"We tried to be better, but we aren't. I don't think anyone could last more than a week here if they weren't willing to do bad things." - Alba Reyes

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Namira
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Null sheen.
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((Kris continued from Flicker))

Kris ran a long way. Further, maybe, than she needed to. Losing Etain hadn't been hard in the depths of the swamp, heck she wasn't even sure if he'd come after her or just watched her go. Kris thought she'd heard him call out to her as she'd taken off, but perhaps that was just her imagination.

Half of the time, Kris hadn't paid the slightest bit of attention to where she was going. She'd passed through woods, that she knew, a hell of a lot of them, had she seen a mansion house, too? That seemed about right. In any case, the distance was immaterial. Physically, she'd escaped Etain and the swamp, even Reika's body. But she couldn't run from the reality, the truth of what she'd done. It clung to her like a noxious leech, teeth sank deep into her. Gnawing, festering. Biting down in a place she couldn't reach, could never reach.

Needless to say, a mad dash halfway across the island had left Kris gasping for breath and now she slowed, putting her hands on her knees and sucking in great gulps of air, her (Reika's) daypack hanging loosely from one shoulder. She was in shape, but not for this kind of thing. Not on foot. Kris couldn't recall travelling so far without being on wheels in years.

That still tore at her. Not as much, something else had taken a slight precedence in Kris' worries over the board, but it hurt. She'd had that skateboard since she was five years old. Five. It'd needed repairs, patching up over time, new deck tape and wheels, but it'd come through in the end. Every damn time. It was like part of her family. More than that, part of her damn body.

Roll forward, confident, calm. Down the halfpipe, at speed. Up, then down, up, then down. Enough speed and... go. Spinning. Flying. Happy. A sick realisation. She messed up. This won't be pretty. Godawful landing, right on the ankle. Sprain. Board's broken. Two wheels clean off. Kris cries. Concerned faces - does it hurt? Not the pain. Poor board.

Kris sniffed slightly, then rubbed her eyes fiercely with the back of her arm before straightening up and actually looking at her surroundings. She was at the bottom of a mid-sized sand dune, beyond which she could only assume was a beach (she could certainly hear the sea). Behind her, the sand slowly gave way back to grass. That didn't go a long way to help her figure out where she was, but then, Kris hadn't even stopped to look at her map yet, so that would have been a hell of a feat in itself.

She was struck with the desire, all of a sudden, to look at the ocean, as if that would somehow help sooth her nerves, put some of her troubles to rest. Kris started up the dune at a steady pace, feeling no need to run any longer. She'd eluded, if not everything she wanted to get away from, everything that it was possible for her to escape. It wasn't long before Kris reached the top of the dune and found herself looking down on the beach proper.

And people.

Kris' right hand was halfway to the pistol at her hip before she forced it to stop and clenched it into a fist. What the fucking hell!? She saw somebody and her first instinct was to go for the freaking gun!? Not to start shooting, but to ward people off, for... protection.

Well she already knew how that ended, with Reika lying on her back, blank eyes staring at nothing and a ragged hole in her chest.

Kris actually looked at the three students standing in a group on the beach. She knew all of them - of course she knew them, she'd attended the same school for all these years. Bridget Connolly, one of the crowd of guys that did Parkour, a hobby which often wasn't too far removed from her skateboarding. They crossed paths now and then, weren't friends, but were more than just faces to one another. Steve Barnes, in her art class, almost as much of a sketcher as Kris was, had that same sort of thinking - Kris drew board designs, Steve drew album covers. Dreaming, looking to the future. Lastly, it was... Kimberly. Kris couldn't remember her surname or a whole lot about her, but hey, there was a name. Like there'd been a name and not a whole lot more to Reika.

Kris remembered at that moment that Reika had a sister, a twin sister. Reiko. She gave a little shudder and felt mildly ill, but shook it off to look back at the group. Kris must have looked weird just standing there and watching them.

The skater opened her mouth to speak and found that no words were forthcoming. A simple 'hi' or an affirmation that she wasn't playing seemed a hateful lie, something for the leech to note and feed off. So she said nothing, just stood there, hand halfway to the SIG-Sauer, staring at the trio.

Because that wasn't creepy or suspicious at all, not in the slightest. Right?
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