Living Through to Tomorrow

[Raneth]

Private RP between Elemental Son and myself, set in the universe of

The Walking Dead

.



Name: Cameron Shields


Age: 25


Appearance:


<p><a href="<fileStore.core_Attachment>/monthly_2014_07/face_practice_4_by_timmi_o_tool-d591jci.jpg.6bcc3a4bc8f0d29d0cc0a4e368d92bb4.jpg" class="ipsAttachLink ipsAttachLink_image"><img data-fileid="25020" src="<fileStore.core_Attachment>/monthly_2014_07/face_practice_4_by_timmi_o_tool-d591jci.jpg.6bcc3a4bc8f0d29d0cc0a4e368d92bb4.jpg" class="ipsImage ipsImage_thumbnailed" alt=""></a></p>


Cameron stands at a height of five feet and eight inches, with an athletic build. Her clothing consists of a dark green tank top, black pants and boots. She ties a navy blue sweater around her waist when it isn't in use. The weapons she has on her are a small army knife and pistol.


Personality: Cameron makes an attempt to be friendly, just for her own sake. Despite this, she typically will not make any attempts to start a friendship with another person. She sees no wrong in trying to keep things civil, but views friendships or anything more as someone inviting pain and weakness in.


Backstory: Before the outbreak, Cameron was simply a young woman going through college, and nearly ready to graduate with a degree in graphic design. However, the month before graduation is when the chaos erupted and society fell. Her parents had not made it, and she is still unsure of what became of her young seventeen year-old brother, Daniel. Her first group was just a mile outside the city, but they fell apart within weeks. For a short time, she had jumped around with different people but eventually realized that gathering together like people were doing was what brought the infected in, and so the young woman took to traveling alone fairly early into the outbreak. She has met a few groups, but refused to join them and would wish them luck, despite knowing they too would fall.


Abilities: Prior to the virus, Cameron had never fought or handled weapons. She was only shown how to fire a gun in the groups she had been apart of. Otherwise, has taught herself what she knows.

 

[Elemental Son]

Name: Ambrose Edwards


Age: 21


Appearance:

Ambrose is five foot ten, although still growing. He has a few tattoos, and a scar over his right eyebrow where a bolt had been torn out. He’s dressed in a worn pair of dark jeans, a black sweatshirt, and a jacket looted sometime after the end of the world.


Background: Ambrose is one of the few people the end of the world was a mercy for. Expelled from school, kicked out of home, and with a criminal record of petty theft and drug use racking up before he’d even hit eighteen, the outbreak gave him a fresh start. His history makes him deeply wary of people, but conversely, quite manipulative when it suits him to be. Underneath all that is the very human sense of being alone, both figuratively and literally.


Abilities: Ambrose has only used a firearm once – when the cop guarding the overnight lockup he was in at the beginning turned, and he had little choice. The pistol fired twice, then jammed. Unfortunately, neither was a headshot. Ambrose’s introduction to the apocalypse was beating another man’s head in with a nightstick, stolen through the bars. Perhaps unsurprisingly, he sticks to melee weapons, and still dislikes police.


[[sorry about the wait]]

 

[Raneth]

(( No problem at all. Took me a bit to think of the intro for this. ))




Cameron stood over a writhing and crying hare, it's legs completely ruined from the animal trap she'd salvaged at the last site she searched. She frowned a bit at it's small size, and the fact she'd have to end it's life. It had been awhile since she last had to see an animal die in order for her own survival, and it was someone else doing the dirty work. But that's what happened when you were out in the wilderness and not venturing through towns and cities. Cameron sighed and pulled out her knife, kneeling down and not looking into it's eyes. "I'm sorry, little guy. I wish things were different, too." She murmured quietly before ending it, looking on solemnly when it squeaked.




It was dusk, and closing in on nighttime. She had finished skinning and cleaning the skin not too long ago, and worked on the small fire. This was the only thing that sucked about being alone. The constant worry of something or someone sneaking up on you, having to rely on only yourself, and the silence. Sometimes, Cameron had to wonder if she was going a little crazy when the past would creep up on her and send her into fits, or when she could hear voices clearly when she was obviously alone. But she was still relatively sane, and her loneliness was better than a forever suffering heart. There were a lot of perks to being with other people, but Cameron couldn't bear seeing people torn to shreds or surrounded by the dead. Dying seemed like a better option than that.




In boredom and impatience, Cameron held the meat over the fire on a stick she'd shaved. Watching it slowly cook was like a form of self-torture. She felt like an animal as her mouth watered and her stomach roared. "Chill out. It wont be too long." She told herself, somehow trying to comfort her own mind and body. She thought vaguely of infected coming by. It was a possibility, but she'd been in these woods for days and had only come across a single straggler that was hardly a concern, due to it's missing legs. At least it gave her some peace at night. While she was wary for some time, she felt more comfortable now. Maybe she'd finally get a decent night's rest.

 

[Elemental Son]

Ambrose was standing in a creek little under a mile away, as still as he could possibly be. He was holding a strange object - a makeshift net, woven from a torn up shirt, fastened on two sticks which had notches down the sides. After a long while, the fish lost their suspicion, and began traveling again downstream, as they had been when he first stepped in the water. When he saw a few gliding between his feet, he swept the net down and back, closing the handles together quickly, trapping three of them. He smiled, grimly satisfied. It had taken weeks to develop a system that worked almost every time, but it was worth it.


Staggering back on to the river bank and up on to a grass knoll, Ambrose picked up the three cloth strips he'd left on the bank. One he tied around the net bundle, securing it so the fish couldn't fall out. The other two, he tied to the notches on the sticks, making rudimentary straps. There, he picked the whole thing up and put it on his back, freeing his hands. It was by no means comfortable - water seeped into his shirt, and the fish still writhed against the net - but it would be worth it. From there, he moved to the largest tree in the area. It had no low hanging branches, which is why he'd picked it. Earlier, before fishing, he'd thrown a knotted rope around one of the higher ones. That made it easy enough to climb up.


Climbing until he reached a wide V intersection to a thick branch, Ambrose settled down and checked that the rest of his equipment was still there. Pack, check. Knife, check. Baseball bat, check. Canteens, check. Good to go. With that, he pulled the rope up, looping it on the branch next to him. A rudimentary form of security, but a good one - the dead didn't usually have the motor control left to climb, and as long as he was still and quiet, the living shouldn't be able to see him as darkness fell. It wasn't safe, but it was safer, and that would do.


Taking the net off his back and laying it down, Ambrose rolled it open. The fish were still wriggling. Turning one to its spine, he took the knife from his belt and made thin, sharp incisions, trying to get as much meat cleanly off as possible. Next came the disgusting part. Picking up a sliver of flesh, he put it in his mouth, chewing quickly. Raw fresh water fish was nowhere near pleasant, but it would keep him from starving. He devoured the rest of it, going so far as to gnaw at the bones, getting every scrap. As he ate, he paused. In the distance to the West was a light. It was clearly a fire of some sort, but small enough to be intentional. Must be a camp. Fuck. Gonna have to move on in the morning if there are people around.


Giving his stomach a moment to try and cope with the influx of food, Ambrose reached for the second fish. He'd planned to save the remaining two for the morning, but if there were people nearby, he no longer had the luxury of time. Instead, he'd get in as much food as he could, and then trek hard tomorrow to put some distance between them. Before he could grip the next one, however, it gave a massive writhe - its death throws - with enough momentum to throw the entire net to the side. It began to roll off the edge of the branch. Grabbing at it desperately was no use - the strap at the side tore, and the only thing left up in the tree with him was a strip of cloth. The rest fell hard, landing with the dull thud of wood on damp earth.


"Son of a bitch." Ambrose muttered, throwing the rope back down. Climbing down with the piece of cloth in hand, he pulled the second fish off the ground and cradled it in the front of his shirt. The third had fallen farther afield, and he couldn't see it in the darkness. From there, he tried, awkward and one handed, to repair his net. He was absorbed enough in this task that he didn't notice the distant sounds of shuffling.


By the time dragged footsteps turned into the sound of ragged breathing, he'd made no progress on the nets. The shuddering moans did not fail to capture his attention however. His head shot up, reflexive. Walker. Screw the net. He couldn't see it, dark as the night had become, but he knew his bat was up the top of the tree. Ambrose scrambled to start climbing back up. He was halfway when the rope snapped. While it could accommodate his weight, it could not bear the strain of the two walkers trying to claw it down. He was thrown backwards, landing some twenty feet from the base of the tree. He landed on one arm, and felt his wrist shatter. The pain was breathtaking, but adrenaline would not let that be the end of him. The walkers had seen or heard the fall, and were closing in. Scrabbling at the dirt with his good hand for something - anything - that could help him, his fingers closed on something cold. The third fish. Desperate, he threw it at the walkers.


Absurdly, it worked. The fish was still writhing, barely, and they fell on it with a terrifying hunger. Ambrose did not stick around to watch. Lurching to his feet, he ran as fast as he could, holding his broken arm, towards the only relative safety he knew of nearby. He would have to take his chances with the camp.


(All good; I'm going to be in and out today, so replies might be sporadic, sorry.)

 

[Raneth]

(( It's fine

xD . ))




While the rabbit continued to cook, Cameron looked up and lightly hit her head against the tree behind her a few times, bored and starving. From what she could see, it was only partially done and her stomach roared bitterly. If she had crap to fish with, she'd be able to eat her food raw. But the little trap was all she really had for hunting. The biggest this thing could probably get would be a young deer, and she hadn't seen in ages. Kind of a sad thought. They were once considered abundant and a major nuisance, and now they were an incredibly rare sight.




Cameron jumped when she heard noises in the distance, and sat up straight, looking around. She saw nothing. It would be safe to stomp the fire out or leave it in an attempt to have it attract whoever or whatever was walking around, but for all she knew, it was just animals running around or a straggler or two. Her own experience the past few days, along with her desperate hunger, made her relax a bit. It might be foolish, but she needed this rabbit. And she didn't want to make it's death meaningless. If it had to die, it died for a reason.




However, the noise started back up again and it wasn't ceasing. Cameron turned the rabbit over onto an uncooked side and stabbed the end of the stick into the ground, letting it roast. She rose from where she had been sitting and pulled out the pistol she kept in her back pocket and readied her knife, watching out around her.

This is so stupid

. Risking her life over a little meat that was hardly going to sate her beyond a few hours. Taking a shot, she sighed and spoke. "Hello?" Her voice wasn't too loud, and it was hesitant. "Anyone out here with me? As you can see, I don't have any shit worth taking. This rabbit isn't going to feed anymore than one person. I'm almost out of bullets, too." This was never very helpful. If people wanted to attack, they did. But she knew some people could be reasoned with. And dammit, she wanted this rabbit.

 

[Elemental Son]

“Anyone out here with me?”


Her voice gave him direction through the thick underbrush, so dense in places that it blocked the glow of the light from the fire. More than that, though, it gave him something to run to. She was alone, armed, and not too concerned by his approach.


Ambrose was not in a state to think through all of this, however. Instead, his response was a ragged, pained appeal. “Please – two of them, coming.” He crashed through the scrub, gasping in agony. The adrenaline was beginning to take its toll on his body, exhausting him. There was no relief for the pain in his wrist either.


Almost falling into the clearing, the picture of desolate, he finally could see her. Though she could not know it, this was the lowest he’d been since the outbreak. Badly injured but more badly scared, tired and in pain, it was the closest he’d been to his childhood struggles in years. Looking as desperate as he felt, he spoke, mindful enough to keep his voice down. “I’m not bit – Please, help me.” Ambrose had lived enough to know you got nothing for nothing, but right now, he would pay whatever price was asked of him.


(So, sporadic turned into not at all - Really sorry about that, my plans went awry. I'm here for the rest of the day though, so expect more posts!)

 

[Raneth]

(( It's cool. Stuff happens. I'm gonna go and get a reply written for the other rp. Been waiting to see if one of the other people was going to reply first, but now I feel like we're waiting on me

xD . ))




Cameron turned when she heard constant rustling, hold her gun with her finger ready to pull the trigger. When she heard a voice, she furrowed her brows and watched him stumble out, looking him over. He didn't look like he was bleeding anywhere, so she'd have to trust his word for the moment. He looked like a mess. He had no composure whatsoever and he sounded like he was in pain, which caused her to have some doubt in telling her he wasn't bitten. But if he was, it wasn't something to immediately worry about. Cameron groaned. Looks like giving up this meal was going to be her only bet. She could easily off two of the infected, but who knows how many were actually here. And he had caused quite a ruckus.




"Come on. The fire will probably distract them. Maybe one will dive into the damn flames for this rabbit." She'd help him get away, at least. Figure out what the hell was wrong with him because it was surprising to see someone so unstable manage to survive years into this mess. Believing he wouldn't be able to run along with her without tripping over himself, she went over and hooked her arm with his after folding up her knife and putting it away. "You're really lucky it's just me. The closest people I'd seen near here were complete brutes who probably would have shot you the second you were heard. Seemed like cannibal types, too."




Close to him, she examined him further. He looked dirty and a little beaten. There were circles under his eyes, though she was sure she shared that with him. Sleep was a rare gift almost no one received anymore. Being alone in the middle of the woods with no shelter didn't help, either. She then took notice of his messed up wrist. She winced a bit. That's probably what had him so freaked out. His hand was pretty much useless. Cameron then began to move, wanting to walk at a brisk pace. They needed to leave now.