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Interesting Conversationalist
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 Posted: Thu Dec 03, 2009 5:05 pm
From a completely objective point of view, it was a miracle that she had survived the night, although she would disagree on the word 'miracle.' No weapon, hardly shelter to speak of, completely alone... that was the only way it could be classified as. To her it was a damn shame. The sound of birds singing first nudged her into consciousness, her eyes squeezing shut for a second before flickering open, looking around blearily.
How the birds could still be chirping was completely beyond her.
For several minutes, Mackenzie stayed where she was laying on the step, green eyes wandering idly. The door at the top of the stairs was open just a crack, sunlight streaming through, illuminating the grayed-out steps, making them seem almost cheerful. She didn't appreciate it. Any other time and she might have, but at the moment, the redhead was feeling especially melancholy, a dull knot of emotion scabbed over in her chest.
Andeon was dead. To be fair, almost everyone in 'Zombie Pines' was dead, but there were only a few that could make Micky feel the way she did. Two, to be entirely precise. Ironically, she had killed both of them -- something that only added to the mental ******** she was experiencing. Both times she had done so without hesitation, the terrible understanding of her 'duty' taking over. Elle had been more than her friend or neighbor. Elle had been her lover, her vice-buddy. The only one who hadn't judged her incessant drinking, who had been there at three in the morning, when neither of them could sleep. Her loss had been the first real loss Mack had ever really experienced, and with the dream she had had that night, she had taken it especially hard.
She'd been strong though.
Pushing her upper body up off the step, Mackenzie groaned, wincing as her back cracked audibly. In retrospect, sleeping on unpadded steps had been a bad idea. She was sore and stiff, and every muscle in her entire body ached as she stood, stumbling a little as she regained her balance, letting the fleece blanket hang loose around her shoulders. Peering down the stairs into the semi-darkness, the redhead let out a slightly pained sigh, letting the blanket drop as she began the trek towards Tallahassee base.
Andeon had been her savior from her grief. When they had first awoken to find themselves in a room with no doors, a black box giving them instructions, Mack had been nonplussed. Elle's memory had been more prominent in her mind than worrying about why they were playing the game. She hadn't really cared why they were doing it. Drinking had seemed like a good alternative to the sadness she had been feeling. The others in the room had also just been accessories to the alcohol, nothing to worry about but nothing to invest in. It had been Andeon's antics which had brought her back from her self-centered sorrow, reminding her why she liked people. After they had escaped, it had been Andeon who had found her. Despite the carnage, he brightened the dank surroundings. And when she had killed Elle, now in zombie form, it had been he who comforted her. It had hurt, it had hurt so bad, but he had been there, and it was bearable He had stood beside her to the end, through it all.
And then last night... the smoking gun in her hand... Andeon's body lolling lifelessly in the zombie's hand...
Pushing open the door to the second floor, Micky curled her arm around the square pillar-like corner, shutting her eyes tight to stop the cascade of tears she knew was coming. Half swinging around it, she let her hand linger against the concrete before letting it go, palm coming to rest on the knob to the first-floor staircase.
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Posted: Thu Dec 03, 2009 6:01 pm
And there, standing on the other side of the door as if she had waited for many hours, stood Elle. It was as if the ex-student had sensed her presence, was drawn to it, inexorably and powerfully, and knew that she was here all along. Her broken neck was green around the edges, the green of youma skin. Clawed hands hung at her sides, hair mussed, her uniform bloodied and torn in so many places that it barely resembled the Barren Pines uniform any longer. Torn skin spread as a smile slowly appeared on Elle's face. Her teeth showed no signs of a recent meal, as though Elle had not feasted at all.
And she hadn't.
She was saving this hunger, this terrible hunger, for one person and one person only.
"Micky," she rasped, her voice the gravely impression of a mutated and rotting larynx, reaching for her as though to hug her, and there was perhaps a hint of softness in her yellow eyes, a glimmer of the girl that Elle used to be, before everything went to s**t. For just a moment, she might have been the old Elle, the one that baked space cakes in front of a Student Council representative in the school kitchen, that came into Micky's room without knocking at all hours of the night and mocked her Irish accent when they both got too drunk to even be coherent.
But it was Elle no longer. The hunger reached out from the darkest place inside of her and obliterated the harmless, occassionally affectionate stoner. That fleeting expression was gone, replaced with a savage look befitting of a monster.
"It was so easy for you, wasn't it, O'Connell? Killing me?"
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Interesting Conversationalist
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Posted: Thu Dec 03, 2009 6:32 pm
Micky was startled, physically jerking back in a shock that was not merely because it was Elle who was standing there, staring back at her, her neck very very broken. The fact that anyone had been there at all made the adrenaline shoot through her body, initiating a very strong fight or flight instinct in her. Under normal circumstances, ie not a zombie apocalypse, the dark-haired girl would have decked whoever it was, just on impulse. Throw fists first, jump around like a jackrabbit on crack second. Things had changed quite a bit since then. For one, zombies were much more dangerous anything you could have met pre-apocalypse.
"E-Elle?!"
Snapping her body back in a Matrix-like motion, Micky took a few steps backward, scrambling away from Elle. Adrenaline didn't care if you were depressed -- when something unexpected happened, it tried to get your body out of there. There could be no apathy when you were startled. Her hands reached out blindly, searching for something, anything, a weapon that she could protect herself with. She had long since lost her bat, abandoned when she had picked up that gun the night before to shoot at Linarite. Without it, she was naked, vulnerable, and very susceptible to the hunger the zombies were feeling. At the rasp of her name, however, Mackenzie paused, going shock-still as she stared into Elle's eyes, her face contorted with fear and pain.
Those eyes. So familiar. Always so teasing and warm, even when they had fought.
Stumbling away from the outstretched arms, Mack gave a quick glance behind her before returning her gaze back to Elle, her breath coming in heavy, terrified pants, hands still empty and devoid of a weapon. As the blood started pumping normally, however, she began to feel more and more of the guilt weighing heavily on her limbs, clawing at the inside of her chest. She couldn't say anything in response. It didn't matter, in the end. What was she suppose to say? 'I was trying to save you.' Her eyes flickered to her obviously-broken neck, another pang of sickness washing over her.
Mackenzie stared back at her lover, expression wistful, filled with a hollow apology she couldn't give. Her nightmares, always so vivid, didn't compare to this.
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Posted: Thu Dec 03, 2009 6:54 pm
"Shh, shh," Elle raised her enlongated fingers in a mockery of a calming gesture, hushing the obviously terrified Micky. She advanced a few steps, her feet, still in beaten-up boots, crunching on the fire-damaged flooring, her head lolling to one side slightly. She shouldn't even be able to walk, yet she came anyway, standing out of reach, as if she were giving Micky space, treating the redhead like a frightened animal that might bite if pushed too far.
"It's me, Micky. Don't look so scared," the youma reassured her with an unsmiling face. She was slightly offended, unreasonably, she assumed, but there was no logic left. Only the hunger.
"I didn't want to hurt you. But you..." she pulled back her lips in a snarl. With inhuman speed she was upon her, arms curling around her in a crushing embrace, looming to fill all of her vision. She brought her face inches from Micky's, breath rank, claws starting to dig into her flesh.
"I've been waiting for you, Mackenzie O'Connell," she hissed, and, unbelievably, she kissed her, numb, death-bleached lips against Micky's. And the claws slowly tightened.
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Interesting Conversationalist
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Posted: Thu Dec 03, 2009 8:45 pm
"Elle... Elle get back..."
Even to her, the protest sounded weak, her whine pathetic.
Mackenzie let out a sharp scream of terror, flailing out wildly as those lightning-fast arms coiled around her, not fast enough to escape Elle's grasp. The first feeling of constriction, and she went silent, curling up as much as she could as that decomposed face leaned in, feeling like a mouse in the grasp of a snake. Irrationally, she thought of her science teacher, standing up at his podium as he discussed how a constrictor coiled around its pray, suffocating it, squeezing the breath from its lungs before consuming it whole. That was she was, she was the prey, and Elle was the snake, but she wouldn't devour her whole. No, she would eat her slowly, rip the flesh from her bones, just as she had seen done to Fluffy.
These thoughts, panicked and terror-stricken, gave rise to a soft cry of protest as she felt those lips press against hers in a crushing kiss. Her mouth wasn't anything like it had been when she was alive. Warm and soft before, the rotting flesh was surprisingly cold and less solid than she had initially thought, giving sickeningly against hers. What would have once sent her into a blissful euphoria now turned her stomach, every nerve screaming as she thrashed against the black-haired zombie, trying desperately to get away, tears welling up in her eyes. No. She didn't want to relive this.
The feeling of Elle's clammy lips lingered on Mack's even as she pulled forcefully out of the kiss, quivering and shaking in fear, her nerves completely shot. "Elle, let me go," she pleaded, sobbing quietly, her fists clutching the front of her uniform. Those arms, so surprisingly strong, pinned her own to her sides, keeping her still as she dug her fingers into her, Micky arching away from them with a choked gasp. "Don't do this to me... You were dead... you are dead..."
That last word, barely whispered, sounded strangled, her throat constricting painfully as she bit back more tears. In a sudden burst of strength, she struggled again, driven by the cascade of memories came crashing down over her head. Who she had been before, the pot-headed punk girl who resisted authority in her own silent way. What she had seen her as, a reanimated corpse, hearing the bones in Elle's neck snap again in her mind. All of it, the good and the bad overwhelmed her, torturing her from the inside in a way that no one but she and Andeon could. Let me go, let me go please let me go! I don't want to do this! I don't want to do this anymore, I can't do this anymore! I'm not strong!
Going limp, Mackenzie continued to sob, her head turned away at a painful angle. Anything to not look at Elle.
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Posted: Fri Dec 04, 2009 10:17 am
Elle's claws bit into Mack's skin harshly, drawing blood, shredding her already shredded uniform, her eyes wild, ignoring how she pleaded with her. If only she could make Micky a part of her, let her know how much she'd occupied her thoughts, how hungry she was for her in all of the wrong ways. In the madness of Zombie Pines, when every good thing had been corrupted, even her fondness for Micky had morphed into this. There was no way to resist it, skin crawling green, an empty cavity in her chest where her heart had been.
She felt how tense and shaky Micky was against her, taking perverse delight in what she knew was going to happen and savored all of the pain and terror she was inflicting. As she tore away from the kiss, Elle's long canines ripped into her lip, but she let go, leaving her bloodied but not lipless, head wobbling dangerously on a broken neck. She licked Micky's blood from her own lower lip, the taste so sweet, so right, she knew that this was how it was supposed to be. Her ironlike grip didn't relax, but she didn't dig her claws further in, smelling the blood, the sour scent of fear and adrenaline.
She held her so tightly, dispassionately, as Micky struggled bravely against her. Brave was the only word. Even in her terror, she didn't give up, until Elle's crushing grasp on her remained so unyeilding that she went limp. "It must be so hard for you," Elle murmured, dragging her claws down her back, hardly taking note of her protests, far more interested in her neck. Even under the grime of days' worth of living during a zombie apocalypse, she had a beautiful neck.
"It'll all be over soon, Micky," she promised, her teeth grazing the skin close to her throat, a horrible mockery of intimacy that they would never have again. And as she sank in her fangs, severing the jugular vein, a wave of relief and euphoria rushed over her with such intensity that she inadvertently sank her claws a few inches into her back, holding her tight as she tore into her, sucking up that sweet blood greedily. Yes, God, Devil, whoever was out there, this is what she had wanted, this is what would master that impossible hunger.
It was so easy. Killing her. And it was such a pleasure to eat her.
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Interesting Conversationalist
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Posted: Sat Dec 05, 2009 4:36 pm
"O-oww..."
It hurt. It hurt more than she would have thought, for such a minor thing as a cut lip. It startled her, and she jerked a little, tense but not really trying to escape anymore. She didn't dare lick her lip, nauseated by the level of decay, her stomach flopping around in her gut as she stared at Elle's mouth, her own blood on that tongue, the zombie's twisted expression sending a cold flood through her gut. The seriousness of the situation was slowly becoming apparent, and it terrified her, her mind scrambling for a way to escape, self preservation prominent in her mind. She didn't want to die. Despite all that had happened, the hell of the school, the zombies that threatened her every second of every day, her mind still told her she wanted to live.
"Stop! Stop Elle, stoppit, it hurts..."
Again, Micky let out a pitiful whimper, squeezing her eyes shut, even the soft graze of teeth sending her into fits, her body shaking despite herself. So. Everything had come to this. Surviving the poison, the fire, nights of zombies... all for nothing. She was so scared. Before this, it had never dawned on her she might die. Sure, the thought had always been there, in the back of her mind, but she had never believe it. It was almost funny, how much in denial she had been, after all this time. She was so scared.
She was going to die. No god could save her now. No god could save any of them.
Hanging there in Elle's arms, Micky let her head loll back, weak and powerless in those arms, her face turned away from the zombie. Tears were trickling from the corners of her eyes as she stared blankly at the ceiling, and overwhelming feel of helplessness overcoming her. 'It'll all be over soon, Micky.' And she knew it would be. Elle had never lied to her. As those teeth sank into her neck, Mackenzie O'Connell let out a piercing scream, her body going rigid as Elle ripped into the flesh of her neck, tearing her jugular in one jerked motion, the blood gurgling from her throat like a faucet as she arched, her eyes widening beyond their normal capacity. The pain was swift and short, but during the time it was there, it consumed her, her nerve of her body on fire as she screamed at the ceiling. It didn't last long. She could feel the energy leaving her body as clearly as she felt every piece of skin ripped from her neck.
Within seconds her body went limp in Elle's arms, eyes still pointed to the ceiling, unseeing. She died quickly. You didn't survive a severed jugular.
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