He wasn't sleeping. Or, he doesn't think he was sleeping. Okay maybe he dozed off a little, but he'd still been working, forever and always trying to learn more than what he already knew. It kept his mind and his hands busy, and this was usually how he managed to sleep anyway - work until he passed out over his papers, or Mingyu dragged him to bed. But Mingyu was with Lee Chang that night, so Fox was alone when the alarms sounded. He jolted upright with a start, scattering pages and knicknacks that he had been collecting to test. "What the fuck--"
He staggered upright, heading towards the window to look out and see what the hell was even going on in the first place.
The farmhouse was always creepy. Even if there weren't creepy voices on the wind, the house itself was old and derelict, floorboards creaking under his step. So he was used to being cautious. What he wasn't used to was getting to the window and seeing a hoard of undead outside it. He immediately scrambled backward, but not fast enough, the old glass shattering as one of the creatures threw themselves at it, lured by the faint trace of mirror that Fox carried in his cargo pant pockets.
The first undead skewered itself on the broken glass, groaning and reaching for Fox who'd fallen to the floor, icy fingers scraping at air.
"Fuck, fuck, fuck," Fox panted, terrified, deciding in that moment that no zombie movie had ever done them justice. "Fuck-- Mingyu! Where -- Fuck--"
The second undead had managed to pull itself up over the body of the first, using it as both anchor and foothold as it climbed in the window, falling onto the floor with absolutely no care for itself, the body a mere puppet for the force of will that lay behind it. It scrambled across the floor at Fox as fast as he could shuffle backwards, finally grabbing his ankle.
"Fuck!!" He yelled as he tried slamming his foot into its skull, but without enough force to dislodge it from him. A third undead was already spilling into the room as he fought vainly for his life, hands grabbing whatever they could find (an inkwell) and throwing it at his assailant (it did nothing, inkwells barely count as improvised weapons).
He was going to die. He was going to die, and he was going to die first like the worst fucking stereotype in any horror movie he'd ever heard of.
NETWORK: OPEN (But especially for Wei Wuxian)
[ He was winded and terrified but alive (thanks arch buddy), and his voice was only a little shaky when he said over the network: ]
Okay, I -- fuck. Fuck. Okay. Um, they definitely want the mirror. I - well I have a few pieces, and they're useless, but the zombies definitely fucking want them. I have, uh, a terrible idea, if anyone is up for something really dangerous.
no subject
He wasn't sleeping. Or, he doesn't think he was sleeping. Okay maybe he dozed off a little, but he'd still been working, forever and always trying to learn more than what he already knew. It kept his mind and his hands busy, and this was usually how he managed to sleep anyway - work until he passed out over his papers, or Mingyu dragged him to bed. But Mingyu was with Lee Chang that night, so Fox was alone when the alarms sounded. He jolted upright with a start, scattering pages and knicknacks that he had been collecting to test. "What the fuck--"
He staggered upright, heading towards the window to look out and see what the hell was even going on in the first place.
The farmhouse was always creepy. Even if there weren't creepy voices on the wind, the house itself was old and derelict, floorboards creaking under his step. So he was used to being cautious. What he wasn't used to was getting to the window and seeing a hoard of undead outside it. He immediately scrambled backward, but not fast enough, the old glass shattering as one of the creatures threw themselves at it, lured by the faint trace of mirror that Fox carried in his cargo pant pockets.
The first undead skewered itself on the broken glass, groaning and reaching for Fox who'd fallen to the floor, icy fingers scraping at air.
"Fuck, fuck, fuck," Fox panted, terrified, deciding in that moment that no zombie movie had ever done them justice. "Fuck-- Mingyu! Where -- Fuck--"
The second undead had managed to pull itself up over the body of the first, using it as both anchor and foothold as it climbed in the window, falling onto the floor with absolutely no care for itself, the body a mere puppet for the force of will that lay behind it. It scrambled across the floor at Fox as fast as he could shuffle backwards, finally grabbing his ankle.
"Fuck!!" He yelled as he tried slamming his foot into its skull, but without enough force to dislodge it from him. A third undead was already spilling into the room as he fought vainly for his life, hands grabbing whatever they could find (an inkwell) and throwing it at his assailant (it did nothing, inkwells barely count as improvised weapons).
He was going to die. He was going to die, and he was going to die first like the worst fucking stereotype in any horror movie he'd ever heard of.
NETWORK: OPEN (But especially for Wei Wuxian)
[ He was winded and terrified but alive (thanks arch buddy), and his voice was only a little shaky when he said over the network: ]
Okay, I -- fuck. Fuck. Okay. Um, they definitely want the mirror. I - well I have a few pieces, and they're useless, but the zombies definitely fucking want them. I have, uh, a terrible idea, if anyone is up for something really dangerous.