And the death knell tolls once more.

[gardienne]

Who: Eponine and open
Her death thread is closed to R

What: Eponine has gone exploring in one of the houses in town. R is eventually going to eat her. Before that, she's hunting for food and weapons.

Where: In the living room of a house in town.

When: Week 2, at night.

Warnings: R is going to eat her, so warnings galore for that. Otherwise, I suppose, bad language, and any you should like to add yourself.


Eponine had left Orc and Diana for a while. She had been awake most of the past few nights, thinking. Thinking was always somewhat dangerous. She couldn't help it though. She rolled over in the sleeping bag she had been sent and she sobbed for what had happened all that time ago in Paris, and for the murders she had committed in the arena, and yes, for her father too, stabbed to death in her bedroom and hidden in the Capitol. She couldn't stop thinking about what had happened, couldn't stop replaying it in her mind over and over until she thought she could scream through her pain and her fear.

But no she couldn't, because then Orc and Diana would want to know why she was upset, and the Capitol would soon get wind of it if they did not already know and then she would be in more trouble than ever.

She brushed her fingers over the heavy Capitol cuff that was still fastened tightly to her wrist. She would be in a lot of trouble. Perhaps she deserved execution. Perhaps dying over and over in the arena was enough to even it out?

She struggled out of her sleeping bag: she could not sleep and she didn't want to think any longer. She didn't want to be tempted to tell Orc. She couldn't risk getting in trouble.

So she walked away. She packed up her bits, her torch and her sleeping bag, and her bits of food, and started to walk. Silly tasks to keep her mind busy. That's what she needed. She'd find food and weapons for the three of them to have spare.

She chose the house at random, and went in, checking the rooms for Tributes. It seemed to be empty though. Her next plan was to raid the fridge, to gather as many tins and bits of water or juice together in the bottom of her sleeping bag, just in case she had to run. Then it was weapons. A rusty knife joined the scissors tucked into her waistband, and mouldy beeswax ended up in her sleeping bag.

She moved into the lounge, exploring the unfamiliar looking technology with the aid of her torch. She didn't really know what the gramophone was used for, but she did know that it was sharp and pointy.

She was trying to tug the arm free when she heard a noise, and she turned back to the pitch black of the doorway.

"Who's there? I'm... I have a knife. Do not make me kill you." She tried to sound as determined and as threatening as possible.

Comments

Closed to R

[gardienne]

Eponine had moved back to the kitchen for now. She was hungry and trying to get one of the old cans of peaches open with her rusty knife. Eventually done with only minimal cuts to her fingers, she tucked in, fishing out the peaches with her fingers. No matter if they tasted a bit funny. They filled a gap, and that was all she cared about.

She wasn't particularly paying attention to what was going on around her. She was beyond caring now. What did it matter?

She sat in the pitch black of the kitchen, steadily munching her peaches, lost once more in the thoughts of her father. She didn't even hear him lurch in.

[shambler]

The hunger comes back, like it always does. It's not so much an old friend as someone who won't leave no matter how much R wishes he could slam the door in its face. It pervades every rotting fiber of his being, pulling his arm up in that classic zombie gesture, his mouth working up black drool to make the act of biting and ripping easier.

He follows that sixth sense he's developed since he woke up a corpse, stumbling after an invisible trail pointing Eponine's way. R's boot kicks up against the entry, scuffing across tiles and leaves scattered across the kitchen. He doesn't need to see very well to zero in on that glowing, Living outline.

With a growl, R lunges at her with his good arm outstretched. His other arm, missing at the elbow, waves uselessly like he's grabbing her with the amputated hand.

[gardienne]

Eponine screams when she hears that growl - she recognises it, of course, as R. But he does not sound like he's come for a chat. No - he sounds like he did in the desert. He sounds hungry.

She hits the floor immediately, crouching under the table. She's shaking. She cannot stand it if it happens again - oh God, not again. Perhaps if she stays still and absolutely silent, R will think he's killed her already and leave. If not, she'll beg. She can't die like this again. Not now.

Quickly, silently, she pulls her scissors free from her waistband. If she killed her dad with a letter opener, she can kill a zombie with scissors... right?

[shambler]

The scream only jolts R into a frenzy, the zombie stumbling forward at something that might've almost looked like a drunk's run before he eats pavement. He follows Eponine's voice just as much as he follows her smell, smacking into the table hard enough to jolt it across the floor. His fingers scrabble across the wood.

He groans, drool dripping to splatter against the table, as he registers that Eponine's not where he was grabbing but she must be close by. R staggers around the table in an urgent circle, blocking Eponine from that clear run to the door.

To make it worse, he stops instead of circling around again, his moan turning almost confused. She has a clear shot of his legs and, behind that, the open door he'd come stumbling through.

[gardienne]

She screams again as the table goes flying. Eponine's left crouched on the floor, her arm, injured from the fight with her dad before the arena, pulled right into her chest. She crawls back beneath the vague safety of the wood, listening intently to R's footsteps, trying to place him in the room to judge when might be best to run for it.

But he blocks her, and she waits, watching his calves and his feet. He's just standing. If she rushes at him, and knocks him over, she can escape.

So she does. Putting as much strength as she can into it, she pushes herself from beneath the table, leaping up and forward to try to hit R in the knees. And then she runs as fast as she can without looking back.

[shambler]

It's the fastest R's reacted, bordering on humanly fast instead of his usual slow stumbles and slurring. He inhales that electric Living scent suddenly in his face as he lurches forward, his one good hand grabbing. His fingers brush through her hair and tangle in the thick hoodie of her sweater. It's not quite the same as getting a good fistful of hair but it doesn't matter: he simply reacts. Jerks toward him.

It's one of those timeless zombie things. He's never met a zombie who didn't grab and pull toward the mouth. It's like Corpse 101.

R's mouth gapes open wide as he sinks his teeth into Eponine's shoulder, trying to work his way past the windbreaker and thick woven material of the sweater. An animal whine works its way out of his throat, gurgling and raspy and urgent.

[gardienne]

She screams hard when she feels R's hand on the bristles of her head, and clamping down on her sweatshirt. NO - NO! This cannot - WILL NOT - happen again.

"R. R! It's me - it's Eponine. R, I am telling you, don't eat me. Don't -" She screams again as she's pulled up to him. Oh god, she can smell the rotting flesh. The stench oozes out of his mouth, so strong that she could be sick. But she's too scared to be concentrating on that. She tries her best to jerk away from his mouth, from his clutch, pulling this way and that and twisting and hitting out and kicking.

"R, stop it! We're - we're friends. You can't eat me. Oh God, not again. Please - please don't eat me. R, Stop it. I beg you. Come on - please, Monsieur."

[iphigeneia]

Felicity did not have a knife to guard herself with, but what she lacked in weaponry she made up for in her belief that Eponine would not turn her away. Not now. Not after the pact they'd made together. They were friendly now. They could rely upon each other for help.

That said, she hadn't especially sought out Eponine in the arena. She'd mostly kept to herself, mostly tried to stay away from the other tributes to avoid trouble. She'd bide her time, keep a low profile, then surprise them all when her time came. She was determined not to mess up. It wouldn't be like last time.

But seeing Eponine sneaking into the house gave her another idea. They were friends. It wouldn't hurt to be friendly. Quietly, she'd followed the other girl inside, creeping on her toes until Eponine finally noticed her.

"Don't be ridiculous." Felicity scoffed, appearing in the doorway very purposefully, looking proud as a queen. She had a part to play, now that the two of them would have a scene together. "You'll do nothing of the sort."

[gardienne]

"Will I not, Mademoiselle?" Eponine grinned. She did let go of the gramaphone , though. Truth be told, she was so relieved that she would not have to fight.

She curtseyed low to Felicity - too low for the humility to be truly meant, and then she laughed.

"You follow me , Felicity? You think - 'ah, she knows to live in unfriendly cities', huh ? Well, perhaps yes and maybe no. Have you been hurt?"

She has: her right arm is a mess of bandages made of her bedsheets, and crude stitches from the Avoxes. Her dad had aimed for her face; she had made sure he got her arm.

[iphigeneia]

Felicity did not return Eponine's curtsey, instead she grasped onto Eponine's uninjured arm. "I am fine, Eponine. I am quite merry in fact, now that I have found you. Tell me, what do you make of this arena? I think I rather like it better than the last one. There is more chance to stretch one's legs in this place than in the last. And the weather almost feels refreshing. It isn't stuffy or stale, as the other one was."

Raising a brow, she reaches for Eponine's bandaged arm. "What have we here? Who did all that?"

[gardienne]

"Please - no, Felicity." Eponine snatches her arm back from out of Felicity's reach. It's sore - and the smell that's coming from beneath the bandages indicates that it's not entirely healthy.

"This is an old cut - from the Capitol. But you see, they like me to die. They like me to have pain and die quickly. It is nothing." She doesn't want to talk about her dad. Not here, not on camera. She tries to sound as offhand as she possibly can, but is betrayed, perhaps, by the slight tremble to her voice.

"The arena - yes! I had never been to a museum, you know? They're not for us in Paris, of course. It was good to see such things - but a town is better to hide in. There are more places to run, you know?"

[iphigeneia]

The blonde's gaze faltered a bit, betraying a look of concern she generally reserved for... well, no one except herself. "You must let me look at it at least. I've supplies and things to clean it with." Obviously she would not take no for an answer. Not just yet, anyway.

"You must let me tend to it and you must tell me all about the good hiding places you've found. It will be a deal, you see? We'll be even this way." Felicity was already opening up her small satchel to retrieve the first aid kit which had been parachuted in to her the week before.

[gardienne]

Eponine glared at Felicity as she made her bargain, but she sighed as well. "Fine." It wasn't really fine, though. She didn't want to show it, but she used her scissors to undo the top of the bandage, just as she had used them to slit her sleeves cuff to elbow to stop the bandage rubbing. The wound is an ugly gash, deep particularly near her elbow. It's been stitched hastily with black thread by an Avox, causing an ugly zig zag. The skin's a mottled bruise, and dried blood lines the wound. Eponine grits her teeth as she pulls the bandage away. The bits of pus leaking from it don't look brilliant. "My Papa's handiwork, Madame." She tries to laugh it off, but her cackle sounds hollow even to her.

[shenunigans]

It's already been an exhilarating little introduction to Arenas for Dave. Being chased by monster sized trolls kind of inspires that dwindling fear for your life that fizzles when you gain immortality. He isn't immortal here, he isn't a time traveler here. He's back to square one, pass go, do not collect two hundred dollars.

His lungs are burning by the time he's found the house. He's sure he'd lost track of the wannabe hulk when he'd slipped through crevice after crevice. He hadn't seen anyone else around here, so he's hoping he can just walk into one of these places and just hide under a bed for a while to be sure. There's a worry that he might walk into a house full of murderous assholes, but his desire to get off the streets overrides it.

He isn't even in the place long before he hears a voice, his blood running cold all over again as he curses softly under his breath. "Fuck- uh. Don't kill me, I'm unarmed." Wait, should he be telling them that? "I mean, I am armed. I have two. And weapons, lots of them. But I won't hurt you, I was just looking for a place to be super quiet in." Because that's a perfectly normal thing to want. "I can go if I'm harshing your buzz or something."

[gardienne]

Eponine laughs suddenly.

"Monsieur, if you are to survive at all, you must learn to lie better than that. You cannot say you have no weapons and lots of weapons then, and a place to be quiet. Such things are not together in the arenas."

She moves closer, pulling her scissors out from the waistband of her trousers.

"Who are you? I don't know you at all. Do you have anything? Food? Chocolate?" That last one is a bit of a desperate hope, but it's worth a try, right?"

[shenunigans]

The laugh is almost as startling as the initial encounter had been. Dave's brows shoot up, but he calms quickly. She's laughing, it's all good, he better laugh too. Awkwardly.

"Thanks for the tip, I'll keep that in mind." He gives his shoulders a small shrug- but then she's approaching and pulling those scissors out and he's wondering if he made the right choice letting himself calm down a little.

"I- what? No." He starts, but he stumbles over his words at the last question. "I'm Dave, Strider. I came here a month or so ago, I think." He takes a small step back. "I got bupkis, sorry. If I had chocolate you'd be the first to know."

[gardienne]

"Yeah?" She stops short, dropping the scissors. "I hope you mean that, Monsieur Strider, for I love chocolate. I had never had it before I came here, you know? I had seen it in the shops, but it ain't for me. Well, it weren't. And now, yes. But not in the arenas - oh, and Sir, I am hungry for something sweet." She grins: in the dark, it might be a bit difficult for Dave to see that she's missing quite a few of her teeth now that she's been stripped of her Capitol-issue flipper.

"What is bu- budkist?" She stumbles over the unfamiliar word.

[shenunigans]

Dave can feel himself relax when she drops the scissors, even if his heart is still a little fluttery from the chase. It gives him the ease of mind to focus on other things, like the fact that Eponine is pretty damn cute. This might be a murder festival, but he's a pretty typical sixteen year old boy.

He can't help chuckling at the way she talks about chocolate, it's a little bit awkward and a little bit genuinely amusing. "I'm sorry for your loss, then. Chocolate should be a basic human right, it's hella tasty." He moves his arms to fold his arms over his chest as casually as he can, though it's partly because he's a little cold. In the darkness, it's hard to see those missing teeth, but his first assumption would be that she's tough as hell and he shouldn't fuck with her.

"Oh- it means nothing. Nothing at all. It's Jewish, I think." Yiddish, more like. But he doesn't know that. The fact that she's not American is obvious by this point, she's clearly French so he doesn't need to ask that, but he should figure out who the hell she is. "So, fair trade. I told you my name, why don't you clue me into yours?"

Slight racism (sorry)

[gardienne]

"Eponine." She replies, almost shyly. She sidles closer, eyeing Dave more closely now that she can see him properly through the gloom. "Are you Jewish, then? My Pa said that Jews have big noses and walk all hunched. But it means you're rich, dunnit? You don't look Jewish, though. You have lovely hair. Yours is more blonde than Cosette's. I wish mine were like that."

She runs her hands through her own shorn locks. "Papa says - said - they were just like mud from the Seine. I wish they weren't, though."

The Death of Ian (with mun permission) - Gore warn, decapitation, etc.

[carnagecarnival]

When Ian falls, he ponders it, leaving the corpse be. But compulsion, instinct, and habit win out. Take off the head, keep them from rising. Take off the motherfucking head because you want to. You need to. It's funny. He pulls the pick axe out and savors the noise it makes, a terrible 'schluck'. Then he reaches to the body, grips the head, and tears. The flesh rips free and blood spatters, on the ground, on him. He gasps a breath, the way a drug addict does on the first hit.

There will be creatures then, seeking the corpse, sniffing out the spill of blood. And so he drags the corpse, smearing blood like a paintbrush with his limp form. The boy was his age, he thinks. Or something close to it. Ain't personal, just survival. He doubts his victim will see it as such. He drags the corpse one direction, tears off a limb and throws it in another, and then he stalks off away from it, the head hung in his grip by the hair, for a lack of horns to hang onto. He searches through the fog, looking for somewhere to leave his temporary timebomb of rounding up beasts-- barkbeasts to cull and eat-- until the corpse would be picked up. The more blood spread the better.

And of course, his eyes and ears stay ready for any noise what comes. And as he steps up to the hive and pushes the door open, he hears a voice.

"THERE WILL BE NO MAKING OF HIS MOTHERFUCKING CULL TODAY, SISTER," He calls out from the dark.

Re: The Death of Ian (with mun permission) - Gore warn, decapitation, etc.

[gardienne]

"I know you." Eponine is trying to place the voice without seeing the Initiate. She doesn't want to move - wants the safety of the darkness.

"Who is it? Will you hurt me? Come out so I can see you - but if you try to attack me, I will fight back, and I will kill you, I swear."

Re: The Death of Ian (with mun permission) - Gore warn, decapitation, etc.

[carnagecarnival]

Half of him, the part up and awakened upon what he's doing now, says to cull her too. Cull everyone, kill ALL these motherfuckers, show capitol what needed to be shown, prove he ain't just a dime a dozen killed. But another part remembers she is... a friend, he supposes. And important to Sigma. Not to be touched, not to be harmed.

And so the war in his mind rages, like the Messiahs tow got into a wicked dispute, the loud and soft, until it becomes a back forth so steady it's like a hum. The wings of an insect. A middling balance of the two, that feels a little numb.

"A sister ain't going to cull him," He tells her. "THIS AIN'T HOW ALL HIS SCENE SHALL PLAY, WHETHER SHE WANTS IT TO OR MOTHERFUCKING NOT." He steps forward into the hive, his pack over his shoulder, a pickaxe in one hand, and Ian's head in the other. Blood coats him.

Re: The Death of Ian (with mun permission) - Gore warn, decapitation, etc.

[gardienne]

And Eponine freezes. In the dim light of the room, in the light of her torch, she can just about make out the Initiate. And the axe. It makes her own scissors look completely ridiculous. But then her eyes light upon the head in the Initiate's fist. Is it?

No -

No - NO - She steps forward. But yes.

"Is... have you?" She's stunned.

Re: The Death of Ian (with mun permission) - Gore warn, decapitation, etc.

[carnagecarnival]

He lifts a brow, and along with it Ian's head. It's comical and it is the furthest thing from it.

"Thought to drag out the beasts, get a fucking hunt on true. WASTE MOTHERFUCKING NOT." But that isn't what she's asking, is it? He sees the way her eyes have gone round, the way she looks like a weight has befallen her. His mind is still spinning too fast between states to give proper note and care of it like he should. "Yes, he culled him."

He didn't realise they were close. Too late now.

Re: The Death of Ian (with mun permission) - Gore warn, decapitation, etc.

[gardienne]

"You... Ian..." She's shocked - shocked to her absolute core. Never, ever has she seen such cruelty, as to parade a dead man's head about. Never...

OH -

She doesn't even know how it happens, but she's running at the Initiate, running to knock him over, to cut his throat the way he has beheaded her Ian.

"YOU HORRID MONSTER. YOU - YOU BASTARD. YOU - GOD! IAN! IAN, MY DARLING, DARLING IAN. I AM GOING TO KILL YOU FOR THIS. I WILL MAKE YOU PAY - OH, GOD, IAN!"

As she shouts, she begins to cry, noisily sobbing her grief and her anger. "How could you? You FUCKING monster!" She reaches for her scissors with her one good arm, brandishing them straight at the Initiate.