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St. Patrick's Purgatory; Open
Topic Started: Oct 7 2016, 08:02 PM (1,201 Views)
Grim Wolf
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The Very Best
[ *  *  *  *  *  * ]
Jasper left. Leslie lay in the sand without answering Tara's question. Junko snapped and growled like a chained dog.

The fire was dying, it's toxic-sweet smoke curling up into the air, its embers dulling. The pounding in Tara's bandaged arm hadn't stopped. She didn't want it to. Pain brought focus and clarity. Pain kept her aware of the necessities. Of all that would be required of her, before she was to die happy. Like Cris. Like...

Like so many.

She rose slowly, almost fell as her head swam dizzily. She allowed herself a drink of water as the silence stretched, and a nibble from one of the ration bars. She stared at nothing.

"We're all gonna die," Tara said.

She put everything back in her bag, and rose to her feet. Her head swam again, but this was easier to deal with. Her throat didn't feel quite so dry.

"Me," she said. "You. Her." She jerked her head to Leslie, and then up in the direction Jasper had gone. "Him, too. One of us might walk away. But that's no guarantee. And if you do, what? A couple decades? We were always dying."

She moved towards Junko. "You want to go down swinging 'cause you think you'll get to live? That's dumb. You want to go down swinging 'cause that's the only way you can live with yourself?" She smiled, and it softened her severe face. "I think that's beautiful."

She crossed over to Leslie, looked down at the tall girl, smiling still. "You're gorgeous, by the way," Tara said. "I always thought so. Just wanted to make sure you knew."

But there was no time for anything but passing conversations, learning as many stories as she could, and she needed to get moving again. Time was short. She couldn't see the hourglass, but she knew she was running out of sand.

She started running again, her neck aching, her arm pounding, a smile on her face.

"Go down swinging," she whispered thoughtfully, as though tasting the words and trying to decide if she liked them.

(Tara Behzad continued In This Starless Night)
Edited by Grim Wolf, Nov 10 2016, 03:35 PM.
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V6 Players

Tara Behzad: "They don't get to decide how I die."

Lizzie Luz: "I don't want to go."

Alex Tarquin: "No more masks."

V5 Players

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Can you hear me?
[ *  *  *  *  *  * ]
Oh boy. Leslie said nothing. Jasper just ran off. And Tara… Tara… god, Junko didn’t even know.

She’d stood up, and went on this thing about how everyone was going to die eventually, even if they made it off the island. Junko felt her facial features tighten even more, her muscles did the same. No one was threatening, but… gah. She had no clue what Tara was doing. Burning her arms, asking how she wanted to die, telling them they were going to die anyways, hitting on Leslie? Well, yeah, to be fair, Leslie did have this kinda punk look going for her. It looked good, but anyways.

This whole thing made her feel uncomfortable. Like she hadn’t accomplished much by being here. Was it anger? Did Tara strike a nerve? Or was it something else? All she knew was that her muscles were still tight, still primed. The bat still waited in her hand, unused for the morning. Junko wasn’t sure what she had wanted when she approached her and Jasper. But she’d gotten something, she wasn’t sure what.

Though, she guessed Tara had a point.

Even if she was going to die someday, even long after the game, going down fighting seemed like it’d make her feel more… comfortable. With herself, if that’s what Tara meant. A few times, she’d joked about her funeral back home. Hell, she always thought the actual death bit would happen because she did something stupid to herself. Back then, it was just that: jokes. But the serious thought of dying? The game was, to be honest, the first time she’d thought about that.

But yeah. If she died fighting, she’d probably feel better, wouldn’t she? Not like… no. She pushed aside the memory again. That wasn’t what was going to happen to her. If she had to die, go down swinging, she just said.

Junko awkwardly stood in the sand. Leslie had been surprisingly quiet? Like, again, ragebomb, but you’d think she’d say something. For a moment, Junko felt the most awkward she’d been in her life. She became more aware of the bat, still resting on her shoulder. She didn’t feel strong and confident.

“… Yeah, I’m leaving too,” she said, slipping the bat back into her bag.

It was still hefty, with all the stuff. Maybe that wasn’t the best way to carry the bat. But she turned on her heels, and started walking in the other direction. Maybe she was done jogging for the morning. But she still hummed a few notes of the Rocky theme. It was comforting, somehow.

At first her steps were awkward and unconfident. But as she thought more, her steps away from the fire pit became bolder.

Junko Kurosawa was still going to go down swinging.

((Junko Kurosawa continued in Bread Suit))

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don't take no guff
[ * ]
First the boy had packed up and left. Then the wounded girl. Then Junko. Leslie didn't feel the need to chase after them this time. No, she was too preoccupied with the riddle she'd been left.

At first, she would've agreed with Junko. But why? Why was she - no, they, fighting to live? It was almost pointless! The questions lingered, grew, moulded itself into a tight vise around her reasoning mind and wouldn't let go until it had been answered. All she'd done up until now was let emotions and irrational preferences take control. There was nothing else to it. Everything was just a muddle of chaos and passing caprices. Without the answer, she knew the apathy would keep gnawing at her senses until she gave into it. The answer was paramount. But.


Finding the answer actually didn't take very long. All it took was for Leslie to realize a few things:

She still enjoyed life. On some level, she still desired it no matter what, and wished it to continue. There were still things she wanted to fight for, to have, to give. Wasn't that reason enough? Even though her life would indeed end inevitably, game or no game--!

I'm not ready to die just yet. And that was how it all clicked. One way or another, she fought to extend what she had in the present, not an imagined future. They all did. The boy wanted peace a little more than he wanted life, perhaps, but he still valued it. The wounded girl seemed to be ready to give up on it altogether, oddly enough. Maybe she didn't understand. Junko was getting close, although she expressed it differently.

Leslie stood back up, grabbing her bag and slinging it over her shoulder.

She didn't find the conversation. But she'd found something more important. Clarity.

With energy and purpose, she walked once more. Into the light.

((Leslie Price continued elsewhere!))
2015: V6 Incident
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