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keephersafe) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
entrancelogs2017-08-09 08:45 pm
keephersafe) wrote in entrancelogs2017-08-09 08:45 pm
[OPEN]
Who: R and you~
Where: Outside around the grounds
When: 9/8
Rating: PG-13 (will edit if needed)
Summary: The zombie is exploring his surroundings properly, after his second event in Wonderland. Will match format. Please no headshots.
The Story:
When he had first found himself in this place, it had not been in the best of circumstances. Coming back to yourself surrounded by dead bodies is, as a zombie, not the most pleasant places to be. After that, making sure he kept away from the Living and didn't get shot in the head had taken priority while he took the time to process his new situation.
Someone kinder than he had come to expect had shown him how to use the phone he had, but most of the time it sat unused in the room he had set up a small, minimalist base in. It wasn't like him not to hoard things, but the suddenness of his situation and his concern with the constant, near-overpowering smell of Living people took far higher priority than snowglobes and 12" vinyls. For a while, he hadn't dared to venture out at all, but the second upheaval ('event'?) pushed him to realise that whether or not he wanted it, he was going to be drawn into being involved in this place.
It is that thought that has him in the gardens in the early morning, when the grass and flowers are still wet with dew. It's safer, he reasons, when people are less likely to be around and he doesn't have to battle against the Hunger that has only been growing more insistent with his loss of direction. He hasn't spoken to anyone in days now, and it's beginning to show.
His progress down the garden paths is deliberately slow, almost casual in its slowness but only to hide the occasional slide into shuffling. He's cleaner than he was, but a shower and a change of clothes do little to disguise what he really is if you get too close... or if you have former experience of zombies.
Where: Outside around the grounds
When: 9/8
Rating: PG-13 (will edit if needed)
Summary: The zombie is exploring his surroundings properly, after his second event in Wonderland. Will match format. Please no headshots.
The Story:
When he had first found himself in this place, it had not been in the best of circumstances. Coming back to yourself surrounded by dead bodies is, as a zombie, not the most pleasant places to be. After that, making sure he kept away from the Living and didn't get shot in the head had taken priority while he took the time to process his new situation.
Someone kinder than he had come to expect had shown him how to use the phone he had, but most of the time it sat unused in the room he had set up a small, minimalist base in. It wasn't like him not to hoard things, but the suddenness of his situation and his concern with the constant, near-overpowering smell of Living people took far higher priority than snowglobes and 12" vinyls. For a while, he hadn't dared to venture out at all, but the second upheaval ('event'?) pushed him to realise that whether or not he wanted it, he was going to be drawn into being involved in this place.
It is that thought that has him in the gardens in the early morning, when the grass and flowers are still wet with dew. It's safer, he reasons, when people are less likely to be around and he doesn't have to battle against the Hunger that has only been growing more insistent with his loss of direction. He hasn't spoken to anyone in days now, and it's beginning to show.
His progress down the garden paths is deliberately slow, almost casual in its slowness but only to hide the occasional slide into shuffling. He's cleaner than he was, but a shower and a change of clothes do little to disguise what he really is if you get too close... or if you have former experience of zombies.
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The thing about Wonderland, though, about going so many months, almost a year, without an outbreak outside of events, is it's made her start to let down her guard. Not entirely, of course. You can't grow up the way she did and even know how to let down your guard entirely. But enough that she's actually relaxing.
Right up until opens her eyes and sees a zombie slowly shuffling down the path.]
Fuck!
[She slams her sunglasses back onto her face and reaches for her gun, cursing herself for carelessness. As she positions herself, her mind does start to register some inconsistencies. Why is the zombie moving so slowly? Why hasn't he attacked?
No matter. She's not getting eaten today anyway, She steadies herself and raises her gun to line up the headshot.]
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She swears, and he stops, swaying back as his foot fails to fall mid-step. Her weapon comes up and his eyes follow it, widening slightly (he realises then that he very much does not want to be shot, and is somewhat surprised by the misplaced sense of self-preservation). His hands come up, fingers loose, and he deliberately clears his throat.]
D--- Don't shoot.
[The words feel like sandpaper in his throat. He wonders if he should talk to himself when he's not talking to other people, just to keep his vocal cords loose. In his experience, Living people don't tend to handle the whole groaning thing too well, and on the whole he's pretty proud of those two syllables.
He would really like to not be shot.]
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She'd say it's impossible, but well. It's Wonderland. She's seen invisible zombies. Talking zombies aren't that much of a stretch, even if it's impossible in her world.
She doesn't lower the gun. She also doesn't take her finger off the trigger.]
If so much as twitch in a way I don't like I will. How the fuck are you talking?
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He isn't sure if taking his hands down is going to be the kind of twitch she doesn't like, but he does it slowly, subconsciously straightening his shoulders as he does. R watches her warily, frowning slightly before he answers.]
The same way.. that you do.
[You think, and words come out. That's how it is, isn't it? He glances away, another thought occurring to him.]
Just slower. Like... [Here, he makes the tiniest motion of a shrug. How do you explain stalls in thought processes that you don't even understand?] Some words get.. lost. On the way out.
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[Unless he's from another world. Or unless science has just missed this.
She hopes not. She isn't anymore willing to let someone eat her than she was before, but she'd rather not have that much blood of thinking people on her hands. She prefers fighting with words rather than bullets, but that's not possible with zombies.
It can't be possible with zombies.]
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Yeah.
[But he's always been stubborn. So many like him no longer make words, or anything that could be mistaken for words. They shamble, silent save for groans and grunting, and he has often wondered what their thoughts might be like. Do they have as lively an internal commentary as he does?]
My f.. friends think I'm.. strange, too.
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[Seems important to establish. Because she's pretty sure any human would think he's strange. Even if he wasn't talking. The whole zombie thing.
She hasn't lowered her gun. But she's a journalist. There's no way she's shooting him now, not til she has the story.]
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[Okay, he'll give her that one. He isn't sure he can call Julie a friend, but he's going to keep her on the list because giving up on that just stings too much to think about.
R gives a small shrug, and picks at the cuff of his sweater.]
Don't.. feel it so much.. lately.
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Are you telling me you're on a diet?
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No.
[R can see a tiny version of himself in her sunglasses. It's no wonder she's afraid. Even when he's cleaned up, he still looks dead.]
Just.. not hungry.
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[The only times zombies weren't hungry in her experience was when they'd just eaten, and then they still want to spread the virus. Hungry zombies are actually less dangerous than the ones who are trying to convert you. Hungry zombies will just kill you. Other zombies spit or claw or do whatever it takes to induce amplification.]
What happens when you do get hungry? You still going to be this coherent?
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He glances aside, and nods his head towards a nearby bench.]
I'm going.. to sit there.. okay? [Still barely moving, his attention is trained on the gun.]
This.. looks suspicious.
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[She doesn't care how suspicious it looks. She knows how fast zombies are. Fast enough he could kill her easily if she let her guard down, but not fast enough to evade a bullet aimed directly at his head.]
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[Reasonable. R sits down, as far along the bench away from her as is possible for him to be, and briefly grips the edge of the wooden seat with both hands. It's been-- Well, no. He's never actually sat and had an actual conversation with someone while they pointed a gun at him.
Usually, the conversation part is skipped over.
He glances over to her. She asked him a question, and he wades through increasingly soupy thoughts to find it again.
What happens when you do get hungry?]
Hunger isn't... [This is going to be difficult. Briefly, he looks frustrated with himself. Oral eloquence has never been one of his strong points and he could really use it right now.] Not the right word.
[Ugh. And? Come on, R.]
But.. some of us-- are changing. Were changing.
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[She doesn't say it out of concern for his health, of course. If he starved to death she wouldn't weep for a minute, any more than she would if she put the bullet into his skull right now. But it's a fact of life for all creatures, virus-ridden or not. If zombies don't eat, they'll starve to their second and final death. They can't just change into not being hungry. It doesn't make sense.]
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It's just his luck that there are some who have prior zombie experience.]
... No, I don't.
[As he denies her a confirmation, he feels the resolve coil inside himself. Here, without Julie, he could have been lost. He could have given in to the Hunger again, but he didn't.. and it wasn't her, it was him. He didn't want to.]
I don't.. have to.
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Bullshit. If you don't eat, how do you stay alive? Photosynthesis? Sheer force of will?
no subject
Don't know.
[A flippant voice in the back of his mind points out that he's not alive, and her argument is flawed, but it doesn't make it to his mouth. This is the case with most of his thoughts, but he's rather glad for it this time.]
... What are you g.. going to do?
[He doesn't expect she'll stand there with the gun forever. Eventually, she'll have to decide her next move.]
no subject
[She doesn't lower the gun, though at this point it is less and less likely she'll shoot him. He's still a zombie. As long as he's within range, she's holding her gun on him.]
You say you're not planning on eating anyone. Fine. What are you planning on doing? Where in the mansion are you staying? What do you intend to do about the people who are not as quick on the uptake as I am? Because believe me, there are a lot of people who will shoot you on sight.
no subject
Then she asks a lot of questions, and as each one is fired at him his expression becomes more and more bewildered. His capacity to answer enquiries only stretches to one at a time, usually, and while he gets her point, when she gets to the end of her speech he does the first thing that his frayed instincts tell him to do.
He shrugs again.]
... Used to that.
[People that will shoot him on sight, that is. He imagines that, at some point, he'll probably get shot. He'll probably be permanently put down. He doesn't like the idea, but he understands it as a definite possibility.]
Been shot at.. a lot.
no subject
Good for you, but I suspect you're usually not confined to an area this small. You need to explain the situation to the rest of the residents.
no subject
[What? Is she saying what he thinks she's saying? He goes over what he thought he heard again, just to make sure he processed it correctly.]
... Don't... think that's a good... idea.
no subject
You know what the one thing I like even less than zombies is? Liars.
no subject
...
[R, say something. Don't just stare at her like an idiot.]
... What?
[Way to go, genius.]
no subject
Do you intend to attempt to pass yourself off as alive?
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