Rappel du premier message :

CONTRAT DE NOT'RP !

- Statut du RP : privé i guess ? :d
- Tour de jeu : //
- Délai maximum d'attente de réponse : hmm, deux semaines ?
- Autre : yes.

Don't you hate it when you wake up and end up not knowing where you are ?
I don’t. It’s one of my favorite pure bliss moment, actually ; you basically forget about everything that's a big deal. Like the fact that you are in a zombie apocalypse. Shit I remember that. Great, now it’s ruined.

… I still have no clue about this place though. No clue at all.

Although it does look like a living room, and an old-fashioned one that is ; chimney made of visible bricks, velvet curtains (there's a dusty beam of light passing throught, so I assume It’s morning – at least I know when I am) ; and a gloomy decoration (weird-ass looking portraits and two skulls in the shelves) ; did I mention the number of books in here ? No I didn’t because it would take a while to count them.

I left the bearskin carpet (where I was sitting) to get close to the shelves, I reached for one random book aaand… it was gibberish. I tried my luck with two more but they were also written in a foreign language. When I went to take a look out the window, the sight was poor as fuck. Only grass, that’s it. I couldn’t open the window, and I’m not dumb enough to break it, the smash could wake up the deads.

It was clearly a home, or maybe a mansion ; he’d have to explore it to know for sure.

I'm usually slow at waking up but, I’m little too conscious at this point to not remember anything related to this location and…an–

And he sneezed really loud. It was really dusty in here.

HRP:

"What?!" I stop and turn around quickly toward him, looking at his face, then at the can of food that I didn't notice before. Calm the fuck down, Serah, he probably can pin you to the wall with one punch. "Mh, sorry. You can eat and walk right?" I slowed my steps a little, and opened another room with a good kick. I'm on rampage mode. It's a dining room. Hella big. With a piano in one corner.

He's right. Eating and walking at the same time is one of his specialties. Gotta find a can opener though. Or something sharp. Yeah yeah. Yeah. Following the guy is easy. He is loud and obnoxious. Like he has a firecracker up his ass. Crazy will do that to you. My fingers play around with the tin can, attempting to open it without the use of any tools, but it's probably futile. Hav' a knife ?

HRP:

Making sure that I still had my knives was the first thing I did when I woke up. "'ve got two. " Why are you telling him that you idiot. I pass him my cutter anyway.
Since there's no ass to kick in this floor, I'm heading for the stairs.

HRP:

Following him, still, though a bit slower now. My left hand holds the canned mac'n while my robotic arm attempts to plunge the knife into the metal and break its shell. Things don't go as expected. My right arm has a life of its own, sorta. Badly programmed. Can't judge its strength. The knife does go in, but at such a fast pace that the can explodes. Mac'n'cheese everywhere. On the floor, on myself, on that other guy. What a massacre. My heart aches. All that food... wasted...

HRP:

....GREAT. Just great. Having the time of my life. Where are all the zombies when I need them ? They're really missing out the party, i'm in a great mood right now. I cringe and use a piece of his toga to wipe what's poured over me. "Just so you know. I’m not sharing the next food I find with you just because you ruined this one." I'm heading up to the next floor.

Sadness overwhelms me. My face probably doesn't express that. Experience tells me it tends to display the opposite emotion. Or rather : it always looks angry. 'M probably scowling right now. Don't mean to, but can't control my face. Trying to wipe off as much of the cheesy mixture as possible — licking it off my fingers when possible (can't help myself) — then follow him up. The place looks abandoned. Why are we here again ? It dawns on me that we've yet to answer that question. Waz' your name ?

I angered him… the crazy shit I do or say when I’m pissed, I swear. Sometimes I wonder how I survived this far with this loudmouth of mine. Then I remember that my looks might have helped a little. Thanks mom (u'r welcome honey). He can come at me though, I’m on the lookout. But he only speaks when I’m mid-stairs. "… Serah. You?" I don’t stop climbing until I reach the next floor.

My name : always tricky. Are you supposed to give your real name, the one you were born with and that's on your ID, or the one everyone calls you? Anarchi keeps telling me to use my stage name. "The only way ye'll get famous, ya big asswipe." Anarchi is right (most of the time) so it's out before me's able to stop it : Ryot. Strange name. My nerves get the better of me. Hope he won't think me's boasting or anything.

I gaze down at him (from upstairs). Riot, huh? Is this a nickname or his way of challenging me ? Whatever, I’m gonna play along. I grin, "Riot it is, then." The next room within reach that I try is a bedroom. It’s a good thing that not all the doors are locked. I cast a glance at the window - a little scared, must admit - but no jump scares this time. Of course, there's no fun if you're expecting it right? I hate my brain. I go inside to search for anything useful. “HEY THERE’S CLOTHES IN HERE”

My mind doesn't immediately register that he says this because my body is frightfully half-dressed (if you can call this "dressed"). My lack of reaction at the statement and the following silence do push me to rethink it, though. Oh. Right. Clothes. Cause clothes are needed. Cause a shower curtain is all that's there to cover my body. A small nod is enough as a gesture to communicate my thanks. My legs move over to the closet and my eyes look inside. Awful lot of dresses there. Where are the— ah there. Pants.

HRP:

I sat on the bed; and it's so comfortable that I ended up lying down. Oh man, I haven't slept on something this cozy since a long time ago. Maybe I'm just tired, that's why I've hallucinated, yeah...
My stomach gurgles. I stretch my arm to open the drawers of the nightstand at hand. I find candles and matches. "It doesn't appear there's zombies in here. And if there is, they must be locked down somewhere."

HRP:

"Abroa-wha…. HAHAhaha" I’ve straightened my neck just barely to look at him and… what the hell is he wearing again!? Shit, I can’t stop laughing. It’s killing me. My laughters are going louder and louder, I think it turned into a nervous laughter at some point. The thing is, I’m beginning to suffer now, can’t help but hit the bed repeatedly with my hand. I can’t… too much… the best part is that he’s… h-ha.. "totally… oblivious… pfuhahaha"

Whot... ? My body turns, trying to see what's so funny. Something must be. Or maybe he's hallucinating again. Don't see anything. Nervously scratching my nose, waiting for him to calm down.

HRP:

I got up and left the room, hoping that not seeing his dickhead would calm me down a little - my abs are aching. I ended up returning, but failed to wipe my grin however "So... haha... Those are women pants. But well, guess it's better than nothing haha"

HRP:

Can't stop myself from glancing down. They are ? It's hard to tell these things. Pants are pants, right ? What makes them female ? My shoulders lift in a shrug. Don't seem to care. They fit. It's true. They kinda do. Can't help but think that perhaps that was not the point Serah was trying to make, but it's all good. Pants don't fall off. Shower curtains do.

Aha. I went to the room, to make sure that it's properly locked that is. It is. "Thanks for your honesty, bud'. 'Afraid I'll have to keep you here, though." I chuckle - I'm really tired ok, don't judge my jokes at my weakest moments. When I turned around, however, I "AH!!" froze; I think that my heart couldn't handle the sight and fell to my feet. It fell the same way that body I just saw, falling from the ceiling to the ground floor. A woman, I'm not sure. I gulped and went to check over the railing. Nothing.

Not sure what just happened. A second ago he was giggling, talking to the thing on the other side of the locked door, and now he was having one of his episodes. Curiouser and curiouser. My mind is reduced to following Serah's strange behavior. First on the ground, then looking for an invisible figure over the railing. Um... Hesitation marks my voice. Ye ok ?

How can I not suspect him, honestly ? I didn't answer and crouched calmly, my hands still hanging against the balcony. I even suspect myself. There's two possible explanations : either i'm the odd one, or he is. It's obvious enough that it's not me. I clench my hands against the guardrail and get up. "So. What's up with your arm ?" I had a fleeting glance at it.

Stare at him at first, wondering what he means. Then find myself looking at my left arm. It's a totally normal arm. Oh. Oh, he means the other. Glancing at my metal bulky arm now. Of course he meant that arm. M' such an idiot sometimes. Yeah. Acknowledgments first. It's crappy. It doesn't even occur to me that he never saw a body part like this before.

I’m not ok. I’m not ok at all. Just trying to change the subject while turning my back from the crime scene. My heart won’t stop pounding, pretty sure I’m white as a sheet. " Huh… yeah, it does seem crappy. " Technology has come far before the apocalypse, I wonder if he crafted it somehow. " How did you lose your arm, though?"

Ah. It was an accident. It comes out slowly. During a race. Speaking with a lot of pauses like this tends to drive people crazy. Attempting to speed up now. Got pushed to the side by a competitor and couldn't avoid the canyon wall. Arm got ripped straight off. Still feel the dull pain of my missing limb sometimes. Hard to finish race with one arm. Ship was ok though. Not in perfect state, but still able to fly, thank xzblorg.