InsaneJournal

Tweak says, "Clean it again."

vc_player_npc (vc_player_npc) wrote in vas_captio_rpg,
@ 2009-09-05 16:15:00

Entry tags:

!shelved, chris halliwell, day 22, location: gym, npc

Day Twenty Two, Noon
Who: Zombie!Piper and OTA
What: Lunch, hopefully
Where: The Gym
When: Noon
Rating: PG-13
Status: Active

Piper Halliwell slowly emerged from the woods that encircled the little village of Vas, a low groan escaping her mouth as she spotted what used to be familiar buildings. The former witch was barely recognizable after her prolonged stay underground. Her skin was waxy and mottled with dirt and decay. Patches of her hair were missing and the parts that were still with her hung encrusted with dirt to her shoulders. Only her eyes, nose and mouth vaguely retained their shape under the grime and decomposition and even then they weren't the same. Her eyes lacked their usual intelligent spark, the left side of her nose was smashed in and her lips were cracked and parted as she moaned unintelligibly.

It was a good thing Piper had always been more practically driven than vain considering her current quest. Brains, that was what was on her mind, if not in it.

And it was brains that she was seeking as she moved jerkily forward in the darkness toward the square of the gym.

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changethefuture
2009-09-11 03:48 am UTC (link)

The smell, the feel... it was sensory overload in the worst way. The mere weight on his chest made it hard to breathe, smell aside, and when he gave a half-hearted attempt at a push his fingers seemed to sink in and his whole body shuddered. Something soft touched his face and he instinctively jerked his head back, unintentionally exposing his neck more. His mind was torn between 'mom' and 'monster' but that all fell away as he felt intense pain at his neck.

The cry ripped from his mouth was as much pain as it was anguish and the thought flashed through his mind that he was about to die. Again. Well, that seemed to finally kick some of his instincts into gear.

Chris orbed without a conscious thought, something that tended to only happen in situations of extreme duress, his instincts sending him to the last place he considered safe: the gym. Whether he would remain there long, or whether the smell of his spilled blood would prove to make him easy to track, would have to be seen.

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