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Viewing Single Post From: Who Died and Made You King of Anything?
Chib
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Oh my god you guys The Riz killed Cara what do!?
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Waiting, even for a few minutes, wore thin rather quickly. It was odd to think how she could distinctly remember sitting in almost the exact same place as she was now, several days earlier, for hours on end, and yet here she was now making a move after maybe five minutes. Mindsets and priorities change. Time marches on, and Ema was finally starting to move along with it. After all, the King Killer was dead now, that left a world of possibilities open. That Raidon guy that killed him could easily move to become the new #1 most feared player, or the power vacuum could consume the other top killers and leave the unknowns like Ema to win the day. Anything can happen in the next half hour... who remains when the curtain falls? Totally gonna be me.

The rather random intrusion of Enter Shikari into Ema's psyche was actually a welcome change from the until-then omnipresent depressing voice Morrissey. A nice injection of energy and optimism into the almost dull routine of running around and trying to be on the "kill" side of "kill or be killed" each day. Forty people left. Most of them with three or more kills to their names, hardened and ruthless, the sorts of people Ema would normally run away from very quickly. But she was one of those forty people now. She had two kills under her belt. She could be hard, she could be ruthless. She just had to put her mind to it and remember that success was the only option, and that remorse could wait until she wasn't fighting for her life. It was just a temporary state of sociopathy, right?

Lyrical thoughts aside, there was ridiculously-out-of-place boredom to attend to. Disregarding both Rou's imaginary voice and the relative absurdity of being able to be bored in such a situation, Ema clambered back onto the bridge proper, and made her way across to the eastern shore. Just as the memories of Janet "It's me! Janet V!", Josie, and Sierra were coming back, and with her vision focused on the area in general rather than anything in particular, her foot knocked against something solid, but with a slight amount of give to it. Naturally, she looked down.

Bodies. Four of them, not clustered together as such, but in pretty close proximity. For some reason, Ema expected, by some absurd coincidence, to see one of those three girls lying there. Instead, and perhaps equally unlikely, she saw somebody else that she knew, hard to identify at first from the savage beating that had been dealt to her head, but eventually recognisable as Gloria Benson. "B-But so-some people c-call me G-G-Glory..." The incredibly shy, stuttery one from the prom. Who was the other guy there at the time? Rob, or Bob, or Robert. Yeah, Robert. Until now, Ema hadn't even thought about Gloria, even considered the possibility that she was on the island as well. Come to think of it, Robert hadn't occurred to her either, or that boy Isaiah. And by now they were probably all dead. Who'd have thunk it, Ema Ryan, outlasting all those people and making it this far? I must be some kind of badass.

She knelt down by the bodies for a moment, pondering whether or not she should do something with them. The river was right there, it was a bog-standard makeshift burial, but it probably beat being left out in the middle of a field with a load of junk and mud around them. Then again, not using that energy up on something that couldn't really help her in the long run also beat using it up and then maybe later getting into a fight and being too exhausted from moving four bodies to win it. Gotta think tactical here. The tactical thinking didn't stop Ema from talking aloud, though. "I'm sorry, Gloria." she began, not quite aware that the words weren't only in her mind. "It's not even my fault, but... you didn't deserve this."

A pause. A laugh.

"Yeah, like anybody else here did." another pause, a sigh, a realisation of what she was doing. "It's fucked up. And what's more, I'm sitting here discussing it with a corpse. Isaiah's pa wouldn't approve." Another laugh. Less than a laugh, really, more of a chuckle. A little inward recognition of the recollection, so unlike Ema to remember such a throwaway comment in such a meaningless conversation, so long ago. The girl manoeuvred herself back from one knee into a sitting position, by now quite at ease in the company of four corpses, with the smell being the only thing to put her off. She looked back over her shoulder, seeing the small column of smoke before the smoker, acknowledging that Hayley was at least awake, up not up and moving. Ema gave a wave, in case the other girl was worried about where she was. She'd go back in a moment, just as soon as she mustered the will to get up. Besides, she still had something to look for, she didn't quite remember what any more, but there was something she'd come across the bridge to find. Something to do with Gloria? No, someone else.

What is even wrong with my bloody memory? Honestly. I remember light conversation from a month ago but not what I was thinking about five seconds ago. This is your brain on Ema.
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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