"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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Viewing Single Post From: Fountain of Youth
Hallucinojelly
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God was telling you "not yet".
[ *  *  *  * ]
((Trent Savage continued from Laurel and Hardy Got NOTHIN' on Us))

The third day.

It didn't mean much to him, having slept through the majority of his time here, but he knew that his partner would soon be feeling the full effects the island had on the students. Craig Hoyle sat across the way, busying himself with his belongings as he organized his daypack. Meanwhile, Trent lounged over the edge of the fountain, watching his murky reflection bob in and out of view as the water rushed out of the statue and into the basin below. The morning light was dim - he guessed it was around 7am, though he was probably wrong - and the stone-carved woman stood proudly in the dawning sun, drawing in the boy's perverted gaze as the sun began to cast flattering shadows over her breasts and hips.

In short, he was feeling much better. Having spent the previous night in warm beds, the two were in unusually high spirits - even for someone like Craig - and the feel of sheets and mattresses was much more intoxicating after spending the night before sprawled out under leaves and dirt. The colour had almost returned to his cheeks, albeit slightly greyer than the average guy's, and his head was feeling enormously better thanks to the soft caress of real pillows. Still, he wasn't in perfect condition, as his eyes refused to stop blurring every now and then, but for the most part his head was throbbing much less painfully and he could actually walk without need of support every five steps.

And so, with no-one around to interrupt them, they began to sort out their possessions while they had the time. Craig was already close to finishing, but Trent on the other hand? Well, he hadn't even bothered to look. After all, he'd lost his duffel bag somewhere near the ranger's station, meaning all the stuff he needed was already tucked nicely into his daypack, which lay ready by his feet. The only thing missing was his assigned weapon, the kanabo (or "big club-thing" to Trent), but that had a different home - in his hand 24/7. Craig had told him all about the encounter with the boy in the cabin, and now that he was well enough, he was going to offer his partner a more solid form of protection than the one he'd been giving him so far.

In fact-

*SSSSSKKKKKKKKRRRRRRRRRRREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE*


Oh, fuck no.


That sound.



That awful sound.
Edited by Hallucinojelly, Oct 10 2010, 05:51 PM.
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