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Nowhere to Go
Topic Started: Nov 16 2013, 02:43 PM (900 Views)
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(Veronica McDonald continued from Memory)

While she had the concrete plan of 'play the game in self defense' Veronica's plan for moving around the island was almost nonexistent. She wanted a place to herself, and everywhere she looked there were people. Her classmates (or what was left of them) were swarming the island, hiding and crouching in every nook and cranny they could find. Sometimes they rotated to another nook, but otherwise it's the same.

She wandered the island for some time. Sometimes she sprinted and pretended that she was at track, momentarily forgetting that she was on an island to kill or be killed by her classmates. But that realization would come crashing back to her, and she'd stop. This repeated for quite some time, maybe for a few hours, until she came upon her own little nook to crouch in.

Her first thought when she got there was 'Airport?' and 'Planes? Could we get out?'. It was soon followed by 'No, of course not.' and 'Shut up, Veronica, you're talking to yourself.' The small airstrip was flanked by several buildings she assumed were hangars and terminals. It didn't sound like anyone was there, so Veronica entered the nearest building.

This turned out to be a terminal, or at least what was left. shards of glass littered the ground, and there was an upturned bench here and there. On the upside, there wasn't anyone here, so that immediately made up for the previous cons. All the cons, actually.

Veronica turned over a bench and plopped down, bag at her side and tire iron in hand. She had it positioned so that she was in the shadows of the terminal, the bench pushed up against the sides.

She assigned herself as impromptu guard.
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Now you may be wondering, who was wearing the bolo tie? Me or the shark? Answer: YES!
[ *  *  *  *  *  * ]
((Matthew Young continued from Don't Know How to have Fun))

Two days. Two full days he'd been wandering the island and seen hardly a soul, and Matthew's mind remained torn between despair and relief. He should be relieved, of course, for reasons that were quite obvious. His classmates had fallen to killing as he knew they would and hoped they wouldn't, and more and more were joining the fray. Nobody was incorruptible, not even himself if he ventured there with his thoughts, and from the details of the daily rundown he could guess pretty solidly that premeditation was no prerequisite. Surprise or shock or dislike or even catching sight of someone seemed to be valid reasons, and there wasn't any reason they wouldn't be. He was safer, then, to walk alone and huddle in his little shelters and wait for the all-too-probably rescue. Death was not a certainty, after all, if history were to repeat itself. He need only stay safe, dodge the players and ride out the storm and his odds just might be even. To seek out anyone would be madness.

There was a longing, though, to hear another human voice. There were so many things he'd wanted to do or say and then the boy at the beach had slipped away and he'd kept them all to himself. There was no life worth living, really, without someone there to live it with. And if the majority had refrained from taking their own lives, they must have been intending to savor them. There could be moments of friendship, of song and laughter and even daring contentment or satisfaction. Nobody was really ready to die, and nobody deserved to go alone. Like as not, or honestly more, he was wandering through his final earthly home, all the trails and fields and glass-strewn carpets of it. More than anything, he didn't want to die alone, and to avoid contact would be folly.

And so he thought and so he strolled while the sun slanted over decade-old detritus at his feet. His bag tapped softly against his back as it swung from his shoulder. He stopped and he looked but not very hard, and it seemed to him he was still alone. He stood and faced the sunlight and sighed and closed his eyes.
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NO. THERE IS NO MORE TIME, EVEN FOR CAKE. FOR YOU, THE CAKE IS OVER. YOU HAVE REACHED THE END OF CAKE.

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It took a while before she spotted someone.

It wasn't a kid she recognized on sight, but a few seconds of combing her brain for clues eventually gathered that this kid's name was Matthew. He looked like he could hold his own in a fight, but Veronica might overpower him. Maybe. She wasn't interested in provoking a fight.

The kid walked around for a few minutes before standing in the center and looking around. Luckily, Veronica was in the darkness, so she was well concealed. Either that or Matt had really bad eyesight. Either way, she wasn't caught in his (poor) searching and was now looking upon a defenseless kid, standing with his eyes closed in direct sunlight.

Veronica observed him and began the ever-important battle in her head over what she should do with him. The more rational side insisted on waiting for him to leave, while the more irrational and paranoid side begged for a clobbering. Of him, of course. Veronica pushed them both down to the deep bowels of her mind while coming up with a plan: wait it out. If this kid tries to settle in, drive him out. With force. Non-lethal force. This was Veronica's little hidey-hole, and she didn't want any visitors and/or roommates.

She waited, sitting in the darkness, for the kid to leave. If he took too long, maybe she could mess with him. Make a few ghost sounds and throw things. Yeah, she'd do that. Maybe later.
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Now you may be wondering, who was wearing the bolo tie? Me or the shark? Answer: YES!
[ *  *  *  *  *  * ]
A minute or ten or twenty passed, and he had no proper gauge of which. All he knew was that no friend or foe came into evidence. Yet again, conflict and comfort failed to materialize. The sun and the silence as his only companions, he looked around himself one last time; a broken chair here, a shattered window there, and not a soul among them.

He pressed on through the ruined halls.

((Matthew Young continued elsewhere))
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NO. THERE IS NO MORE TIME, EVEN FOR CAKE. FOR YOU, THE CAKE IS OVER. YOU HAVE REACHED THE END OF CAKE.

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Soon enough, Matthew left. Veronica waited for a few minutes to make sure that he was gone before sighing in relief and sinking down into the bench. She was finally alone, after he had left. It felt nice to have a little niche to hide in. She wouldn't call it a home, per say, but it was good enough. Veronica could spend the night here, if she wanted to, and maybe she would. For now, it was a niche. Not a proper home.

She took out a pack of crackers and began to munch on them. God she was starving. Soon enough the saltiness got to her and she took a swig from the water bottle she quickly pulled out. It certainly wasn't a meal, but it was enough food to keep her energized.

So she sat, sitting in the shadows, watching the afternoon light dance across the floor. Sitting along with nothing to do makes a girl think, and Veronica's mind drifted into the worried thoughts of food and survival, friends and foes, murder and living, escape or compliance. Soon enough she had unnerved herself with her worries, and came to a thought.

Sitting here alone makes me worry. I don't wanna think of that. When I'm out and about, I think of the now and not the future.

Now under this revelation, Veronica sighed and scooped up everything into her bag. As much as she wanted a nook to hide in, it wasn't good on her sanity. Sanity is one of the few things you'll need to protect on this damned island at all costs, and she wasn't going to give it up at the drop of the hat. She gripped her tire iron and trudged into the wilderness. Into the open water.

((Veronica McDonald continued in Up to Eleven))
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((Rutherford "R.J" Roger Jr.: B032 -V5- Continued From Prying Your Head Off a Swivel))

R.J. didn't know where he, or anything else, was. But that was okay. He felt better. He was still a bit sweaty, so he hadn't put his jacket or shirt back on yet, but otherwise fine. He skulked through a field of broken glass, where they sliced away little bits of blood on his shoes.

He had now found himself sitting by an upturned bench, how he didn't know. He had gotten lost in his thoughts again, unaware as he drifted off into his mind, asking what to do with himself. Got back a blank test.

He slouched till he was on his back and staring at the sunlight. Everything was so hot. At least his ears felt better. That, or all the other parts of his were distracting him from his ears. Maybe the kick-in-the-knee trick actually worked.

"...I can figure that out later..."

God, the sun, even when clouded like this, was too bright. So he turned from it, now staring into the darkness, which always brought good things to him lately. He wrapped his right pinky around his hair, now having since gotten curlier and lighter after it's initial dousing of water, contemplating where to drift onto next. Hopefully into a location with people who hated him, or were about to.

That'd be nice.
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((Madeline Wilcox continued from Nemesis...))

Madeline was in a fog.

She had wandered for several hours since killing Nina. She tried to keep her emotions under control since then, and while she had done somewhat well during the initial shock, while she was wandering it had finally really hit her. She had ended another human being's life, and there was no way around it. No taking it back. While she did it in self defense, that didn't excuse it. She had been sobbing on and off as she walked through the woodlands, trying to come up with other solutions, ways that she could have avoided killing Nina. Ways that she could take it back.

But there was no taking it back. Nina was dead, and her blood was figuratively on Maddie's hands. It also didn't help that Nina's blood, the evidence of her crimes, was also literally on her jacket, which she hadn't bothered taking off since the incident.

Maybe it was a way of punishing herself. A way to signal to others that she was a murderer and needed to be avoided.

She stopped and looked around, trying to get a bearing of her surroundings. She was near an airstrip of some kind. This was probably a place as good as any to settle down for a while, try to recollect her thoughts, get over the fact that she was a murderer.

She walked inside the terminal building of the airstrip, looking around. Broken glass and overturned benches were scattered all over the place. It was quiet, almost too quiet, but she had learned to expect quietness. The island was a big place. It was hard to find other people unless you went looking. Then she saw a person, small, unimposing, sitting next to an upturned bench. She froze. Should she approach? Despite the person's small frame they could still be dangerous.

Maybe she wanted them to be dangerous. She spoke.

"Um... hello?"
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It wasn't 100% an um-hi, but it still made him jolt. He grabbed a piece of broken glass next to him, it's sharpness apparent through his itchy hand bandages, no thinking involved.

People must be desperate for comrades on this island. Why else would someone try to talk to the kid with bandages all over his chest and hands? He turned his head towards the speaker. A girl. With blood all over her. At least he found out the answer to the question.

He stood up weakly, using the bench as support, visibly shaking and physically strained. Damn, how much had he been walking and running? His legs were sore.

Maybe she was looking for someone to not attack her, evident that she was still talking to people. That in his mind, he felt she should have realized that wearing a bloody jacket wasn't the best of way of making friends. It would make sense if she was trying to make people scared, not a bad idea at all, R.J. thought. But when trying to make chit-chat, it didn't have a lot of grounds to it.

But he also knew being alone sucked. And that people don't always make the smartest decisions.

"That's...um...a lot of blood..."

His grip on the shard of glass loosened.
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Maddie took a step back as she turned to see the face of Rutherford Roger. It was an oddity that she knew his name and recognized him at all, especially considering the fact that she and RJ are both shy and had never talked, but she did recognize him, and she was put off by his appearance. He had bandages covering most of his chest and his hands, something that was never a good sign. He stood up, having visible trouble doing so. He spoke. She nodded. It was a lot of blood.

She asked herself subconsciously why she was trying to befriend anyone. The answer was that she found the prospect of being alone to be too disheartening to bear. The life of a complete loner just wasn't for her, and it could end up getting her killed just the same as running into a murderer such as herself. From the looks of it, RJ might have even killed someone himself. Thus he was probably less likely to abandon her when he found out she killed someone. Looking at his bandages, it seems like he did a rather rushed job of putting them on. Perhaps she could convince him to be her companion by helping him with his injuries.

She observed that he held a piece of glass in his hand, presumably readied in case she did anything. Perhaps, even if he didn't want to be her companion, that he would at least not stab her. "You don't look too good yourself." She said. "Perhaps I could help you? I'm not really qualified but I know plenty about basic first aid."
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He focused. His hearing was getting a bit better, or at least it felt like it. The words were coming in a bit less static-like now. Honesty. That was nice. And asking to help? That was just...actually not good. Not good at all. For one thing, any companion(s) he would gather after what he had done would most certainly get something bad happen to them, guilty by association and all that.

Still, one must take advantage of the graces given to them. He wondered if this was a sign of a beginning opportunist.

"Oh, um, thank you. I don't know a whole lot about medicine, so...yeah."

Maybe the girl with a bloody jacket wasn't so bad. Blood didn't mean a whole lot anymore, not here on this place. She looked rather eager to talk to somebody, so maybe this wasn't such a bad thing, using her as some kind of nurse-scarecrow combo.

"Yes it is."

R.J. sat down on the floor, stretching out his legs and clearing any close by glass shards, not wanting to get snagged by one of them as he laid his back all the way down.

"You can, um, do what you need to do."
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((Minor GM'ing approved))

Maddie was glad that her diplomatic efforts worked. But, now she had to actually help treat the injuries that RJ had sustained. She looked him over as he relaxed. She carefully looked over his injuries, starting with his chest wounds. "Erm, is it alright if I remove your bandages? I need to be able to see your wounds in order to help." RJ nodded. "Okay... so..." She began removing his bandages, doing so with the utmost care that she could muster. After she got the bandages all removed, she took in all of his chest injuries. There are around ten lacerations, varying minutely in length and width, with some seemingly being quite deep. Many of the wounds had started to scab and a few show infection. She winced at the sight.

"Alright... to begin, I think I should treat some of your wounds for infection. Since the infection has already started in a few of your cuts, there's not much I can do about those. That's up to your immune system. But... I think I can at least keep more damage from being done." She went over and got out her first aid kit. Certainly she could spare a few supplies.

She grabbed the alcohol pads from the kit and approached RJ's wounds tentatively. "Okay, so, this might sting a little." She gently rubbed the pads over the more shallow wounds, and went around, but not over, the deeper ones. "I can't really get the deeper lacerations because that would hurt way too badly and probably be harmful." She got out a roll of bandages and some medical tape. Okay, now, I am going to wrap these around your torso sorta tightly, I hope you don't mind." She began wrapping RJ's torso slowly, pressing down on the end that she started with until she managed to cover all of his wounds; then she got a bit of tape off the roll and taped the bandages on tight. "Alright that should be tight enough." She put her medical supplies away.

"Normally you don't want to completely starve cuts of being in the open air, but some of yours are rather deep so the less germs they are exposed to the better." She remembered RJ's having visible trouble standing a moment ago. "I saw that you had trouble standing just a moment ago, and that's probably because you are fatigued. You just need some food and water and you should be alright." She pulled out one of the tins of crackers she looted from Nina's bag. She hesitated for a moment, before keeping her head down as she put the crackers next to RJ. "And... um..." She pulled out one of the multiple water bottles she had, half of them from Nina.

"Here's some water." She placed the bottle next to RJ. "The water may have a few stray dust particles in it, but that's because I refilled it from a stream and purified it using some of the iodine in our first-aid kits." She put the rest of her things away and zipped up her bag. "Anyway, eat those and drink that and you should be fine after a bit of rest." She turned to look at RJ. "I hope I was of some help." She couldn't shake the fact that she was a bit worried that RJ might try to kill her after he got his strength back, but she tried keeping it in the back of her mind as she sat near RJ.

After all, maybe that's what she wanted.
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R.J. lied on his back once she began talking again, stared at the ceiling for a bit. After her removal of the of the bandages, R.J. lifted his neck slightly to see how the bad the wounds were. They were pretty bad. He looked back at her once she began to talk again, nodding along and doing whatever she wanted him to, letting her get to work.

Once she was all done with, R.J. put his hands on his chest, breathing in and out deeply, testing her handiwork at the new bandages she put on. Much better then his hasty wrappings, a lot more tight. He sat up slightly, taking a sip of the water bottle given to him. He should be more thankful, he thought, especially after he had wasted so much water after his little self-indulgent acts in the hospital. His head started hurting.

He searched through his bag, getting out his jacket and putting it on. Having his chest out in the open was not the brightest move, he realized. R.J also put on his Aurora baseball cap, having forgotten he had brought it along with on the trip. It would at least stop the light getting into his eyes and straining them. R.J. guessed that he and the girl were gonna be traveling together now, no confirmation made. It was rude to assume such things, but it was a little bit too obvious to think she didn't want anything. She hadn't hurt him at all either, the blood simply just being a cover for something else that didn't concern him.

With creaky knees, R.J. stood over his possible companion and stared to the outside. He wondered how long this girl would be willing to carry him around, if she decided to. He had avoided Matthew and Emily in worry that he would slow them down, wouldn't he just be doing that now? After all, she had already helped R.J. in their minimal time together, he wasn't so sure in himself to be able to give back any of it. But he could try, if that was the case.

"We should get out of here...gonna get dark soon."

With that, R.J. set out, lowering the baseball cap as he stepped outside, assuming that the girl was right behind him. If she wasn't, that would be okay too, maybe even better that way, and he had already said his thanks beforehand. But if she was, then...

...

He'd try to come up with something.

((Rutherford "R.J." Roger Jr: B032 -V5- Continued In Every Success Involves Insanity))
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Madeline smiled as RJ stood and said that they should get out of here. She silently agreed that it probably was for the best to sleep somewhere else; the large, messy terminal wasn't exactly very hospitable. She was happy. For the first time on this island she felt genuine happiness. She had helped someone, and potentially made a friend. Did that make up for killing Nina? No, she was far from redeemed for killing her. As she thought about it, she concluded that there really was no redemption for her. What could she really do to make up for killing another person?

She followed RJ out of the terminal doors. They needed to find a safe place to rest that wasn't a terminal filled with broken glass. As she walked beside him, she felt a nagging sensation in the back of her head. She thought of her first rule.

Rule One: Don't trust anyone.

Could she really trust him? She didn't know.

Rule One: Don't trust anyone.

She didn't care.

Rule One: Trust this one.

She had someone to be with. Even if RJ betrayed her later, it wasn't like she really deserved to live anymore than anyone else anyway. For the time being she finally felt at ease.

And that was all that mattered.

((Madeline Wilcox continued in Every Success Involves Insanity))
Edited by VoltTurtle, Dec 12 2013, 11:21 PM.
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