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 Posted: Sat May 29, 2010 11:43 pm
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Posted: Wed Jun 02, 2010 5:16 pm
Syranha was supposed to be taking inventory at the moment, but couldn't help but nearly drool over the one heart they had in stock. Much like a thief staring at a huge diamond, this heart was very significant to her. Of course, she was no thief, but they all knew very well how vital a heart was. And, being a zombie, she envied whoever would decide to buy this fresh, healthy heart. Hers was beginning to get a bit old, and now was the time to be looking for a new one. But like always, she would only buy something from the store if there was at least two or more of the item. Wouldn't want to have anything out of stock, after all. Interrupted by Godwik's call, she whipped her head around, a little too fast, and a piece of skin on her neck ripped in two. "Bah! Godwik, you really must stop all that yelling!" Standing, she muttered to herself, "Now I'm going to have to patch that up..." Although skin ripping was not painful, patching was tedious work. And, conscious of her image after being around a human for so long, Syranha took great care to do her patching neatly. The young zombie-woman stood from her crouch, and moved to the blood fridge, subconsciously glancing around to make sure Xerin wasn't nearby. When she opened it, the light did not come on. She shook her head, - more gently this time - for, almost every time she opened the fridge lately, the light did not come on. Syranha tightened it, noting the loose fit. They'd always lived with mismatched things, so this really wasn't a big deal. Moving back into the main room, she perched upon a stool, reaching into her pocket for her own personal sewing kit. Grabbing up a mirror that sat on the table (one of many, for customers liked to see how they looked after buying new appendages), she began to patch up the skin on her neck. "Godwik, we should really think about looking for some more hearts..." Sure, they would have to find someone who was not quite dead, but they had done that before. It certainly wasn't something that made Syranha unable to sleep at night.
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XThe Lily Of The ValleyX Vice Captain
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Posted: Thu Jun 03, 2010 12:39 pm
The tools were shiny. In fact, Xerin could almost see his face in them. It wasn't a narcissistic thing, no, but a curiosity. Why couldn't he see his own reflection in the mirror? His job, right now, was tool preparation, although for a good amount of time he just stood around, sometimes envying Syranha's job. When he really thought about it, he grudgingly admitted it was probably a good idea to keep Xerin from the blood packets and ammonia. Even though the main distractions were taken away, Xerin usually found a way to keep himself off task. In this case, shiny tools used to reattach and/or hack limbs off. For the most part, he did enjoy working in Godwik's shop. There was bloodpackets, living bodies that still contained blood (and, of course, Xerin sometimes snacked once or twice when gathering limbs), and it was a job different from all the other Zombie Jobs out there.
Xerin got back on task after a while. The tools had to be shined, made sure they worked, and to be in the right place. Godwik was usually the man who did the surgery, Xerin was not the vampire for that job. All that blood, that concentration...no, Xerin hadn't done a surgery for a while. The last time he had, they had 'lost' the client. Although we did gain a few limbs from that botched surgery... Again his cheerful self, Xerin looked at the hammers, wrenches, saws, and sewing kits. "I'm all done!" He shouted, tripping slightly over a trash can that blocked his way. It toppled over, spilling an excess of various squishy limbs, wrappers, and other miscellaneous garbage. Hurriedly, Xerin knelt down and happily began to scoop the tossed items back into the garbage. As he got up, he banged his head on the table, and blinked, momentarily stunned.
Glancing at the tools with pride (and a slight bump on the head) Xerin looked around the room. "Ripped your neck again, Syranha?" His tone was perpetually cheerful. As he sat on the last stool, he looked over to Godwik. "Maybe we should go looking for more hearts. How many hands do we have, too?" When gathering supplies, it was important to know what was low. It was a complete waste to only gather an eye of one person, when you could have their arms, legs, heart, maybe even a head. Not to mention Xerin was pretty hungry. Or thirsty, as the case may be.
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Posted: Thu Jun 03, 2010 3:16 pm
Syranha was examining her first few stitches in the mirror when Xerin spoke up. "That's right, we're low on hands as well. Only one left, I believe." Looking up, eyes glowing (literally), she growled slightly, more in excitement than anger, like she often did. Syranha was good with hiding, as well as sniffing out a decent spot to make a catch, and it was safe to say that going out to look for new parts was her favorite part of life at the moment. She went back to her stitching, breathing very lightly as to make the line neater. As she did so, she glanced up at Xerin, and noticed the bump on his head. He always seemed to be getting into trouble... they really did need to find something more for him to do. Finally, she was finished with her neck, and rolled up her stitching thread. Putting her materials away and stowing them safely in her pocket, she turned to Godwik. "Well, boss, what's the plan?"
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Posted: Fri Jun 04, 2010 2:35 pm
To say this woman was lost was an understatement. But then again, the one who was actually lost had to admit that they were, in fact, lost in order to solve that apparent problem. (Asking directions wasn't exactly hard.) Anya was not exactly an individual who would do that. Therefore, she was lost. And had been for some time. Which definitely did not help her in the situation that she had been trying to fix for some time now...
Anya was in need of some candy. Desperately. It turned out that the Sweet Shoppe she most frequently ventured to - and also happened to be the only one she knew of that catered to humans more so than any other creature - had recently relocated, for whatever the reason. (To be easier access to their clientele? Unsavoury creatures moving onto their street? Too many dropped and rotting limbs in the area? Who knew? There were so many explanations.) And of course they had to move onto some side-street that no one had ever heard of. And OF COURSE the map they had at the old location to get to the new location was wrong! After all, Anya had been able to find the place the map had directed her to. And had been met with a very kind elderly zombie couple who had cleared her up of the mix-up immediately – both being apologetic for not knowing where, or even hearing of, the street on the address was.
Now Anya found herself on some street she never heard of or recognized – lined with a few small stores – in a dingy area of Planet-Z, her map a scrunched angry ball three blocks back and the sugar in the red-headed woman’s bloodstream reaching dangerously to the level of which normal human adults had theirs. Honestly, maybe being a sugar junkie wasn’t the worse someone could be when it came to addiction – but, right at this moment, Anya’s only vice was currently driving her into the levels of uber-bitchiness. Anyone who got in her way should be afraid. Very afraid.
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Posted: Fri Jun 04, 2010 3:00 pm
"Hearts are cosmetic. We only take 'em when they're good," Godwik replied dryly when Syranha brought it up yet again. He had met zombies with less tact than her, but she was pretty close to first place. Every time they had a heart in stock--and it really was rare that they got one as fresh as this one--she went googly-eyed over it and would stare it like a dog begging for a treat until some sap bought it and asked for it to be installed. Godwik wasn't sure what the big deal about hearts was for zombies; they didn't have any blood, and it didn't matter if their insides fell out or turned to mush, because they honestly weren't even using them, but they tended to be rather vain about it all the same. One man had come in asking for a stomach and intestine combo, but Godwik hadn't even thought of collecting that kind of junk before. Just in case he ever came back, however, Godwik kept a pickled set on the lowest shelf. It was always good to have something to please everyone. That was his business motto. Or maybe the business motto was waste not, want not. It changed.
He finished swabbing down the table and turned to watch Xerin fall over himself. That was pretty typical too, but he snorted a laugh to show he cared. "We've got one hand," he answered, pointing to a small cooler. "We're gonna need more, I expect. Some bloke always wanders in with one or both missing. Low on eyes, too, and those go like candy. Not sure why, since they're the ones that fall out the most." He continued to mutter to himself as he dragged a sopping mop across the floor. Cleaning was not really Godwik's strong suit, and it usually led to more injury than anything else, but he insisted on having it done. He was the one that washed his hands obsessively after every patch up (and got more soapy water all over the place doing so), even though he'd never been sick a day in his life, and he was always the first to complain about how messy collecting parts was. Not that he really expected Xerin or Syranha to understand. They were dead (or undead) after all, and didn't have to worry about germs or stinks or the little beetles that liked to roost in the rotten stuff. Well, maybe they worried about the beetles, but that was only because the beetles liked to eat their skin.
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Posted: Fri Jun 04, 2010 3:26 pm
Syranha stood, and paced impatiently. "Well, you said it yourself: we need more stock. We should be on our way, then." Moving to the front door, she looked outside to see what the weather was like, and, probably more so to determine the time of day. The window was grimy, though, so she decided to poke her head outside. As she opened the door, she called quietly to Godwik, "Why do even you bother cleaning..." Although she was neater than many zombies, Syranha didn't see the point in mopping up the grime of life every five seconds. The zombie-woman opened the door wider, peering up into the gloom of the sky. Today, it was slightly less dark than yesterday. That was good. As she was about to close the door, she spied a human woman stomping up the street, though what the purpose was, she didn't know. There weren't many good shops on this road, except theirs, of course, and all they sold were tools and body parts - nothing a human would require. Syranha watched for a moment, eyes narrowed and then, after a good long stare with her glowing eyes, shut herself back into the shop. Immediately she had the feeling that the human would be upon them very soon.
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Posted: Sat Jun 05, 2010 7:35 am
Xerin kicked his legs on the stool, staring at the grime on the window. It was true, he didn't view cleanliness as importantly at Godwik, he was a bit more tidy than most zombies. "Is it night out yet?" Although he was almost always cheerful, Xerin was also undead. Therefore, he viewed night as a better time than day. Night, he knew, was good for a lot of things: sneaking, gathering limbs (and blood), and, of course, that was when most of the other vampires of Planet-Z came out in the light of the moon. Usually, though, most nights he had to go gather limbs. That was alright by Xerin, most of the vampires of Planet-Z he found slightly boring. They tried to chat with you, but there wasn't much to chat about when they stayed out of the daylight. "You see anything out there, Syranha?" Xerin asked, getting off the stool.
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XThe Lily Of The ValleyX Vice Captain
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Posted: Tue Jun 08, 2010 1:23 pm
Anya noticed the zombie woman peek her head out, but paid little heed to her. The store was still closed it seemed – after all the CLOSED sign was still flipped, for all to see – and Anya really had no intention to go after the female undead. It wasn’t like the female thief couldn’t figure out where she was anyway...
She continued to walk around the street for a few minutes before she actually passed the parts store – if one took homage to the sign on top. That was when she caught a stray thought. A stray human thought. Stopping in her tracks, Anya considered her options. She could continue to wander and around and probably stay lost for the rest of the day or go into the store and ask for directions. Anya could be a bit of a prideful creature, so she almost decided against it, but when another stray thought of the human male was overheard, the psychic made up her mind. She would ask the human inside for directions.
Now, don’t get Anya wrong, she isn’t a specisist – after all she steals from everyone – but Anya just felt better talking and being around other humans than the undead of zombies and vampires. It mainly had to do with the fact that the twenty-three year old was a very suspicious and wary person, and while her being psychic allowed this to live her life hearing the thoughts of others, it didn’t quite help with the supernatural population. You see, unlike humans who were basically open books to Anya, the undead of this world were much more difficult to pick up on. There weren’t silent t, but their thoughts were so dulled and soft – it was like a trying to listen in on a horrible mumbler. It made her feel unsafe with them, as it took too much concentration to listen to their every thought in their presence. That’s why this young woman would rather talk to a human.
So, with her inner ears preened for more stray thoughts, Anya banged on the metal door.
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Posted: Tue Jun 08, 2010 5:12 pm
Syranha whipped her head around - less of a 'whip' this time than a quick turn, for she'd learned of the dangers of an actually head-whip a few moments ago - to roll her eyes (and they literally rolled, since they weren't really attached to much) at Xerin. "You twit..." She muttered, only after Godwik spoke. Syranha jumped at the knock, but immediately knew who it was. "It's a human woman, Goddy..." The zombie raised her eyebrow, teasing, as she moved toward the door again. Before he could warn her against it, she opened the door, a cool and gently-cruel look in her eyes. "Are you in need of an arm or a hand, perhaps?" The zombie spoke rudely - her usual way - as she appraised the tattered-looking woman. Opening the door wider, she left room for the human to pass inside. Of course the woman wouldn't need those things, but Syranha knew how the humans on Planet-Z often hated to be treated like zombies. She turned and gave Xerin a hard stare, for she knew he was hungry, and the human all by herself in the dark room would surely entice him.
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XThe Lily Of The ValleyX Vice Captain
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Posted: Wed Jun 09, 2010 3:08 pm
"Oops." If vampires could blushed, Xerin would be a faint red. Sometimes Xerin did lose track of time, which was pretty bad for a vampire. "Sorry?" The apology was phrased as a question, as Xerin's apologies usually were. As Syranha opened the door, he was suprised to see a human. Usually a zombie would be out roaming the streets, having unfortunately lost a limb or two, trying to come in before business hours. Or it could be a burglar, but that was unlikely. "Hello." Xerin greeted the woman with one word, which was unlike the usual. However, Xerin wasn't sure whether or whether not this woman was going to stay at the shop, because as stated before, most zombies were kicked out when they were trying to get in the store before hours started. As he heard Syranha ask the human if she wanted a limb, he almost felt the need to speak up but then he realized that would make him look foolish. "Hey! I am hungry, but I know not to drink our customers!" There was an indignant tone in which Xerin spoke. One of the first lessons Xerin had learned was don't eat the clients unless they refused to pay up. That's exactly what he did.
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