creator_raven | (no subject)

Ace can remember how long it's been.

Well, she can remember how long it's been since she last died - two hours, five minutes, thirty-two seconds.

She's kinda hoping she'll break three hours as she trudges across the seemingly-endless desert. It'd be a record for today.

There are no camels.

Or lizards.

Or markers in the distance.

Just sand and sun and a dry, blistering heat.

Or is that a shadow on the horizon?

While Ace appreciates the heat, she's less of a fan of the blistering. And yes, she decides, that's a shadow on the horizon. So she starts heading in that direction instead.

And tells herself that the moaning is wind in a canyon nearby.

The moaning is definitely from the canyon.

In part.

The shadow on the horizon is spreading.

And in the sky --

A black speck seems to be moving closer.

Very quickly.

Ace squints at it.

And, for lack of a better test, digs a cookie out of her knapsack and throws it skyward.

The small black speck falls out of the sky.

Screaming.

splat

It smells like rot.

"That, I think, was very messy."

Raven would sound amused, perhaps, if he were not sitting at the edge of the canyon, head tilted back and legs hanging down.

Maybe he is tanning. But probably not.

Ace hops a step back, to avoid splatter.

"... Ew." And, since her brother has decided to speak up, she heads in his direction. "Any reason it's raining long-dead people?"

"Possibly there was another tornado."

He does not sound sheepish.

And the moaning sound is getting louder.

Even though there is no breeze.

"Another tornado. You're inventiveness is flaggin' there, Adobebutt." She notes, edging closer to the edge cautiously. "Any reason the long-dead-people that are rainin' down are makin' noise?"

Raven snorts. Loudly.

And maybe a little tiredly.

"It is, perhaps, not so much me."

He is very inventive, thank you very much.

Even if -- anyway.

"Also possibly they are for being hungry, too, I think."

"... They?" Ace repeats, as she sits down next to him. "Elaboration is good, y'know."

His mouth twists, and he snorts again.

"You are not so much for guessing, perhaps?"

Down in the canyon there are things moving, slow and steady.

They are bigger than ants.

"Not where you're concerned." Ace retorts, pulling one of her indestructible boxes from her knapsack. "Tell, or these go splat on the floor of the canyon." She threatens, holding the box over the ledge with her finger on the latch.

"It is not so dangerous, perhaps."

He makes a face.

"Unless there are brains inside. So."

"... Since when do you like brains? I thought you were an eye freak." She asks, now very confused.

And yes, those down below are much bigger than ants.

Now he looks cranky.

"They will eat those, too. It is unfortunate."

And if he throws a rock down into the canyon --

It is only because he is bored.

"There's that 'they' word again, I'm beginnin' to not like the 'they' word." She warns, cracking open the box a fraction. The sweet sweet smell of chocolate chip macadamia nut cookies wafts out.

Definitely not brains.

"Last chance, birdy."

And that, of course, is when the zombies attack. Not from the canyon in front of them, but from the sky.

Wait.

Maybe they just found a path up from the canyon floor.

Who knows?

Edited 2009-07-07 04:23 (UTC)

Now, when dealing with Raven and the associated atrocious luck that goes with this sort of venture, Ace has become... resigned is not quite the right word, but it is within the ballpark. Anyway, she expects that somewhere along the line, she's going to get killed.

She's fairly sure, in the way that certain things are just obvious, that dying due to zombie attack would be a very very very bad thing, even for her. As well as being one of the least pleasant things to recover from.

This'd be why the box is now plummeting to earth faaaaaar below and a small Eurasian Jay is rocketing skyward.

Raven sighs.

Loudly.

Then he dives after the box.

Who knew a raven could fall so fast?

Probably the zombie that's falling alongside him?

Ace is displaying an absolutely horrendous lack of familial feeling and is not coming to Raven's rescue, the cookie's rescue or... anyone else's rescue either.

Mostly because the little birdy was kicked upside the head by a flailing, falling zombie, and it's hard to come to anyone's rescue when unconscious.

Bad excuse, we know. She'd apologies if, you know, she was awake.

At least the sudden screaming sandstorm means the zombies won't get her first?

She'll just -- get smothered by sand.

But once Raven has caught the box of cookies --

Surely then he will return to unbury her.

Surely.

(Even if she might be safer left right where she is.)

Sure.

We can see the logic of that. Underground is a good place for dead people, even if it's temporary.

...

Unless you're worried about fire ants.

When Ace wakes up, she immediately wishes she hadn't. That sand pile over there is flailing.

In a small, feathery way, of course.

Raven sighs.

And digs through the sand.

And the fire-ants.

At least all the zombie flesh was destroyed by the sandstorm?

Okay, most of the zombie flesh.

Raven sets fire to the rest of it. Idly.

The smell is awful.

Thankfully, Eurasian Jays aren't known for their sense of smell.

They are, however, known for their cleverness.

Ace quickly discovers how many cookies are gone from the box.

And begins laying on the abuse. Since no one's been talking recently, her vocabulary is limited to... um... nothing, but she can rail at him all the same.

Loudly.

Her lungs are fine, at the moment.

At least her loud noises are muffled when he stuffs her in his pocket?

String and thread are good for nests.

And this way the zombies cannot get her.

Not even the ones falling from the sky.

Again.

She manages to peck his hand as she disappears into his pocket with a startled squawk.

A while later, she finds the opening to the pocket again and reaches out, poking him in the side.

With her hand.

Look, it's a big pocket.

Almost big enough for Raven to crawl inside, himself.

He moves elsewhere instead.

To somewhere with fewer zombies.

And maybe a hot dog stand.

These are trying times.