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party wurmple never sleeps. only dances.
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It was growing increasingly more obvious that, yes, bluntness was in fact Bridgette’s MO. Bryony was on the verge of tears in front of the girl, and on the edge of spilling everything that was in her heart and her mind to a girl she barely knew, just because they were the first person who’d stopped to listen to what she’d been through since Alba had joined up with her on the beach a stone’s throw away. And yet the expression on Bridgette’s face barely shifted further than neutral, the tone of her voice not rising above the same.

Maybe she didn’t care about Bryony’s plight, and was just talking to resume some sense of normality. Maybe she really did, and just struggled to get those cares across in the way she spoke. Bryony really had no idea. This was beginning to make her realise just how few people she really knew at Kingsman, just how few people she could truly count as friends. So few people, stuck on such a huge island, with killers, multiple time killers, roaming around as well. What were the chances she would manage to find them again?

It was almost enough to make Bryony want to stop and give up again. Almost, however, was the vital word. There was something inside of her that kept her going, no matter what bullshit was aimed in her direction. She sketched one last thing in the dirt on the docks with her finger, an almost instinctive thing, really; something she added to every sketch she made just to show it off as being hers. Then, with a shaky breath, she stood up again and looked at Bridgette.

She barely knew Bridgette and she had no idea whether she’d ever see Alice or Sandra or Alba again. That just made it even more vital to get closer to anyone who was even vaguely friendly in this place.

“Um, sorry… I guess that wasn’t exactly the best choice of, uh, words. I mean, um, technically I did get attacked, by the guy who stole my stuff, but I don’t, um, know who… who he was…”

Bryony let out another shuddering sigh, closing her eyes and taking a couple of calming breaths. She was tripping over herself and rambling. She just needed to focus and relax. Easier said than done, but she had to try anyway.

“I… tried to escape, on the first day. As soon as I’d woken up, even… and when, uh… and when that didn’t work… I was completely prepared to, um… to… die. I couldn’t see any other way out of this thing, especially not for me, and I just wanted out. But… Alba was there, and she talked to me and talked me out of it and she… just made me realise that there’s always some hope left. And… and if you can’t find it, you’ve got to make it yourself…”

Bryony twined a strand of hair from her right pigtail around her finger. It was getting kinda loose. Next time she got a chance to rest she’d have to sort it out. It was a strange thing to worry about, but she’d managed to inspire herself. Maybe, by some minor miracle, her hairstyle getting messed up would be the only issue she’d have to deal with from now on.

“Would you… um, would you care to join me? To look for Alba? I could help you find, um… anyone you’re looking for, if you wanted…”

Bryony glanced down at the ground, catching sight of her scrawling in the dirt.



"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