If you're scared that you're going to end up on the ground, don't be. I'm not going to let you hit the floor, dear.
[ his arms are still extended, ready to catch her anytime. his brow raises as there's the slightest shrug of his shoulders as though he's saying the decision he makes is the right one. therefore, he waits. ]
[ Finally, august thinks briefly before watching her finally take the plunge.
his thoughts immediately disappear upon contact when he catches her with strong arms because there's a slight stumble with his footing to make sure she lands with as much comfort as he can give her. what he doesn't do, however, is place her on the ground immediately.
the way he notices too late that their faces are so close, how he holds onto her tight to make sure she doesn't accidentally slip while he carries her like a princess, the magnetism that draws him to her face that lasts for a few seconds before he finally lets her feet hit the floor. ]
[Yeah no her eyes are shut and he’s going to catch her and there’s that briefest moment of panic where she forces herself not to flail. Flailing is bad. She might hit him or make him drop her or something. But she lands in his arms with a soft oof and she automatically throws her arms around him. A few moments of stillness, of steadying her breath, and then she deems it safe enough to open her eyes.
He’s really close. She doesn’t move, doesn’t say a word, just smiles a little, then looks away after catching herself looking into his eyes for a bit. It’s quiet save for the thudding of her heart. She’s probably breathing too loud? Seems that way. Dizzy. Her arms remain around his neck until she feels herself shift and her feet touch the floor. And then she can finally breathe.]
Not bad at all. [A shaky little laugh.] Nice catch.
I told you I wasn't going to let you fall. Trust me when it comes to these things, won't you?
[ even when, back in the day, he was a rather selfish man who went forward without thinking of others. the consequences of his actions is what makes him the man today. sometimes he becomes greedy again but remembers to keep his team in mind more often — how he has to be more patient and wait. it results in his squad living longer despite a target getting away with a sliver of their life left.
this applies to wendy, his new found patience. ]
Shall we continue then? I believe I saw two more doors back in the first hallway.
[ to which he guides her back to the first door that leads back to the two dead bodies. she has the key and there are other places they have yet to check. by the time he steps inside however a new zombie shows up from the opposite side of the hall. quickly dispatching it with the whistler, he pockets his smart gun before it hits the ground. ]
I’m trying. [She mumbles this, tucks a bit of hair behind her ear. Huff. Having someone else be right all the time - yeah it’s taking some getting used to on her part. She knows everything, remember? Enough, anyway. (Clearly she doesn’t. And it makes her feel dumb. Thank you, anxiety.)
She nods and follows him back to the hallway and her hand ends up gripping onto his shirt along the way. She doesn’t want to hold him back or trip him up, but she wants the contact. It helps her feel better, a bit more at ease despite the heavy atmosphere.
The dead bodies are still there - that’s a plus, right? They haven’t moved. No reanimation there. But there’s also a new friend and she takes a step back from August to let him do his thing. He makes it look so easy.
Her hand slips into her pocket and she pulls the key out for him, holding it out in her palm.]
It better work… [Yeah it still sounds like it’s storming outside, but the longer she stays here the worse she feels - present company aside.]
[ door number one: he puts the key in and tries to turn it. no luck — he lets out a disappointed hum — as he removes it from the slot. as august shakes his head. ]
Not for this one. [ he says, and then heads for the next door. key in, turn impossible. ] And neither for this...
[ glancing at the key, he heads down the hall opposite of where they initially go. the key spins between his fingers as they turn a corner. no surprise to attack them with undead hands and teeth like the first, but he does spot a locked elevator shaft with no elevator. from there he goes down a small staircase only lit by one bulb, the end being another door. august checks the handle and it's locked, and when he tries the key it's not successful. ]
Perhaps this is meant for something else entirely. I noticed certain symbols like armor and swords on the door... this has armor on it, but it doesn't open. Curiouser and curiouser...
[ this is the part where he hands the key back to wendy. ]
We might have to check the otherside of the mansion.
[She sticks with him, following him from spot to spot like his little shadow. Frowns when the first door doesn’t work. Sighs when the second doesn’t.]
Is everything in this place locked? How are we supposed to find more keys if we can’t get anywhere to look.
[Her arms end up crossing over her chest. She’s dried off for the most part but the mere idea of being stuck in such a place gives her the chills.]
So matching the symbols doesn’t do anything. Unless that doesn’t matter at all and it’s just a red herring entirely… [When she reaches out to take the key back, their fingers brush. Accidental. Time and a place. Not here, not now. The key goes back into her pocket.]
I’m trying to remember if anyone from S.T.A.R.S. had anything pertinent in their files. Nothing comes to mind.
Perhaps like the information you found it wasn't shared with you.
[ august remembers the hierarchy she tells him before. how she needs to stay on top of things least chaos occurs. whoever her bosses are must have access to it, right? or if not her immediate superior it may be the next. what depths and details do they have within the eldritch being's lair? his thoughts are erased the moment their fingers come in contact for the briefest moment — she's soft even with the smallest touch. ]
I'd shoot it open if it didn't draw attention — well, aside from when I already used it. Best to keep things quiet from now on, yes?
[ he makes a small hand gesture as if to say follow him back up. they're going to the opposite wing of the mansion. ]
Super convenient, huh? [Totally useful for their current situation. She’s ecstatic about it (no she isn’t). Keeping her bitterness to herself, but still sucking her teeth in annoyance - that’s her.]
Could do that. [Her head moves from side to side, like she’s mentally weighing the options here.] Could just keep shooting things open. Both work…
[Wait! She scurries after him, grabbing hold of his hand in a rather bold move to get him to wait up for her.]
[ before he's able to reply, there's her hand against his. there's no skinship due to his gloves that are slowly drying up but it's the fact that they're holding hands in the first place... it can't be helped when august gives into spontaneous actions and gives her a squeeze, not letting go at all. ]
If it's any of the usual, I'll just rip their head off. Simple.
[ which requires letting go of her, but for now he allows it as they venture back to the main hall. ]
Tell me about these S.T.A.R.S. fellows. Sounds like you've studied them before.
[Wendy just wanted him to wait up, not to - oh. His hand gives hers a squeeze and her mouth twitches into the faintest smile. A part of her wants to pull away - but he isn’t, so she doesn’t. The awkwardness is fleeting.]
Simple for you maybe. [There’s a pointed nod from her, and her tone is playful. She’s smiling a bit more.]
Uh - don’t know much. Gonna go out on a limb and say this particular spot is for them. That’s how it is here - every location has a purpose. They’re linked to people’s memories. A personal sort of purgatory maybe? [Oh - that realization hits different right now.
Moving on.]
I’m going to assume these zombies are manmade? I remember something about viruses. Those are always fun.
Purgatory to some, hell to others — to encounter certain one makes it the latter, surely. [ he lets out a soft hum as they walk down the hall, and back through the door that leads to the dining room. ] And then truly live it...
[ definitely hell over purgatory especially with no way to escape. there's the campfire he's told about for survivors and killers — most of them — have their own place. he's seen creatures from the unknown crawl around while he keeps himself silent and men with large swords on the hunt. always the viewer and never the encounter. sometimes he's tempted to for a challenge but this isn't the arenas. this is for survival. ]
Haven't seen any of mine dancing around. I suppose I'm lucky to be in the position I'm in, hm?
I’m not much of a spiritual person… that’s only on a strict technicality… A frowny face as she thinks on the logic here.]
I’d say this place counts as both? It’s literal hell and you don’t know where you’re going to end up. If you manage to get anywhere at all.
[Okay so it’s a grim topic of discussion - but they’re definitely holding hands during it. Neither of them are looking to pull away either. This is an odd development, but Wendy’s strangely okay with it. This place is scary and she’s spooked. Justification.]
Actually - I’d say you’re lucky. She’s choosing not to use your past against you. And that’s good. I wish I could say the same for myself.
[ a hum leaves his throat at wendy's last sentence. does that mean — ]
— you've seen places rooted from your memories? [ whatever horrors she's dealt with, physically and psychologically, he assumes. ] Unfortunate. I thought someone of your position would be immune to your lord's powers and whatnot, being able to navigate through all the fog and all.
Well - no. Not exactly. [She shakes her head a little. No fake Facility. The realms are their own respective things. She doesn’t know anyone else here from her old life. No one’s shown up as far as she can tell. She’s utterly alone - in a more literal sense than ever before.]
The irony of my new career path isn’t lost on me. I bet she thinks she’s being real funny. [Putting her in such a position that would atrophy her brain into absolute uselessness the more time goes on.]
[ "she" — the entity, he remembers her telling before. an eldritch creature that sweeps him away in the first place. so wendy's a prisoner of this world as well... he should have suspected it, really. who would be willing to work for her after all? aside from cults, yet she doesn't seem to be the type unless he's wrong about what he knows of her. ]
Oh, yes. Though it has its own blood games after all, I'd imagine it enjoy variety unless it's truly an animal in mind and heart.
[ it's smart to force survivors to do this and that in trials though, isn't it?
at this point they're in the main lobby, heading to the opposite end of the hall. ]
Better your line of work over joining the unlucky ones, yes?
[It’s different this time. She has no free will, no say in whether or not she participates in worship. Last time - back home - that was a conscientious decision on her part. It made sense. The cause was important to her.
Here… forget it. It’s just a prison.]
I’m grateful it’s not me. [A slight nod.] I’ve seen so many of these trials at this point you’d think it wouldn’t get to me. It’s rare, but - sometimes they do.
[ he does, however, give wendy's hand another squeeze as they begin their walk. to imagine wendy on one of those disgusting rusty hooks until she's taken... he forces his imagination to stop least it gets worse and he doesn't want it to get worse. it's the reason why he doesn't let go of her hand until hearing a familiar groan when they enter the next room.
letting go of her hand, he makes a hand gesture as if to say stay here. the room they enter has a statue, a few paintings, a stepping ladder, a closed door, and a heavy looking console table blocking an open doorway with curtains. it's not long until another zombie makes itself known, trying to climb over the table. it's quick and easy to deal with the problem when all august has to do is slam its skull against the table until it's nothing but blood and flesh and bone.
he shakes the blood off his glove, unable to notice what looks like a rolled up piece of paper hanging in the jar the state holds. ]
[No matter how many times Wendy reviews files and histories with a fine-toothed comb, she reaches the same conclusion in the end: no one deserves that torture. Not a single person. On the survivor side of things at least. Her sympathy for killers runs much too thin nowadays.
Wendy has no dossier on August, only knows the barest of minimums about the man, but as far as she’s concerned - he wouldn’t deserve to be stuck in the endless cycle of cat-and-mouse torture games either. Not after all the selfless kindness he’s shown towards her in the short time they’ve known each other.
She doesn’t even notice he was still holding her hand until it’s gone. Its absence is palatable. Worry on her face, she looks to him and nods in understanding. Her fingers flex, and she’s wringing her hands out of nerves as she stays behind.
She does take a step or two. They’re just hesitant ones. She wants to listen but doesn’t want to leave him alone. As long as he’s in her sight…
Her attention goes towards the layout of the room, the items inside with them. Up until he’s disposing of another zombie - this time with his hands instead of firearms. She doesn’t want to look - not at first - and simply turns her head, choosing to stare at the nearby statue, the paintings on the walls, back to the statue. The sounds are bad enough on their own. She does sneak a glance before the thing drops to the floor, brain utterly destroyed. And she makes a face, borderline disgusted.
Going to be obedient and stay put until told otherwise, still surveying their surroundings with occasional glances around.]
[ curling his fingers together, august shoves the dead body onto the ground and then immediately flexes them out in attempt to flick off blood and bits of flesh. disgusting. he's never handed rotting meat and initially didn't have plans to, but there are creatures in the way. literally smashing a person's head on a wooden table most likely doesn't qualify as "quiet" but it's is by comparison to guns, right?
he pushes the table to the side and walks over the body. another room... now that there's no problem he heads in first just in case there's trouble. fortunately there's nothing inside, and all he finds is another dagger that he grabs hold. now, because he's deep inside the room, august doesn't hear the rise of the deceased returning back onto its feed with its flesh scarred and bleeding, its nails long and sharpened — one of the fastest after its second death. if only he knew that these particular brand of zombies have a third chance at life, where it's faster and hungrier and has its lack of sights on wendy.
it runs right at her, hands forward and claws sharp in attempt to swipe. steam escapes through its orifices as it releases out monstrous growls with its sharp teeth revealed, some smashed thanks to august's work. it's not enough to deter its single thought of consumption. ]
[It’s down, it’s fine. August leaves this room for the next and Wendy wanders a bit closer to the way he exited, still keeping an eye on the crumpled remains on the floor despite everything. Not wanting to get too close. He’ll be right back. He’s just a few feet away.
She turns her attention to the statue she’d been eyeballing before and -]
Hey August? [Wendy raises her voice, calling to him in the next room over. She approaches with careful steps.] I think I found something… [A big piece of paper, all rolled up and sticking out from a jar She grabs for it, gingerly removes it. Y’know - because places like this… they tend to have traps. Or whatever. In the movies, anyway. Why not extend the logic here?
She looks away from the open doorway entirely for the moment, busying herself with starting to unroll the - is this a map? Floor plan? Blueprints? She squints at the page, tilting it a few directions as more of the design is revealed to her.
And that’s when she realizes her mistake. Their mistake. The thing that was left for dead on the floor - it’s not on the floor anymore. The pool of blood is still there and it’s trailed through it, fresh footprints making a bee-line straight for her.]
AUGUST!!
[She screams and there’s a smashing noise as Wendy uses all her strength she didn’t know she had to push the statue down to the floor - anything to delay the second-time-reanimated corpse from reaching her. The statue is huge, much bigger than her - and heavier. She struggles with her first few attempts, gets frustrated and curses under her breath, but ultimately succeeds in tipping it over.
Why did it get back up? How did it get back up? Remove the head or destroy the brain and that’s it. No more zombie. That’s how it usually works, right? That’s how it’s always been. Unless - man-made. What she entertained before. Something involving a virus. That probably did this to this poor person.
Wendy’s head whips around, eyes desperately scanning for anything that could be used as a weapon as she backs away from danger. Key in pocket - that’s nothing. Map or blueprint currently crumpled in her stressed out, iron-clad grip - also nothing (but potentially something in terms of helping their escape… if… that… happens at this point in time). The table’s way over there - useless. Statue already smashed. She’s going to feel sore after that muscle strain.
Does she start running? She’s gonna start running. And try not to cry. This is bad.]
Edited (we love the edits baybee) 2023-07-31 17:34 (UTC)
the reason august isolates himself for twenty years is the guilt that plagues him up to this day. the guilt that reminds him each and everyday that it's his fault that kit siang is dead, yet also the same one that pushes him back onto his feet so that nathaniel doesn't become anything like he is: a person whose career brings him to ruin.
it's also the reason why panic — familiar, that feeling — sets in as he races back into the gallery room by the time wendy screams. august's heart races as he sees the culprit: a headless zombie. how the blood hell is that thing still alive? didn't he finish it like the rest? what mistake did he make again? leaving wendy alone... perhaps that's the mistake. just like leaving his brother-in-law alone because august is selfish.
the adrenaline and panic take over and combine themselves into pure aggression; august gets in between wendy and the zombie with a swift kick following towards his chest, which is strong enough to slam it against the wall. from there he pulls out the two daggers he collects during their journey and throws it towards its shoulders, pinning the creature against the wall. as it screams, august deflects sharp claws with his smg before shooting it.
forget not using guns when people under his protection are in trouble. again. the clip empties once, he reloads, and shoots the monster down until it's nothing left but meat and blood. by the time the second clip ends, all he can do is breathe in and out so harshly until he can try and relax himself.
it fails by the time he returns the weapon to its holster, and he's only halfway there by the time he looks back towards wendy with both hands on her shoulders. ]
[It lunges at Wendy and she nearly dodges the attack - but it grabs at the back of her borrowed coat with inhumanly strong grip. She yelps as she’s pulled back, her feet slipping beneath her. She tries throwing her weight all around to break herself loose. All the movement, all the struggling. She even considers trying to slip the coat off her arms and run, but the monster is too strong and her efforts are ultimately wasted. Growling with frustration, she tries even harder than before. There’s a tearing sound and -
Wendy hits the floor, the map dropping from her grip and bouncing a few times on the marble before rolling away. There’s a sob of relief from her as she pushes up from the floor with her arms, rushing to pick herself up and go. But she ends up crawling instead. Her leg drags behind her, and it hurts to try and put pressure on her foot to stand. It doesn’t feel like a break - that much she can assume - but her ankle isn’t in good shape. She’s hissing between her teeth with discomfort, exasperated, chest heaving, utterly panicked. Not wanting to give up on her escape the slightest bit.
The creature is quick, but August is quicker. Wendy exhales the breath she didn’t know she was holding hostage once she sees him charge between her and the monster from over her shoulder. Visibly relaxes, but only for the briefest moment before she topples over and curls into a ball on her side. Arms over her head to hide her face, his torn coat much too big on her frame.
It’s scary. She’s scared. But he’s got it, right? He does things like this all the time. He’s a fighter. Removed from the action - that’s where she belongs. Getting too close, being stuck in the middle - it triggers something in her she can’t even begin to handle. A code black that wasn’t supposed to happen. Everything she knew gone in less than ten minutes. Trials are different because it’s a guarantee that nothing will go wrong for her. Everything else is a gamble. Why did she think she could get away with being so careless? They shouldn’t be here.
Her hands shift to cover her ears at the sounds of the zombie’s horrible screams and rapid fire, fingers trembling and catching in her hair. She doesn’t dare look up, even after the commotion is quieted. Focuses on her breathing instead, trying to lower her heart rate. Her chest feels tight, like the organ is bound to burst through at any moment. She stays like this until she hears him speak.]
I’m f-fine. [Wendy shakes her head - no, it didn’t hurt her. She just wiped out, tripping over her own feet. Ankle is probably sprained. Does she bother mentioning it? She doesn’t want to be a burden…
When she sits up, it’s slow and careful. Her eyes are red, some tear stains on her cheeks. But she throws her arms around his shoulders and practically pulls him down to the floor. No words, just the strongest hug she can muster.]
[ it's awkward, the way that he ends up stumbling down onto the floor and flat on his rear. it doesn't stop august's immediate worry upon hearing the sound of her voice — the way her face looks that brings a certain uneasiness in his chest. the worry about her death is gone, only to be replaced with the worry about her well being. he's witnessed tears of fury in the field of battle when he was a young lad in the thunderdome, and tears of sadness in his own estate.
all it takes is one look and he can see the fear and anxiety written not just on her face, but everywhere. the way the tears flow down her cheeks, and her hold on him that's practically a vice grip. it's instinct that kicks in when he immediately wraps his arms around her small frame. it's instinct that makes him raise a hand and rest on the back of her head, stroking it with a certain amount of tenderness. it's also instinct that has him whisper: ]
I'm here. There's nothing to fear anymore so long as I'm around.
[ august lets wendy bring everything out so long as they're on the floor without trouble. however long she needs, he stays right beside her. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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[ his arms are still extended, ready to catch her anytime. his brow raises as there's the slightest shrug of his shoulders as though he's saying the decision he makes is the right one. therefore, he waits. ]
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[She mumbles that last part, quickly looking away from him while doing so. As if it weren’t obvious already.
She doesn’t move, just crosses her arms over her chest. A silent protest.
Until it seems like the silence awkwardly goes on for way too long (it doesn’t) and she takes a few more baby steps towards the edge and him.
She hates this. This is dumb. But she’s actually nervous - no thanks to this entire situation they’ve found themselves stuck in.
The look of utter disdain on her face should speak volumes. But she does what he insists and finally jumps and he better fucking catch her or else.]
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his thoughts immediately disappear upon contact when he catches her with strong arms because there's a slight stumble with his footing to make sure she lands with as much comfort as he can give her. what he doesn't do, however, is place her on the ground immediately.
the way he notices too late that their faces are so close, how he holds onto her tight to make sure she doesn't accidentally slip while he carries her like a princess, the magnetism that draws him to her face that lasts for a few seconds before he finally lets her feet hit the floor. ]
There. Not so bad when you have me around, yes?
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He’s really close. She doesn’t move, doesn’t say a word, just smiles a little, then looks away after catching herself looking into his eyes for a bit. It’s quiet save for the thudding of her heart. She’s probably breathing too loud? Seems that way. Dizzy. Her arms remain around his neck until she feels herself shift and her feet touch the floor. And then she can finally breathe.]
Not bad at all. [A shaky little laugh.] Nice catch.
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[ even when, back in the day, he was a rather selfish man who went forward without thinking of others. the consequences of his actions is what makes him the man today. sometimes he becomes greedy again but remembers to keep his team in mind more often — how he has to be more patient and wait. it results in his squad living longer despite a target getting away with a sliver of their life left.
this applies to wendy, his new found patience. ]
Shall we continue then? I believe I saw two more doors back in the first hallway.
[ to which he guides her back to the first door that leads back to the two dead bodies. she has the key and there are other places they have yet to check. by the time he steps inside however a new zombie shows up from the opposite side of the hall. quickly dispatching it with the whistler, he pockets his smart gun before it hits the ground. ]
The key, please.
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She nods and follows him back to the hallway and her hand ends up gripping onto his shirt along the way. She doesn’t want to hold him back or trip him up, but she wants the contact. It helps her feel better, a bit more at ease despite the heavy atmosphere.
The dead bodies are still there - that’s a plus, right? They haven’t moved. No reanimation there. But there’s also a new friend and she takes a step back from August to let him do his thing. He makes it look so easy.
Her hand slips into her pocket and she pulls the key out for him, holding it out in her palm.]
It better work… [Yeah it still sounds like it’s storming outside, but the longer she stays here the worse she feels - present company aside.]
warning lower the volume
Not for this one. [ he says, and then heads for the next door. key in, turn impossible. ] And neither for this...
[ glancing at the key, he heads down the hall opposite of where they initially go. the key spins between his fingers as they turn a corner. no surprise to attack them with undead hands and teeth like the first, but he does spot a locked elevator shaft with no elevator. from there he goes down a small staircase only lit by one bulb, the end being another door. august checks the handle and it's locked, and when he tries the key it's not successful. ]
Perhaps this is meant for something else entirely. I noticed certain symbols like armor and swords on the door... this has armor on it, but it doesn't open. Curiouser and curiouser...
[ this is the part where he hands the key back to wendy. ]
We might have to check the otherside of the mansion.
what if i don’t tho
Is everything in this place locked? How are we supposed to find more keys if we can’t get anywhere to look.
[Her arms end up crossing over her chest. She’s dried off for the most part but the mere idea of being stuck in such a place gives her the chills.]
So matching the symbols doesn’t do anything. Unless that doesn’t matter at all and it’s just a red herring entirely… [When she reaches out to take the key back, their fingers brush. Accidental. Time and a place. Not here, not now. The key goes back into her pocket.]
I’m trying to remember if anyone from S.T.A.R.S. had anything pertinent in their files. Nothing comes to mind.
but ur ears??
[ august remembers the hierarchy she tells him before. how she needs to stay on top of things least chaos occurs. whoever her bosses are must have access to it, right? or if not her immediate superior it may be the next. what depths and details do they have within the eldritch being's lair? his thoughts are erased the moment their fingers come in contact for the briefest moment — she's soft even with the smallest touch. ]
I'd shoot it open if it didn't draw attention — well, aside from when I already used it. Best to keep things quiet from now on, yes?
[ he makes a small hand gesture as if to say follow him back up. they're going to the opposite wing of the mansion. ]
no :)
Could do that. [Her head moves from side to side, like she’s mentally weighing the options here.] Could just keep shooting things open. Both work…
[Wait! She scurries after him, grabbing hold of his hand in a rather bold move to get him to wait up for her.]
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If it's any of the usual, I'll just rip their head off. Simple.
[ which requires letting go of her, but for now he allows it as they venture back to the main hall. ]
Tell me about these S.T.A.R.S. fellows. Sounds like you've studied them before.
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Simple for you maybe. [There’s a pointed nod from her, and her tone is playful. She’s smiling a bit more.]
Uh - don’t know much. Gonna go out on a limb and say this particular spot is for them. That’s how it is here - every location has a purpose. They’re linked to people’s memories. A personal sort of purgatory maybe? [Oh - that realization hits different right now.
Moving on.]
I’m going to assume these zombies are manmade? I remember something about viruses. Those are always fun.
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[ definitely hell over purgatory especially with no way to escape. there's the campfire he's told about for survivors and killers — most of them — have their own place. he's seen creatures from the unknown crawl around while he keeps himself silent and men with large swords on the hunt. always the viewer and never the encounter. sometimes he's tempted to for a challenge but this isn't the arenas. this is for survival. ]
Haven't seen any of mine dancing around. I suppose I'm lucky to be in the position I'm in, hm?
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I’d say this place counts as both? It’s literal hell and you don’t know where you’re going to end up. If you manage to get anywhere at all.
[Okay so it’s a grim topic of discussion - but they’re definitely holding hands during it. Neither of them are looking to pull away either. This is an odd development, but Wendy’s strangely okay with it. This place is scary and she’s spooked. Justification.]
Actually - I’d say you’re lucky. She’s choosing not to use your past against you. And that’s good. I wish I could say the same for myself.
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— you've seen places rooted from your memories? [ whatever horrors she's dealt with, physically and psychologically, he assumes. ] Unfortunate. I thought someone of your position would be immune to your lord's powers and whatnot, being able to navigate through all the fog and all.
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The irony of my new career path isn’t lost on me. I bet she thinks she’s being real funny. [Putting her in such a position that would atrophy her brain into absolute uselessness the more time goes on.]
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Oh, yes. Though it has its own blood games after all, I'd imagine it enjoy variety unless it's truly an animal in mind and heart.
[ it's smart to force survivors to do this and that in trials though, isn't it?
at this point they're in the main lobby, heading to the opposite end of the hall. ]
Better your line of work over joining the unlucky ones, yes?
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Here… forget it. It’s just a prison.]
I’m grateful it’s not me. [A slight nod.] I’ve seen so many of these trials at this point you’d think it wouldn’t get to me. It’s rare, but - sometimes they do.
[At least that means she’s still human.]
Should we check more doors?
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[ he does, however, give wendy's hand another squeeze as they begin their walk. to imagine wendy on one of those disgusting rusty hooks until she's taken... he forces his imagination to stop least it gets worse and he doesn't want it to get worse. it's the reason why he doesn't let go of her hand until hearing a familiar groan when they enter the next room.
letting go of her hand, he makes a hand gesture as if to say stay here. the room they enter has a statue, a few paintings, a stepping ladder, a closed door, and a heavy looking console table blocking an open doorway with curtains. it's not long until another zombie makes itself known, trying to climb over the table. it's quick and easy to deal with the problem when all august has to do is slam its skull against the table until it's nothing but blood and flesh and bone.
he shakes the blood off his glove, unable to notice what looks like a rolled up piece of paper hanging in the jar the state holds. ]
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Wendy has no dossier on August, only knows the barest of minimums about the man, but as far as she’s concerned - he wouldn’t deserve to be stuck in the endless cycle of cat-and-mouse torture games either. Not after all the selfless kindness he’s shown towards her in the short time they’ve known each other.
She doesn’t even notice he was still holding her hand until it’s gone. Its absence is palatable. Worry on her face, she looks to him and nods in understanding. Her fingers flex, and she’s wringing her hands out of nerves as she stays behind.
She does take a step or two. They’re just hesitant ones. She wants to listen but doesn’t want to leave him alone. As long as he’s in her sight…
Her attention goes towards the layout of the room, the items inside with them. Up until he’s disposing of another zombie - this time with his hands instead of firearms. She doesn’t want to look - not at first - and simply turns her head, choosing to stare at the nearby statue, the paintings on the walls, back to the statue. The sounds are bad enough on their own. She does sneak a glance before the thing drops to the floor, brain utterly destroyed. And she makes a face, borderline disgusted.
Going to be obedient and stay put until told otherwise, still surveying their surroundings with occasional glances around.]
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he pushes the table to the side and walks over the body. another room... now that there's no problem he heads in first just in case there's trouble. fortunately there's nothing inside, and all he finds is another dagger that he grabs hold. now, because he's deep inside the room, august doesn't hear the rise of the deceased returning back onto its feed with its flesh scarred and bleeding, its nails long and sharpened — one of the fastest after its second death. if only he knew that these particular brand of zombies have a third chance at life, where it's faster and hungrier and has its lack of sights on wendy.
it runs right at her, hands forward and claws sharp in attempt to swipe. steam escapes through its orifices as it releases out monstrous growls with its sharp teeth revealed, some smashed thanks to august's work. it's not enough to deter its single thought of consumption. ]
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She turns her attention to the statue she’d been eyeballing before and -]
Hey August? [Wendy raises her voice, calling to him in the next room over. She approaches with careful steps.] I think I found something… [A big piece of paper, all rolled up and sticking out from a jar She grabs for it, gingerly removes it. Y’know - because places like this… they tend to have traps. Or whatever. In the movies, anyway. Why not extend the logic here?
She looks away from the open doorway entirely for the moment, busying herself with starting to unroll the - is this a map? Floor plan? Blueprints? She squints at the page, tilting it a few directions as more of the design is revealed to her.
And that’s when she realizes her mistake. Their mistake. The thing that was left for dead on the floor - it’s not on the floor anymore. The pool of blood is still there and it’s trailed through it, fresh footprints making a bee-line straight for her.]
AUGUST!!
[She screams and there’s a smashing noise as Wendy uses all her strength she didn’t know she had to push the statue down to the floor - anything to delay the second-time-reanimated corpse from reaching her. The statue is huge, much bigger than her - and heavier. She struggles with her first few attempts, gets frustrated and curses under her breath, but ultimately succeeds in tipping it over.
Why did it get back up? How did it get back up? Remove the head or destroy the brain and that’s it. No more zombie. That’s how it usually works, right? That’s how it’s always been. Unless - man-made. What she entertained before. Something involving a virus. That probably did this to this poor person.
Wendy’s head whips around, eyes desperately scanning for anything that could be used as a weapon as she backs away from danger. Key in pocket - that’s nothing. Map or blueprint currently crumpled in her stressed out, iron-clad grip - also nothing (but potentially something in terms of helping their escape… if… that… happens at this point in time). The table’s way over there - useless. Statue already smashed. She’s going to feel sore after that muscle strain.
Does she start running? She’s gonna start running. And try not to cry. This is bad.]
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the reason august isolates himself for twenty years is the guilt that plagues him up to this day. the guilt that reminds him each and everyday that it's his fault that kit siang is dead, yet also the same one that pushes him back onto his feet so that nathaniel doesn't become anything like he is: a person whose career brings him to ruin.
it's also the reason why panic — familiar, that feeling — sets in as he races back into the gallery room by the time wendy screams. august's heart races as he sees the culprit: a headless zombie. how the blood hell is that thing still alive? didn't he finish it like the rest? what mistake did he make again? leaving wendy alone... perhaps that's the mistake. just like leaving his brother-in-law alone because august is selfish.
the adrenaline and panic take over and combine themselves into pure aggression; august gets in between wendy and the zombie with a swift kick following towards his chest, which is strong enough to slam it against the wall. from there he pulls out the two daggers he collects during their journey and throws it towards its shoulders, pinning the creature against the wall. as it screams, august deflects sharp claws with his smg before shooting it.
forget not using guns when people under his protection are in trouble. again. the clip empties once, he reloads, and shoots the monster down until it's nothing left but meat and blood. by the time the second clip ends, all he can do is breathe in and out so harshly until he can try and relax himself.
it fails by the time he returns the weapon to its holster, and he's only halfway there by the time he looks back towards wendy with both hands on her shoulders. ]
Are you all right? Did that thing hurt you?
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Wendy hits the floor, the map dropping from her grip and bouncing a few times on the marble before rolling away. There’s a sob of relief from her as she pushes up from the floor with her arms, rushing to pick herself up and go. But she ends up crawling instead. Her leg drags behind her, and it hurts to try and put pressure on her foot to stand. It doesn’t feel like a break - that much she can assume - but her ankle isn’t in good shape. She’s hissing between her teeth with discomfort, exasperated, chest heaving, utterly panicked. Not wanting to give up on her escape the slightest bit.
The creature is quick, but August is quicker. Wendy exhales the breath she didn’t know she was holding hostage once she sees him charge between her and the monster from over her shoulder. Visibly relaxes, but only for the briefest moment before she topples over and curls into a ball on her side. Arms over her head to hide her face, his torn coat much too big on her frame.
It’s scary. She’s scared. But he’s got it, right? He does things like this all the time. He’s a fighter. Removed from the action - that’s where she belongs. Getting too close, being stuck in the middle - it triggers something in her she can’t even begin to handle. A code black that wasn’t supposed to happen. Everything she knew gone in less than ten minutes. Trials are different because it’s a guarantee that nothing will go wrong for her. Everything else is a gamble. Why did she think she could get away with being so careless? They shouldn’t be here.
Her hands shift to cover her ears at the sounds of the zombie’s horrible screams and rapid fire, fingers trembling and catching in her hair. She doesn’t dare look up, even after the commotion is quieted. Focuses on her breathing instead, trying to lower her heart rate. Her chest feels tight, like the organ is bound to burst through at any moment. She stays like this until she hears him speak.]
I’m f-fine. [Wendy shakes her head - no, it didn’t hurt her. She just wiped out, tripping over her own feet. Ankle is probably sprained. Does she bother mentioning it? She doesn’t want to be a burden…
When she sits up, it’s slow and careful. Her eyes are red, some tear stains on her cheeks. But she throws her arms around his shoulders and practically pulls him down to the floor. No words, just the strongest hug she can muster.]
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all it takes is one look and he can see the fear and anxiety written not just on her face, but everywhere. the way the tears flow down her cheeks, and her hold on him that's practically a vice grip. it's instinct that kicks in when he immediately wraps his arms around her small frame. it's instinct that makes him raise a hand and rest on the back of her head, stroking it with a certain amount of tenderness. it's also instinct that has him whisper: ]
I'm here. There's nothing to fear anymore so long as I'm around.
[ august lets wendy bring everything out so long as they're on the floor without trouble. however long she needs, he stays right beside her. ]
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supposed to sleep now but
u sneak
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