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Light peeked through the branches overhead, casting tiny drills of light through the eyelids of the prone girl. A brilliant white, radiating in tiny little crystalline points -- was this heaven? Fallon cracked one eye open, shrinking away from the stark lightness. She was not inside. She was not in her room, or in the burned out hollow that was once Barren Pines. She was... lying in wet grass. Sitting up, Fallon took in her surroundings -- trees, leaves, low-lying bushes. Everything was covered in the fine mist of morning dew. Had it been... a dream?

Fallon could not be certain, and she rubbed at her head, feeling first for hair and then eyebrows. It was still there, not burned away by the errant flames that consumed her bedroom. If that was a hallucination, it was the most terrible one she had ever experienced in her short fifteen years. This was not the first time that Fallon had woken up in a strange place though. If ever pushed too far, she had the charming tendency to black-out. Usually she came to in her bedroom with a stern note from her mother taped to her door that said something like "Don't bite others!" or "You can never go back to that pool!" or "Show some restraint!" Fallon never really remembered the encounters. It always started innocently with some other kid trying to mess with Fallon's order of things. When they didn't comply to her demands, sometimes she lost her s**t. And sometimes she blacked out for the duration. Nothing new.

Yes... perhaps that had happened? Maybe the dream of fire was all some manifestation of her internal rage. Had she hurt someone? Hm, couldn't be sure. Fallon struggled to her feet, pulling leaves from her hair. Taking careful steps, she made her way out of the treeline and on to the green stretch of grass encircling Barren Pines. Her eyes struggled to adjust, but when they did, she noted the black scorch marks running up one side of the building. Most of it had burned, but not all. What about her things?

Fallon moved independently of her mind, feet trailing sluggishly over the ground. She made her way little by little, heading for the entrance that had not been burned out. She felt oddly cold, and quite hungry. Odd.

Of course, any passerby would note that the girl was stark naked and slightly paler than usual. There was a clean gash across her lower abdomen that (though unhealed) looked perfectly unthreatening, and a silver shape of the Star of David was burned in to the center of her chest. She didn't appear outwardly terrifying, just like she might need to go see a doctor. That gash couldn't be healthy, right? Clearly she had survived the fire -- but with a little bit of collateral damage done. A human could survive having a necklace burned in to their skin... right? Yep, yep, everything seemed to be on the up-and-up.

Of course, in her stupor, Fallon did not realize any of this. She simply wanted to go check on the condition of her room. Perhaps she could see if her marbles were all right...

It wasn't like Fallon to trek through the woods, or to even walk on anything other than paved sidewalk. This foray across the grounds had her feeling off balance, struggling to maintain her normal gait. It was an annoyance, and her lips pursed in response. The door loomed just ahead, and Fallon let out a little sigh, raking a hand through her less-than-perfect hair. She would have to remedy that immediately.

A scuttling sound over her shoulder grabbed the girl's attention -- much more sharply than normal, weird. It was as though she could hear the many little tappings of the small thing that Andeon frequently carried around. Andeon. Fallon turned, long hair whipping around her in the cool wind. A few feet away, Andeon stood in the same grass that she did. Fallon stood quietly for a moment, the wind pulling her hair in front of her face, carrying off in Andeon's direction. And then, very slowly, she smiled. Andeon had made it. Well, they both had. How wonderful!

"Andeon," she said, face breaking in to so genuine a smile that it made her cheeks hurt. "You made it out." Despite the lack of excitement in her words, there was a clear happiness bouncing in the cadence. Fallon took short strides over to Andeon, hands bouncing limply at her sides. "I can't believe we both made it! Did you wake up in the woods too?" She crossed the few feet between them, head so full of eagerness to touch Andeon that she didn't question it for an instant. "I know my hair looks terrible, don't say anything." She shook her head, sighing at her own frustration over the gently tousled locks. Nope -- not even one flyaway could be accepted. Tugging at her hair, Fallon pursed her lips, eyes wandering off in thought. "I need to find a shower. Compose myself." She dropped her eyes down to Andeon's scant clothing. "Perhaps you could use one too," she said, and it was not a suggestion.

Standing just before Andeon, a person whose death she had so feared when she was trapped in her own bedroom (How had she made it out again?), the young teen allowed herself a rare moment of girlish immaturity. Excitement took hold, and Fallon grinned more widely, reaching out her arms to give Andeon a big ole gay hug.

Andeon was acting strangely, and not the usual kind of drunken strangeness that followed the boy around like a cloud of vodka vapor. The peculiar look he gave her was met with the quirk of an eyebrow, the characteristic pursing of lips. "Andeon," she repeated, mocking him. And then he pulled her in for a hug. It was so nice to feel the warm pulse of his skin, the heavy beating of his heart, the sweet vapor moving over his skin.

The wind changed, and like a scene from Twilight, Fallon stiffened, eyes widening as her chin rested neatly against Andeon. He smelled delicious. The hunger that had thrummed in her boiled fiercely, and Fallon swallowed hard, pushing the lump down. Truth be told, if any zombie had the necessary skill to deny the overriding urge to consume flesh, it was probably Fallon. Her entire life had been spent controlling and managing her compulsions; this, too, she could struggle to control. Of course, like with her OCD compulsions, Fallon had to develop her coping mechanisms over time, and this new hunger was not something she had adjusted to at that moment.

A strange calmness overtook her, eyes dropping to half-lids. Fallon raised one hand, gently pushing her fingers into the thick mass of Andeon's pink hair. She wrapped each painted nail around a strand, pushing gently into his scalp. With her other hand, she traced her fingernail across his chest, up to his shoulder. Her body pressed against his, melting away from the friendly relief that had motivated the initial gesture and moving in to a territory that Fallon had never crossed with Andeon -- or any other man. She moved as if possessed, tracing his exposed skin, inching closer.

"It feels so good to be close to you," she said, voice low and gravely. Her lips brushed lightly over his skin, and then, in spite of herself, Fallon let her tongue dart out, licking the spot where her fingers had touched. A part of Fallon screamed incest, another part screamed disgust. Fallon was not attracted to men. At. All. And Andeon was practically her brother.

Yet she continued to grind herself against him, tongue squiggling over the skin of his chest, his shoulder, mouth moving to his ear. She paused, breathing heavily, and felt her head clear of any Fallon thought, only to be replaced by a drive, a drive that was not part of her OCD but merely a beast that operated in a similar fashion -- a beast she could not fully resist.

A third presence sat heavy in Fallon's gut -- not herself or her OCD, but something else foreign, seeping into her bloodstream like a drug. It was so easy to get swept up in its lull, to be called to give in to the craving. But this was Andeon. Her lips parted, teeth baring forward, and then Andeon was away, scrambling up a tree.

And then he threw a pine cone at her.

Fallon didn't react as the pine cone made soft contact with her stomach. Her eyes simply followed its trajectory, moving up her legs, past her crotch, and to the bare stretch of skin with the massive gash tracing a cruel smile into her -- wait a second. Her mouth dropped open, and for a moment, Fallon forgot about the oddness of Andeon's actions, or her cravings for him. "I'm... naked?" she said, not raising her hands to touch herself or cover up. "This doesn't make sense." Standing naked on the green, she let her mind travel back to the hallucination of the fire. Her ceiling fan had speared her, and she had fallen through the floor to her death.

Lifting one hand, she traced the gash on her stomach. It looked like it had been cut in a cadaver, the kind of incision she made on a frog in biology class in middle school. A painted nail traced across the flesh, pushing down on one side and hooking her finger under the skin flap. Inch by inch, she slipped her fingers deeper in to her stomach. When she removed her hand, Fallon brought it up to her face. Inky black sludge oozed like molasses down her fingers, moving like a glacier toward her wrist. It didn't hurt, not even a little, to prod herself in this way, and Fallon was 99% sure she had touched her own liver.

"Andeon," she said, eyes not leaving the black goo coating her hand, "do you know what has happened to me?" There was no fear in Fallon's voice, no nervousness. She appeared ambivalent to the answer, eyes puzzling over the stain on her hand, as if it was unthinkable that something so nasty could come out of her.

Fallon didn't move an inch, leaving her gooey hand in the air. Despite Andeon's best efforts, Fallon believed her gooey-ness out gooey'd him 100 to 1. The realization that she was, in fact, some kind of dead didn't really startle Fallon as much as it probably should have, as much as most surprises did. But then again, this really wasn't a surprise. Deep down, Fallon had to have known that fire was not a dream; she never dreamed that vividly. Most of her dreams involved her organizing things. Not very interesting at all.

Well, she did not want to hurt Andeon.
But she had to eat.
It could not be avoided.
Hm, how puzzling...

Snuzzles scuttled over, and Fallon bent to pick him up, assuming he wouldn't mind the nastiness on her hand. For the first time, she felt like she saw the little headcrab as he truly was. "I see," she said, trailing a finger across his back. He felt less like a separate creature and more like an extension of her own body, which felt like an extension of some one else -- but who? "I don't want to hurt you," she said, taking a slow step toward Andeon. "But I have to eat. I can't control that." Just like her compulsions, Fallon knew that it was impossible to resist them entirely. You had to satisfy the impulse without doing something too extreme. This desire to consume the flesh of others would have to be treated just the same. "It isn't a question of not eating. It's a question of who I should go after, who deserves it." Yes... yes... that was all there was. The thought might be disgusting to others, but Fallon WAS a monster. She could not avoid this, and like everything else in her life, she just wanted to adjust to it as best as she could.

Her fingers moved over Snuzzles, eyes going glassy with thought. She flashed her eyes up to Andeon as he battled with the sap. Tilting her chin up, she sniffed the air once, and then twice. "Hey," she said, perking up for the first time since she discovered her deadness. "You smell less good. You smell kind of gross now." Fallon pointed a bloody finger at the tree. "Lube up with that stuff, Andeon. It makes you really disgusting smelling." She smiled as if it were a compliment, tapping softly at Snuzzles.

Just a naked girl and a headcrab.

Chillin'.

Each gob of sap that Andeon donned put Fallon more at ease, the fierce need to sink her teeth in to him settling to a manageable hum. Fallon could handle that -- the quiet desires shifting under her skin. Her fingers worked quietly over Snuzzles's ridged back, tapping out a happy rhythm. "Sue..." she said, trying to put a face to the name. "Oh, the dark-haired angry kid who loves cats." That was the extent of what Fallon knew of him. He did not seem particularly pleasant, and she did not particularly care about his existence. If Andeon considered his life worthless, then Fallon would certainly take it into consideration.

As for Mackenzie? Fallon wouldn't have thought to attack her. The girl was mouthy and rude at times, but Fallon had no major issue with her, despite the occasional annoyance over her pursuit of women Fallon might be interested in. Not Elle, though. Not Fallon's type. She pursed her lips together, tapping her clean nail against them. Yes, she'd have to go out and kill someone to satisfy the hunger, and as long as she was careful, she could avoid hurting anyone she cared about. It was a necessary compromise, and one that the controlled girl struck quietly with herself.

Her stomach rumbled, and Fallon put Snuzzles back on the ground, nudging him toward Andeon. "Andeon," she said, taking a quiet step backward. "You probably shouldn't trust me anymore." It was not a threat, or a warning. Just a fact that she shared with a friend, an annoying friend but one whose life she did not want to take. Snuzzles was like her; Snuzzles would understand and keep Andeon safe. As ridiculous as it was to put her faith in a headcrab, Fallon did -- if just for that moment.

Turning on her heel, she walked silently away, long hair brushing against her lower back with each step. First, she would need to find a spare uniform. Then, she would need to clean herself up. She should start with the most preserved places on campus to find Lucas, the places the survivors would find the most hospitable. And just like that, Fallon flipped a switch in her brain. She allowed herself to turn the unpredictability of these events into something she could schedule, in to a plan of action. Sure, that plan of action involved murdering a classmate, but as far as Fallon was concerned, it was a necessary coping mechanism for her newest compulsion -- and nothing more.