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Gypsy Rap
Topic Started: Nov 1 2010, 05:29 AM (5,103 Views)
General Goose
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Don't cast aspersions on my asparagus.
[ *  *  *  *  *  * ]
((Harun Kemal continued from Calculations)).

It had been another surprisingly uneventful day for Harun. Frankly, there was still some tension (of the non-sexual kind) between him and Rashid, but all in all, he was probably one of the lucky ones. He had had some relatively peaceful, under-the-radar times on the island, time to think about his life and grow accustomed to the concept of his imminent death being broadcast on national TV. He was with a guy he'd like to consider a friend, he hadn't seen any dead bodies (well, he'd seen or smelled a few in the distance, but always made a u-turn, coming up with a few weak white laws as excuses to justify it to Rashid) and he hadn't starved to death yet.

Truth be told, Harun was getting a bit bored. Maybe it was withdrawal symptoms (his parents did always tell him the time he spent on the computer constituted as an addiction), maybe he was just fed up of walking around with no direction and no clear short-term objectives (he had a rather simple long-term objective; escape with everyone he cared about. The rapidly expanding more cynical part of his personality had already written it off.)

Still, being bored was better than being mentally scarred for life or insane or crippled or dead.

Harun suddenly heard voices that he was obviously getting closer to, and he looked up to try and see if they were within his field of vision. Despite the fact that a vast majority of the trees were chopped down in this neck of the woods, things like hills or plain distance could make it harder to see people. Before he could finish scanning his whole field of vision to see if he could spot anyone, he stumbled on a withered tree branch that had been lying there undisturbed since its home was cut down.

Letting out a small yet quiet yelp as he fell forward, his hands reaching out just in time to prevent his face from landing on the rough ground, he looked up at Rashid, and whispered to him "You go see if you can find them. I think you should be the one to introduce us first this time around."

He didn't have much of an idea on who they were. He hadn't been focusing on what they were saying, but he swore he'd heard the word "penis" and its synonyms thrown around a lot.
Edited by General Goose, Dec 7 2010, 07:22 AM.
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As Rashid did all the formalities and got the attention of the group nearby, Harun began to climb back up to his feet, dusting the dirt and various insects off his jeans as he did. Straightening himself back up, he tried to get a better look at the group Rashid was calling to. Now, he was pretty tall anyway (though about average for Bayview's gigantic senior male population), but he wanted to get a clearer view, so tip-toed on top of a shrivelled old tree root to get a slightly higher view.

First things first: his suspicions were confirmed when he instantly noticed they weren't killing each other. Sure, they didn't exactly look happy or well-groomed, but by now, no-one on the island was. In fact, they looked relatively friendly and informal with each other.

In a couple of seconds, Harun scanned the members of the group. Two girls were there; a small Asian girl, Sarah Tan, one of three Sarahs he knew and the one he knew the least (Sarah Xu ran the activist club he remembered so fondly and Sarah Atwell...well, he didn't exactly know her well, but apparently she had gone batshit insane so Harun wasn't ashamed to admit he'd kinda be scared shitless if he saw her) and a slightly larger but still quite small girl called Stacy Hart (who Harun didn't really know quite well, aside from the glaringly obvious facts that she was a punk and she was pretty energetic.)

And then Harun noticed who the two boys were.

Erik Laurence/Lauren/whatever (another person Harun knew, but not THAT well, he mainly knew him through Brendan) and Brendan Wallace.

Aside from Rashid, Brendan could be said to be the first person Harun had encountered on the island that he considered a friend. Not a best friend, but what the hell.

And, while normally Harun's greetings for his friends were quiet and fairly formal, Harun was understandably pretty damn pleased to see a friend of his alive and sane and (relatively) healthy on the island. So, he enthusiastically shouted out "HEY BRENDAN!"

Well, it was more of a "Hey Brenda-!" before he was cut off when he slipped off his tree root and landed clumsily on his back.

"...Fuck."
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[ *  *  *  *  *  * ]
Things were finally looking up.

He'd found yet another of his friends. Even if they were all going to die, having people he could trust and talk to be with him in his final days was a comfort.

A small comfort, admittedly, but it would be enough to keep him going. Enough to keep his spirits up. Enough to keep that idealistic flame of optimism burning away. Enough to keep him from finally snapping and losing his last links to mental sanity. At least for a little while longer.

As Harun climbed back to his feet to get a look at Brendan and his newfound allies, using the nearest tree stump for support, he had a genuine smile on his face. It was a small one, but it was the first one he'd had in quite a while.

And in just a few seconds, it was gone.

The next of Danya's depressing announcements had begun. Harun had almost forgotten about them in his temporary happiness, and at first his reaction was shock. He was not expecting one for a while. And this one hurt.

Admittedly, Vera wasn't his best friend. But she was still a friend, someone he could talk to, someone he hoped to reunite with on the island, and one of the people he'd have liked to escape with.

Staring solemnly at the ground, Harun had no idea what to say, what to think or what to do.
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Following the latest update on the dead, a seemingly long, awkward silence followed, the only noises being Danya's animated voice continuing to ramble on meaninglessly in the background, and the occasional cough from Harun himself as he struggled to hold back tears of stress, anxiety and simple sadness.

Vera was dead. Of course, Harun, like Brendan, didn't really know her that well. Logically speaking, the only connection they had, the only reason her death hurt any more than Albert's or Jackson's or Samaya's or whoever's, was the activist club. Harun didn't really know much about her or her background or her interests beyond the obvious. Hell, Harun wasn't even sure if "friend" was the correct term to describe her.

Like with Brendan, the fact that the two hardly knew each other wasn't exactly making things easier for Harun. (The first funeral Harun attended, that of a great uncle who lived in Turkey when Harun was only 8, had been tragic for Harun for two reasons, firstly that his mother had cried, and a great way to make an 8-year old cry is to make his mother cry, and secondly that he never got to know the uncle in question better. The first reason wasn't really relevant here, but the second was). The fact they were both members of the activist club meant that, at the very least, they shared similar interests and world views, so they could probably have became closer if Harun had emerged from his shell and put some effort into it. But no, he didn't. He spent all his time on internet forums and games.

Hell, that was the main thing he wanted to do when he got back from the trip. Check on the forums and play some more games. But no, that was buggered now. All his, for lack of a better term, internet friends would have to make do without Harun. Hell, all the things he wanted to do with his life...finally read that Lord of the Flies book, finally get round to completing Ocarina of Time, get to know X better, ask Y out, get a job in games or politics...

All that stuff, gone out the window. Hell, he didn't even bring the Lord of the Flies with him.

And Vera's death, the first activist club member (friend?) to lose their life to the game, had left Harun staring at the ground, ignorant of the movement and talking that was coming from the clearing behind him. He was unaware that Danya's morbid list had long drawn to a close, unaware that the impromptu group he was now (probably) a part of was now back to discussing more pressing concerns, unaware that Brendan had just entrusted Stacy with a gun.

He eventually noticed Rashid was beside him, offering him a hand to help get him back on his feet. Mumbling a refusal, Harun climbed back to his feet himself, groggily scanning the area around him. Looking at Rashid reminded him that Hermione had died too, which sent another jolt of negative emotions down his body.
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While Harun was preoccupied with organising his thoughts and violently coughing his guts out, Brendan turned around from his private conversation with Stacy to address the group. His suggestion was pretty simple; they all get some sleep, deal with all the proper stuff in the morning. Considering Harun had had very little sleep over the last few days (hell, even during the night hours in the last few days before the stupid trip, he'd spent most of it browsing the internet), he was in no mood to disagree. Even with the possibility of someone throwing a bundle of dynamite in their midst or slitting all their throats while they slept, sleep still sounded awesome. Harun felt like he was on the brink of a mental breakdown, and sleep seemed like a great way to postpone that eventuality.

Propping his bag up against the nearest convenient tree stump for an improvised pillow, Harun made a grunt to show his agreement with Brendan's idea, then threw himself on the floor, trying to get comfortable. It was hard on the rough, dirty, uneven ground with a clunky bag serving as your pillow, but it was decent, in comparison to the rest of his time on the island.

"Night ev'ryone, sleep dreams."

Of course, he meant sweet dreams, but he was too tired to notice. Within a minute, he was asleep like a log.
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Harun never had many dreams, nightmares or otherwise, in his sleep (in fact, he was one of the best pieces of evidence against the story that eating cheese before bedtimes gave you nightmares. Harun loved his mid-night cheese), and the island had done little to change to that. The uncomfortable position he was in and the rather lumpy improvisational pillow he was using had, if anything, made dreams even less likely.

Harun was, quite simply, enjoying his sleep. He was enjoying not having to worry about his friends or his own life, or having to have internal debates on whether there was an afterlife after his inevitable death. It was probably the best rest he had in quite a while, and by the time he woke up, he had fully recuperated from his abysmal mood the night before, and arguably felt the best he had felt for the several days and nights he had spent wandering about aimlessly on the island.

Of course, remembering he was on an uncivilised island in the middle of nowhere with the objective of kill or be killed caused all his negative emotions to flood back to him, and, groaning in frustration and anger, he buried his head back into his pillow, ignoring his surroundings.

Eventually, he decided to look up from his bag and take in his surroundings, only to find Brendan was half-way through a monologue about leaving.

Which was just fucking great. He'd spent the last few days desperately searching the island, hoping to find another person he could trust, only for them to decide, for some retarded reason known only to themselves, that they were gonna wander off.

Excellent.

A bemused, frustrated look on his face, he decided not to try and convince Brendan to stay (he looked pretty determined to go through with whatever dumb quest he had in mind), decided not to complain at any point despite his relatively low view of Brendan's latest decision, and didn't give a shit in any way when Brendan decided to give Erik a heartfelt kiss before leaving, instead preoccupying himself with checking his bag still had all his essential and non-essential supplies in, and nothing had crushed under the weight of his big fat ugly head.

When Brendan actually left, Harun muttered a casual "bye, see ya, take care" and got to his feet. Despite the unintentionally uncaring tone in which he said it, he did hope Brendan was safe and he did hope he'd see him again soon. But, still, he was too tired to show any real emotion (he'd probably used it all up over the last few days) and instead slumped against a tree stump.

"Well, that sucked."

"Now what?"
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((Sorry for crappiness of the post, and yeah, we need to transition/end this thread soon))

Stretching his arms and torso, and letting out a lengthy, almost comical yawn, Harun climbed to his feet. Giving only an obligatory, half-assed nod of acknowledgement to the new girl (was she a new arrival to the group? Or had she been here all the time and Harun had just been too thick to notice her? Meh, big fucking deal), Harun absentmindedly twirled his sword-gun over in his hands, completely forgetting nearly all the basic knowledge he knew about gun safety.

"Anyhow, bed awaits. Come get some sleep Bead Girl."

Harun felt he had had more than enough sleep just then. Any feelings of tiredness he still felt were just his eyes being stupid. The rest of him was fine.

Except for his bladder. He needed a piss.

"Be right back, need to pee. And if we're all gonna have another nap, guess it's my turn to keep watch."

And with that, he wandered off a short distance away to relieve himself behind one of the many generic tree stumps.
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((Getting out of here with Rash, this thread is getting confusing now.))

After emptying his bladder (Harun had been waiting a long time to do that), he returned back to the make-shift "camp site" to find everyone soundly asleep. They were sleeping far too soundly for people mixed up in a murder game.

Even if Harun hadn't already promised to keep watch, he was pretty much obliged to now. He was never one for rudely waking people up, he was too meek and shy for that, and admittedly he was probably the least tired out of all of them. Even if he did get tired...no biggie, he was used to all-nighters browsing the web, listening to the same album looping over and over again, only stopping to go to bed when he got too bored or when the threat of his parents waking up and lecturing him to death got too great. He was a natural at staying up doing pointless shit.

Of course, here, he had very little pointless shit to do aside from sitting around staring blankly into space scratching his ass, so within a few minutes, he was tired, bored and cranky, and resisting the urge to just rest his head on a tree-stump for five seconds and catch a little nap.

Luckily for Harun, throughout the night, nothing of interest happened. No surprise announcement, no crazed psychopath lusting for blood and/or supplies, no sudden slump into depression or madness, no surprise bear hungry for a Turkish desert to compliment his helping of Megan Nelson. The number of bullets in his sword-revolver (which was rapidly losing its novelty and badass status in Harun's eyes) remained the same as it was back in the mansion. Hell, none of his new companions even talked in their sleep.

Harun swore that one of them had a really irritating snore though.

And so, Harun just did stuff while waiting for the sun to rise, Danya's latest scheduled announcement of misery to start and his companions (most of which he'd never talked to much before) to stir. He listened to his music on his iPod (which had been safely lodged in the back pocket of Harun's jeans, where he'd forgotten it existed) until the battery began to get dangerously low. He took out one of those books he brought on every trip he went on in the hope of finally getting around to reading, but had never even opened the front cover up until then. It was alright, but not worth the long wait. And at one point, while particularly bored, edgy and fidgety, he went off to a blind-spot a short distance away from the group and "gratified" himself.

Yep, he'd needed that. Nice way to let off some steam.

By the time the sun came around, he had bags under his eyes, he was pining for his old life back in dull old Minnesota (he would kill, or at least cause mild bodily harm, for his shoddy old computer and a nice shower) and he had spent the last hour mentally debating the possibility of an afterlife. He felt worse than he'd ever felt in his entire life, and, if you wanted Harun's opinion, that was saying something. Yet, he was still alive, he was not gravely wounded, and he had not yet seen someone brutally murdered in front of his own eyes, so he was probably part of a very lucky minority.

Not that the fact he was relatively well-off made him feel any better.

Too tired and too depressed to pay much attention to the announcements as they played, he decided he'd ask Rashid for any key details later. Talking of Rashid, he was already up on his feet. Swinging his cumbersome bag onto his back, Harun walked past Rashid and began to leave the campsite. "Right, guys, I need to stretch my legs and there's no point in staying here. Let's get going, guys." With Rashid in tow, Harun left the clearing.

((Harun Kemal and Rashid Hassan continued in Keep On Smiling.))
Edited by General Goose, Jun 1 2011, 09:45 AM.
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