Fantasy The Last Judgement

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Location:
Jersey Streets. Driving Military HumVee
Tags: Rui
Mentions:
Destination: Police station.
Companions:
Darius
Velska

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[/div][/div][div class=title]SALVADORE GRIGORI[/div][div class=text]
"...Bravo. Charlie. Delta. Echo. Foxtrot. Golf. Hotel. Ind--", The call signs echoed through the metal shell that encapsulated three, the murmurs reverberated in the relative silence. White noise for a bleek future. A military grade chasis, built to take small arms fire with relative ease. It was a good deal they had gotten from the 'disgruntled' enclave that cast them out not but a few days ago. They could have open-fired, and Grigori may not have lived to have plowed through streets of destroyed New Jersey with such ample supplies and accoutrements. Of course this was no gift onto Grigori and the kids by the leaders of that enclave, it was a gift of loyalty and respect due to the following he had amassed. With fervor and clamour the groups nestled within that Air Force base flocked to his words, to have the stokes of retribution burn with undeniable unity. His word, his movement, could work--he only needed time.

"--ia. Juliet. Kill.". Grigori grumbled as the snubbing of a tongue caught his ear and ire. Darius stayed silent, burning holes in the driver seat. Among the ruined husks of human civilization, a lone armored military jeep halted. Its destination? A police station,which bore a bounty to scavenge. Supplies to make the insurmountable liveable. As the car stopped the two passengers jostled about. A young man no older than 16, eyes filled with passion and arrogance. The other, a pale girl, held onto military emergency rations--Velska, who's stoic and ethereal nature settled between the age of 14-15 years of age. Her near-apathy for all things spoke a forgotten history within Grigori's life. Darius's burning will was zenith. A true human will, unwilling to be snuffed out so readily, but unforgiving devils.

"You stopped.", Darius huffed, "are you seriously going to make me recite the entire call sign list 100 times?", Grigori said nothing. The silence was deafening, the message was clear. Darius clicked his tongue, only to flinch in the greatest of fears as the leather gloves of Grigori attire wringed tightly around the frame of the steering wheel. Darius calmed and turned his head away.

"Kilo. Lima...". Message received. As Darius's voice trailed off from Grigori's ear, replaced by the sounds of tire on craggy asphalt, he heard Velska's faint and hushed voices counting food rations.

"двадцать два, папа Григорий", she pulled herself to the passenger seat. The military garb she wore ill-fitted her, the pouches jingling with survival tools as she moved. She looked tentatively towards the only father figure she could have known, eagerly awaiting acknowledgement. Her russian was simple--but it was a start, it filled him with some relief that she has been learning her mother tongue, English maybe lingua franca, but the need to have his truth spread to all did not halt at single spoken tongue. She would be slaughtered meat in battle, but she took to Grigori's speech giving rather well. Her candor and meditation was owed respect. If perhaps not for her he would not have left unscathed.

"Now read the map, give me an estimated time of arrival"his voice grumbled. Velska tilted her head, unsure of why he sought ETA from a map when location data say before him in the robust combat resistant console. She pulled her head towards the deck, but before she could parrot the computer a large hand obfuscated the screen. Slamming down like electric bolts born of sky.

"I asked you. Not the machine."Grigori's face did not face hers as he scolded her. She would consider it a mercy, but she pressed on, "It can tell us the information right there, why not use it? It is resource. Utilize Resources, you said that.". Grigori looked at the destroyed world, he had thoughts of the responsibility of fatherhood. Of how he seemed to not reach them on the simplest of tasks.. Much to his regret he looked toward the specter of his father amd sought council...

"And what of this machine? When it passes, will it give you the answers you could not find? You wil have left its stead with nothing, no lesson learned. No knowledge gained, only the realization that you had chosen convience over self improvement. The world before this one was compliant to their need to atrophy their minds and grow corpulant upon the backs of machines.", Velska and Darius looked toward the prophet. They'd often wonder what in life lead him to both despise what humanity was and so firmly believe their potential to cast off the God and Demons that yoked them. Velska started to well up, she understood--but his scolding may have beem a bit harsh.

"If I were to die tomorrow, would you weep for me or would you remind yourself of what I taught you? Learning to thrive, to empassion, to wage your life against horrors I could no longer save you from? Man begets child, child becomes Man. Your only salvation is to forget childish things and learn to survive as a human." Grigori decided to calm his voice, the concept of surviving wasn't foreign to them--but self improvement? It seems he still has much to teach coddled children.

"I-I am sorr--"
"No apologies--I need a map read", Grigori interjected. "The police station can allow for many possibilities, before rats pile at the gates."
"Ye-Yes.", she recovered from her lapse of emotions, Velska soon charted the course. "Under 3 hours, 2 hours 45 minutes? No. Definitely.". Her resolve to live up to both his edicts and sermons. It filled her hope, even if it did seem harsh to hold onto against the hellfire of burning corpses and violated carrion. She cannot be helpless, she will not.

Grigori lifted his hand off the console screen. Shutting it down. "Then we will be there in 2 hours 45 minutes." He confirmed. A sense of warmth emanating from his hand as he placed it upon her head...The drive will not be much longer..



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The cold, silent streets of a once lively town and a man making his way through the deep snow. The wind played with his hair as the snowflakes kissed his freckled cheeks. The rather soothing moment of tranquility. Kayden stopped and listened. It was quiet. Almost too quiet. Only the sound of his own breathing echoed through the deserted street . He sighed. The Earth became one depressing hell of a place, during the last two years, but the fact of being trapped inside this black and white film was not of much importance for Kayden. At that moment his thoughts were concentrated on one thing…COFFEE!!! He could barely keep his eyes open. Kayden rubbed his eyes and continued walking. »Tired…scrap that. I. Am. Fucking. Exhausted!«, He murmured to himself while he ran his fingers through his messy hair, and yawned.
Somehow he made his way to the parking lot near a sad little grocery store, when he heard voices. Voices of the living. Were they demons, he hoped not. As much as he hated getting into a fight with demons at this rate he kept on walking to the source of the noise. He stopped when he saw two dark figures of the men outside the store. One with the black hair and beautiful azure eyes and the other almost a replica of the person he used to know. Kayden took a deep breath and waved at the two:, 'Hey, you guys look like shit, need some help?'

Hell0NHighWater Lakyr

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[div class=whut]
[div class=biggie]
[div class=speakeasy]
“To go wrong in one's own way is better than to go right in someone else's.”[/div]

[div class=handsomedevil]


NIKLAS LIAM VOSS

[div class=speakeasy]LOCATION:xxxx Amish-ass Market Situation

OOC:xxxx uwu

TAGS:xxxx Chise_Robin_ , Basically everyone. Open.
BGM:xxxxBLUE OYSTER CULT - DON'T FEAR THE REAPER



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[/div][div class=speaks]

The car ride had been a terse affair, with Haruka apologizing profusely for something that wasn't really her fault. He had taken her water with a gentle smile, thanking her graciously, but he hadn't said much of anything else. The darkness that sat in the pit of his stomach rolled over within him, a lazy claw digging into his innards. This is too hard, take the mantle. He wanted to, more than anything, but he had to hold onto what little graces he was afforded. Small flickers of light that he wanted to keep in his hands like fireflies. Ones he wanted to help shine brighter.

He, too, had the walls, and the pain. He, too, feared for all these people. But he took a sledgehammer to these walls, and dismantled as many as he could, the ones inside himself, that were constructed to protect a heart far more tender than should've sat within his chest.

Beating like a bird's wing, frothing the milk of human kindness he was being given.

There was no point in indulging by locking his heart up in a tower. He felt he didn't have the luxury of time to nurse the mortal wounds of his soul. He could hear the ticking of the metaphorical clock, and feel the beat of his heart in time, in a constant, in an inevitable. There was no time for any of that, because he felt he'd be a visage, the self forgotten, in probably a week at most if he played his cards right.

When they parked, and stopped by a rustic looking market, he had still said nothing. He was trying to understand something, and trying to gather the pieces of this giant puzzle that was his life. Trying to place together what the future would be, and how he could navigate to the finish line in his current condition. If he could. If he could press that week into months, years. If that was possible.

He mulled all their various injuries over in his mind, thought on what lay over the horizon, and was pensive. Not pensive in the way that sadness clings like a shroud. Pensive in the way of a man trying to calculate just how far he could make it on limbs stuck in thick black mud, and still keep up.

He wanted out of this flirtation with damnation.

"Could you grab me some food and maybe another water bottle in there?" Snapped free from his musings by James, the blond had taken onto another cigarette. He could possibly find more inside, so he felt that he could press his luck by indulging himself a little bit. He greeted his young friend with a faraway look in his eyes, then came-to, dark blue gaze snapping to attention.

"Of course, I'll try to get you some of the good stuff." Nik followed after the rest, stepping forward into the market with smart shoes making a dull noise on the aged floorboards. He whistled at the offerings, finding the rest of them already picking through stuff.

"what is this..the nine hundreds?" Despite also wanting that deep, dark, electrifying brew, Nik was cautious. He walked to stand next to Alaska and looked over the offerings of this little shop, eyes peeled for a sign of danger, strong brows narrowed.

"But who the fuck set it up?" He asked from a tired mouth, smacking his lips. He remembered just how vile the thing he had barfed up had been, his expression soured, and he took the initiative to start rummaging for goods.

Nik managed to find an obnoxious green backpack, not unlike his cloyingly oppressive neon lighter, and started filling it with everything he could find. Water, of course, and sardines. Fats, proteins, things that were small, easy to carry, but packed a punch. Carbohydrates, things dense in nutrition. He wasn't just going for the goodies, he was going for shit that would keep him and the others fed on the least amount of space possible, for the most bang for their buck.

Nik was being pragmatic. He cast an eye to Ezra who was chortling a song, and a goofy smile cast across his face. He shook his head, and kept finding the best things he could, stationed away in his new backpack. Nik stopped at a small kiosk not too far from Alaska, and let his dark blue eyes sweep across the offerings. He found a small necklace, hand-made it seemed as they were in some artisanal shop, with a moonstone pendant. It was silver, probably fake, but the moonstone was real. It was like a little charm on a thin chain, another charm sitting next to it, a small red flower, and a silver wolf.

He took it in his hand and carefully placed it into his pocket. He guessed that anyone who had stopped by this out-of-the-way market wasn't concerned about jewelry. But he knew that small gestures mattered, and wanted to make it right by someone he had teased. Secretly soft, or not so secretly, the man would rather make amends before the gnawing in his gut pulled him down to the depths of damnation.

Stuffing more things in his bag, Nik made his way back to the coffee station. Swallowing whatever trepedation he may have had, the blond made himself up a cup—he generally liked it with cream, sugar, and some kind of spice like chili powder (weird, but good)—but thought he'd give it a shot. Cigarette between his index and pointer finger, backpack slung over his shoulders, he swallowed a small plastic cup's worth down. Nothing strange was happening.

A charming grin extended across his face and he made a deep noise of satisfaction low in the chest. He was still concerned about just who had left all these things here, and why it was mostly untouched. But beggars can't be choosers, and looking a gift horse in the mouth wasn't something he did.

Nik found some kind of towel, and started makeshift wiping the remnants of blood off of his face and trying to get the smell of all the nastiness he had been trudging through off his body. Then his eyes grew bright when he found, the towel in mid wipe over one half of his face, a perfect good t-shirt and long-sleeved flannel shirt tucked underneath some boxes. They were a little big on him, the man a bit slimmer than he used to be but nothing too concerning, and he set his still lit cigarette on a metal sill. Shirt over his head, undershirt flung at a wayward box, he pulled the t-shirt on, and then the flannel.

He wasn't usually a fan of flannel, but this was pretty clean, and better than what he had had on before. There weren't any pants as far as he saw, but he, again, wasn't going to complain about the great things he was finding.

So far he had water, sardines, a bunch of protein bars, a large tub of peanut butter, a roll of baby wipes—taking a cue from Ezra, the boy was smart—several packets of dried fruit, a a tall container of oatmeal, olive oil of all things, and cheese in a package.

These all were high in calories, dense compared to how small they were, and would last a while. Olive oil was a strange thing to nab, but he was thinking long term. You could live on that stuff if you had to, you really could.

Nik had made sure to get enough for James, some things for Rhys, and the others. The backpack was rather spacious, and he could carry a lot on his shoulders. Years of carting heavy art supplies, glass pieces, gigantic paintings on thick Caranda, sculptures, ladders and the like set him up for a resilient back. Despite all the popping and muscle strains he had been getting, the man could be a pack mule when push came to shove.

As far as other essentials went, he had found a diminutive med kit, nothing fancy, and a needle and a small ream of fishing wire. He was terrible at first aid, but he was good at stitches. Good being rather subjective, as he was more apt to drown himself in alcohol both metaphorically and literally, and gouge at the wounds if need be. They never hurt too badly, because as always, a little pain was a good thing to the blond.

Cigarette back between his lips, Nik rounded back to Alaska and hung his arm over her shoulder, with all the gentleness and caution afforded to him. She smelled like blood and sweat, and something sweet. She looked like the memory of a ghost he couldn't forget, but he tried not to concern himself with figments from the past. No matter how insistent they were.

"Stateswoman, you alright?" He asked behind his cigarette, which was careening into the air like the lilts of a twisting ballerina. It mixed with the other smells of the market. He pressed away from her a little bit, eyeing her wounds with paternal concern. He would offer to take a look at it if she needed help, but he wasn't going to impose.

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[div class=biggie]
[div class=speakeasy]“The man who has a conscience suffers whilst acknowledging his sin. That is his punishment.”[/div][/div]

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[/div][div class=statusText] Just outside of the general store, gettin' gas yo
Tags: Jammies Lakyr New Kid In Town Anise
Mentions: Ken-Boy | The Great State of Alaska
BGM: Mr Sandman
[/div][/div][div class=title]Rhys Contiello[/div][div class=text]
"Would you mind me joining you?" The sound of a male voice gave Rhys pause and he took a second to glance over his shoulder at the brown haired kid with the emerald gaze. He thought about saying know, about telling this kid to hit the road, but in reality he didn't particularly mind the company. He gave him a slight nod before continuing towards the road. The snow gave a light crunch under his boots and the stillness of the world, although eerie, was strangely comforting.

"Don't feel too bad about that race, you didn't mean for them to get sick."

Rhys ignored the comment, bending down beside an old Chevy that had seen some better days. He wrestled the gas door open before taking a second to unscrew the cap. He really wasn't looking forward to this, but gas was something they needed. As much as he was mentally bitching about it, he wouldn't force James to do the syphioning. Having already done it once before, Rhys knew it wasn't a very pleasant experience and wouldn't wish it on the teen.

"Was it stupid? Of course, but you were just having fun and fun has always included some stupidity. Without that, you'd go crazy. Believe me, I've been there until we've arrived at that gas station." Rhys glanced up, a dark brow arched a little higher than the other. Was there an off button somewhere on this kid? Did someone flip a switch when he wasn't looking? He just kept talking. No wonder he and Nik seemed to get along, the two of them could talk the demons to death. "You should have seen the smile on Alaska's face and the spark in her eyes, she was so happy about the race. Well, you know, when it still was all fine of course." That made him pause with the hose half way down the gas tank. He had seen that smile. It was part of the reason he agreed so quickly. This group seemed to look up to him --most of them anyway-- and he felt responsible for keeping them safe. It was more than just an officer looking out for civilians. There had been a certain amount of detachment with the other groups he helped along the way. This, however, was different. It was like a piece of his soul knew he could find a family here.
And he would do anything to make them smile.

Rhys took a glance up at James, mouth twitching into a barely there smile. "Alright, alright, I get it. No more moping. Now come here and let me show you how to do this before you lecture me to death."
A breathy chuckle left him and he could have sworn in that second that a little bit of that weight had lifted.

"Okay so this is the sucky part --no pun intended-- but if you do it too hard--" His instruction was cut off mid sentence by someone else, this time it was a voice he didn't recognize. Rhys had turned on his heel, gun up and out of the holster before anyone could respond. His azure gaze narrowed on the boy walking towards them, quickly letting his eyes roam over him. Rhys didn't feel that tell tale aura of affliction nor did he feel that sweetness of a blessing. It made him relax slightly, but that didn't mean he trusted the kid. Humans were monsters all the same.

"Hands where I can see 'em kid." He glanced back at James before looking back at the new comer once more. Rhys rose from his kneeling position, towering over the boy as he moved closer. It had made him self-conscious as a teenager, having been so much taller than the rest of his classmates. Slowly, he lowered his weapon still not convinced that the boy didn't pose a threat but convinced enough not to keep the gun in his face. Rhys pressed his lips into a firm line, "Who are you?"

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[/class] [class=whut] background: #fff;[/class] [class=handsomedevil] background: #fff; text-align: center; width:30%; margin: 0 auto; float:left; padding:10px; color: #140033; font-weight:100; [/class] [class=speakeasy] letter-spacing: 3px; word-spacing: 2px; border-bottom: solid 10px #140033; text-align: center; font-size:10px; background: #fafafa; padding:30px; color: #140033; font-weight:100; [/class] [class=speaks] padding:15px; text-align: left; float:right; width:65%; background: #fff;[/class]
[div class=whut]
[div class=biggie]
[div class=speakeasy]
“To go wrong in one's own way is better than to go right in someone else's.”[/div]

[div class=handsomedevil]


NIKLAS LIAM VOSS

[div class=speakeasy]LOCATION:xxxx Amish-ass Market Situation

OOC:xxxx Nik is Mom confirmed
TAGS:xxxx Chise_Robin_
BGM:xxxxCAT POWER - MAYBE NOT



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[/div][div class=speaks]
''Oh they're not so bad, i'd love to stop this bleeding though, ....How are you doing?'' Nik admired Alaska's courage, but now was not the time. The bleeding just didn't seem to be stopping, and he had seen how bad she'd been injured. He'd been there. Nik mulled over his lower lip with his teeth while she spoke, cigarette primed between his fingers. Considering that they probably had a while to go before they got to wherever it was they were heading to, Nik thought he'd have to impose. Just a small amount, and if she made a fuss, he'd leave her with his med kit and sit by with an anxious look on his face.

He was growing to care a lot more than he had initially anticipated. Maybe he was just in that age range, because it had been such a short time. Maybe it was because he looked on the future path of his life and realized just how short it probably was. If the affliction didn't do its duty and rip his soul out of his mouth with silvered claws and a grin on its face, it was very likely he'd be injured or killed in the future. Surviving in this brave new world was hard. No matter how strong you were, one wrong move meant the end for you.

"I'm alright. They're not that bad. Probably fucked up my tattoos more than anything else," Nik said with a small smile, the corner of his mouth down-turned as he was still in concerned protector mode. There was something about Alaska. It wasn't just the faded, watercolor little apparition that dipped over his vision and flickered like a low candle. There was a familiarity there that he couldn't explain. Like some sliver of time long since past, cut away and placed on the future with different brush strokes, pigments and fixatives.

Different parts of other people he had cared for, found easily in this girl named after a state. Different parts of people he had cared for, found in others here, in many ways. There hadn't been a group quite like this, this he knew. And he wondered why it was this special, and why they were here, and if it meant something. If the heavens above really did make the world go 'round, as so many believed. Or if they just sat and watched their science project run helter-skelter from tragedy to tragedy.

Out of all of them, though, it was perhaps Olivia that she reminded him of most, right now. Strong, intelligent, a bit short, and definitely a leader. Olive had been a far louder type, but she would've raced in that station wagon all the same. Small hands clutched on the wheel, fire in her eyes, laughing. She would've raced against Rhys with the same vibrancy, she would've smiled with her whole heart.

They even seemed to have similar taste in music, he thought. Judging from her new hooded sweatshirt.

That made a grin spread wide on his face, but his dark ocean eyes looked like something had cut deep inside, and twisted. These people were not the little ghosts from the past. This he knew. But he also knew that you found in others the things you enjoyed most from people you cared for. He circled the same aspects, because they were the brightest little lights, and he was a moth to the flame in their discourses and smiles.

It was strange to feel that you could care this much about relative strangers. But when the world is burnt to deep umbers and sopped with the thickets of blood and carnage, he guessed that maybe attachments happened fast.

Because one day you could be here, and the next, nothing.

A memory swept into his vision as he stared off into space for a few moments, painting the nothing around him, painting away the black of his soul and leaving a touch of bright, violent color. A bright little smile, small hands, the pink of her cheeks. Her hand in his own, the memory clouded over by light leaks of blue and peaches, yellows, and the green of leaves. Out of focus, she was speaking, and he couldn't quite understand it. She warbled phrases in her first language, her hair caught the air, and she smiled. God, this girl. The hauntings of before were getting worse. Now she came to him in flecks of mica and sunny days.

Maybe it wasn't all so metaphysical. Maybe he was just broken.

He looked off to the side and felt like he was holding his breath, but then Alaska returned, and his smile became as roses again, and his gaze soft.

''Like my new style?'' She showed off her hooded sweatshirt and he laughed. Inhaling his cigarette, he paused his answer before it rippled into the air, catching on lines of currents, dipping near a window to escape.

"It's awesome. That's ancient history, right there. That band's almost 100 years old," he said with a cat-like smirk, thinking on their shared anachronism. So out of time in this world of vast technological advances and advantages, and possibly more at home in a world broken down where the old became new, because everything different was new and golden...when most of it was dark and decaying by default.

The blond man took the sunglasses from his face and latched them over the neckline of his shirt, so they hung. He needed to be able to see better for this, if she'd let him help her.

"Let's get that fixed up. I know how to stitch people up pretty good, and quick, but it's going to make a fuckin' mess," he offered, leaning to let Alaska take his arm to lean on him if she agreed. If she didn't, he didn't mind, but his gaze was determned. There was no way it wasn't affecting her, and there was no way it was good to let the wound bleed out like a droplet of paint on the sweat-slicked canvas of her skin.

[/div][/div]
[div class=biggie]
[div class=speakeasy]“The man who has a conscience suffers whilst acknowledging his sin. That is his punishment.”[/div][/div]

[/div]

Kayden shrugged when the taller of the men pointed a gun to his face. 'Hands where I can see 'em kid!' As those words were spoken a gentle smile painted on Kayden's face. There was no way that a demon would call out such words. The attention he lured to himself was some kind of a foolish, yet clever test. And now he was 100% sure he could trust these people. Kayden wanted to show the two he didn't intend on doing them harm so he obeyed and raised his arms, when the man slightly lowered the weapon.

'Who are you?'

Ouch, that question. Kayden calculated in his mind whether to say his real name or build the walls around him. White lies weren't really lies, were they?

The freckled boy took a second look at the two. Was it possible for them to be hunters? Kayden couldn't risk it. He didn't think the people were bad, he just wasn't ready to reveal his true identity yet so the following words slipped through his lips, 'You can call me Jaemin,' an eerie smile painted on his face. 'I just wondered if you two needed any help. You seemed to be worn out.'
His eyes suddenly caught a glimpse of the men's injuries, a concerned look on his face.

Kayden turned his head down, rubbed his palms together to warm them a little and then sighed, 'It's cold today, don't you think?' He turned his head back to the guys, his lips creating a gentle smile.

Hell0NHighWater Lakyr

Terra

When Terra saw the cluster of kittens, his heart melted and wanted to keep them all. He had an obssession with cats when he was still small and up to now, he still loves them. He found a bag near him and decided to keep at least three of the kittens. Brown, black, or white, he loved each and every type of cat. He used to have a cat at Japan but it was not known by his parents since his parents always hated cats but for him, they were balls of cuteness and love. He never preferred dogs since they were too energetic for him to handle.

As he grabbed the kittens, he also noticed a board game. 'Betrayal at The House on The Hill? Well that's an odd name.', he thought to himself as he examined the board game, looking at it and judging it with his eyes. He decided to grab one copy of it since he could maybe find a person who is willing to play with him. As he explored the store, he found some more bag of chips and some tea bags which he took and store in his bag. The bag was quite spacious and still had a lot of space after he put the things inside. He transferred his items from his sling to the big bag but it was starting to feel heavy so he discarded things that he never used which solved the weight problem.

After the scavenge for supplies, he went back to the car. He then took out the board game and removed its plastic cover. He wondered what all the bits and pieces were for, he decided to look at the manual which came with the game pieces on how to play. He never understood a word it said but he just packed the game and returned it to his bag. Terra ate his two last biscuits since his stomach was feeling hungry and took his last sip of cold-brew tea that was now gone. He felt his stomach feel fine afterwards but he knew he had to save up on food.

James
Grumpy Guy Hell0NHighWater Newcomer Anise

"Alright, alright, I get it. No more moping. Now come here and let me show you how to do this before you lecture me to death." There it was a faint smile on Rhys' face and a short chuckle that left his mouth, all that James was trying to get from him. How have I changed into a happy guy so quickly? He couldn't stop himself from wondering. He crouched down beside Rhys and listened to his instructions, knowing how to do that correctly could come in handy someday. As a strangers voice appeared from behind he got up and turned around just as fast as the other man did. He saw Rhys pulling his gun out of the corner of his eye and he himself reached for the knife inside his jacket.

"Hands where I can see 'em kid."
James pointed towards Rhys saying, "Yeah, what he said." He just couldn't stop himself, still smiling. Damn, he had to get that off his face again somewhen but it felt so freaking good. The guy, Jaemin, wasn't seeking a fight apparently and that was a good thing. "I just wondered if you two needed any help. You seemed to be worn out." James grinned as he replied, "You should've seen the other guys." He just kept going and looked towards Rhys apologetically. It seemed like all he had kept back over the last two years was just bursting out right now whenever he saw an opportunity. He moved his eyes back towards the newcomer and put away his knife again. "Yeah, it's freezing, I'm James by the way and the grumpy guy is Rhys." James smiled brightly and glanced over towards his companion hoping to see a slight grin on his face too, before he held out his hand towards Jaemin, obviously revealing the hunters mark upon it. He never tried to hide it anyways.

Snapping her gaze towards the sound, Haruka found a girl with cocoa brown hair and hazel eyes, smiling at her. Tilting her head which made her hair fall to her face, Haruka rose her eyebrows at the girl. "Hey..."The girl said, smiling at her and brushing a lock of Haruka's hair behind her ear. "Hi?" Haruka said, blinking her eyes at the girl.

"Y'know, I don't think you'd want that..." The girl said, pointing at the box of ice cream. She also pointed at the jar of spaghetti sauce, cartons of milk, yogurt, waffle and the cheese which made Haruka's jaw drop. 'Seriously? Oh I did not just...yeah I just did, I didn't think that the food would be expired. I'm getting dumber as time pass' she thought, getting the yogurt that the girl mentioned and looking inside of it. 'Yikes' Haruka thought, looking inside of the yogurt. 'That smells bad' She thought, Throwing the food outside. "Heh..." Haruka said, looking at the girl with flushed cheeks. "Thank you" She said as her cheeks became hotter and hotter, each seconds pass. Taking out the waffles, ice cream, the jar of spaghetti sauce and the cartons of milk, she began to throw it outside. She also looked if any of the food she got is expired, to her suprise, none of them were expired. Stepping out of the car, Haruka smiled and faced the girl.

"That was kind of you" Haruka said, bowing down to the girl as a gratitude. Rising her head up, Haruka rub her nape and awkwardly laugh. " My name is Haruka Yagami, A pleasure to meet you".


'Dumbass~' a voice in Haruka's head said. 'Shut up, you' Haruka thought in irritation. Ever since she dreamt about the girl who looks like her, everytime Haruka closes her eyes, she sees her. She also speaks to her sometimes. Hiding her face in her bangs, Haruka's emerald green eyes became darker and colder. 'Playing to be an normal innocent girl, Huh? YOU PSYCHO ' a voice in her head said in an Insane voice. 'Me? A psycho? Talk about yourself. I may have voices in my head but that doesn't make me a psycho' Haruka talked back, clenching her hands behind her back and smiling cheerfully at the girl. 'Of course, still denial as always~ but remember, I am you, you are me. I am the brain and you are the body, We are one and I'm not a personality disorder. YOU know you can't function without me'

Blinking her eyes, Haruka's dark cold eyes become normal. She then gave the girl a big bright smile and continuously thank the brunette. 'No need to tell me something I already know, Inner-chan'

Lekiel

[class=biggie] width: 100%; max-width:1200px; margin: 0 auto; text-align: center; clear:both; font-size:12px; color: #140033; font-weight:100; background: #fff;
[/class] [class=whut] background: #fff;[/class] [class=handsomedevil] background: #fff; text-align: center; width:30%; margin: 0 auto; float:left; padding:10px; color: #140033; font-weight:100; [/class] [class=speakeasy] letter-spacing: 3px; word-spacing: 2px; border-bottom: solid 10px #140033; text-align: center; font-size:10px; background: #fafafa; padding:30px; color: #140033; font-weight:100; [/class] [class=speaks] padding:15px; text-align: left; float:right; width:65%; background: #fff;[/class]
[div class=whut]
[div class=biggie]
[div class=speakeasy]
“To go wrong in one's own way is better than to go right in someone else's.”[/div]

[div class=handsomedevil]


NIKLAS LIAM VOSS

[div class=speakeasy]LOCATION:xxxx Amish-ass Market Situation

OOC:xxxx If Alaska sings along I'll be so smitten.
TAGS:xxxx Chise_Robin_
BGM:xxxxROCKY HORROR PICTURE SHOW - SCIENCE FICTION DOUBLE FEATURE



[/div]
[/div][div class=speaks]
"you sound just like Alexander" Alaska said with her continence shifting for just a moment. As though she, too, had memories hidden along the way of her winding journey, like little wooden, inlayed boxes of emotions that were painful, but maybe there were also good memories. Stuck in the crevices of those time capsules from the life before. Things she could hold tightly to, and maybe they'd play a smile on her face. Or they were perhaps not soothsayers for a heavy heart, and maybe they wounded with each still-frame in her mind.

He didn't want to pry just yet, but he did want to get to know his home-state better. He filed away that name in the recesses of his mind, to pull out later when they were perhaps not so wounded. At a time of rest, where the rawness of the physical pain she was feeling didn't have the option of making her heart tender.

She took his hand, and he held that hand with a gentleness, like he would Olivia and the other little brush-stroked ghosts of the time before, in smiles and warm memories, of foggy days near lakes, and roadtrips with hands strewn out windows and screams of joy. Murmurs of the heart he tried to keep with him, in all this pitch darkness. Without it, he would've wandered over the line ages ago. Their stories kept him grounded. And now he was building new stories, with new people, to keep him here. As long as he could stay, he would stay.

But it was there, always, like a relentless gnawing in his bones.

"You can stitch?" she asked, some surprise in her voice.
"Yeah. I suck at most things, but I can stitch. I've had to do it for myself more times than I can count, since I can be a little bit....reckless." Nik's smile broadened, reckless was quite possibly not the correct word, but it was the word he'd use for now. His darkness was a great deal deeper than she knew, or the others knew, and so he would keep it safe, and let it crawl around inside his chest, marveling at the pure beauty of an open wound.

Twisted in his own way, for all this death and carnage, but still able to play a smile and enjoy kind words, soft hands, sweetness. A dichotomy that he was aware he possessed, and knew himself to be a danger to the others in some way, and yet they didn't see it. He was good at keeping the coiled viper in his veins at bay. Because thoughts were just thoughts, feelings were just feelings, and you could choose to embolden them or ignore them, like passing bits of ash, instead focusing on the glow of lit snow across the horizon, and not the scent of death and fire, not the brimstone, not the heat that damage brought in an ache.

"just please try not to ruin this shirt though, it's beautiful! And God knows when we'll get another change of clothes"
"Clothes are clothes. You can always find more...but you can't find people again." He said solemnly, helping Alaska into the chair. He ashed out his cigarette as best he could on a small pencil holder and set it aside. This would be difficult as he'd more or less have to be kneeling or laying in a weird position, but he was willing to try it. Placing the small med-kit from his backback on the cashier's table, he also unearthed a fishing wire, took his lighter from his back pocket, and prepared to get to work.

"Hey Nik...thank you...uhm, if I curse please don't take it personally!"
"I won't. Swearing is cathartic, and hearing you belt out some obscenities would be fuckin' hilarious," he said with a mischievous grin. Nik produced a pair of small, sharp scissors which gleamed in the light. With careful hands, as gentle as possible, warm and insistent, he cut through the bottom of Alaska's pants. He was smart about all this, and didn't want to risk infection, so he found a pair of thin latex gloves in the little medical kit. The wonders of modern technology, and still gloves were probably one of the keenest inventions man had made. With a snap on his wrist, his smile grew broad. He was instantly reminded of that ancient flick Rocky Horror Picture Show.

What a pair they were, he was sure she'd get the joke, knowing her personality and interests.

First came the needle, he set it above his flame, fingers far away but still warming and licking heat from the metal. Then came the wire, which he cut and looped, threading the needle. There was a little bottle of disinfectant there, which he used liberally on that wire, and then he looked at her wound to assess the situation.

It was a gnarled bit of flesh, not horribly deep, but deep enough that she'd probably have the scar for the rest of her life. He was a bit worried about the infection that may result. With the disinfectant in one hand, Nik tried his hand at distracting her.

"And this is how the message ran..."

Then came a bit of antiseptic, because he wasn't having her get fucking gangrene or some shit or contracting sepsis because he botched this up.

"Science fiction...Double feature..." he hummed under his breath, then sopped on the wound with the acrid disinfectant which he was sure would make her scream. Leveling her leg directly on the table adjacent the pair, he instructed her to point her toes down to brace, so he could get at her ankle. This was going to hurt his neck, but he managed to crouch down beneath her, face the wound, and get to work. This was going to hurt her, and him. He'd need someone to crack his back later.

Without warning he began, and went to work, needle through the skin, making sure to get down to the dermis that would allow him to piece together the wound and not leave spaces where random shit could get into it.

"Doctor X...will build a creature..." he grinned as he did his work. This would be undoubtedly painful, but he was trying his best to make it quick, do a good job with her injury, and distract her. He swiveled to get a better angle, and realize that he was quite possibly getting old, because that once proud back that could carry an ocean of supplies was now screaming at the position his neck was in.

"See androids fighting...Brad and Janet..." he was almost done with his work, just a little longer. It was an uninterrupted stitch, at a shallow angle, with economical movements that were primed to make sure the wound would close and stay closed, even if one of the stitches failed. Then came the final enclosure, possibly the most painful, and he worked as quickly as he could with another round of acrid disinfectant, binding up the wound with gauze, wrapping it tightly but not too tightly, and securing it.

"There you go, Janet. We're all set." He sat back on his feet, angling away from her leg, and stood. Putting away his equipment, he doused the needle with disinfectant again, sterilized it, took his gloves off, and shot them into a small trash can.

Then he rubbed the back of his neck. Damn small-ass girl and her tiny leg length, he would have a crick for the entire drive.


[/div][/div]
[div class=biggie]
[div class=speakeasy]“The man who has a conscience suffers whilst acknowledging his sin. That is his punishment.”[/div][/div]

[/div]

James. The man instantly crawled under Kayden's skin. He was such a sassy cinnamon roll. And that remark about Rhys... Spot on boy.
Kayden's eyes started watering. Why did he have to come across these guys. Why was this James so similar to a person he once knew. The person he loved with his whole heart and swore to protect with his own life. 'Sorry', the word echoed through his head. 'It should have been me. I was never welcomed to this planet. I should be the one getting the bullet into my head. I'm sorry, so sorry I couldn't save you.' Kayden clinched to his chest, heavy breathing. The view of James suddenly became too painful for Kayden to bare, forcing him to turn his head down.

'Yeah, Rhys really seems like a grumpy OLD man, ' Kayden sniggered. He wanted to distract himself although he knew it wasn't really clever to mess around with the boss.

When James held his hand out at him a hunter's mark came to the daylight. Kayden's eyes widened. He didn't know what to think. The brat seemed OK, but can he really, really trust them? Eh, fuck it. He held his left hand out to James. Whoops. Then he realized not everybody is left handed, and quickly corrected himself.

If people payed attention, that was the moment they could see the same mark as James' on Kayden's left hand. It was funny actually how Kayden, now when he saw the mark, felt even closer to the brat. A strange yet reasonable thought came to his mind, 'Fuck me, I have to protect this little cinnamon roll now.' He grinned as he shook James' hand and threw a playful smile at Rhys. He hoped the guy didn't take his words about the grumpy old man too seriously. He then glanced back at Jammies, 'You sure you're OK? You look pretty bad.'

Hell0NHighWater Lakyr

[div class=wrapper][div class=box][div class="boxBg boxBgLarge"][/div][div class="boxBg boxBgTall"][/div][div class="boxBg boxBgMedium"][/div][div class=boxInner][div class=statusBox][div class=characterPortrait]

[/div][div class=statusText] General store --> The Monmouth County Sheriff’s Office and Police Academy
Tags: Jammies Lakyr Jaemin? That's sus Anise
Mentions: The merry band of misfits (everyone)
BGM: Black Holes
[/div][/div][div class=title]Rhys Contiello[/div][div class=text]
Rhys glanced over, his face cast as dead-pan as he could manage. His right brow ticked upward and the corner of his would-be somber lips moved into a crease of amusement. His arms folded automatically across his chest, shirt straining slightly as the muscles in his forearms became more prominent from the action. Grumpy wasn't the first word he would have called himself. Maybe something more along the lines of 'irresistibly stoic', but never grumpy. That made him sound like one of those old grandpa type who yelled at kids to get off the lawn.

The amusement from James's comment rapidly transferred into one of utter exasperation. Baby-blues shifted towards the heavens for a second before his eyelids fell shut. A breath of air huffed from his lips and his head shook slightly. His left hand came up to pinch the bridge of his nose lightly before looking over at this Jaemin kid. "Way to make me sound like a curmudgeon." The grumbled statement was more to himself than to the boys. Unfolding his arms, Rhys gave Jaemin another once over as he interacted with James. At least the two of them seemed to get along. He wasn't sure how he was supposed to feel about this kid walking up from who knows where and what...offering help? If the kid was a demon --which he highly doubted because he couldn't sense anything-- then what would happen to the group if he took him back there? What if he hurt James or Alaska or Haruka? What if he hurt Nik? Rhys' head swam with questions, too many voices of his subconscious speaking at the same time.

He glanced towards the gas can and the half rigged siphon set-up they had going. Another pair of eyes, another mouth to feed, another aid in a fight. There were a bunch of issues that could come of having a group this big. Someone could do something stupid and get them all killed...but there was also a certain safety in numbers. From the way he asked about James's injury....well, he was either genuine in his concern or probing for weakness.
He's like 5'10", Rhys, what's he gonna do?
His lips flattened into a thin line. It wasn't like him to underestimate...but the guy didn't look much younger than him and....
Rhys let out another sigh, now moving back to the siphon that had been waiting there patiently for him to blow it.
"Once we get gas this gas," --he paused to suck on the tube, promptly cough up a lung while placing the other end of the tube in the canister-- "we'll be heading out. If you want to come with us you are more than welcome to. I've got some room in my truck, it might be cramped for a while, but we'll stop someplace for the night."

Rhys spoke as the gas tank filled, face morphed into an expression of pure disgust as he watched that amber liquid drain into the can. There wasn't a lot from this car, but it wasn't like they had a lot of time to go off finding other vehicles to pillage. Standing, he screwed the cap in place before picking up the tube. The ex-cop looked at the young man expectantly, not answering that comment about the weather. It was cold as balls and he would rather get into the truck. At least it was warmer in there than it was out here.

His shoulders moved in a half shrug, "You can come with us or go your own way. Not that it matters to an old man like me."

His attention turned to James then, a glint of dark amusement entering his azure gaze. "Let's go, sass-master. I'm getting grumpier by the second."
With that, he headed off back towards the store, the snow crunching softly under his boots.
A part of him was a little annoyed with himself that he didn't take the opportunity to grab a new shirt (or a new pair of pants for that matter) but gas was almost more important at this point than him looking less like a disheveled biker. Rhys ran a hand across his jaw, noting the stubble that brushed against the tips of his fingers with mild disdain. His eyes drifted towards the teen walking beside him, a slight smirk crossing his lips as he all but shoved the gas canister into his arms.

"Here, carry this for your elder." He laughed a little under his breath, ruffling his dark brown hair in a good-natured display of teasing. Rhys looked over to see Jaemin following and shot him a slight smile as well.
It seemed like most of the group was in the store still, save for Haruka who was lingering by the Station Wagon.
Rhys took the canister back from the teenage sass-master, hauling it into the back of the truck with retaliative ease. He was surprised to see the amount of bags. Relief flooded through him and the whale mating noise his stomach made reminded him that food was a necessity.

"James, do me a favor and run in and tell the group to saddle up. It's time to hit the road."
Rhys waited a second for the nodded to confirm he understood before looking over at Jaemin with a raised brow. He pointed a thumb to the back seat.
"Hop in." With that, Rhys slid into the driver's seat.

⊰~❇~⊱​

They had been driving for an hour almost. It had been packed with more cringe worthy music that was centuries old and some snarky comments between the part-time angel driver and quasi-devil riding shot gun. The scene might have been comical even. But as Rhys pulled up to an abandoned building with an all too familiar logo attached, it seemed like ice pumped itself into his veins. He hadn't stepped foot in a police station in a while and the fact that this was where they were now caused a wave of nostalgia to crash through him. Rhys had loved being a detective. It was his life. Sure, there were cases that still haunted him to this day, but he had been in love with his job more than anything else. Or, at least that's what Monica complained about. Funny how when someone dies you never really think about those arguments or the nights where you were locked out of your own apartment.

He shut the truck off with a sigh, watching as the motorcycles pulled up to one side and the station wagon on the other. A couple police cars sat decaying in the lot beside them and Rhys made a mental note to check them for gas later. Hopping out of the truck, he pulled the sunglasses off his face in order to peer up at that looming 'Monmouth County Sheriff' sign. It was worn by the weather, the blue faded almost to a dark grey, and patches of snow clung to the badge symbol. Azure orbs moved down to the wide set of double doors. They didn't look like they had been disturbed...which hopefully meant the security was still functional. He took a quick glance at the rest of the group as they clambered out of their respective vehicles. "I'll see if I can get the doors--"

Rhys was cut off by the sound of an approaching vehicle, gaze narrowing at the large jeep as it pulled into the lot as well. His lips pressed into a firm line, looking from the military grade truck to the dark clouds that swarmed ominously above them.

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[/div][div class=statusText]Location: The Monmouth County Sheriff’s Office and Police Academy
Tags: Lekiel Hell0NHighWater [/div][/div][div class=title]Emma Treadstone[/div][div class=text]
Pulling up with Reverie next to Rhys' truck, Emma ran a hand through her wind-tousled hair and regarded the building with a sense of foreboding. It was a nice distraction, given how distracting Reverie herself had been. Scavenging for food at their last location had been reasonably productive but Emma had to admit the new black windbreaker/white tank top look was a good look on her brunette driver. That she'd noticed her driver like that, noticed what she wore, was a reminder that her focus wasn't where it should be, though.

This stop was an opportunity to do better. And yet, as Emma slid off the motorcycle seat behind Reverie, she pressed a hand against the small of the other woman's back in an affectionate 'thank you' before she actually said "Thank you for driving, Reverie." The redhead's blue eyes gleamed faintly with gold as she smiled. "I'm going to check the station out with Rhys there. If you'd like to hang back here and keep a watch out, you can." Implicit in her left-hanging words was an unspoken invitation that Reverie would be welcome if she wished to come along.

And then before this latest exchange could dizzy her more than the others had, Emma walked up to Rhys' side and gave the police building the same scrutiny. "If you get the doors, I'll see if I notice anything inside before they open. I've started noticing them, more and more lately. It might help-"

And then her attention went to the military truck as well. One hand went down to the pistol she kept in her winter coat's pocket. The other hand, well, she just kept it warm.

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Location:
Police HQ parking lot
Tags: @Basically Everyone
Mentions:
The group, police hq
Companions:
Darius
Velska

[div class=magical][/div]
[/div][/div][div class=title]SALVADORE GRIGORI[/div][div class=text]

Thick, heavy, military tires treaded upon the driven snow, the lines of the armored humvee's wheels obscuring the convoy's own. Obfuscating their way out among the growing snow fall. Its light cut through swathes of obscured vision from falling frost. And as the roar of the powerful engine grumbled and bellow it stopped halted. Its floodlight headlights glaring at the group before them...

Darius and Velska begun to make preparations, the group before them could assault them, open fire at the moments notice--they had to be prepared. Darius, look toward the group in passionate thrill. "Fighting them wouldn't be too hard huh pops?", he patted the driver seat of the humvee as sarcastic gallows humor jabbed at their unfavorable odds. He was the only one among them that favored the humor, Velska gripped her Glock M19 handgun, a standard marine issue and once Grigori's sidearm. She was diminutive compared to the other two--however she has been trained to use firearms rather expertly. She had clean that gun, assembled, disassembled, reassembled, shot, loaded, and fired again this weapon more than enough times to consider it her own. It was an extension over her very will to live, and her means to defend it.

"Body Armor.", Darius looked to his adoptive sibling with growing concern.
"Check.", Velska replied with immediacy.
"Loaded?"
"Check."
"Safety."
"Off."
"Radio?", Darius clipped on a military grade survival radio onto his clothes. Tuning the exact frequency specified by Grigori. As Grigori prepared himself, he listened to the efficiency in which they worked. Pride. A strange paternal pride made its way within his thoughts. Assured him of their survival. Velska had rustled around the rations, giving them a proper bag to carry in.
"Check." She triumphantly displayed as she pointed towards the rugged device slipped to her own body armor. A small, but coy smile appeared. Darius, gave a small 'hmph', and continued forward. Slowly he looked towards the the group from the frosted windshield. Murmuring a count aloud. The more he counted the less his voice ebbed next to Grigori's ear. It did not worry him much, if the group was smart they wouldn't waste a fight against a military combat vehicle and presumably armed individuals, not during this weather. And even with them stepping out there would be very little of a desire to waste on helpful humans rather than demonic hordes. Some of the group looked fresh out of college, even highschool. A few others looked trained, despited the way they carried themselves. Grigori felt a small curiosity from such a cavalcade.

"I'm counting at least 12 - 13 in the convoy. Mixed aged range. Weapons hot too. Did they really drive in this weather in bikes? What are they fucking madmen? They're lucky no one ambushed them and picked those folks off first." Darius assessed and analyzed the situation, Grigori was training observation with Darius--it was catching on rather well....
"I recommend leaving from the back, using the back to exit and doors as covers."Seems like tactics have begun to reach him as well. Swelling pride.

"No need. Would have gone into combat ready postions if they wanted to. Less a threat, more unexpected addition." Grigori looked towards the front door of the building. Closed. They had yet to scavenge the place, yet to step in. Yet to clear out whatever hid in dark shadows. If anything the addition of more guns was easier for them. Mutual interests in survival--why kill a rival when they could work with you against a common issue? Tale as old as human interests....

As the lights flash off, Grigori and his children exit the vehicle. Combat boots on the ground, the sound of gear jostling and clicking together as they exit the vehicle. From the back of the truck Grigori left first. Holstered to him was a were a large survivalist axe and machete, carbon black and sheathed to his leathery longcoat, billowing in the piercing winds.. He crunched snow on combat boots, heavy with steel toes. And in his hand a beast of a handgun, a carbon fiber black death dealer. Its recognizable silhouette stood out from the imposing body of Grigori. Attached to it was a flashlight. A Desert Eagle with expanded clips. Too accustomed, too personalized. It was his before the world became hell itself. A history. A gun that had more years with him than the child brandishing an arm next to him. He was a killer, no doubt about it.

The two children took military style tactics into their following of their father, covering each flank. Darius brandishing a marksman's rifle the only one among them and Velska with her trusted Glock m19.

Grigori held up a single arm to his side as he walked, open palm. The gait in which he walked seemed to carry a dread behind it. Before he touched the inner line of sight of the group he stopped. Each fallen flakes of snow boomed with swelling tension as the silence permeated the scene. And from that silence a growlng, snarling, voice emerged--no malicious intent, but the deeper form of it imposed the history of the owner's foreboding presence....

"We mean no harm. Storm coming, looking for a place to hold out. Scavenge any supplies we can, leave when the blizzard passes. My kids, they need shelter." Grigori declared his intent with the grumbling of his voice. And for that briefest of moments the silence returned as he crept forward, as did the children. A dark skinned boy nearing his father's height, and a small stoic girl--no older than 15--became his shadows as he lurched forward on his path to the door. Passing those around him with not the faintest of cares. Until he came to Rhys.

"Salvadore Grigori", the winds chilled harshly as he left forth his named the the blessed man, "May I?", he asked to join with such unnerving and assured confidence. His face dark in ways not in color, but in soul. With the gouge of scar trailing from his lower forehead, across his eye and trailing off his cheek. He looked at Rhys with dark brown eyes, almost as if there was no discernable color transition from pupil. He was handsome, perhaps not to the ideal state of Rhys's own visage, but a rugged and masculine face. A soldier, and one that refused to die more times than the apocalypse and hell gates have had thrown so far. His hair, a stark white with sliver hues. He seemed no older than his late 30's, but the snow like hair clashed with the perceptions. His posture, soldier-like--he definitely was in the military.

He waited for the door to open, the children by his side--who was this man?.

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Haruka, who was sitting in the back of the car, looked at Rhys who was talking with a man. Behind him were two childrens, standing pround and tall like a soldier. Looking at the man, Haruka groaned and decided he is dangerous, with those K.I oozing off and those posture of him, it felt like he is ready to kill anyone in the group. 'go hide under this car, hold your guns up and aim for the feet. Don't trust them, They are dangerous' A voice lingered inside her mind. 'I know' Haruka coldly replied to her inner, getting out of the car and hiding herself under it. 'Ready your dagger, hold your FN P90 and make sure to hide yourself carefully' A voice said in Haruka's mind.

"tsk" Haruka 'tsked' as she hid under the car and gun aimed at the man's feet. Haruka's sharp eyes never left the man's feet and Her ears open for their conversation.

"-mean no harm. Storm coming, looking for a place to hold out. Scavenge any supplies we can, leave when the blizzard passes. My kids, they need shelter" the man's rough voice declared, as he took a step forward along with the two, making Haruka tensed up. 'fingers on trigger, be ready' Inner said, making Haruka do what she said.

"Salvador Grigori" The man said, as his feet came to a stop. "May I?" He asked with confidence.

Haruka eyes flickered to the side as she saw a pale feet behind Rhys. 'Focus on the target's feet' Inner said, making Haruka tense as she heard her serious voice.

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[/class] [class=whut] background: #fff;[/class] [class=handsomedevil] background: #fff; text-align: center; width:30%; margin: 0 auto; float:left; padding:10px; color: #140033; font-weight:100; [/class] [class=speakeasy] letter-spacing: 3px; word-spacing: 2px; border-bottom: solid 10px #140033; text-align: center; font-size:10px; background: #fafafa; padding:30px; color: #140033; font-weight:100; [/class] [class=speaks] padding:15px; text-align: left; float:right; width:65%; background: #fff;[/class]
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“To go wrong in one's own way is better than to go right in someone else's.”[/div]

[div class=handsomedevil]


NIKLAS LIAM VOSS

[div class=speakeasy]LOCATION:xxxx The Po-po station.

OOC:xxxx
TAGS:xxxxOpen~
BGM:xxxxSTILL CORNERS - THE TRIP



[/div]
[/div][div class=speaks]

''I think i'll never sing this song again without my leg shooting up in pain....Thank you....Please knock me out with the back of a gun should we have to do that again''
Alaska had played along with his antics, which had made him laugh until he couldn't laugh anymore, and each tilt of a belted expression of joy became as nothing in the air, his mouth making the motions, but his throat refusing to make the sounds. The truest laugh, the silent one, with your eyes crinkling and filled with tears. He ended it with a short, curt chuckle, and wiped his eyes dramatically.

She was a riot. But he couldn't promise her that he'd knock her out next time. He may have very well put her in a sleeper hold, but he wasn't about to bash her in the back of the head. Even if she was joking, he vowed to never lay a hand on her in aggression. Unless...he wasn't himself. Nik's grin wavered in that moment of thought, like a sharp puncture wound to the chest, right above the heart. That familiar ache of panic fluttering in, letting him know that it was still there, in case he was forgetting just how much emotional bullshit he was putting on the back-burner. Then it died away, and the grin resumed.

He wouldn't be able to put up this brave front forever. No one can, not in the face of what they carry. Not when what they carry is so heavy.

"I'll knock you out, I promise. Or get you some kind of pain killer...but I told you it'd suck," he said, helping her down from her chair. They'd leave soon enough, but Nik made sure of course to snatch his still-good cigarette, nab his brand new backpack, and head off. He checked his pocket for the thin necklace he had found, and resolved his next step, if the time should arise where he and the silver witch managed to foster an actual human conversation.

Nik didn't want to leave behind any unfinished business. He was pragmatic. Inevitably it'd all go south, so he wanted to take what formative actions he could to leave the world slightly better than he left it...before he had crashed into peoples' lives.

He paused before entering the truck with Terra, Haruka, Rhys and a newcomer, and turned to look at Alaska one more time. He gave her a wink and shifted into the truck, to resume their journey.

He'd slouch down in his seat, banter filling the air which was a comfort for him, and listen to the cloying—but perfect—tunes from days long since passed. He didn't know quite what, if anything, James had said to Rhys, but he seemed in different spirits. Not possessing so many rough edges, or at least not currently in plain sight. That man could be barbed wire even when he wasn't saying anything at all.

Haruka seemed to have gotten in with a bounty, which put Nik at ease for the future of his new comrades. He hoped she had grabbed some good stuff, because he felt they'd desperately need it.

They had a newcomer, and Nik introduced himself with his customary devilish grin, by name. Their group of misfits had grown larger. And yet the only thing he could think about in the moment of meeting this newcomer—Jaemin—was that he hoped it would last. Nik hoped he'd be able to fight this for long enough that he'd get to know more about Alaska's "Alexander", and more about everyone.

In that thought, he mulled over his lower lip with his teeth, and drew his deep blue eyes to the man now driving the vehicle. Then out the window, to look at the sun as it cast through flecks of snow. Pale white, almost blue, and then lemon-yellow. They seemed to fall heavier somehow, dropping more quickly, but beautiful none-the-less.

Terra was as quiet as ever, and he tried to make a joke about that at some point, but they were already here. At their destination, after an hour of driving.

Nik emerged from the truck, stretching his arms over his head and twisting his torso. What he wouldn't have given for a solid mattress right now. Downy fucking sheets. A comforter, something soft and warm. He didn't know how the others didn't seem to have these screaming back muscles, considering many slept against walls and in awkward positions. He guessed once the adrenaline of daily stresses wore off, they were out like a light. He was an expert at shoving that shit away, so it had less of an effect on him.

Or maybe it affected him all the same, and his back was where the tension lived, in strained muscles. In any case, he wanted to sleep, to stuff his face, to smoke his cigarette, and recline in softness, somewhere comfortable and gentle. He imagined that Diana, had she lived, would have placed his head on her lap to sleep. He wanted that closeness, even in this world of fire, brimstone, prophets, hunters, demons and angels.

A man could hope for the luxuries of the past, certainly. And closeness was, indeed, a luxury.

The cigarette he had saved went right back into his mouth, the light of the lighter casting primrose yellow and calypso orange over his features, snow fluttering from above to land in his hair and on his shoulders.

"I'll see if I can get the doors--" Rhy's sentence was cut short by a jeep that approached. Nik didn't say anything, thinking on just how Rhys was going to get them past the security, and just let the smoke stream from his nose and into the air. Obscuring his face at times, a golden line peeking through to outline his jaw and the side of his nose. He flicked ash on the ground and watched with clear eyes. A severe looking man with two youths, also severe looking in the way they were aware of their surroundings and primed for attention, were standing before them. His dark blue eyes grazed over them, zeroing in on how their gaits informed their inclinations, until it rested on the man.

Something about him was unnerving. It was perhaps the slice over his features like mountainscapes, the intense shock of aged hair—tusk in shades near his features and downy white in the light of a striking sun that was slipping into cornfield gold. It could have also simply been that Nik was understanding just how much this man had sacrificed to keep his kids alive. In a place like this, keeping family close seemed almost impossible. Nik respected that, but was wary enough to hang back and cast a mute expression from behind a cigarette.

"We mean no harm. Storm coming, looking for a place to hold out. Scavenge any supplies we can, leave when the blizzard passes. My kids, they need shelter." Nik raked his slate-blue eyes across the scene of the younger ones in his charge, and the man who stood with a self-assured, confident stance. A stance denoting the power beneath his skin. The blond rascal was nothing if not capable of reading people in some way. No matter how cloistered they may be.

"Salvadore Grigori. May I?" Ultimately this would be Rhys' call. He was their fearless leader after all. Nik inhaled smoke through his cigarette and from his nose and looked to their leader for an answer, but a knowing look in his eyes that spelled, in no uncertain terms If things go sideways, you know I'm here. It wasn't that Nik was inherently distrusting. Far, far from it. It was that their jeep was decked to the nines, and the way they stood, and a certain arrogant affect from Grigori that painted him as a man who, in no small way, thought he had nothing to fear from their group of 10+ people.

That took a level of confidence that would need to be backed up to hold any weight in this new land of fresh hell and ripe corpses. Nik gave a mute smile, the corner of his mouth tilting ever so slightly. The smile grew to something warm and pleasant, but not as transparent as usual, not as broad and beaming. Not like with the others.

If Rhys was trusting, Nik was trusting. Plus, the man was thinking of his kids, first and foremost. He could respect that.

He said nothing, and waited for their leader's good word in thick silence.

[/div][/div]
[div class=biggie]
[div class=speakeasy]“The man who has a conscience suffers whilst acknowledging his sin. That is his punishment.”[/div][/div]

[/div]

Terra

There he sat inside the vehicle, hoping that the world will become a better place by everyone's standards. As Terra was thinking about every possible situation that may happen in every location possible, he felt something in the air which made him feel at unease and raise his guard up. The aura of the location was something evil that he had never experienced before, 'Multiple demons? Well that's an interesting situation.', he thought as he examined the building with his crimson red eyes, thinking that there may be multiple enemies inside the station.

He heard a car roll up at the police academy. It was a military jeep that was a bit old but its noise was loud. There was no aura coming from the driver of the jeep including its passenger but he noticed something off, 'The white haired woman? I thought she was with us the whole time.', as he saw the girl's aura emanating off of her. The driver of the car was quite tall. He seemed to look serious with his whole appearance but this did not intimidate Terra as he looked at him with a positive look. 'A man with a troubled past? Ex-military who is stuck with two teenagers? How peculiar, I wonder what's up with him but whatever.', Terra thought to himself as he smiled and chuckled to himself. "Salvadore Grigori, May I?", the man said as Terra looked at his bag to check on his three little kittens. They were all still fine with their button eyes intact and their ice cream look still fresh. Chocolate, Vanilla, and Strawberry were their names as it was said on their tags. All of them were just an ice cream scoop with a cat face and a cherry on top but this was enough to get Terra's attention. He continued to look at the man, wondering if he is an ally or a foe. He saw Haruka with a weird look on her face as she focused on something but he just brushed it off as nothing.

░ CHAPTER TWO ░

The Long Dark​

❝ hell doesn’t always come with fire and brimstone. sometimes it arrives on pillars of frost, icy wind gales, and a snowy hellscape. winter has once again rolled around and this time, the blizzard that follows seems more preternatural than anything that should be on earth. with temperatures constantly below freezing, snowdrifts that could easily bury someone alive, shorter days, and the sun hidden behind dark clouds during the day, this hellish blizzard threatens all who are caught unprepared. ”

▻ OBJECTIVES
Group Objective: Survive the winter. The Monmouth County Sheriff’s Office and Police Academy seemed like a good to restock and fortify for a while. But the group never expected to be snowed in, nor for the cold to be just another element they’d have to learn to survive. They may be here for a while, with very limited access to the surrounding area without long treks in the snow, which can bank sometimes higher than their heads. Do they wait out the winter here? Do they try to find shelter elsewhere? How do they survive this long, dark winter ahead of them?

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[/div][div class=statusText] Location: The Monmouth County Sheriff’s Office and Police Academy
Tags: Axeman's shorter but scarier brother CupAndCough | Fire Mom Epiphany | Wise Witch Lekiel
Mentions: Nik | Stella
BGM: More to Life
[/div][/div][div class=title]Rhys Contiello[/div][div class=text]
Breath pale against the numbing air, he blinked thoughtfully as the frost patiently kissed his face, every tendril of various shades of incandescent striking white-blue refracted in his eyes as if a blizzard were eternally raging on with a black void in the center. Those light defying blues focused sharply on the bear of a man who had removed himself from the truck. His head was half turned towards his female counter-part, prepared to have given her a response to her suggestion. Yet they had both seemed to be caught up with the arrival of that Humvee (decked to the nines with the kind of gear Rhys would have given his left arm for). A part of his brain that was still on the topic wanted to know more about what Emma meant when she said she 'noticed them'. He wasn't sure if it was demonic energies she was referring to or not, but it wasn't like he had the time to ask.

Rhys's left hand twitched towards his gun, thumb deftly popping the holster clip. He didn't automatically draw his weapon --mainly because this man looked like he could punch the crap out of him if he missed-- and there wasn't enough ammo for him to waste on foolish fights. It was better to save the ammunition for the real threats. So until these people proved themselves to be detrimental to the safety of these people, it was smarter to stay diplomatic than go out guns blazing. The corner of his mouth twitched a little as the thought of his old partner crossed his mind, a detective with the same kind of bear-man frame and the ability to lecture for hours.

"Salvadore Grigori, May I?"
He had always known that demons were not the only monsters in this world.
Years of seeing brutal murders done at the hands of a fellow human had tainted any fantasy he had as a kid.
Death was no stranger to the angelic detective.
But looking into this man's dead brown eyes...it reminded him of all those men --all those monsters-- he had sat across from in an interrogation room.

His gaze flickered past the man who called himself Salvadore Grigori, looking now to the children who didn't look any less imposing than their 'father'.
"It would do better to prove your point of meaning no harm, if your children weren't dangling their digits so close to those shooters.... just saying." Reverie's voice carried across the parking lot as she made her way over in their direction. Even though Rhys refused to move his eyes from the hulk in front of him, he acknowledged her comment with a ghost of a smirk. Rhys stood there, toe to toe, with this guy for what seemed like a mini eternity. The detective had an inch on him maybe, but what Rhys didn't have was the sheer mass. Grigori was stocky in the way Rhys wasn't, which was saying something considering that Rhys wasn't exactly a noodle. Neither men seemed to wilt under the other's stare, as if some form or silent communication was happening through the span of a double edged glare.

It was Reverie's voice that got him to concede.
The wind began to pick up and it bit sharply at his features. Above, the sky darkened and it stuck Rhys that now was probably not the time to be doing....whatever this square off was. Blue eyes darted to Reverie, watching as she went to peer in through the tiny windows of the front door.

"Identification, please." A computerized voice whirled, the panel on the door next to where Reverie stood began to spark a dull orange. Rhys moved quicker than lightening. He brushed past Stella, grabbing Reverie and moving her out of the way of the 'eye'.

"Detective Emrys Conteillo, NYPD, Badge number: 14188." He rushed out, watching as the machine whirled and a bit of panic stirred in his chest. If he had already been wiped from the system prior...this wouldn't work. He'd be fried to a crisp and no one would be able to get in. Not without busting the wards. There was a quiet buzzing sound followed by the front door lock releasing.

"Authorization granted. Welcome, Detective."

Rhys visibly relaxed, letting Reverie's shoulder go as he cast her a sideways look. "For future reference, Government buildings always have the warding on the side panel. If you stand too close, you'll trigger it."
Clearing his throat, he looked back towards the rest of the people standing there. His gaze fixated on a pair of dark blue eyes before they made their way back towards Emma. "How about you guys grab everything out of the cars? That weather doesn't look like something we should get caught up in." He paused for a moment, looking back to Grigori. Rhys made a gesture to the now open door, "I'll cover your six."

There was no way he was trusting this guy to go in behind him. Something about him was just....off and although Rhys would remain neutral, he would find out what this guy was hiding sooner or later.

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