storywalks | she's a work in progress

[She might be able to fall asleep like this, she thinks. It'd be a really uncomfortable sleep, but a lot of sleeps are uncomfortable these days. Well, not these days specifically, because the most recent days have been full of pampering and included mattresses. The general apocalypse days. Those these days.

But she doesn't actually want to sleep, as exhausted physically and emotionally as she is. She wants to take a minute or two to gather herself up again, then switch to resting her chin on him instead of her forehead.]

I wanna see you cry, though.

[He scoffs though it comes out as more of a cough. His head shakes.]

Not very... nice...

[He's teasing, but his tone turns serious a moment later.]

No... you don't... It's black... stains... infectious... I hate it...

[She hums her agreement, amused and glad that this time, it really does sound like a joke. Maybe it's because he doesn't intend to hide the truth in the same breath -- he lays it in front of her right after.]

Mm... Sounds metal.

[But her tone is quieter, gentle. She understands. Not necessarily dissuaded, but she doesn't want to push him on it, either. Actually...]

I know this -- topic sucks, so. You can shut me up whenever. How do you... Um, I mean. Do you know? What all -- will...make someone turn.

[He snorts at that. Metal. He guesses so. But after all, what's more metal than apocalypse?

He hears the way she tries to mind him, even as she ask for details. He really got lucky, running into her. Still, he pauses before answering.]

... No... Not sure... Not safe... to test... Infection's gotta... get in people... gotta spread... why we're hungry... [Always hungry.]

Oh...

[Yeah. The second part's obvious -- pretty much all zombie media she'd seen had that premise, and she did know the first part on some level. Duh, of course it wasn't safe to test. Curiosity killed the cat...and they both liked cats, so she shouldn't -- be so curious. She shouldn't want to test the limits, no matter if she wants to see black tears or trace exposed teeth. Curl up next to him, facing him, and maybe...

Well. She shouldn't be curious. She shouldn't test it. Still, she thinks about telling him that it would probably be okay to be a little less cautious, seeing as she's obviously touched zombies before, and as long she wasn't bleeding or, like, licking him, then -- oh god. Jesus. Fuck no, she's not going down that rabbit hole. Uhhh. Shit. What was she saying?]

Sorry, I...was just -- um. It was a really good -- day. I wish you didn't have to worry so much. About what's -- okay. With me. I know it's smarter, though, to...not.

[Not...something. Yeah. Yeah!]

[He looks back, but he still can't exactly see through the fabric. Where he holds her arms close to him, he gives a light little squeeze.]

I had... a good day too... I'm sorry I... can't be more sure...

[He doesn't really know what she's hoping for. Honestly, he doesn't know what he'd hope for. But he knows they both want more, or at least for the option to be there.]

For what it's... worth... this is... nice...

[Softly,]

Yeah.

[It is nice. Really nice. That should ease her anxieties, and yet! Well, wouldn't be Ryder if she wasn't spending too much time thinking. Things that matter, things that don't matter -- it's all rattling around in there.]

Um, but if -- um. You can tell me if I'm -- being too weird. I don't want -- to accidentally drive you aw-way or, um, freak you out. Just because I'm selfish.

Selfish...

[He repeats that as amused as is bewildered.]

When have you... been selfish...?

[Did he miss something? Was he not paying attention? He shakes his head.]

I'm... the selfish one... and besides... I don't think... you're too weird... at all... I like you...

[She wants to protest by shoving a magnifying glass in front of him, and maybe it would catch the sun just right and cause her to burst into flames so she can have an excuse to feel so warm and to sweat, ugh she's so damp? It's fine when she's moving around and exerting herself, but this was just dumb baby nerves getting more frayed by the second because she's thinking too much, it's not like he means he likes her when he says he likes her, don't worry so much, that's impossible so you don't have to worry about it, and definitely don't get carried away, even if that would really show him what she means about her being a weirdo freak that wants to smooch an undead guy -- oh, fuck, she's started to tighten her hug like he was just a pillow she could squeeze to herself for comfort. Better -- let him go now. Sorry! Sorry, sorry... Those aren't the words that come out, though.]

"Tell me I'm clever,
Tell me I'm kind,
Tell me I'm talented,
Tell me I'm cute,
Tell me I'm sensitive,
Graceful and wise,
Tell me I'm perfect --
But tell me the truth."

...I -- just don't normally, um... I like you a lot. And I keep -- touching you, or wanting, u-um... It's just weird.

[The poem is a little surprising, but at the same time, that's just Ryder, able to pull old words up like her mind is a library and she knows the contents inside and out. He listens to it, amused enough by the end to smile. He hears the trick to it. But at the same time...]

Isn't that... human...? To want to... be near...? Wanting just... to want... not to hurt...

[He wants to hurt. But he also wants this. He doesn't know where that puts him, what it makes him.]

You are... those things... by the way... Except maybe... graceful...

[Ryder's wondering if that's human and what that meant for her before all this enough that she's caught by surprise when he backtracks to her poem. Her laugh is half an exhale, amused, relieved, embarrassed. Maybe she can...believe it a little bit, since he ruled out the obvious outlier. Maybe he really believes it. All of it. Maybe...it's okay to at least feel this way, even if she's wrong to think about acting on it or wanting the same from him.]

Um. Anyway. [Ignore her! And how dumb she is!!] There's -- some time before we can -- do anything. A-about them, I mean. I don't think I can -- play anymore today, but we could -- stories, or if there's something fun I could do with you from here in the -- from here. Or, um, I don't know if you want -- to nap, or something...

[She laughs. It makes him smile. (He'll ignore nothing.)]

Stories... would be nice... I don't know... what games to play...

[He could nap, but he doesn't need it. He's not sure he could nap until the dead are taken care of anyway. He'd worry too much.]

[They'd end up being word games, anyway. Choppy bits of stories in their own right. She hums her agreement, though it's half a preamble for thought, before flopping down to lay on her back. She didn't take the time he'd given her to think of a story earlier, so it was time to pull from the past and bullshit when the blanks come up...]

Two sisters, Joanna and Gemma, stood at the world's beginning and wondered aloud what to do with the land laid out before them. Gemma took her sister's hand and gestured wide, telling her of the plentiful fields and rolling waves they could set free, but was interrupted long before she could finish painting her picture. She hadn't even gotten to complete the sketch.

"What of the music?" Joanna asked. "Is it enough to accept the rustle caused by the winds through our world?" So she added birdsong, making Gemma create birds, and rhythm, making Gemma create rattlesnakes, and the sweet unpredictability of voices, which Gemma answered with making people, all of which would live off the land she then built to accommodate them all...

[It's a story of different people with different priorities, and how one gets praised far more even if their contributions aren't always practical -- necessary, yes, because there can't be a world without people or music, but Joanna was prone to whimsy and the part of love that wanted to grant anything and everything someone else wanted. Gemma granted those same things out of love for her sister, but had to take care of other parts that weren't seen as fun or even nurturing in the eyes of the creatures she'd worked hard for. Gemma was run ragged for very little reward. Pride in her work could only get her so far when the sister she held so dear was come to be known as Beloved Joanna by all, any adoration going to her and...looking so much like her own that she wondered if it went unnoticed after a while.

Something a lot like Death asking why Life was celebrated, where they were feared and despised, in the end, but without much of a moral.]

I don't -- know how to make it back -- around to what I wanted the characters to be... "Too Beloved" and "To Be Loved". Haven't, um, figured it out... But spoilers, th-that's their theme.

[He closes his eyes to the sound of her tale, letting the image paint itself into his mind. Gemma and Joanna. The hardest thing to picture is their faces because anything he projects he starts to wonder if he's seen and when he wonders the story being told in the moment starts to slip away.

So, for now, he lets the figures of Gemma and Joanna be just that. Gemma fades and fades, becoming grey, lost to a shadowy background while Joanna danced in the light.]

Too beloved... to be loved...

[He hums and ponders.]

We want... to be loved... Gemma too... Love from the people... or... her sister... Lack is... a familiar pain...

[And yet.]

Too beloved... Too much... An ego, perhaps...? But maybe... maybe something... else... Too beloved... idolized... a pedestal... too beloved but not... loved... Or maybe... just tired... tired of it... trapped... smothered... wanting to be... free...

[She hums, on leg propping up and wiggling back and forth to release some of her unused energy. She feels the tired soreness in them grumbling for her to stop that, fucking hell, but she needs to move, body. It's just how things are.]

It's all a lot, isn't it? Might -- be all of that at once. No matter what, it's -- a lot. [This time, her hum is a tune, just a faint, brief 'It's tough to be a god~' It's tough to be less than that, too.] Is the point just -- to say that? I dunno. I jus' think about them -- sometimes.

[All of that at once... placed up high and revelling in it so long that everyone's view of her becomes a smudged blur of perfection that she eventually can't hope to meet-- not when she relies so much on a sister to make what she wishes for. A sister who's no longer there.

He nods his head in agreement. It does seem like a lot.]

I think... I think it would be... the thing to... make her want... some change... to look... and find... her sister gone... but she hasn't... learned yet... what her sister... wants and needs... to be loved...

[She feels like curling up against him like a cat, soaking in his slow words and wheezing. Even pulling from old, thoughts, revamping the words as she needed, it's exhausting to tell her own stories out loud. Especially when they aren't complete. Her eyes have drifted shut so that she can better picture the way Joanna whisks through the scene, some kind of cloth or her hair flowing freely to really accentuate the way she looks around before turning. Smooth, but dramatic. A dawning realization moving into something that hasn't quite settled. It would be confusing. It would, eventually, be lonely. These days, there are plenty of things that make sure she knows what it is to be left without something that was always there, leaving an inexplicable void in its place. Like waking up to find your nose disappeared.

Ryder shifts so that she can't start drifting off before she realizes it, too focused on the figure in her imagination.]

But -- can't just make it her -- fault. Not fair to her... Um. I don't know what -- being a Joanna-type is like, but it's better for -- Gemma's to communicate. Even if they're not...good.

You're right... [He nods to further showcase his agreement.] She's jealous... and alone... and unhappy... but she's said nothing...

[He doesn't know that he's like either girl. He's not a Joanna, not beloved, but he doesn't know that he's a Gemma either. Not because he finds communication the easiest, but because he can't see himself being driven from that he loves, even if it meant being muffled and smothered to nothing. He doesn't know. He doesn't think he's any better than either.]

It will need... to be a story... of both... a journey... of two...

Mmm.

[The way her brain works, always so scattered, she feels like a story that follows the both of them should be easy…but she also knows by now that for all the different directions her thoughts go in, it was only ever one thing that would hold her focus. Would that thing be Joanna or Gemma…? Would it be “the sisters,”or even broader, “the story”? Be pretty funny if she couldn’t get her brain off the Beloved side of things, though. Very fitting. Very cruel.]

She’d do anything… [It’s just an absent murmur, nothing new or interesting. Her thoughts are crawling and swirling at the same time…like a drain. Whoosh.

Ugh. She’s not allowed to sleep! She needs to be awake for when Teo leads his spooky parade out, just in case!!] I hope they learn — they were alone together. Didn’t have to be. Even with different — problems.

I think... they do... they must... Might take a little... bit of time... but they care... too much not to...

[He can hear the way she's drifting. He can feel her weight pressing against him, more and more slack with each moment. He smiles.]

You should... rest... little goose... We're together... and you're safe... rest now...

[She exhales and her body releases the remaining tension it had unconsciously been holding onto as she mentally fortified herself. Blindly, she reaches over to touch more of him and shuffle like he's a stuffed animal for her to draw comfort from in the night.]

That's no fun for you... Not fair. Shouldn't -- be tired.

[Her tone is a moody whine. Just because she pushed herself physically? Ridiculous! She should have been filled with energy from her amazing breakfast! Well, honestly that was probably why she'd been up for running around earlier, aches and all. But still, she sighs and murmurs a soft,] Safe together...

[What a spoiled girl, getting so accustomed to this (relatively) easy life.]

[They could probably make a semi-decent Calvin and Hobbes if they were wittier than they are. Alas, they'll have to make do being themselves.

He laughs softly.]

I'm okay... I have... quite a night ahead... Fine to rest...

[And being safe together with someone is such a novelty, even for him. Especially for him. He repeats;]

Rest...

[She makes another noise that might be a protest, but it's obvious that she stops fighting it. Even as tired as she is, it takes longer than she'd like to make that switch from real world to dreamland...and before she knows it, she's awake again.

Ryder stretches out as much as possible, imagining herself as a jaguar that took those long steps and arched their back so satisfyingly. She'd look so rad with spots -- and damn, those claws and fangs. Unstoppable...! Unfortunately, as she goes lax again, she remembers that she's a human, and in this day, she's more prey than predator. But all the predators are caged up right now! And it's up to her and Teo to release them back into the wild!]

Mmmready...!

[Though her job is mostly to stay out of the way... She's determined to help! She can keep an eye out, as long as she's quiet about it, and if the survivors show up again, she can tell them to fuck off for their own good! Or something!

Back to making this a place where they can live their lives in as close to peace as you can get in the apocalypse.]

[He doesn't move until she wakes. He lets himself rest, but not sleep. He has seen all too often what happens when one assumes that the caged predators will stay in their cages. Hell, he's one too. He knows for a fact he died locked up, but he woke up in an open street.

Part of him marvels that she's going along with this plan. By all means, the smart thing to do would be to go down there and kill each and every last one of those undead. But, she sees him as more. And so, she's starting to see them as a little bit more too. He's grateful. He's grateful for so much with her.]

Guess it's... time then...

[He flashes a smile back at her and gets himself ready too, making sure his face is covered. It won't help much if he's caught walking the dead along, but it'll help him enough for each time he's got to wander back.]

I'm going to... open up... the doors down there... Be safe... Be ready... I will try to... finish up... fast as I can...

[He has more preparation to do than her, even if she does her due diligence to tighten laces, tuck away loose bits, keep less skin exposed, make sure she can move without issue... Backpack packed, doors checked, weapon ready. She gives him a thorough look over just to make sure, and quietly laments the fact that she didn't have binoculars or a bow of her own. She'd have to ask him to look for a sporting goods store or something... They should hit up a few different kinds of stores, actually. She wonders how much there is left behind after all this time, and how many undead still wandered...

Well. That's a future project. She has to focus on the task at hand, and she won't distract him by putting something else in the list.]

I won't have a lot of visibility from the window, but I don't want to risk the roof... [Too easy to get cornered. Ideally she'd be out there with him.] Anything I can get ready for you, if it goes sideways?

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