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party wurmple never sleeps. only dances.
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((Bryony Adams continued from Lavender))

Walking had very quickly turned into a serious effort.

It wasn’t far from the storehouse to the docks, and Bryony felt a little more energetic after she had taken her impromptu nap and actually eaten something, but a single food bar and a quarter of bread hardly counted as a meal. She was hardly an active person at the best of times, and her muscles were aching from her trek across the island. Her feet were sore, and she could feel a blister beginning to form at the back of her left foot.

Whatever she’d done to injure her knee in her fall had been more severe than she’d first thought, too; every other footstep sent an angry jolt of pain shooting through her leg, made worse whenever she stumbled over a divot or a bump in the earth. She had to stop a good few metres away from the docks after one trip too many, sitting ungainly down and gently massaging a knee that felt like it was burning, breathing through gritted teeth and blinking tears of pain from the corners of her eyes.

From her prone position, her heart slowly sank, as she could tell now that Alba wasn’t amongst the small group at the docks. One of them she recognised from the halls and a few classes but couldn’t put a name to, one of them she was almost certain was Bridgette from art club, and the third person seemed to have stumbled himself; he was getting back up now, but from this angle Bryony couldn’t tell who it was still.

It wasn’t the most welcoming of groups in the world, and she was still no closer to Alba, but she couldn’t just keep wandering around by herself. She needed more food and, maybe, some help for whatever she’d done to her leg. None of them looked as though they held anything too threatening; no guns in hands at the very least. At a time like this, beggars couldn’t be choosers. One of them might even have seen Alba at some point.

As soon as the pain in her knee had died down enough that it didn’t bring tears to her eyes whenever she moved, Bryony picked herself up and headed down to the docks, as briskly as she could manage.

“Hey, um… um, is everything alright here?"


"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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In This Starless Night · Docks