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Oh my god you guys The Riz killed Cara what do!?
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Pacing around got old pretty quickly. Under normal circumstances, Ema could've put together the framework for a story she'd never actually write in the time she'd been alone. She could've sat down, wandered around, lay down and closed her eyes, whatever, and half-daydreamed, half-imagined up a plot. She would've thought the sword in her hand would have actually helped, back before it came to be there. If anything, it was one of the bigger factors sapping her creativity. The biggest, of course, was sheer waryness. Ema didn't have time to zone out when she was the only one protecting Hayley's, Kyle's and her own stuff, including two extra bladed weapons and a gun. Or at least, she was moderately sure they'd been left behind, unless the other two slept with their respective weapons.

"Well holy shit Emms, you managed to go off on a tangent that went somewhere useful!"

Emms? Nobody had called her that in years. She didn't dwell on why it had come to mind just then. Instead, she did the sensible thing that had come to mind, and redirected her pacing towards where Hayley had left her daypack. The girl took a cautious look around to make sure she was certainly alone before cutting off her field of vision, and proceeded to unzip the bag. "She won't mind, right? It's just a gun, just making sure nobody else gets their hands on it, and it's more use to me than a sword..."

She set her falcata aside, leaning against a tree and, out of... respect? Ema didn't really know, but whatever it was, she half-averted her eyes whilst digging through Hayley's things, trying not to identify anything that wasn't gun-shaped. As luck - or logic - would have it, the weapon was very near the top, and didn't take long to find. Ema took it, closed the bag, and stood up straight again.

It was an odd feeling. The gun felt lighter than she'd expected, and conferred an odd sense of... not power, not really. More importance, for as much sense as that made to Ema herself. The sense that having it in her hands had instantly - however temporarily - elevated her to a much more influential position in the island's hierachy. The position of someone who could point a barrel at someone else, and get what they wanted. No matter what the description was, it certainly felt good. The inherent danger that came with it didn't really occur to Ema just yet.

And, as she went back to her pacing, which had by then become more like a patrol, taking the safety off hadn't occurred to her yet either.
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

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