entrancelogs | OPEN | you think i'm dead but

Entry tags:

OPEN | you think i'm dead but

Who: Anders (

circlejerked) and anyone!
Where: Alexandria.
When: Backdated to July 15-16th.
Rating: PG-13 for our unwelcomed guests, the zombies.
Summary: No Starbucks, but you get a mage with a big stick. A late edition to the zombie event, but I mean, it's zombies. Gotta love zombies.
The Story:

I. Day 2

_{[Don't look now, but there's a man in a housecoat beating on a zombie at the front gate... sort of?

There is a man and he is in robes, but up close they decidedly fall closer to the armored battle wear variety, and the weapon in his hand is less a bludgeon in the act of mindless beating and more a long, hefty fighting staff in the middle of poking. The zombie straining against the bars seems little more than harmlessly irate, swaying back a step at each push of the staff only to push forward again to repeat the process.

What you see before you is a mage studying the undead. A little poke to see its pain response there, a little prod to see how it reacts there... The experiment continues on with magic from that point: telekinetic blasts, tongues of fire, small currents of electricity that leap from his fingers, testing the bare minimum of forced needed to make the dead permanently dead.

Something can be said for these pitiful creatures: at least they're not carrying fungal spores, or the taint, or invisible to the naked eye.]}

... just ugly.

II. Day 3

_{[Survival is, fortunately enough, something a successful apostate can do in his sleep--mostly since there's not a lot of time or opportunity to sleep when every templar in creation is out for your hide. Joining the Wardens had only continued to teach the joys of fighting hordes of invading monsters. Occupational hazards.

What that means for whomever happened to run into this house with him to shake pursuing off pursuing zombies is that Anders had been quite content to play sentry at the window, a practiced hand at watching out for the nearest thing intending to kill him. Deprived of prey, most of the zombies had lost interest milling around and slowly waddled off back onto the street in search of bigger and better pursuits, but one stubbornly curious zombie continues to claw at the door. It's starting to draw attention, Anders notes with an exasperated grimace.

Well, shooing won't work, so...

Looking to his latest survival partner, he eases a knife from the sheath at his belt and nods at the door. Open it.

Although beaning it with his heavy staff could be fun and cathartic, a more subtle shushing might be best for this loner that won't just take a hint.]}

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[The robes, in a way, are familiar. They seem to be in the same armor family as a young man Mettaton spoke to once many months ago before he disappeared from Wonderland entirely. He absorbs the human from afar. When he starts using magic Mettaton's eyes widen a bit in surprise but also delight. Ah, so he is like him!

He walks up quickly. The zombie turns its head toward him for a moment at the sound of his heels but then turns its attention back to the mage.]

Well well well! Look at you! You've got quite the extra punch against these creatures!

_{[Anders turns when his experimentation garners attention, looking unconcerned that the zombie has electrical sparks dancing around its head and begun to smoke.]}

Oh, hello.

_{[He shakes his hand so that the matching sparks seem to shake off like glitter. He's not sure quite what Mettaton is, but using lightning-based spellwork around a mechanical being seems like just asking for trouble, and he's trying to fry beings on the other side of the gate, not on this one.]}

I did. I'm afraid my abilities aren't as up to snuff as I'm used to. I have a feeling this event is playing havoc with our natural defenses.

[Ohhh, now THAT is a pretty display! Mettaton smiles appreciatively at the arcane takedown of the undead.]

Mmm, so Wonderland is trying to make it that much more difficult to fight back?

[He peers curiously through the gate and practically is pressed to it; all in all a dangerous place to be... if you're made of flesh. The walkers once more pay him no mind and Mettaton grins.]

It seems even Wonderland couldn't make metal appealing to these creatures, however.

[He looks back to Anders.]

I'm Mettaton. Who are you?

Wouldn't be the first time.

_{[He sounds resigned about that, but not surprised. At least his powers aren't completely gone this time--then he'd be well and truly fucked. Flesh and blood and magicless is a poor combination around the ravenous undead.]}

You don't seem like you have much to worry about. _{[Observed as the zombies press around him--him and only him. This is not how he pictured being so irresistible people can't keep their hands off him, s i g h.]} Anders.

That is true. This place loves to keep us on our toes.

[Losing his magic had been one of the more disorienting aspects of the last few events, though the ones with alternate lives still sit heavily on him.]

It seems these zombies aren't quite interested in curing their potential iron deficiencies, so I am mostly untouched! This is a rare slide that Wonderland has given me.

[Mettaton smiles brightly.]

It's good to meet you, Anders! Have you always had magic, or is that a more recent development?

[Humans with magic will always be so fascinating!]

_{[Iron deficiencies. Mettaton got him there--Anders snorts a laugh. Leaving the zombies to their business for the moment, he brushes his hands clean of spell residue and gives the robo comedian a nod.]}

Lucky you.

_{[He's not bitter. Okay, maybe he's a little bitter. Why don't they ever get attacked by creatures that like to chew metal or suck on demonic essence? It's unfair, really. This is flesh and blood oppression.]}

You mean did I pick up the skill along the way? Ha, it'd be something if that were the case. No, I'm too old of a dog for that kind of new trick--a mage born and raised, how do you do.

_{[On the other hand, one glance at this fellow is all it takes to make a person wonder: has Mettaton... always been like... this?]}

[His rather bad joke gets a snort out of him and Mettaton grins even more. He's got a cute laugh!

Don't worry Anders, one day another event will come along that kills all tech and Mettaton will be dragging around a hunk of metal for a body for a week again and you shall be vindicated.]

A mage, born and raised!

[He says it with a certain amount of delight at the thought.]

In my world, there haven't been humans with magic in a very long time.

[Granted, as a monster, he should have more mixed emotions about the idea of humans with magic buuuuut he's a human-aboo and therefore kind of a mess.]

_{[Can they just have a nice Hawaiian beach event where nothing worse than food poisoning happens....................]}

That's right.

_{[You seem really chipper about the news, Mettaton. That's a change from the usual state of affairs in Thedas, and it never fails to put him on slightly surprised footing. Surprised, but not unpleasantly so. Only in Wonderland could he talk cheerfully about magic with a sentient metal being that looks as coiffed as an Orlesian courtier's favorite mistress.]}

Oho, that so? Your version of the Maker must had a change of heart about gifting humanity with magic. Still better if you have magic at all. The world this memory comes from... I'm not so sure they have any beyond stage magic. It's really no wonder they have a problem with the undead.

[The closest Wonderland has gotten to that was the Citadel event and Mettaton, personally, still managed to run into some danger with the law and crashed a skycar into the Presidium lawn so perhaps Wonderland events are just cursed.]

Perhaps, though I don't know who this Maker it is you are talking about.

[He might mean some sort of god if the context clues are right.]

Humans in my world used to have a lot more magic but there is a prevailing theory that after their 7 most powerful mages sealed us Monsters into the Underground, the magic of the world above slowly leaked away and now magic is a distant memory for them.

[He looks around a bit and nods in agreement.]

Oh yes. This world certainly would have benefited greatly from any amount of magic at all against those beasts.

_{[Are we sure it's not Mettaton that's cursed...? We're talking crop circles, we're talking second shooters, we're talking chem trails in the sky, it's all a conspiracy.]}

You know-- _{[He waves a hand, this time one without emitting sparks or flames. By now he's come to learn the multiverse is full of creator gods that go by hundreds of names.]} A cosmic maker who makes anything worth making in the universe. People. Magic. Dessert.

_{[Including a virus that holds the living hostage and induces a plague of undead, too, perhaps. But he doesn't say that. He doesn't think he has to, when the neglect of Michonne and Clementine's world is apparent all around them.

Their Maker must be of a particularly cruel nature.]}

Wha-- Wait, the mages in your world are responsible for sealing you away? _{[Mettaton's admission is sufficient to distract from the troubles of the world they currently reside in.]} You must know Alphys.

_{[Speaking of monsters connected to magic who live underground...]}

Edited 2017-08-25 09:59 (UTC)

[The moon landing was faked and Mettaton was so unfathomably beautiful that he was cursed by a jealous witch, so now any event he is in clearly must go wrong, no matter how innocent it is. We've cracked the goddamn Da Vinci code!]

Oh! That makes sense, yes. I don't particularly believe in that myself, though I do know a number of humans do.

[His spiritual views are kind of funky and honestly he'd be a very pious person if he ever turned his worship of himself onto a greater being.

He snaps to attention at Anders's words, a small look of delight blooming on his face.]

I do! She's the one who built me. Do you know her?

_{[Hold up.

Hold up.]}

Are we talking about the same Alphys? Small, scaly? Likes anime? Are you saying she's your creator?

_{[Oh my god, Alphys is the robot Maker, that's... Actually, that's not all that surprising for her. Mettaton already seems a magnitude of order more well-behaved than those stab-happy box tentacles.]}

[Mettaton visibly brightens when Anders describes her.]

Yes!! She is my creator. I'm her greatest creation.

[There is a grand measure of pride in his words as he says that.]

_[........]

So she's like your Maker.

_{[Interesting. Also possibly blasphemous, but hey, they're already standing in a godforsaken world. The Andrastian Maker's probably not listening.]}

What does that make you, some kind of metal golem?

I suppose so if you want to look at it like that, though really creating me was my idea.

[He winks at Anders when he says that. Is he serious? Of course not, he can't be serious... right?]

A golem! I am no golem, I assure you.

[He shudders. Alphys's little pet golem still gives him the creeps sometimes.]

I have no control rod. I am a being of free will.

[He stops.]

...You wouldn't happen to know Cullen, would you?

Already calling the shots before you existed! A natural born leader if there ever was one.

_{[Honestly, the only part of Mettaton's answer that makes sense to Anders is control rod, and his eyebrows lift in recognition. Now that's a term you don't hear bandied about every day.]}

More like Cullen knows me. _{[There's never a bad time to throw some shade on the one and only Cullen Rutherford, it's a philosophy Anders lives by.]} Why, did he ask the same thing? Drat. I'm going to need to get some new material if that's the case.

It takes a special kind of person to do what I do, but I always do it splendidly so there is never any doubt.

[Mettaton laughs at Anders's wording.]

He did in fact! He wasn't as fond of my response to his question however.

[It was an amazing one, in his opinion.]

Are you two from the same world or have you just hit it off rather badly here in Wonderland?

[Alphys hates these kinds of events. With adequate prep time, with even a few days, she could have protected all of them from this. All they needed was a wall. This wasn't Hell, this wasn't temptations, it was just-- it was just a wall.

Unfortunately, she continues not to have any real form of self-defense, and she's much too short to carry any kind of bladed weapon properly and too weak to do any real damage with anything else. Despite that, she's managed a metal baseball bat as opposed to being completely unarmed, and has been hiding and ducking out of danger ever since.

Until, y'know, Anders decides this looks like a great time to take this thing.

She stands by the door, hands obviously shaking, whispering to him in hushed, but urgent, tones.]

Are you sure you c-can take it?

_{[Don't underestimate the virtues of hiding and ducking--avoiding your problems entirely can be a fantastic way of staying alive, Anders being a prime exemplar of that.

Too bad that survival method doesn't work too well when your problems are literally scratching at the door. Better they deal with one now, then the dozen or so this thing is going to draw in. He'd rather not cast a barrier if he can help it--too taxing on his mana reserves. It's not just him he has to take into consideration; people like Alphys are too exposed and in danger like this.

Almost makes a guy miss the glory days of being a selfish bastard and never staying in a place longer than a few weeks at a time.]}

You let it in, I make with the stabbity part, we're rid of our loiterer before more come. It's a flawless plan.

_{[The real concern here is that he's going to get dead flesh under his fingernails--but oh well, sacrifices must be made.]}

[She wears at her bottom lip, looking between Anders and the door one more time. She just... it's not like she has to handle this fight. She just has to trust him. It's fine. It's fine.]

Okay, just, uh... s-stay quiet, I guess. I'll shut him in here as soon as he's, uh, i-inside.

[She braces herself, grips the doorknob tight, and pulls it open towards her, not letting go.]

_{[Reasons he's holding the knife and not the doorknob: he'd rather have Alphys well away from the danger. Better he be the first thing the hungry undead see--at the bare minimum, he's taller, and heavier, and can better handle the risks should something go wrong, like their zombie friend getting too handsy.]}

What could be easier?

_{[He winks at her. It's totally fine. What's a little tag team murder for if not bringing people together...?

When the door opens and the undead on the other side of it stumbles over the threshold, dimly realizing its clawing fingers have met air and not unmovable wood, Anders is ready. Mostly. Mages are at a disadvantage fighting at close range; he prefers not to when given a choice. But it's not a spell he's wielding in this instance, it's cold, hard steel, and he doesn't hesitate to meet the zombie halfway.

The less time it has to turn and see Alphys, the safer for them both. His arm goes around the zombie's neck in a restraining hold, keeping it from biting, while he drives the blade into its brain matter with the other hand. It goes in easily.

A little too easily. This thing is ripe, yuck.]}

[She holds tight as soon as Anders moves, smacking the door shut as soon as possible as Anders drives it home. And oh, what a noise. That is quite possibly the worst sound she's ever heard in her life.

She leans back against the now closed door, watching Anders closely.]

Is it-- dead? Like, uhm, n-not moving while dead anymore???

_{[Side-stepping, Anders lets the carpet claim the body, nose wrinkling and mouth grimacing. Give him a living person to kill any day--the dead ones are too spongy and they ooze.

A second of still silence passes. The zombie remains quite still.]}

As it hasn't tried to bite my ankles yet, I'd say... mission successful? Good work, team.

Uh. Yeah, I guess.

[She watches it warily, wanting to poke it with something and simultaneously not wanting to come near it.

Thankfully (or not), she's immediately distracted by a whump right at her back against the door, and she lets out a squeak. Guess a few more might've heard the door slam.]

Oh no. Oh g-god I'm sorry oh no.

_{[There there, the zombie can't bite the tip of your tail off anymore, see?]}

You did good--excellent timing on our parts, really. Easy. We're fine. It's all f--

_{[The bang cuts him off in the middle of his obvious bid to smooth a layer of optimism icing over top of this shit cake. Oh, Andraste's flaming knickerweasels. Forgetting the body, he returns to the window, parting the blinds just enough to let him peer through the slit.

It had been his hope to dump the remains on the front stoop again so they were not trapped in a house with it, but there's currently no room on said stoop for any more bodies with the bodies already mingling on it--and more on the way.]}

Uh, okay. It's still fine. Let's just... keep our voices down and don't panic.

_{[A shadow passes along the front window before a palm slaps the glass. It's Anders' turn to very nearly startle.

All right, things could be better. They could be worse, but they could definitely be better.]}

Edited 2017-08-05 09:19 (UTC)

[Alphys crams her hands over her mouth to stop herself from yelling, sinking down to the floor curled up tight as the figures move around the windows. This, this right here? This is the nightmare scenario. This is garbage hell supreme.

She moves her hands from her mouth just enough so she can whisper, but it's barely audible.]

Do you think-- is there a b-back door or something? Somewhere they're not??

_{[The next slap of the glass sounds suspiciously like a nail being driven into a pair of coffins. Yeah, he's definitely giving up his window vigil.

Mindful of keeping his footfalls light on the hardwood parts of the floor so his boots don't scrape, he carefully backs away, moving at a sideways angle to get closer to Alphys where she's made herself a reptilian-shaped ball against the wall.

The urge to run is always in him in some respect, a vibrating live wire at the core of his being. A gift from the Circle he'll probably never wash himself of. With danger going from possibility to a tangible hot puff of breath on the back of his neck, the urge is almost overpowering--but he can't just pick up and go. He's not alone here; he has Alphys to consider.]}

One way to find out.

_{[He holds a hand out to her to pull her to her feet. There's no such thing as being too cautious with these kinds of beasts; they should get gone now while the getting's still good.]}

[She's shaking worse as they barrage the windows, and for a moment, she thinks Anders is just going to bolt. She wouldn't blame him, if she's being honest-- she's not a protector, even if she wants to be, and sometimes when the going gets tough you just gotta get out. But his hand enters her vision, and she smiles just a little, trying to keep the reassurance that she's not getting left behind in mind.

She nods, takes his hand, and tries to stop herself from vibrating straight through the wall.]

Okay.

[Alphys points furtively to another exit of the room, further back into the house in a hope that there might be another exit-- or at least a window of some sort they can shimmy out of.]

_{[Damn the Joining. More than just the taint, it seems to have infected him with all these ideas of heroism, blegh.

This is not exactly true, and those ideas started much earlier in life than his recruitment into the Wardens, but reputations must be maintained, you understand. A heavy, almost amiable sigh after he helps hoist Alphys to her feet is out of place and detracts from the sense of direness that's found a home in a knot between his eyebrows.]}

We'll just have to go house-hopping again. _{[A little optimism for flavor never hurt anyone.]} All this running about means we've met our daily exercise quota for sure.

_{[His voice remains low, pitched at a level to avoid detection, as he takes up his bag of water and supplies and makes sure it's snug against his body before taking the lead, double-checking that Alphys is close behind.

The door shudders, one too many bodies pressing against it. A curl of unease down his spine shudders with it.]}

Aaaand off we go, lickety split. I don't care to find out how many friends they've brought over for a house party.

[She wants to laugh, to enjoy his jokes, to push this off as something unreal and that they’ll definitely get out of. She has no reason to believe she won’t make it- Wonderland hasn’t killed her yet in well over a year- but there’s no reason to say it won’t, or that she should somehow relax. The door groans, and she’s only reminded of why they need to go, effective immediately.]

M-Me either.

[She scurries behind him, closely, trying to take as few steps as possible as her claws scrape on the wood. Her body shaking isn’t helping as it taps, and she’d hate to be the one that turned this into a real firefight.]

Is there-- is there anyplace around here that’s safe? Is there anywhere we c-could go?

I'm starting to think we should find a roof and just stay there.

_{[Is he joking? At this point, it's hard to say. It's certainly true that the ground seems to be getting more and more chancy with each hour; Anders can't believe the amount of bodies cramming the streets like ants swarming food left out in the open.

They're the food, which makes the comparison all the more queasy.

A narrow hall leads to a series of small, cramped rooms in the single family home they'd taken shelter in, the tick tick tick of Alphys' claws like kitten claws following along behind. The bang bang bang of undead hands evokes a somewhat less appealing association. Oh, Maker, please don't let them end up zombie food...

Marking the end of the hall is the door into the backyard. Anders peers out the door's square pane of glass.]}

Well, I have some good news and bad news. The good news is they haven't found their way back here yet. The bad news is there's a fence.

[Honestly, Alphys made a joke about just putting a hammock in a tree earlier and it's just sounding more and more feasible. Just tie her to a really, really tall pole, and let her take a nap until this is all over. That would just be fuckin ideal.

She steps cautiously after, trying to keep her movements steady, but Anders can hear her skitter every time one of the zombies causes the door to let out a rather loud bang. She doesn't speak again until he does, letting out a little groan and putting her clawed hands on her snout.]

Is it t-tall? Maybe we can just, uh, g-get over it. Or there's a ladder in here??

[The window is a little tall for her, but she cranes her neck up a bit as if she could get any kind of view.]

_{[For someone who'd already made a name for himself as the village scarecrow by his early adolescence ("all leg and no sense" as the First Enchanter had put it once), a couple of fences and garden gates aren't so terrifying--but there's petite Alphys to consider. Could she even reach the top to pull herself over?]}

For you? I'd... guess so. I'll have to boost you--

_{[The crack and shatter of glass from somewhere in the vicinity of the living room rather decides it for them, and Anders tenses without turning around.]}

I mean, I will boost you. I think that's our cue to leave.

_{[Like, now.]}

[She can't help but shriek when the glass shatters, looking around quickly and finally just grabbing a nearby chair. It's rickety, but it's a boost of some kind.]

W-We can use this or something I don't know let's go right now immediately???

[She's gonna run straight into the door, chair and all, if Anders doesn't open it. If he already has, she's full out running as fast as she can with this thing towards the fence, ready to get over as fast as possible.]

_{[--Oh.

All right, they're going to do it like this, then.

Anders does not in fact get more than his hand wrapped around the knob before Alphys is hustling at the door like a lion tamer about to charge her lion with a chair, but manages to partially get it open, arm held aloft over Alphys' head, the rest of him squeezed up against the wall so she can get past him.]}

Remember the first rule of running for your life: don't panic.

_{[That... may be too little, too late, however.

The last one out, he locks and shuts the door behind him, hoping to buy some time. The last thing he sees through the glass pane is a shadow on the wall, cast by a body shambling down the hall they'd just vacated.]}

Is the yard clear?

_{[It'd be a pity to drop down into a kiddie pool full of zombies at this late stage in the game.]}

[Don't panic. Yes, okay, sure, she is not going to panic when they could be ripped to shreds, Anders, listen to yourself dear god. She's sprinting full-force towards the fence, only looking around when he actually speaks to double-check.]

I don't s-see any--

[And then, of course, something pokes it's head around the corner, and Alphys feels herself stop breathing.]

Okay, maybe one, we have to g-go faster!!!!

[Nathaniel might have called out, until.. he realised just what Anders was doing. He'd recognised him from a good distance away (how could he not and had watched him for a few minutes before deciding on approaching.

He pointedly clears his throat to make himself known - and to make it known that he is not a zombie somehow managing to sneak up on him - and hangs back several feet while the mage continues to.. do what he's doing.]

How are your.. experiments coming?

[He assumes this is experiments, and it's hard to feel bad for a creature that would rip both of their throats out with its teeth if it wasn't for the gate between them.]

_{[Nathaniel is not nearly drunk enough to imitate the shuffling gait of a zombie, which is a shame as Anders thinks they all deserve to be a bit drunk right now.

Drunk, and bereft of their sense of smell. Phew, an undead apocalypse smells just terrible.]}

They're coming.

_{[Anders doesn't appear to find anything strange at having a desiccated head snapping its teeth at his fingertips, reaching blindly through the rusted bars of the gate. For once, he's glad to be the one caged up.]}

I'm working on figuring how to subdue them with the least magic possible. I don't think this is what they had in mind when they taught us self-discipline in the Circle.

[After this, Nathaniel is definitely going to need a drink.

With Anders' response, he moves forwards until he draws up beside the mage. He regards the shuffler with the same detached expression with which he might regard a darkspawn - with the knowledge that they were once something he would have recognised, but no longer.

The only thing eerily uncanny about it is that it isn't so far gone to no longer look like it could still be a person.]

I doubt it. [He sounds darkly amused by the idea.] Has your magic been affected, then?

_{[The question finally introduces a note of chagrin into Anders' otherwise noncommittal demeanor. These are his least favorite kinds of events, whether darkspawn or undead, real life or Wonderland life, and never does it do much good to let the depths of his worry show through the surface appearance of preparedness.

He still has magic. He focuses on that and the zombie ahead of him rather than on what it means that his powers have been weakened, and what it means for them and the rest of this event.]}

Yes. _{[No sense hiding it--he'll be handicapped in a fight and his comrades ought to know that.]} My mana reserves aren't what they should be, and neither is my spell power.

Since you had to ask, you haven't felt any different, then?

[Likewise, they are not Nathaniel's favourite type of event either. They are the kinds of events where more people get hurt, or killed, when the abilities they might use to save themselves or others become useless.

Arms crossed loosely across his chest, he watches the zombie in front of them with his lips pressed into a thin line, then shakes his head slightly.]

Not that I've noticed. [He glances to Anders, his eyebrows lifting.] But none of my abilities draw on magic.

[Nathaniel hesitates, then sighs.]

Are you going to be alright?

I suppose you'd notice if you suddenly went near-sighted or lost your bow fingers.

_{[He smiles benignly at his own joke. One thing remains at maximum output: Anders' ability to make light of anything and everything. Even their dicey chances of survival in an alien, modern town during a zombie invasion. (Seriously, where's a trebuchet when you need one? Get with it, modern age.)

Flicking his fingers like he's flicking a paper ball across the distance, he sends a slightly stronger zap of electricity at the zombie's head. It stumbles back, disoriented, with skin visibly blackening around its forehead, but still alive. Or more like "alive."]}

I have you to protect me, don't I? A big, strong Warden such as yourself shouldn't have any problems whisking little ol' me to safety should the need arise.

Mm, I don't think that kind of thing would escape me.

[His tone is dry, but it comes along with a faintly amused smile. If there is something he had come to miss in his time with the wardens, it was Anders' sense of humour. Being part of the Order has its way of ensuring you either make light of things or become entirely too grim, but Anders is on an entirely different level.

Nathaniel watches with undisguised interest as the mage works, albeit likely not to the level he would wish to.]

Of course, Anders. [He says then, narrowing his eyes on the creature his friend is taunting. His tone turns wry.] Though I wouldn't count on any whisking.

_{[Hm... Well, you know what they say, you can't bake a cake without breaking a few eggs. In this case, he just has to perfect the right voltage in this recipe.

Such careful use of his mana might work for one or two, but a whole horde...? Hm. Time will tell. These walls weren't meant to withstand a siege; anyone from a world who's ever experienced a siege could see that. That's another thing that worries him.]}

Oh, come on. I'm lighter than I look. You shouldn't have any problems lifting me.

_{[He's imagining a bridal hold. Probably in an emergency it'd be more like a fireman's hold.]}

Do you really want to take the chance on finding out?

[He takes a small step back from the gate. Those things look determined, and he doesn't want to be on the receiving end of a bite unless he absolutely can't help it.

In terms of rescue, Anders would be very lucky if he didn't just throw him up over one shoulder and run.]

What about Hawke? Is he having the same problem?

You mean do I wish for an opportunity to play the damsel? Doesn't everyone in a skirt have big dreams of being swept off their feet?

_{[There you go, just for you, Nathaniel--a skirt joke, your favorite. If they're going to be eaten alive by zombies in the next couple of days, he'll go out having giving Nathaniel a gift. You may take this moment to thank him for being a good friend... or maybe move a little further back from the gate, because the next blast of lightning he sends between the bars doesn't fail to dispose of its mark this time.

There's a little bit of splatter. It's gross. Welcome to their new reality for the time being. Honestly, it just makes Anders just want to walk up to Michonne and Clementine and shake their hands for being such troopers in the face of too much bodily fluids, too little soap.]}

No clue! _{[This is accompanied by a shrug as he joins Nathaniel in turning away from the gate.]} We don't talk that much.

_{[It's a curious aspect of his nature--he can flutter around, a social butterfly with something to say to everyone, and manage not to make a single deep connection even with people from his own world.

(Plus, he really has nothing to say to a mage who shacks up with a templar, retired from active duty or not, which is a whole other shit show. He'd rather deal with the zombies.)]}

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

OPEN | you think i'm dead but

Day 2!

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day 3!

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Day 2~

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