thecapitol | How to eat your friends and alienate the Living.

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How to eat your friends and alienate the Living.

Who| Julie and R.
What| The most awkward not-date. :|
Where| The Capitol park.
When| Before the aliens plot.
Warnings/Notes| Visceral descriptions of past deaths.

Which, you know, on its own wasn't that bad, it meant she spent a hell of a lot of time thinking. Thinking sucked when it wasn't a constant stream of go-here-eat-this-find-food-dodge-zombie. It wasn't until life took her from post-apocalypse America and threw her here that Julie started to realize something: she didn't know how to live.

Didn't have one goddamn idea how to live.

She'd had her moments of cloud-counting and star-gazing, where she'd lay her head on Perry's chest and look for Orion's belt. Where she'd grab Nora and they'd trade a bottle of Prozac for a fourth of a bag of weed. So. Moments of living. Small little pieces of life. Sticking up between the surviving and the rebuilding and the sex, brief as the blink of a firefly's ass.

And now she was turning into -- god, it sucked to think Perry with a shudder, but there it was. She was going brain-dead. She remembered a spear in her gut and now the long, too-long crawl of time as teeth closed in her skin and her neck, the loud crack of a snapping bone caught in a bear trap. She thought dying once would suck enough. Dying twice sucked hard. Looking to a future of dying and dying over and over again was really starting to fuck with her.

She avoided the network she knew existed, where people met and talked and probably plotted to, like, blow up a Capitol building somewhere. (Part of her thought that might've happened before.) She didn't feel like talking. Chit-chatting. Oh, man, tell me how you kill people because my team's really ragging my ass about how I'm a coward. No kills. Can you believe it? How useless of a tribute could I be? Give me a tip. Go for the eyes? Use the knife when you actually get one?

Sitting on the edge of a fountain and staring into water for a couple of mindless hours probably wasn't much better, but hell if it didn't make her feel a little calmer. Hey. Maybe next time she'd drown. Go for something a little less gory. There were definitely more than a handful of tributes strong enough to hold her head under milk chocolate water long enough for her lungs to explode.

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It took awhile for R, even by zombie standards, to work up the courage to finally visit Julie after the Arena. She isn't in her suite when he drops by. Out. She does that. Try the park or the lake side, the Escort who answers the door says and closes it in R's face after turning him around.

Knowing Julie, she's wherever there's a big view of the sky. R isn't surprised she's gone for either of those. He better get shuffling if he wants to make it there in her lifetime. Park first.

A few hours later and he gets close enough to hear the bubbling of a fountain and suck in the fresh air threaded with Life. He knows Julie's here because he can smell her before he sees her. She's not covered in zombie blood or desert sand caked onto bits of cotton candy. Relieved he didn't have to check the lake too - it could literally take a day or two at his speed - R follows the scent without giving himself time to get cold feet, trying to remember Diana's advice. Just do it. Stop making excuses.

R comes slouching up the path, kicking along bits of gravel that will be put neatly back in its place by tomorrow morning as if by magic. He pauses when Julie comes into view as he clears the bend. She's not a fleshy smear like she was in the desert: her hair gleams sunflower gold in the sun, her skin healthy and pink again with the blood that isn't staining the cave anymore. The water's reflection plays off her face. His chest strains with some invisible pressure. Here goes. This is him, just doing it.

"Sharing...the...ffountain, Ju-lie?" R asks when he's close enough. He stops several feet further than he normally would, easily outside her personal space and biting distance and grabbing/lunging range. There's not really any "safe range" between a zombie and their prey, according to her Dad. Maybe he was onto something.

Are they even still friends? Should he have brought sunflowers? How would a human handle this? Perry's memories are no help, R standing there uselessly with his shoulders hunched. Julie wouldn't have gotten killed by Howard if it wasn't for him. R's already starting to get second thoughts here as he sways.

It's hard not to hear zombies when they shuffle. Seriously not made for stealth. Maybe if her instincts weren't totally fried, she'd be more wary. It's not even until he slurs at her she snaps out of it, turning around.

It's R, of course, because the last person who understands personal space is a zombie. And she doesn't mean physical proximity -- she means the last damn person she wants to see is another zombie. At least he's being polite. Muzzle and everything. What a way to make a girl not feel like meat, huh?

"You seriously come out here to pin me down, Mr. Zombie?" The nickname used to be harmless. Not so much anymore. Not that it's his fault that Howard decided to eat her. Oh, wait. It totally is.

She pulls her legs up on the little cement ledge she's sitting on, wrapping an arm around them. She knows it looks defensive. Submissive her dad would've said. Not that zombies were quite like cornered possums. They didn't read body language. Didn't care. Cornered prey made it easier.

"You might as well sit down. Weirds me out when you get all cautious."

There's something different in the way she call him that compared to the last time. R can't place his finger on it, staring until she tells him to park his butt and he lurches closer to the fountain. He plops down with a dull thud, folding his hands between his legs and keeping them pinned there - normally he'd have them lying limply on his knees but he wants to show Julie he's not going to grab her like...like back at the Cornucopia. Or grab her like he grabbed Howard.

R faces forward, sneaking guilty sidelong glances at her. Julie's curled up on the edge of the fountain, closed off. His chest squeezes uncomfortably.

"Wanted...to...talk. Check...on you," R groans.

He's glad she's fine. Outwardly fine. The idea of her gone, really gone, or turned into a stumbling mess like him and the others makes that swelling feeling curdle. But things are different between them and he has no idea what happens next. Them even being on speaking terms should've been impossible considering what sides of the fence they were on. If she's wondering if following him into the desert was a mistake, he can't blame her. It was.

As graceful as the Titanic smashing into an iceberg. She snorts, which is significantly better than any other reaction. Even if he's Dead, there's something so weird about him. Careless and floppy. Kind of reminds her of the wealth of drunks she's seen. Of course, most drunks don't practically sit on their hands like that.

She wonders if he's hungry and really wishes she wasn't thinking about it.

"Fit as a fiddle." She scoots over and turns to watch the water again. They might've healed all the bites and cuts and burns, but she knows she's a little thinner now than she used to be. Dark circles under her eyes. She props her chin on her arm and sighs.

She thinks about asking about Howard. Freakish, knowing that was exactly what she did after the last Arena. We gotta stop meeting like this, R. "The occasional nightmare. PTSD or something. Phantom pain in my eye. I'm pretty sure I remember him eating one of my eyes."

Yeah, it's kind of vicious. She's not really feeling generous. Besides, R was the one who stumbled down here to find her. He should've known what he was coming to.

He's terrible at telling when people are lying but he thinks Julie might be now. She doesn't look fit as a fiddle. She looks like crap, even if she's not face-down on the ground with strings of flesh dangling where Howard got bored and tried to move onto other parts of her body because it took him hours to figure out about the brains. R says nothing at first. What she says next shouldn't surprise him but does. It doesn't feel good.

If it doesn't feel good for him, what does it feel like for Julie with her pumping heart and rushing blood? If he feels, she must feel so so much more.

R feels his hands slipping out between his legs. Clamping them down again, he gulps for air he doesn't need behind his muzzle, gearing up for speaking. "I didn't...see."

Didn't want to. Why did you follow me in? Why does Julie have to be the one human in her world who stopped to listen to his groans and thought hey, maybe those aren't just groans.

"What...can...I do?" R asks. He's not even sure he can do anything - he can't even tie his own shoes - but he wants to try. He imagines the smiling Julie in his memory, the one that made fun of his music but danced to it, the one who still had hopes and dreams instead of that look in her eyes. R realizes he's shifted over to stare at her without realizing it - now he turns away guiltily.

"Lucky you." She doesn't even know if that was true or not. Why turn away? Dinner and a show. She bet the blood had smelled like a buffet. The sound of flesh ripping like a dinner bell.

She feels abruptly sick, breathing in deep.

It's different, watching someone else get eaten. She'd never been immune to it. And watching has nothing on feeling it. Her heart beating so damn fast she'd been hoping it would explode and just kill her first.

She looks at him, gaze steady. That's why he's different, she guesses. A zombie trying to make amends. "Nothing. Not everything has a miracle cure, R." Ouch. Harsh even to her. And just saying cure around a zombie seems really fucked up. "What about Howard? Shouldn't you be apologizing to him?"

R feels more than sees Julie looking at him. For all the glances he sneaked at her, suddenly he's shy, staring straight ahead and feeling her eyes burning a hole in his cheek. He really can't do anything? It's somehow different hearing it from Julie's mouth instead of it rumbling around his corpse, R's eyes flickering down to his lap.

"Talked." That seemed safe enough. Talked and then...some. R hadn't lurched into that closet ready for a talk with Howard, much less one that suddenly had kissing involved. "I...said...not guh...good. Us. But..."

There's that "but" again. R's full of buts and waffling. He caught his chin sagging down, his shoulders hunching up on their own. He forces them down.

"He didn't...listen," R finishes lamely. How Julie looks at him doesn't feel good, but it's expected. It's sane, especially considering what happened to her. She threw her dice in with a corpse and got the expected result. If she'd had better aim with that knife, if it had a few more inches to that blade, she wouldn't have been in this situation. Maybe she could've got away from that lab.

Hell. It's hard not to feel something for a guy who looks like he's being crushed by the world. Which. Pretty sad, even for a dead man.

Despite herself, she listens. She's expecting some kind of excuse, something, but this sounds like R. To a T, so to speak. She drops her gaze, wiggling her toes in shoes that are a lot sturdier than that goddamn pair of sandals. It's a miracle they bothered getting rid of all her blisters.

She shifts a little closer for whatever reason, dropping her arms around from her legs. "You don't have to sound so goddamn depressed about it." Yep, that's her. Being enlightening. Very helpful. "Sounds like he doesn't hate you for it. You should be throwing a party right now."

Hey, he wasn't the one who got eaten alive.

...Fine, maybe technically he did, but he hadn't felt it the same way she had. Howard ripping chunks off hadn't hurt. It doesn't count the way it did with Julie. R shrugs, an unhappy groan gurgling out as he inches his face to the side, just barely able to see Julie out of the corner of his eyes.

"What if...happens...again?" R points it out, tired because for all those years he ached to reach out to people and connect, and now that he has, it's not what he expected. His chest does funny things when he looks at his friends. Julie. Remembers Perry. "Ssso...not good."

At least Julie's taking it seriously. She hasn't run for the hills, but he also has the muzzle on, so there's that. Anyway, he's not just talking about Howard. Julie, too. He's glad he saved her. At the same time, he regrets saving her for her to get picked for the Games. To get eaten alive and then pop back up for more of the same. R grunts and ducks his head to stare at a crack in the sidewalk, an ant scuttling across between his shoes.

Edited 2013-10-04 20:47 (UTC)

It's taken her this long to notice he's not looking at her. Not once. She's also pretty sure that's entirely on purpose, because everything that R does that screams human has so much thought put into it, it's maddening.

She sighs and rolls her eyes, suddenly feeling like she's stuck in that stadium babysitting again. Julie folds her legs and drops her hands in her lap, facing him. The muzzle placates her hibernating fear, and even if he looks like hell the thought of touching him again makes her want to cringe.

Too soon.

"You don't get more human than wringing your hands over what might happen in the future." It doesn't mean shit after changing their mutual friend into a zombie that ate her, but hey, at least he feels like hell about it all. There's some bitter justification in her enjoying it.

She shrugs. It's stupid of her to be so haunted and want to help him anyway. His collapsing shoulders are dragging her down with him. "I don't know what to tell you, R. I was stupid at home, you know? The longer you went without eating, the less I thought about it. I thought maybe you didn't need to anymore."

Normally that remark would've made him feel better. Julie had dropped a few of those before; each time he felt something swell in him close to bursting. He even felt the need to blink a few times, his eyes still dusty. Now he only grunts. Maybe this isn't about how human he is. They already saw he wasn't.

"Thought...so too," R mutters.

They were both stupid and hopeful and without a plan. He'd gone all those days without even really thinking about feeding. It couldn't have been a one time thing, could it? It seems even more unfair than learning about the Capitol's Cure that laughs at death and zombification, the one people outside this place would literally kill for just to see it. R's hands flex between his legs, then relax. He's aware without looking directly at Julie that she's shifted around and opened up her body language slightly. A bit of her hair slides over her shoulder, shimmering.

"Wanted...it...rrreal. Change," R adds. He doesn't know how to really put it into words. What he felt toward Julie felt like it was enough to be that change. Even the other Dead had seen it. M did. So why did this feel like a step backward?

He suddenly wants to bring up Perry. The dead boy in the middle of the room. Tell Julie sure,maybe she didn't like what he turned into, but he would've been a lot better keeping her safe than a zombie. He sure as hell wouldn't have eaten her alive. R clams up behind the muzzle, his words trailing off into a creaking sound as he fights the urge to look over at Julie.

Funny to think the zombie sounds like how she feels. They're both really fucked up, and that's pretty much an understatement. Here R is, trying to be human and eating his friends, and she doesn't even know how to be human in the way that should be natural.

She doesn't want to think about how close she was to waking up like him. Howard must have eaten all of her. Hadn't he? She couldn't remember. Didn't want to, either. Not putting a lot of effort into that.

"You've got plenty of time for change." She shrugs. Great, she's become what she hates. A shrugger.

No idea how she came out here to be alone and she's got a zombie falling apart next to her. Not literally, thank god. "And you've got enough self-control for it. You're putting a lot of effort into not looking at me." She scrutinizes him for this, too. Usually it's the opposite. R staring and her and her reminding him it's pretty creepy. "Come on. Sit up. Stop slouching, sloucher. And stop making that noise. It's the worst."

Was it really that obvious? R's surprised even though he knows he shouldn't be, his face lolling toward hers as if he can't help himself; he's always had to look at Julie, stare at her because she's impossible in a world that's fine-tuned how to kill people, Living or Dead. Now that he's staring right at her, he can see the dark circles under her eyes, the little frown line at the corner of her mouth so fine he could almost miss it. It wasn't there before.

He doesn't realize he's already trying to do what she says: his spine creaks as it tries to straighten, his mouth claps shut around that groan. Oops. He can't sit up straight like Perry used to, but it's still an improvement.

"Ssorry," R says.

There's a huge difference between trying really, really hard not to turn toward Julie like she's a magnet and hungering for human flesh. Sometimes he struggles to follow along with her line of thinking. R finds it even harder now to tear his eyes away from her face because it's the first time he's seen her up close since the Arena, way back when she'd been a blur with a voice.

"Asking...help. For...this," R points at his muzzle. For the whole biting problem. "Don't know...work, but..."

He starts to shrug, catches himself because Julie's looking right at him. She shouldn't have to worry about getting eaten alive. Ever.

Julie's sure she has a point somewhere around here. She just... dropped it. Mistakenly misplaced it. Look, she was trained in over a hundred ways to drop a zombie from a fifty-foot distance, but trying to turn a corpse into a functional person was a bit over her skill level.

Something was definitely different at home. Maybe because they were so busy running from other corpses neither of them had time to think about him. Of course, she was still busy running from people content with killing her over and over. And now zombies. Or. A zombie.

Funny. He'd tried to eat her at the beginning. Guess she should've let him.

"It's a start," she says after a moment of staring right back. His eyes aren't as bright as she remembers. At least now she doesn't feel the crazy, stupid urge to deprive him of the muzzle. Her expression turns quizzical when she realizes what he's just said. Help? With cannibalizing? "Who did you even ask? Is there a reformed zombie center I missed somehow?"

He can practically see the question mark forming over Julie's head. Zombies don't get help for the new hunger. It just isn't done. "No. I...asked..."

R pauses to pull up names and faces. At least these he remembers. They're his memories, not little glimpses of some mystery boy he used to be, and today's one of those good days. He's mostly all there.

"Max...imus. And...Joan...Ww-watson," R finally gets the names out, relieved he didn't stumble on them too much. He still remembers.

Thankfully he doesn't think Julie's ever run into Maximus in the Arena. Julie's capable - R has memories of her killing looters and zombies and Perry wishing she'd be even more conservative with her ammo - but Maximus is the new Victor for a reason. A man who killed Tributes to feed to a zombie isn't someone to be screwed around with. R decides to gloss over Maximus for now. Joan's safer to bring up. He wants to keep things positive if possible.

"Joan...counsels..." R groans. "With...rope. Safe?"

R snaps his mouth shut with a click of his teeth. He's not sure if he's offering for Julie to come check and give it her personal a-okay or if he's asking for her thoughts. If she thinks it's safe too. If it's worthwhile to bother or they're both products of their upbringing. If that time back at the airport was just a fluke. (Why can't he stop staring at her face?)

A totally small, stupid part of her might be a little irritated he didn't ask her. Which is, as said, stupid. The last thing she could help with is his need to eat people. Especially now.

Julie's skeptical about the whole business. Neither name really brings up anything with it. Maximus... she's only heard it because he won the last Arena. She can also guess he's probably ruthless as hell. She figures that's the only way to win.

She blinks at him, dumbstruck. Still trying to absorb the zombie asking people (human people, she assumes) for help on his taste for flesh. "You're asking me?" How would she know? She doesn't even know a Joan. And the way he said it, she's picturing -- hell, she's not even sure. Tying the zombie down to a post like a dog? Waiting out the hunger? "I don't think safe for you's a big issue. I mean, you're already..." She trails off. Zombie or not, it's starting to feel weird pointing out how dead he is. "You want me to come?"

Of course I'm asking you, R wants to say. We're (maybe) friends is on the tip of his blackened tongue until he remembers oh, right. Not too sure on the friends part.

"Sssupport," he shrugs, trying to play it casual and failing. "Not...pretty..."

She's already seen him drooling for home-grown human flesh, though, so R suspects she has an idea what he'd be like sitting in that chair. The difference is he knows Joan ties some damn good knots and he's got the muzzle plastered on his face. Double guarantee. He'd like to show her he can do the impossible or at least try. Maybe change can be in his vocabulary. R tries not to look down at her hand. Something in him aches to reach out and take it in his.

He keeps his hands to himself.

She's still trying to think how tying a zombie down is gonna help. The General would've figured out that cure a hell of a long time ago if it worked.

Julie snorts, looking away. Very dignified. Hard to say why R wants or needs her support, but. God, she's an idiot. This isn't gonna work. She already feels something remarkably close to despair closing in, crushing her. But Julie keeps thinking of home. Not the bright colors of her Hope wall, empty as anything, but the fact he'd followed her right into the stadium. That he'd passed for human so much that even people who were trained to spot his kind hadn't looked at him.

She thinks of the fact that he didn't even snap at a person from the time he kidnapped her to then. That something had been happening. Zombies didn't go days without eating. It just didn't happen.

So maybe there's a little something to pin to that wall.

"I'll go." She turns back to him, all business, before a hint of a smile graces her face. Support, huh. Guess she was used to that. Perry had made her support too. Every time they left the stadium. "Nothing's been pretty for a while. Might as well get more of the same."

Maybe she doesn't want to go for it. Too many reminders about the Arena from the Cornucopia to Howard. R expects her to say no. He's prepared for that familiar emptiness to spread from his rib-cage outward. It's not hunger. It's less than the hunger. It's actually worse.

She doesn't shoot him down.

R rocks back, stunned, something that's either relief or pleasure blossoming out. She's almost-smiling. Julie's posture shifts - something in the shoulders - and she opens up more. Not a lot. But more than before. R jerks his head in a nod, planning to play this casually and failing miserably the second he opens his mouth and a croak comes out.

"Hope...not," R manages to get out. "Thank...you for...coming."

It means more than he thought it would. Before he couldn't find it in himself to care one way or another if a zombie came or went: he liked them well enough, but there were times he couldn't remember where some of his old friends went. If they starved or died, or wandered off. Probably got shot. With Julie it's different. She's there, sharpness where there was only blurs. What she does from the way she plays with her hair to that "I'll go" seems to stick. The feeling continues to spread as R fights off the urge to smile behind his muzzle.

Even if it's ugly, she'll be there. He'd ask her to even hold his hand there but he doesn't trust himself not to grab onto her. Important thing is she'll be there as support.

Anyway, it's probably time to let her get some space for herself. R turns to go, starts to shuffle off, and then remembers:

"Few...days from...now," R adds. "Train..ngh..center..."

Seeing him looking shocked is almost enough for a real Julie-smile, but not quite enough. Still. Yeah. If it means something to him, if it makes it a little easier, why not? It's not like she spends this free time on something important. Training or whatever.

Her shrug is casual as she can make it, but. Thing is, that's the R she knows. She remembers. From the plane, from back home, dragging himself under her bedroom and throwing stones at the window. The one who gets wide-eyed and excited like a seven year old holding their first glock.

"Don't bother thanking me. You just owe me." It's a tease, a raise of her brows as she slides to the edge of the cement. Her feet hang off, just touching the ground. "I'll be there."

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