hadriel_logs | Event Log: Dead Men Walking

Entry tags:

Event Log: Dead Men Walking

Who: Everyone participating in the event!
What: The event log for the Dead Men Walking event!
Where: All around the city
When: September 14th-September 20th
Warnings: Zombies. Walkers. The Infected. Zeds. The undead. Risen.

Everything seems more or less normal in Hadriel on the 14th - at least at first. But wait, who's that over there? Why are they walking so weird? Are they feeling okay? Wow, did they just try to bite you? Oh shit, you might've seen a movie like this before. That was definitely a zombie.

But hey, it's no big deal. A few zombies here and there are pretty easy to avoid, especially when you can outrun them without too much trouble. They're only really dangerous if they're fast or if there are a lot of them, and they sure aren't fast! Only - well, before long, there are a lot of them. You can hardly go outside without running into one, and mobs form quickly. Went out for supplies? Let's hope they didn't follow you - you might get stuck in that shop, mobile corpses pounding on the door. Oh, and don't stand too close to the windows of your house. They'll be more than happy to smash the glass trying to get you.

Don't worry, though! A hard blow to the head will take these zombies out, and you'll be sitting pretty, as long as none of them bite you. None of them bit you... right? Wow, what a relief. We're all glad you're not concealing a life-threatening zombie bite from your friends! Who would do that, anyway? Now if you can manage that until the 20th, you'll be safe and sound as the zombies shamble out of the city. Hopefully you won't be shambling with them.

► This log covers September 14th-September 20th.
► Feel free to make your own logs, as well
► Please tag headers of threads with content warnings where they apply
► Please put your character's name and open/closed in the subject line of your starters!
► If you join the zombie party, please let us know here!

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

While not actively seeking out the living among the throng of the undead, Rey has cut through more than her fair share of limbs and heads. Even punched a few teeth out in attempts to gnaw on her arm. She wasn't having any of that, thank you very much.

It only takes half a second to assess the situation when Rey emerges from an alleyway to find a tired looking skeleton shambling before an unpleasant crowd. She blinks, eyes following him as he passes by, unfazed by the approaching zombies that were following him.

Before long, they start to take notice to Rey as well.

Two bloodied kukris in either hand, Rey swings the other direction and makes to follow the skeleton at a calm, collective pace. "There a reason you're out and about?"

She doesn't blame people for locking their doors and windows, staying inside in hopes to wait out the storm. However, she does find it baffling that anyone who isn't inclined towards defending themselves would take to the streets of all places.

She comes at them like - well, the metaphor's overused, but bat outta hell just seems more than a bit fitting given the way she comes outta nowhere, weapons streaked with blood that sure as hell doesn't look like it's hers.

"Lookin' for my brother," he says shortly, because he's too tired to sugarcoat it, or do much of anything besides go for the truth. He's got a list, something he never actually commits to making and in fact usually abandons partway through the attempt, and it looks something like this:

1. check on the kids (done)
2. check on bro (not done)
3. check on roomies (still not done)

So, yeah, he ain't exactly doin' so hot, because these things won't get off his coccyx long enough for him to find any of the people he gives a damn about.

"Well, you're not going to be finding anyone at that pace. Or if you do, you're just going to get them fucked up by your friends back there."

She glances to the herd behind them, and then back to Sans.

"Where are you headed to, exactly?"

'Course he isn't, at this pace. He's just trying to find someplace to rest for two seconds so he can zip himself the rest of the way. Unfortunately, Dead And Deader And All Their Merry Friends are makin' that a real difficult prospect. More than it has to be.

He keeps moving at his own achingly slow pace, trying not to look as tired as he feels and knowing his failure is painfully evident, based on the sweat sliding off the edges of his skull.

"Delight's housing, Number One."

See, that speed just won't do, and Rey isn't going to wait on Sans or their dead men party back there to catch up. She huffs, sheathing both kukris to her belt. Then reaches into one of her tech pockets to pull out something round and homemade-looking. Something made out of what could have been regular kitchen and cleaning supplies.

That's when the spark seemingly ignites right in her hand, before she pitches the round object towards the shambling crowd. There's a moment of calm among the groaning masses.

And then, boom.

It isn't a big explosion by any means, but it's enough to send many of them flying apart and give them pause.

"There. Should slow them down for now," Rey says as she whirls back around. At first, it seems like she's just going to keep jogging onward. But then she scoops Sans up off the ground and carries him under her arm like he's nothing more than a sack of rice. This sure is fun, isn't it?

Or, uh, hey. That works too. The lights in Sans's eyesockets follow the arcing parabola of the thing she lobs into the crowd of festering undead flesh.

He turns away as the percussive force of the blast sends disembodied limbs and - various parts hailing down onto the streets.

And then he -

Good. Good god.

This is the second time. The second time this has happened since this whole shebang started, and he is startin' to get real sick of it. He wouldn't care, except the first time was kind of a novelty, and this time it's anything but.

"Do, uh, d'ya mind?" Sans drones, making no attempt to mask the vague exasperation creeping into his otherwise even tone.

"Yes," comes Rey's immediate answer.

In fact, she does mind. Within a matter of seconds, she's already taken them down a few blocks that would have otherwise taken several minutes.

Eventually she caves and sets the skeleton back down on his feet, glancing back in the direction she had come from rather than directly to Sans himself.

"Apologies. Wanted to make sure we've got a good headway."

For someone who's apologizing, she doesn't sound very apologetic.

Welp. This sure is happening now. Not that he should really care, can afford to care, because caring comes with its own baggage like effort and an impetus to put behind the effort, and she's carrying him anyway, so...so, y'know, might as well just let it happen.

Ain't so different from what he's used to, honestly. He's never had control over his own life, not even the illusion of it. It's just a shift of perspective, really, nothin' more.

She puts him down, which has him feeling more than a bit rattled, and maybe humiliated if he had the energy for such a thing. But he doesn't, so it's all to the good.

"Yeah, yeah," he says, waving a hand wearily in her direction. "'S only the second time it's happened in the past few days. Suppose I'll get used to it."

Still keeping vigil on their surroundings, Rey just shrugs at Sans' comment.

"Wouldn't happen if you weren't running around by yourself," she scoffs, not even out of breathe despite sprinting while carrying the dead weight. This time, she shoots Sans a look, a brow arched. "Seriously, ever heard of a buddy system?"

Not that Rey is one to talk, hardly being much of a team player. But she's more effective in her work without a buddy. That's how she's always operated.

"I had a buddy," says Sans, and, without missing a beat, withdraws a pack of ketchup from his jacket pocket to wiggle it teasingly in the air. "But they couldn't ketchup."

Eh? Eh?

Well, he thought it was funny. He squeezes the thing out into his mouth, and the little spurt of magical energy is enough to loosen his joints somewhat.

"Speakin' kinda freely for someone runnin' around without any backup," he adds, because don't think that escaped his notice either.

Is he eating ketchup out of the packet? Not that Rey is one to judge; she's perfectly fine with slurping jelly out of its packet or from a jar. With her fingers. No fucks given.

It takes a moment for the joke to land, and then she huffs. "You're awfully calm about all of this."

Of course, was Sans in any real danger to begin with? He doesn't quite have the meats for those things to gnaw on. Perhaps she was overreacting. But he did seem rather distressed at the time.

Her arms fold over her chest as he points out the duplicity of her sentiment.

"Most buddies don't tend to be fireproof. Have always been better utilized on solo ops."

"Meh." He shrugs. "Not really one for panicking."

Closest he ever got to it was, uh. Well, that wasn't a great time, he'll just say. Doesn't bode well to dwell on it. Mostly it just has him stuck going down that mental spiral that he hates.

But, y'know. She likes working solo, and that's fine. He's not gonna judge that. He's got his hands full judging everything else.

"Fair enough. Guess you bought us some, uh, some time. Nice of ya." Especially with that boom seeming to draw their attention away from where they're at currently.

"Good."

Rey is virtually useless when it comes to calming scared, panicked people. Offering solace through words is hardly her strongest suit. And she's more or less just demonstrated on what she excels best at.

She checks over her shoulder, in the direction she had just charged out from.

"Did it because it was the more tactful thing to do, not because it was nice." There used to be a part of her that would've entertained the idea of using an individual as a distraction and/or bait for the fun of it. Such a notion isn't a gamble she's even willing to humor right now, regardless of the tiny voice niggling in the back of her mind. "Anyway, do you have an actual direction you're headed?"

"Delight's housing, more or less." He'll end up there eventually, he figures, but it'd be awful nice if he could make it there in one go rather than this staggered thing he's been having to pull off since he's got a dearth of actual energy. He's always got a dearth of actual energy, technically, but copious sleepin' tends to keep a little on reserve somewhat.

Not so right now. Turns out having these things chewing at your tailbone makes it a little difficult to get any decent shut-eye.

"Glad to know you're hardy in a crisis," Sans adds, his tone utterly neutral - whether that's a commendation or a judgment is up to her.

Delight's housing. Rey's mouth tightens when she hears that, recalling the fact that the homes are somewhat underground. It isn't a living situation that she would deem appealing. But hey, so long as Sans isn't asking for a sleepover...

Knowing that dawdling in one location for too long leaves you just as liable to run into those undead bastards as that bomb she'd thrown, Rey starts moving in the direction of the underground neighborhood. She figures that, if Sans doesn't want to be carried, he's just as capable of moving his own feet along.

"Was only ever any good at fighting. At least that skillset is being put to use here."

Much as some she knows would argue over whether or not combat is the only thing she's good for, it's all Rey has ever really known. Hard to beat the bad habit out of an old dog, as the saying goes.

He starts shambling along, threading his way through the streets while keepin' an eyesocket out for any suspiciously grayed-out undead silhouettes. The nice things about these guys - and that's maybe a list with two bullet-points on it, frankly, because there ain't much really nice about 'em - but the nice things boils down to two factors: they're slow, and they're loud. He always sees and hears 'em comin' before they actually show up, and his sight ain't even that great (though compared to a human's, he's heard it's pretty damn good, especially since he don't have retinas that require light to see).

"Only ever good at fighting?" he says in a tone that ain't skeptical so much as it's just...well, mildly dubious that said skillset is really all she's got to her name. He doesn't generally believe in that kinda thing. Not - fuck, not for the kid, not for either of the kids, and not for her either.

Nah, fighting ain't requisite. It is never requisite in his book. People lash out if they're scared, people are taught that this is the only thing they've got of value, and people are raised to believe the world is a cruel and terrible place full of things that will push, and the only way to survive is to push at 'em first.

Despite walking and chatting, Rey is more alert of her surroundings than she would appear. Not only with her eyes, but her hearing and other senses as well. When you've been on so many battlefields, you get a knack for detecting when danger is imminent.

In this case, there are none. Yet. Which means that she has to dignify Sans' query with a response.

"Yes," she says firmly. "Wasn't intended for anything else, really."

While that may not be true in the slightest, Rey has lived with that philosophy for so long that it's like a bad tick that's left its mark on her skin. Old habits die hard. Especially ones you've been living with for as long as Rey has.

"And?" He arches one of his supraorbital ridges at her in such a way that definitely implies skepticism. "You realize that intention don't mean much in the grand scheme of things, right?"

Not anybody, he thinks, can every truly be built solely for destruction. Or heck, maybe they can, but that don't ever mean they can't be more than that. Because, uh, honestly, that notion of "fate" and bein' destined for one thing and one thing only? Fuck that.

At least when it comes to people who aren't stuck in perpetually resetting temporal loops. 'Cause, y'know, at least Sans has that excuse going for him.

Edited (MAN I LOVE HTML I L O V E IT) 2016-09-24 04:32 (UTC)

Funny, Sans isn't the first person to mention something like that. And something tells Rey that he won't be the last, either.

"It doesn't matter," she says flatly, hardly compelled to justify the bleakness of her philosophy.

Rey has made her peace with the fact that her final death will probably end as she's lived: Violently and alone. At the very least she can make sure that she takes down as many motherfuckers as she can before that day comes. Because there are some back home who are sure as hell asking for it.

It doesn't matter.

Ain't that sound familiar. He'd laugh, but it's really not that funny. As it is, it's just kinda - a little too relatable, maybe, not that he'd be the type to mention it. Nah, things're weird enough as it is.

So he simply shrugs, and keeps going. Stepping over some, uh, what appear to be some disembodied limbs now. A few fingers still twitching at the ends of some of 'em. That's - fine, though. He took the kid's arm off more than a few times, it doesn't rattle him. Just a little unsettlin' is all.

"Well," says Sans at last, "you're entitled to your opinion."

Similarly, Rey weaves around and steps across the streets of riddled body parts and rotting corpses. Not even the smell sends her into olfactory overload, if only because she's traveled through much worse. Walking over mountains of death along with the stench of it filling the air is miles more preferable to trying to explain her opinion, though. Especially when it's the opinion regarding her place in the universe, because there's always that someone with something to say about it.

But not Sans', apparently. And for that reason, Rey finds it somewhat peculiar. Granted, he doesn't strike her as the type willing to initiate a heated debate at great length. That would require energy that he doesn't care to expend, it seems.

"Suppose we all are. Even if it sounds like yours is different."

It isn't a challenge. Just an observation.

"Sounds like it, yeah." He dips his skull in concession to her point. "Personally, I don't think fightin' is ever the only thing someone can do with their life. But, heh, I guess we'll have to agree to disagree, huh?"

He wonders idly how high her LOVE would be, had she existed in a world where such things were quantifiable. Where the pain inflicted on others was a numerical value to be adjusted at will.

He stops wondering.

No point in hypotheticals. A stimulating thought experiment at best.

Oh, rest assured Rey would have plenty of LOVE, if her world worked in such a way.

"Have never really known much else. Don't see the point in wishful that things could be any different."

It's how she's always lived and how she's always died. Even her old selves that were more hopeful than the others eventually resigned themselves to loneliness. Far as Rey is concerned, that's all there is for her outside of Hadriel. It's a sad, terrible thought.

"Did I mention wishing anytime in there?" he says, one ridge arching upwards in the approximation of a raised eyebrow. "Nah. Thing is, you got more of a say in what you are than anybody's 'intentions.' You dig?"

Can't imagine she hasn't heard those words before. But it's somethin' that's just kinda...rote, he thinks, at this point. Gotta hold to that core of morality like the fucking hypocrite he is. Gotta at least make the effort. Even if he eschews effort at every opportunity.

Naturally, Sans has a point. Of fucking course he has a point, and he's hardly the first person to ever offer such pearls of common sense. Actually acknowledging that everything Rey had known throughout her many lives, however, is another story.

Despite actually considering the aforementioned point, Rey makes a rather unflattering snort, her eyes rolling.

"Nice. You get that one out of a fortune cookie? Liked them better when they just gave you 'lucky numbers'."

And you can bet your damned breeches that she completes that sentence with air quotes.

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