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party wurmple never sleeps. only dances.
[ *  *  *  *  *  * ]
Shoot her.

Just pull the trigger.

It’ll be done in a second.

Just fucking shoot her.

It didn’t matter what she had told herself. It didn’t matter how much she berated herself. It didn’t matter that she knew this was the only thing that would get her off of this island alive. She just couldn’t bring herself to pull the trigger.

By now, Penelope had moved further into the room, and all Astrid could see in the gap in her hiding spot was the silhouette of the empty doorway. Even if she could have found the willpower inside herself to shoot Penelope, she had no way of doing so now, aside from ripping apart her little base and completely ruining her element of surprise.

Astrid closed her eyes, breathing in and out through her nose, angry and disgusted at herself. It was pathetic. She was pathetic. She was weak as shit, not able to commit herself to a single act, an act that was the only thing standing between her and getting out of this hellhole when she was the last person standing.

But she simply couldn’t find it in herself to kill someone she considered a friend.

Astrid cursed under her breath, rapidfire style, then shifted herself a little, trying to get as comfortable as possible, now that there was no point in staying focused on her makeshift arrow slit.

Her back knocked against something in the pile and sent it tumbling loose, clattering down onto the floor with a metallic clang and a splash. Her breath caught in her throat, before she closed her eyes again and let out a soft, low, exasperated sigh. Well, this entire plan had gone completely to shit in the blink of an eye, hadn’t it?

It took a few more moments before Penelope ripped the sheet off the top of the hideaway to see Astrid’s huddled form, waiting patiently. She screwed her eye shut, blinking furiously as she raised her free hand up in front of her face to block out the flashlight’s harsh glare.

“Yeah, it’s me. Surprise.”

She didn’t have anything else to say yet. She would wait for Penelope’s inevitable questions before she explained herself. She slowly stood up, joints aching, and a sudden stab of pain hitting her in the back. Astrid rolled her neck from side to side, feeling the satisfying click, before she raised her arms up above her head and stretched them. Once she was done, she folded her arms, and fixed Penelope with her best attempt at an emotionless stare. Water slowly dripped from the hem of her skirt, splashing down onto the floor.



"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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