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WHO | R and Copycat [Closed]
WHAT | R has another run-in with a Tribute. It goes worse than before. He probably should learn how to climb too in the future. They shank each other.
WHEN | After his spat with Atticus in the crevasse.
WHERE | A crevasse not far from the Cornucopia.
WARNINGS / NOTES | Gore, death.
Note to self: wolves still aren't worth hunting down.
Now he’s minus an arm and he has nothing to show for it. Today isn’t his day.
R really does sigh this time.
He does it again a few days later. Being a zombie is like that: the days seem to last forever or, blink-and-you’ll-miss it, suddenly it’s a week later shuffling down a hall or bumping into the same bench over and over. R cranes his head to look up. Same sky as before, a few stars winking at him. Still cold down here. He can register it making even a shamble hard work and it’s starting to creep in that feels…uncomfortable. Bad, AKA he’s starting to suspect he can actually feel it. Weird. R isn’t sure what to make of it. What he does know is he wishes he had his arm back. Having a stump flopping around throws his balance off. No wonder he’s run into more walls than usual. How the other zombies made it look so easy is beyond him and R thinks those Dead deserve major props, on second thought.
Climbing out is a no-go when his hand-eye coordination isn’t exactly good on the best of days. After awhile R gave up. Or more like the simply lost the urge, had it slide away like everything else, and now he stares up at the sky, his eyes wide as he strains to listen. Huh, he thought he heard something. A voice? A footstep against the snow? The zombie turns toward the sound like it’s a magnet. Hey, at this point, anything beats getting personal with another wall of snow and ice again. It makes the airport look like a party.
A chunk of ice comes is dislodged from overhead, tumbling down and crashing at R's feet. The zombie strains toward the activity above him. One of those others that Atticus was all worried about? Another Dead?
WHAT | R has another run-in with a Tribute. It goes worse than before. He probably should learn how to climb too in the future. They shank each other.
WHEN | After his spat with Atticus in the crevasse.
WHERE | A crevasse not far from the Cornucopia.
WARNINGS / NOTES | Gore, death.
Note to self: wolves still aren't worth hunting down.
Now he’s minus an arm and he has nothing to show for it. Today isn’t his day.
R really does sigh this time.
He does it again a few days later. Being a zombie is like that: the days seem to last forever or, blink-and-you’ll-miss it, suddenly it’s a week later shuffling down a hall or bumping into the same bench over and over. R cranes his head to look up. Same sky as before, a few stars winking at him. Still cold down here. He can register it making even a shamble hard work and it’s starting to creep in that feels…uncomfortable. Bad, AKA he’s starting to suspect he can actually feel it. Weird. R isn’t sure what to make of it. What he does know is he wishes he had his arm back. Having a stump flopping around throws his balance off. No wonder he’s run into more walls than usual. How the other zombies made it look so easy is beyond him and R thinks those Dead deserve major props, on second thought.
Climbing out is a no-go when his hand-eye coordination isn’t exactly good on the best of days. After awhile R gave up. Or more like the simply lost the urge, had it slide away like everything else, and now he stares up at the sky, his eyes wide as he strains to listen. Huh, he thought he heard something. A voice? A footstep against the snow? The zombie turns toward the sound like it’s a magnet. Hey, at this point, anything beats getting personal with another wall of snow and ice again. It makes the airport look like a party.
A chunk of ice comes is dislodged from overhead, tumbling down and crashing at R's feet. The zombie strains toward the activity above him. One of those others that Atticus was all worried about? Another Dead?