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 Posted: Wed Aug 17, 2011 10:18 am
It was dark, and damp, and dank, and muddy, and pretty much one of the worst places she has ever had the misfortune of being stuck in. But could anyone really blame her for having tripped on a gnome's discarded hat and fallen waist-over-heels right into an old abandoned well? Who even puts a well on the borders of the cemetery and the forest?! Really? Who?
Probably gnomes.
When in doubt, it's always the gnomes. Gnomes always ruin everything, she'd found. She didn't know how long she'd been trapped here, no means of escape or communication, because how was a pair of legs supposed to yell for help? Her legs weren't nearly long enough to be able to climb out, nor were her toenails sharp enough to allow her to claw her way out.
It seems she was going to be stuck here for the rest of her unlife, separated from her upper half. And her upper half's nagging, suppressive, unnecessarily conservative parents. Huh. Somehow, her predicament didn't seem too bad.
As it was, she was unaware of the recent fearados attack, or of the fate that had befallen her other half. She only became aware of a strong impact that shook the well and its walls to the point it yawned open to reveal.
Is that a tunnel!? Oh! Oh! Oh praise Jack, she was saved!!!! She didn't care where the large, gaping hole in the wall led to, as long as it was OUT OF THIS WELL! Without further ado and without concern for the damp mud clinging to her skin, the pair of legs began to run.
Meanwhile, up in a graveyard, Christof was busy. He had recently discovered a shop at the maul akin to a pawn-shop but... well, much more up his alley. It was a lot easier to trade Good Parts for Seeds than to beg his Masters for hand-outs whenever he needed something, and was rather proud of this pseudo-part time work. It gave him an excuse to Collect, anyway.
He wandered his way long, poking into the graves he hadn't had a chance to examine yet, but there was a lot of decay in this area. No good. The fresher and more intact the Parts the better the value, after all. He was getting good at judging the age of the grave just by the color and consistency of the dirt that covered them. A few shovel fulls and he'd spot a mushroom or a bit of green that said ROT. He sighed. It would be a lot easier of the Parts would just come to HIM, but alas.
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Posted: Wed Aug 17, 2011 8:30 pm
She didn't know how long or how far she'd run and stumbled out of the well. The ground was uneven, widening then narrowing abruptly, sometimes forcing her to continue on her knees. (Why, oh why did she ever choose to wear a skirt on the day she severed?) Eventually, and unfortunately, she came up to a dead end: A wall of lichen-covered stone blocked the rest of the tunnel. Frustrated, she gave the barrier a good, hard kick with the sole of her bare foot, expecting absolutely nothing to happen.
Except the wall had been worn down with age and time (she had no idea how old it was) and was weaker than it looked. The impact caused it to crack and groan and crumble, to reveal an odd sort of mausoleum on the other side. Had she a mouth, or any means to make vocal sounds, she would have given a screech of delight at the turn of events.
She squeezed through the small hole, wriggling her hips and squirming her way onto the otherside. Just a little more and she'd be free! She'd be able to feel the FEAR-infused air against her skin again. She could practically taste her freedom up until she came across the mausoleum's door. Huh, if the walls gave in so easily, then the door would be the same right?
Wrong. No amount of kicking or hip-checking seemed to do anything. Other than make a whole lot of noise.
Outside, the hunchback was still poking his way along the tombstones and small buildings, enjoying the peaceful zen of the hunt. Usually, this was a somewhat lonely affair, but he didn't mind. He would have thought the grave yards would be more crowded, but save for the occasional bumping into one or two people they were nice, quiet, restful places.
Until he heard the bashing. Huh. Had a zombie woken up? He had never witnessed an "awakening" before... or maybe someone had gotten themselves stuck? He followed the noise around a small knoll to where a rather impressive mausoleum stood, and regarded it respectfully. Very nice architecture, really. But that was definitely where the sound was coming from.
Unable to call out to whoever was trapped inside, he instead gave a tentative knock on the large heavy door to see if they would respond. Maybe it was just a ghost or something causing a bit of a stir?
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Posted: Wed Aug 17, 2011 10:38 pm
She was about to give up and resign herself to having a new place she would be stuck in (at least this one wasn't damp or muddy and if it rained she needn't worry about flooding or getting water-logged) when she heard a response! Praise Jack, someone heard her! Maybe it was a groundskeeper of sorts? Or maybe it was one of the descendants of whoever it was that had been lain to rest. Had this been some other time, like before she fell down that Jacking well, she might have cared to know who it was on the other side.
But as she was so close to freedom she didn't give a scragg's a**. Immediately she tried to kick for help, the rhythm of the beats in Morse code pleading for them to open the door. Yes, it completely slipped her mind (figuratively speaking) that whoever it was on the other side might not know Morse code. She was desperate and excited and just wanted out.
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Posted: Tue Aug 23, 2011 12:13 am
Christof wasn't FLUENT in Morse code... but he did know it enough to know he was hearing it. Brows raised, he knocked back his own series of rhythms if only to confirm to whoever was on the other side that yes he was there, and yes, he would try to help. Who knew how long whoever it was had been stuck there! Perhaps it was a new student, freshly risen from the dead? Only one way to find out.
He hefted his shovel, and with a grunt slammed it into the lock on the door, again and again until there came a clatter of shattering metal. With a grunt and a heave, he managed to pull the door open, cool, fresh outdoor air pouring into the ancient chamber beyond.
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Posted: Tue Aug 23, 2011 1:15 pm
Despite having no ears or any discernible method of listening, she heard the smattering of Morse code in response to hers. She gave a little leap into the air then promptly continued to eagerly bounce on the balls of her feet. With each sharp sound of metal striking metal, she could feel her skin begin to tingle in anticipation. Her hips suddenly cocked to the side as if inspecting herself.
She looked like a right absolute mess! Her skirt was torn and stained in grime, her skin was splotched in caking mud and dirt, and she sorely needed a pedicure. Despite her mild vanity, she'd rather be discovered in such a state than be presentable but still stuck.
When her savior pulled the door open, she broke into a running leap out of the mausoleum, one leg forward, the other trailing behind in what she hoped was a graceful arc. There were no audible sounds coming from the lower body, apart from the soles of pale feet scraping against the ground.
Soon enough, she turned to look for her rescuer. She needed to thank him or her properly after all! Right now all she could use was Morse code but she was certain once she was whole, she would be more vocal about her gratitude.
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Posted: Sat Aug 27, 2011 10:35 pm
Christof grunted as the door swung open, wobbling backward to try to peer through the gloom of settling dust... Who was there? What was all this commotion about? The moment of truth...
He blinked, brows furrowing.
That... didn't look like whole person. Not at all. There was a sever lack of... most of the important bits.
Slightly baffled, he stepped back politely, so the... legs... could move freely out of her tomb.
He assumed they were a her.
They had the important bits to make it a her, including the curves but... but... his hands were itching. That wasn't... it wasn't... PROPER... for legs to be running around without their body!
He managed a short, anxious, "Hrrrnnnn?"
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Posted: Tue Sep 06, 2011 10:32 am
Despite lacking the facial features necessary to smile, she was radiating an aura of gratitude and relief and utter joy (not the Christmas Town kind, mind) as she padded up to her patchwork savior. Her toes wiggled against the ground, digging into the earth as if to see how much give there was and to her delight, the damp soil was just perfect.
Her waist seemed to angle forward slightly as she slowly began to scratch at the ground with her large toe. Thankfully, having long toenails made this an easier task. Her foot-writing was wobbly and far from neat but it was legible. She hoped. Thank you! : ) <3 Yes, she included a smiley and a heart at the end. What? Wasn't she allowed to play cute? She reasoned she was allowed to express herself using whatever she wanted if it got her message through!
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Posted: Wed Sep 07, 2011 11:59 pm
This had never happened to the hunchback before. He was... dumbstruck. Parts never got up and moved on their own unless they belonged to someone. Did... maybe... his mind raced as he stared deep into that toe-scribed smiley and heart. A purple-hazed recollection slowly crept up into the back of his mind, of a ghoul who's... condition... had set the Igor's Parts-and-Assembly OCD into high gear. And a rather embarrassing solution he had come up with that he would rather pretend never happened.
The Parts could write... could they read? Hesitantly and skeptically, he crouched to scribe into the dirt as well: Do you have Owner?
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Posted: Thu Sep 08, 2011 9:48 am
She waited patiently for the boil's response, wondering if the hesitation meant she had perhaps come across as not grateful enough. Despite the lack of eyes, the pair of legs was aware of her surrounding and was capable of reading what her hunchbacked savior had written beside her messy toe-scrawl.
Her hip jutted indignantly at him when she finished reading. OWNER!?! She wasn't owned by anyone! She was simply half of a whole! Neither of them owned the other. They were the same undead person! At least they were before they severed from each other. But she realized she couldn't blame him for assuming. Her kind wasn't particularly known. So she'll give him the benefit of the doubt and forgive him the minor slight.
Again she carefully began to scratch out her answer while managing to maintain her balance. Owner no. Upper-half yes. We go by Tess. It sounded like a long-shot that he would know who she was talking about, but this way he had something to call her at least. She would have continued to scrawl on the ground when a shrill, ear-piercing shriek had her suddenly doubling over.
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Posted: Thu Sep 08, 2011 7:44 pm
Christof brightened immediately, eyes alight with relief. He... had found them! Obviously they were the Perfect Parts because they were THE part that was missing! What were the chances?? Oh, and he could bring them to the vampiress and there would be no hard feelings about the... the boat incident and-
The sudden cry made him nearly jump out of his stitches, clamoring up to his feet with his shovel suddenly in hand defensively.
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Posted: Thu Sep 08, 2011 7:58 pm
Elsewhere in the graveyard, a certain winged vampire ghoul was struggling to shove a bright red brassier into an animated shovel's mouth. Tess originally did not think the gag was that necessary when she took the shovel (the very same one Red had lent her) out of its burlap sack. It seemed docile enough, unlike when it was in Red's hands. Apparently it was just to lull her into a false sense of security.The shriek hurt and she ended up dropping the shovel in order to cover her ears. When it became obvious it wasn't going to stop, Tess figured she was going to need to shut it up again. Except it was proving more difficult that expected. "Oh now you don't open your mouth?" she hissed with a glare.
The pair of legs slowly straightened herself up, her severed waist angling towards the source before turning towards her savior. Oooh! Was he going to protect her? She assumed he was, given the defensive way he held his shovel. What a gentleboil! Again she wrote on the ground: Are dismembered heads common here?
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Posted: Thu Sep 08, 2011 8:25 pm
Christof glanced down at the sound of scratching, but shook his head once he had read. He stooped to write out very quickly: Not unless 6 feet under. Stay close. That written, he pressed forward towards the sound of the cry, shovel still gripped tightly slung over his hunch, ready to swing at any moment like a cocked pistol.
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Posted: Thu Sep 08, 2011 8:35 pm
"Aaaagh! Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!!!!!" she screamed back, thoroughly wondering how in Jack's name this thing was ever supposed to be of any help in locating her legs. Yes, it had tugged her towards the direction of the graveyard when she was on her way to Breck's shed. But still. All this screaming, was it trying to wake and create more undead?
So preoccupied Tess was with the shrieking tool, she failed to notice someone was approaching. With her current stance and the strings of profanity spilling forth from her lips, she was making a rather suspicious display.
The pair of legs bobbed quickly at the patchwork's instructions and stay close she did indeed! Not too close, mind. She may be rebelling against her upper half's conservative upbringings but this did not seem to be the right time to attempt flirting.
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Posted: Thu Sep 08, 2011 8:59 pm
As they grew closer, Christof dodged behind a tomb stone to get a better look at the winged figure, glancing behind him to make sure the Legs had followed. Once his attention returned to the other shoveled figure, though, he stood up immediately. Ah! Miss Tess! It was perfect! Without thinking to lower his shoulder, he immediately started lurching towards her, humming to try to catch her attention.
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Posted: Sun Sep 11, 2011 12:00 am
The winged vampire sported the undead's equivalent of a flush from all the shovel-bashing she was doing. Seemed like the only way to properly silence the noisy digging tool was to beat it senseless. The humming eventually reached her ears and she glanced over her shoulders. Crimson eyes widened at the sight of the igor lurching towards her with a shovel.
"Christof?" she blinked, suddenly feeling very defensive and embarrassed. The now-silent shovel (dizzy from all the blunt-force trauma) was suddenly clutched to her chest, "What are you doing here?" she asked, initiating stalling tactics to be able to think up of an excuse for why she was here.
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The pair of legs obediently followed after Christof as he hid behind a tombstone. She wondered what it was he saw and attempted to peer around him when she heard that voice.
SHE KNEW THAT VOICE!!!
Darting behind the igor, she leapt towards her upper half in the same (hopefully) graceful manner as she had when first liberated from the mausoleum. Oh happy day!
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