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party wurmple never sleeps. only dances.
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((Mia Rose continued from They say the hangover after you get drugged and kidnapped by terrorists is the worst))

Mia knew that this whole thing wasn’t going to be easy, but she hadn’t quite accounted for just how many things were going to be a hurdle.

Walking, it turned out, was one of them. When Mia was on her own she didn’t exactly walk most places, she was generally running or jogging, even if she just needed to grab some milk from the grocery store round the corner. But when she did walk by herself, during her brief rest and cooldown periods, or on those rare occasions when she just felt like taking it slow and enjoying the sunshine, she could just plug her earphones in and be content with everything around her, with Pepper and Casey by her side. At school and with friends, it was even easier, aside from the few times that Mia’s excited nature caused her to get a few strides ahead of everyone else. She almost always had something to say, some story to tell that would inevitably become ridiculously convoluted as she tried to recount every minute detail. If she didn’t, then she was always eager to hear what her friends had been up to and what they had to say, so even the longest walks practically flew by for her.

Now that she was on the island, even walking felt like it was taking all the energy out of her seemingly endless wellspring. At another point in time, in another life, this place would have been fascinating to explore. It was a literal ghost town, up and abandoned in a hurry, human activity frozen in time like footprints on the moon, with nature slowly creeping up to reclaim what rightfully belonged to it.

But not right now. Right now, every nook and cranny was a potential hiding spot for a would-be murderer, rather than a place to explore in greater detail. Every spot of shadow required several seconds examination, and every small movement caused Mia to double-take, until she was certain that the culprit was a bird or some small rodent. Any creak or unnatural sound caused the blood in her veins to freeze, whether it be their own footsteps on a loose step, or simply the wind whistling through these old buildings. Even the huge metal bridge spanning the bay had an air of ruin to it, like it was about to collapse at any moment whilst they were walking across it.

It wasn’t exactly easy to drum up conversation, either. What exactly was there to talk about? The scenery? The weather? Candice’s interests, when she had never spoken to this girl until today? Or how about the murder island they were currently stuck on, with any of their former classmates a potential killer? That was a good conversation piece, right?

Mia tried, she really did. Topics appeared in her head and faded away just as quickly, none of them feeling appropriate. A few others did manage to leave her mouth, but dying off after one or two words, drifting off into the wind and nothingness. Maybe it was simply due to her not knowing Candice, not knowing what she would be okay with talking about, especially not in a situation such as this. Maybe it was due to their poor start earlier that Mia didn’t want to say anything, in case she messed up again, in case she fucked up even worse this time.

Whatever the reason was, for the most part, she walked alongside Candice in silence, crossing the bridge, and wandering towards the biggest landmark they could see; the asylum. And why not? It was just as safe as anywhere else on the island right now, after all. Whether that was comforting or frightening was a matter of perspective, of course, but Mia chose to see it as the former. It didn’t matter where they chose to go right now; nothing was a bad choice. The front door, huge, heavy and made of solid wood, swung upon with surprising ease. Mia craned her neck to look back at Candice and mustered up a small grin.

“Wow, guess I really don’t know my own strength, huh?”

Mia turned back to look into the depths of the building, blinking a few times to adjust to the gloom. They had no real prerogative, here; simply pick a direction, wander about and… hope for the best, really. As such, Mia employed the time honoured tradition of ‘eenie-meenie-minie-moe’, taking a few moments to do so mentally, before pointing in the victorious direction.

“Might as well just head this way and… see what’s going on, right?”

Mia bounded up the steps two at a time, her instinct from back home momentarily kicking in, somehow managing to avoid every crack and chip by sheer dumb luck. She had wanted to wander, but she didn’t really want to stay in these corridors for much longer than she had to. This place was just… eerie. The other building across the bridge had been squalid and rundown, but at least the stacks of beer bottles and overturned furniture suggested that life had been enjoyable there. Here, there were metal bars, locks and gates everywhere you looked. Mia hadn’t checked her map, so she had no clue of the true purpose of the building she was currently wandering about in, but she could tell from the imposing fence outside and the dark, oppressive interior, that it wasn’t pleasant.

After a few minutes of walking, something managed to break through the endless squalor and gloom, interrupting Mia’s current task of peering into each and every room that was unlocked. There were voices from one nearby, a couple of doors down. Mia screeched to a halt, shakily pulling the gun out of her pocket, breathing a sigh of relief that it had miraculously stayed in there through her trek across the island. Her finger moved towards the trigger, trying to prepare herself to do… something if she heard anything unsavoury.

Then, one of the voices floated out of the door clearly, and Mia lowered the gun instantly, eyes widening as she moved towards the door.

“Al? That’s you, right, Al?”


"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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