Entry tags:

Test-Drive Meme!

TEST-DRIVE MEME

Maybe you've considered appping a new character but you're not sure how well they would adjust to the in-game scenario? Well, here's a chance to give it a try!

• Post with a character journal you'd like to voicetest or you've considered apping to Ruby City. Feel free to play them as newcomers or as if they've been here for a while - the setting is your own choice.

•Respond to other threads with new characters or with characters who are already in the game.

• Explore different interactions, find castmates, develop possible CR - anything you want, as long as you have fun!

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[When the door opens, the person who steps off onto the platform is..

Well, 'person' would be a loose definition.

His posture is uncertain, fingers clumsily gripping at one of the wooden pillars supporting the platform roof as he looks around with eyes holding the odd, misted-grey hue of the Dead. He swallows, a breath rattles in and out of a chest that no longer requires the action, and his free hand reaches up to touch a band-aid stuck to his forehead, as if reassuring himself of something.]

.. Julie.

[The name is softly muttered as he blinks, lurches forwards a step and moves with an awkward, slightly stiff gait that becomes slowly smoother as he walks, towards the station exit. It's not the purposeless, directionless shuffle of a zombie, but something just a little less than 'human'.

Not that he thinks of himself as anything other than human. That's just culturally insensitive.]

Edited 2013-01-24 23:09 (UTC)

_{[Dean's been here for a while. Maybe not long by standards of what other people have done, but this is damn sure the longest he's been in a place when he could help it. Well. He can't help being here either. It's friggin' great. There's nothing he loves more than being cooped up in some town with a bunch of monsters he actually can't kill because everyone in this city knows he's a hunter and would probably be retaliation unless one of said monsters hurt someone.

But in that case, Dean would be out of fucks to give and would have no choice but to gank them.

None of it really stops Dean from making his usual round anyway, such as he is now. He makes his around about the city, eventually getting to the train station. It's then that he finally sees something out of the ordinary. Normally, he doesn't think twice about the condition people arrive in this city. But there's something off about the person he sees from a distance.

It's the way he moves.

Frowning, Dean proceeds with caution and stops a few yards away from the guy. It gives him enough distance to pull out his gun and cock it before the guy can get any gain on him, should it come to that. It's always better to be save than sorry.

Shoot first, ask questions later.

That's normally his philosophy, anyway. It's harder to do that when ammunition is hard to come by. That works out well for every bloodsucker and shifter in the goddamn city, much to his chagrin.

Finally, he clears his throat.]}

You ok, buddy? You're staggering.

[Don't stop don't stop don't stop...

Damn.

R stops as Dean speaks to him, swaying a little before he steadies himself. He keeps his head lowered, eyes down - even in the dim light of a winter evening, if he's caught in a street light the colour of his eyes and grey hue to his skin is obvious. His tongue feels heavy in his mouth - one day without speaking and he's already rusty - and he mutter-slurs his way around the words as he replies.]

... I'm fine... thank you.

_{[He's the type that's definitely quick to judge, but it comes with the job description. So he's not leaving just yet. Nor is he moving closer.]}

Is talking normally hard for you?

[The pause before he speaks again is just a little too long. Questions are still difficult to navigate around, even if his thought patterns have been so much more organised lately.]

Not used.. to talking. I'm fine.

_{[This is when Dean decides to take a couple steps forward. His hand reaches back to his waistband to pull out his gun. The intention to use it isn't there; it's just that this guy isn't seeming any more normal.]}

Yeah, no. I don't think you are. What's going on with you? Are you... infected with something?

[Wince. He cringes inwardly.

Why, no, sir, I've just had a little too much to drink. Really, I'm fine!

It sounds great in his head, but all that makes its way out of his mouth is a stunted groan. R steps back, not wanting Dean to get any closer to him.. more for his own safety than Dean's.]

_{[THERE GO THOSE ALARM BELLS DEAN WAS WAITING FOR. Ding ding ding this guy can't be human; he's like something right out of Night of the Living Dead. Save for... well, less black and white.

There isn't hesitation anymore. The zombie's gotta go. But there's one thing that's bugging Dean. That's why instead of just shooting him, Dean pushes quickly closes the distance and pushes him against the wall. The barrel of the gun presses against the side of R's head.]}

There's one of two things going on right now and it would be in your best interest to help me out here. See, Halloween's been over. So you've had the misfortune of being thrown several months ahead or you're a friggin' zombie.

You know what the problem with that is, right? Zombies don't talk.

[All the air being kept in R's chest for the purpose of attempting to rebuff Dean's accusations is driven out in a rattling wheeze as he hits the wall. There's no hiding it now - the corpse-like pallor of his skin, the greyed eyes, the lack of pulse and Living body temperature.

He stares, wordless, for several painful seconds, feeling the barrel of the gun digging into his temple. One shot, and he'd be gone.]

No.

[His eyes slide shut. Julie's face flashes through his mind. He makes a sound suspiciously close to a whimper.]

Please. I want to.. stay. Want to.. live. Please.

Edited 2013-01-25 01:08 (UTC)

_{[This is one of the most fucked up situations Dean's been in. Usually the zombies don't talk back. They just make unintelligible grunting noises and try to eat you.]}

Why should I let you do that? Dealing with a zombie apocalypse isn't exactly at the top of my bucket list.

[Dean's probably never seen a zombie with the level of intelligence that R shows in his expression alone, never mind one that talks. He knows the gun can kill him, and he's visibly trying to shy away from it.

R is remarkably well preserved for one of the Dead and he knows it. It's no indicator as to his age. Some of them fall apart and drop where they stand in months, even weeks, and some of them continue on for years, barely decomposing. R thought that it was something to do with how much they wanted it.

Some of them just gave up.]

I need to.. find..

[He winces away from the gun again.]

.. Julie.

_{[It's needless to say, this entire situation has Dean questioning everything he knows about zombies. Obviously, this guy is some sort of exception. But why? How?]}

Julie? Hate to break it to you, but there isn't a Julie here.

_{[He actually doesn't know that, but he can't be sure that this guy doesn't have the intention to hunt this Julie down to hurt her. It wouldn't surprise him in the least.]}

[The things that happen when you go to the train station. Stiles had been minding his own business, thank you, finishing his lunch, when he spotted that. That...person. Thing. maybe? Walking, and he choked on what he was eating, dropping it in the flail of limbs that he uses to propel himself behind a bush and out of the way with a loud--] Oh my God!

[Complete with food in his mouth. Popping up from behind the bush, he stares at him.

That's a zombie.

That is a fucking zombie are you kidding him right now.]

[Said zombie looks, if anything, just as startled and stumbles away from the source of the sudden noise. He stares, tilts his head to one side in curiosity..

.. then timidly raises one hand and twitches his fingers in greeting.]

... Hi.

[And then he shrieks.]

HOLY GOD.

[SHIT SHIT SHIT IT SAW HIM SHIT HIS ZOMBIE CONTINGENCY PLAN DOESN'T APPLY IN PLAGUETOWN WHY ISN'T HE HOME IN BEACON HILLS]

[R hunches his shoulders, taking a step back away from the panicking Living and raising both his hands up, palms empty.]

Stop. Won't.. hurt you.

[He lowers his hands slowly.]

... Please. I need.. help.

Yeah, okay, you know who else said that, the terrifying wolf that slammed my face into a car!

[...but, he stops at the second sentence, squinting at him. Okay, he can talk to him from a distance.] So you aren't some kind of precursor to the zombie apocalypse that the city's hellbound on putting us through for shits and giggles? Because if you're not planning on being the Allstate Zombie then I'm armed. [...with a baseball bat.]

[He gives a slow, jerky shake of his head to the question, keeping his eyes steadily on Stiles. His mind is racing, but as ever, his lips and tongue and limited language are failing his cognitive abilities. If he could, he'd explain to Stiles what he is, what he was doing, he'd have so many questions, but he the words flutter like delicate insects just out of his grasp, dissolving to nothing when he manages to touch them.

R draws in a quick breath through his nose so he can speak.]

Not going.. to hurt. Won't.. eat.

[There's the tiniest ghost of a smile.]

Just talk.

[He takes out the trusty baseball bat and points it at him, but--he's not really looking like he's going to attack. Stiles is scared, hell yes he's scared, but he's also got a good head on his shoulders and as much as he'd like to kill it with fire (not literally, unfortunately), he's not about to miss out on this chance. It could not be homicidal. Maybe.

Besides how often do you get to say you've talked to a zombie?] Weee can totally talk from right here. Me here, and you...you, far over there.

.. Okay.

[Sure. Sure, he can do that. R looks around. The posters might tell him something, if he could read them, but the letters swim and refuse to form into words.

It's about a minute before he realises he's been staring at one of the posters for long enough that it might be assumed he's zoned out, and he glances back over at Stiles.]

Me over here. You.. there. [Pause.] Where.. is this?

[Thank the Lord he's not coming to eat him. A little suspiciously, Stiles shifts backwards in the bush, lowering his baseball bat. He's talking to a zombie and it's like.

Talking back.

This is the weirdest/coolest/most terrifying thing he's ever done, and Stiles Stilinski has done some weird/cool/terrifying things in his life.

It makes sense that he can't read, he figures out, and responds to him a little slowly, trying to wrap his head around everything without having another freakout.] It's...called Ruby City. It's basically like if A Tale of Two Cities and Thriller had a baby, minus the zombies. Well, until now.

[R has always been talkative.

For a Dead person.

He nods slowly as he absorbs the new information, one thumb rubbing against two fingertips in a small, nervous gesture. He's not sure what to make of this. He'd been resting, and then..]

How.. do I leave?

(no subject)

hypercompetent - 2013-01-25 01:32 (UTC) - Expand

(no subject)

keephersafe - 2013-01-30 03:34 (UTC) - Expand

[Anita wasn't sure if it was her sensitivity that came with being a necromancer, the less-than-fabulous 'gift' she'd been bestowed by Jean-Claude, or just good old-fashioned experience that pulled her towards the train station. As she got closer to the station, the power she felt only grew stronger, strong enough to be familiar.

Whatever it was that had arrived on the most recent train, damn, it was dead. She knew it before she even laid eyes on him, but when she finally arrived and spotted the source of the pull, she pressed her lips together into a thin line. Yep. Definitely dead. Or undead, as the case may be.

Well. He could have run into worse people than her, that was for sure. She raised an eyebrow as she approached, her movements slow and careful as she approaches him in front of the station, not wanting to startle him or seem aggressive. She had seen plenty of zombies whose fight-or-flight instincts kicked into high gear at the slightest movement. Wouldn't want that, now.]

Hey. Are you okay?

[He stalls when he hears her, stops, and looks up carefully, keeping his head low enough that she can't see his eyes.]

... Yes.

[It takes just a moment too long to form the words, but he speaks clearly, if with a faint edge of almost, but not quite, breathlessness.]

I'm okay.

[...This is unexpected. He hadn't expected to meet another member of the zombie branch of the living impaired club, especially not here. He approaches R, keeping his movements slow enough to not come off as threatening or sudden. He's never been around another zombie before, he really has no idea what he's doing.]

Do you need help?

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only