Tatum Donnelly (a_straychild) wrote in horror_story, @ 2013-09-08 04:20:00 |
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Entry tags: | cycle003, emma, incomplete, tatum |
WHO: Tatum & Emma (and OPEN).
WHEN: Sunday (the 9th) morning, very shortly after the group meeting.
WHERE: Along the beach, within sight of main camp/signal fire.
WHAT Can't deal with a confrontational meeting, must escape.
WARNING: TBD.
When the first voice began to rise in the group, even if it had been the voice of the beautiful Dakota Davenport whom she'd have given anything to listen to just a couple of days ago, that was enough for Tatum. She'd found the courage to speak up at the first meeting that had been held, when Robert York had asked for their names and skills, but that had been before the helicopter flew over them and left them here. Which had, from her observation, seemed to set a darker mood over the whole camp. It was no surprise that people were beginning to snap under the pressure, especially those more accustomed to a privileged lifestyle..
But Tatum couldn't take the yelling. She'd been lingering back, no quite joining the discussion, but as soon as Dakota started crying and yelling, and then the big copper-skinned man and York's pretty wife joined in with her harsh words, Tatum had immediately backed off from the entire situation. Fighting wouldn't fix anything, or make the coastguard suddenly come back and get them. They weren't playing a prank, they really were in trouble.. but the helicopter went right over head, and people losing their heads was only making her anxiety worse.
She'd held things together pretty well so far, even if she'd broken down on board the lifeboat, and even if her holding it together had everything to do with Emma being at her side. In the absence of Annie, in light of not knowing where her cousin was or what had happened to her, Tatum thought that she'd been doing pretty good. But people had, generally speaking, appeared to be getting along before now. She couldn't face them when they weren't, she'd rather just not know what was going on, and keep to herself. She didn't wait for, or look for, her girlfriend before wandering deliberately away from the group and toward the water instead.
Tatum didn't sit close enough to let the water actually lap at her legs, she didn't want to get her one change of clothes all wet again.. but she sat close enough that the surf touched her bare toes when she stretched them out, and her back was kept facing the camp, knees pulled up to her chest. Her arms wrapped around them, a comfortable and automatic defensive stance, holding herself tightly. Comforting herself, really, as she'd learned to do early. She always sat that way when she was brooding, or clamming up, trying to keep herself isolated. She couldn't hear anyone shouting anymore behind her, but she didn't know if it was because the meeting was over, or everyone had simmered down and begun to talk calmly.
Either way, she was staying the hell out of it, all of it. She had no opinions. People couldn't criticize an opinion if you didn't have any.