[Save her? Ryder frowns, instinct telling her that it was a ridiculous thing to focus on. The big danger in the world these days was little more than set dressing for her, so how couldn't she be the safest one already? How could she ever need saving? But he had, in fact, saved her -- from something that had once been so, so normal. She's internalizing her mortality at the same time she's considering his view that...is probably normal, too. Would she have felt this more strongly if she were having this conversation two years ago? Two and a half? Wait. Uhhh.
...Right, eating dogs. That's where they're at. It is sad. She wishes it would be sadder.]
Hnn.
[Still, the facts are stacked together in her mind like a clumsily picked at, long-lived jenga tower. It makes her feel too wobbly to think about for long.]
...Would y-yyyou? Um, like. Um. [How does she actually put these thoughts into words... This is why she doesn't talk to people. It's too much of a hassle to lay a track down for someone to follow where her brain was going, particularly since the destination wasn't exactly a great one to pass through.
As a shortcut to where she's trying to get him, Ryder raises her arm to display the dirty cuts that had stopped bleeding, pointing at them with her other hand.] ...People? N-not -- wanting. Obv-obviously.
[She moves past the dog thing with remarkable ease. She barely even makes a comment. But, most people are hardened by the world they're in so it's not that surprising.
His head tilts as she begins her question. It stays tilted. Is she asking if he likes people, wants company, or likes people...?]
Um...
[She points to her hand.]
Oh.
[He shifts the quiver a little on his shoulder, uncomfortable. His head ducks.]
... I try... very hard... to be safe... I hunt to... settle my head... [Since the hunger was never going away.] But... not you... [He lifts his head up and it's tilting slightly again, this time with wonder.] It's like... you're turned... but not... Here but...
[Her hand lowers again and she returns to holding herself, eyes sliding away. Is she supposed to be disgusted? Relieved? What would the hero feel, in this situation? Ryder dismisses that thought before she's even finished it. Even with unlikely and unwilling heroes, she didn't fit the bill. But then, does it matter what she feels? It more or less just feels like confirmation.
Here but...]
Yeah. I dunno.
[She tried not to think about it too much. When she did, she risked remembering the fear in others' eyes as they were torn into mere feet from her even though she'd been the one to fall, leaving Ryder frozen in place until the undead had either had its fill or the bitten and abandoned classmate was through with their crying and seizures and rose up before her. They'd pass by just like in the halls. Any number of nightmares weren't going to illuminate the why of it for her.]
[Sorry? What's she sorry for? He shakes his head.]
No... It's important... You want to know... if it's safe... that's fair...
[He doesn't hold it against her. He wouldn't hold it against anyone if they even bothered to ask and didn't just get straight to shooting. It's really amazing that she's not going straight to shooting, immune or not.]
But it's... kind of a relief... I don't know if... you know... how hard it is... just to get near... living people...
[To be fair, her gun is not currently on her person. Who can speculate about the alternative?
She thinks they might be having two different conversations, though going over it again as best she can in her head, she can't tell where it would have recently split. It's their perspective, then... She was used to that.
His venturing gets her to perk up just a little, her voice moving to an almost conversational pace instead of dragging and clipping.]
Survivors are -- hard mode. [Probably not for the same reasons he's thinking of, but still.] I thought I was going to die when -- you spoke to me. Thought you were one of them.
[Have survivors ever been accused as being "one of them" like that in the apocalypse before?]
[One of them. He's never heard of it like that before. It gets his brow to rise. He's been one of them from the other side for a long time now after all.]
Hard mode...
[He supposes he can understand that. Survivors were bitter and jaded and paranoid. With good reason.]
Who's... easy mode...?
[The dead? Maybe. But they could be difficult an entirely different way.]
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storywalks) wrote2022-07-06 12:41 pm
no subject
...Right, eating dogs. That's where they're at. It is sad. She wishes it would be sadder.]
Hnn.
[Still, the facts are stacked together in her mind like a clumsily picked at, long-lived jenga tower. It makes her feel too wobbly to think about for long.]
...Would y-yyyou? Um, like. Um. [How does she actually put these thoughts into words... This is why she doesn't talk to people. It's too much of a hassle to lay a track down for someone to follow where her brain was going, particularly since the destination wasn't exactly a great one to pass through.
As a shortcut to where she's trying to get him, Ryder raises her arm to display the dirty cuts that had stopped bleeding, pointing at them with her other hand.] ...People? N-not -- wanting. Obv-obviously.
no subject
His head tilts as she begins her question. It stays tilted. Is she asking if he likes people, wants company, or likes people...?]
Um...
[She points to her hand.]
Oh.
[He shifts the quiver a little on his shoulder, uncomfortable. His head ducks.]
... I try... very hard... to be safe... I hunt to... settle my head... [Since the hunger was never going away.] But... not you... [He lifts his head up and it's tilting slightly again, this time with wonder.] It's like... you're turned... but not... Here but...
no subject
[Her hand lowers again and she returns to holding herself, eyes sliding away. Is she supposed to be disgusted? Relieved? What would the hero feel, in this situation? Ryder dismisses that thought before she's even finished it. Even with unlikely and unwilling heroes, she didn't fit the bill. But then, does it matter what she feels? It more or less just feels like confirmation.
Here but...]
Yeah. I dunno.
[She tried not to think about it too much. When she did, she risked remembering the fear in others' eyes as they were torn into mere feet from her even though she'd been the one to fall, leaving Ryder frozen in place until the undead had either had its fill or the bitten and abandoned classmate was through with their crying and seizures and rose up before her. They'd pass by just like in the halls. Any number of nightmares weren't going to illuminate the why of it for her.]
Um... Sorry.
no subject
[Sorry? What's she sorry for? He shakes his head.]
No... It's important... You want to know... if it's safe... that's fair...
[He doesn't hold it against her. He wouldn't hold it against anyone if they even bothered to ask and didn't just get straight to shooting. It's really amazing that she's not going straight to shooting, immune or not.]
But it's... kind of a relief... I don't know if... you know... how hard it is... just to get near... living people...
no subject
She thinks they might be having two different conversations, though going over it again as best she can in her head, she can't tell where it would have recently split. It's their perspective, then... She was used to that.
His venturing gets her to perk up just a little, her voice moving to an almost conversational pace instead of dragging and clipping.]
Survivors are -- hard mode. [Probably not for the same reasons he's thinking of, but still.] I thought I was going to die when -- you spoke to me. Thought you were one of them.
[Have survivors ever been accused as being "one of them" like that in the apocalypse before?]
no subject
Hard mode...
[He supposes he can understand that. Survivors were bitter and jaded and paranoid. With good reason.]
Who's... easy mode...?
[The dead? Maybe. But they could be difficult an entirely different way.]