All the other kids with the slumped cake mix

[shenunigans]

Who| Dave, Bro-zombie and OPEN with a closed Terezi prompt
What| Dave gets separated from Elsa, his brief luck is running out fast.
Where| Around the town, peeking around stores.
When| Just before Hellrena 2
Warnings/Notes| Manpain and zombie murder, naughty language watch out kids

Thus far, the Arena had probably gone a little too well. Granted, Dave got off to a bumpy start and he had watched Curtis the scientist die in front of him, but he was okay. More importantly, so was Elsa. He'd like to think he doesn't get attached easily, but they're Districtmates and they quickly stuck together through the crucial moments of the Arena. The hellish heat had nothing on her ice powers, and he could fight well enough to keep her safe from most things. Most, being the unfortunate keyword. They'd been shifting from house to house, rationing out the packs they'd been sent, but the fact that the two of them were coasting was enough to lead a couple of those dogs to their house.

Dave had protected Elsa as best he could, but eventually they'd split in different directions. He was sure he saw a flurry of blonde following him, he hadn't dared to turn around. It was only after he'd dived into the small window of an rundown old bookshop that he'd realised he wasn't being followed by her, or anything, he thought.

Of course, he wastes no time scrambling back out and searching through the fog for her, he isn't stupid enough to call out her name, but he lets out the occasional concerned murmur. A figure approaches him, and it is blond, but it certainly isn't Elsa. That is motherfucking Bro Strider in this post apopaloptic wasteland, looking fresh to fucking death. Or from death, really, as the case may be. Regardless of how strange he looks, Dave is quick to grab him by the wrist and jog him along with him, because that's clearly the natural thing to do.

Something is off, way off. He just can't bring himself to do anything about it, he won't abandon Bro and he won't kill him just for being a bit off. He probably just needs food, which Dave doesn't have, guess they're a two man search party now. Dave tries to be quiet, but through the piercing silence he occasionally tries to make conversation with Bro, who doesn't reply- but that's nothing new.

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[shenunigans]

Oh. [That's about all he can verbalise at this particular moment. There's this sudden sinking feeling, like that moment when you miss the last stair and you don't know if you'll make it. All of a sudden he's terrified of dying and it's far too late to do anything about it.

So, despite not wanting to answer that question, he welcomes the opportunity to keep rambling. It's getting harder to be witty when everything is starting to feel foggy and faint, but he suddenly feels like now might be the time to say all of the important things and answer the important questions.]

I'm not a hero, I just.. [He isn't pausing for dramatics here, he's just lost the plot a little.] Didn't want you to die and have it be my fault. You already have years of shit to hold over me. [And after all of those words, he's definitely fading faster. God, he wastes his breath on the worst things.

There's a long pause before he pipes up again, much quieter than before. It's hard to say if it's because he's weak or because he's a stubborn child who hates saying this shit.] I'm sorry for being an asshole. Before. It was a bad joke to ruin a friendship over. [He presses his lips together for a moment.] I think we're even now. [He observes, and it's almost like he fell asleep talking at a slumber party. There's a sense of relief when he feels himself slip those last few inches, the dread is almost entirely gone before he stops feeling anything. That, my friend, is one dead Dave.]

[pythianjudgment]

[Didn't want her to die, he says. Didn't want it to be his fault, he says. They're even now, he says. None of it makes any sense. She wants to shout at him that dying for her isn't any better than letting her die. It just means that she has to live with the choice, and he doesn't. It's not fair.

He goes still, and the cannon sounds loud enough to make her jump. Her heart lurches in fear.] Dave? Dave! [She shakes him--once lightly and then again a little harder when he doesn't respond. He still doesn't move.

A sickness drops into her stomach, and the burning flares up in her eyes. She doesn't try to hold it back this time. She just buries her face in her folded arms, resting over Dave's still chest. Fuck anyone who might be watching. She lets herself cry, and she doesn't care. She doesn't have enough fucks left to keep up some stupid facade of emotionlessness.

Bitterly, she wonders what it would be like to be out of these arenas early. To be the one dying instead of the one left behind with blood on her hands and this heavy feeling in her chest. It might be nice once in a while. Selfish, but nice.

Eventually, Terezi lifts her head again, rubbing the tears off of her face. She probably looks like a wreck, but she couldn't care less. She picks up her sweater, uncrumpling it and tying it around her waist. It's still damp with blood, but whatever. It'll dry. For a moment, she wonders if she should take something of his to keep... Just in case. Her hands rest on his shades briefly--what must have been his token. But she draws them back again empty-handed. He'll be back in the Capitol. He has to be. He's always so stupid about those shades... He'll be mad if she takes them.

Getting to her feet, Terezi squares her shoulders. Can't stick around forever... They won't collect the body if she's still here. Grabbing her bag, her scrap of metal, and any odds and ends left lying around; she sets off through the town again.]