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Super Llama
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[[G95 была развернута]]

Petrushka followed her sister Olga down the aisle of the clothing store. Ever since they came to St. Paul, Olga had been bugging her about getting out and about and meeting people. Hell, it could even improve her English. Olga was a much more sociable person then she was, and she never missed an opportunity to use it to get Petrushka to meet more people; often dragging her along with her to wherever she was going, getting into conversations with random strangers, etc. And thus here they were. Sure, it seemed like they were just picking out clothes, but Olga would probably chat up the first amiable-looking person they ran into, and then try and get her to join the conversation.

"<Olga, did we really need to come here? I have enough clothes.>"

"<Of course we do.>" Olga replied, homing in on a nearby rack. "<An important day is coming up, and we'll need to make sure you look nice for it.>"

"<Wait, important day?>"

"<Of course, it's all about you.>" Petrushka was feeling confused now, not knowing what her sister was talking about. Her birthday? No, her birthday wasn't for a few months. Try as she might, she just couldn't figure out what important day it was supposed to be.

"<What are you talking abo->"

"<Oh! Here we go!>" Olga pulled a black dress out of the rack and showed it to her. It looked a lot like formalwear, and for some reason Petrushka was starting to feel a sense of dread looking at it. "<This'll look great on you. Go ahead, try it on.>"

"<Olga, what day are you talking about? I don't get it.>"

Now it was Olga's turn to look confused.

"<What do you mean 'what day am I talking about? This is for your funeral.>"


Petrushka stepped out towards the cliff, staring off at the horizon. It had been an hour or so since she had woken up and realized what she had been forced into. She had gotten all her crying and despair out of the way, and now she just felt numb. Disconnected. Like she wasn't really here; just an observer, seeing what she saw but feeling none of it.

She had already opened her daypack and looked through it, seeing that she got he short end of the stick as far as weapons go. Sure, maybe snowshoes would've come in handy if the island were covered in a foot of snow, but here in the early summer they were useless. She thought of just throwing them away, but after a moment decided to keep them, at least as bludgeoning tools if she needed them. She held one of them in her hand, with the daypack hanging off her shoulder (she'd put the items from her normal bag into the daypack and left it behind) as stood there, staring. It was a very nice sunrise, and it at least let her forget about what was happening, at least for a moment.


The obscenity caught her attention, and she looked over further down the cliff to see a girl with a violin, and further down the cliff, a boy attacking the fence in a bout of rage. She stepped closer, assuming that the girl's violin was her weapon, and bowed her head to her.

"Доброе утро." She said to her in greeting, wary of saying anything to the boy, seeing as she couldn't spot his weapon at all, and since he probably wasn't really open to greetings in his current mood.
Edited by Super Llama, Aug 10 2010, 02:18 AM.
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Enough expository banter! Now we fight like men! And ladies! And ladies who dress like men! For Gilgamesh...it is MORPHIN' TIME!

V5 hopefuls:
Hiro Fukuyama: "N-n-no, I-I'm not scared."
Lucy Rosenberg: "If you're looking for friends, I don't think I can help you with that."
Angus McDonald: "To hell with you! If anyone here deserves to live, it's me!"

The Dead

She wanted those horrible metal balls to stop banging against her legs

But would Celeste even want help from a guy that whips out his pistol without a second thought?
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Feeling Kind of Anxious · Southern Cliffs