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third life:
His own cries of anguish continued to ring in Grian’s ears, even though his tears had long since run dry. He finally managed to tear his gaze away from the body that lay in front of him, and that stupid smiling face. Emotions twirled around in a dizzying dance inside his head, none truly coherent except a profound sense of relief and the horribly empty feeling that was grief. Slowly, he managed to stand on shaky legs. His bound wings felt heavier than normal, and he was dimly aware of the speckled feathers that blew around him in the soft desert breeze. Feathers. They were everywhere, on everything, almost as numerous as the sand that surrounded him. Then, suddenly, the wind picked up, taking the feathers with it. It swirled, and swirled, and swirled, forming a funnel around him. It was suffocating. At first, Grian tried to struggle, to swim in the almost horribly soft sea. But the attempts didn’t last long, as the fight and the dread and everything else dropped down on him like a bombshell. He fell to his knees, leaning heavily on what he came to realize to be the grave of Pizza, the llama he and Scar had raised. That realization made him come back to his senses for a brief moment. Just moments ago, he’d been in the cactus ring, kneeling over the lifeless body of his closest ally, and maybe, just maybe, his only friend. And now he was dead. For the second time in the past five minutes, he felt another overwhelming sense of grief and regret. Scar was dead. He was alone now. Well, almost. The feathers were still swirling around him in an almost mesmerizing spiral, the only openings being the empty space below and the sky above. Wait- below? And then Grian realized he was falling, fast. In another time, he supposed he would’ve been scared, but in this moment, the only thing he felt was a sense of calm.
last life:
Grian gave Joel one last playful shove before they began their mad dash through the woods. Both knew it was probably futile, but they couldn’t just give themselves up, now could they? Now, Grian’s thoughts were solely focused on the ground ahead of them as he ran, trying not to trip on roots. Branches whipped at his skin, and he had to slow down once or twice to disentangle his clothes from their wooden grips. All the while, his pursuers gained on him, their footsteps echoing on the forest floor. At first, he thought he might’ve had the chance to outrun them and hide somewhere, but his hopes were dashed as he realized they would just follow the feathers that undoubtedly trailed behind him. So now, it was simply a game of cat and mouse; and the cat was catching up fast. He heard the sound of an arrow being drawn terrifyingly close behind him, and he knew he was done for. “Joel!” Grian shouted, in more of a warning than anything. He swore he heard his name echoing back as there was a sharp twang of a bowstring, followed shortly by a force that sent him sprawling forward, a brief bloom of pain, and then finally, an all consuming black.
double life:
Grian knew it was a bad idea, but he couldn’t help it. The red haze that clouded his mind demanded action, and this certainly was that. His feet pounded on the stone as he rushed for the ladder, trying to ignore the sounds of the warden moving in the water just past the stone wall on his left. His wings caught on every corner he turned, and he knew a trail of feathers was following. He couldn’t help but feel a sense of unease at the thought. In the two times he had died on red before, in previous seasons of this horrific game, the feathers had followed him as well. It was as if they were trying to tell him something, and he had a sinking feeling that it was probably death. He tried to shake his head clear of these thoughts as he finally reached the ladder. He grabbed the rungs and quickly began to ascend, but before he could even get two feet off the ground there was a deafening screech. Instinctively, Grian’s hands flew to cover his ears, and he barely realized what he had done before he hit the stone floor with a sickening thud. He could faintly feel the sticky warmth of blood pooling around his head, but he didn’t have the time to figure out if it was coming from his ears or some other part of his skull before the world went dark.
Up on the surface, Scar had his horse galloping through a forest when he suddenly pulled up in the center of a small clearing. Something, some sixth sense, told him that something was horribly wrong. He fumbled for his communicator, just starting to punch in a message when a tricolored feather drifted down and landed on it. He stared at it for a moment, confused. But before he had the chance to think further, pain shot through his head and his hands flew up to his ears. For a moment, he just swayed on top of his horse. And then, he slowly tipped right and slid off of the horse, landing on the soft grass with a thump.
limited life:
Grian was still in a bit of a daze from the encounter he’d just had. Somehow, someway, Etho had remembered the diamond swords they had sworn over in the very beginning of this hellish nightmare. Impulse had joined them too, as one of the two remaining members of team TIES. For the first time since the other two Bad Boys had died, he felt safe. He even, slowly, began to feel a hint of home. But for now, he was returning to Bread Bridge, to collect what little he still had. He wasn’t really paying attention to where he was going as the thoughts swirled in his head, despite being on a rather precarious grid that mingled with the clouds. He finally looked up again and realized he could see the Bad Boy Mansion, and a small, wistful smile crept onto his face. He picked up his pace, not wanting to waste any more of his already limited time. He was turning a corner when his foot suddenly caught on a fraction of a ledge, and he fell forward into the empty air. His limbs flailed for a moment, and somehow he managed to flip in the air, watching as Skynet quickly faded into the clouds. Briefly, he caught a glimpse of a light gray feather fluttering down, and then the wind and his soul was knocked out of him.
secret life:
Grian was breathing heavily, clutching his now broken shield in one hand and his sword in the other. Gem and the Scotts surrounded him, each significantly more wounded than they had been entering the cave. Grian felt a wave of satisfaction wash over him, knowing that at least he was going out swinging. He made one final rush on them, swinging his sword as he dashed past. He couldn’t help but laugh as he did so, the adrenaline on an all time high. They quickly followed, backing Grian into a corner. As Gem raised her sword for the final blow, Grian saw a feather fluttering down behind her. His eyes widened and he opened his mouth to speak, but before he could, Gem’s sword came down in a glimmering arc.
wild life:
Grian watched from a tree with a bemused expression as Joel stormed around the Bamboozlers’ base, killing anything that moved. The wild cards had all been played now, leaving those remaining to cause chaos of their own. For once, it was almost peaceful, the only danger being Joel and the bolts of lightning that struck the ground each time another survivor perished. It didn’t last very long though- Joel had been fighting the bloodlust for weeks, and now that he finally succumbed to it his sword danced with a deadly efficiency and his remorse breached the negatives. Soon, it was only him and Grian left. Joel laughed maniacally as he practically skipped up the mountain, growing closer to Grian with every second that past. Soon, he was at the base of the tree, searching the branches for Grian. At first, he couldn’t find him, leaving Grian to get a single hit in before he was spotted. That brief charade was over as quickly as it began, and Joel swung into the branches, knocking Grian out of the tree in an explosion of feathers. The last thing Grian heard was a faint “Sorry Grian!”, accompanied by a faint image of a feather.