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8. spam
Mira sidles up to you. She's friendly, but not excessively so, not suspiciously so. She seems like a wallflower finally trying to ease out of her shell, or some similar mixed metaphor. In the cafeteria, it's 'Hey, do you mind if I sit with you?' and a small smile. In the hallways it's falling into step, one shoulder tilted awkward and shy. 'Hi. You're so-and-so, right?' In the library she asks what you're reading; on the deck she mentions the stars are beautiful. It's mild and banal, which isn't the point. The point is getting close enough to deftly tap a sticky note on your back. Don't worry, it only says your name.
[OOC: Mira is trying to do this for everyone, so David knows where people are! She also wished to remember, meaning her own past. Instead she's going to get other people's memories - critical, trivial, or things they had forgotten. Feel free to toss her one!]
[OOC: Mira is trying to do this for everyone, so David knows where people are! She also wished to remember, meaning her own past. Instead she's going to get other people's memories - critical, trivial, or things they had forgotten. Feel free to toss her one!]
hello yes cw gore and possibly cannibalism
What are you doing?
[(She knows she can't hurt him, understands rationally that she doesn't want to. You push, and she presses her hands over her ears in a vain attempt to block you out. He's approaching her, speaking a language she no longer understands, reaching out in concern. She slaps him away, desperate. You push.
His heartbeat is disgusting, deafening to her (you), squelching film and clotted liquid. The relentlessness of it drives out sane thought and she whimpers. He is warm. She is so hungry. You push. That is her husband, she knows, not food, not meat, fresh meat, bleeding meat, and his pulse is so loud. You push, and are delighted at the wash of horror as she loses control of her own body, leaps at him with teeth and fingernails and starts to dig to silence his heart. She is a hungry animal now, not a thinking being. You are hungrier. All must die.
Another of the living fell in the next town and is rising. You shift your attention and repeat.)]
no subject
[She stiffens, clenches her fists, her jaw. They keep coming. Her gaze goes far away and snaps back. She isn't horrified. Or - she finds his horrors strange and different. But they are all planning animals, aren't they. She dislikes the impersonality of it, that it doesn't matter who they are. But everyone dies the same whether care is taken or not, the man - it mattered who he was - just the same as the town.
She breathes.]
I'm just. Trying to. Mark people. David can't see anyone.
And I'm seeing things I shouldn't.
[He's a friend; she wants to be honest. She wants not to be stealing these things at all.]
no subject
[Arthas twists his head around but can't really see over the bulk of his own pauldrons and gives up, frustrated.]
no subject
[She holds up the unused pad, getting her breath back.]