Re: The Battle Royale S2 [Round 2: Prospect Creek]
08-28-2010, 08:32 PM
Originally posted on MSPA by MalkyTop.
Timothy couldn't help but notice very quickly that they had teleported out of the previous round at some point. He peered over his borrowed book suspiciously at everything, growing worried at the mention of some sort of gas leak.
Beside him, Wardell still sat reading, and as he watched, he slowly turned a page.
"Aren't you...going to...are you really just going to sit there...?"
He sighed and pointedly raised the book closer to his face. "I intend to, yes."
"But..." Timothy waved a hand in the direction of everything. "...You know...?"
And it was only then that Wardell actually looked up from the text, one eyebrow raised. "No. I don't."
"It's...death. And gas leaks and crazy angels and stuff. You can't just ignore everything throughout the whole...thing..."
"You did just that a while ago," he pointed out. Timothy didn't have any anwer for that. He settled for ignoring it.
"Aren't you at least going to find a place to hide?"
Wardell looked around at the open, dusty space they were in. "It would be nice to go inside somewhere," he conceeded and the two looked for some nice, quiet, empty hidey hole to hang out for a while.
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The Photographer had wandered around the General Store in a daze, as though he had expected somebody to tell him what to do once he had got there. The knife had grown a little worried and was about to say something when suddenly, he seemed to remember something.
"Um! Er...hi everybody!" the gooey humanoid said. Some of the objects on the shelves roused themselves. It was the equivalent to a crowd stirring after hearing a particularly boring speech. "Well...I sorta need help. Do any of you know if there's a camera around here...?"
A low murmur started around in the store as ancient tins of food recalled old customers who talked excitedly about some sort of hired photographer coming in from out-of-town with one of those new-fangled cameras but for some reason, the Photographer couldn't focus on what they were babbling about. He suddenly wondered if it was a little silly to be talking to rusty tins of cans. I mean, uh, tins of something? What are in tins? Sardines?
The knife in his side sounded like it was talking to him too, but he ignored it. Woah, wait, in his side? Isn't that dangerous? He took the the the knife out of his side and stared at it before looking at his side. It wasn't bleeding. Or maybe he had invisible blood. He should plug up the hole with something then. Oh hey, there's a knife in his hand, that can plug holes, right? Cool, it works.
And oh look, there's a camera around his neck, that's what he was looking for, right? Okay, cool. Maybe he should go outside. The store was feeling um er small, right.
But the door swung open to let in two people. Thephotographer blinked at them and they stared back and wait, what sort of name was Thephotographer? How do you even pronounce that? That can't be a name. He needed a new name. Something that's actually a name. Like...hm. It was hard to think of a name with knives shouting. The knife was shouting something like 'are you listening' or something. Was Listening a name? Maybe his name should be Listening.
He focused on the two people again but they weren't people, of course they weren't people. What would people be doing here? It was a nice-looking bookend made out of clay. Good quality. He wasn't quite sure why it was so big, but he supposed bookends needed to grow too. The other thing was a giant cross.
"Hello," he said cheerfully and and and did that thing with his arm where it did that thing oh right, waving.
"Um," the cross said, exchanging glances with the bookend. "Hello."
"That's the camera-guy, right?" the bookend said, pointing over to him and how did bookends point, anyways? "He's not too bad, right? I'll just go behind the counter and read."
"Oh, are you the owner?" Listening asked, but the bookend disappeared into a side room. The door closed its mouth once it let him in. "Oh, I guess it's still closed. Hi! How're you? What's your name? I'm Listening. That's my name I just made up."
"Um, Timothy," the cross replied. Listening didn't think that was much of a name for a cross, but some parents just didn't have taste. "Are...are you okay? Weren't you the Photographer...?"
He looked down at his camera. "Why yes, I'm a photographer. What sort of job do you have? Something in church?"
Timothy shifted nervously. Listening briefly wondered how he could balance so well on one leg. "S-something like that. Are you sure you're okay...?"
"I'm not Okay, I'm Listening," he insisted. "You can have the name Okay if you want."
Timothy couldn't help but feel a little worried as he stared at the the obviously seriously delirious Photographer.
Timothy couldn't help but notice very quickly that they had teleported out of the previous round at some point. He peered over his borrowed book suspiciously at everything, growing worried at the mention of some sort of gas leak.
Beside him, Wardell still sat reading, and as he watched, he slowly turned a page.
"Aren't you...going to...are you really just going to sit there...?"
He sighed and pointedly raised the book closer to his face. "I intend to, yes."
"But..." Timothy waved a hand in the direction of everything. "...You know...?"
And it was only then that Wardell actually looked up from the text, one eyebrow raised. "No. I don't."
"It's...death. And gas leaks and crazy angels and stuff. You can't just ignore everything throughout the whole...thing..."
"You did just that a while ago," he pointed out. Timothy didn't have any anwer for that. He settled for ignoring it.
"Aren't you at least going to find a place to hide?"
Wardell looked around at the open, dusty space they were in. "It would be nice to go inside somewhere," he conceeded and the two looked for some nice, quiet, empty hidey hole to hang out for a while.
--------------------------------------------
The Photographer had wandered around the General Store in a daze, as though he had expected somebody to tell him what to do once he had got there. The knife had grown a little worried and was about to say something when suddenly, he seemed to remember something.
"Um! Er...hi everybody!" the gooey humanoid said. Some of the objects on the shelves roused themselves. It was the equivalent to a crowd stirring after hearing a particularly boring speech. "Well...I sorta need help. Do any of you know if there's a camera around here...?"
A low murmur started around in the store as ancient tins of food recalled old customers who talked excitedly about some sort of hired photographer coming in from out-of-town with one of those new-fangled cameras but for some reason, the Photographer couldn't focus on what they were babbling about. He suddenly wondered if it was a little silly to be talking to rusty tins of cans. I mean, uh, tins of something? What are in tins? Sardines?
The knife in his side sounded like it was talking to him too, but he ignored it. Woah, wait, in his side? Isn't that dangerous? He took the the the knife out of his side and stared at it before looking at his side. It wasn't bleeding. Or maybe he had invisible blood. He should plug up the hole with something then. Oh hey, there's a knife in his hand, that can plug holes, right? Cool, it works.
And oh look, there's a camera around his neck, that's what he was looking for, right? Okay, cool. Maybe he should go outside. The store was feeling um er small, right.
But the door swung open to let in two people. Thephotographer blinked at them and they stared back and wait, what sort of name was Thephotographer? How do you even pronounce that? That can't be a name. He needed a new name. Something that's actually a name. Like...hm. It was hard to think of a name with knives shouting. The knife was shouting something like 'are you listening' or something. Was Listening a name? Maybe his name should be Listening.
He focused on the two people again but they weren't people, of course they weren't people. What would people be doing here? It was a nice-looking bookend made out of clay. Good quality. He wasn't quite sure why it was so big, but he supposed bookends needed to grow too. The other thing was a giant cross.
"Hello," he said cheerfully and and and did that thing with his arm where it did that thing oh right, waving.
"Um," the cross said, exchanging glances with the bookend. "Hello."
"That's the camera-guy, right?" the bookend said, pointing over to him and how did bookends point, anyways? "He's not too bad, right? I'll just go behind the counter and read."
"Oh, are you the owner?" Listening asked, but the bookend disappeared into a side room. The door closed its mouth once it let him in. "Oh, I guess it's still closed. Hi! How're you? What's your name? I'm Listening. That's my name I just made up."
"Um, Timothy," the cross replied. Listening didn't think that was much of a name for a cross, but some parents just didn't have taste. "Are...are you okay? Weren't you the Photographer...?"
He looked down at his camera. "Why yes, I'm a photographer. What sort of job do you have? Something in church?"
Timothy shifted nervously. Listening briefly wondered how he could balance so well on one leg. "S-something like that. Are you sure you're okay...?"
"I'm not Okay, I'm Listening," he insisted. "You can have the name Okay if you want."
Timothy couldn't help but feel a little worried as he stared at the the obviously seriously delirious Photographer.