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Everyday is like Sunday
Topic Started: Apr 19 2011, 01:15 PM (5,446 Views)
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Oh my god you guys The Riz killed Cara what do!?
[ *  *  * ]
[The Youngest Was The Most Loved --> Ema Ryan and Hayley Kelly]

Having been a danger zone for all of Day 7, the Southern Cliffs weren't the greatest choice of destination for the dynamic duo, following the events on the beach just north of them. In retrospect, it would practically be an insult to Ema's first victim to go get herself killed stupidly, completely wasting her life by negating any chance at it being a step towards Ema - or at least Hayley - making it to the end. And yet, after interminable hours meandering around the south-east corner of the island, suicide almost seemed like a step upwards. With the Mansion set as a danger zone, though, heading past it felt a little too dangerous, so wandering around the woods and the plains to the east of the Greens was all they could do.

In the end, the two camped out (read, slept on towels under a blanket, as usual) in a small copse just shy of the danger zone boundary. Tired and still feeling the unusual psychological effects of committing a murder in cold blood, Ema was content to curl up and fall asleep rather quickly, hoping the dreams she'd had a few days prior were still a one-off.



In spite of her better judgement, when Ema awoke before the announcements once again, she decided to get up and go for a walk again. This time, she was sure, nobody would be in the immediate vicinity, and if they were, she wouldn't flip her shit and open fire again. She made sure not to stray too far south until Danya revealed whether or not the cliffs were still a danger zone, instead enjoying the coastal air from a distance, relishing the dim early dawn sunlight. With the scant cloud cover and the sun low on the horizon in the east, it managed to be pleasant for once, and Ema even left her hood down.

Eventually, though, the inevitable sound of a smug man through unseen speakers made itself audible. Ema dreaded the next inevitability, her name starring in the announcements for the first time. And whilst it was better to be noted as a killer than dead, it was better still to just stay completely incognito.

"Good morning, kiddies,"

Good morning, Captain Smarmy.

"My, my, if we don't have a new record. That's right, twenty-nine of you perished in the past twenty-four hours. I'd crunch the rate, but, well, that's what the statisticians online are for."

Again? At least I'm not alone, I guess.

The announcement played out as usual, but this time, it wasn't her own name that gave Ema an unwelcome surprise, not first, at least. No, whilst she'd put an end to Sapphire fairly early in the morning, she'd been demoted to a footnote behind some of the more interesting, less bland deaths of the previous day. Namely, Madelyn Prowers' suicide, that one was troubling. As far as she remembered, Maddy was Catholic, and killing oneself wasn't something they did lightly. Something really, really bad must have happened. Ema wasn't sure if Hayley was still asleep as she'd left her, but sharing that news wouldn't be pleasant, if it needed doing. In spite of herself, she stole a glance back towards where they'd camped for the night, nobody awake in sight just yet.

"It seems Ema Ryan has picked up the arbitrary point-and-shoot tendencies of her girlfriend, as she gunned down Sapphire MacLeod."

And there I am. Hm, girlfriend though? I guess it is official, then.

Ema almost slapped herself there, disappointed that her opinion could again be so easily swayed by mention of Hayley. There were more important things to be thinking about than lust, or love, or whatever it was between the two of them. It wasn't worth dwelling on, better to just let it play out as it will, and focus on staying alive, which she'd been doing a fairly decent job of so far.

"Oh, and stay out of The Mansion, The Mine, The Parish, and The Greens. Also, you can mark The Tunnels off your list for the rest of the game."

Mansion still off limits, with the Greens added as well. In hindsight, then, it would've been safe to go west through them last night after all. But hindsight's 20-20, so for another day, heading west or northwest was off limits. Presumably going around the Groundskeeper's Hut would be okay, though.

For the time being, however, Ema was happy to be able to head south to the edge of the cliff. To enjoy the wide open ground, devoid of human intrusion for the past 24 hours, perfectly safe for the next few, provided she didn't stray too close to the poorly fenced-off drop. A great empty plain to spend her morning on, and try not to think about what the rest of Day Eight might entail.

What a way to spend a Sunday morning... no wait, that was supposed to be yesterday. I suppose every day can be Sunday here. No school to worry about, but always that underlying dread of what's coming tomorrow... except it's potentially dying tomorrow, instead of having to go back to school.

Again, she tried not to focus on how very wrong it was for her to be trivialising things so easily, and instead on how doing so made it easier to face the future.

Nope, don't dwell on the wrong, cross bridges like that when you come to them. Just... trudging slowly over wet sand, back to the bench where your clothes were stolen...

In no time, Ema found herself humming along to yet another Morrissey song that had wormed its way into her brain, reciting the lyrics as best she could remember within her head. She didn't even notice when it started coming out of her mouth too, a low mutter at first, getting a little louder with each line.

"Hide on the promenade, etch a postcard; how I dearly wish I was not here..."
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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Oh my god you guys The Riz killed Cara what do!?
[ *  *  * ]
[Would wait, but it's been 14 days, so...]

"In the seaside town, that they forgot to bomb..."

Ema continued to walk forwards, finally finding herself at the low chain fence, a rather shoddy means of preventing people from falling. Salt on the air and years of neglect had left the barrier in a sorry state, sagging limply in the middle and making an unpleasant grating sound whenever the wind took it particularly strongly. Not far along it, no more than a few hundred meters at most, lay a large boy in an even sorrier state. Further along, more inland, was yet another, his neck gruesomely blown apart, barely still anchoring his lifeless head. The reminder of mortality wasn't pleasant, but it was, in a way, rather a welcome one. It woke Ema up, made her pat down her pockets to ensure she was still armed, got her properly alert again. So she thought.

"...come, come, come, nuclear bomb. Everyday is li--"

"Heh...girly, keep singing like that and the kids back home are going to think you're some little emo kid. And then I can't talk to you. Ruin my rep, you know?"

Ema whirled around, grabbing frantically for the handgun in her inside pocket, only to release the air she'd rapidly taken in in a short sigh of relief. Just Hayley. More awake than she'd thought. Less alert than she'd thought herself to be. Even less so when she couldn't do a thing to react to arms wrapping themselves around her, though soon enough, she didn't want to. She was embraced, and embraced Hayley back. Their lips met. And she felt good again, the feeling she'd come to live for, only a few months ago, and good God was it nice to have back again. To have her Hayley back.

Hers. All hers.
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

The Past
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Oh my god you guys The Riz killed Cara what do!?
[ *  *  * ]
The embrace lasted no more than a minute, and yet it seemed to drag on into eternity, seconds lost their meaning and seemed to blend into hours. Maybe that was wishful thinking, Ema certainly wanted it to be so. If it never ended, if time around them continued to seem to pass by at a crawl, if nothing else in the world ever mattered, then she wouldn't have to be afraid any more. No running back and forth, evading their potential killers and becoming killers themselves. No more rationing their food and wondering if it's worth keeping watch at night. Just Hayley and her on the lip of that cliff, in each other's arms, happy. Thinking about it that way, from a third person perspective, it must look awfully picturesque.

Of course, that was more than wishful thinking, that was outright delusional. But delusion was really all Ema had left to cling to, with only one source of happiness still remaining in the real world. Reality was fucked up and terrifying. She didn't want to be in reality.

Reality didn't give her a choice.

Hayley pulled away. Her arms stayed fairly close around Ema's midriff, but it wasn't close enough. She looked... conflicted. Trying to say something, but not sure how, or perhaps even what. Trying to hold something back, too. Sadness? Anger? Tears? Could be anything, just about anything from the spectrum of human emotion could be justified by now, they'd probably seen enough to evoke about every response possible.

"Maddy..."

Tears, then. It still hadn't quite hit Ema herself, but she understood well enough that it must've hit Hayley like a freight train. Something to look forward to when I'm feeling less disconnected... Hayley closed her eyes. This couldn't have been easy. Ema thanked whatever providence there was that she still couldn't really comprehend much that had happened. People had died, she'd contributed one such death, and it meant something to her, certainly meant something... she just had no idea what.

"She...she'd be glad we're alive, yeah? Alive and...together."

It made sense. Ema nodded. Wondered at the tone, as to why it seemed so impersonal, when Maddy's name had been spoken as if on the verge of tears. But feeling - in her own words - disconnected as she was, she couldn't call attention to it in good faith.

"So, er...any destination in mind? I feel like we've spent the last week on one half of the island, there's all this...this stuff we haven't seen yet-"

Still empty, but now with that telltale sign of distress, speaking far too quickly, stumbling over words, rushing to say what she wanted to say. Trying to articulate after waking up to be told one of your closest friends has killed herself, after all, must not be the easiest thing in the world. Too busy was Ema with trying to figure out what Hayley was feeling, her prior desire to return to the pier she'd woken up on a week ago was entirely forgotten.

"I mean, er, anywhere you want to go? Anyone you want to...to..."

The sentence trailed off into awkward nothingness. Ema didn't have the heart to answer, only to stand there, looking awkwardly back into Hayley's eyes. Where was there to go that was of any real significance? Who was there to seek out, now that just about everyone Ema had been fond of in Minnesota had already died? Alex, perhaps? Ema hadn't known him terribly well, but it wouldn't be a stretch to call him a friend... but they hadn't the faintest idea where he was. So there was nothing. Just travelling where whim takes them, trying not to die, trying to rationalise killing anyone they saw and thought they could get away with killing. Some life...

"I-I...she..."

Back to the subject of Madelyn, then. Not easy to talk about, like before, bu-- oh. Hayley was kissing her again. Ema didn't protest. It was nice, the last escape that was really left to them. Something innocent, human, enjoyable. Something that wasn't Survival of the Fittest. Ema tightened her arms' grip around the troubled girl, and kissed her back.
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

The Past
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Oh my god you guys The Riz killed Cara what do!?
[ *  *  * ]
Singing? Heh, that was funny, the only person odd enough to be singing in a situation like this had to be Ema herself. So why would she be hearing it? Because she was coo-coo pants, obviously. Nobody could actually be singing, because she wasn't, and there wasn't anyone else around, and if they were, jeez, how crazy were they? Besides, she couldn't be, her mouth was busy. It must just be in her head, so, jeez, how crazy did that make her? Well, another thing for the list of things for Ema Ryan not to dwell on. Stop thinking. Keep calm and kiss the girl. Deal with encroaching SAN loss later.

...

No, that singing was definitely audible. It was getting closer, too. Music in Ema's own head never changed distance, it was always just... in there, so to speak. Directly within her brain, with one volume and no concept of displacement. The volume was variable, but never for the same piece of music, that would be weird. As if the rest of it wasn't. So it was real, and someone really was singing. It was confirmed by the sounds of movement, the rustling and the twig-snapping, just about audible under the volume of the boy's take on... God, was that... some kind of hair metal? Ema could no longer pretend to ignore it, she opened her eyes, not long before Hayley too reacted physically. Which is to say, whirled around and pulled a gun out.

Ema would've gone for her own, but it didn't take long to realise the newcomers were no threat.

No wait. Ema corrected herself.

No immediate threat. Might be armed and hostile later on, but for now, not a threat.

Paranoia everywhere in this bitch.

But back to the second dynamic duo in question, and how Ema actually knew they weren't dangerous. Because Hayley instantly lowered her gun and gave them (well, one of them) a greeting about as warm as she'd received a week prior. Turns out his name was Jay motherfucking Holland, and Hayley was happy to see him. The girl's identity remained a mystery.

"Want a smoke?"

Ema's palm made its way swiftly to her forehead. Of course. Jay was one of Hayley's non-herself friends. The kinds that do the sex and drugs and rock and roll thing. The whole drinking and smoking deal. Well, she wasn't about to deny them a self-destructive reunion, so Ema just gave a sort of impassive wave to the as-yet unidentified Janet, holding out hope that she wouldn't be joining them, leaving Ema to stand upwind by herself.

On the bright side, new friends. That's gotta be worth something.
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

The Past
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Oh my god you guys The Riz killed Cara what do!?
[ *  *  * ]
Enthusiasm explosion. The whole not having the first idea who Jay or Janet were, besides Jay's name, kind of put a damper on it for Ema. As did the whole disconnection thing, to be painfully honest. Human contact wasn't really at the top of Ema's agenda; given the choice, she would've gone to her room, lay down, maybe put some music, maybe try to make a dent in that pile of unread books, maybe just try to shut the world out for a while. Ease herself back into the whole "humans are social creatures" thing.

Yeah, that'd be nice...

But access to her room was kind of limited by miles of ocean, and a collar that'd explode if she tried to cross it. Because Ema was still on an unidentified island, she still had a gun in her inside pocket, she still needed to outlast about 100 more people to be allowed to go home. And rather cyclically, that was why she felt so numb, so distanced from what had happened, from what was still happening. A self-perpetuating cycle. Being surrounded by death and madness drove her to feel almost nothing, and feeling almost nothing allowed her to kill, allowed her sanity to slip slowly away.

What I wouldn't give for a soft bed and a good book right about now...

At least the introversion Ema would've sought out was still available. Just set off on a trail of thought and get lost on enough tangents, and there it is. Any semblance of focus on the situation at hand was lost - Hayley was there and they were friendly, it's fine - and instead, Ema lamented how long it had been since she obliged her - admittedly few - hobbies. How she'd never get a chance to improve her poor K:D ratio or beat Mile High Club on Veteran, how she'd never manage to finish Through the Fire and Flames, how her dreams of flying would remain dreams, how she'd never make it as far as College.

As her thoughts took more and more turns for the dejected, it showed quite clearly, physically. She slumped visibly, eventually electing to sit down and rest her head in her palms. In all the rush and adrenaline of the prior days, Ema hadn't had the chance to think about anything but the present, and finally looking to the future that was bleak in all reasonable probability, it hit her more than a little bit hard. And yet still, she couldn't muster emotion to feel anything for Madelyn, or the girl she'd killed, or those Hayley had gunned down before her eyes, or the other two hundred odd students she knew to be dead by now. Maybe it was subconsciously enforced pragmatism, or maybe there was something deeply wrong with Ema, but thinking about how she would never speak to Maddy again, play with her, hear her laugh, see her smile... it didn't mean anything. It all came across as matter-of-fact, not something to concern herself with beyond the truth of it. The same went for the consequences that came with having killed a person in cold blood. Ema recognised that they existed, but the anguish, the regret, the remorse, they were all frighteningly absent.

It hit her then, that evidently all she cared about presently was herself. The realisation, the self-accusation, it stung. She wanted to deny it. But she couldn't, not in good faith, nor in honesty. There'd be time enough to care about other people when she was back in Minnesota, or better yet, back in Ireland. If surviving to do that meant not giving a damn what happened to anyone else on the island... Ema wasn't truly okay with it, but it was a good enough excuse to stem the guilt, to help her believe she was only a selfish coward thanks to the circumstances, not by nature. Because believing in lies was important.

"Ema, darling,"

What? Oh. Right. Other people still existed. The world did not revolve around Ema or her personal drama. She needed to remember that.

"do you mind exceptionally if Jay and I go forth and conversate and give ourselves lots and lots of lung cancer? Like...er, you and Janet. Make besties and such. Yeah?"

Oh, so the girl's called Janet.


Ema rose to her feet, shakily, but not noticeably so. She approached the others, shaking her head slowly, impassively. She didn't mind, but neither did she currently trust her voice to say so with. She pushed the untidy mass of ginger aside from her face, and tried to muster some words, something to say to Janet, to "make besties". How can she keep acting so chirpy? But there was nothing, nothing that wasn't awful, at least. So she settled for something simple. "Uh, hey."

And even that came out awful. Not in her old slightly-choked throat-clear-causing style, worse, in a new kind-of-flat-and-emotionless idiom, trading out cute-in-a-piteous-way for creepy-in-a-creepy-way.

At least I'm not shooting her, that's something.
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

The Past
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Oh my god you guys The Riz killed Cara what do!?
[ *  *  * ]
"Uh, hey, indeed."

The conversation only managed to deteriorate from that fantastic start. With "So, do you like hobbies" automatically off the table due to being a joke ice-breaker, Ema really had nothing to say to Janet. What does one say? "Oh hey, how's the murdering going? I'm a little behind quota, only managed one so far. But I'm trying my best, you know?" Not likely. So in the end, with the pretence of trying to chat idly straight out the window, Ema and Janet failed to "make besties". Ema drifted off back towards the cliff's edge, ended up humming along to a tune she couldn't quite identify by name, and lost track of time. Every so often she'd glance back over to make sure Janet was still there, and that they still didn't know what to talk about, shrug, and go back to doing nothing.

As such, Ema didn't really know how much time had passed between the riveting conversation's start and the return of Hayley and Jay. The name of the song she'd been humming for the last few however-long-it-was was right on the tip of her tongue when Hayley showed up and kissed her. Oh well, that was nicer than knowing what it was anyway... ironically enough, she was pretty sure it wasn't The Smiths or Morrissey, though.

As for the rest of the day, eventful wasn't an applicable adjective. Ema sat around lamenting the absence of her iPod, finally finished American Gods, contributed to idle conversation every few minutes. Nothing interesting. But by comparison to "interesting" days, that was a lot more palatable - not seeing human blood and grey matter on the sand was, after all, one of Ema's favourite parts of the day, up there with not being shot and not being on fire. The evening and night, however, were considerably more enjoyable. Things she'd never done before, things she'd only done once before, mainly the former, all of them things she'd dreamt of doing for years prior. At first she tried in earnest to stay quiet, and to convince Hayley to do likewise, but as time wore on, the amount she cared slowly dwindled, and likewise the protests soon ceased. If the other two didn't like it? Well, they could deal. Opportunities to enjoy oneself were fast running out, Ema wasn't about to give up one of the more prominent ones.

---

The next thing she knew, it was morning. Ema didn't recall falling asleep, but then, when did anyone remember the moment they dropped off? Still, she didn't even remember her head hitting the proverbial pillow. She had one leg vaguely entangled in one of Hayley's, and what appeared to be breasts pressed against her face. It was nice, an eminently enjoyable way to wake up of a morning. She could feel Hayley's chest rise and fall through her own cheek, and each breath in and out alongside it against the top of her head. But there was something niggling at her, something desperate to ruin the lovely moment. Oh right. That noise that had probably been what woke her up. Still on the bloody island. Morning announcements. Better pay attention, just in case. Ema didn't really want to, though, she was tired, she wanted to go back to sleep. The words washed over her quite ineffectually, until something - rather, someone - stood out.

"Alexander Campbell died of I-thought-it'd-be-fine-to-field-amputate-my-arm. This is a lesson: practice first aid before your wound starts growing green fuzz."

"Alexander Campbell died."


Wait. What? Alexander Campbell? The Alex she and Hayley had been trying to regroup with for the last almost-week? Alongside Maddy, he was also the Alex that had been part of the ever-dwindling group of people Ema actually knew, and could call her friends. And he'd died, not from losing an arm, but from it getting infected? In spite of herself, Ema was almost impressed. Surviving with one missing arm must have been no easy task. Cutting it off, too, that was probably hellishly difficult. And now the guy capable of that was dead. No longer someone to look out for, no longer a potential, presumably hyper-competent ally. And there it was, back to thinking about herself. Alex was one more person that might've been inclined to help her that was now dead. Ema's estimation of her odds of survival plummeted.

At some point during that mental tract, Hayley had shot bolt upright, rolling Ema over onto her side in the process. She became aware of how little (read; nothing) she was wearing, and hastened to dress herself. She'd barely managed to get a pair of panties on and one leg into a pair of jeans when the next bombshell dropped.

"Örn Ayers was shot by Liam Brooks, and bled to death."

Örn Ayers? Why did that name sound familiar? Somebody she knew better by a more pronounceable nickname?

"NO!"

Clearly someone Hayley had kn-- Dutchy. That sweet Scandinavian guy she'd spoken to once or twice, known him via Hayley, not unlike most of her Bayview acquaintances. She didn't know how to feel about that news. First Maddy, now Alex and Dutchy, just about everyone she and Hayley had been meaning to find was dead. But for the three people around her, Ema was alone on the island. It was a frightening thought, but again, somehow she couldn't find it saddening. She was aware that it ought to be, that something about her was terribly broken for it not to be, but all the same, Ema didn't find sorrow in any of it. Only fear. Fear of pain, fear of death. All fear for herself. "God I'm a heartless bi--"

At that point, Ema noticed how much worse Hayley was taking it than herself. Curled up on the floor crying like an infant. They must have been closer than she'd realised. She wrestled her other leg into the jeans, and made her way over, entirely at a loss for how to proceed. What do you do in this kind of situation? "Oh yeah, everyone important to you is dead except for me." Jay's existence didn't seem to cross her mind. "So... chin up, soldier on?". Not the most tactful thing. Comforting people wasn't Ema's strong suit, and given that she was still trying to figure out why she herself wasn't in a similar state to Hayley, she was even less qualified than usual. "Because I'm a soulless monster, yeah."

So instead of trying to say anything comforting, she just knelt down beside her friend best friend girlfriend, and tried to work up the nerve to even ask if there was anything she could do to help. But of course, something had to get in the way. Or someone. In the distance, on that hill they'd passed a while beforehand on the way up from the beach. Ema couldn't make out who it was, with her eyes still bleary from morning light and lack of sleep, but she could tell it was human. Comforting Hayley could wait, making sure nobody was trying to kill either of them jumped up to top priority.

Completely disregarding the lack of clothing on her upper half, Ema scrambled for her discarded coat, fumbling around with the inside-pockets for her gun. Eventually she just pulled the damn thing on, and took the weapon out from the inside with greater ease. The adrenaline had kickstarted her system somewhat, and upon closer inspection, she did recognise that silhouette. Not by name, but by deeds. The girl that shot Kyle.

She shot Kyle. Assume she's hostile.

Ema raised the weapon, yelling (intentionally rather loud, in hopes of rousing the others) at Charlene to "Just... just back up... walk away, okay!?"

"Try to act reasonable. She's got a gun too."

It dawned on Ema just then that making herself the most obviously dangerous member of her group may not have been a good idea, as far as preserving her own life went. It showed on her face, and in her slightly shuddering hands. She was afraid.
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

The Past
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Oh my god you guys The Riz killed Cara what do!?
[ *  *  * ]
Everything seemed to be going so well. She, Janet and Jay were all well armed, they didn't need to worry about Hayley because girl-whose-name-she-didn't-know-but-recognised-as-being-the-one-that-shot-Kyle was going away. No big standoff, no large body-count, just nice friendly backing off. Later on they could ambush her or something and then their group wouldn't have to lose anyone. Outright firefights, Ema was quite convinced, were never a good idea.

And then something that was never a good idea happened.

Hayley got up, shoved Ema aside. She demanded Charlene come back. Then they started talking. And it wasn't a friendly conversation. It was anything but friendly; if anything, it seemed like Charlene was intentionally baiting Hayley, trying to rile her up and make her start shooting. What the actual fuck was she thinking? Did she have a death wish? "You killed five people for no reason." - assuming stuff and making accusations (close to the truth or otherwise), yup, she had a death wish.

And Hayley was, evidently, glad to oblige. A solitary gunshot. It hit. Charlene's response was close behind, it did not hit.

From there, everything should have been fine. The girl should have just gone down and died quietly, so Ema et al could just go on with their fucked up lives with no further distracting gunfire. It should've been fine, and probably would've. But it wasn't, because one of the soon-to-be-deceased's friends decided to show up too. Being alone was too much to ask for, clearly.

So a third bullet tore through the air. Ema had seen it coming from the moment the new girl reached for her gun. In the moments she had to react, she made up her mind and acted quickly. What would Price do?, thinking like him hadn't steered her wrong so far, might as well keep it up. According to Ema, he'd protect his comrades. So she did. She dived in Hayley's general direction, no time for finesse, shoving her to the ground. Of course, the bullet was going something close to the speed of sound, so if it took her about as long to think as it did Thea to pull the trigger, there wasn't much of a grace period for her and Hayley to be out of the line of fire. Hayley made it, being underneath Ema.

Ema did too. Just.

She dropped to the floor awkwardly, a mess of flailing limbs and howling vocal chords, and rolled off of Hayley. The wound, which she'd later find out was superficial, essentially a very shallow laceration, stung like a bitch and burned from the friction - bullets, not sharp like knives, just fast. That pain, along with being on the floor with hair in her eyes, was a large factor in what she did next. She opened fire, five rapid, panicked shots in the general direction of Thea, none of them remotely accurate, but probably close enough to make her rethink standing in the open. With that obligation taken care of, Ema let her right arm fall, whilst her left hand flew to the wound on her shoulder. She felt liquid, blood, but not much. She'd live.

It was about at that point that she noticed Hayley getting up, hurriedly dressing and making ready to take off in pursuit of... probably the other shooter. Groaning, Ema got to her feet as well, and in lieu of wasting time putting a shirt on underneath, just zipped her coat up. And it was at about that point that she realised Hayley's vision was focused not on where Thea had been, but on Jay, who seemed to be bolting beachward. Profanities were uttered, and Hayley ran after him.

Ema looked to Janet briefly, before grabbing her own stuff and following. What the big deal was about keeping Jay around was, Ema wasn't entirely certain, but losing sight of Hayley was most definitely not an option.

[Ema Ryan --> The Stoner Always Dies]
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

The Past
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