Thera stared at the obelisk in the center of the room.
They were serious. Whoever it was in charge of this demented game- they were going to force her to vote.
Breathing grew more strained, the room tilted. She was shaking her head. No. No. No. She would not have blood on her hands. She would not cast a vote. They couldn't make her.
Would they kill her if she refused?
Instead of lingering in the center room, Thera turned and disappeared into her own behind door three. She refused to look at that voting box- that guillotine- any longer.
The terrified scream that ripped at her throat was as much a surprise to her as anyone else. Thera's hands fumbled at the door before it burst open and she stumbled back into the center room. Tears. Tears, oh god she was crying and she couldn't stop it. "This isn't fair!" she cried. "This isn't fair!"
Lucy watched a woman she didn't know retreat to her own room without voting, feeling her jaw clench along with her fits and shaking her head. She looked around the rest of the group and sighed, lingering on her partner and Loto for a moment.
"My decision isn't changing guys," she said quietly, breathing out quietly. "T-This... fucking sucks- but I'm not going to die for some stupid game. It's eat or be eaten and... I'm no goddamn duck. Convince the others would you...?"
She didn't wait, really, she knew if she did she'd change her mind because well.
She was casting a vote to kill people.
How did this make her any better than the wolf herself?
Peter could sense the look everyone was shooting his direction. He wasn't sure why. At the group meeting, he had spaced out the discussion and listened to non-existing sounds in his head instead of the accusation of who did what to whom for why. He only wished to go home; but the looks from people... why were they looking at him like that...
The black booth in the center beckoned him forward. Peter wished Papa was here right now. His eyes glanced over to Rory, hoping for his sister to give him a hint. When she averted his look, Peter lowered his head and hurried over to the booth. He was the only one so far who had ran toward it.
He didn't understand the game, didn't understand the rules, but he knew he had to pick a set of names or something bad would happen. So he scanned in the only pair he could get himself to do and hoped for the best.
It was only after her rant and after she had voted that Rory dared approach her brother. "Didn't vote for you," She murmured, softly and quietly enough that you would of had to of been standing over the pair to hear her, as she pulled Peter into a hug, "Don't give a damn what they say, I wouldn't do it...couldn't do it. Care too much to do that..."
Her face might of been obscured by Peter's hair but, judging by the way her body shook, Rory was sobbing.
He could not remember the last time he had heard Prokofiev's many symphonies enter his ears and get a sense of dread. Dance of the Knights asked for such an emotion from the listener. Peter and the Wolf seemed somewhat uplifting with the flutes, march-like with the brass section, yet he could only hear the sound of the percussion imitating the sounds of his dangerously-close-to-slowing heart. Click-thump, click-thump...
He pretended not to feel the others' eyes on his back as he took his turn in the booth: a black curtain that swallowed him like a veil. His quaking hand filled in the logical response - or so he thought - and upon stepping out, he could feel the cold blood on his hands knowing he had just assisted in sending someone to their death.
Self-preservation, he reminded himself... kill two, save many.
Comments 35
They were serious. Whoever it was in charge of this demented game- they were going to force her to vote.
Breathing grew more strained, the room tilted. She was shaking her head. No. No. No. She would not have blood on her hands. She would not cast a vote. They couldn't make her.
Would they kill her if she refused?
Instead of lingering in the center room, Thera turned and disappeared into her own behind door three. She refused to look at that voting box- that guillotine- any longer.
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By refusing to vote you have not only put your life on the line but your partner, Remy's, as well.
Please reconsider your choice. You have one more chance to vote on this poll. Refuse again and you will be eliminated.
[and, as if nothing had ever happened, the lights turn back on and the door opens.]
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"My decision isn't changing guys," she said quietly, breathing out quietly. "T-This... fucking sucks- but I'm not going to die for some stupid game. It's eat or be eaten and... I'm no goddamn duck. Convince the others would you...?"
She didn't wait, really, she knew if she did she'd change her mind because well.
She was casting a vote to kill people.
How did this make her any better than the wolf herself?
Reply
The black booth in the center beckoned him forward. Peter wished Papa was here right now. His eyes glanced over to Rory, hoping for his sister to give him a hint. When she averted his look, Peter lowered his head and hurried over to the booth. He was the only one so far who had ran toward it.
He didn't understand the game, didn't understand the rules, but he knew he had to pick a set of names or something bad would happen. So he scanned in the only pair he could get himself to do and hoped for the best.
Reply
Her face might of been obscured by Peter's hair but, judging by the way her body shook, Rory was sobbing.
Reply
He pretended not to feel the others' eyes on his back as he took his turn in the booth: a black curtain that swallowed him like a veil. His quaking hand filled in the logical response - or so he thought - and upon stepping out, he could feel the cold blood on his hands knowing he had just assisted in sending someone to their death.
Self-preservation, he reminded himself... kill two, save many.
Reply
Remy gestured for all the others to gather around, carefully turning so her back was to the camera, and whispered,
"I have an idea."
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