thearena | (no subject)

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(no subject)

Who| Ellie and OPEN
What| Ellie is just trying to survive but that's kind of hard when you're starving.
Where| Wandering around
When| Catch-all for everything from the cornucopia through the second week.
Warnings/Notes| language, for sure. will update if anything else.

Ellie was starving.

It wasn't the first time she had starved, of course, and it was very unlikely to be the last. It was just the first time she had starved without anything she could really do about it.

She was pretty good with plants - knew better than to eat things she wasn't absolutely sure wasn't poisonous - and she didn't recognize any of the plants. So she'd made do with the rotten apples - digging out the rotten bits with her fingers and eating around the rest. It wasn't good, and she'd thrown up once, but any food was good food, at this point.

It simply wasn't going to last.

So she went hunting.

Not literally, of course. She was armed only with a piece of wood, and she'd done nothing but run from the wildlife and the creepy moving forest. No. She was hunting for supplies. She was hunting for people.

People she could steal from.

No way that could go wrong, right?

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It was only the lack of groaning that didn't send Ellie into an immediate, nightmarish panic. She was very, very accustomed to the sound of a shuffling, groaning infected, had been dreaming about it every time she slept. Kept waking up with a start as they closed in on her.

Alone.

Not for the first time did she wake up with a sharp, intense feeling of loss. But she kept it to herself. Joel wasn't here.

She'd lost everyone. Again.

When she woke this time, to the shuffling, she froze so fast and immediately that she might have been cast in stone - eyes wide open and staring upwards. Once she could pinpoint exactly where the sound was coming from she carefully, and quietly, uncurled herself from her space in the hollow of a tree and looked out.

R.

She recognized him instantly and relaxed slightly. He was still a threat (though she was having a hard time rationalizing that to herself, whatever he warned her), but--

That bag. She sucked in a breath, watching him from behind she couldn't see his missing jaw.

"R?" She called out, softly. Carefully. "R, that you?"

Huh? R hadn't even realized there was someone out there with him, the knots in the tree roots and branches so large and filled with shadow they could easily hold a person, on second thought. It took another moment, too-long for Living standards, for R to consider the voice and realize he recognized it after all. Ellie. The girl with stories of the fungi Infected.

He slowly turned around to face Ellie with the sleeping bag clanking full of cans behind him. The bad news was he had blood still caked on his face. The good news was it was all his, black and almost like drying tar in consistency. A hole gaped where there should've been a jaw and a chin with only a few strings of withered flesh hanging down. It was the kind of wound that should've bled out one of her Infected.

"Rggh," R said. Tried to say. More like he forced the sound out the back of his throat. Don't even ask him what he was trying to say at this point, because he had no idea either.

He stayed where he'd stopped, the vines already starting to inch around his ankles now that he'd stop moving, staring right at Ellie and wondering what one Dead boy could do for her today.

She was relieved to see him, in all truth, even without the muzzle. A friendly infected face was still a friendly face, in a place where the plants were trying to kill you.

That was, of course, until she saw his face.

"Oh holy fuck--" She said, staggering backwards as she saw the gaping maw where his jaw had been. Then she was rushing forward. "Oh fuck, R, what the hell happened to you?"

She didn't even notice the vines around his ankles - a little too distracted by the massive facial damage.

R's eyes widen above the bloody mess that used to be his mouth as she reacted like any sane person would: her face colored with holy shit! and she takes a few involuntarily steps backward. He expected her to turn tail.

Ellie approached him instead. She was...worried?

Long story. R's hand came up, gave a vague gesture at his face (what was left of it, basically), then pointed at Ellie. Human...Did...This. Realizing it might look like he was accusing a girl he hadn't seen since the Capitol, R adjusted it to about Perry Kelvin's height. There. He felt satisfied with his explanation. Wheezing a wordless sound, R's hand dropped to his side.

Ellie looked like she wasn't doing too bad, which wasn't surprising. She did say she was used to surviving, after all, and while she had mud and some twigs stuck in her hair, behind the grime she looked healthier than Shion had.

R pointed at the piece of wood she had in her hand, curiosity overtaking him. The question-mark was practically glowing over his head.

She really couldn't understand the vague hand gestures very well but she could tell he was trying to tell her something, which at least meant that he was aware enough to be able to want to talk to her.

Not that he was really that much of a threat anymore. Kind of needed your whole jaw to do the whole biting people thing.

That didn't meant that she got close enough to be in grabbing reach. "Fuck. Fuck." She can almost feel the sympathy pain, and then she noticed that he was pointing. She looked down at her hand, and then raised the piece of wood. "Uh-- From a crate. Tried to get some food and didn't uh... didn't go so well." A pause, and then, "But don't go changing the subject! Are you even fucking okay?"

R shrugged at her question. It radiated an attitude of "meh, I'll live". How he planned to continue without starving was another thing entirely. The one plus was it was unlikely he could kill anyone without his jaws, so. Yeah.

He could see this non-verbal communication thing wasn't working out as well as he hoped it would. It gave a new perspective to how it must've felt to be someone like Punchy, robbed of his voice, even more trapped with no outlet, no way to connect. Realizing he was starting to drift into that depressing rut, R pointed again at his mouth, shreds and all, then at Ellie, then back at himself, and then shook his head. Can't...eat. Safe. She'd probably already figured out he wasn't likely to jump her, but maybe it'd help if he reassured her.

R then shrugged again. He touched the shreds of flesh hanging down from his mouth, his hand moving to his still heart. Didn't hurt, see? He was good...except he could feel more than see the maggot that'd been camping in his jaw sliding out. Before he could stop it, it slithered out and plopped to the ground between them.

He stared at it, torn between feeling helpless and just downright embarrassed. Come on!

"Can't eat, huh..." That one, she got, and she actually felt sorry for him. Despite, you know, being the food source in question.

Then, however, a maggot fell out of his face. Onto the ground. In front of him.

"Oh god that is fucking gross, R!" She said, though she was trying to keep her voice down. It was a little difficult, since... yeah. Come on. Really? She made a face and then stepped over to kick the maggot away, staring up into his open jaw.

"So, so fucking gross. Do you have anything fucking else up there?"

Tell him about it! R's horrified. If he could claw aside the warm dirt and dig his own grave, he'd jump right in feet first. This must be what dying of embarrassment feels like. He'd forgotten. There wasn't a lot of room to feel humiliated surrounded by other zombies: a lot of the others had it way worse when they were dropping body parts mid-groan.

The maggot went flying into the underbrush, R's eyes following its trajectory. When shifted back to Ellie, he saw she was staring him right in the face. Or, uh, half his face.

R shook his head, the chunks of flesh jiggling (at least he didn't splatter her with blood). He was sure after the maggot that rank, cold blood hitting Ellie smack in the face would've turned her right around. As far as he knew, that was the only maggot in his face. The others were worming their way around his corpse - they hadn't been as adventurous.

He pointed at his stomach, then at Ellie's face. He raised an eyebrow. Was she hungry? Was there anything he could do to help?

"So gross," She whispered again but pulled back when she was satisfied that another fucking maggot wasn't about to fall out of his face.

She watched him gesture, frowning, and then got it.

"Stomach-- Oh! Hungry? Yeah. Yeah I am fucking starving. You got any food in that bag of yours?"

R tried not to take it too personally. He'd definitely had his better days.

Exchanging a last look in Ellie's direction, R unclenched his fingers from around their death grip on the ratty sleeping bag, his joints creaking in protest. It was shaky going trying to work the zipper with the way his fingers kept slipping and sliding. Eventually he got it. A can of beans rolled out as he stood back up, bumping up against Ellie's foot like a gift from whatever God thought throwing a killer strain of fungus as also a good idea.

"Oh man," elite says as the can rolls toward her. It taps against her foot and she reaches down to grab it. When she stands back upright she is grinning like it is Christmas, all maggot transgressions forgotten.

"Thanks R! You're the fucking best!"

Ugh, he really wishes he had teeth to smile with. R settles for quirking an eyebrow and knowing that's as good as it gets.

"Gkg!"

He decides by now it's probably safe enough to wobble over. He reaches out, trying to telegraph his movements as much as possible so she won't think he's getting funny ideas, and lightly taps the can, then cocks his head, the giblets of what used to be half his face swinging.

How's she planning to open it?

"Uh.... good point," She says, takiing his meaning easily enough, strangely relaxed despite the fact he had no muzzle and couldn't speak. (The lack of ability to bite her probably helped.)

"I need a knife or something. Or a sharp rock." She looked at him. "I suppose it would be too much to hope that you have one, huh?"

The mute look he shoots her says all it needs to. Does he look like a corpse with a plan, Ellie? Still, R likes to think he can do something besides shuffling and eating and this right here? Totally his chance. Mouth or no mouth, he's got this. R turns and shuffles off, his eyes on the ground. It's easy to follow where he's going because he makes no attempt to soften his footsteps or stop rattling every branch that scratches against his face and chest.

When he comes back, he has a rock about the size of his fist dripping mud. Ants crawl over it. One end, though, is sharp enough to mean business.

He holds it out to Ellie.

Ants were nothing, after starvation and zombies, so Ellie didn't even hesitate to reach out and grab it, still grinning at him.

"Damn, thanks!" She said, pulling out the edge of her shirt to wipe the rock off. "Come on, let's find somewhere we can wedge the tin in!"

She takes off, expecting him to follow, until she finds a tree with a split trunk that she will hold the can securely until she can bash the sharp end of the rock into the top.

"Stand back," She warns him, raising the rock high above her head, before bringing it back down with a sharp crack!.

Jesus, he wishes so badly he could just - just smile! It's not like he can't feel what's left of his face giving it a shot. R's aware of his cheeks trying to pull at a mouth that isn't there as he lurches after Ellie. Seems like it takes awhile to find a trunk she likes, her zombie buddy lagging further and further behind until he's tracking her more by life-smell and her footsteps. By the time he arrives, she's already got the can at the ready.

He stops at what he assumes is a good distance away, leaning forward: it's the closest thing to a zombie perking up and standing at attention as he can manage. Even his shoulders are less hunched.

He flinches at the loud sound bouncing off the trees only to be swallowed up by the jungle's humidity. A cloud of gnats buzz Ellie. R can only imagine what this jungle must feel like to someone like her.

She waves an irritated arm at the swarm, but all of her focus is on that can of beans - which now has a small, but very real, hole right through the top of the tin.

"Yessss," She cheers quietly under her breath as she pockets the rock (hey it was useful) and grabs the tin to take it back towards R. She raises it to her lips, tilts her head back, and half eats/half drinks the beans that pour into her mouth.

She doesn't eat a lot of it, and she doesn't eat it quickly - first rule of starving - but she gets a good gulp.

"Oh man, R, you probably saved my fucking life."

If it was down to it, he'd love to save people's lives instead of taking them. Maybe it's starts one person at a time: Julie. Ellie. But for all the Julies and Ellies, there's also the Howards, the ones who end up too close to a zombie and pay the price. Food for thought.

Despite his mangled face, R's somehow radiating a pleased air at her approval. He assumes they taste pretty good. He's surprised when she rations it out, though, because he's hard-wired by death to eat and keep eating.

Does she need more? Or is it water now? Humans fluctuate. It's not just flesh-stumble-flesh. R's steel-grey eyes fix on Ellie as he puzzles out how to ask. Finally he settles for staring pointedly at the can, then at her face, then back at the can.

She notices that he's flumoxed (it's the eyebrows) before he even starts making pointed stares, but it takes those to help her figure out why. Then she looks down at the can in her hand before looking back up at him.

"Don't want to make myself sick," She explained easily. "Infected don't really get sick so you wouldn't really remember, I guess, but... I haven't exactly had a lot to eat. If I gulp it all down, I'm just going to throw it all up again, you know?"

Oh, so that's the deal. Makes sense. R would point out if he could that the Dead could get sick - eat enough non-human flesh and you just threw it back up and wandered on with your life reeking even worse than usual until it eventually washed off when it rained. He hadn't liked that much. Ruined his clothes. He'd stopped trying to eat wolf and deer a long time ago, probably faster than most other zombies. It's weirdly comforting to know they both don't care for puking their guts up. It's the little things you find to connect over, in his experience.

R wheezes out a sound that might've sounded like "blegh!" if he'd had a full mouth. It's surprising close.

He pats his pocket, then gestures at the can. How long can she save it? Will she keep it close to her heart?

She can't help but make a funny face when the strange noise comes out of his mouth.

"Yeah. Bleuugh indeed," She says with a little grin. Then her brows furrow as he moves, obviously trying to ask something - (and she's getting better, she thinks, at deciphering what he's trying to say).

"Uh..." Wow okay, so sometimes charades with a zombie is difficult. "I should put it in my pocket? Yeah I probably will, but I kind of destroyed the lid so I'll have to be pretty careful with it."

Edited (i can spell) 2013-11-24 17:27 (UTC)

Somehow it's working! By zombie standards it's a full-blown conversation: between Dead, a groan or a lurched shoulder could count as "hey" or "get out of my way" (bit hazy one which one's which).

Nodding, he pictures the smile in his eyes that can't make it to his mouth. Ellie continues to surprise him, from the matter-of-fact way she talks about saving what little food she has, like a true survivor, to the way she looks at him as a person. She meets his eyes instead of staring at his mouth. Maybe they're friends.

R reached out to tear at his sleeve. It was sorta-kinda clean. Ripping a strip of it off, he held it out to Ellie. Maybe it'll help?

She blinks at him, and then slowly reached out, taking the strip. She ate a few more of the beans and then carefully folded the cloth and stuck it into the opening, before stashing the can away in one of her pockets.

"You're pretty smart, you know," She says amiably as she turns to smile at him. "You scared the shit out of me when we first met, but I really owe you one, R."

It probably helped they hadn't met in the Arena because he's sure she wouldn't have such a sunny impression of him. R met her smile with more of that Dead, flat-gray stare of his. Smart. She actually thinks he's smart despite his muteness and the zombie thing.

He reaches out toward Ellie, hand up, palm up, exposed; trying to portray that he understands.

She tilts her head and then laughs. She thinks she knows what that might mean.

So she reaches out and giving him a good, hard, hi-five.

"Though god, man, do you need a face lift."

Yikes, sorry! Didn't get the notif, I think

shambler - 2013-12-04 10:06 (UTC) - Expand

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