(no subject)

[onlyimmune]

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?

Comments

[onlyimmune]

"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?"

[shambler]

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.

[onlyimmune]

"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!"

[shambler]

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?

[onlyimmune]

"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?"

[shambler]

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.

[onlyimmune]

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!.

[shambler]

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.

[onlyimmune]

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."

[shambler]

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.

[onlyimmune]

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?"

[shambler]

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?

[onlyimmune]

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."

[shambler]

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?

[onlyimmune]

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."

[shambler]

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.

[onlyimmune]

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]

R would be grinning if he had the lips and teeth and jaws for it. He's grinning on the inside. His highfive is stiff, cold, and probably gives the heebie-jeebies; for a moment he feels Ellie's body heat fading into his palm and he can imagine maybe he's like her. It passes too soon.

Reaching up, he touches his face, fingers brushing against the shreds of flesh hanging down in bloody curtains, and shrugs. Yeah, not a good look.

He points then at the sky, lowering his hand to mime the sun going down. Time. He's not too worried about stumbling around blind in the dark, but she probably is, right?