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Warning for possible triggers and death.

i . INFECTION.

1. YOU ARE INFECTED. It could be days, hours, or even minutes before you turn. Do you keep it to yourself and pray for a cure? Or do you hand your weapon over and trust your friend to put you down before you can hurt anyone else.
2. YOU KNOW. At least, you're pretty sure. They've been getting thinner, weaker, and the temperature that they're running can't be good. How do you proceed?
3. THEY'RE STILL HUMAN. These zombies are still people, you're the only one that sees it. You just can't take the killing anymore. Or maybe you just want to KILL THEM ALL. You're sick of these things. They're already dead, there's nothing human left in those eyes - you're a zombie killing machine.
4. IT'S YOU OR ME. There's no way the two of you can get out of here alive. Are you a good enough friend to let them go, or are you the sort to ensure that you only have to outrun them.
5. ABOMINATION. You've handled everything you've come across so far, but this is just wrong. Be it a baby, an animal, or a horrific mutation that grants it special powers - this one is throwing you for a loop.
6. NOT YOU. You recognize that one. Maybe it's a family member, a close friend, a lover, or a co-worker - you know who they are. Do you have the strength to do what needs to be done?

ii . SUPPLIES.

1. NOTHING LEFT. You're running out of almost everything. You've only got enough to feed one person now. Do you give it up, or are you ready to kill so that you may survive?
2. FOOD RUN. You and your buddy are all that stands between your group and cannibalism. Better hop to it.
3. ROTTEN. It's sat out too long and now everything is bad. You might have eaten it before you realized how rotten it was and now you're paying the price.
4. STOCKED. You found the ideal hideout and you want for nothing.

iii. YOU AGAINST THE WORLD

. YOU'VE GOT A PLAN. You can protect your team, but it might cost you your life.
2. IMPROVISED WEAPONRY. They're closing in and you've got to think fast.
3. MUTINY. You're tired of their authority. You can do a better job.
4. ESCAPE. That city was getting too full, you've hotwired and tricked out a vehicle and now you're getting the hell out of dodge. Any zombie causalities are completely intentional.
5. SURROUNDED. Your safe space isn't so safe. They're on all sides of you and you're starting to run out of ammo.
6. NEVER ENDING ROAD TRIP. You've been in this car for ages, everyone is getting tired, and you're not sure where a safe rest stop is.
7. YOU WERE IN ON IT. You're safe in the head office of EVIL INC. and nothing can go wrong. Unless that clumsy scientist knocks that vial over, or unless one of your co-workers goes mad with the guilt. Or maybe you didn't know what you were getting into, maybe you've switched sides and you two aim to fix this mess.
8. ONLY ONES LEFT. Everyone else is dead. You're all that's left in the world. Where do you go from here?

iv. WILDCARD.
Create your own scenario, pick one from above or mix and match!

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[ he knows.

of course he knows. he can read him like an open book. they practically think the same thoughts, feel the same things, their hearts practically beat in time with one another. a simple gesture says a thousand words, and tavros knows all from the moment his moirail starts to limp. he knows as soon as his temperature starts to rise, when the warm body in his arms starts to shake despite the heat of the tent.

but admitting it would be different.

it would shatter the illusion that everything was alright. he'd never be able to piece it back together. ]

I think, if we keep heading west, we should find Sollux and Nepeta's hive...

[Gamzee had always been the optimistic kind. Partly just from nature, partly because of his unwavering faith in the fact that his Messiahs were always sure to bring him a miracle.

He tried to laugh it off when that zombie ambushed him out of nowhere. Tavros made short work of it, like he always did, and of course he was fine, Tavbro, you don't see him bleeding to death, do you? But he could feel the raw, dull ache in his wrist where the poor bastard's fangs had gnashed against him just before Tavros had knocked the head clean off of his body with a single swipe of his lance.

It was getting colder, harder to walk, and neither of them said anything, but Gamzee was sure Tavros knew. But he kept his mouth shut anyway, and grinned at his moirail despite the fact that he's clinging so hard to the other troll's body for warmth that he's sure his claws are drawing blood. Dizzying, deep, indigo droplets just under his fingernails-

Gamzee swallows hard and smiles.]

You think they'd still be hanging around their hives when this place is going down to shit, brother? Because that'd be the motherfuckin' bitchtits.

[He hopes so. It'd be nice to make sure they were okay. And, perhaps, some tiny voice in the back of his head told him, to make sure Tavros would always have some company. Someone to keep him grounded and sane. Nepeta wasn't a bad sort; maybe she could help him out when--

All thoughts are cut short by a series of hard, wet coughs that seemed to make Gamzee's entire body quake. He brings a hand to his mouth to cover it, and his stomach drops with he feels a small, wet glob smack against his hand and his mouth suddenly filled with a sharp, metallic taste that was all at once nauseating and alluring.

His tongue darts out and licks the blood off his palm before he even knows what he's doing. Just as well. It wouldn't do Tavros any favors to see him coughing up blood.]

Maybe.

[ One hand gently runs through the curly mess of hair on Gamzee's head, teeth grit behind smiling lips. It hurts. Everything, everything about this hurts. The smile on Gamzee's face rips at something raw and dark in his heart and it's all he can do to squash down those feelings and keep the tears from brimming in his eyes.

The kiss he leaves on Gamzee's forehead is chaste and sweet.

He smells it. God. It makes his stomach roll and his hands clench reflexively at his moirail's back. He rests his chin on top of his head, draws in a deep breath through his nose, and tries to be the level headed one for once in their long relationship. He knows what Rufio is saying and what Rufio wants, he knows that this is the sort of place that he could lose himself in because all of the colors and none of the consequences but he can't he can't he can't.

Gamzee needs help. No one has found a cure yet, but that doesn't mean no one will. Maybe... Maybe when he dies, before he wakes up, he could give him a kiss and wake his dream self up... or has that too become rotten and wrong? He hasn't slept long enough to know if he's seeing the golden city or the dark, cramped space of a dream bubble. ]

I know that, Nepeta is too quick. And, maybe she found Karkat... and if they're with Sollux, then, nothing can touch them. [ his voice is wavering. the pauses between words are long, he's fighting back everything to try to maintain some level of calm and cool. ]

[Tavros was never hard for him to understand. He might as well be wearing his heart on his sleeve, for all the difference it made to Gamzee. Wasn't this what every troll looked for? The fated bond between moirails?

Or...fated something. Sometimes the red lines got a little too blurred for his own good.

Either way, the result was the same. He could feel Tavros's fear and despair and easily as it was his own. Tavros knew. Or course he knew. How could he not?

His joints hurt. The air he breathed seemed to burn in the back of his throat. His stomach began to twinge in hunger that could never quite be sated. And it was just so cold. He's never been this cold before. Even Gamzee, as unendingly happy as he was, couldn't quite suppress the tight knot of dread and fear in his chest. Somehow, he manages to unclench his fingers and give Tavros what he hopes is a comforting, massaging motion on his back.

Keep him calm. Keep him pacified. Don't let him get upset.]

Awwww, yeah, I remember. Sollux is a hardcore motherfucker. You go all and run up and join them and my bro Tavbro would be motherfuckin' SET.

[He tries to give a honk of enthusiasm but it just degenerates into wet coughing again. His hand jerks from Tavros's back to cover his mouth and he doesn't quite move it away this time.]

We'll get there, soon.

[ Why couldn't his blood be warmer? The thought sickens him, the very notion that he would want to be anything than indigo is deeply unsettling... but he can't protect Gamzee like this. He can fight for him, he can kill for him, but he can't save him when his own body is the enemy.

What can he do... He knows what he should do - he knows how easy it would be. All he would have to do was wait until he fell asleep, pet his hair, stroke his cheeks, then grab his horns and twist and it would all be over.

That's what he should do.

But he can't. He can't. His shoulders shake. He needs to keep Gamzee fed, and warm, and safe. ]

... Call something over. Something big.

[The blood on his hand was warm and wet and tasted of deep, deep darkness. All at once sickening and enticing.

He was optimistic. He still held out hope that his messiahs would give him a miracle. But that hope is gradually turning into "cure" to "please let Tavbro kill him before he gets his change on and starts eating all these motherfuckers".

It's so cold. So cold and that aching hunger in his stomach was starting to hurt and Tavros's demand made him frown. Gamzee knew what he wanted and he never cared for manipulating animals like this.

But they needed to eat. Or at least, Tavros did. Gamzee focuses his mind and brings one of the larger hoofbeasts meandering over to the clearing near their tent.]

Go get your eat on, brother.

[It's an old one. He tried to do as little damage to the herd as possible.]

[ He gives the lanky troll another hug, another kiss, then he quietly lets go and leaves the safety of the tent.

The kill isn't as quick as it should be. Tavros takes his time, tortures it, plays with it's head with powers he'd long promised himself never to touch, before finally offering the sweet mercy of death. His hands are shaking when he pulls the lance from the creature's cracked skull, teeth ripping into his lower lip as he tried to fight the sobs threatening to spill forth.

He can take his time.

He butchers the animal with more force than is needed. Skins it sloppily, because Nepeta's lessons had always been wasted on him, then tries to dry the hide off as best he can while making the remains into something edible.

Eventually, he re-enters. More composed, with a thick hide under one shoulder and a messy platter of food in the other. ]

Can you, sit up?

[Gamzee would have been disappointed if he could have seen that display.

But as he was now? He had no idea it was even happening. He's lost his concept of time. When Tavros comes back in, Gamzee is huddled into a miserable, shivering ball on the floor, teeth grit and thick, brown tears forming in the corners of his eyes.

He hears his moirail come in and tries to uncoil himself up off the floor, but instead just makes a lame, floundering maneuver onto his back. He winces with the effort, catches the other troll's eye, and attempts to give him a friendly wink.]

Honk.

[It was a weak greeting. He was tired and hungry and every muscle in his body ached, but Gamzee still held out hope that his infection wasn't completely obvious just yet. If he could keep the blood in his mouth, maybe...maybe it would look like he was only very ill. No matter what Tavros suspected, it didn't mean he was going to take the more obvious signs any better.

Gamzee attempts to prop himself up on his elbows before he could make himself look any more pathetic. Tavros had food, lovely, meaty food that smelled like death and blood and Gamzee felt another spike of hunger drive into his stomach as his mouth watered at the sight and smell.

No.

Fight it.]

Honk. Don't be worrying about this motherfucker, Tavbro. I'll go off and get some relaxation done, so you go on ahead and get your eat on all up without me.

[ Did Gamzee take him for a fool?

Tavros watches the display for a moment, eyebrows knitted together, absently licking the wounds on his lip. Everything about this scene is wrong and makes his heart thrum with pity and pain.

You should do it.
You should really,
do it.
Take him by the horns and twist and he won't be hurting any more.
You're his moirail,
you need to protect him
from himself.

No. No he didn't have to do anything. They were going to find Karkat and Nepeta, then they would hijack a ship and get as far off planet as they possibly could. They'd find a cure, they'd stop him from hurting, then they'd find a new place to live free of the tyranny and neglect of their Emperor. ]

I already ate. [ It's a baldfaced lie. He can't eat, not when looking at his suffering companion makes him sick to his very core. He tries to smile - stops, then simply settles for the concerned look he can no longer hide. ] This will, keep you warm. I don't make for a very good, heater, after all.

[His eyes flicker over to Tavros's face, watching his mouth with rapt attention. He runs his own tongue over his dry, cracked lips, a flash in his eye that could only be described as primal, hungry want.

But he squeezes his eyes shut and shakes his head and when he looks back up at his friend, there seems to be a little bit more of himself in those glazing, unfocused eyes.]

My beastbro get some motherfuckin' aggro and give you trouble? [He wouldn't know anyway. The growing pain of his body shutting down left little else to focus on in terms of outward distractions. He tries to smile, but it turns into more of a grimace at the end.] Guess I can't let either of my bros be thinking I'm all ungrateful-like.

[Maybe....maybe just a taste wouldn't hurt.]

[ Better this than him.

Gamzee's going to stop fighting it eventually. It's not his fault, he's just not built to have willpower. It's in his blood, Tavros tells himself, smiles smoothly and sets about getting the fur over his moirails shoulders.

Then the plate goes on the floor in front of him.

And for the first time ever, Tavros steps back and away. ] I'm... going to go, keep watch.

[He clings to the fur like it's his only lifeline and nods absently at Tavros's words, focus drawn to the meat in front of him. The smell was overpowering and he can't keep his willpower forever and he keep seeing flashes of that indigo blood on his moirail's lips and he was just so hungry.]

Okay.

[ He's striding out of the tent before he can see what a mess his moirail makes of that.

He will not acknowledge that it is too late. ]

[It doesn't matter if Tavros can't see it. He can probably hear the way Gamzee tears apart that meat like a starving troll would. He can't suppress the low growl of satisfaction when the food rolls down his throat, or the snarl as his teeth rip into the meat. It quiets down eventually though, and when Tavros chooses to walk back in, he'll find a cleaned plate in pieces on the other side and his moirail on huddled on the ground again, lips stained with blood and his body covered with a bright sheen of sweat.

That was a bad idea. He feels so nauseous. So nauseous, so hungry.]

[ The rays of dawn are what drive him back inside. They won't come at dawn, it's too hot for any troll to survive. Even the dead ones.

Maybe it's his fault. He never really believed in the messiahs. He was too caught up in fairytales and flight and things that weren't possible and couldn't be held up with logical faiths. Maybe if he'd worshiped like a good troll and not left everything to his lowblooded companion, they would have made it through this whole mess unscathed.

he should do something.

He shouldn't be standing here, so painfully indecisive, twisting the hem of his shirt and tripping over his own thoughts for a solution. ]

Gamzee?

[He lifts his head weakly at the sound of his moirail's voice. His chest heaved with the effort and the air was like fire when he breathed. Brown streaks were trailing down his cheeks and smearing his already marred facepaint. He sees Tavros and there's that want in his eyes again. That hunger that seemed to border on lustful.

No. Absolutely not. He will not give into this. He will not attack his best friend, not after the emotional distress he was already causing him.

He wouldn't last long in a fight with him anyway. The thought shouldn't bring him as much comfort as it did.

Gamzee squeezed his eyes shut again and let his head fall back down with a whump. Somehow, he manages to conjure up a feeble smile.]

Hey, motherfucker.

Hey.

[ As much as he'd love to lie down next to his moirail and take him into his arms again, he knows that he can't. Gamzee's all sharp teeth and angles, his guard is always down when they're too close. No matter what the circumstances.

He could tie him up.

He could... He could gag him, do something about those teeth - they'd grow back.

But he's suffering so much. ] It's, going to be day soon. You should get some sleep.

[Daylight.

There's an idle thought wandering in the back of his mind wondering if he'd make it to dusk. Or if the infection would finish him off while he slept.

It wouldn't be so bad, really. He could go to sleep, forget how painful this was, and that would be the end of it. By the time he woke up again there wouldn't anything left of him there to remember.

But he can't. He can't. He can't. Tavros is still okay and he can't turn on him like that with no warning. It was hard, and he was tired, but manages to shake his head at Tavros's suggestion, grinding his forehead into the floor. He tried to ignore the fact that he could practically smell him at this point, all sweat and sinewy muscle, tried to ignore the fact that it felt like he had swallowed hot glass shards that were currently tearing holes in the lining of his insides. He tried to ignore that aching, painful hunger.

He wanted nothing more than to pull his moirail into a hug and tell him everything was going to be okay because he's got so much motherfuckin' faith in his bro, and you're going to do great things, just you wait and see. But Gamzee couldn't trust his instincts that far with his friend so close.]

I'll give it a go later, Tavbro. This is some sicknasty shit.

[ He's reminded what a terrible fucking moirail he is and always has been. It should be a give and taken relationship, yet he's so reliant on Gamzee... and he's never done a thing for him in return. If the tables were turned, Gamzee would have done what needed to be done.

He would have.

Or he would have done it for him. ] Gamzee... [ He swallows hard. ] Go to, sleep. You can, sleep it off.

[He's so tired. Tavros's gentle suggestion was appealing to his weakened, wasting body, and Gamzee could feel the edges of exhaustion on the corner of his eyes. How wonderful it would be to go to sleep and forget this ever happened. He could sleep and maybe hide in the comforting darkness of a dream bubble before he lost himself completely.

He swallows again and the dryness of his mouth sends him into violent coughing, brown blood spilling out of his mouth and splattering onto the floor.

He's just glad his face is against the ground at this point.

It won't be much longer. Maybe several hours or so. God, by now it was almost comforting.]

Tavros. [His real name this time.] Got anything that'll get this facepainting to go all up and get its disappearing act on?

[He may not have grown up with the teachings, but he's been a follower for sweeps. He always felt less like himself without his facepaint. Like a part of him was missing.

It was a sense of anonymity that was starting to appeal to him. Maybe this disconnect from himself would help Tavros do what needed to be done, when the time came.

Or sooner.

Preferably sooner.]

... Gamzee.

[ He knows what he's trying to do.

And so he has no choice. Stop thinking about him like that.

He's just a lowblood. He's always been just a lowblood, you knew that he'd die long before you would... A lance wouldn't be swift enough. Tavros settles in the corner, silent for a long moment. ]

I, have a rag.

[He rolls back onto his back. It takes several pushes before he finally manages one strong enough to rolls him over. He grasped blindly for the mussed hoofbeast hide, pressing the fur absently to his chest.

So cold. How was is so cold when the air was like fire to breathe in? He coughs, and gags, and blood dribbles out of the corner of his mouth and he lifts a shaky hand to wipe it away.

He draw it back again, staring intently at the smear on his palm before forcing himself to put his hand down.

He reaches in Tavros's direction, arm outstretched and palm facing upward, fingers splayed.]

Throw it the motherfuck over, bro.

[Just a little longer. Then he'll just look like another troll to him. Just another infection. Tavros would be fine without him. If he could find Nepeta and Karkat, then they'll keep him straight. Tavros would make it out to space and show everyone exactly what he was made of and Gamzee would be getting his motherfucking proud on....wherever his next destination was, if there was one at all.]

[ Please, don't go. I can't go on without you. Fight it. Be worth something, prove all of the faith I've put in you. Don't leave me alone again, I can't be alone again, not after having you in my life.

The rag is absolutely filthy. It's stained with the dull, maroon blood of the hoofbeast. He tosses it over without a second look, turning away. ]

[Yes, you can.

You can do this.

I believe in you.

It's hard to use the rag. The smell was dizzying and Gamzee has to take a moment to bring it to his nose and just breathe in the scent of death on the rag. He ground his teeth against his lower lip to stifle a moan that bubbles up in his throat that was so ecstatic it was unseemly.

He scrubs furiously at his face, hoping the thick greasepaint would overpower any smell of blood on the rag. By the time he's done, his face is raw and bleeding in some places where his claws had caught the skin and the gaunt, wasted look was even harder to deny. But it was clean and that was all that mattered and Gamzee hurls the rag as far away from himself as he can manage.

He flops his head bonelessly to the side and attempts to smile at his friend's back.

This act never fooled Gamzee. Not once.]

...Think I'll be taking your advice now, bro.

Good.

[ He sits. Knees to his chest, breathing deep an deven and he doesn't care stop looking at him. He was a highblood. He could manage on his own, he could, he could. The only reason they made it so far was because he had taken it upon himself to be the fighter to save Gamzee from having to wash the rainbows from his skin and stare directly into those glossy eyes.

A lance wouldn't do it.

Maybe a sword? ]

I'll be here, when you wake up. [ It's soft. It's a gentle promise, but he won't let you wake up. He wants to, he wants to wait, to see, but it's not going to happen and he knows that once you're asleep he won't be able to watch any more. The sentence breaks in the middle, Tavros rubs one hand over his eyes. Stopping the tears before they can even fall. ] So, get some sleep. We can, go, at dusk and meet up, with everyone else.

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Tavros: Be the murderer