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Viewing Single Post From: We All Look So Perfect
MurderWeasel
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I can trick them into thinking anything
[ *  *  *  *  *  *  * ]
((Jewel Evans continued from It Doesn't Matter if We All Die))

Jewel's movements were quick. It had been ten minutes since she'd left the beauty parlor behind her, and Nina inside of it. A lot had happened.

As soon as she'd really gotten moving, they'd beeped her collar. She'd felt like such a moron, because, no shit, she was supposed to be wearing her bandanna and wasn't. This was a great way to get killed; Holly Hadaway had almost proved that last season in about the most retarded way imaginable. So Jewel had sworn under her breath and had crouched down and rummaged through her bag and had pulled it out.

Black. Perfect. Silhouette of a whale, which was less so. Couldn't it be a skull or something badass? But black at least, so it coordinated well with her outfit. She tied it around her upper left arm. Was that the best place? Maybe not. She could change it later. Time to move. She didn't take too long looking through the rest of her bag, because she wasn't in a very good location. No camera angles on her. The discovery of a weapon was a defining moment in the story of any contestant. Some kept the reveal for days. Jewel wasn't that patient.

Already, she had an impression of plastic, and of cloth. The latter would be her costume. She hadn't looked at that too closely, either, though it had started the wheels in her head turning.

She'd taken a look at as much of the area as she could, trying to scope it out. This was a developed season. Good thing, too, with the chill and the snow. They'd've been in real trouble without shelter. She could already foresee avenues of conflict arising from this. Good planning on the part of the producers. She tried not to shiver as the wind chilled her legs.

She'd ducked around the casino, and now she found herself in a wide open space, an expanse of tables and sound equipment, and in the center of it all, a stage. It wasn't sheltered. It didn't matter.

There was only one thing to do.

She moved forward, feet crunching against the frost, leaving prints in her wake. Her wrists were prickling with cold, the dampness of her sleeves seeping into her arm hairs, but that could be dealt with later. The stage would be in good view of the cameras, from multiple angles. Had to be. She'd watched enough seasons to know a hotspot at a glance.

So she kept moving, and she pulled herself up onto the stage. It had snow on it too, and the snow stuck to her tights at the knees. She stumbled a little, scooted towards the center.

What had this been used for? It looked like it could have accommodated bands, perhaps—or, maybe more likely, strippers. She smiled, shrugged. As good a place as any for the performance to begin.

And she laid her bag down and unzipped it for real this time, digging in for something better than that embarrassing false start. At the same time, she kept her ears peeled for anyone coming. Immediate kills were incredibly rare, but not unheard of, and Jewel wasn't going to be anybody's first out.
Current characters:

The Program: V3 Prologue:
Mina Mashall - Digital Voice Recorder - Making a good impression - "I didn't know you felt so strongly about me."
Erik Bell - Jericho .941 - Having lunch - "May I?"

SECOND CHANCES: V2:
Assorted flora and fauna

SOTF-TV V2:
EW4: Jewel Evans - Chatterbox Communicator Headsets (0/5) - Online - ELIMINATED - "Scars are just reminders to be better next time."

Past characters:

If you want an honest assessment of your character's storyline, feel free to PM me and I'll whip one up as soon as I am able.

Thanks to Bear/Frogue/Kotorikun/Ryuki for the avatar art.
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