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Lonely American Nights; -Open- late night day 6 moving into 7
Topic Started: Mar 3 2011, 03:01 AM (3,141 Views)
Moth
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[ *  *  * ]
The sight of a sword pointed at her was enough of a bitchslap to make Celeste stop her screaming, though the tears still flowed down her face. She panted, throat feeling sore and raw, looking from the tip of the sword to the guy holding it. He was pointing it at her like it was a gun, or like he was some weird anime character but...well, he could still run her skull through, couldn't he?

The thought was further supported when the guy said that he could, and would, kill Celeste too. Her and the only other living person in the area. Granted, he had tears falling down his cheeks just like Celeste did, so maybe he was bluffing...or just in a state of terror and shock. Such a person really would kill them, wouldn't they? After all...judging by his attempts to rationalize killing Tim, he'd been scared right before impaling the poor guy.

"Get out of here..." Celeste echoed numbly, feeling a little lightheaded. Too much was happening now, too much had happened within two minutes. "And go where?!"
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Pippin
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party wurmple never sleeps. only dances.
[ *  *  *  *  *  * ]
((Oh god I'm slow. No excuses really, sorry))

George had no idea what he was doing. He had no idea what he was going to do, or what was happening. At the moment, there was only one thing on his mind, and that was getting the hell out of the swamp. Would he have to kill Celeste and the other guy to do so? Stop there from being any witnesses? Not that that'd help with the announcements, but...

So, George, here it is. Can you kill another innocent, unarmed person?

George kept the sword pointed at Celeste for a few more moments, before his arms fell to his sides. No. He couldn't kill her, or the other guy. He didn't know why, but he just couldn't. Celeste was speaking now, softly, sounding almost giddy and unaware. George was starting to feel the same.

"I... don't know" he replied, looking down at Tim's corpse. "Just go anywhere, it doesn't matter to me, I don't care. Honestly, I hope I never see either of you again."

And on this rather cryptic message, George picked up Tim's bag, and left the two others. First he would return to Dustin's final resting place, to deposit Tim's belongings.

From then on, he had no idea where he'd go.

((George Leidman continued in The Cavalry Arrives))
Edited by Pippin, May 24 2011, 07:03 PM.
V7 BAYBEE

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Greg The Anti-Viking
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On the left is a mod, on the right is a pre-made psycho...get the picture?
[ *  *  *  * ]
Morgan had little time to react at what had happened in front of him. At one point, Tim was standing in front of him. Calling out for Celeste, and forming their group. Morgan would have told them about the boat, and why Jen's corpse had to come with them. And then, just as suddenly, Tim was on the ground. The sword had been placed in his gut, and swiftly pulled out.

He was at a loss for words, and found himself stepping away from the figure that killed him. There were a bunch of words that were purely white noise to him. Why had it all gone wrong? Why was it that this was happening to him? All he had wanted was to get home. He wanted to get Jen home. And now, it wasn't even possible to bring her home alive. He just wanted to bring her home now. But even that...

Morgan was brought back into lucidity when he was being pointed at. He was being told to leave. His head turned back to where Jen's body lay and let out a silent "no". It couldn't happen. There was no way that he could leave her now. But what could he do? His gun was with her. And now he was unable to move.

He turned his head back to the man holding the gun and to his surprise, he was gone. He had turned his back and ran away. There was something about that that gave Morgan a vigour from within. He had been spared. Somehow, he had been spared. His first instinct was to run back to Jen. He was alive! He could get them to the boat!

He could be forgiven.

Morgan rushed over to his backpack and gun and looped them back on. There was no time to lose. He had to get to that boat. Otherwise.

Otherwise he could be next.

And then what would he do? What could he say? How he could he tell Jen that he was sorry?

"Alright Jen," he said, placing a hand behind her head, "Just bare with me here..."
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B054:Oscar Trig-Smoker, Artist, Film Buff

Please, message me if you have ideas, I sure don't!

Fall down seven times...
Stand up eight...
Japanese Proverb
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Moth
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He just...left. Just turned and walked off. He didn't give a damn about Celeste's presence or Morgan's. Didn't try to kill them, just...said he didn't care where they went and walked off.

It was almost funny. Almost. In a twisted sort of way.

"Ha...ahaha..." Celeste couldn't help laughing quietly, head bowing as her shoulders shook. Her bangs fell over her eyes, her hands going to cover her face, getting more mud and gunk on her. But she didn't care, or really even notice. "It's...ahaha...it's like...I don't..." she tried to say in between low laughs, not even sure herself what she wanted to say. But it was just too funny!

First her ally had abandoned her. Then her boyfriend, the one guy she really wanted to be with and be protected by, was killed before they could even reunite. Then the nice guy who had offered to let her into the group, let her have some protection, was impaled right in front of her. It was like Celeste was a walking bad-luck object, like she was cursed. Everyone she came in contact with, everyone she believed would help her, got killed or left her. A more selfless person would have come to that conclusion and just walked off to be alone, to spare anyone else from being killed.

But Celeste would be the first to admit it: she was a selfish, selfish girl.

And there was no fucking way in hell she'd try to be alone, even if she was cursed.

It only meant the person she was with would have to try even harder to not die, work and sweat and bleed but never die. They can do that much, can't they? she thought as her laughter finally faded completely and her head lifted back up. Surely...surely a little more work...they wouldn't mind it!

"Aha...h-hey...i-if you're still back there..." she gasped out, turning her head very slightly, addressing Morgan. "If you're still there...you think you got...room for one more?" Room for one more...wasn't that a line from an urban legend? Yeah...some lady refused to go into a crowded elevator even after the man in black said those very words.

And then everyone in that elevator died.

Well, if Celeste was going into that elevator too, at least they'd still be in an elevator together. Wait, why the fuck was she thinking about elevators?

"Can you still lemme in? ...I promise I won't curse you too bad...I promise."
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Greg The Anti-Viking
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On the left is a mod, on the right is a pre-made psycho...get the picture?
[ *  *  *  * ]
Morgan had initally found it difficult to carry the body of Jen Romita. It was a struggle to keep himself from dropping her onto the ground. Until he had remembered a pose from an art class that he had remembered seeing. He couldn't remember the name of the artist, nor the name of the piece, but he used it to help him now. His arms acted as a cradle for Jen's body, and he kept her close, he had better balance that way. His breathing was slow and measured. He was close now. He just had to keep going.

A voice had called out to him in the distance. The voice of the girl that they had found in the swamp. Room for one more? Yes. There was room for more people to join them...If she wanted to come. Why not?

He slowly trudged through soft earth to get to the girl still kneeling in the mud. He flashed a thin smile and nodded.

"Yeah, you can come with me. I found something towards the coast."

The warm feeling returned to him. The boat...Thoughts about the girl in his hands. She of all people deserved to get out to the island. Morgan, he deserved little and in fact, expected little when he got home. He had failed her after all, in so many ways he had failed.

Mosture welled into his eyes, but he fought it back.

"It's going to be slow going, but...she has to come with us..."

He shuffled his grip and sighed.

"Alright...lets go..."

Please...I just want...

((Morgan Leftowitz continued elsewhere))
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B054:Oscar Trig-Smoker, Artist, Film Buff

Please, message me if you have ideas, I sure don't!

Fall down seven times...
Stand up eight...
Japanese Proverb
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Moth
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"Something?" Celeste repeated. That cold be anything. A bear-trap--they could use that, right? A house...food...some weapon buried in the sand...

It'd be a good-luck charm, wouldn't it? If something was found and it was useful, the laws of nature declared it a good-luck charm, so it could be able to counter the curse that seemed to be on her. Or counter her being a curse, whichever. It could still work.

"Don't care if she comes with us," Celeste mumbled, carefully unsticking herself from the mud and slowly following Morgan and the dead girl. "Doesn't matter to me...Finding good luck is finding good luck..." Her mouth twitched into a tiny, nervous smile as she glanced around, taking in the dead body of Tim nearby. She was sorry to leave him, but it had to be done. if the time was taken to give everyone a proper burial, they'd all die in a few minutes.

That may have not been so bad, actually...

Celeste shook her head. No, thinking like that makes the curse worse, probably... she thought, following her new companion out.

(Celeste Beaumont continued in Float.)
Edited by Moth, Jun 15 2011, 05:38 AM.
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