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Get Me Away From Here, I'm Dying; [ASK FIRST] [Content Warning: Polite Conversation]
Topic Started: Aug 16 2016, 07:47 PM (3,430 Views)
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Who is this sassy lost child
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((Taking over from frogue))

Georgia Lee kept her eyes fixated on Fiyori's, determined not to break their held gaze until the other girl turned away.

She had been overconfident. Naive. You could chain up an animal, maybe tame it, but you could never reason with it. She had forgotten that.

Fiyori was a predator first and foremost, but Georgia Lee would not allow herself to be prey. She couldn't expect a predator to empathize with the kind of creature that it was in her nature to destroy.

She wanted to glance over at Olivia, give her something reassuring, but there was nothing to give and to do so would mean to look away from Fiyori and signal some kind of weakness. Olivia was prey, petrified in Fiyori's rattlesnake gaze. She wouldn't have lasted on her own, but Georgia Lee couldn't truthfully say that she expected Liv to last long in here, either.

And for a moment, she wondered what kind of friend she was, to lock someone in here with a hungry animal.

But the moment passed and she took deliberate steps forward to help Fiyori with the barricade. Her hand lingered near the shovel. Just in case. Even the tourists who only go on a safari to gawk know enough to keep themselves armed.
"Art enriches the community, Steve, no less than a pulsing fire hose, or a fireman beating down a blazing door. So what if we're drawing a nude man? So what if all we ever draw is a nude man, or the same nude man over and over in all sorts of provocative positions? Context, not content! Process, not subject! Don't be so gauche, Steve, it's beneath you."
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Was she okay?

Of course she was. Really, when you thought about it critically, Fiyori's departure was a good outcome. She was intimidating but uncontrollable, and now she was definitively hostile where before only the possibility had existed. Georgia Lee had made as much use of Fiyori as she could have, and she would not miss her.

She had still stepped back when Fiyori made for the bag that Georgia Lee had just shrugged off as she went to move the barricade. She had still gripped the handle of the shovel almost painfully tightly, just for a moment.

But she was okay.

"Yes," Georgia Lee answered Olivia, and her voice was steady and sure. She could have been proud of that. "It's for the best, really."

Georgia Lee turned and met Olivia's eyes, and nodded once. "Let's keep going, like planned." She paused and then added, more softly, "I"m glad you're here, Liv." The softness lasted only a moment before she was back to business, with no hint that it had ever been.
"Art enriches the community, Steve, no less than a pulsing fire hose, or a fireman beating down a blazing door. So what if we're drawing a nude man? So what if all we ever draw is a nude man, or the same nude man over and over in all sorts of provocative positions? Context, not content! Process, not subject! Don't be so gauche, Steve, it's beneath you."
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((Skipping with Mara's permission to bring us up to Day 5))

They were safe for another day.

Fiyori, perhaps surprisingly, had neither killed nor died after abandoning their sanctuary.

Olivia was crying.

Georgia Lee sat, staring at the water they had collected and the barricade they had fortified, not thinking about much of anything. She had stopped bothering to cross names off the list carved into the table.

She thought that perhaps she should say something, offer some words of comfort or her shoulder to cry on. After four... five days, this would be five, she couldn't find the words.

The names were just words now too, after all.
"Art enriches the community, Steve, no less than a pulsing fire hose, or a fireman beating down a blazing door. So what if we're drawing a nude man? So what if all we ever draw is a nude man, or the same nude man over and over in all sorts of provocative positions? Context, not content! Process, not subject! Don't be so gauche, Steve, it's beneath you."
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Olivia just went on crying and crying. Georgia Lee wanted to be irritated, angry even, at how weak and irrational Olivia was being after she herself had spent so many days here guarding herself against the smallest sign of weakness, lest Fiyori notice and choose to capitalize on it. But Fiyori was gone now, and Georgia Lee was just so tired.

Wordlessly, she reached out and touched Olivia's arm. They sat like that for a while; Georgia Lee had long ago given up counting the minutes and hours. Her free hand went to her mouth. Her nails were bitten to the quick, and she instead nibbled at the skin on either side of the cuticles.

She stared at the gouged wood of the table, the names surrounded by grids, X's and Os. She had stopped crossing them off a day or so ago. Everyone here was dead, after all, in one way or another.

A sudden heat rose up inside her, and Georgia Lee squeezed her eyes shut. She had felt this sort of thing before. It was what prompted her to leave her home and run, it was the urge that she clamped down upon to keep from stooping to the level of her sisters when they tormented her.

She wondered if there were any trails or roads to run on outside. Everything beyond the bridge and this building might have been untouched wilderness, save for what the map told them. Georgia Lee wondered where in that wilderness Fiyori might be stalking around.

She wondered, for the first time, if she would really rather die in this stifling room than out in the dark unknown.

Our destinies are not in clay, but writ in jasper, or perhaps they are not yet writ at all and falls upon us to enscribe them.

That is a great responsibility, to be the master of one's own fate.

Georgia Lee screwed her eyes shut tighter, aware that her breathing was labored and that she was digging her teeth into her finger.

Here lies Georgia Lee Day; though she tried, tried harder than anyone, she did nothing of note.

She tasted blood.

Slowly and carefully, she lowered her hand. A ruby bead of blood oozed from her fingertip where her canine had broken the skin. She rubbed her thumb over it, bringing red detail into her fingerprint.

"Liv," she said slowly. "Is there anything you want to do with your life now? Anything at all?"
"Art enriches the community, Steve, no less than a pulsing fire hose, or a fireman beating down a blazing door. So what if we're drawing a nude man? So what if all we ever draw is a nude man, or the same nude man over and over in all sorts of provocative positions? Context, not content! Process, not subject! Don't be so gauche, Steve, it's beneath you."
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"No. I don't have any of those things." She didn't wear a watch. What would she carry around a pack of cards for?

Oh, other people did those things. Other people were so much more fulfilled in the mundane and frivolity of things.

Georgia Lee had never imagined that she might be bitter over the fact that she wasn't short-sighted enough to just be happy with what the uneven hand of fate had dumped in her lap. She stood.

"Do you- do you want to go looking for something like that? Just for a little while and then we'll come back here?" Nobody had bothered them for days, and there were fewer and fewer people who might by the hour. Surely they could just pull the doors to, make them look as though they were still locked, and their sanctuary would be untouched when they returned. Maybe they would even find something more useful than the shovel and Olivia's pick.

Georgia Lee stared at Olivia, willing her to make a choice. Fiyori might have been terrible and predatory, going along with Georgia Lee for lack of anything that appealed to her more and half as a joke, but at least she hadn't had to be dragged.
"Art enriches the community, Steve, no less than a pulsing fire hose, or a fireman beating down a blazing door. So what if we're drawing a nude man? So what if all we ever draw is a nude man, or the same nude man over and over in all sorts of provocative positions? Context, not content! Process, not subject! Don't be so gauche, Steve, it's beneath you."
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Sure. Not confident, hardly an affirmation. But it was enough.

Jerkily, Georgia Lee nodded. "Okay."

They couldn't just leave it at that, though. There had to be a plan, a contingency in case they ran into trouble, some kind of structure so that they wouldn't find themselves wandering aimlessly and endlessly. She sat back down, searching for an unmarked space on the table's surface.

"First, let's make a list of all the things we'll want to pick up if we find them. More food and water, for one thing, and- and any useful weapons." She spared Olivia a glance which she tried to make friendly and gentle. "If we stumble across a pack of cards, we can take that too. Anything else?"

She took their suggestions, carving them into the table in tiny scrawl, cramped there by their games and the names of the dead and dying. It took longer than she had initially thought, but she was at least somewhat satisfied with the result.

"First thing in the morning, we'll go look around. Better to wait in case we have to vacate the area quickly, and then we won't be tired."

Georgia Lee found that she had difficulty getting to sleep that night; the suggestion of leaving for the first time in days had instilled a restlessness in her, or rekindled that which had already been there but suppressed.

"That is a great responsibility, to be the master of one's own fate."

"Of course. We are the subjects of the heavens, and so are not bound by the laws of the earth. This world is as an egg, and one day you will will hatch from it to your eternal reward, God willing. Until then you are free, absolutely, to do whatever you will, but know you this: if everything you do is your choice and your choice alone, then no one but you can be held accountable for how you act, or what fate befalls you, and know you too that there most assuredly will be an accounting."


When she did sleep, she dreamed of flying.

((Georgia Lee Day continued in Until Then, You Are Free))
"Art enriches the community, Steve, no less than a pulsing fire hose, or a fireman beating down a blazing door. So what if we're drawing a nude man? So what if all we ever draw is a nude man, or the same nude man over and over in all sorts of provocative positions? Context, not content! Process, not subject! Don't be so gauche, Steve, it's beneath you."
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