oliver
count the seconds
♡coded by uxie♡
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Realistic or Modern 𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚟𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚐𝚎
- Thread starter oliver
- Start date
erzulie
cheers for spring; for life; for a growing soul
cablebelly
well poised
Hattie Greene
Henrietta Greene had not been many things in her life. She had been simple, straight forward, and sensical. Things were clear. Wake up. Work the farm. Cook meals. Do chores. Repeat. And she liked it that way. Hattie had not been many things in her life because she adhered to, and loved, the structure that it had held up until this point. Why want more when you had all that you needed? Family, nature, purpose?
She hadn’t been much, but one thing she had never been, was alone. And the zombie apocalypse could tend to do that to you.
Hattie would never admit it to the ragtag team she’d come upon, but by the time they’d found her, she was just on the edge of losing her mind. Or at least, feeling like it. It had only been a couple months that she’d roamed the wastelands that had once been the United States alone, but every moment was agony. With hardly a moment to grieve the only world that made sense to her, and having to tackle a new one completely isolated, fearful of everything and on guard twenty four seven, it had taken a toll on her. Though her mind was still sharp, her body still young, when the group had found her, she’d been exhausted. Exhausted of her endless spite and spitfire that felt useless without anyone to banter with. No siblings to jostle or roughhouse with, no ruckus at the dinner table. Just fear. Panic. Running. Always running.
And then, them. Though from the second she met them Hattie seemed to do nothing other than bite, kick and scream if given the opportunity, her soul was thankful. Hattie loved people, whether she showed it or not. To be around them, hell, to spat with them and boss them around and be bossed around. She needed the energy of others to exist, and without it, she felt there was little to live for.
That didn’t mean she trusted them. But it had led to her eventual slip of the location of her farm.
This… had become a sore topic for Hattie the moment she had said it out loud. My family’s farm is in our direction. It’s empty. It’s safe. It’s well stocked. We could last there. It had just spilled out of her. It was noble of her, right? And if anything, it was the least she could do. They were already heading that direction. What was she supposed to do, pretend she hadn’t lived in Virginia all her life? Whistle as they walked on by? Her childhood home was as good a place as any to settle, recuperate, even live.
That was, if it hadn’t been overwhelmed by a surge of zombies that had supposedly rendered her family into a horde of living corpses. She’d fled before witnessing any of them then, but the thought of running into the deteriorated face of her mother, father, or any of her brothers kept her up at night ever since she’d offered it to the group. She took every watch shift offered up. When she wasn’t on watch, she laid awake at night and stared at nothing but the image her mind concocted of their undead faces. Too late to take it back now. And even if they were zombies, some dumb part of her thought maybe, one of them had survived. Or her other brothers had returned home and were waiting for her.
There was, of course, the gnawing guilt of being the coward who had fled and now returned with her tail tucked between her legs also resting on her shoulders. But if Hattie hadn’t lived… all her family would have died in vain. She’d stayed until the last second. She’d fought with all her might. Her parents begged her, screamed at her to run. She wasn’t a coward. Right? Right?
It wasn’t any surprise she didn’t sleep much.
Still, whatever ate at her, Hattie didn’t show it. She made sure to be her usual, plucky self. Voicing opinions at every turn. And this was no exception. Arms crossed, mouth upturned in a near snarl, weight shifted to one leg, Hattie stared down this stranger with a gaze so fierce it could just about burn through him, as if she could melt away the exterior and see straight into his soul.
She could not. But that didn’t really matter.
“Are you kiddin’?” Hattie huffed, her voice loud and clear with that signature southern twinge, aimed at both the newcomer and the oddly cheerful Parker, who always seemed to have zero qualms with anything except the occasional centipede. Yes, they were all vaguely strangers. But nine was already way too much, too loud, too many mouths and bodies and liabilities. And now that they were going to her farm, didn’t she get a bigger say? Her gaze flitted to their leader. Nathaniel’s quiet aura and calculative gaze had put him as de-facto captain of the group, but it was safe to say the two had their arguments. And whatever leadership his dark cloak and shiny black boots imposed on her wasn’t going to stop her from speaking her mind.
“At this point, we need some sorta damn vettin’ process, at the least.” Yeah, it was a little hypocritical, but she knew there was bound to be someone in this group that agreed. They couldn’t just welcome every random stranger anymore. That would be the death of all of them. Her sea green eyes glowered across the other bodies surrounding the newcomer, hoping to find a voice that would agree. “It ain’t gonna hurt if we at least take a moment to ask the guy his damn name before we say it’s obvious.” She muttered, and settled her gaze back on the stranger.
“So?” Hattie said. “Who are you?”
Henrietta Greene had not been many things in her life. She had been simple, straight forward, and sensical. Things were clear. Wake up. Work the farm. Cook meals. Do chores. Repeat. And she liked it that way. Hattie had not been many things in her life because she adhered to, and loved, the structure that it had held up until this point. Why want more when you had all that you needed? Family, nature, purpose?
She hadn’t been much, but one thing she had never been, was alone. And the zombie apocalypse could tend to do that to you.
Hattie would never admit it to the ragtag team she’d come upon, but by the time they’d found her, she was just on the edge of losing her mind. Or at least, feeling like it. It had only been a couple months that she’d roamed the wastelands that had once been the United States alone, but every moment was agony. With hardly a moment to grieve the only world that made sense to her, and having to tackle a new one completely isolated, fearful of everything and on guard twenty four seven, it had taken a toll on her. Though her mind was still sharp, her body still young, when the group had found her, she’d been exhausted. Exhausted of her endless spite and spitfire that felt useless without anyone to banter with. No siblings to jostle or roughhouse with, no ruckus at the dinner table. Just fear. Panic. Running. Always running.
And then, them. Though from the second she met them Hattie seemed to do nothing other than bite, kick and scream if given the opportunity, her soul was thankful. Hattie loved people, whether she showed it or not. To be around them, hell, to spat with them and boss them around and be bossed around. She needed the energy of others to exist, and without it, she felt there was little to live for.
That didn’t mean she trusted them. But it had led to her eventual slip of the location of her farm.
This… had become a sore topic for Hattie the moment she had said it out loud. My family’s farm is in our direction. It’s empty. It’s safe. It’s well stocked. We could last there. It had just spilled out of her. It was noble of her, right? And if anything, it was the least she could do. They were already heading that direction. What was she supposed to do, pretend she hadn’t lived in Virginia all her life? Whistle as they walked on by? Her childhood home was as good a place as any to settle, recuperate, even live.
That was, if it hadn’t been overwhelmed by a surge of zombies that had supposedly rendered her family into a horde of living corpses. She’d fled before witnessing any of them then, but the thought of running into the deteriorated face of her mother, father, or any of her brothers kept her up at night ever since she’d offered it to the group. She took every watch shift offered up. When she wasn’t on watch, she laid awake at night and stared at nothing but the image her mind concocted of their undead faces. Too late to take it back now. And even if they were zombies, some dumb part of her thought maybe, one of them had survived. Or her other brothers had returned home and were waiting for her.
There was, of course, the gnawing guilt of being the coward who had fled and now returned with her tail tucked between her legs also resting on her shoulders. But if Hattie hadn’t lived… all her family would have died in vain. She’d stayed until the last second. She’d fought with all her might. Her parents begged her, screamed at her to run. She wasn’t a coward. Right? Right?
It wasn’t any surprise she didn’t sleep much.
Still, whatever ate at her, Hattie didn’t show it. She made sure to be her usual, plucky self. Voicing opinions at every turn. And this was no exception. Arms crossed, mouth upturned in a near snarl, weight shifted to one leg, Hattie stared down this stranger with a gaze so fierce it could just about burn through him, as if she could melt away the exterior and see straight into his soul.
She could not. But that didn’t really matter.
“Are you kiddin’?” Hattie huffed, her voice loud and clear with that signature southern twinge, aimed at both the newcomer and the oddly cheerful Parker, who always seemed to have zero qualms with anything except the occasional centipede. Yes, they were all vaguely strangers. But nine was already way too much, too loud, too many mouths and bodies and liabilities. And now that they were going to her farm, didn’t she get a bigger say? Her gaze flitted to their leader. Nathaniel’s quiet aura and calculative gaze had put him as de-facto captain of the group, but it was safe to say the two had their arguments. And whatever leadership his dark cloak and shiny black boots imposed on her wasn’t going to stop her from speaking her mind.
“At this point, we need some sorta damn vettin’ process, at the least.” Yeah, it was a little hypocritical, but she knew there was bound to be someone in this group that agreed. They couldn’t just welcome every random stranger anymore. That would be the death of all of them. Her sea green eyes glowered across the other bodies surrounding the newcomer, hoping to find a voice that would agree. “It ain’t gonna hurt if we at least take a moment to ask the guy his damn name before we say it’s obvious.” She muttered, and settled her gaze back on the stranger.
“So?” Hattie said. “Who are you?”
MoxxyMoxx
the enby autist
ALEX J. MOON
ALEX J. MOON
ALEX J. MOON
coded by reveriee
ALEX J. MOON
From LA to New York, Alex was in a major point in his life before the virus killed every single person out there. The young man was on his way to getting his degree when those devil spawns emerged out of lecture halls and college dorms. In all honesty, Alex was surprised he had made it this far. Trying to travel away from a big city, driving across the country and failing at the first few states was almost soul crushing but just seeing human faces relieved him. This is why stumbling across this random stranger at their temporary home filled him with excitement and joy, the fact that people are still out there, surviving. Alex hoped his family was doing the same.
He could tell some of the others were wary. The group had been growing quickly over a short period of time and they hadn't adjusted well to feeding so many people. Another person wouldn't help but Alex wanted to ensure that everyone had a fair shot existing as the world was slowly dying. If that made him weak, he'd accept that. These people were all he had right now and the thought of losing them... He didn't even want to imagine it.
Alex moved from watching the exits and followed the others into the kitchen where the mysterious stranger was. He smiled widely and lowered his bat. It didn't take a genius to notice he was easily taller than him, as was every other annoying survivor in the ragtag crew. He had thin, wide lips and a hooked nose that suited his face. His sharp dark eyebrows made his odd eyes stand out. He seemed strange, different, as if something was haunting him. Of course, the Korean could be reading to much into the man and no one should base their entire opinion on a first impression or an inkling. Alex made an effort to try and understand everyone and everything around him. He wouldn't like to offend but he craves knowledge and a social environment.
If there was anyone with the social skills to help the group befriend others it was Alex. He has always had a natural affinity for people and his want to make sure everyone gets along will be key to the group dynamic whether these people want him around or not. Listening to the others and taking in their thoughts, he wasn't surprised by what they all said. Parker was a lot like him, optimistic and loving. He was an overgrown puppy. They were already close friends. Then there was Amir and Hattie. For the latter they had a mixed relationship. She was a ball of fire, teasing and making fun of both Alex and Parker, but it didn't stop him wanting them to be close. Alex thinks there's a softer side to Hattie in there somewhere. When it came to Amir, they were total opposites. One extroverted, the other introverted, one loud, the other quiet. One tall the other short. The things they could relate to each other with were minimal. Alex respected Amir's boundaries but of course barely an adult, practically a teen Alex wanted to build upon their connection.
He raised his voice, "It is up to him if he wants in or not but if we don't let him in when he wants in, we look like awful human beings. Plus, who knows how many civilised people are actually left. We should try and increase our chances of survival where we can and that means strength in numbers and helping out those who need it." He felt pretty confident in his approach but the virus is the virus and what people were like before the apocalypse is bound to cause arguments. "Of course, we all want to know more about everyone in due time but we should at least focus on the main goal of survival first." Alex grinned. He hoped that worked.
"But yeah, what's your story?"
From LA to New York, Alex was in a major point in his life before the virus killed every single person out there. The young man was on his way to getting his degree when those devil spawns emerged out of lecture halls and college dorms. In all honesty, Alex was surprised he had made it this far. Trying to travel away from a big city, driving across the country and failing at the first few states was almost soul crushing but just seeing human faces relieved him. This is why stumbling across this random stranger at their temporary home filled him with excitement and joy, the fact that people are still out there, surviving. Alex hoped his family was doing the same.
He could tell some of the others were wary. The group had been growing quickly over a short period of time and they hadn't adjusted well to feeding so many people. Another person wouldn't help but Alex wanted to ensure that everyone had a fair shot existing as the world was slowly dying. If that made him weak, he'd accept that. These people were all he had right now and the thought of losing them... He didn't even want to imagine it.
Alex moved from watching the exits and followed the others into the kitchen where the mysterious stranger was. He smiled widely and lowered his bat. It didn't take a genius to notice he was easily taller than him, as was every other annoying survivor in the ragtag crew. He had thin, wide lips and a hooked nose that suited his face. His sharp dark eyebrows made his odd eyes stand out. He seemed strange, different, as if something was haunting him. Of course, the Korean could be reading to much into the man and no one should base their entire opinion on a first impression or an inkling. Alex made an effort to try and understand everyone and everything around him. He wouldn't like to offend but he craves knowledge and a social environment.
If there was anyone with the social skills to help the group befriend others it was Alex. He has always had a natural affinity for people and his want to make sure everyone gets along will be key to the group dynamic whether these people want him around or not. Listening to the others and taking in their thoughts, he wasn't surprised by what they all said. Parker was a lot like him, optimistic and loving. He was an overgrown puppy. They were already close friends. Then there was Amir and Hattie. For the latter they had a mixed relationship. She was a ball of fire, teasing and making fun of both Alex and Parker, but it didn't stop him wanting them to be close. Alex thinks there's a softer side to Hattie in there somewhere. When it came to Amir, they were total opposites. One extroverted, the other introverted, one loud, the other quiet. One tall the other short. The things they could relate to each other with were minimal. Alex respected Amir's boundaries but of course barely an adult, practically a teen Alex wanted to build upon their connection.
He raised his voice, "It is up to him if he wants in or not but if we don't let him in when he wants in, we look like awful human beings. Plus, who knows how many civilised people are actually left. We should try and increase our chances of survival where we can and that means strength in numbers and helping out those who need it." He felt pretty confident in his approach but the virus is the virus and what people were like before the apocalypse is bound to cause arguments. "Of course, we all want to know more about everyone in due time but we should at least focus on the main goal of survival first." Alex grinned. He hoped that worked.
"But yeah, what's your story?"
Maverick.
say hi to your mother for me.
mangomilk
big oof
coded by natasha.
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