We'd Live on the Blooms Carried in on the Breeze

[iselldrugstothecommunity]

Who| Wyatt, Julie, R, Howard, Hyperion and Daniel Jackson
What| Wyatt's hopes and dreams get crushed, R gets eaten by piranhas.
Where| Tom Sawyer's Island
When| Week 5
Warnings/Notes| Death. Tag order Howard, Julie, R, Wyatt, Hyperion?

After the fireworks, Howard knows better than to relax. He knows that the sense of security is fragile at best, if not entirely illusory. Even still, there's a sense of comfort and stability that comes from rebuilding. Howard insisted on returning to the wreckage of Thunder Mountain, despite the explosions, to try and salvage some of the rope and traps they'd used before, but having done that, he's ready to put Frontierland behind him and move forward. Survival doesn't leave much room for sentiment, a sad reality both he and Julie seem to feel too keenly.

His little pack of people, the Mickey Mouse Club, as he's thinking of them, has relocated to Tom Sawyer's Island. That there's only one bridge to and from the island is a little bit of a concern, but it seems to be the safest place for the moment, and there's no sign that anyone else has spent much time here. The Tree House offers a nice view of anyone coming, though Howard doesn't particularly like having to climb up there with his injuries. His right hand has become almost entirely unusable; aside from twitching his thumb and index finger, he can't manage anything more with it. It's immobilized by pain and numbness. He cradles it to his chest when he's at rest.

The view from the Tree House is unfortunate in another way, too; from up there, it's undeniable to see the havoc the fireworks wrought. Some parts of Disneyland are still smoking. More uncomfortable still, the faces of the dead appear to seem closer from up here, and Howard suspects that if they're in a bubble, they're closer to the ceiling at this location. He doesn't like being up next to the enlarged visages of his fallen competitors. Something about it gives him, for lack of a better word, 'the creeps'.

Howard sits at the Treasure Trove, using his knife to carve at a piece of wood. He's trying to complete R's pirate outfit by crafting a peg leg. It isn't easy doing it one-handed, and he keeps the piece of wood in place by trapping it between his ankles and the ground. It's shoddy work, much shoddier than he'd like to admit, but R seems to appreciate it, and that's what matters. Howard doesn't know of any better way to show affection for someone than to give them things, and he wants to encourage R to realize that while Howard's still smarting over almost getting eaten, they're still cool. They're still bros. Friends.

The four of them. Friends.

"Whose turn is it to see if we caught anything in our snares?" The traps they set haven't yielded much on the Island, but there are still some in the buildings of Frontierland and around Adventureland. Howard's been trying to pull his weight with the group, but Wyatt's advised him against going off on his own in the battered condition he's in, so he's been left to more domestic tasks.

Comments

[cutshort]

Hyperion watches the entire scene with a vague interest, tilting his head as R finally gathers enough strength and intelligence to do as he's told. The remainder of the group isn't quite as entertaining to watch. They're just scared or angry, nothing new in the way either one of them reacts. One is trying to be a hero, the other is hopelessly needing to be rescued. The question rings him pleasantly, however, while he shakes off some of the strange black substance from his spear. Hyperion is quiet for a moment.

"I want you to tell me about your friend."

The one that got away. The abomination that tried to kill and devour Hyperion. They should have interesting things to say, once the adrenaline wears off.

If the adrenaline is ever given the opportunity to wear off.

[misscabernet]

Fucking finally. Julie, unlike Howard, doesn't have much hope. Not for daring rescues -- those don't happen in real life. Sometimes you get lucky, most of the time luck doesn't exist. As long as he's gone, though, it's one less body to worry about.

Only thing she regrets is R hadn't even managed to bite him. At least then she'd get to look forward to knowing the guy was gonna turn Dead.

This is so movie. She's looking death in the face, feeling like shit. She's hoping he's gonna skip the evil monologue, but she's bracing herself for it. At least zombies don't talk. They kind of moan and chew your neck open. It sucks to have prepared the last ten years of her life, getting ready to get offed by a zombie somewhere, somehow, and she gets thrown here. At least she won't pop up a zombie. Worse things to be than dead.

"He's Dead," she says, moving closer, raising her arms and dropping them like who cares? "So what? Obviously you've got a grudge. What do you want us to do about it?"

[iselldrugstothecommunity]

Thoughts rush like a swarm of insects through Howard's brain, disjointed, chaotic, fighting past roadblocks of fear and panic and aborted escape plans and weird memories of his parents that always seem to crop up uninvited when death is breathing down his neck.

He likes Frank Sinatra and comfortable clothes and he likes it when people let him finish his sentences and he's lukewarm on bacon and steak but he'll eat it if you give it to him because he wants to impress people, and you get used to the way he smells after a few minutes, and he'd probably be a great writer if he could read...

But he knows Hyperion isn't looking for that. He wipes his mouth on the back of his hand, and he's shaking so badly that he feels like he's about to put his eye out with the blade he's still holding. He lowers it a little, licks away the last of the spit and bile.

"Look, you obviously didn't get bit any. Now you just have beef to have beef, so you can just...please just let us go..."

He wishes he didn't sound so pathetic, like he's on the verge of tears. You don't get to negotiate when someone else can tell they have all the power, but he's never been good at hiding terror. He hopes Julie can keep up the tough act a little longer, stall a little longer.

One sudden move and he'll get desperate, and he knows that desperation is the no man's land where all bets are off.

"We'll make sure he doesn't try to bite you again."

[cutshort]

"No, you won't."

His answer is simple. Collected. Calm. The other two people present in this conversation are so fired up with fear and anger, so much he can practically taste it. In turn he looks like he can be affected by nothing, no hint of emotion in the twist of his lips, int the shift of his eyes. He has no empathy for how terrified Howard feels, he feels no amazement at how brave and angry Julie wants to be.

"Don't lie to me." He narrows his eyes, shaking his head. Wrong decision. Wrong words. But back to her question. "I want to talk."

[misscabernet]

She could've given the guy a break if it hadn't been evident that Mr. Zombie was doing fine not eating everyone he came into contact with. God, the guy had somehow managed to make friends. It's not exactly gonna take a muzzle to get R not to eat people.

It's not like he wants to.

"He's not our attack dog," she all but spits, the fear coiling nicely into anger. It's not just wanting to be pissed -- she's way beyond want now. "You don't want to talk, you want to threaten." Please. Been there, done this. He wouldn't have taunted them, taunted R enough into attacking, if he wanted to just sit down and have a conversation and share their fish. "So get on with it."

[iselldrugstothecommunity]

"If you wanted to talk, you'd put the weapon down." It's not an accusation. Howard's not in a position to accuse. Neither of them are, even if Julie is acting like she is.

Howard's mind is racing, trying to find another way out. Even if he could magically run for it, Hyperion could take either of them down, and that would leave Julie vulnerable. She's not about to leave him, either. She's not the cut and run kind.

He's already running calculations. Only two people will walk away from this at most. And somehow, there's strange comfort in that, because thinking of the practical aspects means not thinking about all the things Hyperion could do to him with a spear.

"Julie," he whispers. Another drop of saliva slides down the gash down his face and hangs precariously from chin. He keeps blinking, as if trying to change the channel on the situation in front of him. "When I give you the signal, take the knife."

[cutshort]

Hyperion is smiling when the other two spit words at him and exchange others between them. No, he isn't here to just talk. He would have liked to, for a while, but in the end there would be only one thing to do.

It seems they're the type that would like to skip on over to just that.

Without another word, without another sound, Hyperion takes quick steps towards them, grabbing the girl by her neck, shoving her back with what looks like a pleasant little snarl, showing teeth, leaning in to intimidate and take a very close look at how her expression shifts, if at all.

He points the spear at Howard. For a moment it's nothing but a quiet threat - then he turns his head and attention to him.

"You. Stay there."

[misscabernet]

Julie likes to think of herself as practical. It's why she hates stressful situations -- she'd like them just to get over with it instead of drawing out the fear. Fear is exhausting. It can only last so long.

Guess she has more of her dad in her than she thought. Maybe not. He probably would've impaled himself on the pointy end by now. Or he would've stolen the knife and had it lodged in the guy's forehead.

At long last, thank the goddamn lord, he actually does something.

Which surprises her, admittedly. Julie's thrown off her balance, because despite her experience and her skill, she's not big and she's not bulky. Problem is, she's a scrapper when times are desperate. A snarl isn't going to scare her off; she's already too fucking scared for that with a heartbeat like a trapped rodent and the taste of bile in her mouth.

She frowns, swallowing the lump in her throat, tears already in her eyes. Because she's not gonna survive. Figures that's just the way it goes. At least if the lance goes to her, Howard might have time to do something.

So the moment his attention is turned away, she aims a hard elbow right at the guy's solar plexus, just enough force to shove the breath out of him.

[iselldrugstothecommunity]

"Julie!"

Howard lurches forward on his feet, to his tiptoes, then forces himself back when he sees the lance in his direction.

There isn't anything he can do for Julie. He can't throw a punch or a blade or anything like that. He can't reach her, not when they're separated by a maniac with several feet of wood and a pointy end. The most he can do is capitalize on that moment where Hyperion's attention is diverted, to create as much chaos as possible, and hope maybe throwing the proverbial chessboard across the table will let Julie find a queen in the rubble.

He wants to justify it as being to help Julie. He wants to say it's not a cowardly act, that it's actually a noble thing, to remove himself from the equation. He wants it to be something greater than what it is, a virtuous distraction, an atom bomb instead of a sparkler.

But the truth is he's just terrified, and that's what allows his body to move too fast for the impulses of self-preservation to neuter the momentum out of his fist. The truth is that he's still just running from the memory of being tortured to death.

"Make me," he hisses back at Hyperion. He lunges forward and off, to the side of the spear, the opposite direction as Julie as she throws her elbow.

And he slams the blade into the base of his own throat.

[cutshort]

Julie's attack only seems to motivate him even more, hunching over for a moment before he gets his breath back and shoves her once again, that same snarl present in his lips, ready to ignore the boy completely and show the girl why that was a very big mistake.

Except Howard does something extremely unexpected, and it takes a reaction from the girl to make him realize exactly what it was.

He stands almost frozen, watching the boy struggle with his self-inflicted death, watching the blood pour from his throat like it's the first time he's ever seen someone bleed. It's only when he finally tumbles over lifelessly that Hyperion remembers his place.

"Not much of a friend."

[misscabernet]

In half a second she's hoping R's stumbled off fast enough to find someone, anyone, or at least get himself out of hearing range, and she wonders crazily -- how far can he smell it? How far can zombie instincts reach out and smell blood?

He better not recognize it, that's all she's saying. He better not come back.

It's only a half-formed thought. She's back on the floor before she even realizes it, and there's no time to react. Julie watches as Howard bleeds without even enough breath in her throat to cry his name, like it'd fucking help a bit. What the Christ. What the ever-loving fucking Christ. She can't even scream. She opens her mouth and a hiccup-like sound comes out, her eyes striking warm with tears.

Not the first time she's watched someone off themselves. It's not the kind of thing a person gets numb to.

She keeps watching as the body crumples -- because she's learned from Dad, she's not stupid, that once the light's gone it's just a body, and if there's no bite it stays just a unmoving corpse. His voice is loud in her head: it's not even good bait. The Dead don't eat bodies.

She sits back up, but doesn't push to her feet. That was all the fight she had. Why bother now? The point of being a distraction's gone. Her face is blank as she looks over the lance to the stranger's face. Not a zombie, like she's always figured. Living, breathing human. The more dangerous animal in the end.

"Hey," she says, the tears leaving tracks over the dirt on her face. At least humans understand last words. "Fuck you."

[cutshort]

He's still staring, fist closed, fingers toying with the inside of his palm, trying to assess the situation. It's a shame that the boy should take his own life - another man had threatened to do the same, right in front of Hyperion, just so the virus-infected tribute wouldn't take another life with his own hands. At the time Hyperion preferred to let him go, watch him leave instead of watching him bleed in vain. Now he could only stare and ignore the tearful girl. Even her words barely left a mark in his thoughts.

There's an almost distracted quality to the way he turns back to her, lips neutral, eyes slightly widened, image of a suicide still ingrained in his head. Humans do understand last words. So does whatever Hyperion's virus turned him into.

She's ready.

He leans down to grab her again, by her hair, walk with her until he finds a nice spot, right by the corpse of her last hope. If it's death she expects, it's death she'll get. Pity she was so willing to fight before, pity it's all gone from her now.

"They're coming. You won't be alone for long."

Because everyone dies alone, even by the side of their dearly deceased. That's a promise.

He lifts the lance, steady and frozen in time, then drives it down her chest.