fridgetothefire | 027 ☣ some messages

[Private to Zane, Abigail, and Cassel, vaguetimed after the breach, Wednesday-ish?]

...how are you guys?

[Private to Ben, Wednesdayish]

Thank you.

[Private to Sylvanas, thursday]

[Her voice is small, nervous and tentative, though there isn't really fear in it, just uncertainty that she ought to be asking at all.]

I know we haven't spoken, much. I'm really sorry if this is - rude or painful, or anything, and you don't have to answer. I just.

You hate Arthas, right?

[Private to Mal, Friday, text, sent right before she dies]

I've decided to let Arthas make me a zombie for a few days. If all goes as planned, I will be able to resist any and all brain-eating urges. If it's messed up or he lied to me about what's going to happen, being killed will reset me to my normal self. I don't want any of the people who love me to have to do it. Could you check by Cabin 1x17 in the next few minutes and make sure I don't emerge on the warpath? If you don't want to, I'd trust Beatrix to do it too.

Thanks.

[Private to Arthas, Friday]

I'm ready. Is now good for you?

[OOC: I may add other starters to this post as older things play out/I think of them. If anyone has something they want to have brought up with Anya BEFORE she becomes a zombie, let me know and I will add it. There will probably be a separate public zombie post later.]

Threaded | Top-Level Comments Only

Yes.

[Wow don't smirk like a huge creeper she won't want to do it.

Arthas forces himself to make a serious face.]

How will you be dying? Do you care?

Edited 2013-09-27 05:50 (UTC)

[She looks a little bit - not quite nervous. Rueful, maybe. She knows intellectually that this ought to be a terrible idea, but none of the reasons not to seem as good as the reasons to. So here she is.]

I don't like suffocation. I was thinking exsanguination, unless you had something more convenient in mind. I can nick my jugular over your sink, it won't even be too messy.

[It's incredibly innovative, and Mal is only mildly surprised. It's stupid, yes, but there's probably a reason. That's what she's learned about Anya: there's usually a reason.]

On my way.

[With which she sighs and makes her way to the cabin in question five minutes later, rapping on the door with an excessively bored expression.]

I'm fine. Why wouldn't I be?

No idea yet. That was weird.

You?

Just checking in.

It was your first breach, right? Some people find it more disconcerting than others.

I'm okay, I think.

[She's not good. She is not happy with the person she was there. But she's okay.]

Edited 2013-09-27 15:23 (UTC)

You wanna do something?

[He wants to do something. Distract himself. From Chris, from trying to understand what it means to look your own soul in the eyes.]

It was.

But I'm not some people. Some people aren't used to wearing other people's faces. I just didn't decide on this one myself.

[She's going to have it ripped out of her and stuffed back in again just to see what it was like. To really know what she did to people there. She was planning to anyway, but now it feels like - almost justice. It's not as though she were ever good to Malachai anyway.]

Yeah, let's.

You want to work on your knitting, or set off bottle rockets in the CES?

I don't have a sink. Laundry room or CES?

I'll bring a bucket. It's not something I want to do in quasi-public.

Edited 2013-09-27 16:24 (UTC)

Do you know how much blood is in a human body?

Never mind. I'll figure it out.

[She was being - not actually facetious, but slightly. Her soup pot would probably do it.]

You could snap my neck as long as that wouldn't stop me from facing forward properly afterward.

[She tilts a shoulder with the question. Yes? No? Sort of?]

Edited 2013-09-27 16:59 (UTC)

No. I've raised hanged men before, it's a fairly simple fix.

Perfect. I'll be there soon.

[And she is, knocking lightly. She hits send on the message to Mal, then tucks her comm away.]

Edited 2013-09-27 18:00 (UTC)

Bottle rockets. In the mood to blow things up.

[She thought he might be.]

I'll grab some stuff. Meet you on deck?

Yeah. Sounds good.

[Arthas nods curtly to Anya in greeting when the door is opened, then steps aside to let her in. His room is freezing cold, stone-walled, and lit mostly by clusters of candles.]

[She always wears long sleeves, to hide her burn scars, so she hugs her elbows a little, but she can stand the chill for a few minutes easily enough. It's comforting, in an odd way, makes her think of the glaciers that were once a minor haven for her.]

Okay. Is there anything else I should know?

[She doesn't expect him to volunteer much of anything. She's not stalling, exactly. It just seems odd to wait to be killed without saying anything.]

Nothing that can't better be explained by showing you.

[He pulls the door shut behind them; it booms in an appropriately ominous fashion.]

Are you ready?

[It does seem odd, and he's a touch awkward but reminds himself that this is necessary.]

[She smiles, just the tiniest bit. The awkwardness is heartening, in a weird way. She drops her arms to her sides, steps into his reach.]

Probably not.

But there's no point wasting time.

Not... Good.

No.

[Arthas reaches - carefully, as if trying not to spook a deer - to put one of his gloves on top of Anya's head and the other under her chin.

He gives her a look - last chance to back out.]

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