open } choose your words and etch them on your soul make them heard when crowds drown out your call

[transmutate]

Who: Edward, Georgia, YOU
Where: Actual Hell
When: over the course of the event
Rating: PG-13, possibly verging into R
Summary: Ed's arm and leg and superpowers don't work, but that's not going to stop him. ....or yes, actually, it is. Meanwhile Georgia's going to interview the shit out of everything.
The Story:

Ed

[Edward wakes up and everything is definitely even more wrong than it's been ever since he arrived here. They're clearly somewhere... different, not somewhere he knows from home or from Wonderland. He starts to stand up, ready to try and figure out what's going on, but before he can get very far, he flops over as his automail arm doesn't react to his mental commands.]

What...?

[Ed tries to move it again, to know avail. He pushes himself up with his left arm, then tries to move his leg. It works, right up until he gets to the automail part. He tries to move his toes and they don't react at all. His leg may as well be a metal block for all the reactivity he's getting from it.]

No, no, this can't happen now!

[He claps his left hand against his limp right hand and touches it to the back of the limb, trying to at least straighten it into a more useful position. Nothing.]

What? No.

[He claps again and touches the ground, with no result.]

NO!

[Eventually, he forms a makeshift sling for his useless automail arm and finds a stick long enough to help him hobble around. But alchemy still isn't working, even when he draws a circle rather than clapping. It doesn't stop him from leaving the settlement area, but it does keep him from going very far. Because he literally can't. His leg and arm are never very light, but they're not doing anything but weighing him down like this. It's impossible, and he's weak and helpless and he hates it.]

Georgia

[There's an itch Georgia has that never goes away. She's had it ever since she took her first journalism class, maybe even since before that. The News is an addiction, one that generally leads to pain, frustration, and ratings that aren't as good as the people who put on a show rather than tell the truth, but it's one she can't kick. The truth is out there, and it will set you free.

Of course, there's a hell of a lot of monsters between her and the truth right now, and her gun and tape recorder both don't work. Not that it's going to stop her. She's never craved danger like Shaun does, but she's no coward. Sometimes getting to the truth involves a hell of a lot of taking risks.

So she's quick to wander out of the compound, armed with nothing but a notepad, a pen, and a heavy stick, ready to find out everything she can about this strange place.]

Comments

for Georgia; this will go well........ ;o;

[shorthair]

[Clementine has been surviving. She sticks to the compound, because there are the sounds of monsters outside of it. This is an Event. Ordinarily, she's learned sticking in one place is dangerous. She can't make a home out of it, but most events don't last longer than a week so that's enough time to fortify, hold out against the bad, make sure they have enough water. Maybe food but that's secondary.

It's about making it until then. She hardly recognizes how much more on edge she has been. Her gun doesn't work but her ax does. She had both on her like she usually does in their holsters (always armed). She's kept a constant grip on it. It's not holstered.

She's on the outskirt of the compound when she sees Georgia headed out of it where it's not safe.]

What the hell are you doing?

OH BOY

[choosetruth]

My job. [Georgia doesn't slow down. She waves her notebook.] News doesn't stop for events, and neither do I.

[shorthair]

You're going to get yourself killed. [Clementine doesn't slow down either. She grips hold of the ax. Normally, she might be more worried (more emotional) if it weren't for this place, bringing out the sharp survivor, all edges, violent and ready.] It's not safe out there, and you're walking out into it alone.

[choosetruth]

I won't be alone when my idiot brother gets his head out of his ass. [And Shaun will, she has no doubt, for as much as they're fighting right now she knows he'll always have her back.] And I'm not planning on doing anything stupid.

[shorthair]

It doesn't matter what you plan.

[and here's the thing clementine promised to take her out if it came to that. she meant it. she'll keep it. she doesn't want to have to.] Georgia, you're from a world like- somewhat like mine, you have to know that. This world doesn't give a shit about your plans.

[choosetruth]

That's why I brought the club. [It's not her weapon of choice, but it's simple enough that she should be able to use it for defense at least.] As you said, I'm from a world like yours. I do stuff like this all the time. It's literally my job.

[Well, technically doing stuff specifically for the sake of danger is Shaun's job. Georgia ends up in danger more often than non-journalists, but it's not like she seeks it out. Usually. Also she usually has a gun.]

[shorthair]

That club isn't going to save you. There are big monsters out there, and they want to eat you. [She can hear them roaring even from here. People return to the village with their scrapes and bites.

Her hand grips more tightly to her ax as she studies the horizon. The ground shakes. She tries to place herself in front of Georgia (but what is she? Clementine is no hero. She's a survivor even if that means leaving other people to die).] Your job is to die? This isn't your world. It's not mine either, and a club is a shitty weapon even against a walker and what's out there is worse.

[choosetruth]

[She smiles, faintly and a little sad. Georgia never set out to be a martyr. She set out to find a story. But she's not a survivor, she's a journalist, and she doesn't know when to quit and she doesn't think she could make any other choices even if she had the opportunity. Even now, her fingers itch to finish things even knowing what will happen.]

My job is to follow the stories. Sometimes that means risking death.

for george of course

[postictal]

[Luckily for Georgia and unluckily for one Timothy Wright, here's one persons-shaped mystery on the horizon - or, more specifically, here comes Tim, running for his goddamned life as a massive goatlike kangaroo thing with ram's horns comes bounding after him.

He glimpses someone just ahead, and he doesn't give his heart time to plummet to his feet in disappointed exasperation. He simply flaps a hand at George, sucking in a wheezing breath long enough to bellow out a frantic yelp of:]

Move! Move!

[choosetruth]

[He doesn't need to tell her twice. She's got a club, but her upper body strength isn't enough that she's ready to play baseball with a goat-kangaroo's head.]

What the fuck did you do?

[She starts running. She misses having a working gun so badly.]

[postictal]

Apparently? Found out where it lives.

[He only pauses briefly to glance over his shoulder before kicking up dirt his frenzy to scramble away from the thing.]

Did I know anything lived there? No!

[choosetruth]

[She doesn't waste time giving him a skeptical look, but the fact is, he lies enough that she isn't sure she believes him.

Doesn't matter. She doesn't want either of them to die, and that means no time to waste arguing.]

Head for the river.

[It's made of acid and could be a good way to get rid of a tail. At least, assuming they can find a way to cross themselves.]

[postictal]

[He doesn't need telling twice. He makes for the river directly, scanning the length of it in search for a protruding branch or rock or log they could use to cross. When none seems to be forthcoming, he braces himself to make a leap or a painful slog.]

No way across unless we make a jump.

[choosetruth]

I have really got to stop hanging out with you.

[She's pretty sure he wouldn't disagree. She wishes she had her bike right now, but the physics of this are roughly the same. Keep moving. Don't hesitate. Hope that gravity, which never has much love for the terminally stupid, cooperates. swing your hands back and launch yourself forward and--

--she lands, knees jarring enough that she stumbles, but stumbles forward, thankfully, and keeps moving, only sparing a glance back to see if Tim's still alive.]

[postictal]

[He'd say this wasn't his fault, but it probably is in some way, and in any case - he really can't disagree with her. He charges forward even as his lungs ache with the effort. He doesn't hesitate - if he stops, he loses momentum. He launches himself into the air in an attempt to clear the gap.

He mostly makes it. One foot slips on a puddle of acid, burning the sole of his shoe, and he hisses in annoyance, but he keeps scrambling onward. He can't waste time worrying about what happens if it eats through to his foot.]

Let's hope it doesn't like jumping.

[choosetruth]

Let's hope.

[She spares a glance at the hiss but keeps running. She's made a career of outrunning zombies, and speed is one of the only things living humans have in their favor in that battle. Well, that and bullets, but those aren't working right now.]

Don't stop to find out!

[Wait til the sounds of being pursued die down. If they die down. Hopefully they'll die down.]

Hi George

[adaptiveimmunities]

[Shaun is frustrated, and only part of that is the irritating lack of technology. He's pissed about the gun and the recording devices, sure, but he's even more irritated that George insists on going out there anyway. Shaun has been an Irwin for a long time, and the fact that he's still alive, despite plenty of close calls means that he's pretty good at it.

A lot of being a good Irwin means being prepared. They are not prepared to venture out into this hellscape and get answers from the locals.]

Damn it, George, I'm not saying we need to stay holed up here for however long this lasts, but maybe a notepad and a big stick aren't the best tools for this job.

[choosetruth]

They're the best tools we have.

[George scowls at him, bracing the club on her shoulder. She doesn't like that he's disagreeing with her about this. It makes her feel like she's being the reckless one, and that's his job. It's not like she wants to go out into danger for the fun of it. She just wants to--needs to--get the story, and that means going into the field.]

Do you have a better idea? [This is his area of expertise.] Because I'm all ears.

[adaptiveimmunities]

Do you even know how to use a club? [His tone is more than a little impatient. Sure, it's just swing and hit, but you have to have the power to back it up, and George is strong enough, but she's not exactly a powerhouse, and if they're facing demons she's going to need more than just a heavy blunt instrument.

He's not going to lose her again.]

Maybe think about sharpening a stick?

[choosetruth]

Yes, cause turning this place into a hot zone will be an improvement. [The monster blood probably isn't infected, but George's blood certainly is, and she doesn't trust there not to be accidents when wielding an unfamiliar weapon.]

You do realize that I'm not actually planning on fighting anything, right? This is a just in case club. I used one in-- [She grimaces.] Neverland.

[And boy oh boy does she love pulling on skills gained during a magical event that messed with her mind. Still, it might keep her alive.]

[adaptiveimmunities]

Oh, great idea. Rely on the skills you magically gained as a teenage sociopath. I'm sure nothing can possibly go wrong with that. How's your muscle memory for swinging a club, Georgia?

[choosetruth]

[Oh, she's Georgia now. He's really mad. But so is she.]

Better than my muscle memory for poking monsters with pointy sticks. It's not hard, Shaun. It's a blunt instrument, and you swing it.

[adaptiveimmunities]

[Yes, because she's being uncharacteristically reckless right now, and it's kind of pissing him off.

He rolls his eyes.]

Well, you could consider giving the guy who is kind of an expert at poking things with sticks a few minutes to sharpen one so I can play backup.

But sure if you want to run off half cocked and get yourself killed again, be my guest.

Because I'm greedy and want all your CR... aka for Ed

[atanycost]

[ Rick's pretty well used to things being wrong with a capital W, which is not to say he's not a little rattled when he realizes that the mansion has done exactly what people warned him about. Apparently it's changed on them, and they're no longer in the mansion.

Exactly where this is, he isn't sure, but the fastest way to figure things out is to start walking. He doesn't get far before he encounters a short kid who appears to be in some kind of distress. Even though his own son isn't here, Rick can't quite turn off his innate fatherly instincts, so he approaches slowly, hoping not to startle Ed or upset him any more than he already is. ]

Hey, you all right?

[ He doesn't really look it, what with the sling and the stick and the hobbling, but he also knows people have different definitions for "all right". ]

I APPROVE OF THIS PLAN

[transmutate]

Fine, fine! Never been better! Not like I need to be able to walk properly or use my arm!

[It's pretty obviously not true, but it's hard to tell if he's trying to fool anyone or just being sarcastic. He's not really sure himself.]

I can still kick your ass with only one arm and leg, so don't try anything!

[This much, is pretty obviously untrue. But he's not about to back down now.]