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Entry tags:
[Open] Zombie apocalypse, AHOY
Who: Unnamed & YOU
Which: Open log
Where: Reverein & dreamscape
What: Unnamed has a dream about his home....a zombie apocalypse :')
Warnings: Pandemics, disease, undead, mild gore...bc they zombies
Dream - cw zombies, mild gore, pandemics, disease
[ The dream begins with a city of towering buildings. Skyscrapers as tall as any world of modern civilization, built so that they could touch the clouds if only the right weather permitted it. City stretches as far as they eye can see. It's a marvel and a feat of engineering, creating the impression of a cast society...until the details of the image become clearer.
The vast buildings are battered and broken. The city is not pristine, but ravaged by time and nature. Some of the skyscrapers have toppled, their inside burnt out by some long-gone calamity. Others lean precariously to one side, whole sections of its floors missing. This metropolis...is nothing more than ruins.
Roads are flooded; their signs overtaken by wild growth. There are cars, worn and rusted and broken. Dozens upon dozens litter the streets. Some have their windows smashed in. Others, it's as if something has broken its way out.
Potholes and debris are everywhere. Storefronts have been looted and lay ruined or boarded up. There are barriers over what could have once been strongholds, old stores; banks; park gates. Disrepair is everywhere.
Something has happened in the city. Something very, very wrong.
Little clues can be found here and there in the form of graffiti on the walls: NO WAY OUT some say; others read SHELTER AHEAD, long-since crossed out. Several of the houses have old Search & Rescue marks on them, the red of their paint long since faded and worn. The numbers, for those that understand them, are clear: 5DB, IF. Dead Bodies. Infection.
The dream starts there. An empty house, broken and cold; the scent of damp mildew lingering in the air. There are old photos on the walls, but their surfaces are caked with dirt and grime. Some are broken and the pictures inside are all but rotted away. The kitchen table is broken in two down the middle, as if from a large impact. The front door lies flat in the entrance. There are scratch marks in the rotted wood. Something tried to claw its way in--and succeeded.
There's a stifling, isolated feeling which permeates the dream...right up until a (perhaps familiar) sound comes from behind: ]
...Auh?
[ Unnamed blinks at your character: dishevelled and dirty, clothes in tatters...but most of all, confused. What are you doing in his world?? ]
[ ooc; WELCOME TO ZOMBOI'S HOME WORLD, Y'ALL. It sucks 8') And it's filled with zombies! (the slow-moving kind). Feel free to dreamhop as normal or as one of the infected! Wanna be a zombie? GO FOR IT. Zombies will ignore other Infected & leave them alone, but if you'd like them to respond to your character as food...that is also fine. You can also tag as if post-dream (aka your character saw the recording) and went to find him after.
FOLLOW YOUR HEART. hmu on![[plurk.com profile]](https://plurk.com/favicon.ico)
owlits if you have any questions/wanna plot/etc
EDIT: it is also 100% optional for dream!zombies to recognize your character as food!! they could ignore them, not notice them, be indifferent to them, etc. Horror threads are not a must c: ]
Which: Open log
Where: Reverein & dreamscape
What: Unnamed has a dream about his home....a zombie apocalypse :')
Warnings: Pandemics, disease, undead, mild gore...bc they zombies
Dream - cw zombies, mild gore, pandemics, disease
[ The dream begins with a city of towering buildings. Skyscrapers as tall as any world of modern civilization, built so that they could touch the clouds if only the right weather permitted it. City stretches as far as they eye can see. It's a marvel and a feat of engineering, creating the impression of a cast society...until the details of the image become clearer.
The vast buildings are battered and broken. The city is not pristine, but ravaged by time and nature. Some of the skyscrapers have toppled, their inside burnt out by some long-gone calamity. Others lean precariously to one side, whole sections of its floors missing. This metropolis...is nothing more than ruins.
Roads are flooded; their signs overtaken by wild growth. There are cars, worn and rusted and broken. Dozens upon dozens litter the streets. Some have their windows smashed in. Others, it's as if something has broken its way out.
Potholes and debris are everywhere. Storefronts have been looted and lay ruined or boarded up. There are barriers over what could have once been strongholds, old stores; banks; park gates. Disrepair is everywhere.
Something has happened in the city. Something very, very wrong.
Little clues can be found here and there in the form of graffiti on the walls: NO WAY OUT some say; others read SHELTER AHEAD, long-since crossed out. Several of the houses have old Search & Rescue marks on them, the red of their paint long since faded and worn. The numbers, for those that understand them, are clear: 5DB, IF. Dead Bodies. Infection.
The dream starts there. An empty house, broken and cold; the scent of damp mildew lingering in the air. There are old photos on the walls, but their surfaces are caked with dirt and grime. Some are broken and the pictures inside are all but rotted away. The kitchen table is broken in two down the middle, as if from a large impact. The front door lies flat in the entrance. There are scratch marks in the rotted wood. Something tried to claw its way in--and succeeded.
There's a stifling, isolated feeling which permeates the dream...right up until a (perhaps familiar) sound comes from behind: ]
...Auh?
[ Unnamed blinks at your character: dishevelled and dirty, clothes in tatters...but most of all, confused. What are you doing in his world?? ]
[ ooc; WELCOME TO ZOMBOI'S HOME WORLD, Y'ALL. It sucks 8') And it's filled with zombies! (the slow-moving kind). Feel free to dreamhop as normal or as one of the infected! Wanna be a zombie? GO FOR IT. Zombies will ignore other Infected & leave them alone, but if you'd like them to respond to your character as food...that is also fine. You can also tag as if post-dream (aka your character saw the recording) and went to find him after.
FOLLOW YOUR HEART. hmu on
EDIT: it is also 100% optional for dream!zombies to recognize your character as food!! they could ignore them, not notice them, be indifferent to them, etc. Horror threads are not a must c: ]
no subject
He throws his arms around Childe's middle in a tight hug, burying his face in the man's chest. ]
Uuuuu....
[ Finally...there's someone else. Someone like him. ]
no subject
But he can tell that Unnamed is upset, his expression softening and returning the hug, rubbing his back a little to reassure him that everything's okay. He's not sure what's wrong, but it's a gesture to let him know he's not alone.
Poor guy, he's taking this a little hard, whatever it is.]
no subject
He's not alone.
It takes several minutes to calm himself down. He doesn't cry or produce any mucus so there's no runny nose, but his lips are trembling all the same when he finally pulls back enough to look up at Childe. Being able to see that Childe really is looking at him, really is responding to him causes him to give just a little bit more of a squeeze.
He doesn't have time to spare a thought for embarrassment over his display when he releases Childe. He's got much more important things to do--and turns to the wall where Childe had drawn his name to do the same. His movements are unsteady and the letters come out a bit crooked and in all caps (much like a child unused to or still learning to write), but he spells out his own name:
NANASHI NORIYUKI.
Hi.
He traces that last little greeting and then turns to Childe, offering him a small, tentative smile. He waves. ]
no subject
He watches as Unnamed spells his name out, waves hello, and he lets a hand rest on his hip. Nanashi Noriyuki, that's a start. The Harbinger gives him a nod, offering a wave of his own hand in greeting. But he also hasn't forgotten what he was doing, and that was looking for the scent of humans- and the scent of battle. He writes on the wall again:
Let's go.
So he gestures for Unnamed to follow, so that they could get out of here.
There's nothing in here for them anyway, so there's no need to stay. All the really exciting stuff is somewhere else, and he aims to find it.]
no subject
[ Onward. He has no idea where Childe wants to lead him, but at this moment? He would follow him anywhere. He's so used to be the one leading things that he can't help but fidget with anticipation and excitement as where they might be going. Does Childe know some fun place they could go? Something cool to look at? What sorts of things does he do if he's like him?
He has so many question he wants to ask...!
In lieu of trying to telepathy or babble his way through random noises, he reaches out and catches the other man's hand with his with a grin. ]
Auh.
[ LEAD HIM ANYWHERE, his bright eyes seem to say as he swings their hands back and forth. ]
no subject
Leading the younger boy out of the house, he starts down the road and further into the neighborhood, keeping a sharp attention on his senses as he smells for their next meal. After some time of walking down the street, a particular smell catches his attention, and he looks at Nanashi with a confident smile.
He's found what he's looking for, at least he thinks he has.
Childe begins to head towards another house, one that seems to have been boarded up. But the Harbinger is strong, and he lets go of Nanashi's hand to put his whole fist through one such boarded up window, wood shattering and splintering every which way. And he doesn't stop until most of that wood is broken away, his arm wrecked, but he can't feel it.
He gestures to climb in. He'll even help him up if he needs it.]
no subject
His spirits are high as they head over to a house with a...strangely familiar smell, even though for some reason he's certain it should be the first time he's smelled it. It's an odd sense of déjà vu, but one he doesn't focus on for long as Childe promptly punches his way through the barricade.
To anyone else, the state of Childe's arm would be cause for alarm (no rhyme intended). For Unnamed? It's as common a sight as the sun in the sky. There's hardly any people in his world without some sort of injury. He spares a moment to check the Harbinger's face for discomfort, but all he sees there is a smile and reassurance.
He grins back and nods, all-too-eager to see where the now-open window leads; he grabs the edge of the windowsill with both hands and starts to heft himself up...but yes. A hand or two would be appreciated. ]
no subject
Childe begins his shamble across the floor, going through a living room to find a door that's closed. He grunts at it, looking it over. The smell is coming from inside, and he only debates for a second before he starts slamming into it, grunting more with the effort. It's pretty solid, and clearly barricaded from the inside, but he doesn't give up. The Harbinger glances at Unnamed to help him, so they can get this door down and have their dinner.
What he doesn't see is a human that's at the top of the stairs, watching the two zombies trying to break into a room where another survivor is, armed with a weapon that they're training on them...]
no subject
[ So they've got to get in there to find what they're looking for, huh? That seems easy enough--he's found a bunch of doors like this one before; doors that don't want to move or budge, or whose handles won't turn. Sometimes, when other people take interest in doors like this they do the exact same thing as Childe and it eventually opens--so he sees little flaw in Childe's efforts or logic and goes to join him.
He doesn't ram it like Childe, but he does place both hands on the door and push, trying to force it to open--when a loud shot rings out, peppering the door above their heads with bullet holes and raining splinters down upon them.
None of this Unnamed hears, of course. ]
no subject
The splinters and wood that fall onto his head sends alarms ringing through his mind, and as fast as a zombie can turn, he looks up to see the person at the top training their weapon on them again. The barrel of the weapon doesn't seem to be pointed at him though, it seems to fall downward to aim at the zombie that's still trying to get into the door that didn't hear the first gunshot.
They're going for...
He moves, putting himself between the gun and the boy, just as another shot rings out to slam into his chest. Childe feels his body get blow backward with the force, right into poor Unnamed, but it's not as if the terrified human is going to stop there.
Another couple of shots ring out, but the Harbinger is lucky that they don't hit his head, though he stops moving for the moment. It seems that they've run out of ammo, their food running back up the stairs with hoarse breaths as they try to compose themselves to get more shotgun ammo to finish the zombies off. One of the shots tore into his leg, and he feels himself slump downward, unable to move it.
Ah, that's not good, but is Unnamed okay, he wonders as he turns his head to try to check up on the boy he's currently slumped up on top of.]
no subject
[ The splinters get a blink, but it's Childe's stumbling back into him that really surprises Unnamed. His forehead smacks into the door and the Harbinger's weight brings him to his knees, but overall? He's unharmed--thanks to Childe.
As soon as he's able to he looks up at the redhead for some sort of explanation, only to startle at how injured the other looks all of a sudden. A sound of alarm escapes him as he pushes himself up and wriggles out from under Childe. He's not worried about him being hurt so much as how quickly it all happened. He only turned his back for a second...!
He's ready to make a bunch of gestures and fuss when he catches movement out of the corner of his eye and finally spies the human, frantically reloading. Their hands shake and a spare shell falls to the floor. It bounces down the stairs and rolls to a stop before him; an innocuous red tube that he picks up to examine. It seems important to them.
Unnamed plucks it up and takes a step forward. One of the shells clicks into place and there's a deafening boom as the survivor pulls the trigger.
The wall beside his head disappears in an explosion of buckshot that leaves him stunned and wide-eyed. ]
no subject
Having dropped their second shot, the human has to reload once more, fumbling with fear now that the larger of the two zombies is coming for them. The Harbinger moves as fast as he possibly can with an inoperable leg and a torn up arm, his crawl across the floor faster than he even thought was possible for him, taking only one moment to turn his head to give Unnamed a look of urgency and fear. The grunt out of his mouth to tell him to run will go unheard, not aware that the boy is deaf, before he focuses his attention on the human.
The gun raises once more, and Tartaglia throws himself onto the human, his teeth ripping into their neck, tearing out their windpipe and ensuring their demise.
At the same time, another shot rings out, point blank into his chest, and his body is thrown backwards down the stairs and onto the floor, landing with a hard thud where he lies on his back with blood down his chin. His head rolls to the side, looking for Unnamed, wanting to make sure he wasn't hit by that blast...]
no subject
Unnamed isn't aware of the cry of distress he makes. All he knows is there's red everywhere--on the person, on Childe, on him and all over the walls. Something inside him knows that something terrible's happened. He can't look at the person on the stairs anymore; his eyes won't leave Childe's.
He drops to his knees and hurries to the man's side, palms pressed to his shoulder until they bunch up in fists of his shirt. ]
Auh! Auu...Uh, uh! Ah!
[ Get up, his face says. Get up, get up! Don't lie down, you won't get back up if you lie down...! ]
no subject
There's no pain, but he's having problems with his body. His head rolls back over to meet the terror that's reflected in Unnamed's eyes, and understands that he must of really scared him. That's the last thing he wants, so he forces a smile on his face, rolling to the side as blood seems to pour out onto the floor as he does.
It's...harder to move now, but he starts to drag himself towards the dead human, unmoving now that they had asphyxiated from the blow Childe had dealt to it. He's fine, look, he can crawl still. Another few grunts come out of him, waiting for Unnamed to follow him.
Don't worry, he thinks, everything's fine...
Once he reaches the body, he uses his good hand to rip a piece of flesh from it and offers it to the boy. Here, food.]
no subject
He doesn't know why he knows that. People missing parts of themselves has never been an issue before now. But he knows. Something's gripped him inside, some terrible truth and understanding that he isn't ready to face. Each movement, every strained effort Childe expends makes it want to break; like a dam shuddering under weight it can't hold back any longer.
He doesn't want the flesh Childe holds out to him, he wants to tell him to stop, to stop it and stop hurting himself...but he can't. The sounds he makes are guttural and choked; his throat is so constricted he can't do more than rasp as he catches Childe's bloody hand with both of his and holds it tight. His shoulders are shaking and he can't get them to stop.
A choked sound escapes him and he closes his eyes. He doesn't look at the body beside them, doesn't think about what it is as he opens his mouth and shoves the morsel inside. His teeth clench and he tears off a stringy piece, forcing himself to chew even as the dream around them begins to shudder; the stairs creak, the walls shake.
Unnamed lets his hands fall, but urges the rest of what's left back to Childe. Tries to insist he eat it, that he's he's fine, Childe is the one who needs to take a bite. Before--
Before-- ]
no subject
That's the thought he has as his body starts to shut down from the lack of blood, doing his best to look as if nothing is amiss and that Unnamed doesn't have to be so upset. He can't let this be the last thing he sees of him, he doesn't want him to have a terrible memory of their first meeting.
He wishes he could do something more to comfort the boy, but all he can manage is to shoot back an approving smile as Unnamed eats the bit of food offered, taking back the rest when it's given. His mouth drops open to let out a strained laugh, still wearing the same smile as he eats the remainder of the flesh ripped from the corpse next to them. He can barely swallow it as his strength seems to give out, and it feels like the world around him starts to shift and darken.
Tartaglia just needs to rest, that's all. Even if he's never known rest as a zombie, that's what it feels like now. He barely notices himself lying back down, a soft thud as his muscles finally lose the ability to hold himself up, his head lolling to the side when everything finally goes black and his body relaxes. The blood seems to begin to slow down as it pours out of his chest, but there's nothing left in his body to save...]
no subject
Childe lies down.
Thump.
His hand is cold. Slippery.
Thump-thump.
Red spreads out around them, wider and wider. It could be a lake. It could be an ocean, swallow them up and leave nothing else behind--
THUMP-THUMP.
Childe's head falls to the side and he stops moving, he doesn't move. He doesn't move he doesn't move he doesn't move he doesn't move--
the dream shatters
]
Waaaugh--!!
[ and Unnamed shoots up off the tree he'd sunk against, gasping for air and choking on wheezed sobs as his hands reach out for someone who's no longer there. ]
no subject
Sighing, he gets up anyway, the phantom of the boy that reached for his hand still burning brightly in his mind as he changes his sheets for something fresh and showers. Maybe this wasn't the best idea, as the dream was still so fresh in his mind. Who was that? His name was Nanashi Noriyuki, if his memory serves him correctly. Someone he doesn't know, a name he doesn't recognize save from that dream. How strange, how vivid it all still was in his mind, where normally he'd forget what he'd dreamt about the night before.
Did he really eat another person?]
-------------
[The next day, the Harbinger goes about business as usual. There was a certain Snezhnayan dish he wanted to cook for Aether tonight, so the traveler could sample yet another dish from his homeland that he was so proud of, so he's out picking up a few things to do exactly that. Still feeling tired from the night before, he chooses a bench in the Plaza to rest on, grocery bags sitting next to him on it.
Maybe a nap would be in order when he gets home.
Though he doesn't notice the boy who he'd saved in that dream he had last night in the Plaza as well, as he almost dozes off on the bench before starting awake again. He's only concentrated on keeping his eyes open until he reaches Aether's, and then maybe he'll crash on the couch once he's put way the food. Really wishing he'd gotten better sleep last night.]
emerges from the ether
He's in Reverein. And that dream--was the person in his dream a visitor? He had to be. If he is then he isn't gone, he can still find him. Can get someone to help him.
It's a long, fruitless search through the night. He's a little bedraggled by the time the sun rises and people start to mill about the town proper. A couple people ask if he's okay and all he can do is ask if they've seen "orange hair like me person", but the description doesn't exactly...help. There aren't any other zombies in Reverein, and his words are too vague to net him the response he's looking for. It's disheartening that he's contemplating going to Shigeru to give up and tell him all about the horrible dream he had, when he catches a hint of familiar orange hair in the crowd.
He doesn't even try to confirm if it's actually Childe before he runs through the crowd; it has to be, it has to be, it has to be--
It is. ]
Auh.....!
[ Unnamed doesn't hesitate. He catches sight of Childe and near-well throws himself at the man, wrapping his arms around him tightly amongst a myriad of distressed, intelligible noises. ]
FLYING TACKLES YOU :DDDDD
Tartaglia doesn't even know what to say at first. But he recognizes the boy immediately, and tries to calm him down-]
Hey, Nanashi, right? It's okay, I'm right here.
[Ah, but this means the dream he had last night...they'd shared it, hadn't they? He has questions with no answers to them, and a very upset zombie in his arms.]
Don't worry, I'm not gone. It was just a dream, that's all.
[Still doesn't know he's deaf.]
is tackled.....much like childe
[ It's not the way someone would typically cry. It's just one drawn-out, wavering sound--but it's clearly very heartfelt. It's a relief to feel Childe's hands come up to steady him; it means he's real. That he's there, not still, never to move again.
The dream wasn't real.
He's never felt so relieved to be wrong about something in his life.
He can't cry proper so his nose doesn't get runny and his eyes don't leak, and there's no flush to his face--but when he finally looks up at Childe to really see that he's alright, it's plain on his face.
(Childe might not realize he's deaf, but he's so emotional and relieved right now that he doesn't even try to Sign either. SO.) ]
no subject
C'mon now, let's calm down a little bit. You're going to get yourself worked up so much that you'll get sick at this rate. Well, if you can get sick at all.
[But he can't dismiss how awful it must have been for him, watching his companion die right in front of him like that. Not once has Childe gotten the impression that Unnamed is used to seeing comrades go down in a fight.]
no subject
O, ouh...
[ He sniffs a little--taking in Childe's scent (healthy, safe, alive) so he can commit it to memory--and brings one hand away finally so he can point to his ear and mouth in the Sign for deafness. He adds a bit more to it by pointing to one ear after and shaking his head, looking only a touch sheepish about it.
He's not ashamed to be deaf, he just doesn't like when he forgets to let people know. Given the circumstances though....he'll give himself a tiny break. ]
no subject
Sorry, I hadn't known that you were unable to hear. I don't know sign language, so I'll communicate like this, then. It's good to see you again, Nanashi.
[He hands the journal over to Unnamed for him to read, giving him a small smile.]
no subject
None of that stops him from concentrating on the page briefly to print his response in it with dreamotion, one word appearing after another:
"It Okay. Not lot people understand Sign Language. I learn read to talk to people!" Like Childe. "Happy you awake. Happy you move still. Dream scary and sad. Not like dream!" ]