|More Than What We R§VP'd For.| {Piscatus}

THIS - PROBABLY - WAS - A - BAD - IDEA

You don't know what to do as:

♣ YOU stand there, confused as fuck. Everything has simply erupted into chaos as soon as the stragglers stumbled into the clearing, and you don't know a single one of them (save for a shimmering-gray haired girl who reeks of heartache and angst). Your isolation from the main group is causing stress and irritability on your part, even though somehow Silver (Silver!) has survived and you haven't broken your promise because she's still alivealivealive and kicking. Instead, you can barely focus on the plans, eyes glancing back and forth to make sure that a movement in the shadows does not result in the death of one of your companions - death has occurred far too frequently already, and even though the first domino has been knocked down, there is always something to hinder its trapeze into survival. It's clear that from the killer's medieval methods and lunatic actions that it is a professional, and no matter what, it will be after you. All of you.

Such thoughts are able to keep you at bay from the conversation, only nodding lamely at group exclamations and widening your eyebrows as the thunderous boy and porcelain-doll girl make it into the clearing, rumors of torture and maniacal planning proving your unsaid thesis. Fists clench even tighter in anger and fear, and for the first time, you truly feel the need to punch this thing not for your own benefit, but because it has the audacity and the remorselessness to commit these spine-chilling murderers. And for now, you don't even care that one of your own might be the actual nutcase - nobody else deserves to die, and you'll swear to Ripred that you will not let that happen; whatever you do, nobody else will die on your watch (yet of course you know that eventually you will fail and yet another promise will be severed as easily as the threads of life themselves, brought to an end by the fates which control them). For no one deserves this kind of end, one that resonates with fear and hatred and undeserved guilt.

However, cries of Silver-haired girls reawaken you to the situation at hand and for the time you're forced to swallow your feelings of revenge and replace them with not-totally-feigned feelings of worry and determination (for how can anyone truly defeat a beast who has killed off so many at once?). Yet others are already consoling her, and you're left standing, awkwardly at the edge of the clearing, knowing that you are finally no longer in your comfort zone. The Gavin Doherty that used to push his way into the crowd is no more - death and blood has rendered him useless and lame, unable to speak, unable to move or do anything for he's never truly experienced the gore that comes with bloodlust and now that he has become indirectly acquainted with it he would like more than anything to return home, where his father's too-high standards and sister's indifference will be welcomed with open arms.

You do know however, that this will no longer occur. Deep down in the confines of emotions that have been locked away with the key thrown away, you know that you won't get out of here alive, that with all your training, you're still sub-par and useless compared to this ragtag team of rebels who refuse to give in and surrender to their ultimate demises. They are planning to throw their gauntlets, while yours has already been detached and dropped into the moat, difficult to fish out and too much of a hassle to truly bother with. You dislike the feelings that you have from this revelation - grief, emptiness, fear, for those emotions are not what the previous Gavin Doherty would even have acknowledged as experiencing. Pre-wedding Doherty would be the boastful one, the guy who could help everyone get to safety. Not this one. Sure, the two of you may look the same, talk the same and even move the same, but you aren't the same. You are two completely different people now, and it shows.

The plan is truly finalized now, and you answer in the positive with a gruff "Alright," yet you know that a part of you doesn't want a part of this, even though the arrogance and bravery that rests in your wants ininininin. Your insecurities have finally risen to the point where they are no longer things you strive to get rid of - rather, they have staged an uprising, and won. Shoulders are more slumped, posture isn't as straight, bags lie under your eyes that weigh as heavy as bricks and it could be painfully obvious to many that you're not ready too young to die want to go home make it all stop please because we don't deserve this, and you've become too tired from years of abuse that this is merely a catalyst in your actions. But as you finally give the last piece of your will over to these misguided ghosts, shadows race into the clearing, and an alarm of "HEY!" leaves your mouth.

~

You don't know what to do as:

♠ THE two of you dash for your lives, afraid of what may come or what has already occurred. It's not as if the two of you are so stupid as to forget the whole reason that you're in this mess in the first place; one of Lucan's attendees (for the crew of Plausible has already been gutted and decapitated, screams left unheard as the fire spread through the hotel) is out of his or her mind, clearly. The list of suspects doesn't narrow either - too many are careers, too many have reasons, too many have secrets. Only time and death will determine the survivors from the satanic being, and you desperately hope that said being is not following you at this moment (and you know that it cannot possibly be Lucan; you saw him drown, you revived him, he's yours, and the things that are yours will not be subjected to the same opinions as the others).

But if it's not Lucan, who is it? And what happened to Amadi and Mayson? The two left before you could reach them, and now you're scrambling to catch up, to see where the duo have gone (Mayson is a suspicious character - you don't trust him and his words, as innocent as they may seem). You are hopelessly lost now, finally stopping in a fork in the woods, where both directions could have been the way towards safety (while the other is instant death - you can feel it in the way that the silence becomes overwhelming), and the pressure is too much for you. You already can feel panic approaching, and fast, but your best friend is still waterlogged from the near-death experience and you're positive that he is not up for decision-making. For minutes, the two of you stand there, silent, listening, watching for anything that could make your decision finalized.

For a split second, you think you hear a crack in the woods, and feet dart forwards, carrying Mayson with you, You know that you're fast (for a time, you held the lowest time for sprinting from one side of the gymnasium to the other), but the only questions are if this attacker is faster?, or what if this is a trap? or maybe even are we going to die? But you keep going, because you know that to turn back would be suicide, and you will not let the darkness take the ones that you love - not this time, not next time, not ever (surely you will die before watching the only one ones that mean anything to you suffer and perish in the shadows of a sadistic killer).

Reminiscing has cost you - you lost ground, were forced to try to spot blondeblond hair in the shadows as you blindly followed a path, but of course you didn't quite know where you were going, but hope is beginning to reach you as you begin to hear voices, escalating louder and louder until you're certain that you're almost in the grasp of safety and the living. And then the crack of a branch is even nearer and you scream in surprise, dragging Lucan along like a rag doll as you weave in and out of trees, trying to make yourselves untraceable (yet the SMASH of feet against the ground do nothing for concealment and you know that it is watching, and always will be), and everything seems to be in vain when finally, finally you burst out of the shadows and into the midst of strangers. You can't comprehend why there are unknown people lurking on the island, but Amadi is here, and so is Mayson, and you know that they are safe.

Yet as you try to catch your breath, you can't help but wonder who these people are - by the clothes on their backs and worried voices, they too are in the same predicament as you are (silently, you chastise Lucan for inviting more people that needed - he truly only needed you, Amadi, Gabby and former-bride-to-be-now-dead-in-a-heap-Evelyn at this "wedding", but you suppose that he was always one for traditional wedding ceremonies); they're all scared, and by the shout of one surly teenager, they know that something's on the loose. Bronze and Rust colored hues seem to be splattered on some ensembles, and you realize that these travelers have witnessed death too, just as Caspian and the girl with the silver hair (you realize that her blond-haired friend must have been lost in the numerous causalities, for she is alone once again and crying this time, and you feel a pang of sympathy, for the duo's tumultuous relationship is eerily similar to yours and Lucan's) have both seen the same. You wonder if "Is this it?" (but you know that it just can't be it, for Gabby has to be alive and kicking, for the small girl simply can't just die now because you will not allow it, because she doesn't deserve to, no matter how strange her personality may be at times of stress), but you know that it's not.

There's still at least one more person lurking in the shadows, and he or she is ready to strike at any moment.