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WHO| Aunamee, Grey, Hyperion, R.
WHAT| Grey isn't fatally wounded, but Aunamee leaves him for dead anyway.
WHERE| Fantasyland
WHEN| End of week 2.
WARNINGS/NOTES| death, violence, sadism
When he was twelve years old, Aunamee would sit with a police blotter pressed up against his ear, the volume whisper-soft so that it could be his little secret. These were the days when his name was Ariel, when he was mortal and helpless and saw nothing when he closed his eyes. Whenever he heard about a car accident, a suicide, a murder, he would get his bike out from the garage and peddle down to the scence, his shoelaces click clicking against the cold metal of the frame. Let’s watch this. Let’s see life in action.
As an adult, things were very much the same. Aunamee harmed and Aunamee killed, but he preferred it when he could sit back and watch everything unfold, a spectator in a wild orchestra of flesh and blood.
He told Grey he was giving him a reprieve. He cut his binds. He left him out in the open, bruised and beaten, and then he stepped backwards and out of sight, cloaked in ruins.
Let’s watch this. Let’s see life in action.
WHAT| Grey isn't fatally wounded, but Aunamee leaves him for dead anyway.
WHERE| Fantasyland
WHEN| End of week 2.
WARNINGS/NOTES| death, violence, sadism
When he was twelve years old, Aunamee would sit with a police blotter pressed up against his ear, the volume whisper-soft so that it could be his little secret. These were the days when his name was Ariel, when he was mortal and helpless and saw nothing when he closed his eyes. Whenever he heard about a car accident, a suicide, a murder, he would get his bike out from the garage and peddle down to the scence, his shoelaces click clicking against the cold metal of the frame. Let’s watch this. Let’s see life in action.
As an adult, things were very much the same. Aunamee harmed and Aunamee killed, but he preferred it when he could sit back and watch everything unfold, a spectator in a wild orchestra of flesh and blood.
He told Grey he was giving him a reprieve. He cut his binds. He left him out in the open, bruised and beaten, and then he stepped backwards and out of sight, cloaked in ruins.
Let’s watch this. Let’s see life in action.
for R, aunamee, grey
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His stomach shrivels in on itself. He imagines he can feel it turning to dust on him. (He hopes he doesn't have maggots).
R wanders away from the Feast at some point; he's not sure exactly when. Story of his life. Eventually he ends up in what used to be Fantasyland. All he gets it the vague sense he's been here before, a long time ago - he should recognize the place, the broken down rides, all the other stuff that blurs together the more he tries to stare at them. After awhile R shrugs and moves on, goes back to shuffling because it's like busy work for corpses. Focusing on something like walking gives him something to do.
It's the sound of something scrapping to the left that draws R away from the main road, snaps him back to the present, his head coming up and turning. His good eye refocuses. He listens, swaying, and yup, that doesn't sound like a rat to him. Sounds bigger. Hopefully it's still there by the time he gets his shambling act into gear.
R eventually lurches into sight of the stage and what he sees makes him start to think today is shaping up better than yesterday. There's a man lying there, not moving fast like all the others and that's already a good sign. Slow and easy - way better odds to a zombie who couldn't even take down a little girl. He gurgles in his chest as he starts to come closer to investigate.
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He doesn't rush into it, doesn't scurry over in a panic, but instead crosses diagonally between R and Grey, closing the distance in calm, even strides. He was afraid of R when he first met him, afraid and uncomfortable because here was someone who should be dead but wasn't dead, here was someone who defied all the rules that Aunamee knew and mocked him with uncertainty, but he grew to appreciate this strange boy. So earnest. So malleable.
And now he can read his thoughts.
It's an interesting sensation, listening to someone who isn't really alive and isn't really dead. It reminds him of the ocean, almost, how the thoughts slowly ease in and out of his mind like pebbles caught up in the tide.
"R," he says, smooth and easy. He approaches without hesitation. Without fear. "Shhh." Gentle and soft like a father. "It's all right."
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Why would Aunamee keep him alive? Why would Aunamee protect him from this atrocity? He had a feeling that he didn't want to find out. But there's no running, not now. Not with broken ribs and a concussion that threatens to send him back into darkness at the slightest disturbance. He puts his head back down against the floor and breathes.
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He thinks he knows this man.
He thinks maybe it’ll be okay.
R stands there and lets Aunamee get closer, his good eye fixed on him, the other off doing its own thing in his shattered eye socket. The Living man gets so close R starts to think maybe he’d feel even better if he was elbow deep in his ribcage and sampling, say, his lungs. (M’s more the liver type of zombie, if they can’t go for brains). The thought wanders away before it gets very far, something smoothing it down. Maybe not. Maybe he’s just fine the way he is. It’s not a bad place to be when you’re a corpse. R sways as his mouth opens and closes wordlessly, struggling to remember how to form sentences so he can ask Aunamee how he’s so dead sure everything will be a-okay in the end.
“Ghhguh…?” R moans.
His eye roves from Aunamee to slide over his shoulder toward the other man. Another glob of ooze drips out. What about his lungs?
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It is so nice to be on someone's mind.
"You're not yourself, R," he says, feigning a quiet concern. He cocks his head. "You're missing something."
He extends a leg and gives Grey's shoulder a light prod before retreating it.
"Do you think this one is the answer?"
And then, smoother, the innuendo slipping away:
"Do you want to eat him alive?"
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He can see now. See both threats. As much as his shaky vision will allow, at any rate. Planting his left forearm against the ground, he starts to lift himself. If he has anything going for him, the boy appears to move rather slowly.
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He knew he liked Aunamee for a reason. He’s mindful of others.
“…I...wuhhhhnnt….” R wants to say hell yeah, promise he’ll make it quick (true) or he won’t be messy (white lie – he means to, it just never happens), but he’s too hungry for a conversation right now. Too much effort.
His teeth click together as his mouth continues that almost fish-like opening and closing, as if he’s already picturing himself gnawing through Main Course’s lungs. The guy looks like he’s beat up pretty bad, tenderized. Maybe “pulverized” is the better word. R almost, almost feels like he’d be doing him a favor ripping open his skull. Maybe that’s what he’ll tell himself to feel less guilty when he murders him: all these years and he still has trouble looking the people he eats in the eye. Sometimes it’s because another zombie’s already chewed off their face and he has an excuse when the eyes and nose are only bloody pulp. Other times, he doesn’t, and it’s all on him.
The new hunger shrugs.
R tries to totter past Aunamee, close enough to bump against the man, attracted by that little sound of pain breathed out behind him. Seeing the main course trying to crawl away, corpse-slow, gives R purpose.
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The eagerness, the naivety, the willingness to please and bend are all important, yes, but Aunamee cares most about the people who are only parts of a whole, people who once had something but now don’t. It is why he likes Howard, and it is why — when he peers into R’s not-quite mind and soaks in his memories — he’s so pleased that the two of them already know each other.
As R pushes past him, he curls up a hand to rest on his shoulder.
“I want the best for you,” he croons. His fingers slide from R’s shoulder and he extends his index finger into a point. Look. Over there.
“There’s better elsewhere.”
He jerks his index finger forward. A more dramatic point. A less subtle gesture.
"Over there."
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The zombie turns, slack-jawed, to stare at Aunamee. Yeah...yeah, he helped him out before, right? Had his best interests at heart because his still works. Maybe he's right about this too.
R obediently shifts to look at where he's being pointed.
"There." R grunts and then starts to lurch that way. "O...kay."