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party wurmple never sleeps. only dances.
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A wry smile appeared on Astridís face in response to the other girlís reaction; an overreaction, really, as far as she saw it, and a reaction that showed a complete lack of awareness of the situation they were in. Was she going to react that poorly to every loud noise that occurred around her? Was she going to assume that every area on the island was a safe haven for her and get surprised every time someone barged in uninvited? Either this girl was naÔve as all hell, or she was just stupid. Neither was a good luck for her.

The plan that had been forming since Astrid had woken up in the bell tower, thudding away in the back of her mind, was growing larger and larger with every second, looking like the only logical option, no matter how much she didnít want that to be true.

There was a voice from inside the room, male this time. She recognised it, but that meant very little. Astrid could recognise the voices of most people in her year, but that didnít mean she could put a name or a face to them. There were very few people who she could identify by how they sounded alone, and those were the few people Astrid was close to at school. This voiceís owner was completely unknown to Astrid, which meant they werenít someone she had any reason to care about.

Astrid didnít respond to the voice. She wasnít prepared to yet. She told herself it was because she could hear someone else walking out of the room towards her, that she wanted to hear what they had to say first. But that wasnít even close to being the main reason why she didnít say her name just yet.

She was keeping her options open. Yeah. Thatís all she was doing. That was a lie she could believe.

The new guy was another person Astrid didnít recognise. She seen him around school, but that was the extent of their association. Another effective stranger. Another person whose fate, at this moment in time, Astrid had very little interest in.

Whilst Haroldís future was something Astrid didnít particularly care about, right now, he was a figure in her own present, and that was something she did care about. Instinctively, she took a step backwards, getting a little more space between them both, glancing him up and down. He was big, tall, and obviously physically strong. On top of that, he was holding a sword, pointed down at the floor, a mirror of Astridís gun aimed at the ceiling. The worst part was that she didnít know what this guy was like, emotionally. Was he laidback and logical? Or irrational and quick to anger. Astrid had no clue, and because of that, she had to assume it was the latter. A gun didnít mean much if her neck was broken before she could pull the trigger.

ďHow about this?Ē Astrid replied. She lowered the gun, and stuffed it in her jacket pocket, zipping it back up. ďIím not here to start a fight or anything stupid like that, but Iím not letting this leave my side. You alright with that?Ē

Astrid didnít wait for an answer, slowly walking forwards towards the entrance of the room. She kept the boy in her field of vision, turning her head slightly and looking him dead in the eyes. She was going to show this boy respect, but only to an extent. She deserved respect as well. She wasnít just another number, ready to be shoved around and told what to do. That had never been who she was.

Astrid stood in the doorway, took a look into the room, and felt her heart sink a little. The other girl was in there, out of the way and irrelevant, but the third person was instantly recognisable, even if they didnít share any of the same interests or social circles. Ty Yazzie attracted attention and notoriety like flies to a corpse. He was another big, strong guy, and whilst Astrid generally turned her nose up at anything that was brought up by the rumour mill, even she had heard that Ty had a tendency towards violence and aggression. This was definitely a situation she was going to have to keep her wits about her in.

She hoped, and feared, that Ty didnít recognise her.


"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
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Thirteen Steps · Group Therapy