thearena | (no subject)

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(no subject)

Who| Anyone left in the arenas
What| Count down to the finale with your friendly neighbor hood monster.
Where| Both arenas. Starting in desert, ending in candy.
When| Dead of night.
Warnings/Notes| Monster vaguely based on the stories from the Skin Walker Ranch in Utah. Feel free to control the monster as you like. Once it goes through the force fields between arenas, they are now linked as one arena. One sticky, sandy arena. Character can move freely between the two. Be sure to specify where you are in your thread header.

It starts in the desert arena.

The cold blowing wind almost drowns out the foot steps at first, making them easier to dismiss until the are very close to you. Then their booming can't be ignored, close enough it shakes the ground.

The impacts those foot steps make would be much harder to ignore, crushing foliage, and any living things that get in the way, and leaving huge, three toed foot prints that sink down into the ground, leaving impressions several feet deep. The smell is also hard to ignore, rich and sickeningly sweet. Like a dead thing.

But the creature making those sounds can't be seen. Even if it's right above you, you see nothing but the stars glittering over head. By it's feet, it must be huge, it's belly taller then any tributes head, but completely invisible.

When it gets close to you, you can hear the sounds it makes, unnerving high pitched sounds. It's hard to tell, without being able to see the creature, what exactly is making that sound within it. Is it breathing? Is the wind whistling through some strange anatomy? Whatever it is, the louder that sound gets, the faster you should run.

Because it doesn't mind snapping up a few people on it's way across the arena. And even if you can't see them, you can feel it's many, many sharp teeth.

Any tribute unlucky enough to touch it would find it unnaturally warm, with a soft skin that moves under your hand, as if barely containing something wiggling underneath it's surface. It isn't a pleasant feeling, and attacks just seem to sink into it's side. They don't seem to effect the creature at all.

But the behemoth moves forward with a purpose, straight towards the mountain, and the force field shimmering behind it.

And when it it hits that force field, the shimmering surface shudders, and then vanishes into thin air. The sudden change sets the Doki Doki's into a panic. They shriek and attack the creature, and it is happy to snap them up, tearing them (and anything else it catches) to shreds in it's teeth.

And it continues it's move through the arena, slow and destructive, before finally the sound of it's massive foot prints vanishes. Any who go to investigate can see it's tracks leading straight to the force fields on either sides of the arena, but the creature it's self is gone long before dawn.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

She sure didn't regret getting rid of those stars days back; the food, while not exactly a gourmet buffet, was filling. It gave her just enough energy to stumble through melted sugar and globs of liquified gumdrops. The real challenge had been not letting that sickly-sweet scent make her vomit.

She came close. She was just good at keeping stuff down.

Julie was half-caught in a fragmented memory, one of many that had been stalking her through every other hour. There was the hum of their car, Mom in the front seat, and she was fiddling with the radio. Julie demanded it, like she always did -- the two of them looking desperately for that last little grasping hand of civilization. A begging voice or a little off-tuned note sizzling through the speaker.

They found a sound, but it wasn't music, and it was rising and growing until she had to cover her ears to process it. She was tucked against the twisting red trunk of a leafless tree, the peppermint stripes melted all together, her bag between her knees. It rose to a trumpeting scream, right before she was ready to kick the damn radio out of the dash --

Gone. Just like that. Moved past her into the distance. (Moved?) Right. Julie blinked and she was back to pitch-black night.

God, this place sucked. At this point she was pretty much hoping to die soon.

She was tired and sore, hungry. Dehydrated. Ached too much to move. Even that screech wasn't enough to get her running. Julie knocked her head back against the tree, her hair sticking to her neck as well as the trunk itself. With one hand planted against the ground -- barely keeping her balance just sitting -- she felt the first change.

Gritty sand stuck to her fingers. Even if she couldn't see it, she sure as hell felt it. The first sugar-free thing she'd seen in weeks.

Julie, her mom spoke up again. Can you believe that? I haven't heard them in years.

Edited 2013-08-03 05:43 (UTC)

Candy. It feels like forever since Ruby's seen something sweet. It's been all sand and desert plants and of course meat - her cross bow's done her a lot of good when it's come to getting meat.

Now, though – candy. A whole world of candy. It's like she's staring at a mirage; A sticky sweet mirage just waiting to be devoured. With one very tired girl between her and it.

She stepped forward, strips of air dried meat hanging from the rope coils that ha been tied around her waist. The blade of a sycth was tucked into the ropes with them, though the pole itself was still in her arms, along with the crossbow. This girl didn't look like a threat, but she kept her bow up anyway - just in case.

Julie kept listening for something she recognized -- maybe a Lennon lyric she still recognized, or the croon of Sinatra. Why was it she always kept hoping for something that would remind her of some other time? Hard to live in the now, apparently. It did kind of suck.

I won't look twice when the other girls go by. I'll be true to you, yes I will.

Ugh. She groaned and sat up, shaking her head enough to feel her brain rattling around. Probably all dried up along with her stomach. Not one damn kill this whole arena. Just -- easier not to. That was all.

She blinked through the swimming, hovering images to spot the girl. Practically armed to the teeth. Julie still only had her bat, the knife tucked into the bag. Too deep to reach for. She licked her lips, holding her head higher, using the stickiness of the candy tree to stand back up. Ow. God. Cramp.

"You're gonna attract them," she said, vaguely pointing at the meat. Might as well warn her. Not like she'd get close enough to slit her throat or something. Not like she'd even try to.

It's a worse prison than Storybrooke. Candy land, desert - doesn't matter. Except that Snow White is somewhere on the other end of this broken barrier. Her only friend still alive.

Her first thought is they can try. She's been on guard for a long time now, shooting any animal that dares try and take a bite of her. But she shakes her head, and frowns.

"Attract what?"

Okay, she wouldn't slit the girl's throat, but it's tempting. Doesn't even matter what kind of meat that is, it's edible. And it might not poison and kill her.

Though that doesn't sound too bad.

"The... things." She holds one hand a foot about the other. "This big. Evil teddy bear things. They're like piranhas."

And they don't taste too bad. Totally owed that woman from a week back something for showing her the jerky in the first place. Not like she'd thought of eating evil singing teddy bears.

"I'll keep that in mind," she promised, glancing back at the meat. Maybe it was true. Maybe it wasn't. She wasn't entirely sure she cared.

But if she saw Jullie's eyes on the meat, she'd take half of it off and toss it to her. She had plenty. There'd be more left, as aggressive as everything had been.

Okay, that promise sounded awesome, because at least a good ninety percent of Julie's attention was hooked onto that meat. She was hungry. Hungry as hell. Like, pad thai out of the garbage levels. And here she thought the other Tributes had to be doing just as badly as her.

Guess not.

Okay, fuck it. "You got any to spare? I swear I don't usually peddle." Well. No, that was true. Back in the day she'd steal it. Nowadays guess she'd... steal it. But only after waiting for the corpse to fall. "I'm Julie. If that helps sway you." She's not above using potential consciences for a meal at this rate. It's better than aforementioned slitting of the throat.

A promise is a promise - even if it's not one that's been said out loud. In a weird way, the desert's a lot better than candyland for getting viable food... with a lot more chances to find weapons, too.

She took half of it off, tossing it to Julie. "Careful. I um. I hear it's singing bear bait."

Hearing's his second best sense now. Sound and smell and whatever he can bump into close enough to feel. It's what R's reduced to these days now that his eyes are shot. They're this scratched milky color, everything blurs and smears and movement that could be anything at all.

It blows but it's not so bad. He gets used to it.

Eventually R starts to forget having sight at all. For all he knows it's always like this. He knows in the back of his mind, the least decayed, hanging-in-there-but-barely part, that's not the case and he should be more upset. He's lost Wyatt and Max somehow along the way and that, too, should probably be something to start freaking out about. R thinks he was groaning for their names, stopping and listening. Waiting. As usual. Moaning when he bores of groaning. Starting again as he shuffled one foot in front of the other. Then he forgot why he started groaning in the first place. It went down hill from there, reality wise. It's the first time he's hallucinated without breaking someone's skull open.

He thinks he smells Julie.

It's a special scent he'd be embarrassed to admit he could pick out from the other Living, if R was in his right mind. Is he a Boney now? He's got to be close, the closest he's ever been; he should be upset only he's not. He's not even resigned. He's blah.

Julie's smell, though, makes him have second thoughts about it. R's lurch speeds up, his head comes up from where it'd been bobbling along against his chest. It's the one name he's managed to hold on to when the others faded away like everything else. Not yet. Hang on a little longer it says, not so much in words but in something else that makes him perk. He follows it, letting that smell wander across the roof of his mouth and seep into his withered corpse.

A shape swims into view. A tree, maybe. No idea if it's real or not.

"Ju...lie?" It's a miracle and a half he gets that much out, R's cracked, browned mouth having to work at those precious syllables.

Julie, you can't just paint on the walls. For a second, she bet that was the kind of normal complaint people had. Or maybe she really had heard that back when she was a kid. Except Mom kept going: We can't leave traces. You know that.

Only because Dad said so, she'd think. They couldn't do anything because god knew what Grigio said was word and law. That's why they only managed to sneak the radio on when he left for gas. The music attracted them only, like, twice. And Mom would still do it. Still flip through the channels looking for that final breath of life from the speakers --

One of them stands up right in front of the car, scraping the hood. Was it -- did it crawl under when Dad stepped out? How the hell did he not see it? Her mom screams and Julie does too, because the thing's saying her name and that makes it worse. More dangerous.

She scrambles and picks up a bat, her bat, curling stiff fingers around it. She backs up. The car's gone. It didn't matter; they weren't gonna find gas out here anyway. "Get away from me," she says, the bat resting on her shoulder. She blinks, squints, to watch the zombie lurch. It's surrounded by colors so bright they seer her eyes. What a crappy place to hide, huh? Why's she surprised?

Why didn't Dad leave her with a gun?

Hearing her voice spike through the air jerks R upright in surprise. He's heard those words before, so long ago and several human buffets away he's actually surprised he remembers. Definitely Julie. The one and only.

The blur at the base of the tree moves fast, human fast. Something's in her hand - a crowbar or a bat or something that's long and probably has weight in it - and that's when R stops his eager shuffling forward. They've been here before. He didn't say back before. This time he will. R's lurching comes to a stop, his head sagging to the side as he tries to think. Approach this rationally. He can do this. Concentrate. He's still here in this corpse, jerky and all. He hasn't gone Boney yet.

R sucks in another tortured breath, wishing he could see Julie's face aside from a flesh colored smear against the tree. She could probably climb it or lead him on a chase around it - thoughts Perry would've had, if he was alive to look at this situation. Because Julie's Julie, she does neither.

"Not...guh-going to..." R trails off, forgetting himself there. He realizes he's aimlessly groaning and cuts himself off. Not helping. "Please? Wait."

He sways gently where he's stopped, a withered browned husk of his former self. His hair's started to go even more brittle, some of it missing in patches, his eyes a milky white, his teeth almost constantly exposed because his mouth's peeled back from the desert's heat. His reassuring attempt a smile looks like a snarl, a leer. He wouldn't blame Julie if she ran.

She eyes the zombie suspiciously when it actually stops. Maybe it's not used to hearing anything. Words. Bet it's just used to screaming and the wet sound of flesh tearing.

It's bad. She's not usually like this. She tries to... avoid them. She's seen how her dad almost finds a kind of sick joy in taking them out. Not her. She kept wondering -- especially when she was high -- if they thought about anything. Maybe the groans were their own complicated kind of language, like cats. Where every sound meant something different.

Her bat drops a little. Those were words. When she blinks again, it's just the -- shit. Candyland. And this dried out, no-lipped corpse. As far gone as she is, she's not an idiot. There's still that voice. Even if nothing on the outside matches, it's still the same stupid voice.

"R?" There's no clear relief that drops over her. He still tried to eat her. A part of her can't help but wonder if he's back for seconds --

He shouldn't be back at all. "R?" she asks again, dumbly. All that ooze. The poison. Like his blood couldn't stand to be inside of him anymore. She'd left him... weeks ago. Had he dried up in the sun? No way. He'd been dead. Dead-dead. Stiff as a board, not coming up for air.

Running's still a thought. She's probably gonna die, sure, but going down as one of them was the last way she'd want to go out.

She's not running or braining him. It's going pretty well.

"Ghg," R says when he meant a cool "yeah". "Here. I won't..."

He hesitates: won't kill you? Won't be that corpse who goes against his word, the whole "I'll keep you safe" thing? The bat/crowbar/whatever drifts down a few inches, almost reluctantly, and he remembers the last time he saw Julie. Puking up his guts, maybe even literally, and her with that horrified look over him. Touching him like she wanted to book it for the hills because he almost took a chunk out of her calf. At the very best case scenario, she would've turned into something like him even if she got away with a flesh wound.

R's chest tightens even more. The lump of dead meat that used to be his heart quivers, seizes up, and then lapses into silence again. Up comes his hand, browned by the sun instead of his old gray. It's borderline skeletal now, a Boney's claws poking out of a torn, blood-stained shirt that hangs loose on his frame now.

"Won't." He tries to underline and double-underline it for Julie. Imagines a red marker for emphasis.

What he wants to do is stagger over. Hugs are out of the picture and he's not even sure where that urge comes from. Zombies don't hug. Zombies shamble and groan and if they act like they're reaching out for a hug, they're really just trying to grab you. He wants to say this isn't the same. R hopes he's maintaining a good safe distance to make Julie more at ease, wishing all of a sudden he could see again.

Say if she was in her right mind, she would've brained him for saying that. I won't eat you. Fool me fucking once, Mr. Zombie. Fool me once, shame on me.

She wish she could keep pretending she was brave as all hell, but she's not. She's scared to death of him because of what he means. Why was it the world made more sense when death was permanent? Now even the dead can't die, and suddenly here, more than ever, it's like the people who get too close get offed. She still sees Howard's flood of blood from his throat when she closes her eyes. Still sees the same flood from R's mouth.

She misses when people groaned cleanly and collapsed.

"Don't." She outlines it in hot pink highlighter. They can both commit to one-syllable commands if they had to. Her fingers twist on the bat. It's stupid to compare him to weeks ago, but she does. Holding his hand and watching him fold in on himself. Now the thought of those Boney talons brushing her skin makes her shiver in disgust. "You're supposed to be rotting back there. Miles back. I didn't want to leave you and I did because you were dead. What am I supposed to do with that, R?"

Is this how it's going to be between them now? R's shoulders hunch up higher and higher the longer Julie goes on. He can't see her mouth, those eyes of hers that still show joy and hurt and everything in between in a way Perry's couldn't and maybe that makes it worse. All he can do is hear it in her voice. Smell it, too, R wincing at her almost animal fear wafting off Julie. It's like the first time they met. Actually, maybe it's worse; she knows him now. Or she thought she did.

R's torn between regretting he stumbled in this direction and determined to fix it. Somehow. He hasn't figured out anything beyond that because even feeling one way or another about anything is a big step forward.

"I...don't know. Only...forward. Can't...take...back?"

Way to be encouraging, R. Now more than ever he's aware of his grunts and stupid pauses. R's head hangs there like so much dead weight as he struggles to figure out what to do, his mouth working silently through the words before he goes for it.

"Want to...help you. Please." He finishes that off with a rasp clawing its way out of his shriveled chest. R has only a vague idea what he must look like but he imagines it can't be pretty. Between that and the last impression he left on her, they're at rock bottom. It...actually, he thinks it hurts. That's what this is. It's that weird clenching sensation in his chest that he's had before with Wyatt, magnified standing here with only a few yards between him and Julie. Feels more like miles.

Edited 2013-08-09 08:47 (UTC)

She's pretty much not expecting some kind of glorious answer, mostly because her words are spilling out like vomit without much thought behind them. Sure, she's used to the impossible. There's still a limit.

Jesus. The bat drops to the melted candy grass, all of her fight going with her exhale. It's not in her to knock his brains out. Not now.

Says a lot she doesn't completely drop the bat, but. Baby steps. She takes a few towards him, leaving a heavy, weighted couple of feet between them. Not taking chances. She'd trusted him once. Maybe she could do it a second time. Yeah, there's no taking back almost eating her.

"Looks like you need to help yourself before you even try that." She winces to look at him. It's not like bleeding-stump-foot bad. This is worse somehow. Dried, stretched skin. The only thing she usually catches is his eyes, and even those are blown out white, like cataracts have infected him. Clumps of his hair are gone, and she bets he might even feel warm to the touch. Not from life, but from the sun.

At least she's not thinking on how hungry she is anymore.

"What happened to you?"

R watches as the Julie-shaped blob breaks away from the tree - she doesn't let herself get within grabbing distance, sure, but even those few feet closer tell R maybe there's something still here. It's small, but it's something.

"Hot. Dead...suck at..." R trails off, needing to close his eyes and concentrate because he's going for the big guns. It's been awhile. "Tempera-tures."

Of course she'd know that, seeing first hand how well a corpse does in extreme cold: he remembers seeing it through Perry's eyes, leaning over with their hands on the window, the snow drifting down dirty and gray as it dusted the lone zombie who simply...stopped. R shrugs. That should've been him, too. He's not even sure how he's made it this long without starving to a stand-still, pulling whatever was left of his skin off until he went full Boney. What was it? Hope? Julie? Dumb luck? R gives a helpless kind of shrug of his skinny shoulders, the tattered scarf tied around his neck fluttering in that hot excuse for a breeze this desert gets. It's mixed in with the smell of melted peppermint and cotton candy.

That last Arena. Pink all over. A brown river.

R sucks in a breath to speak again.

"What about...you?" He wheezes. In other words, he hoped she didn't kill as many people as he did. With his eyes like this, he can't see how well off she is, if she's hurt - he thinks she has all her arms and legs.

The explanation falls kind of flat. With all the corpses around here -- back there, she has to remind herself -- she should've recognized it. Guess corpses don't get stuck under the sun very often. She'd avoided it herself as much as she could. Not like Dad ever dragged them far west enough to hit a desert.

She looks down at the sand that's started invaded the candy landscape. Getting a little too close there.

Julie looks back up at him. It's probably the first time she's not gonna ride his ass for shrugging. It's about all she feels like doing in return, so she does.

"Watching people kill each other. Starving. It's like another day in my neck of the woods." She leans the bat against her leg after taking another wary step. Julie pulls at his scarf carefully, tugging it up until it haphazardly covers his head. Figures it's too late to do much now. "I guess tossing you some mutant rabbit jerky's not gonna do much, huh?"

R waits for Julie. Waiting isn't the problem. He's had a lifetime of waiting and shuffling and groaning. Waiting for what Julie's going to say next, aching to see her face again instead of a blur, is another thing entirely. The seconds stretch, R shuffling his feet quietly in the sand until she takes in a breath, quiet, and gives him an update. Julie tries to sell it casually, like she's not worried and he shouldn't be either. The sad thing is it does sound like a Day in the Life Of to R - Perry's memories agree. Not enough food, not enough anything to go around. Too many chefs in the kitchen.

He's sorry all over again she's here. She probably would've had a better chance back behind the Wall - at least the survivors in there would've protected her. R gives a slow flinch of surprise at Julie suddenly edges closer to tug on his neck scarf, her blur starting to look people-shaped.

R keeps perfectly still, glad he doesn't need to breathe because even breathing seems like it would be a bad idea.

"Make...do. No...baby-sitting," R finally groans once he feels Julie's hands move away from his head. It's safe. She's safe for now. R's almost blind eyes fix vaguely in her direction. "Find...you food?"

She could have the mutant rabbit. He'd pass, thanks. Find his own food if he had to. She'd probably like the rabbit better than he would anyway.

Julie snorts in a very dignified manner, shoving the end of the bat in the sand so it stands straight. She squats down, the energy drained out of her. Even standing's hard. It sucks. For the last few days, she's been just hoping someone might wander by and off her.

It's probably the most pathetic she's been. That just salts the wound.

"I've babysat before. You're practically a walk in the park." When they didn't have enough survivors to have designated kid watchers. Still impressed her every time she saw a new baby. Drop an apocalypse on humans and they still had kids. It barely even slowed them.

At least they're not trained to kill each other back home -- not, at least, until one of the kids is Dead.

R keeps staring straight ahead, freaking her out when she looks back up. "Down here." So the cataracts aren't just for show. He's blind. And still probably less hungry than her. "The last thing I need is you trying to look after me. I'm fine." Maybe the blind thing isn't so bad. He won't notice she's lost weight and she's all edges now. Or those deep, dark hollows under her eyes. "So you're okay now? No more black leaking out of every orifice?"

Was that a compliment? R can’t tell. He’ll ask later, if he remembers. He follows the sound of her voice as it shifts, getting closer to the ground. It’s not surprising she figures out fast he can barely see here; he might as well be blind. The nice thing is she doesn’t take a shot at his head like another human might. She also doesn’t talk down to him. It’s another one of those Julie things he likes.

R’s nod is earnest, bobbling up and down. “Yeah. Guh-good now. See?”

He gestures at himself with a browned claw. No black puke here. He’s black puke free. Weeks and counting, just don’t ask him exactly how long. The zombie’s hand flops down as he sways under the heat, straining his ruined eyes and thinking – wishful thinking? – the Julie Grigio blur might be slightly sharper at the edges. How has she taken the last couple of weeks? Has she been healthy? Found food? Or has she withered in her own way, like he has? Keep talking, R reminds himself. Keep talking. Communicate like she does.

“We’re…both here. Want to…help.” R’s groan is almost shy. She said she could babysit him but still. “Two…better than…one?”

His counting’s crap but even he can manage one plus one right now. R wants to shuffle forward and plop down in the sand next to Julie, maybe bump shoulders with her. Talk about what happened. Clear the air. With his rate of coherency, that could take forever and then some. R instead chooses to list gently to the side where he’s standing, his arms hanging limp at his sides. He doesn’t want to eat up her time and energy. No asking her to feed him. There had to be a way to help Julie feel safe again…

Edited 2013-09-03 06:59 (UTC)

Julie's now glad he's blind, or nearly there, so he can't see the expression that crosses her face when he says good. Good is about on the opposite end of the scale from where he is right now. It's not even on the same scale. And she misses the weird blue-grey of his eyes. They'd always been weirdly pretty. More fitting on him than some of the other Dead.

Julie likes to think she has a little politeness left in her. Not much, though. So she keeps her mouth shut on the state of... well, both of them. 'Cause it's really just further downhill at this rate.

But her manners don't much interfere with her ability to survive. "Look, R. I don't think you're in any shape to help anyone."

It's shitty to say and she nearly winces after. She knows he tries. And it's not his fault. Blah, blah, blah. Hunger overrides everything. She knows. And yet, it's still personal. It's gonna take time. Time not in a dessert-desert arena. "But I'm not gonna drive you off, either."

It's realistic. She knows what he's thinking -- not safe. Been there, done that. Problem is, neither of them are really raring to go running off alone. She's low on everything, and her only not-potential murderer (well, sort of) isn't much of a hunter of the non-cannibalism sort.

She stands back up, and this time the wince is from pain. She pulls at her back, hefting it onto her bony shoulder. The dagger pokes her in the ribs. "We might as well move. This sand sucks."

He can't help it - R wilts when Julie points out exactly how useful he isn't. His shoulders go limp, his mouth hangs a little more slack before he gulps. The words sting. They're also entirely true. There isn't much a zombie without working eyes can do for a human girl aside from -

Yeah. Not thinking about that. Julie's nowhere close to the menu. He'd say she's never been on it, but what happened (almost happened) at the Cornucopia proved otherwise. He's a lot of making up to do. Julie's right, of course.

R tries to recover, his cracked lips moving like he wants to purse them. With the way they've peeled back from his teeth, it's mostly just a twitch above a skeleton's frozen smile, the parched mouth unable to close all the way. He wants to groan thanks to Julie but all that comes out is:

"Okay. Look for...shelter...?"

There's limited options out here in the desert. R hates how his groan comes out in hesitant spurts, not the decisive sentences he wishes they would - he's not showing good leadership qualities today. At least he had an idea at all. It's a small miracle that he places all the inspiration for on Julie. Hearing her voice shivering up his back, feeling his corpse wishing it could do the impossible. Run. Jump. Grab Julie's warm hand and keep her safe in a way a zombie couldn't. R blew out a sigh. She's still a person-shaped blur. If it wasn't for the smell and the voice, he would've shuffled by her without a second thought.

"Caves and..." What comes next? R's spent more time being taken care of by Ma, having his own Dead needs met, that flipping the tables around is a struggle. R stares blindly in Julie's direction. "...Meat. Rabbits here...you can...eat."

He could find more. Water's a huge issue R doesn't have the mental capacity to worry about right now so he takes the zombie's approach: he stops thinking about it. R shuffles a little bit closer, stops, and then raises his hand to gesture at the big wide world of sand Julie has to look forward to.

Idea man over here. She snorts again, but nods. Forgets for a second. "Yeah." Shelter. Sure. That's gonna do her a lot of good. She's got too many places where the skin is peeling with sunburns, her skin itching and painfully tight. But. Sure. Shelter.

As much like hell as she feels, it'd kind of suck to stifle the zombie's single-minded ideas.

"Rabbits that eat you back." She would've raised her leg, shown him the calves that were torn up with teeth marks, hastily bandaged with some of the ones she'd been gifted way in the beginning. Lucky her, so determined to squirrel away every thing she found. Maybe better he doesn't see. She can feel his overprotective whatever kicking in. Even more goddamn ridiculous with the way he looks.

Julie juggles the idea of taking his hand just so he doesn't wander the wrong direction, but that blackened, clawed thing is too much for her. (God knows he might get the wrong idea.) She even avoids looking at them when he raises it, making her stupidly think of some Disney movie. Everything the light touches. She missed Disneyland in comparison to this crap.

She loops her arm around his once it drops limply. He looks better with the scarf over his head. Closest he'll get to looking better, at any rate. She pulls him, leading by half a step. No way she's gonna get led around by a blind corpse. It's not like R even has a clue where they are.

"I shouldn't ask this." She breaks the silence she felt was about to settle, taking it slow. Funny thing is, she doesn't feel like she even can shuffle faster than a zombie. "But I gotta know. How many have you eaten, R?"

Yeah. Those rabbits. Don’t forget the antlers and the human screams. (R still falls for the screams, every single time).

He’s still bobbing his head in agreement, thinking Julie’s moving closer to him, when she suddenly touches him out of the blue. Actually touches him. On her own. Her arm’s around his, her touch electric because it’s willing and it’s hers and it’s not Maximus or Wyatt discussing battle plans. It’s different. R stiffens in surprise like he’s stepped on a rattler and actually felt it for a change. His lips twitch again. The beginnings of a smile are taken out back and shot when Julie drops her next question in his lap.

“…I think…” He remembers Max’s shoulders squaring, the girl’s screams. Marius. Aunamee’s face mutilated by Wyatt. R wilts all over again next to Julie. “Fff…four?”

Oh, now he’s able to count again. Great timing, R.

He clams up, trying to think of a way to get past the number of people he may or may not have murdered. Technically he didn’t kill three of them personally – he just coasted on someone else’s kills. Cleaned up. Played garbage disposal. But two of them probably would’ve been alive if he hadn’t been with Max. It’s still murder. He still sat there with blood streaming down his chin. R wonders if Julie wants to wander across the desert, arms linked to a Dead boy, after hearing his answer.

He wishes he could see her, awkward conversation or not. The most he gets is her head starts to look more head-shaped at this range and her hair might be tangled, but the most important bits – her eyes, the face, the way she scrunches her mouth when she’s thinking – those he still can’t see. Still a smear. R staggers forward with Julie’s pull, unresisting, happy to follow because it’s instinctive. He’d go wherever she wanted, even if he wasn’t a born-again follower. It feels right. Even when it’s like…this.

Julie nods like it doesn't affect her. She's starting to see the merits of the zombie being blind. She doesn't have to control her face. She's not sure what rages harder -- disgust, maybe, or anger. It's not his fault.

It's really hard to remember that when she's seen so many people torn apart. But he's still a person in there, so.

Says a lot she's even touching him as far as forgiveness goes. Besides, The Games are specifically designed for this kind of thing. From the viewpoint of the audience, isn't he more efficient than her? Better? Because she hasn't bagged one kill and she's still not sure she could hunt anyone down.

"I'm over it, you know. The Cornucopia. I mean, I'm getting there." She's starting to talk, which means she probably won't stop. Not her fault. She's been hiding for weeks and she knows, no matter what, he always seems to listen. Julie was going to try to head towards some remarkably explosive, important moment, but then mid-thought she realizes she really doesn't want to relive almost getting zombified ten minutes into the Arena. "Dad like the desert. It's not my first time through one. He found out the Dead wouldn't wander out after us out there."

She spares him a sideway look, wondering if it means anything to him. The Dead are still as much a mystery as ever. "I'm kind of surprised you're not all..." She raises her arms like claws, groaning. Romero style. The desert ones had been nuts. Barely could catch a one-legged kid, let alone a general and his troupe.

Julie takes it better than last time, but probably it's because he can't see her face. R can only guess from the level (too level?) tone in her voice.

The next things she says gives R real hope maybe they can work past the Cornucopia: she's talking instead of giving short borderline one-word answers, the bare minimum in a conversation because anything more might give a corpse time to get a bite in. She's actually rambling a little now, R relieved because he'll totally take that over the alternative. He even catches himself almost-smiling when Julie busts out her awful zombie impression. And no, it hasn't gotten any better, which is saying something when he's judging from blurs here.

He needs to give her a critique on Proper Zombie Posture sometime. Throw in How to Groan (And Do It Right) for free.

"Wouldn't...know. First big...huh-heat," R says, happy to have an honest to God conversation here. He'd never been in a desert before. Winters were another thing; he's done those. Maybe one day - if there's still those left with Julie and him - he'll tell her about it. R's skinny shoulders rise in a shrug. "Probably...ate...more than...others."

Not the most comforting thing he could admit, but as far as he's concerned, that has to be the only reason he's still staggering around in one piece for a zombie. It'd be so easy to lie down and let the sun bake him into the sand until he's as parched as the watering hole. Now that Julie's here, R's determined not to go like the other Dead she's talking about. R's eyes wander down to their linked arms like they have a mind of their own. With everything blurry, it looks like they've melted together at the elbow.

He's okay with that.

"You...liked desert...too?"

R's slow but for Julie, he'll do his best to keep up. The way she said Dad like she really meant to strike it out and replace it with a stiff "General Grigio". R longs to slide his hands around and entangle his fingers through hers, thread them together so they're not just smearing together in the heat. It's not a good idea. Julie herself even said she basically needed time. R keeps his claws to himself.

Edited 2013-09-06 02:54 (UTC)

She could've really done without that admission. She's taking things in stride, sure, but the girl's got a limit and she's way past where it'd been drawn in the sand. So to speak.

Julie's ignoring a hell of a lot. She ignores how he looks down at their arms like a small miracle is being born between them, though in her opinion that's pretty much the truth. She misses Nora suddenly, a huge ache that tears in her chest. It's stupid to need Nora to tell her what an idiot she's being, because she knows. It might feel better to actually hear it, though.

She snorts. It's becoming a habit. Quick and noncommittal. Like a -- shit. Like a shrug.

"When I say like, I mean he thought it'd keep us alive longer." Her nose wrinkles in irritation, to hide exactly how much she's surprised to miss her dad, too. "Dad doesn't have likes and dislikes like the rest of us humans."

She pauses and chances a glance, realizing that the us had, in the heat of the moment, extended to him. She doesn't follow it up. Old habits. Whatever. "I hate it. Everything's... dead. No life. Just hot, humid silence. I'm not a fan."

While Julie's face is reduced to a flesh-colored smear against the desert, R can hear the tone in her voice take a left turn when she talks about Grigio's Survival 101. So strike off deserts for vacations. The General's right, though. R can say from personal experience now that deserts are a pretty good place to hole up if you want to avoid zombies. Take it from him. At least he can imagine the way Julie probably looks right now. She has a habit of crinkling her nose when she doesn't like something, from a smell to M being M to General Grigio's growing list of Dos and Don'ts for the post-apocalypse.

R isn't sure what to make of that "us" Julie drops. She's mentioned she could almost mistake him for human. After his display at the Cornucopia, and his leather jerky body today, it's doubtful she feels the same way now. Ughhhhhh doesn't even begin to cover it.

"Dull," R chimes up. Despite whatever's between them - or not between them now - they can at least agree on that. "Hot...nothing."

Lame. That's what this is. Lame and stilted. He knows he can groan better. Groping around for more words, R sucks in a breath. Forces it through his lungs. Show Julie he's still himself.

"Should we...turn back...?"

Maybe it's not much better; cold, just as stiff. Business-like. R wishes he could think of something that wasn't functional, if only barely.

It's pretty impossible to mistake R for human. The thing is, it tugs at her -- that he came back. He might've not been looking for her, but he was looking for a second chance. The most human of all things is to err. She's pretty sure that err doesn't extend to almost accidentally eating your friends, though.

Dull. Hot. Nothing. Kind of explains how she feels instead of the desert.

Julie groans herself, lifting her free arm and dropping it more out of exhaustion than the irritation that tackles her. "I don't know, R. I don't have any answers." To her it's either starve in the desert or starve back in Candyland. She's not eating the grass. Tried it. Not a fun time.

Maybe they'll come across the rabbit thing. She's hoping for it. Her frustration isn't with him, but he's a great outlet. It's everything. It mostly stems from the fear she won't survive this arena, either, and it won't be because she got a spear to the gut.

"Let's just keep going. We're already walking." Well, shuffling. It's close enough. "Maybe I'll join you in the cannibalism rung of life if I get hungry enough."

Hearing Julie groan, tired and raspy like her tongue's withered from lack of water, sends an unpleasant sensation jolting across R. He shoots her a look in her general direction like he needs to double check she's not gone zombie too, his teeth exposed in that mummy’s grimace (although he really does mean to grimace this time). He’s used to Julie radiating energy. Now this new Julie Grigio.

R’s already shaking his head. “No. You won’t…be like…me. Not…that food.”

They’ll find something else. She still has a choice and he knows humans, ideally, don’t eat humans. They will if they’re desperate – R’s actually run into that before, back home – but Julie needs to stay Julie. She needs to keep that spark, whatever it is that she still has even while she saw Perry’s slowly fading. He’s sure of that more than anything else wandering around lost in this desert. It’s the first thing R’s been sure of in awhile, piercing the hunger that doesn’t change no matter how hot or cold it gets here.

He falls silent, listening to Julie huffing away next to him as they both drag their feet forward. Plan, plan, he needs a plan for a change.

Nothing surfaces. All he can focus on is the sound of their feet scuffing away at the sand shifting underneath them. Far away, someone screams – a Tribute, maybe, or one of those horned rabbits. R’s head bobs up toward it, then swings toward Julie almost involuntarily. Was it someone she knew? Or just another stranger biting the dust?

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

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Candyland, near broken force field

So. You are totally partially to blame for the fact that I now have a movie-R. ;;

I regret nothing hehe

He's lovesthecure ;;

oh cute c:

He needs people to play with. ;;

we could meme one day! c:

We totally should. ;;

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