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Chib
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Oh my god you guys The Riz killed Cara what do!?
[ *  *  * ]
[Instinct --> Ema Ryan]

The short trip was uncomfortably reminiscient of Ema's second day on the island, a journey made from ex-forest to forest in the rapidly dimming light of evening, towards a largely uncertain destination. A journey which, the first time around at least, had been spent mostly freaking out due to urban-myth-based paranoia. This time, though, well armed and well allied as she had since become, Ema wasn't particularly worried. She was just nostalgic, for want of a better term, thinking about how much things had changed in less than a week.

For one thing, she wasn't alone. She wasn't afraid, either, not actively. The base level of wariness could never truly go away, not even if - unlikely as it was - she won the game and went home. No, she was pretty sure she was afflicted with paranoia for life, however short that may be. She was also armed, holding the faintly gleaming not-sure-what-kind-of-sword-it-is sword casually in her right hand, so used to its familiar weight that it now felt reassuring to have it around.

Most importantly, though, and most abhorrently to her own thoughts, Ema wasn't affected by what had just happened. Witnessing two other deaths at Hayley's hands beforehand, and hearing about the demises of both Eve and Janet just hours after leaving them behind, had put paid to her sense of remorse that had once gone alongside her close proximity to death, violence and everything that went with it. She even, in those occasional moments of pure pragmatism, ventured to think she was capable of killing people herself. They didn't last long, though, and her rational mind quickly reminded her of how badly she'd fare in a fight, whilst her emotional one claimed "You're just not that kind of person.", though Ema had started to reasonably doubt both.

She did have a sword, and backup. She'd seen enough of other people killing each other not to be effected by it. What was stopping her getting in the game herself?

"This'll do."

---

When she finally awoke, Ema didn't remember much of the previous evening, or the train of thought she'd embarked on before falling asleep. She didn't even remember falling asleep, come to think of it. But it was to be expected, the girl had always been a heavy sleeper.

Speaking of heavy sleep, it appeared she'd already missed the opening snarky remarks of Danya's morning announcement. She didn't bother getting up, or even sitting up, Ema just rolled over onto her back and paid attention. She recognised only more names than usual this time around. Isaiah Garvey, that awkwardly polite boy she'd met just before the prom, had apparently snuffed it. Snuffed it? Ema didn't even have it in her to chide herself for the calm way she dismissed the death of someone she'd known personally, though not closely. It was early and she didn't really care who died any more, as long as it wasn't her or Hayley. Or Maddy, or Kyle, she soon corrected. Maybe Alex too.

"I don't really care who dies?"

Danya then went on to tell the trio what they already knew about Hayley's exploits from the day before, met with grandiose I-don't-give-a-fuck-ery from Hayley herself. The next few names caught her attention; Michelle O'Cain and Ridley Landon, the other two she'd spent her first day at the Key with. She didn't know how to feel about Rid, he'd seemed nice enough, but the girl knew she was pleased to hear Michelle was gone, that one had been nothing but trouble for the few minutes they'd spent together.

"I'm... glad she's gone?"

The rest was uninteresting. Ema made a mental note of the new danger zones - the Town she still hadn't been to, and the Ranger Station, which she had barely even noticed was on the map in the first place - and that "Ms. Gweneth", presumably the Tabitha Gweneth that had killed Clio Gabriella, had won a new big deadly weapon. One big bad killer off the list, one new, well armed one added. Status quo is god.

"How am I so damn casual about all this?"

"Because you have to be. Man up and get in the game."

Silence filled the air, following the announcement. Ema was busy thinking, trying to figure her own mind out, something she was all too used to doing. She figured Hayley and Kyle were up to similar introspection, as movement and discussion was at an all time low. So Ema didn't bother getting up just yet. Against all odds, laying there on that towel and under that blanket and not with Hayley this time, sucks but oh well she was actually comfortable. Moving around didn't seem like a great idea.

"Kyle, You want to go for a walk...?"

"Let's go."


---

Ema didn't begrudge the couple - "Yup, still a couple. Yup, you're still the third wheel." - some time spent alone. She didn't like the idea of being left alone herself, but she wasn't about to protest. The threesome's group dynamic didn't need any m-- fuck did I just say threesome no no no that was a bad choice of word. They didn't need any more awkwardness, that was the point. Once they'd been gone a few minutes, the lone girl forced herself to get up. She rolled up her blanket and towel, dumped them both in her daypack.

Then she regretted having done so as soon as the smell of her own body reached her nostrils. She re-opened the bag, shoved the sleeping stuff aside, and rooted around for fresh clothes and deodorant. Figuring that she was alone, as far as actual people went, cameras be damned, Ema muttered an apology in case anyone she knew was watching, and started to undress.

"Not like I'd get anyone but the short-arse ginger fetishists anyways."

The girl stood there for a few seconds, looking down, staring at herself. It had always been pretty damn obvious how much she lacked any real figure, but for some reason it stuck out to her for a moment. Maybe because there was a good chance she was on camera that very moment. She regretted not wearing anything underneath her shirt, despite there being little-to-nothing that needed hiding. Luckily, the underwear she did have on wasn't nearly as mortifying as what Hayley might still be wearing. Ema was glad not to have ruffles on her ass.

When she was done changing, and both looking and smelling notably less like she'd been dragged through a fen backwards, Ema dumped the old clothes back in her bag - she told herself she might be able to wash them, but it was more an inability to throw stuff away - and retrieved some bread and water for breakfast. Enough of both left to last another three or so days, she estimated. She made short work of the breakfast portion, and had to resist the urge to overeat; got to ration this stuff.

The problem was how quickly it all went. Announcements, getting yourself up, eating, and the additional time taken to change clothes, it all went by very quickly. Alone in a forest, waiting for your companions to come back from don't-want-to-think-about-what-they're-doing-with-that-privacy, there wasn't much to do.

So Ema paced. And she thought.

Eva, Ridley and Michelle are dead, I probably would be too if I wasn't leeching off of Hayley. I still haven't gotten my hands dirty, and it'll only make it worse when I'm not used to it and only hardened killers are left. It's pretty bloody obvious I'm not as over Hayley as I thought I was. I don't want to think about where she went with Kyle because I don't want to decide they're probably screwing or something. I'm all alone with only a sword to defend myself - she paced back across to her daypack, took the falcata out from underneath it - if someone comes along.

This morning sucks ass.


(Also retroactive editing win?)
Every time you fall asleep you die. Someone else wakes up in your body, thinking they're you.
You are alone and trapped in your own mind, the world around you is your lie.
Soon you will be nothing, you will never again hear sounds, never again see colours, never again be anyone.


Riley Moon appreciates that Action Needs an Audience, but it's hard not to watch. Hair Status: Bubblegum Pink
Parallel with: The Heavy Weapons Guy

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Without Love, It Cannot Be Seen · The Woods: Coastal