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half Iago, half Fu Manchu, all bastard
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Erik was cold. The wind wasn't blowing particularly hard, and the day was bright, but by the ocean the air was thin and blew with a bitter chill. He had been cold for a while. His cotton tee wasn't doing much, but he couldn't bring himself to move yet. Standing meant turning around, meant joining the students, meant killing - or being killed.

He shuddered, fingers still twisted in his bracelets. Huddling a little closer into himself, he stared fixedly at the birds, wondering if he just sat here long enough - if he just sat here long enough, everything would just go away. But there was something mixed in with their plaintive cries. Something like...


Erik turned. For a moment, there was nothing but the forest, outlined bright against the sun, and a silhouette in front of him. Something inside of him twisted to the snapping point, pushed by the knowledge and realization that, for better or worse, he was now a part of the game. And then it was replaced by a rush of something like relief as he took a step forwards, voice cracking as he strained to see the student in front of him.

"M-Mike? Is that you?"

marc st. yves

light it up or burn it down we'll all die in fire

lydia hausen

if you don't look down you don't have to fall

sebastian conway

everything will be okay in the end

(so you've got to keep in mind, when you try to change the world for the better not everybody's gonna be on your side)
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Come & See · The Beach: North