Bubble.

[damage-girl.livejournal.com]

A hot bath is exactly what Corrine needed. After soaking to prunish-feel with a good book, she's wiping condensation from the mirror to comb out her hair. It's been quiet recently. Quiet is good. It's given her a lot of time to focus on herself, which is nice, and get some research done on things that still don't make sense.

Mmm. Right now, she's actually thinking about just slipping into her pajamas and flopping down in front of a good movie. There's hot chocolate to be had and she has a bag of mini-marshmallows stashed away. Yeah... that sounds perfect.

There's another sound, an actual one. She closes the cabinet mirror, then turns to make sure she's actually seeing what she thinks. It's like a super-awesome shiny disco-ball.

Yeah. Definitely report this, pron--

Comments

[damage-girl.livejournal.com]

She keeps the suspicious, waiting eye on him for a few moments. This is a situation Corrine is feeling more and more out of her element for. Maybe even this brief meeting was a bad idea.

She'd receded-- no, decided that a move to the leylines was the best idea, years ago. Her work there kept her busy, or perhaps she just became engulfed in it at some point. There was never a clear answer, and she thanks those she broke connections with that they let it be simply what it was; her work was important. She never thought she'd lose touch with who she was, but her existence with mortals feels like some far away past-life.

Caleb's presence is strangely intimidating and comforting. She sniffs apathetically. "I wasn't trying to insult you when I said that. Merely making a point. You are an incubus, but the man of you owns enough guilt that you do no harm in your affairs."

There was that time he called her a whore. Those times. Multiple. It's past. "Mostly. We have all trespassed before. Either way, I hold no conception of 'flattering myself', nor do I hold any grudges against you. I'm willing to follow your lead in whatever direction you feel suitable."

[caleb-z.livejournal.com]

Her cold response ebbs his enthusiasm somewhat, as he gets himself back into business mode. Movement catches Caleb's attention, and he catches three of them coming out of an alley.

If anything, it's really only his ego that's bruised. He's lived with the certainty that he'll never have her back for years now, all the way back to the first time he joined the Outsiders. That pain simply hasn't been as acute as in days gone by. However, it was, by no means, inconsiderable. That it never will be. "Well, right now, that would be search and destroy."

He turns towards her, though his eyes remain where the street disappears over the hill. "I don't suppose you can remotely locate the zombies, by any chance?"

[damage-girl.livejournal.com]

There's a brief strobe of light, and they're standing in a mostly walled-in loading dock. There are a few scattered in the area. Two come running from around some parked cars.

They hit the ground, but of course more are coming now. She'd forgotten how tedious motions were in the physical world.

[caleb-z.livejournal.com]

Caleb turns his back to hers, and begins eliminating zombies. Shots ring out one after another, the sound reverberating and intensifying.

“Clear,” Caleb calls, turning to see how Corrine is doing as he changes a nearly empty clip. It amazes him how cold she’s grown, though he supposes that life on the ley lines might condition one as such. Besides, beneath it all, she’s still Corrine. He recognizes it still.

What can I say? I never did know how to give up on the girl.

[damage-girl.livejournal.com]

A school teacher with a class of children that adored her.
A promising young man in a new career for architectural improvements of urban housing.
A couple, who never made it out of their wrecked car or their seat-belts.

She puts them all to silence, one by one. Methodically, mutely, without a shred of emotion or urgency. Those that come at her are promptly put down with only a second's worth of attention. She begins walking back towards Caleb when her side of the lot is clear. "Likewise."

Her eyes take a quick look around. "There seem to be less than when I started. Whatever evacuation methods were put in place seem to have adequately squashed anymore major spread. We're encountering smaller-numbered hoards." The silence seemed to be making him uncomfortable, and the work was the only convenient thing to relate. That was her closest attempt at a compliment for those who've been putting in their efforts, including Caleb.

[caleb-z.livejournal.com]

Caleb is taking a moment to breathe as he looks around at all the fallen zombies. He’s shot thousands of them since before dawn, and seen tens of thousands more. He’s seen them on streets, ion cars, in houses, on playgrounds, in schools, in malls. The schools were the worst – especially the elementary school back on Evergreen Terrace.

Some sights even people like Caleb can’t become used to. The others you force yourself to over time, just to endure exposure to them.

A loud thud on a nearby door breaks the silence. Then again. And again. The sound of moaning and scratching join the ever louder and more persistent thumping.

“I think it’s safe to guess what’s behind door number one,” he snickers tiredly as he approaches. Once Corrine is also ready he opens the door, but his tired arms won’t move the gun fast enough. Three hundred pounds of undead fat woman – a sight even more sobering when you realize that Bertha eats people, now – rushes through the doorway. Caleb only manages one shot (sadly, no, not a head shot) before being tackled to the ground. The thud of his head against the concrete nearly causes him to pass out, but Caleb manages to keep pushing against the fate-worse-than-death trying to gorge herself on uncooked Russian.

[damage-girl.livejournal.com]

The terrifying weight pressing upon him suddenly isn't anymore. Corrine hoists the beast up one-handed, tossing it hard enough across the lot that the impact with a parked car is audible. The fleshy lump is smoking against the metal, but it doesn't rise again.

She incinerates it anyway. To be sure.

A hand is held out before him. "Are you all right?"

[caleb-z.livejournal.com]

His one hand cradles the back-left side of his head, his other laying beside him, the grip on his pistol still tight.

“I think I’m going to spend next week in the Cayman Islands,” he gripes as he accepts her hand, and returns to his feet with a groan. Examination of the hand on his head reveals a small amount of blood.

“Damn,” he sighs under his breath. “I didn’t think I got hit that hard.” A grimace as he reaches back around, just wanting to confirm that the blood was indeed coming from his head. From the look of him, he’s more embarrassed than hurt.

[damage-girl.livejournal.com]

Island.

She turns away, approaching the door to make sure the immediate area of the building is clear for the moment.



Satisfied with finding nothing, she returns to him. "You've been up too long."

[caleb-z.livejournal.com]

“Wouldn’t be surprised,” he says, his eyes briefly dancing back and forth between Corrine, and the dent Bertha left in that parked car, a hint of a smile forming at the edges of his lips.

“Last I heard, they were starting to pull out the first responders as more Army was arriving on the scene. I just haven’t received my call, yet.” Calling it a day does sound like a good idea. The scene was havoc for hours after he first responded, and he had to go down to ground level to pull people out of it and teleport them to safety. By comparison, this street has been easy duty.

He nods towards the dented car. “Thank you, by the way.”

[damage-girl.livejournal.com]

She should've expected Caleb never quits until the relief shows up. It used to be a point that made her so angry, but now she just smirks at it and moves on.

"Still the man on duty." Goes to show people never really change from what they truly are. "You shouldn't be in close combat. Let me lead. We can stand a few more hours yet."

[caleb-z.livejournal.com]

It’s another forty minutes before the army manages to get a relief team to them, and as Caleb watches two HMMWVs and a cluster of infantry setting down his street to finish the job he started, he tries not to feel guilty about walking back the other way. I’ve done my job, he reasons. I helped get the crisis under control. They don’t need you anymore, Zukov. You're tired. Time to rest.

The (relatively) quiet bliss is shattered shortly after the soldiers disappear over the hill. It’s odd, Caleb notes, how it’s become intuitive to run towards the sound of gunfire, not walk away.

“So…” He says to Corrine, reminding himself that he isn’t abandoning anyone, “… Metro Java is outside the quarantine. I’ve had them giving out free coffee to the police all morning, but the store room is pretty big. They probably still have enough for two more cups, if you care to have a drink.”

[damage-girl.livejournal.com]

People.

It's been a long time since her interaction has been with someone not dead or otherwise drowning in their own darkness. The lost of the leylines are her responsibility now, choosing never to give up the mantle to her own poor, unsuspecting child. No, it was better that she be here fulfilling this purpose, and never pass on the demented legacy of her family. It hasn't afforded her much time among the living, though.

She is still one of those... right?

She can't remember the taste of coffee. She doesn't quite feel comfortable saying yes. A lax in her usual watchful eye will mean more work later. However, Caleb's likely to go back to aiding in the crisis if she simply leaves. He's never been good at knowing when to stop. She imagines his face among the blank stare of the damned, always trying to spill into her realm...

"If it means you'll rest, I can acco-- I can-- yes. Thank you."