[Fic] Redemption
Jul. 2nd, 2009 12:03 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
kittydesadeCharacter: The Sorcerer (Metafiction)
Comm: Theatrical Muse
Prompt: #288 Do you believe redemption is possible?
High ground was defensible ground. This ground had access to a small spring that flowed in from the mountains, and they already had stored a number of water jugs in the basement. Food wouldn't be a problem with the garden on the roof, with adequate hunting if they went out in groups and the vast stores of tinned things, also in the basement. With luck the virus would have run its course, the bulk of the zombies dead of starvation by the time they had to resort solely to hunting and gathering. With luck.
Luck had been scarce the past few weeks, she thought.
They were sitting on the ledge that bordered the garden. It was one of the most modern buildings, too, had been. Composting. Solar power. Not bad for a hideaway, sturdy and practical. "Do you think..." a voice came from behind her, and she almost fell off the top of the building. "... that they'll start attacking each other to get food once they've run out of us?"
"What do you mean us, boy?" she griped back at him, but scooted over to give him room on the ledge that was wide enough for at least twenty people. He sat down next to her anyway. "They're already cannibals, aren't they? Unless the virus makes them unpalatable to each other."
"That would be... very bad for us, actually," he changed his mind in mid sentence. "That would mean they'd come charging up over the hill to get at a good beefsteak. Humansteak."
"Human steak?" she glanced over at him, smiling.
"Human steak!"
They chuckled quietly, together, until she leaned her cheek on his shoulder. The sun was warm on their skin, and they probably should have been wearing sunscreen but that would be hard to come by at the best of times, right now. Her coloring was more suited to the outdoors than his, so she got the brunt of the outdoor work. She'd have to remember to shoo him inside soon.
"Do you think..."
She raised her head and looked at him. He stopped, as though he hadn't meant to make her move away like that, which was noteworthy in and of itself. He initiated physical contact, rarely tolerated it longer than the minimum length of politeness, almost never allowed anything that resembled cuddling. It was too intimate, and he rarely permitted intimacy. Except when he was in need of some comfort, or feeling badly about something he'd done.
They held that moment between them for a second, afraid to move lest they drop it.
"Do you think," he resumed after a breath, as though they'd never paused. "That they could ever turn back into human? Like... defeating a flu virus?"
That was an interesting thought. She turned it around in her head while she tucked her cheek back to his shoulder; if he was in such a state of unrest as it was, this conversation wasn't going to make it any better. "I don't know. I don't know enough about how this works, how viruses work. It's possible. If their bodies are still manufacturing antibodies, but they would need a steady food and water source, and the damage would need to be reversible, and we just don't know enough about how that works..."
Unless, of course, he wasn't talking about the zombies. Or only about the zombies. You never really could tell with him except that he was, most of the time, talking about more than was just on the surface. Even if you were the one doing the talking, he was listening to how you said it and the words you used on a more conscious level than most people lived.
Had lived.
"Anything's possible," she said finally. "I don't know enough about the circumstances. But until I do, I guess, until I know the context and know that there's no hope of return or of fixing it, yeah. It's possible they could turn back. Never know if Pinocchio will turn into a real live boy unless you try." All right, that was less than subtle, but she thought she'd made her point.
"Nice." Irritated, perhaps that she'd been so obvious about it. Then, in the next word: "Sorry."
"That's all right."
He put his arm around her shoulders anyway. She curled her fingers into the fabric of his shirt, careful not to touch the body beneath. There was always hope for them, for all of them, even for him. She truly did believe that.
And if she told it to him often enough, maybe he'd believe it too.
Comm: Theatrical Muse
Prompt: #288 Do you believe redemption is possible?
High ground was defensible ground. This ground had access to a small spring that flowed in from the mountains, and they already had stored a number of water jugs in the basement. Food wouldn't be a problem with the garden on the roof, with adequate hunting if they went out in groups and the vast stores of tinned things, also in the basement. With luck the virus would have run its course, the bulk of the zombies dead of starvation by the time they had to resort solely to hunting and gathering. With luck.
Luck had been scarce the past few weeks, she thought.
They were sitting on the ledge that bordered the garden. It was one of the most modern buildings, too, had been. Composting. Solar power. Not bad for a hideaway, sturdy and practical. "Do you think..." a voice came from behind her, and she almost fell off the top of the building. "... that they'll start attacking each other to get food once they've run out of us?"
"What do you mean us, boy?" she griped back at him, but scooted over to give him room on the ledge that was wide enough for at least twenty people. He sat down next to her anyway. "They're already cannibals, aren't they? Unless the virus makes them unpalatable to each other."
"That would be... very bad for us, actually," he changed his mind in mid sentence. "That would mean they'd come charging up over the hill to get at a good beefsteak. Humansteak."
"Human steak?" she glanced over at him, smiling.
"Human steak!"
They chuckled quietly, together, until she leaned her cheek on his shoulder. The sun was warm on their skin, and they probably should have been wearing sunscreen but that would be hard to come by at the best of times, right now. Her coloring was more suited to the outdoors than his, so she got the brunt of the outdoor work. She'd have to remember to shoo him inside soon.
"Do you think..."
She raised her head and looked at him. He stopped, as though he hadn't meant to make her move away like that, which was noteworthy in and of itself. He initiated physical contact, rarely tolerated it longer than the minimum length of politeness, almost never allowed anything that resembled cuddling. It was too intimate, and he rarely permitted intimacy. Except when he was in need of some comfort, or feeling badly about something he'd done.
They held that moment between them for a second, afraid to move lest they drop it.
"Do you think," he resumed after a breath, as though they'd never paused. "That they could ever turn back into human? Like... defeating a flu virus?"
That was an interesting thought. She turned it around in her head while she tucked her cheek back to his shoulder; if he was in such a state of unrest as it was, this conversation wasn't going to make it any better. "I don't know. I don't know enough about how this works, how viruses work. It's possible. If their bodies are still manufacturing antibodies, but they would need a steady food and water source, and the damage would need to be reversible, and we just don't know enough about how that works..."
Unless, of course, he wasn't talking about the zombies. Or only about the zombies. You never really could tell with him except that he was, most of the time, talking about more than was just on the surface. Even if you were the one doing the talking, he was listening to how you said it and the words you used on a more conscious level than most people lived.
Had lived.
"Anything's possible," she said finally. "I don't know enough about the circumstances. But until I do, I guess, until I know the context and know that there's no hope of return or of fixing it, yeah. It's possible they could turn back. Never know if Pinocchio will turn into a real live boy unless you try." All right, that was less than subtle, but she thought she'd made her point.
"Nice." Irritated, perhaps that she'd been so obvious about it. Then, in the next word: "Sorry."
"That's all right."
He put his arm around her shoulders anyway. She curled her fingers into the fabric of his shirt, careful not to touch the body beneath. There was always hope for them, for all of them, even for him. She truly did believe that.
And if she told it to him often enough, maybe he'd believe it too.