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Viewing Single Post From: Tea Party with Death at Dawn
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party wurmple never sleeps. only dances.
[ *  *  *  *  *  * ]
The words washed over Bryony, swallowing her up, surrounding her, before leaving again with no impact as if they’d never been said at all. Like she was a pebble in a stream. A reed in a lake.

A corpse lying in the surf.

Maybe it had been self-defence. So what? Alba had still killed someone; whether it was done in cold blood or to keep herself alive didn’t matter. How could you look at someone the same way after that? It wasn’t something she should ever have had to deal with, and yet, nowadays, it was omnipresent, all of her friends were killing or dying or dead, and one way or another she’d find herself on that list too soon enough, and there was nothing she could-

Bryony flinched as Alice placed their hand on her shoulder, recoiling as her touch broke through the mist. She looked up at her friend through watery eyes, and the tension left her shoulders and she relaxed and a tiny smile once more broke onto her face. Slowly, the mist drifted away, to be replaced by the dappled morning sun on Alice’s skin.

It was just like she’d thought earlier. This would happen over and over again, this pain and crushing feeling of hopelessness that happened whenever the announcements were broadcast. This would happen over and over again and it would hurt each time and there was nothing she could do to stop it from hurting. What she could do, and what she would have to do, was pull herself out of that quagmire and carry on moving forwards. That was the important part. Know that the island wasn’t going to stop landing blows on her, and that she’d just have to pick herself up, dust herself off, and push on.

She tried not to think about what she would do if someone like Alba or Alice wasn’t around to do that for her the next time it happened.

“I’m not sure…” Bryony mumbled. “She said she was going to come back to the gym, but… um… I didn’t think she… would. Maybe… maybe she headed back that way?”

She’s not a bad person. That was what Alice had said about Alba, but it wasn’t just her that the statement applied to. Alba wasn’t a bad person. Neither was Kaitlyn. Nor Al, or Kimiko, or Nancy, or Isabel. No-one here was. They did bad things, awful and horrendous things, things inexcusable in any other situation. But this was a situation unlike any other. Their hands were being forced. Each person was doing what they personally thought was necessary to survive.

That included herself. That was what she reminded herself, told herself, tried to convince herself of, as her hands balled into fists, and she stared down at the ground, and tried to say what she wanted to say. It felt callous and cold, putting material needs above a person’s, but it might encourage them all and provide a catalyst.

Maybe this would be the means to stop them from falling into despair themselves.

“We have to find her, though… I need to make sure she’s okay, and find out what happened… Plus… um… plus, if we find her, then… um… we won’t have to wander around looking for a weapon, either… we’ll solve a lot of issues this way…”

Bryony let her words hang in the air for a moment, before moving her hands to the right side of her head, reforming her hair into pigtails again.


"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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Tea Party with Death at Dawn · Crematorium Gardens