smarterthanthem: (that's not ketchup)
Clementine ([personal profile] smarterthanthem) wrote in [community profile] thearena2014-06-01 04:43 pm
Entry tags:

Closed; Girl meets zombie

Who| Clementine and R
What| Who knew there was a Walker, or close enough, as a tribute? Clem's about to be very disturbed.
Where| One of the old town houses.
When| Backdated to week 1
Warnings/Notes| Possible threat of violence

Clementine sits on the back step of the house. Ellie's inside, sleeping, it's Clem's turn to keep watch. Bundled up inside her coat and Ellie's knife in hand she huddles up under the fabric, trying to keep as warm as she can against the cold fog. The front door is barricaded and so this is the only exit (excluding the windows) of the house, it had seemed secure enough to make a resting place for the day.

They've been lucky so far, aside from a couple closely avoided encounters with some of the monsters (and the woman Clem had hit with the brick) they haven't really run into trouble yet.
shambler: (0083)

[personal profile] shambler 2014-06-02 07:54 am (UTC)(link)
R's not yet at that stage where he'll start ripping out throats left and riht until the hunger's sated. He is at that stage where he wanders around bumping into things, miserable, feeling that emptiness pulling at his gums and turning into a ball in his stomach. It's not a good feeling.

He stumbles through the fog with the stump of his arm swinging at an awkward angle. Without both arms to compensate, he's lurching along at an uneven angle, listing to the side like a ship keeling over in slow motion.

R comes across the house by smell rather than sight: he smells Living with that sixth sense a corpse has, a stabbing, pulling sensation in the back of his brain, and he follows it out of instinct. One of them's familiar. Maybe a friend. He thinks he could use a friend. He materializes out of the fog bank a few feet away from where Clementine sits, still listing, still dragging his feet in that shuffle that will sound just like the walkers from her world.
shambler: (048)

[personal profile] shambler 2014-06-04 09:19 am (UTC)(link)
The gasp drags R's attention to Clementine: it's the little noises like that, the ones that zombies don't make because it's not in their nature. They wheeze and groan and that's pretty much about it for the average conversation between Dead. His head swings toward her as he stares.

She doesn't immediately come at him, like that woman closer to the Cornucopia had. R's hoping this is a better sign than last time because at the rate people are knocking his arms off, he's going to run out before the week is over. His other hand flutters up in this feeble attempt to go I won't rip out your throat, promise.

Well. Maybe not promise. R doesn't feel like he's starving just yet, but he's a zombie. He can't keep that promise.

"Wgh...." R wobbles to a gradual stop a few feet away from the porch, swaying gently. "Wait."

He peers anxiously at the girl, who's small enough to be almost bite-sized to a zombie, and she's maintained a healthy distance between them. The new hunger grits its teeth
shambler: (051)

[personal profile] shambler 2014-06-08 07:44 am (UTC)(link)
R can see that moment of shock bloom on the girl's face: it's the same one that happened with Julie, with Perry when he realized the zombie who ate him could string together a sentence. Maybe this kid is from the same kind of world? Or she could be like Ellie's, different, just as dangerous, but same in a lot of other ways and one of those was the Infected? They're supposed to be mindless, they're supposed to be incoherent. Anything other than that and suddenly it throws off all kinds of assumptions.

To be fair, R thinks a lot of them are fair enough. His kind does tend to bite first and ask questions never. He can't blame the Living for responding in kind.

"Wait," R wheezes. His good hand flutters like he's not sure what to do with it. A little bit of oozing drool edges out the corner of his mouth, blackened by death. "Don't want...hurt. Rr..."

He touches his chest with his hand, trying to emphasizes that they could be on a name basis and it's not just groaning. This had worked with Ellie. He hopes trying to communicate will also work with this girl.
shambler: (116)

[personal profile] shambler 2014-06-10 05:14 pm (UTC)(link)
R's head wobbles in an approximation of a nod.

"Re...member." Don't ask him how, because he still hasn't worked out why he and M can manage words but others can't. "Still...hard."

Basically he doesn't think he's up for long, heavy conversation: verbally, at least. He knows mentally he's more or less there, it's just that it's distracting with the hunger always brimming under the surface and the inevitable stage fright trying to talk in front of Living like this girl.
shambler: (078)

[personal profile] shambler 2014-06-11 06:13 am (UTC)(link)
This isn't going too well, predictably. With Julie and Howard and even Perry, it had been special cases, different circumstances. Julie thought she was going to die, Howard had issues with making friends and identifying that line between dangerous/not dangerous, and Perry had wanted to die anyway. He'd had nothing left to lose. There hadn't been a sense that he'd shaken his worldview. This girl is taking it much worse.

Leaves a dead boy to wonder how many friends and family she had to kill.

"Most..." R shakes his head to show he gets that. Majority don't talk, but... "Some...can. Feel...here."

He touches his still heart, his fingers point at his brain in a perpetual state of decay. Maybe he should shuffle off back into the night instead of rubbing this in her face. It might be kinder.
shambler: (051)

[personal profile] shambler 2014-06-15 04:32 am (UTC)(link)
R waffles, because zombies usually aren't decisive thinkers. He stumbles backward, head hanging down, eyes on her and wondering if he should keep trying to talk to her or maybe the kinder thing to do would be to beat a retreat. Thinking about it, R's going with option 2: dropping his eyes, he wheels awkwardly around and does exactly what Clementine says.

He goes away.