"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: and you may say to yourself, "My god, what have I done?"
MurderWeasel
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Somehow we drifted off too far...
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Rhory kept a very close eye on everything Kimberly was doing. She kept her gaze fixed on Kimberly's hands. Bitch. Only one of Kimberly's hands was even really worth watching, but Rhory couldn't know that. By this point in the game, a bandaged shoulder could mean any number of things, from the very minor to the imminently-fatal. None of that really mattered, though.

What mattered was that it took Rhory a second to reply after Kimberly referred to Aislyn. What mattered was that Rhory was playing with the barrel of that fucking gun. What mattered was that it was becoming all too clear where this was going, and Kimberly didn't like it one bit. She performed a quick reassessment, trying to figure just how many holes she could put in Rhory before dying of blood loss. She hadn't planned to kill anyone else. She'd been so sure she'd never murder again. That was already being put to the fucking test, though. The feelings mounting inside Kimberly were familiar, though it had been some time since she had been assailed by them to this degree. Rhory was just another Kris, just another tormentor, just another bitch getting off on the power she held.

And Rhory was implying awful, awful things. She was admitting to all sorts of stuff Kimberly couldn't have imagined on the worst of days. She'd, what, fucked Aisyln's body? No. No, that made no logical sense at all. That was Kimberly's defense right now. She had to voice her objections, had to make Rhory admit that it was all bullshit.

The barrel of the gun clinked on the button of Kimberly's jeans, and she flinched.

The gun started to move further. Time to do something.

"You, uh, you fished her out just for that? Seems there are lots of easier targets around."

Call her out. Distract her. Just... something.
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and you may say to yourself, "My god, what have I done?" · The Felled Forest: North