OPEN Valentine's Day Plot

[thebiddingbaron]

WHO | Everyone
WHAT | Baron sends Valentine's Day gifts to Tribute Tower.
WHEN | Valentine's Day!
WHERE | Tribute Tower
WARNINGS / NOTES | Warnings for drug use and all of the things that go with that. Possibly also sexual themes. The OOC post for this is here.




On the morning of February 14th when the Tributes come down for breakfast they're greeted by an impressive holiday themed spread. Pink and red baked goods, chocolates shaped like hearts, beautiful red and pink flowers, adorable stuffed animals all line the table.

On the table is also a sign in cursive that reads:

To our beloved Tributes, Victors, Mentors, Escorts and Stylists. Enjoy your holiday. -- Bartlett Industries

Most of the sweets are completely harmless, but if the Tributes taste the chocolate covered cherries or caramels they find themselves suddenly acting very strangely...

Comments

[shambler]

She stuffs that chocolate into her mouth like a zombie trying to stop another from grabbing a prime intestine chunk out her hands. R’s almost impressed with how fast she is. Surprisingly good reflexes for someone dressed like a walking target. R pumps himself up for a conversation. In his mind, the words spill out easily. It’s not the same story in reality as his mouth works behinds the muzzle’s bars.

“What…” R tries again. “Go home?

He tries to look hopeful and harmless and not at all like a…zombie who keeps sneaking glances at Pretty In Pink. She hasn’t run screaming from him, so that’s good, right?

[mannersmatter]

"Home?"

Which district was he from? She racked her mind and at least for now, knew it wasn't going to come to her.

"You mean your home district?" Because his escort had to have explained to him that home wasn't happening. Right? Though maybe someone...like him had issues remembering those things. Still, this Tribute was something very different, and Effie was feeling surprisingly at ease with him so close by.

[shambler]

It takes a second for him to realize he can understand what the woman's saying. She has a really...weird way of talking, her voice rising up in a lilt that he never heard any Living use before. R by now is blatantly staring and fixing all his attention on her.

"Air...port," R corrects her. "Others like..."

He trails off and points to himself. While he is warming up fast to the idea of talking to the Living without them trying to shoot him all the time, he also feels uncomfortable here. Too many colors, too many weird sights and sounds R isn't ready for. Pretty in Pink here is a prime example: her weird voice and clothes and God, look at her skin. It's even paler than his and he's got the excuse of being a corpse.

[mannersmatter]

Airport? An archaic term, but being the history buff she is, she knows what he's asking for. Still, as a Tribute, the current incarnation of an airport is not something of interest to any Tribute.

That, paired with his 'others' comments...yes, he hadn't been explained things.

"Well, your escort certainly isn't doing her job, is she?" Opps. She really shouldn't be bashing coworkers. But really.

"Well, dear, there isn't any airport to take you home."

[shambler]

R wanted to groan in frustration. Lady, that totally wasn't what he meant! This was one of those times where he wished he could keep up a conversation as easily as the rest of the people here (goofy voice and all). R's face was blanker than usual as he tried to reign in the urge to grab Pretty in Pink a good shake, because he knew if he got her hands on her, instinct would probably try to kick in, muzzle or not.

Polite. Civil. He could do this, even if it was getting harder by the second. The zombie pursed his lips.

"Not what I," R sucked in a breath out of habit. "Meant. Home," he added insistently. He pictured taking that word and bouncing it off Pink's head until she got what he meant. "Not here."

R didn't even think about defending his escort, who had been saddled with a job that even the most experienced would probably throw up their hands and throw in the towel on.

[mannersmatter]

"But here is your home now."

He was gross, very gross, but...well, she felt a little pull of sympathy. He clearly was slow. And maybe he just needed a shower.

In fact.

"You need a shower. I'm sorry, I don't mean to be rude."

[shambler]

R got the feeling he could argue all he wanted, he wasn't getting anywhere with her. The zombie blew out a frustrated whistle of air through his decaying lungs.

Really? A shower? R decided this called for desperate measures. "I could," R was starting to feel downright crafty here, "take a shower. At old home?"

Ooh, that was good. There was no way Pink could argue with that one.

[mannersmatter]

"But you can't go to your old home, dear. It's in another world."

Would he be able to get that? She had the feeling he was a bit...well, slow.

She was very observant, clearly.

[shambler]

R seriously couldn't tell if she was being literal or not. The Living didn't view long-distance the way Dead people did. Maybe she thought he'd fall for it or - or think he'd give up and call it a day.

"Could...still walk. Start today?" R's voice took on a challenging tone. He was convinced you could shamble anywhere and you didn't even need to put your mind to it. Just one foot in front of the other, keep on stumbling. Lady, he was a pro at that. "Point me in the...that way.

Unless she meant something else. R's excuse was he was a corpse: the whole multiple dimensions thing was above his paygrade. R frowned at Pink, as if she was the one being slow here and not him.

[mannersmatter]

Oh, this was getting tiresome.

"Alright then. Go ahead and walk. That'll get you far."

She stopped. No. No that wasn't right.

"I'm sorry, I don't know what's wrong with me. But...I do really mean...we are in a different world from your own." She stopped, looking at him. Perhaps this was too complicated. "Home is gone."

[shambler]

R was about to take her up on that challenge feeling almost motivated to bother. For a zombie, it's a weird sensation, especially if it's not food related.

"Gone?" R echoed, trying to wrap his head around that. "How?"

Okay, he could at least understand the concept of "gone". So how'd it happen? Did they blow up the airport? Fire-bomb it? He thought about all the Dead there on fire and he thought he might be a little sad about M, but aside from that, there wasn't a particularly sharp pang of pain. He might need awhile for it to sink in. At least he wasn't charging out of there trying to walk home, so well done, Effie.

[mannersmatter]

"Well..."

She wasn't really sure how to answer that.

"They took you...well, all of these people from all different worlds." She paused, before repeating for emphasis, "Not places, worlds."

"And they can't send you back. But...well, you have showers here, and clean clothes, so it's much better."

[shambler]

R mumbled to himself, "Liked...old clothes."

Yeah, he was sulking. He was even slouching a bit more, shoulders hunching, his eyebrows knitting together as he worked up a slow scowl at the Escort. Her and her weird voice and that annoyingly good posture she had. Probably even remembered to keep her elbows off the table.

[mannersmatter]

She hadn't seen his original clothes, but if she'd had, she would probably have a few things to say about those.

"You musn't be ungrateful. It'll look bad to the Sponsors." She reached out, not even thinking about the fact this wasn't her Tribute, and straightened his collar. "You need to always make a good impression if you're going to win."

[shambler]

The collar was already not looking too hot, what with it rubbing up against his neck. It was a bit slick and grimy to the touch and for hygiene's sake, Effie might want to wash her hands after this. Just sayin'.

"If...win, what then?" So? R told himself he didn't care about making a good impression, except that wasn't true - he was downright fussy for a zombie, all things considered. R was annoyed to find that Pink here had a good point.

He tried to bat Pink's hands off his collar.

[mannersmatter]

"Well..."

Could he be a mentor? Well, he couldn't be worse than the Morphlings.

He might be better.

She pulled back her hands, shrugging. "You're a mentor."

[shambler]

R stared at her, his mouth parted open in an "o" of surprise. Then he tried something new: he tried laughing in Pink's face. It came out like he was choking on a chunk of meat too big to go down at once.

"Mentor!" R continued forcing out his first laugh. "You're kidding!"

[mannersmatter]

"Well." She paused, pressing her lips together.

"I don't make the rules."

She knew she was being rude. But really. He had laughed at her.