VALENTINE'S DAY CATCH ALL 12th-17th

[tom_hanniger]

Who: Anyone and everyone who wants to participate
Where: Literally every corner of the known universe
When: Again with the questions...
Rating: BIG BIG HORRIBLE WARNING LOTS OF DEATH AND FIGHTING AND GRAPHIC EVERYTHING I think you might need an adult...
Summary:

THIS IS A CATCH ALL LOG FOR THE DURATION OF THIS SITUATION

Here's what happens. If you want interaction with HARRY OR TOM, if you want to have a short thread with someone discovering a BODY or someone who is WOUNDED or generally just want some blood and guts it happens in here.

THAT BEING SAID if you want to write a log? Do it. I'm just trying to control the madness in one place...as if that might be easier to manage. It also means the community isn't TOO flooded with bodies and boxes of chocolate so those wanting to bypass this event will have less to look at.

IF YOU ARE A VICTIM, YOU MAY POST YOUR DEATH POST IN HERE
I mean, you can if you want but also feel free to make an independent post. Up to you.

Comment in with a header including date and place for whatever situation you're doing so we can just keep track. I'll do the same.

Questions, comments, plurk or aim or pm me. x

Comments

[ahousedivided]

Unkillable is good for America's emotional well-being too when the alternative is having Daryl yell at him again. His nerves are frayed enough without the added stress of a good friend (one of the few close friends he has actually) refusing to speak to him.

Obediently he rummages through the available cleaning supplies (painstakingly reading the directions on a few of them because what the fuck is even in these things) before joining Daryl in getting the worst of it off. He's had experience getting blood and brain matter and bone (mostly) out of things.

"After this, think we can just set things upright and set stuff aside for her to organize when she's back. Y'know, so nothin' gets put outta place and she won't have to go lookin' once she comes to."

He talks mostly for the sake of talking. It's easier than the shock and questions swirling in his head. Much better than acknowledging the hunger for justice, or vengeance, or worse. He'll deal with that later.

"Good thing no embalming needs to be done, 'cause I hadn't learned that yet. I can cut and stitch just fine, dig a grave if need be, but when it comes to preservation I'm kinda lost. And none of the usual death rituals. I get the need for mourning, I really do, but there's so many ways to deal with it and I just... it's a relief not to for a change.

That a bad way to look at this? I dunno, I'm not used to people comin' back. Not even as undead. Unless you count ghosts but those scare the shit outta me. Don't tell anyone I told you."

[unsleeved]

Normally he's all about silence whether regardless of what he's doing and especially when he's doing something important... But he wouldn't deny that the constant stream of words coming out of America's mouth are helping. Scrubbing this up isn't exactly the best thing to take his mind off of what'd gone on in here, and even though the subject is just as dark as anything he could be thinking about... He responds well to frankness, as usual.

Distance is a good thing.

"Right. Thinkin' this is the first time she's-- Ain't gonna be long." He raises a brow. "Embalmin'... Didn't even think of that. Ain't somethin' we do back in Georgia..." He trails off there, dunking his sponge into the bucket before bringing it back up and giving it a squeeze.

"No such thing as a bad way of lookin' at it. Don't change nothin' anyway--" And then he frowns. "You got ghosts back home?"

Ghosts aren't something he gives much thought to... Ever. Not even here, not even with the specters that'd been everywhere during Christmas. Casper, you aren't even a blip on Daryl's radar.

[ahousedivided]

Having someone to talk to about such grim things is a weird sort of solace that brings about a few pangs of homesickness. It's the sort of peace he finds in talking to Russia, or rather having Russia patiently listen while America fails to keep all of his fears and darkest thoughts in and watching them overspill onto the floor like dirty rain out of a clogged gutter. Not quite comforting, but it relieves the pressure of trying to keep things bottled up all the time.

"First time, right, there's five, right? I need to brush up on that stuff. Not that it applies to me unless an event makes me human, but that ain't the case right now. Definitely don't feel like it."

He scrubs extra hard at a spot trying to make sure, and yep, the wall cracks a bit under his strength. Time to calm down a bit. It helps to hear that Daryl doesn't think he's a complete insensitive freak for looking at the situation with a measure of positivity. Death is always painful, but it doesn't have to be as painful here.

And he even looks placated until the ghost question arises, at which point his almost calm stare twists in disgust.

"I hate ghosts they are always haunting things and need to stop just go be dead if I say they're not real maybe they will go away forever," he whispers harshly. The undead aren't a problem, but ghosts freak him out like nothing else.

[unsleeved]

"I got no idea, dyin's dyin'-- watch that wall." His tone's not as harsh as it could be, though; he can't blame America, if he were strong enough to crack walls with a sponge the whole place would be rubble right now...

The ghost thing makes him quirk a brow, but rather than give America a look he turns to kneel and start working at a small puddle on the floor he hadn't noticed until now.

"Ain't seen any around here since Christmas, don't think you gotta worry about 'em anymore. Not unless there's some kinda bullshit event..." Yep, he's just gonna be mad about the events despite the fact that nothing about this points to it being an event. No warning, nobody coming forward and giving them a heads up...

Then again, the place ain't exactly known for consistency...

[ahousedivided]

Christmas. Right. Aside from the day itself where he ran around eagerly handing out gifts and visiting friends, he'd spent that event hiding from the ghosts and Crowley's cursed mistletoe under his covers while obsessing over Daenerys Targaryen. It was an interesting month.

He frowns and shakes his head. No use worrying about future events, he thinks. There's no telling what they could be or when they'll come. He doesn't want to think what his is going to be. Knowing Wonderland, they'll send him right back to the war he's steeped in and he won't get to hide from his reality anymore, and worse yet he might relapse again. Daryl has already had a close call at America's hands, there's no telling who he could hurt if it's the same sort of stress and if a gun is shoved in his hand, what would happen if all his friends were given the baptism of fire--

Again, no use worrying. He can't bear to think about it anyway. Somehow it's easier to easier the grim task at hand than think about what ifs.

"Gonna have to paint over," he says. His section is as clean as it's going to get, but the pristine wall is stained pink. Surely nothing a doctor like Martha hasn't seen before, but the knowledge that it's her own blood that's seeped into the wall might be a little unnerving. Well. Can't be worse than getting murdered.

His fingers curl around the sponge and he suddenly glares at the wall. "I can't be paintin' while they're still out there."

Which is America lingo for he's going to do something incredibly stupid.

[unsleeved]

MESSAGE RECEIVED; Daryl watches America out of the corner of his eye.

"...I got it. The paintin'." Which isn't to say he's saying go for it- he isn't- but he's aware America's probably more capable of taking this bastard out than most people here. He'd do it himself, but since they have next to no information on who or what this person (?) is, revenge- at least his personal revenge- is gonna have to wait. He knows better than go rush into shit without a plan, and as of right now his plan is...

Get the clinic ready for the bodies that're probably gonna be streaming in.

[ahousedivided]

Soon Daryl will come to realize America is not more capable of taking down the killer, but definitely more capable of surviving the rampage. But that's neither here nor there.

He returns the glace, opening his mouth to ask if Daryl will be okay before deciding against it. He already knows that Daryl will probably say yes, of course he will be, he's survived the apocalypse, but there will be no certainty to it. At the end of the day he's still human, and he's just as vulnerable to whatever is killing people as Martha was. The only way to ensure he and all of America's friends will be safe is to do something about it.

(America shoves aside the insecurities that always tremble in the corner of his mind--How can you possibly help anyone else when you can't even help yourself? Your mind and body are already flimsy, there's no way you can be anyone's hero--because he can't afford to believe any of it right now. There's no room for doubt on a quest for vengeance, he tells himself, and that may be the first glimmer of his future self that he's had in a long time.)

"Be back later," he mutters.

AND OFF HE STOMPS TOWARD HIS HEADLESS FATE.

[unsleeved]

Daryl considers telling him to be careful, or some other sort of absolutely not mother hennish thing, but he doesn't- it pretty much goes without saying, come on.

What he does do is keep at the scrubbing, wiping, and eventually yes, painting.

A NICE ARTSY BREAK BEFORE THE CARNAGE.......