Kenny (
enervated) wrote in
derogation2014-08-06 01:43 pm
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
STEALING A PAGE FROM SCRIBBLES' BOOK AND OFFERING OPTIONS
[OPTION A: LONG DEAD WINTER]
[Walking Dead universe, here. Virginia in winter. And up near the mountains, to boot. Not the best place to be, but sometimes you're forced to play the hand you're dealt. And the cold slows down the dead, so there are worse places one could be.
It's just about the only 'good' thing that has happened to Kenny in the past week, and even then, the 'good' it is is highly up for debate. Though honestly, the bad is still stacked high, especially now. A herd separated the group and he's just trudging on through the cold streets trying to locate even ONE of the group. He'd prefer Clementine, if he had to think about it, but he wouldn't turn down Mike. Or even Bonnie. Luke... Luke, well, Luke- he doesn't want to encounter Luke, the fucking turd. Kenny's already chalked this fuckup to Luke, the boy's as bad as fucking BEN, and that takes some real talent. Some real, real talent.
He just keeps moving; a true figure of depressed, PTSD determination stalking his way through the cold, mostly empty streets. One hand on his firearm, the other on a knife. Firearm for survivors. Knife for the dead. To say he's prepared to stop anything that might slow him down from getting back with the group is an understatement.
Man, fuck this town though, how the hell is he supposed to find anybody here?]
[OPTION B: AN UNFAMILIAR PLACE]
[Your character's universe.
The last thing he remembered was the showdown against the fucking Russians. Russians. In Virginia. Of all the things. The kid in the leg brace pointed the finger at them for something they hadn't done, ambushed the lot of them. And then when Kenny fired his gun - Clementine called for help and he had given it without hesitation - they assumed he was firing at them instead of putting down someone who deserved a better life than what had unfolded. The Russians began firing at all of them, and in turn they (Mike, Bonnie, Luke, Kenny) began shooting as well.
He had one of the sons of bitches right in his sights.
And now he was here. On the ground. It didn't feel cold, and he didn't feel DEAD. Slowly, he opened his one working eye.
This... was not a cold, snowy road outside of some town in Virginia.]
Oh shit...
[OPTION C: BLIND LEADING BLIND]
[Wildcard. You get to make up the shit here, it could totally be anything.]
[Walking Dead universe, here. Virginia in winter. And up near the mountains, to boot. Not the best place to be, but sometimes you're forced to play the hand you're dealt. And the cold slows down the dead, so there are worse places one could be.
It's just about the only 'good' thing that has happened to Kenny in the past week, and even then, the 'good' it is is highly up for debate. Though honestly, the bad is still stacked high, especially now. A herd separated the group and he's just trudging on through the cold streets trying to locate even ONE of the group. He'd prefer Clementine, if he had to think about it, but he wouldn't turn down Mike. Or even Bonnie. Luke... Luke, well, Luke- he doesn't want to encounter Luke, the fucking turd. Kenny's already chalked this fuckup to Luke, the boy's as bad as fucking BEN, and that takes some real talent. Some real, real talent.
He just keeps moving; a true figure of depressed, PTSD determination stalking his way through the cold, mostly empty streets. One hand on his firearm, the other on a knife. Firearm for survivors. Knife for the dead. To say he's prepared to stop anything that might slow him down from getting back with the group is an understatement.
Man, fuck this town though, how the hell is he supposed to find anybody here?]
[OPTION B: AN UNFAMILIAR PLACE]
[Your character's universe.
The last thing he remembered was the showdown against the fucking Russians. Russians. In Virginia. Of all the things. The kid in the leg brace pointed the finger at them for something they hadn't done, ambushed the lot of them. And then when Kenny fired his gun - Clementine called for help and he had given it without hesitation - they assumed he was firing at them instead of putting down someone who deserved a better life than what had unfolded. The Russians began firing at all of them, and in turn they (Mike, Bonnie, Luke, Kenny) began shooting as well.
He had one of the sons of bitches right in his sights.
And now he was here. On the ground. It didn't feel cold, and he didn't feel DEAD. Slowly, he opened his one working eye.
This... was not a cold, snowy road outside of some town in Virginia.]
Oh shit...
[OPTION C: BLIND LEADING BLIND]
[Wildcard. You get to make up the shit here, it could totally be anything.]
b?????????
[Seriously, he looks like shit. Kenny might notice that he's back in that house. The one where they had to dig up the dog. The boat. All of that. Omid and Christa are talking quietly upstairs. Vernon is already gone with the boat, damn him, and Ben and Clem are in the kitchen.
That leaves Lee and Kenny in the parlor, Ken in particular on the couch, with Lee hovering over him.
But not too close. Because he doesn't want to get punched in the jaw.]
You look like someone beat the shit out of you. Christa cleaned it up, but... Jesus.
no subject
When he comes to, it's to the sound of a familiar voice. For a moment, he can't pinpoint how he knows it- it's been a while since he's heard it, almost two years, but- when he opens his only working eye...]
Lee...?
[This can't be real. He's dreaming. Or dead. Or maybe he really is insane like he's so certain the group believes him to be. Kenny exhales harshly; rough and a little shaky. Not because of any physical pains, so much as emotional ones.
God, he missed this man. He doesn't sit up, and just puts his hands over his face. The pads of his fingertips press against his eyebrows before he drags them down along the sides of the bridge of his nose, lightly pressing against his eyes (including the wounded one, like an idiot). His next word is quiet, almost under his breath.]
Fuck.
[He wipes at his eyes then- he isn't crying, but he feels like he might just.]
no subject
I should've stopped you. When you charged off like that, I thought you'd come back in five minutes. But then you come back after half a night looking like this...
[He shakes his head, holds out a water bottle.] Here, you need it more than I do.
Who's the son of a bitch who did it? Did you see him? ['Cause Lee is pissed.]
no subject
He wipes at his eyes again, this time actually doing something productive. He doesn't know what to say. Lee's dead. Does this mean he died in the gunfight? God, he's trying to process it but it's hard to try to think shit out when normally you aren't Mr. Think Shit Out, but to add a dead best friend standing around, that just makes it harder.
So, for lack of any words coming to him, he answers Lee's questions, now finally looking down and away from Lee as he does so.]
I, uh, I killed him two days ago.
[But saying something is enough to spur him into saying something more.]
Lee. This isn't... this isn't- real? You... fuck, Lee.
[Okay, it isn't the best 'something more'. But it's what he can manage at this exact moment.]
no subject
[He watches Kenny start to tear up. He figures it's just Kenny realizing he's alive after being beaten within an inch of his life. He sighs and puts the water bottle down.]
... You wanna talk about it?
no subject
But the thing is. He can't really handle hearing that. He can't hear being asked by the one man he cared about when everything was going to shit. And so he snaps his head up, looking at Lee again, and as evenly as he can manage - while crying, anyway - he speaks.]
Lee, you're DEAD.
[It's not a threat. There isn't the right intonation involved. This is a blunt, upset statement of fact.]
no subject
However, he's not expecting that to pop out of his mouth. Lee stares at Kenny for a long moment, not quite comprehending. Was that a threat? No-- Kenny didn't sound angry. Just sad, frustrated, defeated maybe.]
What the hell is wrong with you? I'm not dead.
[That's not funny. And the worst thing is, Kenny wouldn't joke about this shit.]
no subject
[Kenny's elbows go on his knees, his face in his hands. His shoulders hunch stiffly. He wishes what Lee said was true. That he wasn't dead. Things just - hadn't gone right without him. Maybe for a little while things went okay, but if Lee had been there... maybe those fucking assholes who showed up at the lodge would be alive. Lee would have found a way to save them all. Or minimized the deaths to only one or two. Somehow.
He doesn't lift his head from his hands when he speaks again, his voice slightly muffled.]
So I'm... I'm dead, or dreaming, or I just fucking LOST IT during a fucking shoot out. God, fuck, it's the last one, isn't it?
no subject
He rubs at the bridge of his nose.]
You dreamed all that up, Ken. You're fine. I'm fine. Vernon-- the bastard-- he took the boat while we were out, but we're all here.
I'm not slapping sense into you. Not while you're looking like that.
no subject
Part of him wishes he could just blindly accept what Lee was saying. That he just had a horrible nightmare about the past two years and now everything would be okay. That Lee never died, that Ben (the fucking shitbird) never died, Sarita never died, Walter, Matthew, everyone was still alive and he hadn't nearly died taking the fall for Clementine.
Except he knows Lee is in the wrong here. Kenny sniffs slightly, lifts his head. He smiles, but it's broken and weary.]
Lee. I appreciate you tryin' to make me feel better an' all, but... d'you really think I can grow a beard like THIS in a night?
no subject
Ken. It's not like I'm paying attention to your personal hygiene. It's the apocalypse. We got bigger things to worry about, you know?
[He reaches out to take Kenny gently by the shoulders. His sleeves are rolled up. He is clearly, most definitely, not bitten.]
I'm not going to die. I mean, eventually, but not anytime soon. I hope. So get that idea out of your head before Clem hears you.
no subject
He can hear him in the kitchen, speaking with Clementine. He can hear her, too. The happier, younger voice of Clementine. Not the one he's gotten used to in a short amount of time; sadder, depressed, older.
He tries to work with Lee here, in a way, because he doesn't want to upset even a Not Real Clementine. So he speaks quieter, but it's still clear he is not convinced Lee is fine and not dead.]
Fuck, man. I... I missed you, ya know? I didn't know what happened to you and Clem for two years. When Ben fell and we got separated, I- I just ran. Outta Savannah. ...I shoulda come back for you two. I shoulda.
[If anything, maybe this'll give him some chance to get some of the emotional burdens off his chest. To him, it feels like something of a confession. Perhaps it's just one to himself, more than to Lee.]
no subject
But he keeps his hands steady, warm and real.]
Ken...
[Jesus Christ, he's been through some stuff. Lee can tell that much at a glance. It's not right for him to get knocked on the head, and then cmeshit like everyone's dead-- it's not.
When he's quiet enough that Lee can sort of talk him through it, he starts.]
I'm sorry about... whatever dream you had. But you just saw me three hours ago. Ben didn't fall from anywhere. You never left me or Clem. [He smiles halfway.] I mean it. You're the best damn friend anyone could have.
So don't go feeling bad for stuff that never happened, all right?
no subject
Kenny wipes at his eyes again.]
I wish I could, pal.
['Pal'. God, he hasn't said that in so long. It feels rusty and strange to be in his mouth again.]
God, I really wish I could. Fuck, Lee, I want to.
no subject
Water? No. Food? Probably not, though he's considering it anyway because a little food never hurt anybody and Kenny has a way of skipping meals to help out the littler folk.]
Well, whatever it is, I guess we'll just have to wait 'til it passes.
["I don't want to say you're crazy but you're crazy."
He reaches around the side of the couch, finds that whiskey bottle.]
I, uh... I'm not trying to pressure you into anything, but if you want a drink, there's still some left.
no subject
Thanks.
[He looks at it for a good, long moment before taking a swig and handing it back to Lee. Part of it is some measure of trying to have control: alcohol and him had their long dark history. And to think, he had been sober for a few years before all of this had happened, spurred on by wanting to be a better father, wanting to be a better husband, supported by Katjaa through the whole thing. But things went to shit and so much for being permanently on the wagon.
The other part of him handing it back to Lee is quietly inviting the man to drink with him. Sure, Lee may be dead, but that strong, desperate part of him that wants Lee ALIVE wants to believe Lee's story that nothing bad happened and he only got smacked hard on the head is real.]
Lee. If I believe this, and I wake up... I don't know if I could handle it. Goin' back to- Clem needs me, I know that, but God. Everything's turned to fuckin' shit.
no subject
Well. Okay. Even he knows he doesn't need it, but this is some pretty detailed hallucination on Kenny's part, and Lee feels like it will only get worse in the telling.]
The only place you're going is to bed. Just... don't make any sudden movements. God knows you could fall on a table and lose your other eye. [A very sad attempt at humor, there.] Can't have that; your aim is probably fucked as it is.
[He offers the bottle back to Kenny.]
Clem needs you here, too. And me. So take care of yourself, all right?
no subject
As Lee goes on, Kenny closes his eyes and half smiles at the man's attempt at a joke; he even snorts a little. But when he tells him that Clem needs him HERE, that Lee needs him HERE, the smile fades, his brows furrow. For a moment, he's lost in thought- maybe he could stay? Maybe it- even though all his other thoughts bristle against him. But Ken is a desperate man who would truly take anything to get back what he had. His resistance shatters and his expression clears from dark and troubled to simply just weary and a little sad; his eyebrows unforrow and slightly lift, and he looks at Lee a little lost. But he tries to keep himself together.]
Don't worry, pal. I ain't gonna be dead weight.
[He's really trying. It's hard. He takes another swig before handing it back to Lee. Maybe he's fucking up letting his desires overrule the like, tiny bit of reason and logic he has. But it's too late now. He wants this.]
'sides.
[His tone wavers for a moment before it manages to hit: he hasn't joked honestly for so fucking long it takes a second for him to remember how you're even supposed to SAY a fucking joke.]
Ain't that just a liiiiiiittle bit hypocritical comin' from you? I've seen you fall on your ass more times than I can count. Maybe if it were you missin' an eye, that'd happen. But me? Naw.
no subject
But Kenny's tone steadies and it's a joking one, much to Lee's surprise.]
Hey, man. I don't always fall on my ass.
[A beat.]
Sometimes I fall on my face.
no subject
And so he sets himself to it.]
Yeah, you do...
[He looks Lee straight in the eyes - as well as he can manage. It's really more looking Lee straight in one eye, really.]
Lee. We gotta get out of this house. Round up Christa, Omid, Ben, and Clementine. Stayin' here is a fuckin' death sentence.
[Kenny pauses for a moment. Then he swallows, unsure. While he had been tossing out those preliminary orders/commands with a bit of conviction and determination, now his tone seems to be pleading.]
You'll listen to me on this, right?
[Please.]
no subject
That's a little sudden, [he says, trying some attempt at levity.] But I've been thinking about that, too. The town's basically picked clean.
[He doesn't want to say that it's a death trap, but it's a death trap. Thankfully, Kenny seems to be of the same opinion. And considering Kenny was just deposited ass-over-head in a parking lot as walker bait, maybe his point of view isn't so strange after all.
Lee's lips form a line. He leans forward, drops his voice a couple notches.]
Ken. Did you-- see something out there?
[Because even if he's fuckin' flat out crazy, Lee still has his back, somehow.]
no subject
He's still adjusting to being blind in one eye so for now he turns his head slightly to the left, and looks at Lee that way. It's at least widened his general range of the room but sucks for peripheral vision.]
I don't need to see shit, Lee.
[He has dropped his voice as well, quiet and low.]
You think I'm crazy, alright, sure, but you know you oughta listen. So let me tell you, pal. There are a couple thousand walkers fuckin' pourin' into Savannah right now. We are boxed in.
[Kenny points at one of the boarded up windows. He doesn't even look at it. He doesn't need to. He knows what's out there.]
I bet you anythin', you walk out there more than three blocks in any direction, and you'll see the dust kickin' up. See the front of the herd. We can't. Stay.
no subject
You just don't.]
Oh my God. That's-- that's not a herd. That's a fucking massacre. Jesus Christ.
[He drops his head into his hands.]
How are we supposed to get out? Vernon took the fucking boat. There's nothing left.
[And here he thought they could take a nice midafternoon stroll and just not come back. No. Fuck no. Staying here is definitely not an option. Not with fucking two thousand walkers pouring into the city.]
Maybe... Shit. Maybe we can go back down into the sewers. Head north, pop out at the edge of town and just... make a run for it. Shit. I told Clem we'd look for her parents, but... shit.
We are so fucked.
no subject
[Kenny is stepping up now; his news definitely punched Lee in the gut so he's got to be the strong one for a few minutes for his pal's sake, and his tone of voice, the sudden sharp look to his eye tells it. He almost seems a little more detached than usual as he continues to talk. It's that visible shift where Kenny basically shuts everything off except single minded focus on a task. Keep movin' forward.]
We fuckin' sawed your arm off down there in that morgue, and I don't fancy goin' down there again. And aside from that, the whole fuckin' system is packed full of walkers anyway - or will be.
[He inhales harshly and stands up. Then he puts his hand on Lee's shoulder.]
I ain't lettin' us fuck up again.
[The hand resting on Lee's shoulder turns into Kenny giving the man a solid, supportive thump on the shoulder.]
C'mon. I know how we're gettin' outta here.
no subject
Even if he's talking madness, Lee still takes him seriously. Maybe it was a bad dream, whatever. He's gonna keep justifying whatever he can if it means getting Clem out alive. He knows it's stupid to trust a guy who apparently thinks he's done all this before, but, fuck, it's Kenny. As long as he tells Lee what's going on, Lee will make his own judgments about the situation.
He rubs at his temples.]
I have no idea how you know this shit, but at this point I don't want to know. Whatever happened between a couple hours ago and me finding you... It obviously fucked you up. Whatever it was.
[He gets up.]
We can't just fly outta here, Ken. What's your idea?
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)