#aithrianam

           “ as T E M P T I N G as that sounds, sweets, “ the spectre of TJ speaks softly & with j e s t in his voice, “ i don’ think that’d be a v e r y good idea, “ an impish grin splits his sharp features. 

–💀–

“Don’t be stupid,” Elwood muttered, reaching up to wipe away excess blood from his lip using the sleeve of his SPC. “What does violence solve in a world already full of death?” If only the group of Vandals who attacked Elwood took that to heart. Bunch of arseholes. His face was an explosion of red streaks, as though it was some sort of fancy firework display on his pale expanse of skin. On the right-hand side of his forehead, a huge gash explained where all the blood was coming from; it was a gruesome sight, but the Half-Life looked unfazed. A regular occurrence, it seemed, at least for him. “Just go back to the bunker, Aisling. Leave me alone.” There was more fire to his words than was meant, a bitterness biting out. How ironic, considering what he was. It was what he was that landed him into this mess, sitting on the kerb with his head resting between his spread knees, staring at the ever-growing puddle of red around his boots.

The Vandals wanted to provoke him. To make him angry, make him bite. But Elwood resisted, despite the growing anger inside of him, and let them throw rocks. It was small rocks at first, and not enough to do any damage, but it was the brick that hit him square on the head which left him sprawled on the pavement. They didn’t kill him, nor kidnap him for a Death Cage Event, but being left alone - out cold - on the streets was far more dangerous. There was no risk of being infected, but Chris had once shown him CCTV footage of a Biter eating the corpse of a Spitter; it kept him awake that night. Nobody was safe.

--Ah, a ghost.

Nothing too out of the ordinary, then, though Ai wonders if Westerner’s spectres function differently, or at least are formed through other means aside from a tragic death.

“I don’t doubt that.” The half-life returned, knowing full well how Darren took to his sarcastic comments; the geneticist wouldn’t know humour if it punched him in the face, sometimes. Perhaps Elwood did use too much sarcasm, but it was apart of his character; it hadn’t suddenly appeared after becoming half-biter. It was his Northern routes to blame for that. Chris could be just as sarcastic, but, unlike Elwood, he knew when to stop. As he explained to Aisling, it was almost painful to bite down on his lip every time the opportunity to be sarcastic came up -- but, considering his nerve endings died in Nino-Tech’s testing facility, he had to pretend to suffer. However, whenever he had to endure listening to some of the comments coming from people’s mouths, he often wondered whether he was the only one suffering from being partly brain dead. Painful, definitely.

Squinting down at the pieces of dry toast in front of him, the half-life decided that he wasn’t hungry anymore. Hunger came and went for him after changing into what he was today, and he usually settled for nothing whilst watching the others wolf down whatever they managed to salvage. They rationed their food, but they had an agreement that once every month they would have a proper dinner -- just like before the epidemic hit. It wasn’t exactly a Sunday roast, but it was miles better than dry toast and water. Elwood had never seen anybody so excited to see pasta before when Matthew came running into the bunker with some, but it was a rarity. Being half-dead had some advantages, he supposed, because he didn’t need as much food to sustain himself as the others did. 

As he was about to attempt some food - he didn’t want to waste it - he was caught off-guard by Aisling’s comment. It was the mention of Pebbles that had him deeply frowning in her direction, hand placed back down on the table from where it hovered in the air, “You were spying.” There was fierceness to his tone as he bluntly spoke, his hand curling into a fist as he stared at the teenager with irritation. “That was you in the passageway. I could-” hear, smell, sense you. He refrained from telling Aisling that, because Chris had often told him that it was ‘a bit freaky, dude’. With a low grumble, the half-life hid his mortification by swiftly turning on his chair with the intention of leaving, but the sight of white fur had him stopping. 

Reconsidering his attitude, Elwood released a sigh as he watched Pebbles pad across the floor towards the table, crying out at him, “...she would.” It was quietly said as the half-life bent down to scoop up the kitten with gentle care, setting her on the table. She seemed satisfied there, so long as she saw Elwood’s face, her own two-toned eyes glancing contemplatively up at him. “She’s tough.” In response to his voice, Pebbles released a mewl as though agreeing with his words. A barely visible smile appeared on Elwood’s face as he ran his finger down the top of her head, feeling the softness of her fur. “But this doesn’t excuse you from spying, Aisling.” The moment disappeared into Elwood’s firm tone, though it wasn’t as harsh as before, “Okay?”