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[perfectsymmetry]

[Downtown, backed against a store front surrounded by zombies are two figures. One is Silence, holding his arm where he was bitten, blue blood trickling from between his fingers. The other is Crowe, who looks panicked and frightened, doing his best to shoot down the horde surrounding them. He won't be able to do it forever, he'll run out of bullets eventually. Before that happens, Crowe grabs Silence by the other arm, kicks the zombie in front of him down the an impressive force, and makes a break for it, down an alley, where Crowe will keep an eye out. he looks totally defeated.]

S-Silence, I... I'm so sorry.


Stalking through the streets now is Crowe, leading along an injured Silence by the hand. Crowe is holding out a pistol, and looks frightened, tired and panicky. Silence, most notably, is missing an arm. Crowe will stop to shoot any of the zombies that come their way in the head without hesitation, but his aim isn't the greatest right now. Crowe's trying to get him to the hospital or church, whatever he can get to first. Any other zombie fighters out there care to help? Any zombies looking for another snack?

[[OOC - replies will come from both Crowe and Silence in this post!]]

Comments

[a-gentle-boy.livejournal.com]

[Eventually, off in the distance, there echoes a sound that both Crowe and Silence may recognize. No horse's hooves had ever sounded so crisp, so clean, so perfectly... clip-clop-y. Such was the power of the surreal world that Lucas called home. Every so often, there is a dull sort of punting sound, as if a ball had just been kicked rather hard.

...The latter will be explained when a limp zombie flies around a corner, Lucas and the table chasing after to launch it into the air repeatedly.]

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[mute-mystic.livejournal.com]

[Silence follows Crowe readily, almost not needing the hand on his arm to guide him - though it helps, because currently his mind is racing. The word that keeps repeating itself in his thoughts is infection; whatever is doing this to the town, it's contagious, and it has almost certainly been passed to him. His lower arm is already tingling, almost burning in an unnatural way; he can guess what that means. And it will spread. And when it does take him...Crowe will be right next to him, won't he?

None of this is particularly comforting. But Silence has been in tight situations before, and he keeps a level head. There are two options - one is to kill himself now, before he turns, though whether he's killed before or after he turns makes little difference so long as Crowe is prepared to deal with him infected. And, judging by the apology the boy has given him...yes, he knows what could happen.

The other, slightly more practical option is to attempt to rid himself of the infection. A quick healing spell - accompanied by the soft glow of starlight bathing the alley - heals the bite on his arm, but does nothing for the burning in his flesh; that's not enough, then. He can think of only one other way to keep it from spreading, and it seems logically preferable to any other possibility right now.

He unties the red bow he usually wears around his neck, quick fingers working to tie it tightly just above his elbow in a makeshift tourniquet. Having decided on his course of action, there's no hesitation in his thoughts or movements - only intense focus. Mystics are often far more dispassionate than humans are, even the nicest ones, and in this at least Silence is no exception. At one point he glances to Crowe, wordlessly asking for assistance in securing the ribbon.]