Amurehna

Oh my god I haven't updated in a while. You know what, I'm just gonna post this. I don't feel like adding my fragments.

05/30/2013 Daryl Dixon, Mocking a Moron, Ghost-Vampire-Zombies

Fighting Zombies: Part 1
I'm carrying a sawed off shotgun. I am, of course, out of ammunition. I'm in the kitchen of a run down farm house, by the sliding glass door. I hear movement outside. The back yard is a huge expanse of green grass, butted up against and overgrown field. A woman stands beside a faded white picnic table.
I run outside. I can't decide if I should draw on her or not. After all, she doesn't know my gun isn't loaded. I settle for a potentially aggressive position, the gun half raised.
I'm about to ask her what she's doing out here when she says, "There are zombies out here. Did you know there are zombies out here?!"
I open my mouth to say something sarcastic, but a zombie lumbers out of nowhere and opens his arms to bear hug her. I cry out a warning. The girl twists around and neatly stabs the zombie in the guts, doing absolutely no damage.
I roll my eyes. "Aim for the head!"
"What?" She asks, stupidly.
"Stab. it. in. the. brain."
"Oh...right."
"Riiiight." I say with a sarcastic nod.
Another zombie bends between the wires of the fence of the field and comes at me while she's still struggling with her opponent. I think a few unkind thoughts in her direction and realize that I shouldn't belittle her intelligence...after all, which one of us is the moron running around during a zombie apocalypse carrying an empty gun?

There's an unrelated interlude. I'm pretty sure I'm in Rapture from Bioshock, but I only notice the similarities once I woke up. I'm approaching a class room. There's a well-dressed pompous jerk criticizing everyone's writing skills and proclaiming that he alone has the finesse to properly write a short story, I have every intention of verbally ripping his face off, remembering that I've read his short story and every single word in it was spelled wrong. He even made up some words. Like 'richutoushely'.
A friend of mine, Laura, gets my attention.
There's a lapse. She joyfully skips to the elevator at the end of the hall. I'm telling her about Pompous Ass. Or there's a voice over where I"m telling her about him. She purposely puts herself beside him in the elevator and does her best to make him feel ashamed for being a jerk. When that doesn't work, she makes fun of his short story.
I remember hearing her amused disbelief that such a person exists.
Then I'm in an office. There are two young men watching me as I sit down at a desk to write. I set down for lines of poetry, all using a common word to link them together. When I look over it, I laugh. I spelled the common word differently at each occurrence.
"Look at me, making fun of a guy who can't spell, and then I sit here and can't spell a word like 'pearl'." I laugh at myself again and then wonder aloud. "What's pearl-fire anyway?"

Later I'm telling Laura about how I can't spell.
"Poetry, Julie? Really?"
"Whaaat, I was writing what's-his-face a letter and I was writing the poem to make fun of him!"
She gives me a look, "Suuuure." but she's smiling.
I fake-pout at her.

Fighting Walkers and Sirens with Daryl Dixon: Part 2

The first dream repeats itself, except that Daryl is with me. We exchange a glance upon hearing a noise from outside. We go out to the back yard and I raise my still empty sawed-off to threaten the moron girl exclaiming about zombies. We spread out, myself at 6 o'clock, Daryl at 3, the girl at 12. The corner of his mouth twitches as she yells about how she can't believe there are real zombies out here. We're stupidly distracted by our subtle amusement.
A zombie lumbers out of nowhere and opens his arms wide to bear hug her. I cry out a warning and she stabs him. Daryl tells her to aim for the head. He is, surprisingly, without his crossbow. He only has a hunting knife.
"We never found ammo." I say.
"I think I saw an ammo pouch on the shelf behind the desk?"
I run inside while Daryl is preoccupied with two walkers that have come into the backyard from the field. Out of the corner of my eye I see stab the walker in the head that's attacking the girl, and then lead the other three in a circle around the picnic table. I scan the shelf behind the desk and see a faded leather pouch. I look inside and only see gunpowder. It doesn't occur to me until I've poured it into my gun that it's not going to do me any good. Well, it'll serve as a distraction. I head back outside and yell.
One of the walkers breaks off and heads toward me. I shoot at it. I see the find gunpowder permeate the air, doing...of course, absolutely nothing to my opponent. Daryl has dispatched his already, and when he circles around the picnic table scoops a heavy, splintered table leg from the long grass. He casually hits the walker twice, obliterating its skull and breaking the table leg in half.
"Come on, we don't have much time." He brushes past me into the house. I discard my gun and cast about for something useful.
I grab a log, a large wooden stake, and a shard of wood that's kind of knife shaped.
I have a moment where I wonder why I'm grabbing pointy objects...it's not like I'm hunting vampires.
....right?

The rest of our people are trapped upstairs. We are not the only ones who were drawn to this place. The foyer is sort of octagonal. It's all dark, the windows are boarded up. Shafts of light slant through the gaps. Daryl is quicker than I am, there's an extremely pale woman who has long brown hair with black streaks and golden eyes, wearing all leather. She lunges at him, he has her pinned, I round the corner as her hunting partner (an extremely pale bald man with a peeling scalp and silver eyes) is creeping up on Daryl. I smack him as hard as I can with the log.
We all exchange tense glances. The bald man bares his teeth and growls.
Urgency is pressing us into action. Daryl releases the woman and she scrambles up the stairs on all fours. Daryl follows, the bald man goes after him, and I go up last. The stairs are steep, we climb them just like the golden-eyed woman did, on all fours. We reach a landing near the top and the woman stops abruptly. She has heard something we can't.
Daryl narrows his eyes at her.
"Sirens, up ahead." she says, then after a moment of hesitation adds, "And at least three Shamblers in the rooms beyond."
Daryl scouts up the remaining stairs and then creeps back down. "There's at least one sleeping a couple of paces from the last stair." He gives the woman a stiff nod, not wanting to admit that she's done us a favor.
The bald man says, "And where there is one siren..."
"...her sisters soon will follow." Daryl supplies reluctantly.
The golden-eyed woman briefly looks me in the eye. I have dropped my 'weapons'. The bald man tries to steal one. I bare my teeth at him and he sets it back down, grinning a little.
"Your little nightcat has teeth." the bald man says.
Daryl looks a little amused.
The woman intentionally forgets a quiver of arrows blue-green-black fletching. I scoop it up.

The next part is kind of confusing. We go upstairs. There's what's called a siren hovering vertically, a few inches off the ground. She is tall with light purple skin, black hair and pointed ears. Daryl circles around behind her, reaches up and throws a hand across her mouth, an arm across her shoulders, tugging the siren roughly to the floor. Her eyes snap open. I lunge forward and drive the stake I've been carrying into her chest.
The golden-eyed woman and her companion are dealing with the walkers in the next room as quietly as possible.
There's noise from the room next to us and sounds of a scuffle. We rush in and I have randomly produced throwing knives. There's another siren, screeching her blackened little heart out. Whip-quick, I draw and throw three knives, one after the other. The first sticks in her abdomen, the third in her chest, the last grazes her cheek.
Daryl has retrieved his crossbow. He shoots an arrow into her eye and she collapses.
"Nice throwing, why didn't you aim for her head though?"
I frown and shrug. "I don't know."
"Remember for next time, yeah?"
I nod. ((Tacking 'yeah' onto the end of a sentence is something Liam does. And 'little nightcat' is often a reference to Saja, even though I wasn't consciously her in this dream.))
After searching the rooms, we realize that the other members of our group aren't here.
"They've been taken to the bluffs, then." Daryl says something about needing to stay up here, but he hands me a longbow, telling me to take out our enemy from the overhang.
"Shouldn't you be doing this? You're a better shot than I am."
He says something about not really worrying about it because he has faith in my archery skills.
The golden-eyed woman and man slipped out while we were slaying the second siren.

There's a lapse and I'm repeating the dream again, this time Daryl is already upstairs. I'm with the golden-eyed woman and her hunting partner. We scramble up the stairs and when we noisily reach the top a siren bursts through the door, screaming. For a moment I'm worried, then Daryl appears from behind her and (quite easily) kills the hell out of her.
The room Daryl emerges from is distinctly Rapture, it is even leaking. There's water streaming down the wall and pooling on the counter before cascading to the floor. The house would be pretty if it wasn't so beat up...

Fragments 06/02/2013 to 06/09/2013
06/02/2013 Restaurants
I'm driving, trying to leave town after a tornado has hit. I'm with my brother and we're looking for a place to eat. He tells me about a French food place that's really good, so we drive there. Except it looks suspiciously like a Chinese food restaurant. There are hanging lanterns and the place is full of mirrors and blazing lights. It's really crowded too, there are people everywhere. As I'm getting out of the car I realize that I drove the entire way without my contact lenses in. I'm also realizing that I'm not wearing shoes, and that I'm keeping my contact lenses in the water in my shoes. I spend the next few minutes trying to fish them out.

06/03/2013
Walking around work singing Minnie the Moocher. My co-workers echo the chorus back to me.

06/04/2013
It is the anniversary of DV and it is tradition to recite a serious speech with a fake speech impediment. You only get one shot. Tom Levitt from Smash is sitting outside the theater which is also somehow a browser chat room, reciting a speech to Julia. He says something like "It is not only empirical, but illogical to believe that showmanship is an improper forum..." He speaks the words slowly, only just able to keep himself from cracking up, because the speech doesn't make any sense. He is so close to the end.