(no subject)

[subconmodo]

A

On the outskirts of the quarantine zone, smack dab in the middle of what was once the richer part of the abandoned town, one building stands out. Though it had been one of the older buildings in the area, its former owners had always taken care to make sure it was in tip top condition. Pristine. Beautiful.

Now the lawn is overgrown, strange weeds and unnatural flowers peeking up from the tall grass. Dark, thorny ivy crawls up the side of the house and around the once splendid stone pillars. Even the inside looks like its decaying, with the dust off pollen past covering most surfaces and what appears to be mushrooms of all things poking out from the wallpaper.

And in the middle of it all, draped sullenly on a beaten couch, pretending to watch tv, sits Avery Voigt, glowing eyes narrowed.

"What do you want?"


B -- earlier into his transformation

He's not sure why he dragged himself out today, but he's wandering the barter market all the same. He doesn't even have anything to trade -- or at least he's pretty sure he doesn't. Not unless the bark he keeps trying to desperately peel off of his forearms counts.

"You'd think people would have the decency to pass out headache medicine for free," he grumbles.

Comments

B.

[nor_iron_bars]

Well, hey- [There's a sly, cheerful tone coming from behind him, the kind of voice you just know is about to sell you something that "fell off the back of a truck".] -think any of that bark you're peeling off is willow? You could corner the market.

[Please don't try to turn your neighbor into homemade aspirin, Jail.]

[At first glance, she looks like she's wearing a heavy feather ruff around her shoulders. At second glance, it's clear that the feathers are growing there- she has suspicions on where this is going, and has taken to wearing open-backed tank tops in case of Suddenly Wings in the future.]

Re: B.

[subconmodo]

[He stops and glances over at her, clearly unamused]

What in the world are you talking about?

[He winces, hissing in pain as he digs a little too deep. A glance down reveals a tiny trickle of oilslick blood, and he curses under his breath.]

[nor_iron_bars]

What, don'tcha know what they make aspirin out of?

[She seems like she's in a giving mood, or maybe just takes pity on him, because she saunters up and tosses him a small plastic bottle.] Here, catch.

[It proves to be some generic painkillers, the sort you'd find at a convenience store.] Little past the use-by date, but hey. So're we, right?

[Someone's taking her slow transformation into an inhuman creature with good humor, at least...]

[subconmodo]

Ha...

[Self deprecating humor. Nice. At least she had the goods on her. He rolls the bottle in his hand, listening to the pills clattering about. He's pretty sure these have been used before, but he's not about to complain about that now.

You didnt get new, shiny things here. Who'd give anything to them?]

I'm going to take a wild guess here and say this isn't free. You don't look like the type to run a charity.

[Actually, he's pretty sure he's seen her in a courtroom at least once before]

[nor_iron_bars]

[Technically, she hadn't been convicted. Sure, it was because she escaped from the courthouse out the bathroom window before her state-appointed defense lawyer could lose the case, but it sort of counts. Maybe.]

You could just owe me a favor... [She grins.] But you seem like a smart boy, so I'm guessing you don't wanna leave loose ends hanging around like that.

Got anything shiny on you?

[spelleton]

"Just checking the local recluse hasn't stopped breathing, that's all."

Ekkehardt is doing his usual rounds, though out of some kind of courtesy he always leaves Avery for last to prolong the amount of time they don't see each other.

(Their friendship is no longer what it once was. He supposes having a magical disease and being forbidden all contact will do that.)

"You're not actually watching that, are you?"

[subconmodo]

"Of course not. It's complete and utter garbage." He gestures over to a corner by way of explanation, where the remote lays cold and alone, a victim of Avery's frustration over a game show contestant's inability to guess the correct, obvious answer.

[spelleton]

"You should come outside and get some fresh air. It would probably be more entertaining than watching this." And better for him, but he's hardly going to say that to his face.

He'd frown at the shabby state of the house if his facial expression was capable of doing so. Instead, it just gets a twitch of his wings and a mildly disapproving look, warring between 'don't start another argument' and 'this is unbearable i have to say something' in his head.

"At least open a window," he says, at last.

[subconmodo]

He stares blankly at Ekkehardt and then sits up, pulling the blanket up just a little to reveal legs growing discolored, black scales -- longer than they should be, fused.

"Yeah. I'm kind of busy becoming even more of a freak of nature at the moment."

[spelleton]

Ugh. What is he supposed to say to that. Is he supposed to say anything?

His transformation had been more violent and sooner over, though he doesn't know if that was a good or bad thing. He'd spent days inside literally coughing up his own organs, for a start, and it was hard to find any kind of silver lining in an experience like that.

"Fine. I'll open a window," he replies, keeping his tone even as he goes and does just that. He doesn't know if he's stronger or weaker than he used to be, but the window is stuck and he has to work at it to get it open.

Maybe Avery will get some entertainment out of watching him struggle with it.

A

[arcadianvampire]

[It'd been weeks since he'd been dumped here too. Once a rising star in the academic circuit as a professor of history, then an outspoken advocate for the rights of the infected, Valvatorez one day ended up with the same affliction he advocated for. He did his best to remain on the outside, fighting hard, and fighting the good fight, but eventually, his mutations started manifesting. And he was no longer given a choice.

He would still raise hell from inside the quarantine, not at all lying down and taking it, even when he was absolutely miserable. And in chronic pain. But everyone else was here too. There was no excuse not to. Though it was getting worse. Every day, more pain.

He entered Avery's house, almost like he owned the place, and... mostly unbothered by all the botanical additions.]

To talk with an old friend.

[It's blunt. To the point. ...It's one of the only things you can get for free around here anymore. And misery loved company.

When Avery turned to look at Valvatorez, his condition had visibly gotten worse over the recent days. While his stature was short before his infection, the mutations actually caused him to grow, but gray and black scales started forming out of his skin... more and more of them. His eyes had turned red, and narrowed. Horrific looking demonic wings was one of his first mutations, followed by arced horns from the top of his head... though the new edition was a swinging, black scaled, barbed tail behind him. Needless to say, getting his clothes properly tailored for this was a bitch.

It was hard to tell if he was becoming more of a demon, or more of a dragon. Maybe it was both.]

[subconmodo]

[His eyebrows raise and he drags himself into a sitting position, only to let out a low whistle.]

Yikes. And here I thought I had it bad.

Uh...

[He gestures to an armchair off to the side]

Take a seat! If you don't mind a little hay fever, that is.

[Avery forces a sharp-toothed grin.

Damn. Val looks like he hurts about as much as he does.]

[arcadianvampire]

Let's not mince words, my friend. We both have it bad. And heh, to be concerned about hay fever...

[Valvatorez walks over to the armchair, and takes a long look at it. At first, one might think that he's appraising it because of all the pollen and dust and whatever the hell else is floating around. But no, it was far from anything that judgemental. His tail flicked back and forth a couple of times, while he thought.

After but a moment, Valvatorez turned around to sit down... but in the process, he flared his wings out, so as to not crush them behind his back, and he struggled to reposition his tail to drape over one of the armrests so he could somehow sit back. He still winced as he did so, feeling pressure on his back, and on the interlocking scales on some places in his body, particularly where they still met his skin.

...Even sitting down looked like a puzzle.

Still, he managed to make a dark-spirited smile, and with it, some graveyard humor.]

So, how do I look? Just the picture of a nightmarish fiend looking posh and comfortable?

[subconmodo]

[That actually manages to earn a laugh.]

Absolutely. One-hundred percent the dark, brooding tyrant lord. Like something out of one of those video games or a comic or something.

[Honestly, Avery can't help but feel a little jealous. He wishes his mutative bullshit would make him look all fancy and terrifying.

If he could only figure out a good fit for clothes...]

Gotta say... I thought I heard people saying someone matching your description ended up here. Didn't think it was actually you, though.

[Come to think of it, there was probably something on the news, too. He should probably actually start watching the news again.]

[arcadianvampire]

Yes, I can hardly wait to knock down a bunch of chosen heroes wielding some ancient legendary blade. Think of all the tinned fish I'd be able to trade it for!

[He's only half joking about the fish. Honestly, that craving for fish had only gotten more real the more his condition has progressed. Regular food still did the job, but seafood? That's what tasted best of all.]

It was, as it happened. Of course, I gave them an earful the whole damn time. All the things they've heard drilled into their head a thousand times, for all the good it did.

Still, you know how it is. Never stop raising hell until you're there. ...And then maybe try showing Satan how it's done.

B

[accidentallich]

I can afford some.

[Gershom trades his poetry. He's never something that could be described as well-off, but he has enough to buy food for the cats, at least, and he doesn't need much.

He's pretty sure that the person he trades his writing to passes it off as their own and publishes it outside the quarantine, but what does he care? Poetry alone won't feed anyone.]

[subconmodo]

What, seriously? You actually have money here? Tell me you're not pulling my leg!

[accidentallich]

[He pulls out some Legitimate Money from his pocket and holds it out. It's not much, but it should be able to afford headache medicine, at least.]

The guards are the best to sell to, if you can.

[subconmodo]

Selling... Now that's the hard part.

[Did he even have anything left to sell? Legal advice, he guesses. Maybe help with taxes?]

Who would even bring their taxes in here?

[accidentallich]

Do any of us pay taxes? ...Was I supposed to be paying taxes this whole time?

[He's been here for so long that he has no idea how much money he owes, oh no he's been a bad citizen???]

A

[unpocoloco]

It's a creepy old place, overgrown and filthy. But, it was once a nice old place and that means there might be nice stuff inside. Sure, it's a little late in the game to get into looting, but maybe there was something dangerous enough in there to keep everyone else at bay.

Everyone, except a man who's already dead.

He hops the fence (what's left of it), and sneaks to the side of the house. Climbing in through a window instead of taking the front door, just in case. So far so good. There's a smell here, foul with rot yet sweet with fresh growth. Npt a great sign for anything of value remaining but--

The voice hits his ears. Héctor stops dead (ha) in his tracks.

"...Oh. Haha. I didn't realize anyone was living here. Lo siento."

[subconmodo]

"Really? Gee, thanks." He scoffs, crosses his arms, and rolls his eyes, one long, large finger tapping irritatedly against his upper arm. "You know, just because someone enjoys a different sort of living arrangement doesn't mean you can waltz right in an assume no one's there."

He isn't sure if that's actually how he would or should explain it, even to himself. But he has attempted to clean the place up a little a few times in the past, and he never can bring himself to get rid of the encroaching plantlife. (He'd never let Ekke know, and he's even more loathe to admit it to himself, but there's a part of him that wonders if this place is a terrarium because of him.)

"Maybe next time I'm up and around, I'll find out where you live and interrupt your day."

[unpocoloco]

He glances at the overgrowth, then back at the person settled in the chair. Different living arrangement. Right.

This does turn his judgement back on him in a matter of seconds. His skeletal mouth open and closes.

"I mean, you could... but, I don't know if you'd be interrupting much..." He guesses the guy could invade his hammock... "Do you often get up and around?" It doesn't look like it.

[subconmodo]

Avery rolls over on the couch and drags himself off it onto the floor, blanket slipping away to reveal a long snake tail from the hips down, covered in black scales that catch the light in varying shades of deep purple, each and every last one shiny and new.

It takes him a moment to orient himself, tail coiling beneath him as he rises up to stand(?) straight. "I'm working on it."

[unpocoloco]

His mouth forms an O shape, finally registering the tail there. Yeah, that would do it. And he'd need a much bigger hammock.

His hands go out and draw back. Sometimes he envies some of the other changed. Sometimes he really doesn't.

"Do you, uh, want a hand? I didn't have any other plans for today, personally."