Zinc ☠ Carla's a Goner (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
jemerite) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
queenoflogs2011-07-17 01:06 pm
jemerite) wrote in queenoflogs2011-07-17 01:06 pm
i want you here (open)
Characters: ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
jemerite and You (open)
Date: July 17th
Summary: He can't do this to her.
Warnings: Zinc's world is vaguely offensive in its necrophilia? Her narrative can be kind of gory. She thinks about killing things, a lot.
She wakes up cold.
She's often cold, unless sitting in open sunlight, or curled up next to the heating unit that does a poor job of keeping Barbet's large studio warm in the wintertime. She hated the cold, really, it was a constant reminder of the stillness in her chest, but what she hated the most was waking up cold, like she'd been dead the whole night through. Barbet shouldn't have left her, she hates when he does and she usually wakes up as soon as he stirs because it's cold and it's lonely--(perhaps the loneliness is the worst. She... she hates that feeling, she wants to rip it out of her mind and ruin it forever.)
There is a moue of discontent on her lips already as she sits up, but it does not take her long to see things are very changed. And she knows exactly what's happened.
He's abandoned her. He'd drugged her and left her out here in the woods to die. The certainty of it rocks her, and causes a deep twisting sensation in her stomach. Hate. Hurt. Misery.
"Barbet?" She looks around herself, but all she sees is the cat approaching with the scroll in its mouth. Zinc hisses at it furiously, settled forward on her hands and knees like an angry little animal. The cat seems nonplussed, but it sits down, tail swishing. Zinc ignores it as she gets to her feet unsteadily, looking around again, sees only trees and she can't smell him anywhere. How is she meant to track him down and kill him if he's erased his scent?
"You can't!" She shouts, hands curling into fists, her well-kept nails biting into her palms with the fury of it. He would scold her for that. "You did this!"
She sees the path out of the clearing and begins to follow it, but what she sees only deepens her despair and that cat is following her. "I will eat you, if you do not get away from me," she snarls gutturally at the fluffy thing. Its eyes narrow at her, smug and nonreactive. She hisses, but carries on walking.
All she finds is forest and field. And, eventually, she drops down into the grass and simply begins to scream. Wordless, furious, keening. He can't do this to her. She can't even weep in this decaying body, and it's his fault that she has the desire to at all.
[ooc; I always write log openers in prose, but feel free to switch to action.]
jemerite and You (open)Date: July 17th
Summary: He can't do this to her.
Warnings: Zinc's world is vaguely offensive in its necrophilia? Her narrative can be kind of gory. She thinks about killing things, a lot.
She wakes up cold.
She's often cold, unless sitting in open sunlight, or curled up next to the heating unit that does a poor job of keeping Barbet's large studio warm in the wintertime. She hated the cold, really, it was a constant reminder of the stillness in her chest, but what she hated the most was waking up cold, like she'd been dead the whole night through. Barbet shouldn't have left her, she hates when he does and she usually wakes up as soon as he stirs because it's cold and it's lonely--(perhaps the loneliness is the worst. She... she hates that feeling, she wants to rip it out of her mind and ruin it forever.)
There is a moue of discontent on her lips already as she sits up, but it does not take her long to see things are very changed. And she knows exactly what's happened.
He's abandoned her. He'd drugged her and left her out here in the woods to die. The certainty of it rocks her, and causes a deep twisting sensation in her stomach. Hate. Hurt. Misery.
"Barbet?" She looks around herself, but all she sees is the cat approaching with the scroll in its mouth. Zinc hisses at it furiously, settled forward on her hands and knees like an angry little animal. The cat seems nonplussed, but it sits down, tail swishing. Zinc ignores it as she gets to her feet unsteadily, looking around again, sees only trees and she can't smell him anywhere. How is she meant to track him down and kill him if he's erased his scent?
"You can't!" She shouts, hands curling into fists, her well-kept nails biting into her palms with the fury of it. He would scold her for that. "You did this!"
She sees the path out of the clearing and begins to follow it, but what she sees only deepens her despair and that cat is following her. "I will eat you, if you do not get away from me," she snarls gutturally at the fluffy thing. Its eyes narrow at her, smug and nonreactive. She hisses, but carries on walking.
All she finds is forest and field. And, eventually, she drops down into the grass and simply begins to scream. Wordless, furious, keening. He can't do this to her. She can't even weep in this decaying body, and it's his fault that she has the desire to at all.
[ooc; I always write log openers in prose, but feel free to switch to action.]
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"You go back, and everything's like you never left and no time passed. Don't ask me, it's all some kind of 'magic.'" For 'magic,' read 'bullshit.'
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"There is no such thing as magic," she protests with a frown.
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"Barbet will not know? That I've gone?"
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"Y'know, there's gotta be an easier way for you to get around... I bet we could set up a chair for you or something."
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"It worsens, in stillness." The same way her speech did if she failed to talk for too long, if Barbet ignored her for too long. She has to badger him incessantly for him to practice her French with her.
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"You'll probably get a lot of opportunity to exercise here. Lots of walking."
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She procures one of the brochures (http://notvitiligo.livejournal.com/2099.html) on the front desk and hands it over helpfully. "Should be pretty up-to-date."
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Zinc accepts the brochure and delicately takes a seat in order to read through it. She trusts this much more than she would have trusted a scroll dropped in front of her by a snooty cat. She is pleased to read that there is an arcade, video games were one of the few ways she kept herself entertained, interspersed with large puzzles and crosswords.
"The food," of course that is the first thing she asks after. "It is ours, to take?"
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She couldn't eat anything else, and it wasn't what she really wanted, but only feeders were allowed to be consumed, and she doubts there are any lurking in the countryside. She can't go hunting for herself, the animal would delight in that too much, she would never get her mind back.
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"Thank you." She's not really a particularly polite person, but... when food was involved, she did not like to take any chances.
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