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Pippin
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party wurmple never sleeps. only dances.
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Bryony flinched at first when she felt Alice’s hand on her shoulder. Then, as her brain worked whose hand it was and why it was there, she relaxed, shuffling a little closer to Alice, closer to the source of comfort. It was the only thing that really was comforting right now, after all.

‘Dead was dead.'

It was an almost too-obvious statement, but it still sent a stake into Bryony’s heart whenever she thought about it. Dead. People she’d grown up with were dying around her. People she loved, people she cared about, people she hated, it didn’t matter. People she had been expecting to spend decades in contact with and hearing about. Dead.

They were dead, and there was nothing they could do to change that, and there were still people they could find and save and stay with and hope and pray for the best case scenario, but that didn’t stop the gnawing feeling of despair inside of her.

There was nothing she could do for the dead now. But she could have kept some of them alive. She could have stopped Bradley from insulting a known killer to her face. She could have persuaded Henry to come with her and not wander off to get killed by Al, of all people. She could have stayed with Bridgette the whole time and maybe they would have both got the upper hand on Caedyn. It was all well and good to say that what was done was done, there was nothing they could do about it, and they should just move on. But it was so very hard to get rid of the ‘What ifs?’ in her head.

Bryony sniffed twice and hiccupped before she pawed at her eyes to try and force away the ever-present tears. She looked down, took her glasses off, and wiped the dust and tear stains away with a corner of her sleeve.

Sandra was right, though. There were still people out there. There were still friends out there. Everything wasn’t completely hopeless. She’d found Alice and Sandra, after all. It still hurt, the knowledge of all the people that had died. The guilt was still pressing heavy against her heart about all the people she thought she could have saved. It hurt, and it would still hurt for a long time. But she couldn’t let it break her.

Just keep going forwards.

It took a few moments for Bryony to process Sandra’s last few words, however, so quiet had they been. When they finally did hit home, she slowly turned to look at her friend, eyes wide open, mouth slightly hanging open.

“A… A weapon? Like, um… like a gun?”

Bryony didn’t have time to focus on how stupid that had sounded before she realised she was blinking back tears. She sniffed again, looking at Alice, and then back to Sandra.

“Why… why would we need a weapon? We’re not like those… those… those people, um, on the announcements, we’re not going to kill any… anyone, we… we…”

Bryony’s voice trailed away, and her gaze drifted off to look down at the floor again, as realisation seeped through her. It was day five on the island, now. There were already people out for blood, roaming the island. There would, no doubt, be more people who started to do the same for whatever reason. People who had been holding out desperately for rescue who had just given up, perhaps. A group of three girls with a deck of cards their most potent source of defence? They would be nothing more than three walking corpses to someone like that.

It was almost impossible to think this way. Almost impossible to imagine herself holding a gun for any reason, or searching for some kind of weapon. The idea had terrified her on the first day. Truth be told, it still terrified her. But to keep moving forwards, she had to adapt. She’d adapted to having to live on the island. She’d adapted to being by herself for a full day and surviving. Now she had to adapt to the fact that they couldn’t stay defenceless forever.

She had been right, though. Earlier, in her now-dead speech. They weren’t going to kill anyone. They weren’t going to go out searching for people to slaughter. She could trust Sandra and she could trust Alice. They just needed something for self-defence.

Bryony was silent for a long time.

“We… um… we need more than one. Um, weapon, I mean. I… Ideally, um, one for each of us, just in case we, um, get separated.”

Thoughts of Alba flashed through Bryony’s mind. God, she hoped the other girl was okay.

“How are we going to, um, get anything, though? I, um, don’t think anyone with a weapon would just wanna… give them up to us…”

Bryony sniffed again, and tried her very best to crack a smile.
V7 BAYBEE

FOLDER OF DESTINY

"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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