[PLOT] That's no ordinary rabbit

[northrend]

Date & Time: All day Friday, December 14th and onward.
Location: Initiate Hold
Characters: All
Summary: The plague has taken hold and there are rampant, angry undead critters running around! Better get rid of them quick, before you attract the Scourge Horde.
Warnings: Undead attacks, localized around cute woodland critters.

[The death tolls of all the woodland animals had come around the same time. Some lasted longer than others, but for the most part, it appeared that most of the sickly animals had passed sometime in the middle of the night. The next morning, transports would awaken to find their furry friends looking...well, less than furry. Their eyes glow a sickly yellow, patches of fur fall off their body, and they continuously cry for help.

Help from whom? You?

Or the group of rampaging ghouls charging toward you?]


[ooc: Original plot post is here!. If you would like me to NPC ghoul attacks in your thread, please mark your subject line with three asterisks. (***) Otherwise, feel free to do it amongst yourselves! Please note that I won't be able to NPC threads until tomorrow afternoon.]

Comments

[sharpe]

[ Sharpe hears the tail-end of it, but he respectfully keeps a distance until she stops talking. He follows her gaze up to the skies before flickering back to her. ]

Aye. Makes me think what can be so bad 'ere that people's avoiding it.

[ Or maybe it's just that they're not braving the stairs or the height. If not for the zombies, Sharpe wouldn't have come up here either. ]

Never stops raining here, does it? [ He looks down at his clothes. ] Don't even got the chance to wash me clothes in this damned weather.

[feyted]

They do have washing machines, you know.

( Mia pulls her raincoat around herself more tightly, wandering toward the edge of the rooftop. )

They pay you enough for at least a change of clothes to wear while the rest washes.

( Hell, he would wander around naked if he wanted. It wasn't illegal yet around here. )

[sharpe]

[ Sharpe leans against the railing, looking downwards. There aren't any shambling figures right at those moment, but he's keeping his eyes down anyhow. But he's still listening to Mia, and he snorts at those words. ]

I've seen those clothes they're selling, and none of 'em make any sense. [ By which he means: they don't look familiar. ] 'sides, I'm a Rifleman, and I ain't going ta wear other clothes when me uniform's good enough.

[ Pause, and he turns over to grin at her. ]

I don't smell that bad, do I?

[feyted]

Horrible.

( It's blunt and honest, which is about what she expects him to expect form her. )

Though the dead guys down there might have you beat, for what it's worth.

( She sends him a half-grin in return, to the point where she's attempting to normalize through joking. There isn't as much going on down below as she expected, though a few shambling corpses appear to be waltzing down the road. )

[sharpe]

[ Sharpe lifts an arm and turns his head, taking a long deep breath of himself. He can't smell much beyond the thick cake of gunpowder that seems to have been pressed straight into his skin, and that smells horrid enough already - of rotten eggs and burnt trees. Sharpe takes a slightly deeper breath and tries to find the rank scent of sweat- but he gives it up after a second and makes a face. ]

Not by much. [ Dryly. ] The smell of gunpowder ain't poison, though I don't smell of rot, at least.

[ A pause. And he leans back onto the railing, looking at Mia for a long moment. ]

You alright there, ma'am?

[feyted]

I'm in the far future and zombies are real.

( Ghosts she's used to. She smiles, feeling exertion catch up with her. The side of the roof she leans again becomes support. Just for a moment. )

All things considered? I'm doing better than I thought I would. And you, Major?

[sharpe]

[ He chuckles slightly, reaching out and dropping his arm over Mia's shoulders, pulling her slightly closer so she can lean against him then against the roof. He probably shouldn't, given that she's told him he's smelled bad at all, but it's an instinct for Sharpe, now, to do that. ]

I've got an enemy ta shoot at and a war ta fight. [ Wryly. ] 'Cept fer the dripping flesh, it's just like 'ome. I'm alright, ma'am.

[ He pauses, looking at her for a long moment. ]

You can sleep here, if you like. I'd be keeping a watch out, so it'd be safe.

[feyted]

( He smells terrible. Really. Mia startles, something she turns into a dry laugh. )

One war into another? You're not getting the prettiest picture of human history.

( She can appreciate the intent, but she's stood on her own for a long time now. She thinks briefly of Diego, closing her eyes as she pats Sharpe's arm. It's one form of reassurance as she turns and pulls herself away, looking to pace the rooftop between where they stood and the bulk of the elevator's top pulleys and cableworks. )

I don't think I'll be much for sleeping tonight. But thank you.

[sharpe]

[ He lets her go, crossing his arms and leaning against the side of the railing instead. She reminds him, just a little, of Teresa, of a strong woman who doesn't need his help for anything because she's perfectly capable of doing it all on her own. That if his help is ever asked for, it's what she wants, and somehow that makes it all the better.

(Sometimes he wonders if he has ever truly loved Jane at all, or if he has just married her because she was beautiful, she was in need, and Sharpe had known he would never find another woman like Teresa. It's not a very pleasant thought, not for Jane or himself, but the more he thinks of it, the more he thinks it might be true. Lucille doesn't ever need him the way Jane does. He needs her more, for she gives him a safe place, a secure place, somewhere that he can rest his shoulders after the constant war.

But Jane had needed him- or rather, Jane needed someone, and he was convenient. She hadn't really needed him at all, and isn't that the most bitter pill to swallow?)

Sharpe snorts quietly, giving Mia a crooked smile as he pushes away his thoughts. ]

There ain't pretty pictures of human history that I've ever seen. Not in the place I've been. No pretty pictures of human present either, though there's plenty of pretty ladies. [ Grins.

In any case: ]

I ain't telling you stories if yer staying awake. I'm not the one good at tales.

[feyted]

( It's enough of a nonsensical to get Mia to pause in her pacing, one hand unwinding from its distracted grip on her jacket over her breastbone. She smiles, shaking her head. )

That's fine. If we need stories, I can manage that much. Even if it's been a while since I've told Maya a bedtime story.

( It would be a cold and bitter night, worse if she didn't hear back from Maya. But it would be okay. She firmly believed in that.

There was nothing else that she could allow herself to do. It's about the only reason she keeps smiling. Time for tears, if any are coming, after everything is done. )