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Viewing Single Post From: Everyday is like Sunday
Chib
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Oh my god you guys The Riz killed Cara what do!?
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Singing? Heh, that was funny, the only person odd enough to be singing in a situation like this had to be Ema herself. So why would she be hearing it? Because she was coo-coo pants, obviously. Nobody could actually be singing, because she wasn't, and there wasn't anyone else around, and if they were, jeez, how crazy were they? Besides, she couldn't be, her mouth was busy. It must just be in her head, so, jeez, how crazy did that make her? Well, another thing for the list of things for Ema Ryan not to dwell on. Stop thinking. Keep calm and kiss the girl. Deal with encroaching SAN loss later.

...

No, that singing was definitely audible. It was getting closer, too. Music in Ema's own head never changed distance, it was always just... in there, so to speak. Directly within her brain, with one volume and no concept of displacement. The volume was variable, but never for the same piece of music, that would be weird. As if the rest of it wasn't. So it was real, and someone really was singing. It was confirmed by the sounds of movement, the rustling and the twig-snapping, just about audible under the volume of the boy's take on... God, was that... some kind of hair metal? Ema could no longer pretend to ignore it, she opened her eyes, not long before Hayley too reacted physically. Which is to say, whirled around and pulled a gun out.

Ema would've gone for her own, but it didn't take long to realise the newcomers were no threat.

No wait. Ema corrected herself.

No immediate threat. Might be armed and hostile later on, but for now, not a threat.

Paranoia everywhere in this bitch.

But back to the second dynamic duo in question, and how Ema actually knew they weren't dangerous. Because Hayley instantly lowered her gun and gave them (well, one of them) a greeting about as warm as she'd received a week prior. Turns out his name was Jay motherfucking Holland, and Hayley was happy to see him. The girl's identity remained a mystery.

"Want a smoke?"

Ema's palm made its way swiftly to her forehead. Of course. Jay was one of Hayley's non-herself friends. The kinds that do the sex and drugs and rock and roll thing. The whole drinking and smoking deal. Well, she wasn't about to deny them a self-destructive reunion, so Ema just gave a sort of impassive wave to the as-yet unidentified Janet, holding out hope that she wouldn't be joining them, leaving Ema to stand upwind by herself.

On the bright side, new friends. That's gotta be worth something.
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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Everyday is like Sunday · Southern Cliffs