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I Say You Kill Your Heroes And Fly, Fly, Baby Don't Cry; no need to worry because everybody will die
Topic Started: Aug 13 2016, 04:34 PM (934 Views)
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The cracks had been made to the ice. The ringing faded. Jeremy could actually hear words now.

“Awesome,” was what he said as he pulled her up off the ground. Sorry BB, but apparently Irene was the true girl for Jeremy. He almost said that this was going to be the first and only time he ever held hands with a girl but then he remembered back to the dance in March when BB held his hand. It felt nice. Physically cold but mentally warm. He remembered at that point he got overtly worried about whether it was supposed to be romantic or not but then she convinced him to dance with her for a bit and he realised that hey, maybe he could just have a little fun and just not think; that was why they decided to go with each other in the first place. Then the walk home happened. Cold wind. Full moon. Park bench. Held hands. Maybe something more, it honestly felt like a blur. God, looking back on it, it was probably the best night of his life.

He was happy that BB was okay, at the very least. There was an email she sent him about how she was going on the other day. There was a sad face in his reply but now that he knew what was going to happen, maybe he would have rectified that into a happy one. She would survive. Maybe that wasn’t what mattered, but it was at worst still good.

Wait, probably not the right time to think this. He shook his head. Looked up. Where was everyone again?

Wait. Okay. Irene was still somehow in denial. Considering that she still thought that even after firing the gun he really should have known that he wouldn’t have been able to convince her. Moving on. She had asked the both of them to say things. Him smart. Danny cute. He would have switched both of those around and then give Danny the word that was the opposite but whatever, the princesses word was law. That was what she considered herself, right? Well he meant not actually what she considered herself but it was the title that made part of her persona. Like how he tended to have social adjectives and canines in his. A persona he had wanted to change for years because of the connotations, but that was something that he didn’t have to really worry about anymore.

Anyway, smart remark. Probably worked better for him than cute, but um…

“I mean, if this were 4kids,” he said, taking the gun out of his pocket. “We likely wouldn’t have guns.”

He held it up in front of his chest, hand on the hold but not on the trigger.

“I’d probably be holding something like that fist spring thing I saw once.”

Wait, was holding the gun up a bad idea?


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Cicada Days
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keep running yoshi
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Irene forgot to remember to forget. There was still a big chunky smooth metal thing right there on her neck, the whole time, as she spoke. She swore somehow that she could hear the rusty nail on chalkboard swivel of a camera in the distance. That definitely was not possible. Irene also forgot to forget to remember that fact.

Danny continued to look like a walking corpse. Like he was parchedly entertaining the idea that one of his famous ‘two-minute’ girlfriends would send a gun and bullets his way. Made sense. Any girl could have wandered the halls of Cochise with any old amount of bullets strung over their hip. They really had to get some gun control laws on the board in these parts. Stop idiots from putting hands on those rifled barrels. The free hand Irene hadn’t noticed was still on the gun relinquished it, so it rattled like a saber against her thigh. It was otherwise held in place, kinda stuck to her. The other hand seemed to keep it’s hold on the sensuous curve of the handle. Somehow it seemed familiar. That wasn’t quite right, but Irene accepted it for now. Hug the fake close and all.

Danny pulled out a CD player. Made sense. Danny said something. It sounded like it was being forced through the teeth. What the heck was a Four Kids, anyways? She swore she’d heard and misunderstood this joke before.

Jeremy pulled out a gun. Made not so much sense. But. Probably better a gun in his hands than some of the other kids in Cochise at the moment. Jeremy said something. More IV Kids and stuff. Man. Irene strained for a moment to see if she could make the reference make sense but it sorta just sluiced through the extra-big folds of her brain, all drippy and melty. Besides, how was a ‘fist spring thing’ smart? Accurate terminology, Jerebear! They hadn’t taken three something years of English for…



What was this, anyways? Irene looked up to the sky, away from the people she knew and into a sky she swore she knew as well. It wasn’t hot, dry enough. It was unfamiliar, an expanse of gray smoker’s puffs drifting into the horizon. Didn’t rain so often in Kingman. She looked back down. Scanned faces. Looked familiar. Skin and flesh and bone.

Suddenly Irene’s feet were taken away by fancy, sans the convenience of flight. She bounded in twos, skipping every other one. Her hair continued to flatly refuse to bounce as she surged on, charging the spot between the two boys where she’d left her bag with the random number stapled or taped or something onto it. For a moment she’d considered jumping over the bag but suddenly it seemed like a stubborn fixture to sit in her other hand that didn’t have a big gun to keep it company. Something to hold close as she dared.

“Think I gotta go now guys. You know, stuff. Cya!” Response was moot, she was already gone. Not quite a run, but the princess who liked to call herself Irene burned glass out of sand beneath her feet all the same, drifting away in an awkward-looking fashion as if it were any other day where she would do the exact same.

Move and move and move some more. All with that energy she was well known for.

((Irene Djezari continued in Until all our yesterdays are lighted fools...))
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Danny let out a weak laugh. “That would have been a better game. Just…” He lifted a hand and pointed like he was holding a gun. “Sproing.”

Irene moved suddenly, and Danny raised his CD player like it was a shield. But she bounded past him, running and yelling something about how she had to go.

“Huh? Hey, wait!” But she was already gone.

Danny looked at Jeremy. Then looked at the gun, which was now raised. Not pointed at him, but still raised. Could be so easily pointed at him. And apart from one class of sex jokes, Danny just didn't know Jeremy that well. Didn't know if this ridiculous calmness about the fact that they were all going to die was normal, or whether Jeremy had cracked.

Danny decided he didn't want to stick around to find out. And he'd always been great at outrunning his problems.

“I, uh… yeaaaaah,” Danny said slowly, before tucking the CD player underneath one arm and just bolting. Same direction Irene had, because… well, he knew and liked Irene a little more than Jremy. Maybe he could catch up, even if he wasn't sure if he wanted to.

He wasn't really sure what he wanted at all, except that he wanted to be safe. And what was the chance of that?

((Danny Brooks continued in Hideaway.))
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“Well bye then.”

Irene just left. For no reason, at that. Was it because he was talking about 4Kids? Was Irene such an anime purist that she just couldn’t handle the mere mention of 4Kids? So many questions. Part to do with some of the choices 4Kids made when dubbing One Piece but mostly to do with Irene’s sudden exit. Danny left, too. Jerk. The bye was to both of them, mostly to Irene though. Why did they just suddenly leave him? Did he smell or something? He checked his armpits. No, not too bad. The deodorant was starting to wear off on him but he couldn’t smell the sweat much. Since it didn’t seem to be his smell he wasn’t sure what it was, then. Maybe next time they met he’d ask why.

It just occurred to him that this could possibly be the last time he ever saw the either of them alive. The image of Irene prancing away into the distance and the image of Danny… just bolting could be the last image Jeremy had of them. It felt odd. In a way. He could deal with never being able to see Danny again but Irene was a friend. Not a close one but someone he had fun with back then. It’d be weird, never being able to see or talk to her again. It was still something he could deal with, but he didn’t know. Something to think of, at the very least.

So he stood there, at the beach, for a while. He had stopped thinking about it a while ago - his mind had now moved on to other subjects - but he still hadn’t moved. Part of him didn’t want to, really. If he moved he would be not here and there weren’t guns and people and the fear of death here. It was like… waking up, in a way. That metaphor worked. It was like when his alarm went off on a school day. He could just turn his alarm off if he wished and just kinda pretend that he could stay where it was warm and where it was comfy forever. He’d like that. He’d like to stay here and be safe, even for just that little bit longer.

Still though, best to not stay here for too long. Time moved whether he liked it or not, and it was bound that this beach wouldn’t be as safe and calming as it is now. Back then he had to get out of his bed, and now he had to actually put himself into potential danger, regardless of whether he wanted it to or not.

So, he looked around. Behind the beach; not at the sea but further into the land. There was a tower, looming over him.

That seemed interesting. At least enough for him.

So, now that he had an idea, he started moving.

((Jeremy Frasier, continued in The Brave May Not Live Long, but the Cautious Don't Live at All))
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