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:

Me ? My robotic finger shifts and points at myself. Not a hallucination. Though... how do you convince someone of that ? Me's real. Repeating it probably doesn't help.

HRP:

I wince again, this time because he pissed me off a little. I should just get the fuck out of this forsaken place. But I ain't going for a stroll at night, hell no. I need to find a way to know if he's real. I won't ask him to punch me in the face, maybe I'm gonna just punch myself without realizing it - god, this is depressing. "Punch me." I'll know my punches right? Not that I've ever punched myself. Worst case, I might just black out. Which is nice, considering all the horror i've been going through until now.

W-whut ? The stuttering betrays my discomfort. My facial expression however only displays aggression. What are you supposed to do with a body that doesn't accurately portray how you feel ? Maybe becoming full-on cyborg would be a good solution. Something to think about.

I can't help but take a few steps back, putting myself in adequate position of fighting. I know i'm not supposed to defend myself. But. "Try to not aim the face if you can ?" Deep breaths. I'm not a masochist, don't get the wrong idea.

HRP:

Uh-ooh. Big eyes. Huge eyes. This wasn't what was supposed to happen. My right arm seems delighted, as if it were controlled by something else. Someone else. It wasn't me. How to explain this... ? S-sorry... Stammering like a child that gets scolded probably helps. It happened before i— it— my— Can't come up with a decent excuse. It sometimes does that. All blame goes to my violent perverted arm. Don't know who programmed it, but it definitely wasn't me. Um.... ye ok ?

I tried to sit up without removing my gaze from him. "You think you're funny... huh?" I use my shirt - that already reeked of cheese - to wipe my mouth and my nose ; the blood didn't stop running down however. I'm pretty sure now, he's not an hallucination. I manage to get up "Well... you're right... you're the funniest thing I've seen... " I grin, embittered. More because I've been stupid enough to trust him one second. I'm trying to catch my breath which is painful by the way. But after that, I'm gonna catch him.

No....... Never once in my life did that thought cross my mind. There was no funny bone in my entire body. Most of the time, jokes flew right past me. Didn't get them. Too slow to process adequately. (At least, that's what they keep telling me.) Not quite sure what Serah was getting at, but his smile brought me discomfort. That's not supposed to happen either, right ? Normally a smile is supposed to make you feel better about yourself. Serah's was just plain creepy. Shivers ran down my spine.

Uhuu. Acknowledgment by head nod. The banging could be heard loud and clear. Never saw whatever else Serah though he was seeing, but could definitely hear that. Maybe he'll be in a better mood now ? Still friends ? (If we ever were, that is.)

HRP:

Good, never thought in my life I'd be happy to know that a zombie exist.
I point behind him this time. "And that ?"

Turn around slowly and stare at the wall. It's a nice wall. You know... as far as walls go. Not an ugly wall. Average. But it does what it's supposed to do : support the roof. So... probably a nice wall. Can hear myself say this : 's a good wall. Not sure what he wanted. Maybe he wanted me to see something else ? Should've pretended.

Trying to sneak rapidly, so I can hit him while he isn't paying attention. My fist collided with his jaw, while I was still protecting my nose with my other hand - which is dripping blood. I step back a little afterward "Now... now we're even." my voice came out nasally. "Classic trick, don't worry, t's not your fault if you fell for it, Riot.... it was brilliantly orchestrated after all... hah..." Has your head swollen too, Serah? You're still backing off though.

Ow. Betrayal. So easy to break someone's trust. No different for me. Used, abused. Same old story. My sad expression probably looks pissed off to outsiders — those who really know me know better. My jaw hurts, but it's not the first time it does. Being familiar with a violent daily life on a violent planet will do that for you. Got my fair share of punches; never deserved it though. Always get dragged into fights by outsiders. Nodding again. He's right. It was brilliant. Fell right in it.

HRP:

Why is he stalking me? Is he waiting for the perfect occasion to strike back? Urg, I'm too stunned to keep being on my toes. I straighten my head to look at him when he talks, surprised "Alright, good one." I laugh nasally a little, and wince a lot. My stomach gurgles again "... I'm going to sleep." I don't try to approach him. Waiting for him to move aside - if he isn't cornering me, that is. The bathroom is small.

No. Not plotting anything. Especially not stabbing people. Might be an adrenaline junkie but that's the wrong kind of adrenaline. My rush comes from speed. Not the drug — the physical law. Is it? Speed: part of the laws of physics? Don't know. Never went to school. Only know ships. Make them speak. Bend to my will. Make 'em fast and enjoy the ride. Wait. A thought occurs to me. Didn't he ask me where we were? Not his place then. Why did my brain think that?

Although I do wish to believe him. I hate it when i'm right. "Mh." It's almost pitch black, I didn't realize. Fortunately, I've found some candles on the nightstand. I headed back to the bedroom. " How about your eye. " I keep talking while climbing the stairs, my hand firmly gripped to the ramp " Lost in a race, too?"

My hand moves up and follows the scar that reaches to the beginning of my hairline. Not a pretty sight, they tell me.  Stupid story too. Yes. Flew into a pole. "You're too damn honest, Ry'. You should spin a story. Tell 'em they should see the other guy. Or better yet: tell 'em you fought a T-rex droid and WON." People keep telling me that too. Never did try it though. Lying isn't my forte. Bragging ain't either. Was electric. Smelled like burnt toast all week.

He's having one of his episodes again. Even I can tell. The hallway is dark and silent. Oh, right. It wasn't silent before. Some dog was trapped. I wonder if we should've freed it. Animal rights and all. What was what? I attempt to ask him, even though I probably can't help. Can't hear what's in his head.