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The Latest Story That I Know is the One That I'm Supposed to Go Out With; Open, sundown Day 3 --> morning Day 4
Topic Started: Dec 18 2016, 03:08 PM (1,313 Views)
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[ *  *  *  *  *  * ]
((Nadia Riva continued from The Thing About Life is That One Day You'll Be Dead))

And now she was walking back to the asylum. It was interesting how Nadia kept finding herself drawn to it. Maybe it was the rain about to start, or maybe it was the grand scale of the asylum that felt slightly more comforting then being in smaller areas like the town. Or maybe it was just because Nadia didn't want to sleep outside again. She hadn't seen anyone since she left Will and Rea's corpse back at the cliffs, and now she was halfway across the bridge.

Nadia stopped and looked to the edge of the bridge. She remembered how that one girl jumped off the edge a few days ago. Nadia shook her head as she thought about it. She wasn't going to take that way out. After making a big declaration to Will, she was going to survive this game, and she wasn't going to waste everything.

Nadia decided to take a break. She'd have to keep walking if she were to get to the asylum before dark, but a day of sleeping and walking outdoors had taken its toll on her. She could sit in the vehicle lane of the bridge for at least five minutes to munch on some crackers. It had been a while since she had last eaten.

Nadia found a fairly decent spot to sit, keeping the chair leg by her side. She pulled out a tin of crackers and began to eat. They were still pretty lame. If she was back home, she'd be able to at least have some cheese with these, and since it was her dad's favorite snack, there would be plenty of cheese to choose from. If she got home, that would be a good thing to do. At the very least, that gave her something to do while sitting: think of what she wanted to do once she got off this island.

1. Eat a big plate of cheese and crackers.
2. Get Rod to take me on an awesome date away from the public spotlight.
3. Get the fuck out of Kingman and to Los Angeles at the first opportunity.
4. See if Rochelle's agency would sign me.
5. Make an awesome career for yourself.


It was somewhat dumb to do, and it could lead to disappointment down the road, but it was nice to have that mental distraction. It took away from the lousy crackers, and it took away from the hellish experience here.
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"Fuck."

Nadia looked up when she suddenly felt a sudden downpour come crashing down on her. So much for her break. Nadia quickly threw the tin of crackers into her bag and stood up. She grabbed the chair leg in her hand and started to hustle down the path towards the asylum.

As Nadia felt the cold rain hit her body, giving her the first shower in days, she suddenly found that rain water wasn't the only thing making contact with her body. The cold, cracked concrete of the ground was too.

While she ran, Nadia's foot got caught in the cracked ground and caused her to stumble off balance. She fell forward, her arms flailing to regain balance, until she faceplanted on the ground. She felt the chair leg fly out of her hands as she let out a cry.

Her hands stung, as did the side of her face. She continued to feel the unwanted massage of the rainfall as she lay on the ground for a few moments. She let out a long sigh. This day was starting to get worse every second, and she just knew there had to be something else to be like Barbra Streisand and rain on her parade.
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Nadia pushed herself off the pavement and got on her knees. She stood up and stumbled forward, running over to the chair leg. She quickly scooped it up and ran towards the end of the bridge. She tried to ignore the stinging in her knees, hands, and cheek as she kept running.

As she reached the end of the bridge, the rainfall was starting to get unbearable. She was cold and miserable, and she didn't want to run any further. She looked to the side and realized there was an area under the landing part of the bridge she could take shelter under. She made haste to get there and out of the rain. To her luck, there was no one there, so she made herself the troll beneath.

Under the safety of the bridge, Nadia spent the remainder of the light time to put band aids on her scratches and to removed some of her wet clothes. She pulled out the emergency blanket and wrapped it around herself. She hoped no one else would think to take shelter under here today. She wasn't going to be comfortable here, but it was better than out there.



Nadia stirred awake as the crackling sound of the announcements came to life. She rubbed her head and stretched her arms, reaching for the cardigan and skirt she left to dry. She was still cold, so she hoped she could get up and see some warm sunlight.

The terrorist rattled off more names and more deaths. Some people killed again, some overdosed, some committed suicide. It was hard to believe, but Nadia was finding it slightly easier to accept this was all happening. There wasn't anyone she was sad to hear was dead, but they were all starting to blur. It was already the fourth day here, and the deaths would keep happening. Nadia wasn't sure if she could wait for rescue any more. Odds were only one person was leaving at this point.

Once dressed and once she knew where to avoid, Nadia stepped out from under the bridge, keeping the chair leg in her hand. She began to move back to the landing of the bridge. She wasn't sure if she still wanted to go to the asylum or not, but she wanted to at least see what the area around her was like.
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((Bridgette Sommerfeld continued from In This Starless Night))

It didn't feel to Bridgette like she and Bryony had had a particularly productive night. On the other hand, neither of them was dead, so that was something. Henry was dead. Tara, somewhat surprisingly, wasn't. Isabel had killed again. Same song, different verse.

Bryony's girlcrush hadn't shown up on the announcement, so Bridgette figured that was reason enough to get moving again and look for her. Aimless wandering wasn't really her idea of a good time, but what else was there to do?

They had sheltered in the staff block for the night, and Bridgette didn't mind the on and off sprinkling of rain that morning after the night's downpour. She wasn't paying much attention to it, her mind occupied by other things.

Where should she get a real weapon? What kind of weapon? She had never fired a gun, but she didn't like the idea of using a knife or a bludgeon on someone. She didn't want to have to get close or take things slow. Quick, clean, and efficient when it came to that would be ideal. Maybe Alba would have something useful on her that Bridgette could... borrow.

She was lost in her thoughts as they crossed the bridge, not paying as much attention to her surroundings as she should have been. She froze up when she spotted Nadia at the end, directly in front of them. Shit. No avoiding that encounter. She and Bryony should have come up with a game plan for this situation. Poor planning. Stupid.

She drew up short, gesturing to Bryony to stop as well. "Hey," she called out. She tensed, ready to run back to the other side of the bridge if necessary. Come to think of it, she ought to make sure that Bryony ended up between her and Nadia if things went south.
"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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((Bryony Adams continued from In This Starless Night))

Bryony looked down at the card in her hand as a sigh escaped her lips. There were seven red diamonds on the face of the card, and a pattern that made her feel more and more nauseous the longer she looked at it on the back. She had no idea if the seven of diamonds was significant in any way. She’d never played poker or blackjack or, well… done much of anything to do with cards aside from go fish, so she had no clue whether it was important in any card games or what it represented in cartomancy or the like. But right now, she was keeping it close to her chest and looking down at it every now and then whilst they walked, because to her, it represented that little bit of hope she was so desperately clinging on to.

And God knows, she needed a reminder that she just had to keep pushing forwards right now.

Oskar had been killed yesterday, and Bryony’s heart and mind were in utter turmoil over it. He had been a dear, trusted friend back at home, someone she could talk to about nearly anything, someone she could turn to when things were looking down. And she wanted so desperately to be heartbroken over his death, but there was a mental blockade that had stopped her from totally breaking down when the announcements had played that morning. He’d killed someone on the first day, hadn’t he? She didn’t know what had happened between him and Jane to cause it to happen, whether there had been some sort of misunderstanding, or whether he had acted in self-defence, or whether he’d actually had malice in his heart the whole time. And now she’d never get the chance to even ask him, and never get the chance to believe in him again.

And the worst part was that it hadn’t even been his death that had hit her the hardest. Henry had died last night, and another one of her friends had killed him. She was scared, in all honesty. This wasn’t something Al would have ever, ever done. But he had done it, and she wanted desperately to ask him why, what had caused this very real change over him, but she was even more terrified at what he’d do if she confronted him like that.

That wasn’t even getting into the fact that she’d been talking to Henry mere hours before he’d met his maker. That someone she had seen living and breathing and moving right in front of her had gone off and been killed was… hard to stomach, to put it mildly. Bryony wondered, as she trailed behind Bridgette, whether it had been her fault. Whether she had pushed Henry away by instantly asking for food, whether he secretly hated her and didn’t want to be around her, whether she could have done a better job of trying to get him stay and help her out.

Bryony’s feet dragged to a halt and she looked at the face of the card again. She sniffed, and sighed again, and tried to think of seven small mercies to go with each of the diamonds staring up at her.

Her t-shirt had finally dried out enough to the point that she had felt comfortable slipping the creased garment on underneath her hoody before they’d left the staff block. That was one. It had stopped raining, and her clothes were fairly quickly drying out from the brief showers. That counted as two, bringing her to three. She felt guilty thinking it, but the fact that Bridgette hadn’t decided to murder her in her sleep was, well, obviously a good thing. Most importantly, and a fact that collectively brought her up to seven small mercies, was that there were still people out there on the island for her. Alice was still alive. Sandra was still alive. Alba was still alive.

Hope. She just had to keep on hoping for the best, and maybe some tiny miracle would happen. Bryony tucked the card back in her hoody pocket, and started jogging to make up the distance between her and Bridgette, almost running into the other girl’s arm as she gestured to stop. There was another girl a few metres away from them, that Bryony recognised from her classes as Nadia Riva. Aside from that, though, they were pretty much like chalk and cheese. The odds of a quick-tempered model and a meek little artist becoming friends had always been slim.

Bryony gave Nadia a hesitant little wave anyway. She could still be friendly and helpful, after all. She might have even seen Alba at some point. She could only hope for the best, even when she was expecting the worst.
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Nadia turned and noticed two girls coming towards her from the bridge. She waited, but then recognized them as Bridgette Sommerfeld and Bryony Adams. They were two artsy girls from the senior class. Nadia didn't really have any relationships with either of them, but she didn't find them as annoying as many of her other classmates. Besides, neither of them were reported killers, and they didn't look threatening right now, so Nadia was probably okay around them. The chair leg wasn't a good weapon, but it put her ahead of these two at least.

Bridgette said hello, and Bryony gave a small wave. Nadia figured it couldn't hurt to deal with these two for a moment before she headed off.

"Hey," she said back.

Nadia gripped the chair leg as it hung by her side.

"I don't suppose you two are people I should be worried about?"
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"Not unless we need to worry about you." Bridgette lowered her hand from its half-hearted wave and rested it on her hip. "We're not looking for trouble. Just passing through, seeing if there's anything useful around." She glanced over at Bryony. "Looking for some people. You been alone?"

She didn't know Nadia well; they had some overlapping interests, but that was about it. Pretty girl, not a bad photographer. None of that told her whether Nadia would become a threat. She was more defensive than aggressive at this point, though, and that was as good a sign as any. Still, Bridgette took care to angle herself so that she could slip behind Bryony at the first sign of trouble.

"I'm guessing you don't really know her," she said to Bryony, low enough that Nadia wouldn't be able to catch it.
"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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It took only a couple of seconds for Bryony to pull out her usual party trick of staying silent, letting someone else speak for her and moving back into their shadow. She stood off to the side of Bridgette, like the world’s least threatening bodyguard, as the other two girls talked. She tried to shuffle a little bit further behind her current ally, but interestingly enough, it looked like Bridgette was trying to do the same thing. Was she just as nervous as Bryony was? She didn’t look it, and definitely hadn’t sounded it. Bryony hadn’t even considered that she might be a stellar actor.

It wasn’t much, but the faintest twitch of a smile conjured itself on Bryony’s face. Maybe there was more to Bridgette than just a blunt attitude.

It briefly struck Bryony that, as desperate as she was to find Alba again, she really knew nothing about the other girl. She didn’t know what her hobbies were, what her home life was like, her friends, family… anything, really. She hadn’t really gotten the chance to do so when Bradley was around, the topic of conversation always being brought back to his… provocative sense of humour. She had no clue whether Nadia and Alba ran in the same social circles, whether Nadia would be seeking her out as well.

As soon as Bryony found Alba again and they could settle somewhere safe and sound, she was gonna ask Alba everything she could possibly think of about her life.

For the time being, though, Bryony shook her head, a blink-and-you-missed-it movement. She mouthed the words “No, not at all” to Bridgette, hoping she was decent at lip reading, before looking back at Nadia.

“Please, um… could you tell us who you’ve seen, um, so far?”
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So neither Bridgette nor Bryony were looking for trouble. Nadia was content to let the girls pass by once she divulged her information. Both ladies were merely curious about who she's seen on the island. That shouldn't be so hard. Nadia hadn't seen too many killers or dangerous people, but it had also been a while since she had seen anyone who people could actually be looking for.

"Um, let me think," Nadia said.

"First day, I saw the Jasmine who died, Maxim, Jerry Fury, and Brendan Harte. I don't know where the latter three are anymore, but with the latter two, I could care less since one is a known killer and the other is crazy enough to become one.

"Uh, day two, there was Asuka and Toby, but Toby ran off with Jerry. Asuka was in the asylum last I checked. No idea if she's still there.

"Yesterday, the only living person I saw was that Scottish dickhead Will McKinley carting around his girlfriend's corpse like Faust or something. Since then, I haven't seen anyone. Mostly took to hiding under the bridge and waiting out the rain.

"Did I name anyone you were looking for?"
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No luck on the Alba front then, but at least they had a few names they knew to avoid now. Jerry was a dick anyway, and Will... was also a dick, actually, but now it sounded like his girlfriend's death had pushed him over the edge on top of that. Nothing Bridgette wanted to touch there. "Nope, none of those. We're looking for Alba, uh..." She didn't actually know Alba's last name, she realized. Maybe Alba was uncommon enough a first name that there would only be one running around, at least. Bridgette nodded towards Bryony. "Her friend Alba." She didn't know what Alba looked like either, so that was up to Bryony to describe her.

Nadia's remark about camping out under the bridge intrigued her though. "How much room is there under the bridge? Could you set up pretty comfortably down there?" That could be something, even if there was nothing to gather in the area. A home base, so to speak, that most other people wouldn't bother seeking out, unlike the buildings on the island. The water running under the bridge might be drinkable if they could find some way to purify it (maybe there was something in the first-aid kits?). Bridgette remembered Henry's weak attempt at scrounging up fishing supplies back on the dock. It hadn't worked out for him, but they could keep that open as an option.

"Mind if I check it out?" Not like Nadia owned the bridge or anything, but it was better to make sure she wouldn't freak out if Bridgette started walking towards her.
"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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((Caedyn Miller Continued From Forlorn and Forgotten Knowledge))

So, here were some facts:

1. Everybody had supplies, but dead people didn't need them.

2. Most everybody was gonna die.

3. Caedyn wasn't going to die.

4. All the people who were going to die should just give her their shit.

It was pretty clear and simple from where she was sitting. Like, why waste supplies on people who weren't worth it to start with? It'd be easier if everybody else understood that, but she figured they weren't going to be that understanding. And of course she didn't want to kill anyone. That'd be crazy, mostly because then everybody would know she did it and then where would that leave her? It was way better to take something from someone who was sleeping. Or, if they wouldn't sleep...help them along a little bit. Not kill them, obvs, just put them down for a little nap.

That's how Caedyn came to be standing in the shadows of the bridge, bottle of scotch tight in her hands, waiting for someone to walk on by. She'd heard at least one person up top. If she could just whack 'em in the back of the head like they did in the movies, she could yoink their stuff and be back to Jazzy in no time. It was a foolproof plan. All she had to do was wait for one of the little vermin to skitter down here into her trap.

Jah, sometimes it blew her mind how fucking smart she was.
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((All GMing approved.))

Nadia shrugged and stepped back to allow Bridgette passage. "Be my guest. I wasn't planning to stick around much longer."

Bridgette nodded, gave Bryony a glance that she hoped was reassuring, and passed Nadia to climb down the slope alongside the bridge. Not a bad little area from up here, at least. This could be something to work with so that they didn't have to keep running from building to building every night. Hard to see from the top, decent shelter from the elements. She reached the bottom of the slope and dusted the bit of dirt that had collected on her pants away, before straightening to examine the strip of land and water before her.

The dim gray lighting and light rain didn't do much for visibility in the shadow of the bridge. That wasn't a problem, until the slightest bit of movement in the corner of Bridgette's vision that told her she wasn't alone down here.

"Hey-!"
"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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Somebody was coming. Somebody was coming, and she was perfectly hidden, and they'd never even know it was her. Nobody would ever know she-

"Hey-!"
-----------------

Like most predators, the Cassowary does not react well to being startled. Despite being savage and cunning predators, the majority of reported cassowary attacks are purely in self-defense after sudden, aggressive movement. This one will be no different. While the Cassowary is not a stealthy creature, her prey would have been much wiser to simply play along with her hopeless charade. By squeaking and acknowledging her presence, it has sealed its fate.

The Cassowary screeches. Its claw comes up and cuts through the air without a second thought.

-----------------

Too loud, too quick. She didn't even see who she was hitting before the bottle came swinging down onto their head. It shattered on impact, sending blood and glass and booze flying all over the place. Between the shout of the girl she just hit, her own squeal, and the shattering glass, anybody nearby would have heard that. She needed to run, but she couldn't pick up her feet. She was frozen, staring at the jagged remains of the bottle and the crumpling form looking up at her.
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Bridgette instinctively brought her hands up to shield her face as the bottle swung towards her, but her face wasn't the target. Pain shot from the top of her head and down her spine before concentrating in the spot where she had been struck. She staggered, spots popping in her vision.

There was glass in her hair. Her hands touched the top of her head and her fingers came away sticky with blood and alcohol.

"You-"

She stumbled, went down on one knee. Her arms jerked involuntarily.

"Y-y-y-y-"

Something was wrong something was terribly terribly wrong oh god-

Bridgette pitched forward, limbs spasming as she toppled into the dirt, still choking on the words that she couldn't seem to force out.
"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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Oh. Oh no. That was wrong. She was doing it fucking wrong, or, or playing it up, trying to make her feel bad or something, that wasn't how this worked. She was supposed to just fall over, nice and quiet, and go to sleep. Instead she was bleeding everywhere, and twitching, and making noises, like, like...

Go the fuck to sleep.

It was supposed to be easy for both of them. Why did she have to fuck it up like this? Bridgette, the twitching, spastic face was named Bridgette. Caedyn hated her. She never really even knew her but right now she hated her. She had to go and fuck things up and get hurt way worse than she had to. On top of that, all she was ever supposed to do here was die, just like everyone else, but she couldn't even get that right. She just kept-

Oh fuck oh fuckohfuckohfu-

It was too much. With all the booze in her system, the disgust and horror finally sent Caedyn retching over for the second time since she woke up. On the bright side, she didn't get it all over herself this time. She was able to just spill it all over Bridgette's flailing body.
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