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Topic Title; Day 7, tagging EP, otherwise open
Topic Started: Apr 3 2017, 09:22 PM (643 Views)
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((Clarice Halwood continued from The show starts at five. Bring snacks.))

Day 7. Two days since the fire. Still not a glimmer of help to be heard of. As much as Clarice wanted to hope someone had seen the fire, she now realised that she had no idea how long a possible rescue would take. And maybe they hadn’t seen it at all. Should she try again? She couldn’t set another fire. The only other library was part of the asylum, and if she set the entire asylum ablaze it’d likely kill anyone inside it. Clarice could end up with the biggest body count of SotF history if she did that. No. Fires weren’t working.

Maybe Kizi had been right. Maybe slowing down the game by forming a community was the only viable path. But then there’d always be people like Nancy ready to break a lasting peace.

Well, no-one like Nancy anymore.

No-one like Isabel, either. She’d been announced dead on the announcements that morning. Scout had a hand in that one, too. But it seemed like half the island had.

Clarice wondered if she should feel happy that Isabel was dead. She’d killed Conrad. She’d killed a lot of people. But Clarice didn’t feel happy. She didn’t even feel that slight hint of dark, twisted satisfaction that she’d felt while hearing about Conrad’s death and thinking about what he’d done to Harold.

There wasn’t much feeling going on in there right now. She’d burned out as much as the library had. And even aside from that... well, she'd run out of water. That was an issue. Her mouth was all crackly and it was starting to make the rest of her feel like shit. She wasn’t sure how she was still on her feet.

But she was. And so she walked along the halls, footsteps loud and a little uneven. Loud enough that she didn’t hear the footsteps floating from elsewhere in the ward.
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Clarice came to a halt when she heard Ty’s voice. She wasn’t sure if she wanted to turn around, so she stood still as he spoke and stayed silent for a bit afterwards.

Part of her just wanted to walk away. Part of her still hated him. For Conrad. For leaving. Even for the stupid jerk things Ty had done years ago. A lifetime ago. Part of her wanted to continue on without ever seeing his jerk face again.

But that part of her wasn’t as strong as it’d been a few days ago. Almost everyone she’d met in the first couple of days was dead now, along with most of their killers. Everything was just a haze of death followed by more death, and it’d long since stopped having any meaning. In the end, did it really matter who was to blame specifically for each person’s death, when all the blame should be thrown in the face of the people who left them here?

Besides. Ty was her friend. She hated him a little, but he was still her friend.

She turned around. Ty had his hands up.

“Put your hands down, dipshit.”

Clarice studied him from a moment—unhurt, physically, but the island could do worse than physical harm. Then she took a few steps forward before grabbing him in a one-armed hug.

“...Sorry.”

She didn’t know if she meant sorry about Bee, or sorry for the blame she’d thrown at him. Maybe both. Both was good.
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Keith seemed decent enough. Hell, if Ty was vouching for him almost a week in there had to be something good.

“Well, uh… cool. Thanks for, y’know… looking out for him and stuff.” Clarice tried smiling at Keith, although it came out as that polite not-quite-smile that people sometimes did when passing each other on the street.

And now that they’d jumped the ‘glad you’re not dead, sad about everything else’ hurdle, Clarice had no idea what to say next. Which wouldn’t be a problem if this was just their everyday lives. It’d be a little awkward nod, maybe a bit of fumbling for a topic.

But there was always that sense that time was running out. That there wasn’t time for it. Like there was something Clarice could be doing, even if realistically she had no ideas. Even though she’d wasted the last two days barely talking to anyone.

But, shit. Right. She did have a goal, if only a short-term one.

She thumped Ty on the back once before letting go of him, looking past him and Keith. As if South would be at the end of the corridor, just waiting. But nothing was ever that easy. The loss of Ty’s weight caused a slight wobble. Her vision sliding a little before realising she was still on her feet and snapping back into place. Disconcerting, but ultimately harmless. Clarice put her hands out for a moment, blinking as the dizziness passed, before lowering her hands again.

“Have you—“ Clarice cut off, her mouth not wanting to function with so little liquid. She shut it for a moment, trying to find enough spit to work with. “...You seen Scout? Short. Orange hair. Usually looks grumpy.”
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Clarice tilted her head and squinted at Ty. “I mean… why wouldn’t I want to see her? Yeah, we weren’t sisters yet, but… well, you know. She’s still family, even if it wasn’t official yet. I don’t really know what I’m gonna do when I find her, can’t say I’m really happy about… well. But it’s something.”

Wait. Did Ty even know Clarice had a step-sister? Had she told him? It was pretty recent… fuck, she couldn’t remember.

“Oh. Uh. My dad was getting remarried?” Clarice said slowly, idly scratching at the edge of her bandages.

...No, that was a conversation for off-island. A conversation that… probably wasn’t going to be possible in ideal conditions, then. Was her dad watching now? Was Debbie? Were they upset with her for not prioritising Scout, instead running off to set fires that weren’t. Doing. Anything?

Clarice blinked a few times. Panic was starting to boil somewhere under the layer of apathy that had developed. But it wasn’t quite reaching the surface. Not yet. Maybe her words a little more stilted, her jaw a little tighter.

“Is… there… anyone either of you were looking for?”
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“Jasmine? I don’t think so...”

Had there been a Jasmine in there? There’d been girls that Clarice didn’t know that well… but no Jasmine. Had there? It was starting to feel like there were just chunks of her memory gone, or at least lost in the haze that was the last week.

“Right… right, I’m… sorry about Bee. But… but I’m glad you did that.” There was a little, throwaway thought—‘glad you didn’t leave her to rot in the sun like we did with Harold’—but it didn’t come out. It was gone before she could think about saying it. “There is a lot of… a lot of people gone by now, huh?”

Ty helping her, though… On one hand, having Ty with her—and this Keith guy, too, she supposed—didn’t seem bad, exactly. The couple of days without company was already maddening.

On the other hand, she was in no shape to be protecting anyone. It would end up with someone throwing themselves at a killer and being killed, like Jennifer had. Or Clarice putting people in danger, like she had with the fire. And if the terrorists saw her partnering up with another group and not betraying them, especially since the fire had ‘failed’ and Clarice lacked the kill to coast through the game, what if they realised she wasn’t playing? What if they realised the real purpose of the fire? What if they took it out not just on her, but on anyone near her at the time?

And Scout was a killer. Clarice didn’t want to admit it, but she was. What if Ty broke her arm, too? She… hadn’t killed Bee, had she? No… wrong day. Scout had only cropped up the day after. Clarice tried to remember who had, and found she couldn’t come up with a name or even the circumstances it had happened under.

“Uh… I’m good. I mean… searching for someone in a group doesn’t do much good anyway. Just, y’know… if you see her, tell her I’m looking for her?”
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Keith had said looking out for Scout was fine, and Clarice gave him a small smile and hoped it was legitimate, rather than a fake promise or some kind of trick, but she couldn’t just be distrusting everyone. Ty said he was fine, so he was fine. Even if Ty was a little questionable on that end, but only a little. He hadn’t killed yet, and--

And Ty was just leaving. He said he’d be back. That… was probably fine. Yeah? Maybe? He hadn’t looked happy, and fuck she’d just basically told him ‘I don’t trust you enough to travel with you.’ But that was a fuckin’ multi-layered issue and… shit, everything’s all jumbled.

“Oh, uh… cool, I’ll just… be here?”

Clarice awkwardly waved and then sat down, although it’d be more accurate to say that she just slid down the wall. She still was hesitant about Ty going with her, but running off when he just needed a moment? Fucking rude. Although maybe she should go after him, but maybe she’d only get in the way and maybe… maybe…

She was nodding off before she even finished the thought.
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Clarice didn’t quite wake up when Keith slammed the door. Enough to jerk her head slightly up, to open her eyes briefly, but not to really register or remember what was happening before she nodded off again.

She didn’t wake up until the next morning. Even then, the announcements only woke her up briefly. Not a lot of names that were important anymore. The killers and the dead, same as every other day. She heard Jeremy’s name on there. Was that everyone that she’d met the first day, apart from herself and Ty? Had there been others?

...Ty. Right, Ty.

Clarice looked around her. Somehow, her own bag remained undisturbed. But not only was Ty still gone, but Keith had left as well. It only now properly hit her that it was the next morning.

“...Son of a bitch,” she mumbled under her breath.

Where’d they gone? Had they just left her on purpose, or had they meant to come back? Both were worrying. But if she sat here wondering, she’d never find them. Or Scout. Or anyone.

Getting to her feet was a struggle. Picking up her bag was a struggle. This whole fucking island was just a pointless struggle from beginning to end, and she didn’t know how much longer she could just… drift like this.

The alternative wasn’t good, though. Better to… to… whatever she was doing.

((Clarice Halwood continued elsewhere.))
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