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∂αмєη
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|| Live Together | Die Alone || [§urvivors] Jan 8, 2012 1:56:08 GMT -5

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Post by ∂αмєη on Jan 8, 2012 1:56:08 GMT -5

there's a tl;dr at the bottom but I'd appreciate if you read it. at least read day 69 because that's where they are right now and that's what will happen in this thread.

[AB2020] [A55D5D] [927979]

Day One

It all happened so fast. Everything was calm at one moment and then it all fell apart faster than you could say "there's a killer on the island and he or she is murdering everybody and anybody". Even though that may take quite a bit to say, all I'm trying to prove is that everything happened quickly. One moment, we were all gathered around, trying to bring Amadi back from the cold clasp of death and the next, the sky opened up and was dumping everything on us. People say that it's raining cats and dogs but seriously, it must have been raining elephants and rhinos or something. Those animals that I read about in books back home were the only thing that came to mind when I tried to think of a joke to say to lighten the mood. Now was not the time though. Considering everything was only getting worse, jokes would not be welcomed with open arms at this time.

We couldn't stick around. Not when Amadi was so close to dying and we were completely in the open. "Let's go everybody! We're moving out." My voice was loud and commanding, that's for sure. Luckily, it wouldn't echo and only those around me would hear. Hopefully. We didn't need any extra attention on ourselves. For all we knew, the killer could be watching at any moment in time. Somebody was complaining from within the group but I couldn't tell where it was coming from. I knew it was from one of the newcomers, so I turned to face them while lifting Amadi off of the ground. "Listen. I've been on this island for a lot longer than you have. I have seen more people die on this island than you have. If you want to stay behind, be my fucking guest." And that was that. I turned away and walked off, not caring who followed me and who didn't.

The sun was down as we walked through the forest, the rain continuing to pour down through the trees. Every once in a while I would stop and move the hair from Amadi's face, carefully caressing her face with my thumb. "It's going to be alright, Amadi. Please, hang in there." It was taking to long to get to where we were going. Which really, I had no clue where we were going. I'd stop when I wanted to and everybody else would just have to suck it up. We needed to stick together or else we'd all die. That much was certain. And waiting around to get killed was not the smartest idea. That sounded like something an idiot would do. And hopefully, we weren't idiots. I wasn't. There were some who definitely weren't idiots as far as I could tell so far. Like Caspian. He had made it thus far as well. Same with Jaeman and Nyx and Silver. The newbies were different though. They would need to learn the rules now or die.

So to pass the time, I learned the names of each person who had decided to follow. Caspian Mathers was a simple man, at least as far as I could tell. What I mean by that is that he isn't all about getting noticed. He barely stood out in my mind from the events that happened before the psychopathic bastard started running around killing people. That's why I immediately began to enjoy talking to the man. He was somebody I could trust, or at least attempt to trust. Trust was hard to give at this point but he was on the right path to earning it. Silver Emmend was insane in my eyes. Considering she was kind of flipping out just moments before, I really didn't want to get any closer than I had to. Still, I introduced myself anyways to be nice and stuff. To be a gentleman, you know.

Then there was Nyx Dymock. She was nice, in my opinion. The mother of the group? Sure, she'd fit that role nice. Hopefully she wouldn't be insulted by that kind of thing. We didn't need to turn against each other at this point. Iris, Branden and Gavin were the new people. Their name would be the newbies in my mind and maybe I'd say it out loud eventually. Either way, they were the people I trusted the least. After all, I hadn't met them before today. Before the day that Amadi Hale almost died. And then there was Jaeman. And Nil. They were the ones I tried to stay away from even before hand because, well, they weren't exactly friendly. When I turned around so I could ask them how they were doing, I was surprised to see that only half of the duo was there. Obviously, that wasn't much of a shock. She never was one to follow what other people were saying, from what I experienced. Oh well.

But then the rain picked up and I heard a tree fall to my right. Looking in that direction, I caught a glimpse of somebody running past. "Nil!" My voice was hoarse for some reason as I shouted and I'm sure she wouldn't have heard it. I wouldn't be surprised if nobody heard it. And when I looked back up, she was gone. Whoever was in the forest was gone. Shit. That was the first thing that went through my mind. But then it all went away after another hour of walking. After walking for god knows how long, the feeling of sand between my toes greeted me. Opening my eyes slowly, I looked out at the horizon. And we were there. We were on the beach. Everything to the left and right of us could be seen and of course, the ocean was open. Nobody could come in and kill us without us noticing and being ready. "Yup, this is where we're staying."

Carefully setting Amadi down, I scouted around the beach to ensure that nobody else was around. We were still missing quite a few people that needed to be found. And it was the screaming that brought me back. "Iris! What's wrong?" Her hand was pointing towards the body that was now lifeless on the ground. All the colour had drained out of her body and there was a pool of blood under her head. Did she hit it while in the drain thing? The thoughts were gone when it clicked in my head that Amadi was dead. That she was gone. Every single part of me froze for a moment as I surveyed her body. There was nothing in the world that could move me except for her. Clutching onto my shirt tightly, I stared at the girl who sort of had my heart, or at least a piece of it. Who knew who I cared about at this point.

And then I moved. Right to her, my hands flying to her face and trying to speak to her. The words weren't coming out. Nothing was. She was dead. My voice croaked as I whispered her name. "Amadi. Please, don't be dead. Please. I love you." Did I? I wasn't sure how much I did but part of me loved her in some way. Now I would never find out. Amadi was dead. Dead to the world. Dead to me. And I swear, part of me died at that moment too. Most people would. She was the sweetest person I knew. And now she was gone. "Uh, we need to dig a hole. To put her in." That was all I said before I stood up and walked away. I couldn't handle this right now. We'd have plenty of time to handle it later. But right now, we were all alone on an island with a killer. There were bigger things to worry about.

Day Three

Her hole was finished in a few hours later that day. We had buried her and said a few words. Mine were held until much later on once everybody else had left. After carving her name in a stick and shoving it into the sand, we left her. We all left her because she left us. And that's all that happened for the rest of day one. And Day Two went by in an instant as we all took shifts resting. Now the sun rose again. Blinking quickly, I shifted from my spot on the beach, immediately shielding my eyes from the bright sunrise. It was my hour on guard and everybody was sleeping closely together, all surrounding me in a circle. My eyes were fixated on the forest but every so often I'd glance out to ensure that they didn't try to sneak around. We didn't know what the killer was capable of at this point. I blinked slowly, trying to avoid falling asleep.

But it didn't work. When my eyes opened again, the sun was already high up in the sky and it was nearing midday. "Shit!" Everybody around was still sleeping and nothing had been changed. Except for a message that was inscribed in the sand. Jumping over the sleeping body of Jaeman, I trained my eyes on the words.

"OUT TO GET WOOD. BE BACK IN A FEW.
- IRIS"

Glaring at the woods wouldn't bring her back but I definitely felt angry that she had gone out by herself. We were going to get killed if we went alone. That's how it had happened so far. Shrugging my shoulders, I moved back to the group. She said she'd be back. If not, it wasn't too much of a loss for me. We could definitely dig another hole and throw another body in. As long as I was still alive, that's all that mattered to me. At this point, my survival was key. Nobody else mattered because in the end, friendship wouldn't matter if I was going to be killed.

Day Ten

"So that's how it will happen, guys." Questions followed and I tried to quiet down the hype and only after a few minutes did it stop. "That's how it has to happen. We don't know how long we're going to be here and quite frankly, I don't want to sleep on sand any more." The questions followed once again and so I pointed at one of the people who had their hand up. It was tough to listen to their question as the wave that crawled up the beach was causing lots of noise. But still, the general meaning was understood. "We're going to position ourselves so that we can see the woods but it will take a bit for somebody to sneak in. That way we can stop them beforehand." The person nodded and stepped back.

It took a while to answer the questions that people had but soon enough, we were moving on to the next topic. For some reason, I became the de facto leader of the group. Nothing said that I had to be the leader but people listened to me and I quite liked it. Abusing power would never be something that I'd do but it sure as hell felt nice to be able to make decisions for a change. Lucan seemed to want to run everything around here. He did pretty well before I figured out that he had lied to me this whole time. Now, he was done. He was gone somewhere and he still had yet to show up. Somebody had said that they were probably dead and so, we accepted that. We carved their names into sticks and stuck them in the ground. Iris' name was added too. She had yet to come back after her trip for wood.

"Branden and Caspian. You two are to gather wood and start building shelters. We want it to have separate rooms for each of us but to have a roof over everything. I'll leave it to you two to figure out how that will be done." They seemed to be the toughest in my opinion. Well, Branden at least. It wasn't that Caspian didn't look strong. He did, for sure. But I picked him because I trusted him. He was the only friend I had left in this group and so, I wanted him to go to keep Branden in check. If Branden came back dead and he wasn't able to come up with the greatest story ever, I'd have my hands around his neck in an instant. For now though, I trusted them both enough to gather wood and things to build a shelter and to then build it.

"Gavin. You're going to help Silver look for water. We'll have a water trough built as soon as we get the shelter up and then we can keep it closer to us. Remember, running water is safe. We need safe water and only safe water." Silver wasn't entirely right in the head. That's what I thought, at least. Gavin could keep her in check if she was on the verge of a mental breakdown. And if not, he would die too. Another loss that really didn't have that much of an impact on me. Sure, having one less person would suck and I really wanted to keep us all safe but I wanted to ensure my safety. Yeah, that's what I wanted. "Nyx and Jaeman. Start gathering food and berries and plants. Anything. We'll figure out if it's poisonous after." And that's how we started our new life.

Day 34

Our hands collided in mid air as we completed a high five. Doesn't that make it sound more epic? That's what I thought too when I thought of it. Which was just a few seconds ago. You read it too, remember. Anyways, we were highfiving. Caspian and I. A month had passed since we first ended up on this beach and all of us still remained alive. Our shelter was up now too and we had a great source of food and water just past the tree line. Running my hands along the smooth bamboo of our shelter, I chuckled. "It's perfect." The roof was made of bamboo and palm tree leaves, keeping the sun off of us and anything falling from the sky away from our heads. Each room was divided and contained a bed made of leaves and grass and anything else that was soft that we could fine. It was the best shelter we could make for the time being.

"Silver. Jaeman. Gavin. You three need to head out and look for more wood." With that, they were off. We waited for them for an hour or two but they still hadn't returned so we can began to eat dinner. It was the scream that stopped us and pulled us into the forest. But they were running towards us anyways. In the arms of Jaeman was the body of Iris, all mangled to the point where it was nearly impossible to recognize her. So we put her in the ground and had a proper funeral. She deserved that much after everything that had happened. And then we moved on as if it didn't happen. We went back to everything that we now learned to do. We went back to our new lives and pretended that nothing else was different.

Day 58

"Great, Caspian. How long until you can get them finished?" He had explained his idea for weapons as we sat against the shelter. People were off getting food and water while we discussed what to do next. He had become my second in command but in reality, he was more like a partner than a side kick. Each decision I made was approved by both of us. Only the major decisions were mine and mine only to make. Which suited me fine. I liked the guy. He was truthful. Unlike Lucan. "Yup. The sticks are yours. Of course, I'd love for you and Branden to eventually collect all the sticks you end up using but you can use from our pile for now." And that was how we started the creation of our weapons. This all happened on the forty-eighth day.

He now had a row of nearly thirty makeshift weapons in front of me. They consisted of knives, spears, tridents and swords and each was constructed as if by a master. I smiled at him and took a few for myself before patting him on the back. Caspian had provided to be a great asset to the group. We decided to both learn first aid together and to perfect our knowledge as best as possible. And soon enough, we were serving as the group's personal medics. A leader and a doctor, huh? I liked the sound of that. But now wasn't the time to let it get to my head. We needed to work together so everybody could survive. That was my goal. We all needed to live and get off this island. The murderer was slowly picking us off and at this rate, we only had a month or two left before we were at the point of not needing to try. But the weapons gave us a chance. Now, he had a chance to fight back.

Day 69 . . . Present Day

We let them go to search for the others. Jaeman and Silver. But it didn't take long for them to scream and come running back once again. And it was then that we all saw the body of Frederick Bell. The head of the boy was what caught Silver's foot, throwing her forward and on to the ground. And all we could do was watch and listen as Jaeman yelled about how there was a body in the woods, all burned and hanging from a tree. It was Delilah, or so they said. And that meant we had another one dead. We were the only people left on the island. And so we gave ourselves a name. Myself, Caspian, Silver, Nyx, Branden, Jaeman and Gavin were now known as the Piscatus Seven. And that's how we survived the past two months. By surviving. By thriving. That was our story.

But it's only just begun. We weren't done yet. Not even close.

[[ooc; too long, didn't read? Well, you suck. Cause I put a lot of effort into that. anyways, they spent the past two months on the beach. the only ones left alive, according to their knowledge, are Mayson, Caspian, Jaeman, Branden, Gavin, Nyx and Silver. they have a shelter, food and water. they have weapons. Mayson is in charge and everything is run by him. Caspian is his second in command but he's more like a partner. this just documents what happened, summarized, over the past two months. background info if you want it. and Silver just tripped on a dead guy's head. so yeah all of the info can be found here]]

all I need's a whisper in a world that only shouts

Stare
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and i will hold you tight / like the moon in the arms of the sky

|| Live Together | Die Alone || [§urvivors] Jan 8, 2012 21:34:01 GMT -5

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Post by Stare on Jan 8, 2012 21:34:01 GMT -5

Silver Emmend

Your presence still lingers here,
And it won't leave me alone.
<><><><><><><><><><>

[/center]

Life has become a blur of meaningless days that do nothing to fill the void between me and her.

There are voices and faces and choices that are made for me, but none of it matters. Haven't they figured out that we're all going to die here, no matter what we do? It's been months. If people were looking for us, we would have been found by now. I don't say that aloud, though. I haven't been doing much talking lately. They treat me like a broken toy- used when absolutely needed, but otherwise tossed aside and ignored. And I feel broken. No, broken is not a strong enough word for it. I feel shattered. Unreachable and beyond repair. My movements are too mechanical and my responses all automatic, wiped of everything within except the absolute basics. Resembling something cold, something dead, some kind of rusty machine that continues to move though it's purpose has vanished.

I am not unhelpful. I do what they tell me to and only cry when they aren't looking so I don't disrupt the artificial peace we have established. But I do not socialize or attempt to join them. I am an outsider, forever drifting outside the circle with empty eyes and unsteady steps. I don't take any extra steps toward survival- instead I watch their trials and errors expressionlessly. Something within me has died, and the laughing, social, excited Silver is lost within a tumbling void of inky darkness within my heart. My silver locks have begun to grow out, strands beginning to reveal their true blonde shade near the roots. I'm becoming someone alien- a creature that breathes and moves and speaks but still isn't alive. Not in the way everyone else seems to be.

The only things that have managed to spur anything in me besides this empty sorrow are the horrors. Unseeing eyes, ice cold flesh, and frozen masks of terror do manage to draw something out of me. Those horrible images will be forever burned into my mind. I have been scarred beyond repair because of the things I've seen and the nightmares I've been having. I've learned to sleep as little as possible in order to stop the screams and onyx creature which in my mind is the incarnate of all the terrors that haunt this island. Instead, I lay with my back toward their sleeping forms, listening to their slow and deep breathing as I stare at the tumbling waves shining in the starlight, thinking about her.

Dead. It's a horrible, short word that carries a lot on one simple citizen. Yucca is gone forever. Never again will I see her smile or a flash of white hair. I'll never again be able to talk to her underneath the docks, with the ocean breeze hiding our soft murmurs and occasional laughs. I feel so empty without her moonlight filling me with smiles and laughter, and it just hurts so much that there are times when tears aren't enough. When there is only me and the nothing attempting to bandage an unhealable wound.

I loved her.

<><><><><><><><><><>

Her dress is made of glowing moonlight and her eyes are filled with the stars, white hair floating in a snowy halo around her head. She wears a silver tiara that shimmers in the pale light and her eyes could outshine the sun, but she doesn't need to outshine it because she is the moon, making her a thousand times more elegant and beautiful. One pale hand reaches forward as a smile dances on her lips, making my heart melt. "Yucca," I whisper, extending my hand toward her.

But suddenly the beautiful scene is melting away, the starry sky melting into something darker and more twisted. Yucca is drawn away from me by invisible strings, her dress no longer glowing as it hangs torn and dirtied like white rags. Crimson cuts adorn her arms and one long gash stretches across her face, and she screams so that I feel every inch of me become frozen with fear. "Yucca!" I shout, running as fast as I can but not ever coming close to her. Icy fingers wrap around my ankles and I slam into the ground, still shouting her name though it feels as if my voice has been pulled right out of my throat, for my lips now form the name silently. I am dragged along the slimy black ground, my fingers still reaching for the broken form of my best friend though she has become but a speck of moonlight in a sea of darkness. And then the fingers of bitter cold wrap around my legs, my waist, my arms, dragging me down into some sort of agony I cannot see, and her screams pierce the air even longer when she is no longer in sight...

"Yucca!" I cry out, my eyes snapping open. It takes me a moment of breathing in salty air to realize where I am. The beryl waves of the ocean tumble with white foam rising where them pound against themselves. Underneath me, golden sand burns, and I can tell by the warmth that lingers on my slightly burnt skin that I have been lying here for a long time. I must have been watching the ocean and fallen asleep, which is no surprise. I have gotten such a little amount of sleep lately, and all the screaming and running from earlier today tired me out greatly. I've been getting more sleep during the day than at night- when the moon rises, I do nothing but stare at it for as long as it is above the horizon, begging it to give Yucca back please and thank you because I love her and I need her right now.

I sit up slowly, my stiff muscles aching in protest. My head throbs, seeking a drink that I know I can't have yet because our water supply is limited. I haven't been eating a lot recently- even less than the others. I guess that means more food for them, though my lack of proper meals certainly isn't a noble act. It's just me losing my appetite along with my best friend. I am learning that the term 'skin and bones' is certainly no exaggeration, for we have all been reduced to just that. Walking skeletons, pretending we're going to make it. Pretending that if we eat and drink and put up a shelter then we'll be as good as alive. But really, we're just the opposite.

69 days. I've been marking them on a tree not far from camp. Sixty nine notches and about a thousand hearts with S+Y carved in the middle. The way I've been crying by that tree, it won't need rain for a year. It's my place away from the others, in the shade, where I can think. None of them are close to my age, so I don't really have anyone to talk to. I've sort of resorted to talking to the tree, even though it never answers. My sanity is made even more debatable when I chat with it, yes, but at least I don't have to sit around and watch them all play let's pretend when we all know we're going to die. I'm fifteen years old, the youngest of them all, and yet I'm the only one who seems to be thinking realistically.

Oh. And that's the other thing. She died on my birthday.

Maybe not exactly on my birthday, but I had turned fifteen the day everyone decided that she- along with the others- was dead. I cried a lot that day, and then when I ran out of tears I sat rocking back and forth gently, softly singing Happy Birthday to myself under the shade of my tree. Needless to say, I didn't get any birthday presents. I doubt any of them even knew. It didn't matter, though. I spent the majority of my earlier birthdays alone. That night, it was a full moon. I didn't sleep a wink, but instead lay on my back, watching it cross the endless sea of black above.

Now I stand and turn toward our camp silently, walking over toward the others and watching them closely before sitting down and stroking the white sand absentmindedly. I want to tell them that we're getting nowhere. That rescue isn't going to come. That none of us are going to go home. But I know none of them want to hear that, and so I remain silently watching them and thinking about her.

Always about her.[/color][/size][/blockquote][/justify]

Last Edit: Jan 9, 2012 16:29:58 GMT -5 by Stare

charade
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Thinking

|| Live Together | Die Alone || [§urvivors] Jan 14, 2012 18:56:37 GMT -5

Quote

Post by charade on Jan 14, 2012 18:56:37 GMT -5

Branden Sykes

Time.

Time has a funny way of sneaking up on you when you haven't paid it any attention. They say time flies when you're having fun. Well, what about when you're not having fun? Time tends to move at such a slow rate sometimes it feels like time is standing still. It drags on.

And on. And on and on and on.

Again, this was supposed to be fun. Oh how Branden rued the day he had let his parents convince him to take a vacation. It would be a long time before he'd be able to attend a wedding. Provided that he survived long enough to attend another one.

Sixty-nine days.

According to Silver's scratches in the tree at least.

Sixty-nine days of eking out an existence on a little spit of land named Piscatus. Living with an ever decreasing number of companions and ever growing memories of the dead. It was not how Branden had envisioned his first foray out into the world as a young adult. Not in the slightest.

And now, Jumpy and Sickly had found the bodies of two that everyone had already assumed to be dead. This told Branden two things.

1. As the bodies were still fresh, it meant the killer was still out there.

2. Other people were still... or had been alive until recently. Maybe... Just maybe someone else was still alive.

It was a more comfortable thought than those that had plagued his mind of late. More comfortable than the thoughts it brought up of certain events that had happened over the past two months...

The storm had taken everyone by surprise; and not for the first time, Branden wondered if the Gamemakers had their hands in this mess. Could this all be televised? Were hidden cameras watching their every move? The longer he was on this isle, the more paranoid he could feel himself growing. Of course, The possibilities were endless. And that made things all the worse. In a society that enjoyed watching children fight each other and die, how much more entertaining was watching a group of people die frightened and alone in a deserted area? It was around this time that Branden realized that no matter how much he tried, a commanding tone was not the tone that belonged to him.

No, it was to the one called Mayson that the role of leadership fell to. Bedraggled and scared out of their minds,several people had followed him to relative safety. Some of those people was even now, entombed along the shoreline where sticks bore their names carved into the wood.

As Branden began to dig new graves with his makeshift shovel
(Indeed, he felt that as he had been assigned to making shelter, he should be the one to dig the graves. For what was a grave but a shelter for a person no longer among the living?) He was uncomfortably reminded of a girl named Iris. Early on, she had expressed more than a passing interest in Branden; And despite her trash-talking foulmouthed, obnoxiously loud ways, Branden had found himself fond of the district two career's company. She had vanished not long after the group had made camp on the beach, leaving a message that she would look for kindling.

After she had been gone for more than a week, Branden told himself that she would not be returning. No one could survive for long by themselves. And so, weeks later when her body was found , mangled and bloody, he was able to put aside any burgeoning feelings. It was the popular opinion among the group that she had brought it upon herself by wandering off. But he knew; or at least he felt he knew why she had done so.

It was clear from the start that Iris had not been a camp favorite, and Branden decided she had gone off in an effort to show that she could be useful. To prove to the others that she wasn't useless. As far as Branden was concerned, the blame for her fate could be applied to anyone and everyone. Not that they would understand.

How could any of them understand?

The seven of them were living as best as they could. The dysfunctional family to top all dysfunctional families. And families like those never understood each other.

Branden shoveled more sand out of they way and leaned on his shovel. A few hours had passed since the discovery of the corpses, and the two holes were done. Delilah fit neatly into hers. The more unpleasant task was lowering Fred. Well, most of Fred anyway. The parts they had been able to find. Certainly, rolling dead Fred's head into the hole brought discomfort. Then came the task of filling the holes back in. Branden grunted, and began to heave sand over the unseeing faces.

What were the others thinking about, he wondered?.

Surely, this brought unpleasing thoughts to the forefront of everyone's minds. Jumpy must still believe that his sister is out there. Sickly obviously pined after her little friend. Legs and Curly seemed to keep to themselves more often than not. That or he hadn't been paying much attention to them. More often than not Branden just walked back and forth along the shoreline thinking about everything and nothing. He wondered what Mr.Fearless Leader would say about the days event. Something premeditated Branden supposed. And that left Cas. The one person with whom he felt a slight kinship. Cas was definitely the easiest to talk to.

Branden pounded the sticks into the sand. The pliability of the ground made it easy. The names were already carved into the sticks, for these two had been declared dead weeks ago. Only now, there was something to put under the stick. Before he left the grave area, he placed a small pink seashell on one grave, and a small grey shell on the other. They deserved better than what they got. They all did.

Briefly glancing at the array of empty graves, he wondered how many more would be filled before they got off the island.

If they got off the island.

With that in mind, Branden made his way back to the group,(who had no clue what he nicknamed them in his head) he flopped down and stated matter of factly: "Today sucks."

[/blockquote] [/size]

Last Edit: Jan 15, 2012 1:55:26 GMT -5 by charade

16 Jul 12, 23:43
GB: I bet you just sit at your computer with a tea cup and a monocle

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|| Live Together | Die Alone || [§urvivors] Jan 16, 2012 14:34:13 GMT -5

Quote

Post by shrimp on Jan 16, 2012 14:34:13 GMT -5

Life’s too short to even care at all oh
I’m losing my mind losing my mind losing control
These fishes in the sea they’re staring at me oh oh
Oh oh oh oh
A wet world longs for a beat of a drum
Oh

Fuck this shit.

Do you know how long I've been here, been forced to witness death at every corner, always keeping one eye open lest I be slain by the fucking crazy motherfucker who has been running around acting like Zeus with his lightning bolts of death? A very long time, I'll give you that much. It's been two months. Two fucking months filled with torture and so much shit that I'm surprised I haven't gone off the deep end or started to cry at every little thing like Silver's doing - it's terrible. I would think that people would realize by now, that we weren't coming back. We were supposed to be back a while ago. But, evidently Sherlock, we're not.

Sure, we're "thriving", for a troupe of seven strangers that has no idea about what in the hell that it should do when there's a maniac running around slashing peoples' throat off and cutting them in two and burning them until they can't be recognized by even the most advanced Keeper technology. Oh, we made our adorable little camp and our fantastic schedule of collecting crap to eat and grabbing the wood to make fire and all of that shit, but unless if we get off of this godforsaken island, we're dead meat.

Look, I'm grateful that Señor Bossypants got his shit together, because had I been alone, I'd be dead by now, because the only thing I can do is strangle someone with a rope or gut them with a knife - not kill them with a rubber band like Nila I'mfuckingperfectandbitchpleaseyouknowyou'rejealousofme Doherty. But it's been killing me, you know? Why the hell does he want to stay here? Isn't it more important that we get off the island or something like that? Are my priorities so misshapen and twisted by panic that clearly we shouldn't get out of the place where someone wants to kill us with his or her sadistic tendencies? I mean, really.

Of course, I keep my treacherous thoughts to myself, because lord knows what Mayson would do if he found out that I wanted to deviate from his plans (and what plans are these, may I ask? To romp around in the jungle until we die of old age/starvation/dehydration/electrocution/murder?), but there's times when I just want to get out, because that's the only way I'll be able to get home. And even though "home" isn't the most wonderful place on the planet (I know I've run away from it more than once and lived off the streets, whatever), but it's better than here, where you can die in an instant if you aren't careful. And...

Fine. You caught me. I miss them. I miss their pompous attitudes and stuck up noses. I miss their pathetic faces and irritating insults. And I even miss their too-good-for-you expression on their face and the anger that I feel whenever Nila beats me at all the things and father belittles me for existing because you know what, they're my family and I still love them, even though I hate them 85.743% of the time and want to shove their faces into a plastic bag and suck all the air out of it so they can die of suffocation. And I'll do anything - and I mean anything to get back to them. I'll... I'll suck the pus out of wounds, I'll collect firewood by myself al la Iris, I'll even kill them all to get back to them, because at least back in 4 I have a chance at life. Albeit a mediocre one.

Today is just like all of the other days - I'm sitting on the sand, letting the sun toast my already tan skin to an even darker tone, watching the waves lap lazily against the beach. To my right lie the graves - some are empty, as if to say Hey, guess what - you're fucked, bitch, and the rest are covered halfhazardly with crude sticks with chicken-scratch names scrawled onto its rotting surface. Lucan. Evelyn. Amadi. Nil. Datonec. Gabby. Greenuck. There's a lot of them too, sticking there above body-less graves, waiting for us to go scouting for human remains so their stick bodies can finally stand guard over something of importance, rather than the memory of an actual being. Qilena. Paisley. Mr. Bridgenne. Mrs. Bridgenne. Ol'Sawyer.

Silver marks another notch in the tree. Sixty-nine days have been spent in this hellhole. Fuck. Branden creates more graves. Annalise. Mahi. Yucca. Rebecca. Nyx and Caspian and Jaeman do whatever the fuck they feel like doing. And Mayson of course, acts like the leader that he was clearly born to be. There's no doubt that in a few minutes, he'll instruct us to go out hunting for more fruit so we can last for a few days (with terrible digestion systems, if that's the only thing we can find). It's like this everyday of course. There are no plans to leave the island, none that are spoken about at the very least. There are no steps to escape, only the here and the now are important in his eyes. And that's not good enough. Not for me, and I'm sure everyone else is thinking it too.

"Today sucks," is an understatement. "Every day sucks," I mutter in response, my hands rubbing my forehead in frustration as we sit here, unmoving, uncaring of the bloodbath of a future that awaits us. Davina. Iris. Delilah. Frederick. It's driving me insane, I can feel it in my bones. The desperation of Gavin Doherty will go to no ends to stay alive at this point, even if it means knocking Mayson out with a fairly large rock so we can finally think of a way to get back to 4, or eating my own hand for nourishment. I feel shaky, yet defeated. Anxious, yet ready for the murderer to swipe at me with titanium blades or explosions that cause an aftermath that's worse than the storm that separated all of us and derailed our plans to get back get even get out. If this keeps up, the only thing I'll do when he/she finally comes is offer up a cup of tea, then realize that of course, we don't have any because we're not in District 4. We're on a deserted island.

And finally, this realization is enough to send me off of my ass and walking towards Mr. Leader, bellowing in anger. "Hey, you've got all the answers now, don't you. Well why don't you get some fucking senses and realize that we have to, oh I don't know, get off of this island. Then maybe, you'll help us figure out an answer as to what we should do to get out of here." And yes, this is warranted, because he deserves it. He deserves to realize that we can't survive like this. Not here, where every night is filled with the terror and fear that this will be your last hour on earth. And by the time his dense mind will finally realize this, he'll be the one who'll have to be buried in a grave. Nyx. Silver. Caspian. Jaeman. Branden. Mayson. Gavin.

If I could find a way
to see this straight
I’d run away
To some fortune
that I should have found by now

Last Edit: Jan 16, 2012 14:34:33 GMT -5 by shrimp

sbeeg
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|| Live Together | Die Alone || [§urvivors] Jan 26, 2012 16:30:47 GMT -5

Quote

Post by sbeeg on Jan 26, 2012 16:30:47 GMT -5

Caspian Mathers

If there was one thing Caspian hated the most about staying for over two months on an island that was hostile and contained a a killer on a rampage was that it was too much like the Games. He had never been in them, no, but he had watched them for twenty years. It was almost like fate that he'd end up living like this for God knows how much longer.

There were different stages of mentality while on the island. The first was of desperation. We need to get off this shit piece of land before we get killed! We have to. Then acceptance of the situation and taking up responsibilities to keep the entire group alive. Of course, that didn't always work. Many of them died. Amadi. Gabby. Qilena. Even that frustrating Career Iris. There were others, a lot of them, but the names did come to Caspian as strongly as the others did. Well, except for Yucca. Silver would never let them forget her name. Caspian could hardly bring himself to look at Silver, much less talk to her. He had felt the pain of loosing a loved one but he felt it wasn't on the same scale. Her hurt must be on some magnificent level that he couldn't even fathom.

Mayson and Branden were the two Caspian spent most of his time with. He was assigned to building with Branden and they would get to talking. Mayson seemed pretty cool and he took charge immediately while Caspian was still stuck in his desperation phase. Some time during the acceptance period, Caspian had been raised from a lowly citizen to an adviser for Mayson and eventually even more than that. The slip of power he held over the tiny village of battered survivors didn't feel like anything besides guilt. Sending someone off to get fire wood when he knew people didn't return from such jobs. Or making anyone do anything when he could read the pain all over their faces. Getting people to dig the graves was the worst. Branden usually took the job, but it didn't help Caspian feel better in the least.

After everyone got settled then came the numb phase. Usual routine, with just a dull pain throbbing in your limbs that you managed to ignore (although there was still the occasional crying fit/breakdowns). On the latest day on the "Island of Walking Dead" as Caspian had dubbed in h sat facing the water that was coming in slowly over the sand. He was whittling a thin piece of wood into a spear- a skill he had mastered after doing it day after day. Looking out onto the clean blue water he wondered why he couldn't just abandon everything and dive in, swimming until he hit land that didn't keep anything dangerous within its borders. Was there such a place?

"Today sucks." Branden's voice broke the boy's thoughts. He looked over his shoulder at the others covered once again in a veil of silence that usually smothered the village.

"Every day sucks." All too true. Caspian thought that would be all the conversing there would be fore the day but evidently Gavin didn't agree. His words hit the beach like a cannonball as he went up to Mayson. Sure, there had been bursts of outrage before but nothing like this in such a long time. The Mathers boy stood up from the sand, stretching to his full height. He was barefoot and shirtless(items he didn't find necessary anymore) but held the wooden spear in his hand, eyeing Galvin. Taking a few steps forward in case he had to step in, Caspian looked from Mayson to Galvin.

What comes after numb? he wondered, unsettled by Galvin's fury. Is it destruction?

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|| Live Together | Die Alone || [§urvivors] Jan 27, 2012 17:18:29 GMT -5

Quote

Post by ∂αмєη on Jan 27, 2012 17:18:29 GMT -5

[AB2020] [A55D5D] [927979]

Four. The number echoed in my mind and escaped through clenched teeth as I counted the lap I was on. It was almost like a ritual for me to jog around the beach as much as I could until I collapsed and was out of breath. After all, what could you do to entertain yourself on an island that most people didn't know about. Only the seven of us, as far as we knew, knew that we were on Piscatus Island. And all seven of us had no clue where the island was exactly. Could we be miles and miles and miles off the coast of District Four and we'd never get back to the place we called home because no ships ever came out this far? Or could we be an hour away from the docks but we were never going to be picked up because nobody actually cared if any of us were missing.

Eight. The sweat was beginning to build up by now and my shirt was already damp. This was how it always was. On the days when we actually had something useful to do, I'd try to involve myself as much as possible. Boredom could kill if it got too extensive and so we had to find ways to keep busy. Mine was to work out to the point of exhaustion. People around camp may have believed that I was going crazy as I'd often come running through camp and down into the water as fast as I could, dropping down to my knees and enjoying the feeling of the cold water. I wasn't crazy though. There was nothing else to do. Nothing better than spending the day running. I wasn't running from something, nor was I running to something. Simply running. That was all.

Fifteen. That was enough for today. My breath escaped in large bursts as I returned to the structure on the beach. Reaching the trough that we had built, I scooped up some water and splashed my face with it. Most of the group was gathered nearby, discussing who knows what. I didn't even know how well they liked me. Was I cocky in their eyes? Did they think that I was a complete ass? Or did they think that I was the only reason we were still living and not lying face down in the ground like others on this island had been? I'd never know, I guess. Our conversations never lasted long enough to get into the deep stuff. After all, what could you talk about if the only news that we found out about was that somebody woke up with a headache so they went to swim in the water. That's what our lives were like now. We didn't even know who had won the Games for the past while. "Today sucks."

A loud bell cut the silence like a knife cutting through hot butter. Kids charged out from the school in District Four without looking back at their teachers who watched with annoyed faces. Summer break started today which meant that the kids could enjoy a few weeks of no class. The teachers would have to return to working normal jobs if they wanted to keep money in their pockets. Evidently summer was beneficial for one group only. My bag bounced against my back as I made my way down each stair. Tight boots clung to my feet and made clicking noises as they came in contact with the pavement. I was almost to at the bottom when I felt the two hands push against my back with all their might, sending me flying face first into a large puddle at the base of the staircase.

"Take that, cripple." His words bit into me like they were a venomous snake. I could feel the tears threatening to come out almost right away. It wasn't because of the obvious pain that I felt in my arm or because I was completely covered soaked and covered in mud but because this one boy hadn't stopped with the insults since last week. I had finally started school again in order to finish up with the end of year tests. Each day was taken slowly and I was often times watched by a teacher so they could ensure that I didn't do anything with my arm. The bullies found ways to pick on me though. Whether it was behind the school or when teachers weren't looking, I'd get a punch to the face or a kick to the gut. That's what I had to look forward to each day since the accident. Since I lost my arm.

I ran home so as to avoid being pushed around any more. The door was open, allowing the warm summer hair to rush in to my small house. Stepping inside and trying to be as quiet as possible was proving to be a lot tougher than I had hoped for. My father wouldn't have liked to see me tracking water and mud through the house. "Mayson? What the hell are you doing? Could today get any worse? I was ordered to go to my room after a quick scolding and after I got a smack to the face. My face was surely red from the tears and from the hit but I couldn't care less. Today was the worst day ever. But really, it wasn't. That's what I was thinking because I had so much anger and sadness built up inside. Really though, it wasn't just today that sucked. Every day sucked. That was my life.

"Every day sucks." He was right. We were living in a world where our days consisted of waking up, surviving and then going to sleep. There was nothing in our life that was worth living for. So why were we still living? That was a good question that I'm sure none of us could ever know the answer to. Even if we did have an idea of how to respond, nobody would ever say it. Nobody would ever say what was stopping us from giving up. If we all knew, we'd realize how stupid all of this was. How stupid life was now. I looked up at the sky and noticed that the sun was almost directly above us. Midday. We still had a lot to do. My mouth began to open so I could speak about what we needed to do but his voice cut in. He was obviously talking to me. "Well why don't you get some fucking senses and realize that we have to, oh I don't know, get off of this island."

I normally don't get mad. I'm usually able to deal with everything that builds up inside. Maybe it was because I had been living on this island for so long that I became so offensive. He had a point. We needed to get off this island as soon as possible. What bothered me the most was that he assumed I hadn't been trying to figure out a way to do it this whole time. "What a great idea, Gavin." My tone was definitely sarcastic as I spoke. Clenching my fists tightly, I began to speak again. "That has completely avoided my mind up until now. I'd love to live here for the rest of my life, though." The look on my face would be enough to tell him that I was joking if he didn't understand that the way I was saying it meant it was a joke.

"Why don't you share your idea on how to get away from here? There aren't any boats that have magically appeared near the shore and we haven't seen any in the middle of the ocean yet." I pointed towards the water with a shrug. No ships had gone by since we ended up on this beach. "It has got to be winter there by now. Do you really think any boats are going to be coming by?" I understood where he was coming from completely and really shouldn't have been acting as rude as I was. Changing my posture back to a normal one instead of being ready to fight if I needed to, I cleared my throat. "We all want to leave this island, Gavin. We just don't have a way to."

There was always the option of a raft, of course. Maybe that's what he was thinking of when he imagined a way to leave. Sure, we could build one if we got enough wood and spent enough time on it. Could it carry all of us, though? Could we guarantee it wouldn't break. I decided to voice my concerns. "Let's say we build a raft. We push it out in the water and all hop on. Then what? We don't know where home is. The raft may break and then we'd die in the water and end up being worse off than we are here." I've never been a genius but I'm fairly sure that my logic made sense. It was too risky to go out in the water. Waiting around was the only thing we could do unless we were prepared to die in the process of getting home. Was it even worth it?

"And what if we sent only a few people on a raft. Do you know how to get back here? I'm fairly certain none of us know where the fuck we are. So what? So we are going to abandon a few people and just hope that they'll be saved?" I was yelling at this point. It was definitely not how I should have been reacting, seeing as how I was a leader. Staying calm would have been a lot better. All of us had a short fuse though. Even the smallest of things could set us off. "I'm not going to let any of you die, even if it means the end of me. We don't have any options, Gavin. I get what you mean. Trust me, I get it. It doesn't matter though." Shrugging my shoulders, I took a step back. Arguing amongst one another wasn't going to help us at all. We needed to be close and we needed to be united if we wanted to survive any longer.

"We can't be at each other's throats either. We need to stick together or we're going to die alone. If you find a way to get out of here that doesn't mean the end of us, tell me it. I'll be glad to help. But as of now, we can't get off this fucking island." I wanted to pat Gavin on the shoulder. It wasn't good that I was letting out all the built up anger. It wasn't going to help anybody if I was making an enemy on this island. Patting him wouldn't be the best option though. Instead, I offered my hand forward for him to shake. He didn't have to. Nobody had to listen to what I was saying. There was nothing here that said I had to be a leader. And yet, I was. People had listened to me thus far with no complaints vocalized. We had been doing pretty well so far.

"Come on man. We both want the same thing. I can't do this alone and neither can you. If we are getting off of this island, we all need to work for it." My voice was calmer now. It had to be. Gavin would be a great friend, if that's what I could call the people who still remained alive with me. Trust was a big factor here. We had been hunted by that one person two months ago. Who knows if he or she was still out there, searching for people to kill. That was our enemy, not each other. We needed to live together or we'd die alone, one by one. That was like a creed. A creed that the survivors had to live by. That I had to live by.

And maybe living together would help us get away.

[[ooc; shitty post number two :D rambling posts ftw? so, the order is as it has been so far. gxk will post when she can find the time and then we'll fit her into the order.]]

all I need's a whisper in a world that only shouts

gxk
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When in doubt flail it out

|| Live Together | Die Alone || [§urvivors] Jan 28, 2012 21:30:23 GMT -5

Quote

Post by gxk on Jan 28, 2012 21:30:23 GMT -5

~Nyx Dymock~

How long were they going to be on this freakin island. All these people were starting to piss Nyx off more than usual, the more they spoke the more their voices sounded like nails on a chalkboard. The more she had to look at them, the more hideous they became. Her warped sense of reality was starting to take its toll on her. She had sent the past two weeks or so lashing out at anyone and anything that dared to come near her. All she wanted was to get back to the fucking mainland and move on with her life. Why did she even bother to come to this wedding? She hated weddings. Though you could hardly call it a wedding anymore, more like a mass murder site. The blood did little to affect the ex-career. She'd seen enough of the stuff, she'd seen people die before. And what the hell did she care about these people anyway? Paisley was the only one Nyx wanted to see live, and she was dead.

The secret side of me, I never let you see
I keep it caged but I can't control it
So stay away from me, the beast is ugly
I feel the rage and I just can't hold it

Glancing around every sight she took in made her angrier. The clouds, damn them to hell, the water, screw it, the light breeze, off with it's none existent head. Seething with rage the twenty-two year old forced herself to her feet and stomped to the water's edge, seriously debating trying to swim home. Too bad her stamina was lacking, and after that fire she still felt like her lungs were scorched. Or maybe the feeling was just a side effect of the burning sensation she felt all over her body. Then there was Silver. She frustrated Nyx the most. She couldn't hate her, but she couldn't stand her either. With any luck she would die next and things should be simple for Nyx. Hate. Everyone. She still wished the murderer would try to kill her. Then she could tear whoever it was limb from limb for what they did to Paisley. Then she would slit their throat, slash their gut open and tie them to a tree with their intestines. And when she'd done that she would stab their face over and over again, saving the eyes for last. It would be so much fun. The very idea thrilled her, and sent her into a fit of hysterical laughter. She was sure she was earning the attention of the other's but she didn't care.

It's scratching on the walls, in the closet, in the halls
It comes awake and I can't control it
Hiding under the bed, in my body, in my head
Why won't somebody come and save me from this, make it end?

Nyx let herself fall into the sand still laughing to the point her stomach ached. Scooping up two handfuls of white sand, she hurled it into the air, showering herself with the grains. "Damn them all to hell. They can all rot for all I fucking care." More crazed laughter. "They think I'm crazy, but really they're jealous. I'm the only one who stands a bloody chance of getting out of here." Suddenly her rush stopped. It seemed all the happiness had drained away as soon as it had come on. Resulting in a frustrated scream. They were all still here on this island with her. And they looked down on her, those fools. If they only knew what she could do, if they only knew what she was capable of. In her current mental state there was no telling what could happen.

I feel it deep within, it's just beneath the skin
I must confess that I feel like a monster
I hate what I've become, the nightmare's just begun
I must confess that I feel like a monster

Getting sick of the sand, Nyx jerked back up to her feet and strode toward the group, not caring what they thought of her recent outburst. "I wonder which one of us will die next... Isn't this just the best guessing game ever?" Her lips tugged into an unnerving smile. Nyx Dymock didn't smile unless she'd won, and as far as she could tell they were scared shitless and she was ready for whatever to happen. She was the strong one. With her dark hair impossibly knotted, pale skin sun-burnt, and eyes that looked like she was high it was a frighting sight on it's own. "Hats off to the murderer. I've been a career my whole life and I never have I seen such a fine assortment of ways to kill. You should all take notes. Maybe then you wouldn't be so disgustingly weak. It gives me heartburn just looking at you all."

It's hiding in the dark, it's teeth are razor sharp
There's no escape for me, it wants my soul, it wants my heart
No one can hear me scream, maybe it's just a dream
Maybe it's inside of me, stop this monster

Monster ~ Skillet

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and i will hold you tight / like the moon in the arms of the sky

|| Live Together | Die Alone || [§urvivors] Jan 31, 2012 21:43:17 GMT -5

Quote

Post by Stare on Jan 31, 2012 21:43:17 GMT -5

Silver Emmend

I'm sorry, I'm trying to keep up,
But I just can't seem to stop crying.
<><><><><><><><><><>

[/center]

I watch as disaster unfolds before me- tensions have been high for a long time, and I knew it would only be so long before someone snapped. Survival occupied us in the beginning. Instinct kept us from really noticing each other, and consequentially kept us from fighting. But then things began to prove, and so relationships with each other became strained. I drew back, away from them all, and watched the bomb slowly be set. I suppose there are some advantages to being an outsider, like seeing the chaos in the future while their still happily playing their game of pretend. And we aren't children of nature. We were born in District Four, living in luxury, with our only connection to the natural world being our deep love of water. But even that thin thread has been worn, the ends frayed. They put me in charge of water, as if they sensed my obsession. I know the water better than any of them, and I am the only one keeping in touch with it now while the rest of them argue and complain here on the beach.

It's not that I don't hate this island, because I do. And it's not that I don't miss District Four. No, I long for home just as much as any of them. I want to go to the docks where Yucca and I first met and I want to take a hot shower and I want chocolate so badly it hurts. But I've accepted that I'll never see these things again. I realize that by "surviving" out here, we're only making the torture last longer. I rest my elbows on my knees and settle my chin into my hands, listening to Mayson trying to keep things under control and pretending to be interested. When he finishes, I quietly add, "And don't forget the sharks. If it weren't for the sharks, I would be home right now."

I fall silent, then, tired of the conversation. Tired of everything. I'm sick of waiting here to die off one by one- if it's going to happen, I want it to happen sooner verses later. At least then I'll be with Yucca rather than stuck here listening the the sickening sound of their voices and counting the stars scattered across the sky while the rest of them are able to enjoy dreamland. I envy them greatly, for they don't have to experience what I'm experiencing. They can have real concerns, where for me, there aren't any. I don't care about what happens on this island, because none of it is real. None of it matters.

The only thing real and of my concern is the fact that Yucca is gone and she's never coming back.

At that moment, Nyx stumbles over, looking quite insane. My lips twist up into a cruel smile at her words. "Ah, yes, we should all take notes. I'll be sure to interview whoever it is right before I die." I roll my eyes and turn back toward the group, no longer smiling. "And you guys thought I was crazy." Perhaps I am. Perhaps we all are. Maybe we're all just heading down that path toward insanity, and Nyx's was just the shortest. It disgusts me to think how lowly they think of me because I couldn't stay strong in a time of absolute horror. I am fifteen years old. I'm not meant to experience these kinds of terrors. It's a miracle that I've managed to cling to my sanity this long.

"And don't you dare start fighting again," I warn, knowing that I will completely lose it if I hear one more heated word. "You all remember what happened back in the clearing. None of us listened to each other, and look what happened. How many more deaths is it going to take for you to learn how to just get along with each other for thirty seconds?"

And how much longer after that until they realize the other important things they've been ignoring? Like how there haven't been any search boats for us? Or how we're fooling ourselves if we think we'll ever be able to defeat the mastermind behind these horrors? How much longer until they finally give up, like I have, realizing it's all pointless? How long until they all go insane, just like Nyx? How long until they realize that the notches on the trees aren't keeping track of how long we've been here, but rather are counting down the days until our own destruction?

How long until they realize that we can't possibly survive on our own?[/color][/size][/blockquote][/justify]

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Thinking

|| Live Together | Die Alone || [§urvivors] Feb 2, 2012 1:46:34 GMT -5

Quote

Post by charade on Feb 2, 2012 1:46:34 GMT -5

Branden Sykes

Words are a dangerous thing.

To Branden's dismay, a simple three syllable utterance of his had resulted in a shouting match between several people. Tension had been running high for awhile, and he supposed this must have been the breaking point. After all, they had gone nearly a month without seeing any other signs of life on the island, and finding a pair of fresh corpses was enough to ruin anyone's day. For it meant that the killer was still out there and was still hunting. And if they were indeed the last seven lives on the island... well. How long before seven became six? Or less?

From his sitting position, Branden digested what the others had said. Once more, Curly screeched his displeasure at the current state of things, and once more, Mr. Fearless Leader explained why building a boat, or searching for rescue was a fool's errand. It was an argument that had taken place dozens of times; another staple of any dysfunctional family. As well, Branden noted the protective stance that Cas had taken with his spear; looking from Curly to Mr.FL and back again. Branded knew that Cas would step in if the argument escalated to violence. It had never come to that before... But now?

Who knew?

Legs quickly drew attention to herself by laughing and rolling around on the sand like some sort of demented kindergartner, all the while spouting nonsense about death and destruction.

You know, The usual.

Nothing really surprised Branden these days, but he was caught off guard by the person who emerged as the voice of reason. Who would have thought that Sickly Silver would attempt to make peace? Laying back to stare at the clear blue sky, he wished that something... anything would happen to break the monotony of day to day living.

That didn't include finding more corpses or becoming one ,of course.

[/blockquote] [/size]

16 Jul 12, 23:43
GB: I bet you just sit at your computer with a tea cup and a monocle