Work Text:
Your name is Kankri Vantas. You're a college student working on a degree in political science. You have a political rights blog on Tumblr. You spend your time writing long posts that you know are not getting to anyone, and won't change the world. You go to Karaoke with Cronus on Tuesdays. Go get drinks with Dirk and listen to him insult the patrons with Roxy while you try to defend them, but secretly agree with their assessments. On Fridays; Roxy knows their fashion.
Or at least you did.
Your name is Kankri Vantas, and none of that matters anymore.
None of it matters because now the dead walk the earth.
You know it's dangerous to let yourself dwell on the past, but dammit.
You miss your friends. Roxy's drinks right now, especially. They always knew what to make you so you didn't taste the alcohol.
Yes, you, Kankri Vantas; Drink Alcohol. Big deal. Who cares.
You are not an alcoholic. You know what it does to people, you've seen it. You do like alcohol though.
You sigh to yourself as you tighten your sweater around your waist, it's hot, so you're not wearing it. You have it tied around your waist, like hell you're leaving it behind and letting anyone think you're dead. If there is anyone else out there. No, your family is still alive, that much you can sense. Then again, the Spaniard you had run into a few weeks ago had run into two people a few months back, and one of them fit the description of Dirk, but it was obvious he had been hiding a bite. You aren't sure you trust your senses anymore. No, Dirk is not someone your familial connection will let you sense, but you would've dreamt about something that involved his death.
.............
Not that you've slept recently.
Then again, he'd also mentioned that this Dirk-like person had a kid with him. Dirk, with a kid. The thought makes you chuckle, which attracts attention from a walker behind you, you don't even turn around. You just wait for it to make it near you, and sling your arm backward. Its head thuds on the ground to your left, and rolls in front of you. You're covered in so much blood and grime that it didn't scent you right off the bat. You wipe the blood off of your sickle with the leg of your tights and keep walking.
The sun is bright, but clouds are starting to block it. They're dark and depressing, just like your mood, but you think that means there might be rain later. This means the dead will be slower and lazier, not that they notice you anyway. But you could use the chance to sleep without having to worry about them.
You're going to keep walking until the rain starts though. You know better than to stay in one place for too long.
All of a sudden you go on edge, you hear footsteps behind you. "F9r the l9ve 9f-" You stop, blink. They aren't shambling footsteps, they sounded like boots, something living. You whirl on your heels and swing your sickles at whoever has the gall to approach you from behind.
They are faster and curse in a foreign language that you think is Spanish, and duck under both of them, because you go for their throat. You manage to cut the ends of their hair as they go down into a crouch. You take their surprise to bounce backward, to put distance between you and this rude individual.
Wait, Spanish.
Oh my, Gog.
"Y9u, f9ll9wed me?" You are very angry.
"You're just going the way I'm going, amigo!" He tries to defend himself, holding up his hands in surrender.
You squint suspiciously. "The chances that we're g9ing the directi9n are very slim."
"What's your name?" He asks, raising a raven-toned eyebrow.
You actually lower your sickles to stare at him in complete and utter disbelief. "Y9u cann9t 6e seri9us." He grins at you, shrugging. "I'm pretty serious." You shift your grip on your sickles to pinch the bridge of your nose. "Y9u uncivilized cretin. D9 y9u kn9w h9w triggering it c9uld 6e t9 walk up 6ehind me like that?" You ask, and he rises to his feet, still with that grin on his face. "I c9uld 6e severely unc9mf9rta6le with any9ne c9ming up 6ehind me." You do. "I c9uld have th9ught y9u were 9ne 9f these r9tting freaks and killed y9u. I alm9st did. I c9uld have decapitated y9u."
"Like you did that guy." He nods behind him, at the body of the undead you had taken care of.
He
Just
Interrupted
You.
"D9 y9u have any idea h9w rude it is to interrupt! I c9uld have 6een saying s9mething im9rtant! N9t t9 menti9n h9w 9ffensive it is!" You had to keep some semblance of yourself. "H9w dare y9u cut me 9ff t9 menti9n s9mething s9 mundane as-"
"The zombie kill of the week?" He cuts you off again, sliding his hands into the pockets of his jeans, this pushes back his coat, and you see two gun holsters on his belt. This idiot reminds you of Jake English. No wonder you're so quick to bite his head off.
"Y9u did it again! That is s9 rude! Why are y9u like this!?"
He laughs. The asshole is enjoying getting enjoyment out of your offense.
"You never answered my question-"
"Kankri." You hiss at him. "My name is Kankri. Happy?"
"Kankri, huh? Nice name."
"9h, d9 n9t even." You set your hands on your hips and squint at him. "What d9 y9u want, uh..." You trail off, unsure of what to call him.
"Kevin." He tells you, probably figuring what you're subtly asking. "Kevin Escuella." He reaches back to adjust his ponytail, his hair almost reaches the small of his back, and as he brushes down it with a hand, he freezes. "Oh Dios Mio no." He mutters, drawing it over his shoulders, and looking at you like you'd just broken his most prized possession. His hair is shorter than it was a week ago by a good inch.
Oh my gog x2
"My h a i r." His whine is outright pitiful, and your hand hits your face hard. "I'm leaving." You state and turn around to walk away. "Kankri, hold on!" He asks you, you do not. His footsteps are swift and he appears beside you.
Fuck it.
"Kevin unless y9u have s9mething t9 drink that isn't water, I suggest y9u find a different pers9n t9 69ther." He blinks and you roll your eyes, persistent bastard. "I mean, I have alcohol if that's what you're getting at." Despite yourself, you stop to look at him. "What kind?" You find yourself asking, but you can't find it in yourself to change your mind. It's not like this guy knows you, it's not like he knows anyone you know, there's no one he can tell about your lapse in judgment. Kevin winks at you. "Oh, I have so many. I mean, I'm no alcoholic, but if this doesn't drive you to drink, what will?" You hate to admit that he has a point, a solid one at that. "Whatever, that w9rks." You turn away from him to glance around for a house to hold up in while you drink with this stranger, image be damned.
You spot one a bit of a walk away that doesn't look too compromised, and again, against your better judgment.. You grab Kevin's arm, and he curses in his native language again but lets you tug him into the open door, and he even shuts it for you, how considerate. You let him go and he gets the memo when you walk into the kitchen and breaks off into the living room. The kitchen is clear, so you open the cabinets and pull down two glasses because you are not drinking after this idiot.
You check the other rooms after and find nothing of interest. Whoever lived here took all their belongings, so you head back into the living room, where you find Kevin lounging on the couch, coat tossed over the arm, and he's digging through a satchel. You set the two glasses from earlier down on the coffee table in front of him, and then practically fall into the armchair at his left, wiggling to pull your sweater out from under you, untie it from your waist and stuff it behind your head as you lay with your legs over the armrest.
"Someone's getting way too comfy for the apocalypse." You snort. "I just d9n't really care anym9re." You give him a dismissive wave of your hand. "Are y9u g9ing t9 p9ur 9r what?" You hear liquid hit glass, and then the glass comes into your view, along with green eyes and an obnoxious grin. "Here your highness." You sit up a little and take the glass from him. "I'm n9t even g9ing t9 get int9 h9w 9ffensive that is t9 s9me9ne 9f my kind."
"Fuck the blood colour hierarchy." He rolls his eyes and goes back to his spot on the couch. Okay, you hate this guy a little less now, and it's not because he gave you something to drink. "Indeed." And with that you down your glass.
A couple of shots and a zombie later, you're tipsy, now laying on your stomach in what you found out to be a recliner, kicking your legs back and forth, sweater under your chest so you can see the hand gestures this fellow makes. He talks with his hands, you summarize. Has sloshed alcohol onto the floor in his movements. "Okay, okay, and then do you know what she said to me?" You toss back another drink and hold your arm for him to give you a refill. "N9, what did she say?" You cannot believe you're actually interested in this dumb story.
"She said, Kevin, your music is terrible. My music was terrible. Like she wasn't the one who cleared out a whole auditorium because her piano playing was like, like, kittens, fucking kittens, playing around with a ball of yarn made out of lead on her keyboard." He leans over to fill your glass, and you pull your arm back.
"Here's the question th9ugh. D9es is y9ur music s9und any g99d 9r are y9u just saying that t9 impress me." You'd asked Cronus that same question, once, and he gave you the same look Kevin is now. A mixture of offense, 'how could you' and confusion. "Come on, Kankri why would you do me like that?" Cronus had said almost exactly that too. Gog you miss Cronus.
"Cr9nus w9uld like y9u." You mutter into your glass, as you take this next drink, slower this time. "Friend of yours?" Kevin asks, taking a drink straight from the bottle. This makes you scrunch your nose. "Yes." You huff through your nose. "What d9 y9u play, anyway?" As if the bloody acoustic guitar on his back didn't already tell you. "This guitar was my mother's. She didn't die in this though, instead a long time ago. She taught me though." The statement makes you smile, softly. "I miss my parents t99." You roll over onto your back, to stare up at the ceiling, where you can just barely hear the rain start to hit. "Are y9u fr9m ar9und here?" You reach back to set your glass on the table.
"No, I'm not from the states. Spain, specifically. Are you good?" So Spaniard, you were correct. "Yes, I'm g99d. I can't c9mprimise myself anym9re than I already have." That gets you killed, you force yourself not to add. Kevin just shrugs and lays down on the couch with the bottle still in his hand. "We're safe, amigo." He informs you. "I never miss a shot, swear on my life." You roll your eyes. "Guns attract things, y9u idi9t." Again, this guy doesn't know you, you don't have to be the Kankri. "I never said it was just guns I was good with. Any projectile, it's a gift."
"Until y9u run 9ut 9f amm9." You let your eyes fall closed though, too drunk to care if any of that is actually true. "If you want to sleep, Kankri, you can. I'm not gonna stab you in your sleep, honest." "Why sh9uld I believe that?" You hear the shift of the bottle as he presumably shrugs at your question. "I mean, you have no reason to, but here's the thing." He pauses. "What is the thing, Kevin?" You press, but bring up your arm to lay across your eyes. The rain is getting heavier, you're intoxicated which makes you warm and sleepy, and rain has always lulled you to sleep. "The thing is, if I wanted to kill you, I wouldn't have offered my drink, and I would've done it already."
That's right, all you had were your sickles, and he was armed to the teeth. "I've g9t pe9ple I need t9 find, d9n't kill me." It's joking this time, and Kevin chuckles. "I won't trust me." You shouldn't. "Get some sleep, you're like one of the dead out there, if the bags under your eyes say anything." Observant too, wasn't he? You didn't have time to question it any further, as the alcohol and sleep deprivation grabbed you by the throat and pulled you under.
And you dream.
Your dreams had always been telling, little flashes of colour and scenes that could be, have been, are.
You rarely get to focus on one before another flashes through your mind.
Pink, The shot of a rifle, human blood spatter, a broken martini glass
If you remembered that when you woke, you could place what it centered around.
Orange, teeth, panic
Teal, flames, cigarette smoke, garnet
A blurred signature in red ink, tires screeching, the ticking of a clock.
Your shade of red, the crack of a whip, high rise buildings.
Your shade again, amber, oppressive energy.
Your shade once more, your brother's voice, muffled but identifiable.
You want to focus on this one because you fear for Karkat, but you have no control over what you do and don't see.
Violet, a stronger scent of cigarette smoke, the sound of steel sinking into rotten flesh, white flash
Red and Blue in quick succession, a crackle of psiioniics, honey yellow.
Then nothing.
---
Your eyes shoot open three hours later, You shoot up in your seat, momentarily panicking. Then your head pangs and you lift up a hand to hold it, squeezing your eyes shut. "G9g fucking damnit, I'm s9 stupid..." You mutter, forgetting that you're not alone. You're quickly reminded though when you hear a groan and the cracking of bones. You whirl, and stare at the man on the couch nearby, whose back is arched off the couch, arms above his head as he stretches, and yawns.
Right, you remember now. You'd gotten drunk with this fool because you'd lost your self-control under the stress and trauma. You had thought sgrub had done a number on you but you had no idea what was in store. You ran a hair through your shaggy hair, and sighed. "Why am I like this.." You ask yourself, forcing yourself to stand up. "Like what?" Your companion, and Jegus you just called him your companion, asks, stretching again. "N9ne 9f y9ur 6usiness." Then your head throbbed again and you had to sit down. "What time 9f day is it?" You can't find it in you to raise your voice. "If I had to guess I'd say it's like, one or two? In the morning." You groan, frustrated and hungover. You're thankful for the well timed crack of thunder. "Fuck me." You whisper.
If Kevin catches it he doesn't say anything about it, just chuckles and says. "Lay back down, Kankri. We got a while to wait before it starts raining." Despite the fact that you need to get moving as soon as possible, he's right, the storm will just slow you down. So you do lay back down. "Y9u're n9t c9ming with me, are y9u?" You ask, and hope he says no, the guy is a distraction waiting to happen, and you can't afford that. "And let you keep pushing yourself to your limits, get yourself killed before you get where you're going or find who you're gonna find? No way. If these people you care about matter so much to you, then I'm gonna make sure you get to them alive and well, because their gonna need you too."
Yep, Cronus would like this guy.