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Posted: Oct 1 2017, 01:02 AM
Evening approached, the fading sun told her so. People were leaving, those who had come to pay their respects. No funerals today, just tear tracks and sad faces. You'd ask why anyone would hang around in such a place. Moonbeam would tell you that she belongs there as much as anyone else. The dead should dwell amongst the dead, should they not? Indeed, the undead mutant spent as much time in the cemeteries as anywhere else. She was one of the few Morlocks who spent more than minimal time on the surface. It wasn't that she blended in, but she could explain it away in certain settings. Dark areas, raves, muted lounges, costumed events...and cemeteries. Eyes may have glanced over at the woman in black, but mourners don't focus on such things for long.
There was nothing special about this day. Clad in her typical black attire of boots, jeans, shirt, and hooded jacket, Dead Girl whiled away the day in a tree. Her body did not transmit things like soreness and stiffness anymore. Discomfort? You needed active nerves for that, and her had stopped carrying messages to and from her brain long ago. So she could easily loiter up there, no matter how awkward her position appeared. As for time...so? She had nothing pressing to do. No job, or need of the things a paying job would give her. No, things like food and sustenance, shelter...these things meant nothing to a living dead body. Illness did not come, so no medicine. Weather, be it cold or heat, did not register. And it would take quite a concerted effort to render her lifeless body useless. Time meant nothing to the undead, to a technical immortal. Was she immortal? That usually meant you couldn't die. Did the term still work if she was already dead?
Someone was approaching her in her isolated little tree as she mused on. Dead Girl didn't look down, didn't give indication that she was paying any attention to the person standing at the foot of the tree. Despite this facade, when she spoke, it wasn't the air of someone aiming to talk to themselves. "I suppose that you've come looking for me for a reason? I can't be that interesting to stare at." She could, actually, given her complexion, but it wasn't exactly broad daylight. Her pigment 'issues' would be harder to see here. The crimson in her eyes wasn't of the glow-in-the-dark variety, though she'd found that she could kind of make it so for a brief time. It wasn't terribly dark yet, here in the dwindling sunlight. So they'd be visible if she opted to come down. DG wasn't worried. Anyone purposefully looking, here of all places, wasn't someone she needed to hide her physical appearance from.
This post has been edited by Moonbeam: Oct 10 2017, 08:35 AM
Posted: Dec 23 2017, 04:25 AM
The mutant known as Dead Girl didn't come down from her perch, hardly shifted from her position. She just waited. It was like this, sometimes. If she waited long enough, they'd speak up. They always--well, almost always did. Some lost their nerve in the face of her silence, like a judgment had come upon them. But again..time. They came back eventually. They all did. You had to reach a certain stage within yourself to seek her out. To go through the trouble to even be able to find out. It wasn't like she went around advertising. So the hoops they went through...it was something else. 'They' weren't numerous, but their number was scattered across many locations and over time. Here in New York, this was actually just the second person to come forward. And so she gave the person below a little time. Someone like her, well, time was a construct. Arbitrary. What was time to the dead? So her reclined position didn't change.
The person waiting below was decidedly more...grim? Determined? She guessed you had to be, to pursue something like this. People had all sorts of sayings about the dead. Don't speak ill of the dead. The dead tell no tales. Take ___ to your grave. Silent as the grave. In the age of mutants, such concepts were laughable. No, you didn't have necromancers or people like her running rampant in every city, but they existed. She existed. And now they were turning those old sayings, and more, upside down.
It must be so distressing... Perhaps that was part of why some humans were now crusading for their destruction. A fruitless task. Didn't they realize? Mutants were born, not made. They couldn't sniff them all out. A mutant could be born from a pair of humans who both possessed no powers. It was a lottery almost - though whether it was one of fortune or misfortune was up to personal opinion. And did those humans really suppose that mutants as a whole would sit quietly during this attempted eradication? There were already forces rising against them, forces with a mind of violence. They'd gain in number, overwhelming even those mutants wanting to live in peace. Oh, you had groups like Damocles, but for how long? Would groups like that really be able to hold the line in the face of blatant genocide?
"You're right...I..I came to ask for a favor. I..I don't have much, but I can pay you."
The words roused Dead Girl from her musings, and reminded her that someone was actually there for something. It seemed that they had gathered their nerve. She didn't come down, but did roll over onto her side, facing them. "Is that so?" she replied. "And what payment can you offer someone like me? You seem to have an idea of who I am....or do you?" For what use did she have for money? Food, clothes, medicine, frivolous pleasures?
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