"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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Cicada Days
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👀 (credit to Kotorikun)
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Uh wow, he'd actually done it. The purr of a swiveling camera even seemed to mark the occasion, record it for posterity. The princess and her subject. What was that old dead wise but decidedly white person saying? First time for everything?

Like a first time to make Jeremy eat his words.

“You’re not doing that great of a job at convincing me, here.” And here Irene thought their discussion was back lockerside for a second. That was how Jeremy always rebutted her when they'd joust philosophies in the hallways. Heaven forbid the times he'd actually bring evidence up!

"C'mon man, even Danny' agrees with me. Or I agree with him, either way. That's a two out of three, you're the inferior side of the ratio yo." How was that evidence for ya? One didn't argue with math, except in the form of pleading and entreating the textbook when all hope, all calculator battery power was lost. "I mean maybe it's not Bradley, as smart as he is with words he might be too stupid otherwise. But would you put it past, like, some unholy amalgamation of Darius Fiyori and Isabel?" Man. Even trying to envision that aborted DBZ throwback was a hell of a case of vertigo and nausea. As quasi sort-of lovable as they all were they were terrible problematic people. They were probably on this island right now, as Irene spared a second to think about them probably being on this island right now. Were probably still terrible problematic, in that order.

Note to self. Find those people fast. That meant moving away from this spot fast, because no amount of craning and pulling at the neck was going to make the faces attached to those names make their debut in Irene's field of vision. If only life were that easy.

“We seem to be on some sort of beach..."

"Uh, duh? And they call me the derp." 'They' being the aggregate population of Kingman, give or take the population of Vegas. Irene tisked and suddenly clenched her fist around her little scale-model prop of a legwarmer. With a single pump of the arm, a single pump of the pump, and a self-admittedly badass display of her own 'I am Irene hear me rawr in fluent dinosaur', the Mossberg was suddenly saluting the sea. Barrel staring down the shore, and some unfortunate scavenging seagull who quickly fluttered away. Sorry little guy! Didn't mean to scare ya! You were just on the only cardinal axis that didn't involve a Cochise High School student's entrails. Now, normally this was the part where Irene explained what she was doing. Presented her hypothesis and the intended methodology of testing in awkwardly gratuitous detail and poor attempts at jokes. But. Eh. She was happy to maintain her thesis of insulting Jeremy. After he saw how right she was that'd be another person to capitulate to the prince-

A gun was fired. If you asked Irene she'd say that shit was pretty loud.

Reaction was sort of a moot point. She sort of just toppled, the rigid force of the shotgun erupting throwing the butt of the handle into her chest like a club. She didn't have time to make an ass of herself with additional pointless flailing and gesticulating. She just fell onto her behind with the definite crunch of sand, one she couldn't hear when the world to her was silent as she was.

Her thoughts on the other hand were loud, but mostly in the form of 'ouch'.
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I Say You Kill Your Heroes And Fly, Fly, Baby Don't Cry · The Cove