(no subject)

[shruggy]

[Look, I know I'm not exactly the most eloquent, active guy you play. That doesn't mean I'm going to wind up fading away or whatever it is dead people do when they disappear from a player's brain.]

Nnn... nuh. Not hhh... ghhoing anywhere.

Comments

[maplevalleytrickster]

You tell 'em, shuffles.

[shruggy]

[You know, that was kinda funny, in a dickish way. R would have given you a polite chuckle about it, if it wasn't for the fact that his body is presently not doing very well in the articulating micro-emotions field.

So hey, hope you don't mind the dead-eyed nod-and stare, John.]

[maplevalleytrickster]

[That's what he's good for, being a humorous bag of dicks. Don't mind him R, it's just how he does.]

[shruggy]

[Yeah, he's still just staring. And he knows he's staring. Oh my god, you're the king of awkward social interaction. He breaks eye contact after a long time and looks... uh. At the floor. Yeah. Good place for your line of sight. The floor doesn't mind getting stared at blankly for hours at a time!]

Hhhh. hh...hhHope.

[He furrows his brow as he attempts a harder letter to enunciate.]

Hope nnnnto be rr...rrreg-regular. In rhhotation.

[Look at him go! A full sentence. He gets a mental gold star. He just hopes that it made sense. He doesn't want to fall by the wayside, and actually have a chance to interact with people a little less, you know. Rotting?]

[maplevalleytrickster]

Well yeah, that's really all any of us can really do when we get moved into a mental niche, no matter how permanent we might seem at first.

_{[Have a slightly more lively shrug than your average. He's mentally applauding R's effort when it comes to speaking after one's vocal cords are out of commission for an extended period.]}

[shuttityup]

Certainly not in a hurry.

[At least this is one monster the Doctor can outrun. That's always a comfort.]

[shruggy]

[Hello, Doctor. Have a huff and a nod of amusement. Or is it exasperation? Well, whatever, R's not exactly the best at doing the emotive thing. But he puts his hand up and gestures vaguely.]

Cannn... nnn. Rrr-run.

[Okay, so he can shuffle a little faster than average. Check this out, though, he's got a joke for this one.]

Zz... zz-zoom-bie.

[delioncourt]

(He wrinkles his nose. That smell; he knows it well.)

Why are you out of your grave?

[shruggy]

[There's a pewter set of unblinking eyes now fixed on the newcomer. The effervescence of life isn't able to be sensed on him, and R is momentarily baffled, before he intuits that this is one of the other undead, even though it's obvious just by looking at him that this guy is no zombie; he's got far too much color to him.

R shrugs. He hasn't had a grave, at least to his memory. Then again, he doesn't have the greatest memory of things so far back. It's been a while since he'd died.]

Nuh... No grave.
Too mmm... mmuh.

[Give him a second, Lestat. It takes a minute for him to push the words through the cobwebs and stagnation from his brain to his mouth.]

Mmobile. For that.

[delioncourt]

Keep trying. (He has all the time in the world and R is a phenomena. Not a Vampire - yet undead, moving and speaking. What Dark powers lie in this creation?) I could see that being a problem.

(His comment is made in the same vein as someone saying "the weather could be bad".)

Coffins are made for sleeping... Resting. Do you ever require it?

[shruggy]

[At least this guy doesn't seem too caught up by impatience to roll his eyes when R can't articulate. The question, though, gains Lestat a slow shake of his head and a long, thoughtful groan as R prepares to speak again.]

Nn..nnno sleep. Hnnn wish... could.

[He motions up to his temple with a stiff hand, still staring at the other dead man.]

Dreams. Mmmuh. Mmmiss. Miss them.

[delioncourt]

Dreams are for the living, my friend. (He claps R on the shoulder, smiling.) You will become accustomed to your new existence. It takes time.

(This is akin to the process of creating a fledgling. Just...less interesting.

And smellier.)

What do you require for sustenance?

[wouldntbprudent]

Dude, how much have you had to drink?

[This is a valid question, as far as she's concerned, because he looks more than a little like her sister Zillah when she's been on a bender, the kind that Prue usually gets dragged along on for company.]

[shruggy]

[He thinks about the question for a solid ten seconds before tilting his head.]

Nuh... none?

[wouldntbprudent]

[Have some puzzled blinking]

Wait, seriously? Because dude, you look like you've been on a week-long bender.

[shruggy]

[Well, it's certainly better to be told that than 'wow buddy, you're falling apart'. He takes it as a compliment, but decides to explain his pallid complexion and the way that he seemed wasted.]

Dead.

[wouldntbprudent]

Ohhh, yeah, that happened to me once.

[A shrug]

Got better.

[ognesperanza]

[well hello Mr. Eloquent Zombie, have a fourteen-year-old Son of Hades over here. he raises his eyebrows because WOW another talking zombie!!]

Not if you don't want to, that's for sure. [violence helps, and zombies are pretty good at that]

When did you remember how to talk?

[shruggy]

Nuh... nnnever ffforgot.

[R shrugs slowly. He couldn't just let communication fall by the wayside, even if the vast majority of his companions aren't the best conversationalists.]

You. Ssssmell... different.

[ognesperanza]

Huh.

[well, that's different. it takes a while for the dead to forget, but most of them do, depending on where they end up in the Underworld. oh wait, the guy said something else, didn't he?]

Uh, yeah, I hear that a lot. I'm a demigod. Son of Hades, the Lord of the Dead.

[shruggy]

[Demigod. Cool. And it doesn't even surprise him that the first encounter with someone approaching godliness in this wandering sepulcher existence would be the son of Hades. Honestly, it just makes sense. He bows his head momentarily with a grunt of respect, since he figures it's only polite.]

Nuh...nice to... Meet you.

[shoulda_toined]

Dey shore-y don't make zombies like dey used ta.

(Beat.)

I don't suppose you can dance, can ya?

(Because according to Bugs logic, all zombies should be able to dance. If Thriller isn't how the world works, then he doesn't want to live in that world.)

[shruggy]

[Holy shit, it's Bugs Bunny. Yeah, sorry Bugs, baby, R is stuck staring, but at least he shakes his head by way of an answer to the dancing question. If you give him a couple minutes to stop being excited about talking to Bugs fucking Bunny, he might even be able to be tell you why!]

Nnnn. Two... Left feet.

Hhhhffffiguratively.

[Shrug.]

[shoulda_toined]

(Shakes head.)

Dere ain't no justice in da woild, I tell ya.

[shruggy]

[Another shrug. R wants to assume that he wasn't exactly the dancing type in life, but he can't say that for sure. He might have been, actually, but it isn't like he can get his body to work the way he wants it to in even the most elementary things like walking or holding things, much less pull off a simple two step. Kinda sucks for him, now that he thinks about it.

He knows enough Dead to pull off a killer Thriller redo, if he could get them all to be coordinated enough.

See, that's the problem with the reality of this crap: these cool ideas can't be employed.

Yeah, R's kind of spaced out for a moment, but he's back to paying attention to Bugs again.]

I... Still... Eat... Brains? Ssstill. Shuffle.

Grunt. Like a pro.

[Hey, you know, take comfort in the little ironies and cliches! They're a consolation prize, yeah, but it's better than winding up being some horrible mutation on par with that one movie franchise R can't remember the name of, or completely mindless, like that one show R can't say he'd ever watched.]