Life After Death [open]

"Excuse me." Logan pushed through the crowd with a slender smile, closing the book he had been pretending to read as the girl got crowded by clouds of suffocating people. He knew he'd not want all this attention, even if he just fell to his death.
"You seem a little...messy. I could show you were the showers are, if you don't mind." He remembered passing the sign on the way from the Initiate Dorms, the insignia of a stick-person with droplets raining on them. He didn't see an official dorm insignia on her, at least under all the blood. He held out his hand with a grin, a relaxed offering grin that would bear no shame with rejection.

Jane watched in mute amusement as Destiny and the flirty flower boy traded venomous glances and thinly-veiled threats. Fighting over me already? A rosebud bloomed from his palm, red as blood, and Jane plucked it from his hand with a gracious smile. "See you around, white knight," she said as he turned, strutting away with angry red flowers lining his path. Hard to be hardcore when you're the Knight of Flowers...

The white-haired girl was a bit off-beat, but she hadn't been expecting much else. Necromancers were always like that on TV, creepy and awkward, but she seemed nice enough. Her offhand remark was still pricking at her brain. 'I suppose that would be why your soul didn't leave your body.'

A soul... She'd have to chat with Destiny another time soon, whenever she wasn't covered in blood.

She pinned the flower to her blood-soaked collar when another boy butted through the crowd. He wasn't as tall as Flower Boy, and his hair was a lusterless brown instead of black, but his offer made her smile all the same. "I don't think I'd mind at all." Jane, with all the grace a shambling corpse could muster, let go of Destiny's shoulder and slipped her arm through the green-eyed boy's. "Sorry if I leave a few stains. You're right, I can be pretty sloppy."

Headstrong flirts like the black-haired kid would run around in circles if it meant a night with you. They saw themselves as conquerors. The humble ones were the most fun to tease.

Jane glanced back at the other girl as she spoke up again. She never seemed to stay in one place for long, did she? She took the handkerchief and dappled it against her bloody lips, leaving prints on the fabric like red lipstick. "Hey, thanks!" A handkerchief was more useful than a rose, if she was telling the truth. The bloody girl gave a feeble wave. "See ya, Jules."

Zombie queen, huh? Is that the impression she was leaving?

That wasn't too shabby.

Rather than taking his hand, she put her arm into his, entwining them. Logan blinked, but said nothing. The boy pulled her from the group, out to where thrre was space to breathe.
"Now," he said, flipping his bag around to his front and stuffing a book in. He kept his eyes fixed into his pack as he spoke. It made talking to girls a little easier. "Forgive me if the answer seems obvious, but," he casted his eyes upward with a cocked brow, a slim confused smirk. "Why did you think it was a good idea to jump off a building?"

Jane smiled as they pulled themselves away from the gaping crowd, keeping up a steady hobble at the boy's side as they walked toward Beata Academy's imposing wooden doors. She was glad for a little space, and for a shoulder to lean on. "Well, it was faster than taking the stairs." It'd taken her forever to get up in the first place. "Why do people usually jump off buildings? I was trying to kill myself."

He gave her a sideways glance, and slung the pack around to his back, shrugging. Sure, that answered his question. He would have liked a little more insight. "Okay, okay," he grinned, wiping his chin of nothing in particular. "New question. Why kill yourself? I mean, obviously you can get right back up, but doesn't it still..." --he waved his hand a bit to stall for the right word-- "...hurt?" The courtyard had begun to get crowded, but they were already closing on the initiate dorms, on the archaic doorway whose sign had long since faded. A lot of things needed to be replaced by the school. It was getting beyond just charm.

If they were being truthful, Jane hadn't been trying to come back to life, but she didn't see any reason to tell him that. "Pain and pleasure remind you that you're still alive," she told him with a wry smile. "What doesn't kill you makes you stronger, or something like that." Her fifteen-year-old-philosophizing probably didn't make any sense, but pretty girls rarely had to say anything of substance. "It's just fun. Haven't you ever seen some high point and just wanted to jump off? Onto a trampoline, or into water, or whatever. It's like flying."

"Maybe you should ask questions like that to people with more appropriate gifts." He opened the door to the inside the academy, laughing under his breath at her philosophy, her way of thinking. Logan hung his arm out to hold it for her, standing sideways to let her in. "I'm sure I'd agree with that if I could fly. Or risk it to die trying." He wasn't exciting like that. He was the one to be afraid of heights.

Jane ambled unevenly through the doors with a small laugh, glancing back at Logan over her shoulder once she stood in the initiate dorm hall. "Oh, and why not?" she asked him. "Risk is the spice of life. If you let your fear hold you back, then one day you're gonna be old in bed and realize you never lived." She gave him a small poke on the cheek, and when she pulled her finger away, there was a small red splotch on his skin. "Time is short. Make the most of it while you're still young. Jump off a high tower."

That sounded kinda deep, didn't it? In reality she'd jumped to affirm what she already knew; that she was immortal, one of the living undead who'd die and come back no matter what. A part of her, a big part of her, had hoped that when she hit the ground, it'd be all over. Beata had made some mistake and she'd just had some weird survivor's luck. It turned out that she'd been wrong.

There went nothing. She reached out with her sleeve, lightly brushing away the spot of blood she'd left. "Sorry about that. I warned you about the stains."

Logan stayed in his place, as they reached the showers. "It's fine," he said with a smile, a look down-and-back-up. His pack dangled from one shoulder, and he had already started to curve his body away from her. "Well, if you ever decide to...kill yourself again, I can help you if you break your bones too hard or something." He raised his hand, and blobs of green light, strange energy bright as plastic, danced around his palm. "Your power is killing yourself, and...well, my power is making sure you won't wish you were dead."

Not wish she was dead? That was sweet, but he wouldn't be able to heal that part of her. "I'll keep that in mind then, Doctor," she said, watching the shimmering green light play in whorls around his palm. "I guess you should know that I get pretty weak and lightheaded then. If I collapse in the hot water, you might have to run in and help."

Jane left him on that teasing note, stepping through the shower doors and slipping out of her blood-soaked blazer, hanging it up on a metal rack protruding out of the wall. There weren't any stalls or privacy in here, just a row of shower-heads in a wide and open tiled room. For what it was worth, she was alone in here, at least for now. She loosened her tie and unbuttoned her white undershirt, letting her pleated skirt fall to the ground in a puddle around her socked feet. They were all ruined, right down to her black loafers. Oh well.

She limped forward once she was undressed with all the grace you'd expect out of the Zombie Queen herself. You'd expect her to pop up instantly healed like a bright little daisy, but the pain lingered in her like a phantom of her past life. Her body's regeneration was faster than any normal human's, supernatural even, but it was still slow. Every step was agony, every scouring breath filled her chest with aches and pinpricks.

It turned out Jane didn't have to worry about hot water. It was frigid, and a shiver wracked her body when it hit her like a storm of hail. Blood washed down her skin like red dye to swirl around the drain on the floor, and she stood wavering in place, ignoring the sharp pain from where the water met the gash on her forehead.

That's when she started to sing. Her voice rung throughout the room, high and sweet and completely unabashed.