothy called vermilion red. It was not that much of an untruth, though had Lucilly been content with considering the color of vermilion a red, she would have simply said red. Regardless, Dorothy has shown another facet of hers with a masterful segue into a new topic.

It was small talk, pleasantries exchanged between two young ladies, and yet her question halted whatever Lucilly was thinking at the moment. She was not sure.

"I am uncertain."

Looking at Dorothy, the way she was and the way Lucilly was, Lucilly remembered that she remembered nothing. Nothing about what she had planned, at least, or if she ostensibly had planned anything at all.

"Do you have plans?"

Aperature Science Mafia Signups!
Hey!

/in

Santa Sangre
The situation was a bit complicated. All of it was a bit complicated, but that exact moment was notable in being complicated. She did laugh about it, in the sense that she gave it a few chuckles. Unfortunately, she couldn't hope to whisk the dilemma away by ridiculing it.

Well, she could, to be completely truthful. But she resolved to act, so she would have to act.

Brendan and Alba probably thought - Alba more than Brendan, Fiyori hoped - that she would take the gun and run. Granted, she had hers plans to kill some certain people. And getting a gun like the rifle Alba held would be a great boon. In fact, she could consider it a requirement. A requirement that might have been too hard to fulfill in any circumstances.

And yet, she really couldn't, and never would in good conscience take the rifle with her and weaken Brendan. The entire point of her resolve was to protect someone, and taking their defense away was, frankly, a betrayal, a sin, and most of all, simply counterproductive.

Regardless, the original point Fiyori voiced stood anyway. The rifle was useless in the hand of someone who wouldn't shoot. Alba apparently had promised to protect Brendan. In the bitterest corner of her mind, Fiyori thought ill of Alba's failings thus far. When she offered her 'protection', Fiyori's chuckle had grown into a laughter ricocheting through the lounge.

"Alright!" Fiyori clapped her hands, and the laughter stopped. "Target practice."

Santa Sangre
Fiyori showed Brendan a half-smile, albeit a genuine one. She appreciated his little joke and his ability to indulge her with this. The rest of his answer - although lacking in detail - was sincere in it's essence. And that was enough for Fiyori. For the moment, it was enough. He killed two people. He killed Bee, but she heard him speak, and she knew it was never his will to do so.

It was enough for her. But it dawned on her, it might not be enough for Ty. She hesitated.

"No, you're a good person."

So was Ty.

"Bee..." The word she wanted to use, 'was', seemed heavy. An admission of defeat to the fact that she was truly gone. Fiyori wouldn't get around that. "Bee was, if not my closest friend, someone whom I really liked. And I still say that you are a good person."

Yeah, Ty would definitely disagree here. She was sure of that. And as for the worst, Fiyori could not - would not despite all the assurances of her own she gave to Brendan - deny Ty the anger he would feel.

As questionable luck would have it, the situation allowed her to distract herself from this thought.

Alba had a rifle. The weapon drew Fiyori's attention, and she couldn't hide the fact that she mustered it intensively. From the way she spoke, Fiyori hazarded a guess. A guess that they had the 'chance' to use it - or rather were forced to use it - but did not or could not. Didn't want to, Fiyori guessed on that count.

She had a dry mouth, she tried to moisten it with some of her own saliva, but that didn't help much.

"...I know that the thing I am going to say will seem rude or arrogant, and for that I apologize.

Still, what good is a weapon that cannot be used? It's not even a good deterrent. A threat of violence if you can act on it, and the first guy to call your bluff will murder you - no, as of now - will murder us."

Fiyori couldn't help it. She started beaming just the littlest bit. Even she was surprised at how well those words sounded. From her perspective, at least, and that counted for something.

"Basically, I... if someone attacks us, please pass me the rifle."

Santa Sangre
Fiyori flashed him a smile when he asked. Technically true, someone did hurt her. However, lamenting her hurt feelings would be cruel to those who lost more. Especially standing before Brendan, who did lose something important of his body.

"I'm good. No one got to me yet."

It would have been - maybe or maybe not - a good moment for Fiyori to tell her story. It wasn't much, in hindsight, that has really happened. Fiyori could describe the last five days in less than five sentences. Regardless, Fiyori decided that it was her turn to ask a question. She looked over to Alba. She had wanted the girl to answer too, for the sake of clarity. But Fiyori figured that she'd listen anyway.

With her hands motioning at Brendan's shoulder, she asked, "So, what happened?" and she hoped he'd realize, that it was more than his injury that she meant.

Santa Sangre
Heh. Sorry for not finding her.

Fiyori stepped closer, gazing on the damage on his body. "Trust me..." she said, softly placing her hand on the good shoulder Brendan had left.

"That's my line." she said then, and wrapped herself around Brendan. It was a gentle hug, her eyes still lingering on the bandaged wound, her hands careful not to touch it. And for that one moment, things were actually pretty okay. Brendan, who - somehow - killed two people, became Brendan, her very own friend. She didn't want to let go, not of that fleeting moment, and not of Brendan.

And yet...

Something clouded her minds again. A different, but related thought, but Fiyori hesitated to name it yet.

She let go, after all.

a dr36m come true and a star to wish upon
Oh, dearest - Lucilly could only agree to Dorothy's statement for her own week was as miserable as a week could get. She had not taken a shower in a long time, and although she could not smell the stench of her own person she was inherently aware of it - and thanked Dorothy's tact in not acknowledging it - and that was just terrible.

"My favorite color is... well to be frank I have not thought a lot about this lately."

Lucilly thought about it. In that moment, though she did not ponder for long and simply blurted out the first shade in her mind which she found pleasing to it.

"However, I think it would be Vermilion. I just find it... good."

"Pink is a very good color as well, though!"

a dr36m come true and a star to wish upon
It had been more shock - quite literally - than damage that caused Lucilly's brief moment of pain. At the very least, she concluded as such.

Her head was removed from the floor, that is, Lucilly lifted it up. She had a few troubles indeed to lift the rest of her body, but with a few sighs and aches and a very concerned-looking Dorothy looking on, she managed to stand on her two feet again.

She rested her hand on the spot on her chest where Dorothy struck. The physical sensation caused her a slight bit of discomfort, but it was nothing to invade hell for.

"I am good, thank you very much."

As tazing people, however, was one of the lesser known icebreakers - and rightly so, for most conversation dropped dead when electric currents were involved - Lucilly found herself speechless. The art of small talk had been inappropriate to use where they were, but for the lack of better options, Lucilly engaged.

"I hope you are just as fine."

Demons Dance Alone
[[Taking Over]]

She told him to stay. She glared at him, and looking into her watery eyes startled him. Back then. She was leaving. For a bit, as she said. And Johnny agreed, as he said. He didn't want her to leave, but he didn't want to stop her either.

And there was a shimmer of hope somewhere in Johnny. Something about how Raina really was just going for a bit. How she would just need a walk in the fresh air. To collect her thoughts and then come back.

Time passed, and by then Johnny knew that it just wasn't true. Lili had a plan. Raina had a plan, too. Maybe. A plan she went on to execute, and it was a plan without Johnny. He had a plan, as well. An inkling of a plan in either case. Didn't work out that much anyway. Not anymore, at least.

Johnny had waited a little bit longer. He had still hoped that, if he just kept his composure and waited, he would go right back on track. Raina would come back. That would be fine. Then he would be happy. For a moment, at least, until something else happened.

Raina had asked for him to not follow her. Finally, he chose to disrespect her request.

[[Johnny McKay, continued in Wait, don't be hasty]]

a dr36m come true and a star to wish upon
Lucilly kept screaming.

She kept screaming straight into Dorothy's face as the girl tried to apologize and calm her down.

She kept screaming for a while longer, but already got more silent. And more, and more, until she stopped.

Then she slumped, and collapsed on the floor.

Lucilly gave Dorothy a thumbs up, her own face planted firmly into the ground.

"Please do not do this thing again, if it would not bother you too much."

a dr36m come true and a star to wish upon
'Fear not' says local girl and gets zapped.

Lucilly could have truly said that she was utterly and completely shocked. Even more so, she was surprised by the sudden tension engulfing the room. She could only utter one word - "What!" - before she screamed. Then Dorothy screamed again.

And then Lucilly screamed again.

Then they both screamed.

Santa Sangre
They greeted her. Fiyori wasn't sure how to continue. There weren't a lot of options that would be fitting in any way to carry on this conversation. Something she should have thought about beforehand, perhaps. Briefly, Fiyori thought about making a joke. About making the - turning the mood a bit lighter. Brendan was shirtless - clearly wounded by the look of the fresh bandages - but still shirtless with a girl. Fiyori thought about making a flirty comment.

She resigned that thought, though. She wasn't in the mood for such jest. Not anymore.

"I am... not dead."

She paused another moment. It might have been the polite thing to wait now. To wait for them to properly invite her into the room, but Fiyori didn't hesitate and simply strut towards the pair.

"And I guess that's good enough for now."

Fiyori tried to catch Brendan's eyes. See what they spoke, see what those eyes could tell her. If it was a message like 'I am sorry' or message like 'I hate you'. Or maybe like a message of 'I was right'.

a dr36m come true and a star to wish upon
[[Lucilly Peterson, continued from I'm Just a Soul Whose Intentions Are Good]]

What has occurred, and more importantly - what has not occurred. Two questions closely related, swirling closely intertwined in her head. She could not answer, however. At some point in time, she had met Emma. At some point of time, she had met Amanda. At some point of time, she had met Jamie. At some point of time, she had lost them.

At some point of time, she had lost her way.

At what points of time, she was not sure. All the pieces of her memory, they could the scraps torn from a single page. Perhaps they could be the telling of a day. Perhaps a year has gone by. Perhaps the world burnt in fire and Lucilly was born anew.

For the moment, she considered the last possibility unlikely.

Either way, at some other point of time, a point which was more present than any others, Lucilly had heard voices. A voice, a singular voice coming from just one person. She had heard them and in a bout of curiosity or the cravings for something else, she had tried to seek them out. Lucilly had found the source of it, she believed.

Dorothy.

She stepped into the white room. It was beautiful. Dorothy was beautiful. She was so happy. So was Lucilly, now that she could see it as well.

"Fear not, it is merely me."

MW's Lyric-Based V7 Character/Trait Prompt Atrocity
...alright hit me with your most pretentious.

Santa Sangre
[[Fiyori Senay, continued from Love Is A Fridge]]

It had - when she heard it - come as a shock. Bernadette died. She... just stopped living. She was somewhere, on this island. She was somewhere, and then she just wasn't anymore. So close to Fiyori. And yet what had Fiyori done? What could she have done?

What stung more, perhaps, was to know who it was who killed her. Brendan had already been mentioned in the announcements before, quite prominently in fact. But Fiyori's vision was clouded, and so was her mind. She put it to the back of it, and only the newest announcement had brought it back to the front.

That, and perhaps the little fact that she was about to stand before the boy himself.

It wasn't Fiyori's decision to sneak up on them, or something. It wasn't as such at all. She was careful to tread, of course, as careful as she could be. She opened the door to the lounge and kept to the wall. Fiyori got a good look at Brendan - who was engrossed in his pain - and Alba - who was engrossed in the very same. As far as Fiyori could tell, in any case. Had she decided to reveal herself or not, Fiyori guessed, the two would have noticed her.

Politeness, however, required Fiyori to make note of her self first.

She gave the wall four knocks. Each one softer than the one before.

"...hey."

Love Is A Fridge
[[Fiyori Senay, continued from Get Me Away From Here, I'm Dying]]

---
Senay Residence

It was in moments like these, when Fiyori brought bad news, that the sight of her own front door filled her with a sense of uneasiness. Other people, she knew, would feel terror. Or rage. Or another stronger emotion. She wouldn't, because she didn't, and never did. And yet, it was an undeniable fact. Fiyori had a letter, straight from the teacher, straight to the parents. As straight as it could be, with Fiyori as the carrier. And it was bad news. She knew, she felt bad. Not too bad, but bad enough.

She continued to look at the door just inches away from her face. The key had already been placed into the lock's slot, her hand holding it tight. She waited for a moment, that was all. Then she heard a click. The hallway's lamp shutting itself off. Fiyori sighed, and turned the knob.

The door opened, but just for a short distance. Then it stopped, got stuck on something. Fiyori acted on an instinct, and with a bit of force pushed further. The door opened indeed, but she could hear the plastic membrane of a trash bag rip just behind it. The trash itself spilled out, and were dragged along the floor with the push of the door. It would have been wiser to act differently. It would have been better, if Fiyori just made herself as thin as possible, entered via the small space created between wall and door pane. Then she could remove the trash bag blocking her path. Put it outside, maybe, so that nobody else would get stuck. Of course, she didn't care for that detail in that one moment. She quickly regretted not caring, however.

Fiyori entered the flat, closed the door behind herself and reached for the light switch. She dared not to look at the mess she made, but when she found her bravery, she found it not to be too bad. The trash bag, which somebody placed directly behind where the door would open – coincidentally and accidentally of course – had ripped and all the trash got strewn across the floor, some of it compressed into the corner. Old newspapers, used tissues, milk cartoons, some odd bits of paper and plastic and a weird stench reminding her of used condoms. Was probably that. Still, Fiyori freezed. She waited for it. For a voice that would came. The voice to reprimand her, the voice to chide her. A voice that would say such things as "Are you too dumb to see?" to Fiyori.

When that voice didn't arrive, Fiyori glanced over to a clock hanging high up. Her mother hadn't come home yet. She should have, but she did not. And for that moment, that was good enough.

-

Of course, there was still that unfortunate fact of these bad news. It was a letter given to her by one of her teachers, sealed in an envelope. It was meant to be for her parents. Something about Fiyori's "poor work ethic". She knew that was it. It was a feeling of her gut. That, and the fact that she already opened the envelope.

By then Fiyori had cleaned the mess she made while entering, and had started making another kind of mess. Spots of grease and salt flying across the kitchen as she was preparing her dinner. She decided she would not give the letter to her parents. On her way home, she considered it. But then, when she was in the kitchen, and so fully submerged in the process of making her own food, she thought better of it. It would not be a good idea. In fact, it would a futile one.

She knew how these things tended to go down. Her parents would read or listen to something about how lazy Fiyori is, and how her teachers really needed to see her parents right now. They would sulk a lot, and call Fiyori too difficult. Then they'd go to that teacher, they would get told all about how useless Fiyori was and then her parents would go home, yell at her, and be general cunts for days.

And then – then it would all be the same. Fiyori would still be Fiyori. Dumb, and Terrible, and Lazy. Everything would be the same, everyone would be miserable. As always. But by making a huge deal out of it, things get stressful. Because that had to be. Because somebody always needed to make a scene.

She would have loved it, if her parents simply ignored all of it. All her failings. And then, things would not be good. But they would be calmer. Easier to bear. And that was fine on its own.

In the background, Fiyori could hear the flat's door fall into it's place. Footsteps to her own room's door, and somebody knocking "severely" on the door. That was the sound of her mother, Birikti. Fiyori chose not to react, and the knocking ceased after a few seconds.

It wasn't long until Birikti entered the kitchen. It wasn't long until she made another noise.

"Answer when I knock."

Fiyori gave her the cold shoulder. She smiled, but her mother couldn't see that.

"I have received a call from your school."

---
Intensive Care Wards

crrk

Why, of all the things possible. It was thing scene from her memories which played crisp clear before her eyes. As if it were real. As if it was a dream, a realistic dream. A dreal.

crrk

Her mood had improved considerably, since she left GLD and Olivia behind. In a way though, she had also felt a tingling of guilt. Not particularly for GLD, but for Olivia. If that cunt was able to charm Fiyori for three... four (?) days, then Olivia was nothing but a ready-to-use tool for Georgia Lee to take and toss away.

crrk crrk

Fiyori halted.

crrk

Well, she was also feeling a bit sorry about herself. In the sense one would feel sorry when making a small wrong investment. Like that one day the weather forecast warned of unprecented rainfall, and Fiyori took her seldom-used umbrella to school, but then the weather ended up just being fine and she had to bother with carrying around an umbrella for nothing.

Something like that. Although, the way she acted towards Georgia Lee really wasn't that inconsequential. But it was how she felt.

crrk click clack

The door opened in front of her. A small storage chamber. A broom. She could see it falling down next to Fiyori, so when it clashed on the floor with a bang she wasn't startled. Still, no useful loot either way. Except the knowledge she gained. The manual that came with the lock pick set was comprehensive, and Fiyori could read it – having her glasses back and all. And she had a certain thing, she just discovered, for this whole lock picking business. A part of her hoped her parents weren't watching.

Fiyori turned away from the door. She had found Asha earlier, and paid her respect once. When she left the area, she would do the same.

[[Fiyori Senay, continued in Santa Sangre]]

Get Me Away From Here, I'm Dying
Later on, Fiyori would realize that the particular choice of actions she took was less than efficient. Fiyori had feelings, of course, as most humans did. She thought, and she thought incorrectly, that she had those feelings tamed, like one would tame a German Shepard. Of course, the time has come for all to see that she did not, in fact, control her feelings. Fiyori could see, Georgia Lee could see, Olivia could see and so could the entire world.

Fiyori Senay laughed a lot. Fiyori Senay laughed not one bit.

The problem was, and Fiyori would knew too – if only a few hours later – that her way of controlling her feelings was... well, in some way very much not how you actually did it. The emotions she felt were simmering and silent in nature. And if one surfaced, she would whisk it away with ridicule or with sex or with food. Or alcohol. Or marijuana. But sometimes the grotesque laughter with which she greeted all of it wasn't to stop all of it, you know?

And it was one of those moments when she couldn't help it, that her and Georgia Lee's fates would initially intertwine.

It was a deep topic. Or at least Fiyori considered it so. Or at least she would have considered it so. In fact, she considered little. Because Fiyori was furious.

She showed her back. Once. Once just to grab a bag.

Fiyori decided that she would not help GLD with the barricade anymore. And furthermore, she decided that she would take the lock picks.

She could probably use them more, than GLD would ever do.

[[Fiyori Senay, continued in Love Is A Fridge]]

I'm Just a Soul Whose Intentions Are Good
[[Lucilly Peterson, continued from The Greatest Sideshow on Earth]]

Thirty feet.

It had been an estimation. A guess, arisen from no conscious thought pondered by a mind marked with the blessings of geometrical understanding, but from an entirely random and stray crossing in Lucilly's brain. It was an odd number in her head, and though she had plenty reason not to trust her own head she did nonetheless.

Regardless, the essence of the matter at hand, the answer to the question that truly was important: would she die if she were to jump?

Yes, yes she would.

Lucilly thought about jumping, in the sense that she felt about jumping. She felt the ground slipping under her and she felt her skull shattering as it hit the watery ground. Oh god, she could see. She could see it. She could see her neck and she could see her spine and the blood and all that was her diffusing with the dark ocean.

Lucilly grasped, and found a fence. She would not jump.

She would, however, take a step. A wrong step perhaps, or knowing what would come the correct step after all. Either way, Lucilly did something, and then she did slip after all.

Then it was white for a moment. And then it was black.

It stayed black, even though Lucilly was walking once again.

[[Lucilly Peterson continued in a dr34m come true]]