"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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Eldritch Consumer, Requiem Agent
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((Alexander Seymour continued from If That Looking Glass Gets Broke))

Alex kept moving after dealing with Dom. He hadn't stopped for anything. He'd already taken one caffeine pill to stay somewhat alert, but after going who knows how long without rest things were starting to take a toll on his body. He was slow, tired, weary. He had tried to wash off Dom's blood from his hands and clothes, tried to erase the evidence of his actions. Not out of disgust or revulsion at what he had done, but in order not to convince anyone he came across that he was a threat.

His mind was still debating whether or not he should play the game. Everyone was out to get each other. They all had to watch out. Anyone could spell out demise for whoever they came across. But then again, they were still just kids. Students from the same school. To think that they were being forced to fight and kill each other, and for what?

That's a stupid question. To survive. Survival is the only thing that matters. Everyone is either a hunter or the hunted.

That was it. That was the way to make it in this place. But he had been too careless. Too reckless. Tried to acquire a weapon and failed miserably. Tried to convince himself he was fine around people when his mind was still reeling trying to figure out how this had happened and what changed so much. Injured someone who was unarmed, defenseless, had done nothing to him. This wasn't the self that Alex knew.

It was the self that this place was making him into. Or was it the exhaustion and the confusion that was doing that? Either way, it was bad to continue that way. He had to collect himself, calm down, and figure out what to do. He couldn't let his anger issue and reckless behavior continue lest he get killed. So he had decided to retrace his steps. He had woken up in the coastal woods, gone inland, and was now returning back to where he had started.

It was during this trek that he heard voices. From the sound of them, quite close. He froze. He hadn't expected to run into anyone. Why would anyone come here anyway? There was nothing. Then again, why was he coming back here if there really was nothing?

Stay calm Alex. Think. Be rational. Control yourself. He who loses his composure will only find failure and death.

He went over the situation in his mind. Voices, plural. At least two people. No way to tell if they were armed from where he was. No line of sight due to the trees. Possible that his movements had been heard. Completely unarmed, defenseless against any attack that might come if he revealed himself. Covered in dirt and, despite his best efforts, blood. Blood not his own, which would perhaps be his greatest problem now.

His mind took in all that information, came to the conclusion that it would be unwise to reveal himself. Yet it would be more unwise to be discovered. And it was likely that he was to be discovered. The voices sounded like they were in the direction he was heading.

So my choices are: come out and die, hide and die, or run and die. There's no vantage point to be had here. What a fine mess you've gotten yourself into Alex.

He rubbed his eyes. Being tired wasn't helping. Or might it? If he used his weariness to his advantage...

He decided to come out. He'd pretend to be dazed and confused, just a passerby who was no danger to anyone. He didn't even have a weapon, which should help reinforce that thought. The blood was an issue, though he was sure he could convince whoever he came across that he got that blood on himself in self-defense. Then again, it wouldn't hurt to have some blood of his own. He took a small rock from the ground, and struck himself in the cheek as hard as he could muster.

He stumbled from the blow. It hurt. Pain surged through his face. He coughed. Gave himself away no doubt. But it should help. He was no threat, not yet. If he could convince whoever he was about to meet about that, then he'd be fine.

You're not crazy Alex. You're smart. Who else would be smart enough to be weak in order to be strong?

He smirked for a second, and made his way out to meet the people the voices belonged to. He had a plan, and hopefully they'd be stupid enough to follow it. "Hello? Is anyone there? Can anyone help me?" He came out with his hands up. "My name is Alexander Seymour. I'm unarmed." Flawless, perfect. One way or another, he'd survive this encounter. Survival of the Fittest was the name of the game. And he intended to play.
Edited by Lord_Shadow, Oct 29 2010, 03:56 PM.
Proud Member of the Trans-Dimensional/Temporal Police Department... or a fugitive from justice evading them. Take your pick.

Fanning the flames of war since two topics ago. And loving every minute of it. *EVIL SMILE*

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Still Going Strong · The Woods: Coastal