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Day of the Dove; Day 3 : Sunset. Open
Topic Started: Oct 10 2010, 08:45 PM (4,044 Views)
Jonny
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You hate kings and you think kings are really stupid. They are petty, bossy tyrants and are really full of themselves and are basically awful in every way.
[ *  *  * ]
((Charlie DuClare continued from Time Is Not On Our Side))

Sunset felt good and warm and safe against Charlie's face, and she decided that she wasn't gonna miss it again as long as she lived. She'd fucked it up the first two times, first by being too pissed off to stop and notice it, and then by sleeping through it. It wasn't gonna happen again. Sunset was worth stopping for. It felt great, it felt right. It was supposed to be there, and she didn't mind it being there, and all told, she was fucking glad it was there. It belonged. There weren't a whole lot of things that belonged on this island- her collar didn't belong, the creepy announcer guy with the grating voice didn't belong, fucking Blanderson and Retard Cowboy didn't belong.

Dave and Isabel belonged. Good for them.

That was all Charlie was gonna say on the subject for now, because she was frankly a little sick of it. Every waking moment since she'd met up with the two spent thinking about whether she liked them, whether they liked her- Christ, she wasn't that needy, was she? Every joke followed up with a silent wish that it hadn't offended Dave or Isabel, every word those two said vigilantly monitored for indications that they sucked. It was exhausting. And she was done with it. Dave and Isabel belonged. That was her final word on the topic. Wasn't gonna change any time soon. If they did something retarded, Charlie would forgive them. She had plenty of forgiveness to throw around.

Maybe a good time to finally check her weapon. Right? She'd wanted to save that big reveal for a rainy day, but... things had changed a bit since she'd skipped out of the mine shack. They didn't already have a gun, for one. Isabel had her adorable pet trumpet, and Dave had... what the fuck did Dave have? Probably not something good. If it was a gun or something he'd have revealed it by now, shown Dave and Charlie how safe and sound they were by now. So it probably sucked. Maybe he'd even ditched it. On account of how much it sucked.

So that left Charlie to be the group's protector. Fuuuuuuck. That would be... awful. Just a terrible idea all around. Could she give her gun to Dave? Would he be okay with that? Probably. Nobody was gonna say no to getting a gun, so of course she could just give it to him, so of course that would just work out and it'd be great. It'd be great, so there was no reason to delay any further, so Charlie tore into her bag and searched for whatever big shiny gun was waiting for her, had been waiting for her the whole time.

It was a handheld mirror. It was a bit of a disappointment.

She stared at it for a little while. Turned it around in her hand a few times and ran a finger along its edge. Wondered what the hell she was supposed to do with it. "Maybe if... if we could somehow attach it to... the trumpet..." It was an alright idea. Whatever. It wasn't like there was too much else to do with it. So don't give it to Dave. Just slip it back into the bag. Just lie down again, because the sun is still setting.

It was right about then that a mousy-looking sort of girl walked up, looking just cartoonishly nervous and meek. Awwww, adorable. And she... huh. She was asking if she could join Charlie. And Dave and Isabel. Which was... Charlie honestly didn't know how well that sat with her. More friends were good to have, obviously. But not everyone was a friend. Not everyone could become a friend. She'd tried back at the shack, good fucking lord she'd tried so hard, and she'd still walked away empty-handed. It wasn't something Charlie really wanted to repeat.

Charlie shot a look at her two best friends on the island. Sorta sour, sorta unsure, sorta I dunno how I feel about this. It elicited a raised eyebrow from Dave. Well that was a pretty clearly worded answer. That was pretty much a divine mandate to go turn her head to the new girl and ask, "Uh... are you sure you wanna?" To pause and look... a little embarrassed, honestly. Of something. "... we're kinda mean."

There. It was for the new girl's sake. It was about protecting her from getting her heart broken by some devastatingly catty remark from Charlie or Dave. Yes.

That's what it was all about.
Jeremy Franco is alive. You can write a better ending, goddammit.

Charlie DuClare is dead. And nothing was easy anymore except to smile.
Julian Avery is dead. Courage was the man with a gun in his hand.
JJ Sturn is dead. Fuck it, all good things gotta come to an end.
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Jonny
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You hate kings and you think kings are really stupid. They are petty, bossy tyrants and are really full of themselves and are basically awful in every way.
[ *  *  * ]
Welcome, Helen! Welcome, because we're so... welcoming. Nothing but smiles and hugs here. Yeah, we give great hugs. The best hugs of all.

She was alright, Charlie supposed. Charlie couldn't really dislike her, since she wasn't anything... offensively bad. Probably a really nice person when you got down to it, probably didn't have a mean bone in her body, probably volunteered at... an animal shelter, maybe? Charlie pictured Helen cradling a kitten in her arms. Yeah, the shoe fits. So that was all well and good. But she... Charlie couldn't really like Helen either. Where were the awful jokes? Where was the spirited defense of the dignity of a trumpet? Where was the casual racism, for Christ's sake? There is a Latina right there and yet I do not hear a single derogatory remark. For shame, Helen. For shame.

Dave and Isabel had set the bar pretty high as far as first impressions went. Helen was having a bit of a hard time living up to that standard.

And so Charlie decided she was going to listen very closely to every word Helen said, because every word was an opportunity for redemption. Every sentence was a chance for Charlie to think to herself Alright, I guess she's not so bad after all. I guess she can stay. I guess she gets a hug. So pay close attention. Pay close attention as she talks about the batteries in her iPod running out and as she all of a sudden starts to look really sad. Which was... huh. Which actually poked and tugged at Charlie, just bit. That shit was not about to fly. Helen had just dropped a pretty serious sadness bomb on the otherwise happy sunset fiesta, which meant Charlie was gonna cheer Helen back up again.

Okay. And she even had an idea, brilliant. The only problem was that Helen was still talking, some useless small talk bullshit about everyone's names. I'm Charlie, which is short for Charlotte, but you can call me Claire if you'd like! God knows you wouldn't be the first one on this island. So Helen needed to shut the fuck up right now, because Charlie was about to start cheering her up, because Charlie was about to be nice to her, which was kinda a big fucking deal. Alright, Helen was finally done. Here goes:

"Hey, uh, if you're worried about not getting to hear music anymore, don't be. Isabella over here is a virtuoso on that trumpet of hers. Seriously just world-class, y'know, she's been giving us these little concerts and it just blows my mind every time." Charlie looked over at Isabel and grinned. She had no reason to believe Isabel was anything other than complete shit at the trumpet, and that just made it even funnier. "You, uh, you think you got one more in you? I can sing along if it's a song I recognize- and I've been told by some very reputable sources that my singing voice is absolutely decent." That part was true. Charlie was decent. She really, really was.

There, everything was set in motion. By the time Isabel was finished farting out a lovely rendition of Hot Cross Buns, Helen would be rolling in laughter and she'd have forgotten all about that stupid iPod. And Dave... Dave could try to rap again, maybe. That didn't seem like it ever stopped being perversely entertaining. Yeah. This was fun, this was happy. This was good.

This was all really, really good.
Jeremy Franco is alive. You can write a better ending, goddammit.

Charlie DuClare is dead. And nothing was easy anymore except to smile.
Julian Avery is dead. Courage was the man with a gun in his hand.
JJ Sturn is dead. Fuck it, all good things gotta come to an end.
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Jonny
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You hate kings and you think kings are really stupid. They are petty, bossy tyrants and are really full of themselves and are basically awful in every way.
[ *  *  * ]
Face full of giddy expectation, a little five year old grinning widely so widely because she's about to hear music for the first time in her life. It's gonna be oh shit, Twinkle Twinkle Little Star? Hahahahahaha, this is fucking priceless! So she steadies herself, barely manages to keep from bursting into laughter, and she starts to sing. She's got a pretty voice, but anyone who knows anything about music would be able to glower at her and say something about how the pitches and the keys are all wrong and the sharps are all flat. She goes: "Twinkle, twinkle, litt-

"OH JESUS FUCKING CHRIST!"

Unexpected. Just a bit unexpected to hear a huge murderous elephant of a note coming out of the trumpet. Caught Charlie off guard a little, gave her a bit of a scare. But then? Made her laugh. A real, genuine sort of laugh, where she threw her head so far back she ended up losing her balance and plopping onto the grass again. Yeah, Izzy. I think I like you just fine.

"If we ever get off this place, Isabel, I will buy all your albums. Every single one."

It'd worked, hadn't it? Helen seemed happier. Helen was cheering up just fine, she was even laughing, she was even making a joke of her own. Cheer up, Helen, cheer up, cheer up! And everyone else too! This isn't so bad, none of this has to be so bad. It was... weird. A really weird feeling, to be having a good time out here. To be safe and sound and smiling and laughing. And friends. And good friends that she already felt like she'd known a lot longer, that she wished she'd known a lot longer, that- fuck me, why didn't I ever bother to... Didn't matter. She had them now. It was all good for now.

But it was all so fucking delicate too. Any minute, something was going to come along and ruin everything. Something like a huge asshole or a stray bullet- or a very deliberately-aimed bullet- and then it'd all come crashing down. No, no, no, no, not yet. Please not yet. One more day, please. One more sunset for all of them to look at. One more, and please please one more after that. And after that, and after that, and as many sunsets as you can possibly spare. Please. Just a few more smiles and songs before everything comes crashing down and you won't be able to do shit about it, Charlie DuClare. You won't be able to do shit about it.

But that just means you don't have to worry yourself to death over it either. It'll happen when it'll happen. When it does, I can start freaking out. Until then... no way in hell I'm gonna waste this happiness.

And then there was a boy. He probably sucked, and he was probably about to ruin the great thing they had going, and... for Christ's sake, Helen was barely integrated into the group! They had to get to know her a little better first, make her feel more welcome and part of the gang, before they let anyone else join in. It was... no, no, no. Not now. Please just go away and maybe come back later. He was asking if they minded if he joined in. Do we mind? Are we opposed? There is a very clear answer.

"Yes."

Which, if Charlie's ears hadn't deceived her, Dave had said at the exact same time as her. She could help but give Dave a little roguish grin. Yeah, Dave. I think I like you just fine.
Jeremy Franco is alive. You can write a better ending, goddammit.

Charlie DuClare is dead. And nothing was easy anymore except to smile.
Julian Avery is dead. Courage was the man with a gun in his hand.
JJ Sturn is dead. Fuck it, all good things gotta come to an end.
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Jonny
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You hate kings and you think kings are really stupid. They are petty, bossy tyrants and are really full of themselves and are basically awful in every way.
[ *  *  * ]
So Helen had flunked out of band. So Helen was telling that story and not really acting like it bothered her. So Helen was comfortable with the idea that, on occasion, she sucked. Perfect! If you are going to be Charlie's friend, you should probably be pretty comfortable being told you suck (though when she says it, she'll totally be smiling in a way that indicates that she doesn't really mean it and she's just having fun and we're still friends, right?) Hence a little sigh of relief under Charlie's breath, a little loosening of her shoulders. Sometimes good things happen.

The asshole over there, though? He did not fall under the umbrella of good things. He clearly had no mental concept of fucking off, and now he was- he was... seriously? Seriously. He was brandishing a fucking tire iron and shouting threats at- if Charlie craned her neck and got as good a look as she could- what looked like someone small. Someone unarmed. Someone probably scared out of their fucking mind, and here comes this cock-holster with his tire iron talking about I don't want to hurt you, but- No buts, asshole. You either want to hurt people or you don't. And since you apparently do, Charlie has a few words she'd like to get off her chest.

"Seriously? That's what you're gonna- are you fucking kidding me? You seriously think that this is the time, this is the place to make your fucking threats? Nobody wants you here. You can go jack off with a fistful of broken glass, kay? And take your stupid tire iron with you." Hmm. Maaaybe that all sounded a little too harsh? She should probably say something else.

"And hey, uh... new girl?" It was a girl, right? Getting mistaken for a girl is not the first thing you want to happen to you right after some asshole threatens you with a tire iron. "Sorry you had to hear that. I'm- we're a lot nicer than that usually, promise! And you can... come... sit with us if you want? For a bit? You don't have to listen to what that balding friendless virgin says. And we- I think I already like you a bit, just 'cause you're not that asshole."

That was... welcoming? Maybe? Here, throw in a big friendly welcoming wave, that'll definitely do the trick. The girl will see that there's nothing to be scared of, that there are some friends real close, that if the fuckhead tries to start some shit, he'll have a football player tackling him to the ground and a trumpet smashing his face in. Forgive the girl who keeps saying insults and swear words, okay? She just wants to assure you of all those things, she just wants to make sure you know you're welcome, you're safe, it's okay, you can rest your head for a second.

That's all it is, promise.
Edited by Jonny, Nov 7 2010, 04:27 PM.
Jeremy Franco is alive. You can write a better ending, goddammit.

Charlie DuClare is dead. And nothing was easy anymore except to smile.
Julian Avery is dead. Courage was the man with a gun in his hand.
JJ Sturn is dead. Fuck it, all good things gotta come to an end.
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Jonny
Member Avatar
You hate kings and you think kings are really stupid. They are petty, bossy tyrants and are really full of themselves and are basically awful in every way.
[ *  *  * ]
You suck, Helen. You suck because you introduced yourself in a way that made Charlie temporarily doubt that she could get along with you. Made her doubt that she'd grow to really really like you, doubt that you'd ever say something that would make her sincerely grin from ear to ear. And you just did those things, Helen. You just shut down that aggressive retard without even breaking a sweat, and now Charlie just wants to give you the biggest hug in the world. If you were this awesome all along, Helen... well why didn't you just say so???

But this wasn't quite over yet, so the great big hug would have to wait. The asshole with the tire iron was still there, and he looked like he didn't even realize yet that he was retarded. So there was still work to be done. But maybe... just maybe, Charlie should try something other than suggestions on how the asshole ought to jack off. Helen had just done it, right? There were other ways to play this game. Better ways, maybe. Ways like this:

"She's right, you know. And I mean... we get that this island is scary, and that we got a shitload of scary people on it." So don't go treating us like idiots because we have a basic sense of human compassion, mmmkaaaaay? "Hell, on my first day here a girl tried to murder me. With a hammer. In the face." Tapped her nose with a finger, pointing out the specific target of the attempted murder. "And then a guy shot at me right after that. And Dave and Isabel? They both saw a guy get killed by a chainsaw. Right in front of them. So don't try and lecture us on how the island is dangerous. We know."

Deep breath now. "That said... if it takes you this fucking long to realize that this poor girl over here's not a threat? If it takes you shouting at her and brandishing your tire iron and interrogating her while she's fucking crying, while she's fucking terrified of you? Then I don't know what I can do for you. I don't know what anyone can. If you're gonna be that goddamn paranoid, you might as well just lock yourself in a shack and avoid human contact for the rest of your days. Spare everyone the trouble of cleaning up after you when you get this overzealous."

Ugh, not that helping the scared girl out was trouble, it wasn't a burden or... God damn this stupid fucker making her say things like that and... Charlie let out a deep sigh. "I think you maybe just ought to go, big guy."

Fucking exhausting, to deal with that pathetic little shit. And, well... if yawns were any indication, Helen found the whole thing exhausting too. There, that was two of them who clearly wanted to go to sleep, so the motion clearly passed... because... Isabel clearly got... half a vote. Little sniffle, little yawn. Yeah. Sleep sounded good. Getting back on something approaching a reasonable sleep schedule sounded good. So it was time to take decisive action.

"Alright guys, I dunno about you but I'm all tuckered out. Nose goes to determine first watch!" Charlie put her finger on her nose before she was even finished talking. She kicked ass at Nose Goes. "You can stay the night with us if you want and we'll look out for you, uh... sorry don't actually know what your name is, hi, I'm Charlie, nice to meet you!" This was addressed to poor scared girl, of course, because the asshole with the tire iron got a resounding, "You can't stay. Fuck off or me and Isabel will beat you to death while Dave lays down a sick rap about us beating you to death."

And all of a sudden Charlie was lying curled up exactly where she'd just been standing, her daypack as a pillow. "G'night, folks! Fuck you if you wake me up, but otherwise sweet dreams to everybody!"
Jeremy Franco is alive. You can write a better ending, goddammit.

Charlie DuClare is dead. And nothing was easy anymore except to smile.
Julian Avery is dead. Courage was the man with a gun in his hand.
JJ Sturn is dead. Fuck it, all good things gotta come to an end.
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Jonny
Member Avatar
You hate kings and you think kings are really stupid. They are petty, bossy tyrants and are really full of themselves and are basically awful in every way.
[ *  *  * ]
Waking up is supposed to be a good sort of thing a happy sort of thing where today doesn't have any problems yet and you've squared away all of yesterday’s I mean for fuck's sake you squared them all away and the girl was safe and the asshole was going leaving gone and everyone was all friends I mean everyone is all friends because they'd just solved a problem as a team they'd just helped that poor girl out as a team and all the problems were gone they had to be gone they just had to be gone.

Then there is the waking up. And there is Dave who says fuck within a minute of waking up- so this is good, this is normal, Charlie is used to this and finds this endearing- and then there is Isabel. Who is on the verge of tears. Who is betrayed, who is broken. Who doesn't... who suddenly doesn't like Dave and Charlie as much, looks like.

Within two minutes of waking up, there is a problem. This scares Charlie. This scares her because you cannot solve this problem yelling at it or joking at it. You cannot solve this problem by threatening to beat it to death while rap music plays in the background. And so all of a sudden Charlie DuClare is quite useless. Yesterday was good, yesterday was so good, but yesterday is over and Charlie's good moment is over and all of a sudden she actually has to deal with the fact that she's on an island packed to the brim with murder.

Those friends of hers, who were so cool and who she was so so so glad she'd met? They had other friends too. Some of those other friends were dying. Some were killing. And it was just gonna keep happening. And there was no way in hell that Charlie was gonna be able to figure out what to do about that, what to even say to something like that, so it was just gonna keep happening and it would never get better and it would just get worse and worse and-

And it could happen to you. And it will happen to you.

So there were those thoughts. Same as always, maybe, but just a bit scarier than they'd ever been before. Daring Charlie- just daring her- to run away from them. Same as always. Well, well, y'know what? Fuck you. I'm not gonna run away. I'm gonna... gonna...

"Well, we could... mmm... oh, I got it! We probably ought to go... wash up, or- uh, just get ourselves clean in the river a bit. We've been walking around a few days now with all this dirt on us and I'm sure we'll feel-" don't say good, don't say good, you have no right to tell Isabel when she'll feel good again- "a little better after we wash up. Okay? Um." A few seconds of pause. Say something. "Everyone's invited! And we can.. relax. And decide what we wanna do next. And everyone- everyone gets a voice in what we do next, yeah? Everyone- ugh, fuck it, we'll figure it out when we get there."

That did not count as running away. No, no, there was no way that counted as running away, so don't even try to tell Charlie it did. They were off, right, and they were going to make it to the river and things would be better, things could start to get better again. And she just had to wait for the moment, wait for the specific moment where it'd be okay to put a hand on Isabel's shoulder and ask her very gently Do you wanna talk about it?

A little part of her wondered if that moment was ever actually going to come.

((Charlie DuClare continued elsewhere))
Jeremy Franco is alive. You can write a better ending, goddammit.

Charlie DuClare is dead. And nothing was easy anymore except to smile.
Julian Avery is dead. Courage was the man with a gun in his hand.
JJ Sturn is dead. Fuck it, all good things gotta come to an end.
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