(no subject)

[shambler]

Who|| R and [Semi-Open] – PM me if you want to bump into him so I can write a prompt.
What|| R wakes up to realize he’s a zombie all over again and the Cure, in fact, wasn’t a cure after all. He’ll be in a funk. Mostly he’ll be blocking traffic (cue finding him in the District 4 shower, creepy-staring, or else where). Basically R needs cheering up, pep-talks, even the awkward ones telling him he’s better off as a zombie.
Where|| Around the Tribute Tower and Training Center. Also District 4’s suite.
When|| After reviving in the Capitol from Howard mercy-killing him and before the next Arena. Basically a catch-all.
Warnings| Zombie references, depressed zombies.

Prompts in the comments for each character. Heads up I may be slow posting, so a post per day or every other day (so backtag central?).

Comments

Hans

[shambler]

The reruns of R’s past Arenas are bloody and far, far too full of a groaning dead-boy eating people, with a mask of blood and gore and Dead-silver eyes: compared to the young man Hans met in the museum, he looks a mess. But there’s something behind that slack face that says he’s hungry for more than the next screaming Tribute and reviewing the less…bloody parts of the Arena, instances where he gets along with the other Tributes. Displays that same naïve willingness to please.

Hans can catch R riding the elevator, trying to get used to the idea that he’s the same corpse he’s always been. When the doors open, his head lolls up to stare at Hans and for a moment there’s just that blank lack of recognition, R’s half-decomposed brain trying to put two and two together. He stares first at that forehead, fantasizes about what’s beneath it, and then his eyes travel downward. The sideburns seem familiar, R focusing on those. Name. He knows there’s a name that goes with those. It’s a good name, short but regal. He’d been impressed.

R’s mouth works fishlike behind the muzzle, which has a silver/obsidian squid theme going on today to match his eyes, according to his Escort. “Hggh….Hans..?” That’s the name. He thinks. R’s hand flutters up in a ghost of a wave, unsure.

[hanssome]

The only good thing about dying so early on had been the extensive amounts of time Hans had to research. He'd found access to reruns quite quickly, once he'd started getting better at navigating technology, so he doesn't waste time perusing them for study. Every so often, he'll come across someone he's met. He'd hardly recognised R at first, but after looking closely there was no way of mistaking it. The man he had met in his Arena had been quite different in previous Arenas, but it only makes him all the more interesting to Hans. Perhaps because, even with how dangerous he seems, there's a very obvious vulnerable charm to him.

He'd heard word that he was back in the center some time ago, and he'd been very eager to meet with him again. He has a well mannered reputation to uphold and he owes R thanks for everything he provided him with in the Arena. If he can take that earnest desire to please and that naivete and use it alongside R's ability to be unspeakably vicious and dangerous, he might have something very beneficial in his hands.

There's a very brief flash of surprise on his face when he observes the muzzle, but it's quickly masked by a warm smile. Hans waves enthusiastically enough for the both of them, looking pleased to have found the other man. "R! It's so wonderful to see you again." He'll step into the elevator alongside him. "Where are you headed? Do you mind if I join you?"

[shambler]

R almost looks trapped at the sunshine radiating out from Hans, his smile just as blinding to a dead boy as a living one. Where is he going? Right now? Or where’s he going with his life? Unable to make that split second decision, R doesn’t argue as Hans joins him in the elevator, his perfect posture matching his perfect hair and the fit of his clothes. He almost looks like a Victor, R thinks, not without a little jealousy.

“Just…rrgh-riding,” R says, his voice raspy this time, full of groans and stutters. “Fills…time.”

The doors close as the elevator descends to the next floor, R too distracted to resume staring at nothing. Not with Hans there, watching. It’s a little embarrassing, actually, to have Hans see him like this but it was bound to happen sooner or later and it wouldn’t have mattered when – he would’ve been as unprepared then as now. R casts about for something to say, feeling pressured to say something. That need to try to please, to fit in, hasn’t changed since the museum: now it’s a little slower, a little more decomposition instead of nervous fidgeting with his hands.

“Not…scared…?” R asks, a little shyly. Hans seems to be taking his corpsehood surprisingly well. Most people have the sense to scream and run (or, if they’re particularly motivated, they try to kill him first).

[hanssome]

Though he's blissfully unaware of R's thoughts, the boy isn't really capable of subtle glances. He's happy to be admired, even if he isn't totally sure what R is thinking about. His assumptions generally err on the side of what strokes his ego best.

He'll simply nod along patiently as R speaks, looking as if he completely understands the sentiment, though he imagines there are better things one could be doing. His hands disappear behind his back as he folds them, an idle habit that only seems to make him more dignified, no fiddly hands here.

His expression warms immediately at the question, unsurprised that this is a vulnerable subject for R. He'll have to approach it carefully, so he begins by shaking his head, his tone sweet and soft when he speaks up. "Of course not." He leans forward a little so it's easier to look at R's face when he talks. "Without your help in the Arena, I might have died before finding my friends. I'm indebted to you for your generosity."

[shambler]

R's a little startled when Hans - willingly! - leans closer instead of away. He's so close R can see his perfect complexion, no signs of acne scars or scars on a face that, lets face it, strikes him as downright princely. It's a little inhuman, almost. Like almost too good to be true, a little unreal. R tries not to look too distracted as his grey eyes focus on Hans’s face, for once on his eyes instead of drifting to his forehead.

“Was…no problem,” R mostly looks dead, but there are shades of dim pleasure that he was useful. It’s nice to know he isn’t only good at killing and eating. “Glad…help. Friends…happy?”

R stands a fraction straighter as the elevator comes to a stop, the door opening. He doesn’t step out, instead standing there looming with his shoulders hunched, facing Hans as riding elevators up and down is a legit way to occupy time.

[hanssome]

There's a little bit of a stirring in Hans, one that's both wary and a little disturbed by R. One that definitely doesn't want him to lean in whatsoever, but Hans intends to disarm him by being more friendly than most would in his situation. That tends to be his default plan of attack and it hasn't entirely failed him yet.

His eyes do nothing to give him away. They're bright and wide, expressing all of the eagerness and cheer that he intends to show. He grins when R asks the question, though he's struggling to parse it right away. "Yes?" He seems hesitant in his answer, as if worried he's misunderstanding. "I was very happy. The sword you got me helped me quite a few times."

He casts a glance out the door as they stop, but it's only for a moment. His attention is back on R immediately so he can finish making his point. "I'd be proud to call you a friend, R."

[shambler]

R processes that. He’s happy Hans is happy, of course, although he tries not to picture him actually using that sword on someone else. He might be a zombie and a cannibal, but it’s not like he actually likes the whole murdering thing for sport thing. He wonders if Hans was decent enough to at least make it fast. Maybe he is, R thinks, sneaking a glance at him. Or maybe it was just self-defense, because he looks at those bright eyes and thinks nah, he can’t kill anyone, he’s too nice. “…Friend…?”

The word floors R. After his argument with Howard, he’s been feeling more blah than usual, trapped in that zombie fog. Having that one word ring through it makes him stop and forget even about drooling through his muzzle, R staring at Hans with a little startled gape plastered on his face.

“We’re…friends?” R tells himself not to sound too needy but he can’t help it – his groan mostly sounds surprised and desperately hopeful. “Rrgh…really?”

[hanssome]

If only R knew the lengths Hans would go to in order to protect himself. Fortunately, he only really needed to use his weapons a few times and only one of them ended in death. Clearly it was no big deal, Hans looks no worse for wear. There's no sadness or mourning in these bright eyes, just an earnest interest in R's face.

"Friends." He repeats, a firm tone to his voice when he does. There's no hesitation, though he looks a little curiously at R as if to make sure that he doesn't protest the sentiment. Of course he doesn't. Hans is great and wonderful and who wouldn't want to be friends with him? R seems a vulnerable sort of person for obvious reasons, there's nothing not to want out of a friendly relationship.

"Well, of course!" He seems confused at, well, R's confusion. Just briefly, before another one of those comforting smiles appears. "We help each other, don't we? That's what friends do. If there's anything I can do for you, I'd love to know."

[shambler]

R’s own smile is tentative, shy as if he’s still surprised that a dead boy can make friends out here. It’s one thing to buddy up to another corpse: friendship’s easy with other zombies when all you need to do is shuffle in the same direction, stumble into each other (literally) in the halls every day. Share intestines every now and then or, if you’re best friends, brains from a hunt. Friendship with the Living, though, feels like the rules shift, like everything’s so much more complicated than he’s imagined. Sometimes R thinks he totally has it.

And then he gets into a fight with Howard and suddenly he’s doubting himself all over again.

It’s a pleasant shock to have someone like Hans saying they’re friends, to his face. Helps to hear it directly.

“Like…being friends,” R rolls “friends” around in his head and decides he likes the way Hans says it. It’s so light. He makes it sound so simple. “Help…Cure?” R taps a finger clumsily against his chest, aware he might be moving a little fast in this friendship but so what? He’d rather Hans see him as he was back in the museum than this, this rotting, grey ghost of himself. “Be like…you.”

Well. Maybe not exactly like Hans. R’s not sure how to describe Hans, although he has the vague idea you could call him “shiny” and it’d be accurate, and he settles for “pretty cool” and leaves it at that.

so sorry for being so slow!

[hanssome]

The shy smile is just a beautiful little window of opportunity for Hans. He's finding R to be surprisingly telling in his expressions for someone so very nearly dead. Or entirely dead. Hans isn't sure it's polite to ask. Regardless, it's clear he isn't used to such brash proclamations of friendship, not that Hans is really all that surprised to discover that. He's not sure how much good R will be as a zombie, but he was a credit to him in the arena. If anything, befriending someone as cursed as him would only make Hans look more like a good samaritan.

When R speaks, he just nods. His expression is bright and eager, as if he truly values the few words R is managing to get out, like he's listening to someone read out a dessert menu instead. However, when R brings up a cure, his brow furrows in confusion. He dearly enjoys being helpful, and having R back to normal would make him all the more useful, but he barely understands what it is R is looking to be cured from.

"Like me?" He questions, moving a hand to his own chest in surprise. Personally, he thinks R is asking a bit much. Hans thinks he's probably a standard a little high for the poor fellow to reach, but it's in his best interests to help. Perhaps he should help him by lowering his standards a little first. "Don't you think you have your own merit as you are?" Probably not, but it's polite to ask.

It's fine! Mind if we start wrapping it up?

[shambler]

If R wasn’t already in love with Julie, he probably would’ve fallen in love with that bright, life-loving smile of Hans’s – it’s just that effective and R’s just that easy. He nods. Like him. R would’ve killed to be like Hans and he means that literally. Actually, any zombie worth his maggots would’ve. They’ve killed for less, just a hint of what it’s like.

R mulls that over, frowning. “This…?”

He gestures at himself, at a package that he’s gotten used to but he thinks, privately, is pretty hopeless. You can’t fix this. He’s a walking corpse who eats people – there’s not a lot of merit there, unless you count having a few hobbies and being patient. R hangs his head in front of Hans, ashamed. It’s hard to explain to someone who, in R’s mind, has it all. To groan to him to put himself in these shoes and see how it felt to be just a shell. R’s head lolls side to side, a low moan edging out of the deep reaches of his throat. It’s not one of the more pleasant sounds R’s made.

“Not…rrgh…really,” R mumbles under his breath.

absolutely!

[hanssome]

There's a funny sort of vibe he's getting from R that is both deeply unsettling and utterly flattering. Being the attention craving crazy person he is, he's mostly opting to appreciate it and dismiss the fact that he has no idea what R is since he has no real concept of zombie. Anything he saw in the arena is not nearly as important as attention, but perhaps a little distance would suit them better. He can't very well offer another cure without knowing how R fixed himself in the first place, he has a little studying to do before he makes more empty promises.

"Well, I can't say I know for sure what it's like.." He thinks he probably sounds a little insincere advising R on something he barely understands, but it's the best he can offer in a situation he really doesn't have much power over. "But I think that for you to be who you are, regardless of your burden is really... I don't want to sound as if I'm making assumptions, but I think it's admirable." His smile is smaller now, but it's just as earnest. He's a little more solemn when he fixes his eyes on R. "I think you're a better man than most of the people I've met. And whatever happens? I hope it's for the best. You deserve it." He follows that with a nod, gingerly reaching out to give R's shoulder a pat. "No matter what, I promise we'll be friends."