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Realistic or Modern 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐓 𝐎𝐅 𝐔𝐒 (𝙢𝙖𝙞𝙣 𝙩𝙝𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙).

Characters
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idiot

𝙞𝙩 𝙝𝙖𝙨 𝙩𝙤 𝙗𝙚 𝙢𝙚.
SEATTLE.png

art by mitchel clayton
 

idiot

𝙞𝙩 𝙝𝙖𝙨 𝙩𝙤 𝙗𝙚 𝙢𝙚.
Novak Moldovan.
SEATTLE — DAY 1.

"If you're hearing this message, we are a group of Seattle citizens who are sick of just surviving. We want to live — to wake up with a sense of hope! No one will be turned away, as long as you're willing to contribute to our vision of a better future. We've got food, water, supplies, beds and a secure perimeter. Make your way to the Suzzallo Library, near the University of Washington if you're interested. Stay safe and we hope to see you soon."

Novak hated Seattle. It was a city that had been reclaimed by mother nature; the lush, overgrown foliage melding in harmony with the man-made infrastructure. The concrete below his boots had cracked, while torrents of water were gushing down what once used to be a road. He imagined it was from the fact Seattle was surrounded by water and whatever was holding it at bay had finally given way, flooding the surrounding streets. Novak had to admit there was an odd sense of beauty to it all, but the neverending war between the Scars and Wolves had destroyed this city. Maybe FEDRA destroyed it first?

"What is a library, anyway?" The bow-wielding, curly-haired child asked. Novak looked back, unable to stop the look of disbelief from forming: You've got to be bloody kidding. To be fair, the girl was a Scar a freakish cult who believed the world ended because of technology. They were aptly called that because of the ridiculous ritual of permanently scarring the face of all members to form some sadistic smile. It reminded Novak of the Joker from Batman, thankfully it wasn't as dramatic. Zeva was no different, the scar was a constant reminder of where she belonged.

"It's uh, a place where we used to store books and people would borrow them." Novak's thick Slavic accent had dulled over the years, yet his voice remained deep and booming. "They wouldn't have any of your crazy prophet's books though, I don't think she would have been a best-seller back in the day. Let alone published." Novak chuckled to himself, aware Zeva wouldn't get the joke. Apparently the Scars didn't teach their children what jokes were, or anything really if it wasn't mentioned in the prophet's readings. What a sad, sad world.

"She isn't crazy." Zeva hissed, sprinting past him and easily scaling the obstacles ahead; her agile, small frame allowed her to move silently and with a sense of grace. Novak couldn't be any more different, his hulking frame and tall stature left him clunky and able to spot from a mile away. Luckily he prided himself on being able to talk himself out of troubling situations and if that didn't work his mean swing has proven handy.

"You Scars literally gut people...that is pretty crazy, don't you think?" Novak countered, short of breath as he struggled to haul his ass up the newly formed cliffs of concrete.

"Seraphites." He couldn't see Zeva anymore, seemingly way up ahead, but he heard the sigh of frustration that followed. "Our Prophet never wanted this, if you actually read her teachings, you would know that."

"Didn't know they taught you kids sass." Novak laughed breathlessly, able to see Zeva up ahead, her back was turned to him. No reply came from her, causing Novak to frown as he continued climbing. She was staring at something it seemed.

Soon enough he reached the final climb, hauling himself onto the concrete platform. Straightening up he realised what Zeva was staring at; in the orange haze of the sunset was a building of older architecture which meant it was built on good bones. The Suzzallo Library was mostly untouched by nature, sticking out like a sore thumb amongst the surrounding greenery. Novak squinted, being able to spot the library was circled by fencing of some kind. He needed to get closer to make sure.

"Is that it? The library...the one from the...radio?" Zeva asked with a sense of excitement, the word 'radio' sounding foreign to her Novak assumed it was. There was only one way to make sure and that meant scaling back down the cracked concrete while trying to not fall into the rapids. Novak hated Seattle.
suzzallo library
elated
beanie, cargo pants, weight coat and a graphic, red tee.
n/a
coded by natasha.
 
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jay.rain

cityfolk relocator

location?
suzzallo library, seattle.
interactions?
nii.
mood?
deeply unsettled.
outfit?
camo pants, grey t-shirt, and a black baseball cap.
levi haywood.
"If you're hearing this message, we are a group of Seattle citizens who are sick of just surviving. We want to live — to wake up with a sense of hope! No one will be turned away, as long as you're willing to contribute to our vision of a better future. We've got food, water, supplies, beds and a secure perimeter. Make your way to the Suzzallo Library, near the University of Washington if you're interested. Stay safe and we hope to see you soon."

Levi wasn't sure about his younger brother, but as for himself, that message had been playing on repeat in his head for the past five days. Thanks to his hysterically-devout parents, the twenty-eight-year-old didn't believe in the big man upstairs or anything remotely similar. He even found it hard to respect the old Native ways of seeing the world: the Creator and all that. But it was hard not to see that broadcast as an act of God.

The first time that unknown person's blessed voice had come drifting through the radio, Levi had just been told the news. That sickening feeling of anger was unlike anything he'd ever had to experience before in his life; it still flared deep within at even just the memory of what Nii had told him. The younger had been crying when he started to tell him, which in and of itself wasn't anything new; Nii was kind of a crybaby all the time. But this time had been different. There was something especially unnerving about watching genuine pain spill from the eyes of what was usually a grade-A crocodile...

Unfortunately for Levi, on the list of 'smart things to do during a zombie apocalypse', getting lost in thought was not one of them. In the Wolf's determination to make sense of the day that led them to flee the only real home they'd ever known, he'd managed to get his foot hooked underneath a thick vine. The combination of the slightly-pliable snare and his scramble to get his hand on the dagger on his belt meant the ex-Wolf landed hard on his right thigh before sprawling out awkwardly in front of Nii, who yelped in surprise and kicked him in the shoulder in his own desperation to not topple.

It wasn't even a full second before his younger brother descended into a fit of laughter. The boy snorted ungracefully, one arm hooked around his own waist and the other pressed into his mouth in a futile attempt to silence himself. If Levi didn't look so fucking stupid at that moment, the eighteen-year-old's giggling would have sounded rather creepy in the empty, nature-ridden city. Levi glared up as he slammed his hand down on the offending vine and pushed himself to his feet.

"You're fucking lucky there aren't any klasemos around here. I would've killed you before they got the chance."

Nii snorted again, though this time with less mirth and more venom. "So we're done feeling bad for me? Back to you just being an asshole all the time?"

Levi sucked in a sharp breath to respond, before deciding that anything he said would only serve to drive the interaction even closer to chaos than it already was. Instead, he pulled his cap lower over his eyes and set out again, leaving Nii to stare at his back for a moment before following at a jog. Levi grit his teeth at the sound of the younger's pounding steps and turned to snap at him, but stopped short at the look in Nii's eyes. Shock? Awe? Terror? His mind reeled as he immediately whirled back around to see what the other saw. His breath left him in a rush.

Neither of them had ever seen anything so grand. The pillars of the library stretched high into the sky, somehow seeming to take up even more space than the much taller skyscrapers. Levi had no time to make any romantic comparisons to ancient cathedrals or the pictures of European castles he'd seen in all those books before his hellion of a little brother was dashing ahead of him and across the square, hair streaming out behind him.

"Are you ACTUALLY FUCKING STUPID?!" Levi, who had never been so alone and vulnerable since he was a preteen, roared out his surprise without a single alarm bell to go off in his head, voice echoing off the abandoned towers that surrounded them. He pulled his backpack straps tighter around his chest as he sprinted into the open space, a borderline-hysterical laugh bubbling up in his chest despite himself as he chased Nii towards their salvation.
"oh, so we're back to you just being an asshole again?"
coded by incandescent
 

Archangel_

One Thousand Club
Roleplay Type(s)
Veronica Wallace
original.gif

Location Outside Suzzallo Library - Red Square | UW Campus
CompanyChip
Tags ReverseTex ReverseTex
Veronica was happy about one thing when it came to the collapse of modern civilization: there was no traffic at the beaches. She hadn’t ever traveled as far as California before, but she’d always dreamed of visiting the sandy shores. Flathead lake had been one of her only indulges, and at that it was a lake. Her father used to show her photos that he and her mother had taken on several vacations, prior to Veronica’s birth, of all the beaches they’d gone to. Despite seeing so much of the world, and being an army man, her father had been so determined to keep the family on their property in the forest. She never imagined it was anything but a safety precaution, but now having Chip traveling with her, she was sure it was a way of keeping everyone close to home.

It had become normalized in her mind, after ten years together, of Chip as just a regular part of her life. At some point it might have been strange to latch on to a stranger so fast, and to rely on him more than anyone else around her, but now it was second nature. She didn’t flinch, or hesitate, to do what she needed to ensure the survival for the two. She didn’t like to tell him, but with his slowly failing eyes, she was prepared to step up in her protectiveness. Maybe it was an inherited trait from her father, but the lengths she went to were nearly militant.

Eavesdropping, intercepting and trying to find any working radios had been her recent attempt at getting new information. She didn’t tell him why she was looking for word out about any havens or civilizations. If he’d asked, she made an excuse about looking for work. She didn’t mention any attempt for it to be a permanent stay for them-- or just him, depending on however things went.

The Suzzallo Library. That was where they were supposed to go. Ronnie had heard of the University of Washington mostly from conversation, and she vaguely remembered her mother saying that she’d gone to school there, but that was enough to go off for the time being. Veronica had spent most of her years at home looking over all the maps in her father’s study, pouring over the layout of the USA. She had a strong sense for travel, and with the compass in her hand, and a handful of dilapidated maps they acquired as they traveled north from California, they made their way there.

At some point, heading along the coast, they came across an old kayak store in Oregon. Not one for water, but willing to try it out and avoid having to be on their feet for so many days, the two opted to sail in and around the Puget Sound to hit Seattle. In that moment Ronnie was truly glad she had her father’s compass. She knew land well, like the back of her hand, but water was a whole new avenue.

Eventually they made their way in, docking their kayaks at the Waterfront. Along the shoreline stood the old piers, though a lot of the wood had rotted and sunken into the water. They came in just next to the old Ferry terminal, Veronica taking in the sights with absent and childlike wonder. There was so much concrete, aged and weathered from rain and spray. There wasn’t as much green by the water, but there was plenty of growth nevertheless. The city seemed to be stacked upon itself, from this angle, and her head spun at the prospect of climbing up all those hills.

“Well, what do you think?” Veronica, asked, turning to give her companion a smile.

”Reminds me of back in the day. When we thought being a soldier to ‘society’ was a good idea” He chuckled as he gave a lackadaisical eye roll. Veronica nodded, half-listening, suddenly swept into a wave of emotion. By no means did she have an immaculate memory, but the emotional impact of seeing the streets was forceful enough.

“I was just a kid last time I was here… the Waterfront, I mean… all of it is so different.”

“Well I’d like to say no shit, but, it looks like you’re having a moment.” Chip replied. She spoke more at him than to him, but posed the statement in the air anyway. Her gaze was caught on the great wheel not too far in the distance. She narrowed her eyes in his direction, but shrugged it off with a shake of her head and a smile.

“The moment came, and then went, let’s move along, shall we?” She said, giving him a look with her eyebrows raised. Pulling their vehicles up onto the broken pier boards, they managed to keep them above the current sea level. For now, anyway. If things went to shit, and they needed to get out of dodge, they would have a quick way out.

They were going to travel on a bit of the interstate, mostly for ease of navigating. She didn’t know how much of a maze Seattle would be, but most cities ended up looking the same once nature began to take over. Breaks in the road, neglected streets that created rivers, collapsed buildings and trees… it felt less safe than a forest to Veronica, so she kept her guard up. Once they climbed their way back up to the downtown streets, her recollection was flooded. Patrolling with the WLF… which also brought up the prospect of running into any of them while running around. She gave Chip a look, maybe to extend an extra arm of caution, but they managed through with little interruption. Wherever the Infected were lurking, they managed to evade any drastic encounters.

It didn't take too long of a walk, excluding any detours due to holes in the ground and overgrown pathways, for them to arrive at the old campus. The size, alone, said quite a bit about the nature of the school. Veronica tried to imagine what it might have looked like in its glory days, but she was distracted by seeing several figures moving in the distance… heading in the same direction. She noticed one darting across the red bricks.

Immediately her sense kicked in and she gestured quickly for Charlie to join her behind a large sculpture in the courtyard. She’d known that they wouldn’t be the only people to respond to the radio call, but it was another thing entirely. How many were innocent, hapless survivors? How many were WLF seeking out any outsiders to squash?

She looked to Chip, eyes wide. “Should we just… go ahead?”
 

ReverseTex

RPN’s Residential Politician
chip kessler

Chip’s begrudged agreement to come back to Seattle was starting to bite him in the ass. Personally, he saw no point in returning to the militia-filled jungle. It reminded him of the cesspool that was the Firefly occupied D.C..

Veronica was adamant about seeing this possible opportunity through. According to her logic, the supplies and resources that filled Seattle were too good to pass up. However, he could tell there was more to that reasoning. Whether it be selfish, which it likely wasn’t knowing her all too well, or whether it was to help him. Regardless, it was nearly impossible for him to say no to her.

“No. Let’s hold here a bit. We don’t want to look eager or desperate. Everyone here has a motive: don’t forget it.” Deciding to take a seat, Chip leaned his backpack against the weathered stone base of the statue. It was easier to keep his pack on rather than remove it. “You keep eyes on the street for me girlie. If you see anyone particularly interesting let me know. I’ll log it.” Removing a small moleskine journal from his back pocket, he rummaged through his coat pocket for his trusty pen. A trick he learned back in the Capitol. Always log anything you see. Might be of interest down the line. Veronica teased him at first for this tactic, but she eventually saw its usefulness.

“I mean,” she said with a glare and a pointed hand toward the library, “I’d say those people heading for the library are pretty fucking interesting.”

Chip sighed as he stared at the empty yet confined lines of the journal. It’s pages were tinted yellow; years in the wildness didn’t do it much favors. Peeking his head slightly to the right of the stone, his good eye squinted heavily. Adjusting his frames did little either. Nonetheless two figures were clearly visible. “Is one bigger than the other? Or is that just my shitty eyesight?”

“How blind are you Chip?--” “ Pretty fucking blind last I checked Ronnie. A damn mole can see better than me.” Their banter was light-hearted at best : self deprecating at worst. “At least a mole would be useful in checking any of this out-- can’t you see the two groups? More, I think-- separate people though. I don’t think we’re going to be going into this with one or two others,” she said but sighed immediately after, caving in. “Okay, okay. So, the one that’s further away...you’re right, they are bigger than the other one. Sort of… bald, big guy. She’s smaller, skinny and uh… fuck, I don’t know? The other ones though are… two guys, for sure, but one of them’s got long hair and he’s running-- fuck if I know why, what’s the rush? I can’t see the others yet, but… they’re there.”


Group 1
Bald. Not bald.
Burly. Skinny.
Male. Female.


Group 2
Both men.



He scribbled away in his notebook, leaving room for details to be added later on. Once satisfied, he returned the pen back to its original home. Flipping back a couple of pages to his weather log, it chronicalized the current weather cycle of the month. Without a barometer at hand, most of his handiwork was speculation at best. But as the years added up since the end of civilization, his speculation became more fact than fiction. “Since we’ve just had our last snow of the year it’s looking like the humidity will probably pick itself back up. Temps should be rising soon too. The Cascade Mountains should be melting with the added sunlight— I’m droning again aren’t I?”

“You are; I’m going in. It should be fine, worst that can happen, they start shooting. We’ve been through worse.” Her abrupt decision to advance sent Chip clumsily staggering after her. “Wait wait — Fine. Fuck it. Fine.” He was methodical. She was impulsive. God it’s a miracle they’ve lived this long.
 

scorpiodragon

Five Thousand Club
OOC: Aqua- #00FED0 (detail) | Lime - #87FE00 (thoughts) | pink-#F0A8F1 {speech) | underline- black (actions/attacking}



Sybil
"Time is an illusion when there's no hope in the dark."'Interacting with + N/A' mentions: N/A

Nervous and scared
Suzzallo Library, Seattle, WA
jeans, t-shirt, combat boots
code by fudgecakez
- Look over your shoulder and hold your breath -
- There's'a light at'the end of the tunnel -


The sun hadn't even risen yet as hooves moved out of the tourist resort known as Whitefish Lake, the ice beginning to melt and greenery once again beginning to grow around the area. The dawn-filled sky above was awash with color, reflecting on the lake's to the beast's right, the water and air both still as birds called from overhead where they rested within trees and on the couple houses on a hill overlooking the lake, the rest of the area containing food buildings, restrooms and a covered shelter, a few picnic tables scattered underneath the covered sheltered and around the resort. With it being a week into spring, the rider was wearing a t-shirt underneath a sweater, jeans and combat boots while her hair was done in a ponytail as she made her way, the horse moving at a walk as they gradually left the girl's home for the first time in eighteen years. Despite bringing a map of the area, she didn't need to consult it as she turned the horse and headed west, hoping to make some time before anyone noticed she were gone from home. A backpack rested on her shoulders along with a deerskin water skin and deerskin saddlebags that her mother had created for her, beads decorating the fringes on the saddlebag. Trepidation filled the young woman for this was her first time away from the safety of Silver Lake and the people she called friends. What she was looking for, she hadn't the slightest idea. Maybe she would know when she got there.

Her journey takes her along sunken and cracked streets and through forests. From on the saddle she has a good vantage point to potentially spot any predators, infected or survivors out here within the wilderness, a light hand on Galaxy's reins to keep the mare at a walk. If they need to break into a run, it won't be good to exhaust Galaxy early on, the horse needs to save her strength. Thankfully, her father taught her how to shoot from the saddle and has trained Galaxy to ground tie and not shy at a gunshot. Staying off the highway, the journey takes her along old country roads, the vegetation taking everything over as it has been for the past several years since humanity became...what was the word mother used? Extinct? No...endangered...that's it.

It's evening when she finally begins to look for a place to stop for the night, having journeyed throughout the day with a couple breaks to stretch her legs and give Galaxy time to graze on the grass as they wander over broken roads that are cracked, some having fallen into the ground itself as nature has taken over these past twenty-two years. Without humans being a constant thorn in the earth's side, nature has easily taken over and she's surprised there are some homes still standing. At one point, she follows a creek, the land getting more wilder, what little houses remain having disappeared as she advances further into the wilderness. Roads lead off other roads, gravel roads and she knows where she is thanks to a sign she passed saying Stove Prairie Landing. Eventually the creek turns into another and she follows that as she heads north, then heading west, when she reaches a river before stopping. Looking around, it seems she's at an old campground of sorts and she's grateful for the familiarity before looking for a place to rest. Both woman and horse are tired and the woman hasn't eaten all day, a bad thing when she's...in the condition she's in. She's not precisely sure of the distance but as it is evening, she must have traveled quite a ways and only when she enters an old cabin, settling Galaxy in a makeshift shelter beside the cabin since the mare can't fit into the cabin sadly and removing the tack and saddlebags, she brushes down Galaxy and then heads into the cabin, hoping she isn't bothered by any infected or bandits. It's only when she's on the bed in another room that the young woman begins to relax because she's finally away from home but her stomach churns with anxiety and nerves.




Days have passed since she's been on the road. It's taken her through the countryside, winding northwest towards a destination and she isn't even sure why she is going. She isn't even sure that she believes the rumors that she's picked up or the words from someone who described hope being in Seattle. Sybil cannot say why she has decided to trust a person on word alone, why she is heading towards this...she pulls out a piece of paper torn from her sketchbook and looks it over. "Suzzallo Library, Seattle, Washington." Washington is a state she hasn't heard of before but through the history her parents taught her and the other children, the country was once known as the United States of America, divided into fifty states with territories. The young woman isn't sure what to think of this or why she goes and as she rides, she takes a hand off her reins to rest on her stomach, staring into the distance, wondering if she should turn back.

It's becoming steeper now as she moves along, hours passing by in the saddle but she's used to it. It seems to get wilder the further she ventures from home but perhaps her destination is at an end. One bullet's gone...she had to put down a person that was bitten that she came across and she does it without any sympathy, stealing a map he has of the Seattle area for some reason. Maybe he was heading there too before he got bit by an infected. The rest are luckily unused but it might be helpful to loot some stores and get some more ammunition, maybe check her provisions when she gets a chance. Trees are getting denser and she's beginning to climb now, leading Galaxy by her reins to give the mare some rest as she moves upwards, heading up a mountain that she spotted earlier through the distance after climbing one of the trees to check her surroundings. Unfortunately, Galaxy can't go much further up the mountain and she's forced to turn around carefully, leading the horse back down. How is she supposed to get to this city called Seattle?

After searching for a different way into the city, she managed to find a route not on the map but from the looks of the topography, it seems to be quite hilly. Folding the map up, she slips it into the saddlebag and then pulls out the one of Seattle itself as she stands next to Galaxy, safely inside the city limits but far from her destination. Galaxy is grazing on some grass while waiting to be mounted or led to their destination, the horse occasionally looking up to check their surroundings and ears swivel to pick up whatever sounds of nature are out there.
"Well Galaxy, I don't know. We're at least close to our destination but what good is an outdated map?" Galaxy raised her head and looked at the woman as if to inquire why she even stole the map in the first place if it was outdated, giving a snort and toss of her head. Sybil sighs and sits down, spreading the map out before her and then looking at her surroundings. Everything has changed in eighteen....twenty-two years. Even though I'm eighteen, it's been twenty-two years since the disease that took out humanity. Do I even want to be here? Why am I even bothering with this? I should just go home.

"Come on. How difficult is it to find a bloody library?" The clip-clop of hooves upon the pavement echoes in her ears as she passes rundown vehicles, only knowing these from books and understanding they were once important to getting around or old buildings and houses. Some stretch up like trees, those that have not crumbled to the earth below with the passage of time. Roads are broken with cars on them, bridges have fallen and rotted away, vegetation and nature seems to have claimed the land. Even water inhabits some areas and she spits it out when it tastes salty on her tongue after trying some. Some places it's steep and she has to get off and guide Galaxy carefully or find other ways to get around something, at one point jumping a gap where a bridge used to be to the other side after the middle is gone. Everywhere she looks there's vines and grass reclaiming the land, parts of the city seem impassable and she does her best to avoid any buildings, wondering if she should have muffled Galaxy's hooves with cloth before entering the city. It's too late now, her presence is bound to give herself away. Sybil feels like cursing whoever decided to make Seattle a home and send word that people are being looked for but at least there will be food and a bed to sleep in. She's missed it on her journey, even if has let her finally see the world and now, being in Seattle, has let her see what used to be. She still cannot help, though she marvels at the buildings and the way nature overtakes everything, that maybe the infection is a cleansing of the populace so they can start over.

Sighing, Sybil stretches her arms above her head, using her knees now to guide Galaxy through the streets of the city. Occasionally the horse splashes through small puddles from the rain, doing her best to avoid areas that look flooded and finding other ways around obstacles that the her mare cannot jump over without injury. Galaxy doesn't seem to mind, the mare moving through the streets and taking in the scents as well, but there doesn't seem to be any infected about or if there are, then they're hiding somewhere. At one point she ends up at a sign saying aquarium and looks at it, unsure what it is, she looks at the building but has an uneasy feeling about the place so does not investigate. Turning around, she tries to figure out where she is supposed to go now and looks at the map that she's kept out, even though it's pointless. She tries to figure out where the heck she is on the map and decides to just pick a random direction. Grabbing Galaxy's reins, she leads the horse through the streets, mentally cursing her foolishness for coming out here...maybe she should have remained at home in Silver Lake. What had she really been expecting to find anyway? Sybil cannot answer that question as she wanders the streets, coming to a dead end, having to backtrack, and then finally coming across a sign that points her to a university. She followed the road in the direction it said, finally arriving at the university. Now she just had to find the library but she takes her time, taking in the buildings. It's a big campus and she wonders what it would have been like to be here in its day, imagining it bustling with activity from others her own age. Coming to a signpost, she follows the sign for the library, unknowingly heading in the direction of others, still guiding Galaxy.

When she spots the library in front of her, she gives a sigh of relief.
I never thought I would find the place. How many hours did I waste wandering around the bloody city? Well, we sure got a workout. Galaxy suddenly perks her ears forward and the horse nickers loudly, the horse's head swinging as its nose picked up something. Sybil looked at the horse and then around her, putting her other hand on the animal's neck to try to soothe the beast. "Easy Galaxy. What's the matter?"She looks where the horse's attention is and spots people heading across the brick path they're on. Fuck. Are they infected or military? She isn't sure but she slowly slides her hand along Galaxy's neck, towards the saddlebag where she has her gun. She's left a couple bullets in the chamber after having to put down that one person who was bitten, the one she met earlier who told her about Seattle, with the safety on of course. She isn't that stupid. They don't look military...father said they often wore uniforms. But her life isn't the only one needing protection and so she slowly continues moving, hoping they don't spot her if they are infected. Distracted by the two moving across the brick path heading in the same direction she seems to be going, Sybil doesn't notice the one sketching or the girl beside him.
 
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Sir Mayday

Native Son


1eb3a6d0ca127e7dee9a29b2a2938404.gif

Reginald Demir

ce1be9c8e272ef8ccb31bcdded7c8a38.jpg

Ralph Waldo Emerson. ❞

The purpose of life is not to be happy. It is to be useful, to be honorable, to be compassionate, to have it make some difference that you have lived and lived well.

------------------------------------------------------------------------
Location: Spokane, Washington
Interactions: N/A
Tags: N/A


The Departure

He left when the night had settled in their camp and the watchman had started to doze off. In the days prior he would usually cough out a little louder than usual to jostle him awake. To remind him Stay awake, others depend on you. He thought he would get the hint after four..was it five times? If he was planning to stay any longer with these people he would have rebuked the man for his drowsiness or spoken to him to find if there was a problem that deprived him of the energy to stay up. Yet, that night it had become a small blessing

He wanted to make his departure quick and without waking the others. They had been talking of dwindling supplies, how the group was getting too large, and changes need to be made. Some of them brought up the broadcast they picked up on their radio while browsing through the frequencies. The one of..hope. He could still remember the words ringing out of the device. The voice behind them strong, tired, and desperate. Yes, so desperate.

"If you're hearing this message, we are a group of Seattle citizens who are sick of just surviving. We want to live — to wake up with a sense of hope! No one will be turned away, as long as you're willing to contribute to our vision of a better future. We've got food, water, supplies, beds and a secure perimeter. Make your way to the Suzzallo Library, near the University of Washington if you're interested. Stay safe and we hope to see you soon."

It of course got the others talking. It first began as a few questions about whether the message was true or not. Was it a trap laid to make people walk into a lion's den. Was it true? Do they really have enough food and supplies to accept anyone that would show up? Questions sprout up from almost everyone in the camp. And soon the former leaking of doubts, frustrations, and more burst and discussion devolved into an argument. Luckily, no one got hurt. Someone would have eventually thrown a punch if Reginald hadn't stepped in and broken up the fight.

They put it up to a vote and most the group settled on staying where they are for a few days and then heading elsewhere. But not to Seattle. A few have heard of the Seraphites and the fighting there between them and the WLF. At the end of the day, safety triumphed over food. Everyone parted ways, with some grumbles and curses from a few mouths but not many. Yet Reginald couldn't get the message out of his head and while no one was looking turned on the radio again. He had pressed his ear against it while the volume was quite low and listened to the voice yet again try to rally others...and it got him thinking. What did he want? To live or survive?

So he found himself leaving the camp in the night..though he did decide to leave a note. Nothing fancy. Just to wish the group well, and state that their watchman has well.. 'heavy eyelids and really should talk to someone." He even left some supplies for them. They needed it more, and they had been decent people. He was going somewhere where he could maybe get more anyway. Seattle. It wasn't a tough choice. He had been a foreigner among them, an alien who has asked to share their fire and had ended up staying with them longer than any guest should. He would have been one of the first forced to leave with the dwindling supplies. He had accepted that and didn't hold that against them. That wasn't the main reason though.

When was the last time he had lived truly? In Dubois yes..in a community with walls, and they strived to survive and overcome the new world set before them. That had been living. With friends..family. With a purpose in life in which you didn't live just for yourself but for others...God how he had wandered far from that mindset. He had wrestled with his mind why the message had bothered him so much until he decided why. He was not satisfied with what he had become. He was a wanderer, an occasional Good Samaritan as he had traveled from the ruins of Dubois to the Northwest. Keeping to the forest preserves and reservations. Yet that had been simply surviving, a phase of searching for purpose after he left the ruins of his home.

As he walked through the darkness, his eyes quickly adjusting from the transition of fire lit light to darkness, he took a deep inhale of the air. The faint smell of the pines of the faintly flowing in sweetly and the air flowing against his cheek. His steps were quiet yet the crunch of plants and growth under his boots would still startle the sleepiest of the creatures of the woods. He walked quite a distance, and once he knew he was far away and had left those previously behind he took the time to stop. He kneels in the dirt, the buzz of crickets in the air and he took his bag off his back and unzipped it slowly. He reached in, the clang of an object heard and he winced, blowing air through his teeth. He finally took a black book out that was badly in need of repair. It was a patchwork of creases and rip. Most of the pages looked to be stained with a dark drink, and the smell of coffee could be scented lightly. The pages..almost came tumbling out, as the binding of the pages to the cover was almost all gone and barely held there with what was left of the glue and some duct tape..lots of duct tape. Yet Reginald gripped the book tightly and bowed his head.

" Heavenly Father, hear me now. As before thy throne, I bow. My Lord, your kingdom is eternal. Your power is awesome. You work in ways that are wondrous and still awe this servant. My Lord I ask of you something that is more valuable than silver, and yet as rare as a day without troubles in these times. I ask of you for guidance my Lord, guidance with your rod and staff not just for myself but for others. Guide those that are far away from you, to you. Guide those that are seeking you, to you. And keep those that are with you, with you. Guide us, my Lord. My Lord, I travel to an unknown place, that will have unknown people. I have left good people for this journey. Please look over them as they are struggling like many others. My Lord in the days to come, I believe this is the path you wish for me. A path though dangerous, one would fulfill my soul. Protect me, my Lord, in the days to come. As this servant does not simply want to survive. He wants to live. Goodnight my Lord. Amen." Reginald said under his breath. Rising to his feet afterward.

He quickly put everything back into its place and rose to his feet, feeling better and less uncertain about his choice. In fact, his resolve seemed to have strengthened as he thought to himself


I want to live
_________________________________________________________


3688757-last%20of%20us%202%20rapids.jpg

Ezekiel 47:9. ❞

" And wherever the river goes, every living creature that swarms will live, and there will be very many fish. For this water goes there, that the waters of the sea may become fresh; so everything will live where the river goes. "
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Location: Suzzallo Library, Seattle, WA
Interactions: N/A
Tags: N/A


The Arrival

The hardest part has been the rivers, though it was refreshing to be around so much flowing water. He even thought he could fish..just needed a few hooks and some string or rope...yeah that would be nice. He moved cautiously through the city..he was amazed by the tall buildings standing over him..taller than any building or tree he had seen in the wild. So these are the cities where millions of people lived. His boots crunched upon the ground and he looked at the crumbling streets, almost completely overtaken by the undergrowth. The things we lost...a shame..will we ever be able to make things like this again? Is this knowledge beyond us now? He took one looked at the skyscrapers before him and bowed his head..he shivered and felt some butterfly start to form in his gut. I miss the woods.

The first day upon entering the city he had searched for and found a different color jacket. His red one was too bright in the city, and almost had him spotted a few times by people and other creatures. He finally ended up finding a maroon in one of the buildings leading South that was that eaten through by rats and others critters. He shifted in his new Maroon jacket, the jacket a little big for him but it served its purpose against the cold and elements of nature. He straightened up and continued walking, the black bag on his back jostling, and every now and then making a soft clunking sound and making him frown. He needed to rearrange the padding in there it seems.

He made his way from the north, staying away from the bridges leading into Seattle and settling for traveling over the land... bridges seemed too confining to him..trapping someone on a single path..and a bad place to be when trouble comes lurking. He had seen a few others on his journey but didn't speak to them. You didn't know the thoughts of people when not sharing a fire or with others. These lands were truly lawless. He passed a few settlements on the way...a few had warning around them such as 'Shoot on sight.'...yep he felt at home..definitely. He expected this from the stories he has heard along the way. Seattle would be no easy place to settle. Yet he asked himself as he moved down towards the Library he wondered Why build here?

He shook his head as he walked among the road, kicking a stone to the side. He would have preferred something, not in the city..but yet people decided to try and build something at a library. Maybe its because the library has knowledge..wisdom in its books that have survived this long? That would make sense. Using the works of the past to build a better life. Yes, that must be it. He soon started seeing others..people heading the same direction as him. In the distance a big ole and a girl..small maybe a child. A father and daughter maybe. Others were running it seems to get to their destination, he chuckled to himself. He turned his gaze to attention to a more interesting person riding a.. horse...he mentally slowed himself down to not get near it, and already could feel a scratching sensation in his throat..or was he imagining it? None the less. He kept his distance. Walking along the brick road at a leisure pace. The library wasn't going anywhere. He wasn't in the mood to start sneezing or get a rash by getting close to the animal. Though..it was a sight. A beautiful animal. He hummed to himself as he walked along the path, his hood from his jacket covering his head. He walked along the path, looking right and left...but mostly having eyes for the library.

He has never seen a library more grand in his life..and his heart pumped as he took steps and steps to get near. I wonder if we can read any of the books or they don't just let anyone read them? He smiled to himself and picked up the pace a bit. the closer he got to the walls the better. He doubted anyone would start a shootout in front of the library and then be let in. Still..he kept his eyes wandering. He was startled when two other people seemed to come out of hiding, a man seemingly reluctantly following a woman. So many people coming together it seems...he hummed to himself and continued walking. He muttered to himself "Protect us Father. Amen."








 
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mangomilk

big oof
christian porter
the mechanic

It can be lonely out there. That was an emotion Christian rarely felt growing up as he was constantly surrounded by family and other survivors. Once this bubble of the little comfort there was popped, loneliness was something to get used to. And he did. Sometimes it made him feel like the only person left in this world while other times it was the only peace that reached him through fog of spores in the old basements he scavanged.

"If you're hearing this message, we are a group of Seattle citizens who are sick of just surviving. We want to live — to wake up with a sense of hope! No one will be turned away, as long as you're willing to contribute to our vision of a better future. We've got food, water, supplies, beds and a secure perimeter. Make your way to the Suzzallo Library, near the University of Washington if you're interested. Stay safe and we hope to see you soon.“

The radio sent this message on his usual frequency. He took off the working gloves and welding goggles to put everything to a stop and increase the volume. Hope. That word stood out to him as it was something that seemed to be vanishing day by day. And he wondered why. Maybe it was the fact that he was comfortable in the garage he called home in the middle of fucking nowhere. He had rations, clean water and a big project to continue: getting this old jeep going again. But this message changed everything.

It was a quick decision, almost like a short circuit. One moment to the other he couldn’t await to pull up the garage door and get on the next journey to Seattle. It took him a while to finish up the car to travel with though. Originally Christian always used his beloved motorcycle to get to new places, which he found in the abandoned garage in the first place. Due to a rather unexpected incident a few weeks ago, he lost his motorcycle to another survivor he was granting shelter for some nights. What a bastard. If he’d ever see him again, dead or alive, he’d punch him in the face so he’d have a nice autograph of his fist.

Gearing up on supplies and weapons, he had made his way to the supposed safe haven without major problems with potential runners or clickers. The larger problem were bandits because a car was worth so much these days. What's more epic than dodging bandits and letting the wheels squeak in your maneuver while What's up? by 4 Non Blondes keeps replaying 'cause it's the only song on the CD?

"25 years of my life and still
I'm trying to get up that great big hill of hope
For a destination"

Once the faded-out green sign said Seattle in a white font, he released a relieved sigh. What he saw made him gently hit the brakes so he could watch the scenery. It was fascinating how nature just took back a whole city in so little time. The Ferris Wheel he passed looked unstable and yet his eyes flickered at the mere thought of climbing it. Focus, Christian. The Suzzallo Library was his aim to reach before dusk.
The roads were porous and cracked open from roots pushing against the asphalt from underneath. The sun hit the windscreen of the jeep and revealed how poorly Christian cleaned it. Oh well. Even though the rays of sunshine seemed warm, the weather was more chilly than expected when he turned off the engine and exited the car. He put on the beige corduroy jacket that once belonged to his father to keep himself warm. His soles hit the concrete as he was approaching the area of the University of Washington. Christian didn’t let his guard down, in all chaos there was calculation.

On his way there he noticed he wasn’t the only one heading there. In slight distance he noticed more people slowly but steadily getting to the destination. He had a wrecked backpack strapped on his shoulders and it only consisted of the most necessary items. An extra shirt that had a logo from a band. Radiohead? Never heard of them but apparently they were popular. He brought some food; canned beans to be exact. An old family picture. He was a about sixteen at that time and they took it in a still functioning photo automat. It was scratched and close to ripping apart nut he never left it behind. At last he carried a gun in a holster secured to his pants.

He collected his thoughts and checked his surroundings. He prepared for the possibility that this is all just a distasteful hoax, that enemies could be inside the library building just waiting to catch more victims. His mind was his best weapon and he kept it loaded.

With purpose Christian approached the place. It was like the library wore a shield as it still remained in a form that wasn’t completely consumed my plants and bushes. His eyes scanned through the place and he saw two people. A man; middle-aged and a woman about his age maybe with long red hair. He didn’t give those two too much thought, but he’d keep their position in mind.
Seattle, close to the library
cautious
beige corduroy jacket, white shirt, brown pants
vincent, veronica, charlie oliver oliver Archangel_ Archangel_ ReverseTex ReverseTex
coded by natasha.
 

powerline

What's new, Scooby-Doo?
bobbie.
on the road again

‘FM’ and ‘AM’, a pair of a pair. “Don’t mean anything,” she’d said once, taking the walkman from slender fingers and shifting to lay closer to her partner. Their backs were on hay piles loosely draped in sheets. Straw poked through and the earth could still be felt on the ridges of their spines, but they were content in spite of their shared discomfort. She held the walkman to her breast, tucked her chin. “Just a feature its got.” Feature. She could never bring herself to call any part of that little box junk though those knobs and switches had only been useless to her, annoying even, when she bumped the furthest one out and was jolted by the sound of static. And what had inspired curiosity in her girlfriend only ever brought on fear for Bobbie. That noise spread unease through her veins like a swig of bourbon sent warmth from her throat to her toes. Evil almost, like if she’d listen long enough she’d hear alien voices, a whole other side to her mystery box she didn’t want uncovered. The walkman was magic, those long stretches of magnetic tape spellbound - who was she to go pressing into its secrets?

Yet here she was, having listened to the broadcast and found what it had been telling her to go searching for: Seattle, University of Washington, Suzzallo Library. A new home as though her box had known she’d been looking for one. Love had dragged her around for the better part of her life, maybe she was finally walking on her own, maybe it understood that too.

She handled her walkman differently after the night she had, once again, accidentally nudged that switch and, to both her awe and terror, was greeted by a new voice so unlike the ones she spent years hearing. She was careful with it now, so delicate, reaching for it gingerly even though the batteries had long since dried out. Her most prized possession, inutile in its dormant state, but more important now than ever.

It had taken Bobbie days, weeks, wandering down I-5 and putting in faith that those weathered green signs were leading her toward where she needed to go and not away. And when she had found it, Seattle was a big city, she’d learned, it might have taken a lifetime to walk down all those streets had she gone about it stubborn. Hard to find a town, harder to find a house, as if her needle kept shrinking in a haystack. She looted gas stations and bookstores for city maps, praying for a ‘Suzzallo’ as she ran a finger over water stained roads that splintered out like roots until they reached the ocean marked by a blue mass. Put in a little common sense, a little luck, and Bobbie was walking woven brick roads before slipping into off-shooting and overgrown pathways adjacent.

She was familiar with her kind: all dressed up in sheepskin till the moment someone got within striking distance and if she didn’t have some measure of guard up after life’s lessons, well hell, what was she doing alive? Aware of the bodies nearby, she noted footsteps and voices and felt, suddenly, the weight of her hunting knife on her thigh and thought if she had to, she could. Her boot stopped on a rock skidding into the same block of shadow she occupied. Weary. He made her weary like all the passing people had done, but she wasn’t overwhelmed by the fight or flight aggression she had been preparing for. Her eyes continued on, toward the horse and the girl mounted on top of it, and was pricked by a grief she thought she had overcome.

“You from here?” Her attention to the man again, abandoning her isolated walkway to follow him several feet behind and back on the main road again.
suzzallo library
wnl
rain poncho and cap
coded by natasha.
 
Last edited:

oliver

fluorescein


mood:
exhausted
mentions:
christian
interactions:
open


VINCENT FUJIMORI
Long after abandoning Claire, Vincent never imagined he’d be heading to another haven known as Seattle. Months spent caring for himself convinced him that he was better off alone. No one could hurt him and in turn, he wouldn’t be able to do the same. Because of him, Claire could be dead and even though she had her faults, that wasn’t something that Vincent wanted to happen. That part of him argued with another half of himself at all times. She brought her presumed death on herself by forcing him into a difficult decision right after being bold enough to make some heavy accusations.

Meeting another stranger and taking up his offer for shelter wasn’t something Vincent planned either. Against all his proclamations of the boundaries he’d set for himself, the joy of seeing another person that he wasn’t forced to kill was overwhelmingly sweet. They didn’t exchange names, ages, or backgrounds. The entire time was delightfully quiet, and Vincent would have had it any other way.

The detached approach to the situation was a mistake on the other person’s part, however. It made stealing his motorcycle that much easier when once again, the inside feelings ate him up and Vincent had to get away. No note or anything. He packed up and fled in the night without a sound or a clue as to where he was going.

Scavenging brought a small radio into Vincent’s possession. The thought of him actually hearing something on it was funny, but not entirely far fetched as one would thing. The end of the world had mean cults upon cults upon cults. People would broadcast insane messages all the time. Over the course of his lifetime he’d heard several mentioning sacrifices and a white sheep. This one, however, caught him off guard.

"If you're hearing this message, we are a group of Seattle citizens who are sick of just surviving. We want to live — to wake up with a sense of hope! No one will be turned away, as long as you're willing to contribute to our vision of a better future. We've got food, water, supplies, beds, and a secure perimeter. Make your way to the Suzzallo Library, near the University of Washington if you're interested. Stay safe and we hope to see you soon."

Vincent laughed. He had to have been a child the last time he “lived.” Before Cordyceps grabbed humanity by the throat and choked it to death, Vincent had his share of childhood. Flashbacks of his experiences filed into his vision. Vincent and his older brother would go into the woods to hunt each other with Nerf guns—not to blow each other’s heads off with real ones after they’d been infected. They frequented the trampoline parks where he knew how to do all sorts of tricks he could no longer do—like front flips, back flips, and somersaults. He dug the tip of the boot that was on his prosthetic into the cracked asphalt. What a humbling memory. Kids didn’t get that experience anymore.

There was no chance they’d get to at this point, but he understood the desire for something like that. Going to Seattle, at least for him, didn’t even mean he wasn’t smart enough to expect it to be a farce. It wasn’t as if he had anything better to do. All anyone did these days was survive which was something he could easily do on his way to Suzallo Library.

After a fair amount of research, Vincent planned his route to the library before setting off. The guilt of stealing that bike still nipped at him every time he used it. Silently, he thanked the stranger for the generous contribution. It made traveling easier on him, especially with his leg being the way it was. Sure, he could do most of the things he used to but the number of blisters and sores he had to nurse when pushing himself hard was better avoided.

The motorcycle wasn’t going to last forever, and Vincent knew that. A hearty 20 miles away it spat, sputtered, slowed, and ran out of gas. The rest of his trek to the library was done on foot and split over the course of two days. When he arrived, he saw few more people staking out than he would have liked to. Either way, Vincent struggled to hobble up and around several obstacles see the overgrown library in all its glory. Of course, he had no past memory of it to compare it to. Either way—he found himself standing there in awe, even at a football field's length away.
I CAN'T THINK OF YOUR FACE
WITHOUT CRACKING THE BONES IN MY HANDS
I CAN'T BREATHE THROUGH YOUR LIES
AND I THINK I'M OFF SCRIPT AGAIN


 

oliver

fluorescein


mood:
thrilled but cautious
mentions:
none
interactions:
open
tags:
none


MICKEY LIAKOS
“Wouldn’t that be a good idea, Yaya? To go to Seattle?”

Mickey’s grandma was bedridden and barely conscious when message about Seattle sounded through the crackly radio. Mickey could hardly make it out and they knew that their grandma wasn’t listening. She was dying, that much was obvious. But Mickey wasn’t going to let her go all alone, not when she didn’t have to. The death of their parents had been tragic enough, so they owed their survival the past few years to their grandma.

They knew she was gone when they squeezed her hand and she didn’t squeeze back. For several minutes Mickey sat there, chin settled on the ledge of mattress. There was no indication of breathing and their grandmother’s hand was already starting to go cold. Sighing, Mickey stood up, knowing that it was time to get to work and bury the body. They’d spent the day before digging the hole.

Mickey tried not to break out into ugly sobs while shoveling dirt onto their grandmother’s body. Once she was comfortably underneath a couple feet of dirt so hopefully no animal would go digging for her, Mickey place a small bouquet of wildflowers and spent the afternoon carving out their grandmother’s name, birth date, and death date on a stone. They wished they could have dragged back a proper casket, but there was no way that was happening.

Looking across the three graves next to each other, Mickey realized they were all alone. That thought didn’t sit well with them until they understood that while no one would be waiting here for them in Colorado, nothing was stopping them from going to Seattle either.

”I’ll come back some time. To visit.” They promised despite no ears for the words to be heard by aside from their own. Mickey wiped the salty remnants from their eyes with the back of their hand and returned inside the house to prepare for the long journey ahead of them.

It took a whole week for them to mark down the map for the quickest route to Seattle. Their mode of transportation? Mickey’s only option was a bike unless they came across something else on the way there. A truck sounded nice. The family truck had gone down with their parents all that time ago and since then, they hadn’t really needed it. Mickey and their grandmother had been quite self-sufficient with their greenhouse and well. Most trips were reserved for medication hunting or checking the traps they’d set up for a little meat in their diets.

The whole bike ordeal didn’t last long. Mickey resorted to going by foot, but still kept an eye out of working vehicles. Unfortunately, between lacking the skill to fix them up and bad gas, their options were severely limited. It was fine since most of the journey was “downhill”.
Upon arriving to the campus, the literal concrete jungle wasn’t what Mickey imagined. Of course, they didn’t know what to expect. Despite all the stories of large and beautiful campuses, the apocalypse wasn’t paying anyone to take care of them. Year upon years of wear and tear really did a number. Buildings had tumbles while nature took over.

Mickey didn’t hesitate to follow the signs that directed them towards Suzzallo Library. A couple of times they got turned around when the signs weren’t pointing in the right direction, but eventually they came upon what they could only assume to be the correct place. The amount of living, breathing people told them all that they needed to know.

Standing alone, Mickey tried to base their next moves off of how everyone else proceeded. For now, they decided to keep their distance.
ONE DAY I'LL COME FIND YOU
WHEREVER YOU MAY BE
IF ONLY TIME WAS KINDER
YOU WOULD STILL BE HERE


 

idiot

𝙞𝙩 𝙝𝙖𝙨 𝙩𝙤 𝙗𝙚 𝙢𝙚.
Zeva Walker.
SEATTLE — DAY 1.

— TWO WEEKS AGO.

Zeva cried out in anguish, the remnants of the arrow lodged deep in her shoulder. Her clothes were soaked and heavy, strands of loose hair plastered to her face. The dingy boat approached the rocky shorelines of Seattle. Behind her, she could see several faint, orange glows bobbing in the water. They are coming...

Fumbling out of the boat, Zeva fought back the tears pricking at her eyes. The pain was so intense, as though her body was on fire and despite the rain pelting down, it did nothing to soothe her. Emotionally the pain was worse, the arrow in her shoulder belonged to her mother. How could a mother harm her own child? May the prophet forgive her, Zeva pleaded.

There was no time to think about it, Zeva had to find shelter. Bow slung over her good shoulder, Zeva was still clutching the makeshift knife; a shard of warped metal wrapped with rags. The blade was slick with the blood, belonging to a sadistic man. A man who did not deserve the status of Elder. A man who had brought nothing but immense suffering in Zeva's young life. The thought of his decrepit hand on her arm made her shiver. Stop thinking and move.

Gritting her teeth, Zeva waded through the knee-length water, she wasn't giving up. Waves crashed against the shore, almost deafening. Behind her, Zeva could hear the distant shouting which made pick up the pace.

Soon enough, Zeva was swallowed up by the concrete jungle; the tall skyscrapers blocking the illumination from the moon which she was desperate for. Without fire, her eyes were forced to adjust to the harsh darkness. Approaching a ruined store, Zeva slinked inside. Ceramic cups littered decaying tables, foliage sprouting from the wooden floorboards and vines clutching whatever they could. The old world was a mystery to Zeva, yet this place was a shop of some sort and judging by the old chalkboard on the wall, it sold beverages. Coffee?

Zeva took a step forwards before a bright light shone in her eyes — blinding her. The thought of running away was dispelled by the cocking of a gun. Zeva swallowed, eyes beginning to adjust to the light in her face. "Jesus, you're one of those Scars. A fuckin' kid." The man's voice was deep and gravelly, his hulking figure held a double-barreled shotgun. Zeva detested guns — well anything old world she hated really, but especially guns.

"Apostle! We will find you!" A shout echoed throughout the street outside, while the light's beam moved towards her shoulder.

Zeva heard the man sucking air through his teeth, "Now that is a nasty wound, they got you good." He had an accent, which made it clear he wasn't from here. Zeva didn't have time for this, without much thought she swiftly moved the bow into her deft hands, slinging back an arrow. The man was most likely a wolf and she had killed dozens of them on missions for the Elders. He wouldn't be any different. She ignored the pain searing in her shoulder, arrow's head aimed towards his neck.

Yet, at that moment, they both hesitated.

— NOW.

The library was a monstrous structure; with protruding pillars, slowly chipped away with time and the surrounding brick pavement that cracked in places to reveal green sprouts and plants blossoming. One might wish for restoration, yet Zeva believed what was happening was a beautiful thing, she loathed the massive, industrial structures that had replaced the once vast forest.

The sins of the old world brought upon this apocalypse, the Prophet explains it was an awakening to show what such advancements by mankind had done to this planet. Her people lived off the land, taking what they needed and built modest huts to survive. Technology was forbidden on their island and members would be punished for possessing such heinous items. They are not your people anymore, Zeva...Despite them hunting her down, Zeva still believed in the words and teachings of the Prophet.

"Seems quiet, kiddo." The bald-headed giant commented, his shotgun looked miniature in his sizeable hands. She hated how he called her 'kiddo', she wasn't a kid! Zeva was sure he continued to call her that was because he enjoyed her look of annoyance each time. Listening intently, diligent eyes scanned the front of the building; the gigantic windows were mostly shattered, some hefty rope held up a sheet over the building, which read, "ALL WELCOME" — Zeva assumed it was written in black paint.

Novak was right though, it was very quiet.

The pair approached the supposed safe haven, Zeva's bow at the ready, ignoring the faint pain in her shoulder. Novak gripped the sturdy door's handle, meeting no resistance. It should have been locked, why wouldn't they lock it? Novak's dull, blue eyes met hers. Signalling with a nod, Novak threw open the door, charging in. Zeva followed, the foul, overpowering scent of the dead filling her nostrils.

Both demons and humans alike littered the floor; bullet holes piercing furniture and the stone walls with blood smeared everywhere. Novak let out a heavy sigh, delving deeper into the library. Zeva knelt by one of the human bodies, a small hole in the centre of their forehead with a nasty gash on their arm. Demons got them, but someone was alive to save them. Approaching other bodies, similar signs were found — bite marks and holes in the forehead. Judging by the dried blood and the conditions of the bodies, Zeva estimated it hadn't been more than a week or so since this all happened.

Zeva wasn't sure how to feel, she wasn't expecting some utopia yet she couldn't help but frown. The people who once resided here had separated the library into different sections; she could make out a place dedicated to beds, a makeshift kitchen, supply storage and seemingly a place used for planning. Only then did Zeva see the countless shelves full of colourful books. The shelves continued across the entire building and Zeva couldn't help but run a hand along the spines of the books, knowledge right at her fingertips.

A particular book caught her eye, Technological Advances Towards A Better Future. Zeva's curiosity left her to grasp the book, ignoring the pang of guilt from what the Prophet would —

"Hey, I think I found something! Come over here, kiddo." Novak called suddenly, causing Zeva to drop the book onto the ground, a bloom of dust arising. What was she thinking? Zeva shook her head, making her way to Novak.

suzzallo library
downhearted
seraphite 'uniform'
n/a
coded by natasha.
 

Sir Mayday

Native Son


1eb3a6d0ca127e7dee9a29b2a2938404.gif

Reginald Demir

wrong-travel-buddy-770x511.jpg

Izaak Walton. ❞

Good company in a journey makes the way seem shorter.

------------------------------------------------------------------------
Location: Suzzallo Library, Seattle, WA
Interactions: Bobbie
Tags: powerline powerline


Called Out

Paranoia started to set in while Reginald walked. The growing amount of people traveling filled him..with a sense of relief..but also uneasiness at the same time. He remembered a verse from the Bible saying "He lies in wait near the villages; in ambush, he slays the innocent; his eyes watch in stealth for the helpless." In his mind he could see it..those Seraphites or someone else lurking in the shadows near this road..waiting to ambush him or someone. Reginald shivered to himself, his mind deep in thought of screaming Seraphites rushing out of nowhere. When suddenly he heard something.

"You from here?" a feminine voice said from behind him.

His mind shattered his inner imagination and thoughts suddenly and well... he panicked. Now he liked to think himself tougher than most. Lived in the woods, most of his life alone and had gotten used to things just popping up out of nowhere. Wildlife, like those pesky squirrels and rabbits. The occasional wandering group of people or a loner like himself. Even a few stray monsters here and there. Yet as soon as he heard that voice from behind him unexpectedly, Reginald jumped a bit, his head swiveling back, shoulders popping up slightly and his hands clenching into fists. He immediately realized his mistake though as he just saw a woman in a poncho with a cap on her head. He immediately unclenched his fist but it was a little too late..she was a little startled by his sudden movement and her hand already gone to her belt where he saw her grip something.

"Easy there, I ain't looking for trouble," she said warily to him, not advancing but not retreating either. He mentally slapped himself as he closed his eyes and relaxed his posture. He closed his eyes and took a breath before opening them again and saying "I apologize..I'm not looking for trouble either... It...It seems you caught me when my mind was wandering a bit.I'm sorry...I'm not from around here." He chuckled and made a motion to the city ruins around him. She stopped gripping whatever was near her waist, which helped him to relax a bit.

The woman nodded her head and said "Makes two of us." She continued as she gestured to the library in the distance. "I figure you're headed that way?"

"Yes..I am and there seems to be many others as well." He said to her as he turned his head and looked back to the path that led to the library and the other figures running, riding, or walking towards it. He turned back to the woman and said "I thought..I might as well give it a shot..you know? You heading that way as well or passing through?" He said.

Her eyes follow his own briefly before snapping back to his face. There is confidence in her words and her stance. Yet her eyes when he looks at them...there is a look in her eyes that is vaguely reminiscent of a stray dog. She was uncertain. He could see it, and in his heart, he felt like he understood as well.

I know...” she echoes back. She seems to be reminiscing over something before continuing“Depends on what I find really. You done it alone, or are those some of your people?

Reginald responds a little quietly "Alone." He coughs and takes a moment to look at her and her appearance. She was wearing yellow kerchief tied around her neck, and a belt with a heavy buckle. And wearing a poncho with the colors of drab olives and browns. He looked behind her and saw no one as well. He doesn't need to ask..she is alone as well as he could see... Maybe he could take a chance. Seeing as she was going the same place as him. Maybe he can start getting to know the people he would be working with..building with. He looks into her face, and said "I know you don't know me, and I don't know you...But we are heading the same place and well" He tries to give a small smile and seem sincere. as he continued "I would rather someone to talk to besides me..than a stranger behind me... Maybe I can finish the rest of the journey not quite alone hm?"

She seems hesitant for a moment. Mulling it over before nodding her head. Maybe its the gesture, the shrug, or just the camaraderie of being two lonely strangers, but she trusts decides to move up from behind him to beside him. Well still maintaining a comfortable distance, but hey progress. She trades a smile for a smile. “Yeah, I’d like that. Partners?

Reginald smiles back, seemingly happy with the turn of events, and nodded to her. He still notices the distance but doesn't think anything of it, mentally drawing an imaginary line between the two of them and making a note that he doesn't cross it. It would be quite rude. They barely knew each other and he didn't want to make her uncomfortable or more uneasy than she already was if he got into the bubble of her personal space. He starts to walk down the path, the footsteps of the woman somewhat matching his own rhythm. He hummed and turned to her saying "The name is Reginald..but I also go by Reggie. What is yours?"


 

Archangel_

One Thousand Club
Roleplay Type(s)
Veronica Wallace
original.gif

Location Suzzallo Library | UW Campus
CompanyNovak, Zeva
Tags idiot idiot
She'd made it very clear that waiting around, antsy as hell, was not what Veronica had in mind. There was the big sign across the arch of the library that at least lent some relief to the situation. But still, she wasn't sure what kind of WLF or scavenger presence there could be in the area, and if this was a trap or not. She'd hoped, and well it'd gotten them all the way back here, that it was legitimate. What purpose would it be if it was a fake? A lure for foolhardy travelers? A den of Infected, for some sadistic survivor to watch?

The burly guy and the girl went ahead forward, and Veronica was sure that other people would begin to trickle in. It was a bit awkward, everyone waiting and watching for something to happen. Part of her wondered if hanging back until the last minute would be ideal... but at the same time, her gut drove her forward.

She was already moving ahead by the time she waved a hand to Chip, following her last statement, and she had no real intention of waiting for him. He could follow if he wanted, or could wait for her to either crawl out dead or give a heads up that it was all legitimate. Nevertheless, she kept her glock in the waistband of her jeans, one hand protectively posed behind her back as she strode forward. It was mostly hidden by her longer coat, and she tried to mask the movement as normal.

Even as she moved confidently, head high and with a long gait, she couldn't help but let the thoughts batter through her mind. How long till shots would fire? Screams would echo? Was the library even emptied, or were there Infected inside? Although a chronic overthinker, she tried not to let it betray her bravado. If she appeared as unarmed as possible, perhaps the others would lend themselves the same, and not start anything.

Veronica's head tracked the courtyard, taking in the sights. The people posed, waiting, or walking forward as well. It felt like some weird game of Red Light, Green Light-- a game she remembered fondly from her childhood. The stakes were higher here, obviously, and the predictable nature of the people around her not the same as children.

She wasn't terribly far behind Novak and Zeva, but tried to keep her steps light and avoid scaring anybody. Stepping in, her eyes widened. She wasn't sure what she was expecting for a library like this, but the intricate arches and columns spoke to the money that had gone to craft this place. The age, as well, predating anyone left alive-- no doubt. In fact, the library itself was full of everything that wasn't alive. Aside from the two who had entered, and whomever was following Veronica.

"Holy... what happened here," she said with a whistle, concern spreading across her bemused face. Was this the supposed trail to sanctuary? "Hey, are you two... did you get the message? Is that why... you're here?" She asked loudly, but not too loud-- the library had a echo, and she didn't want to risk if there were any undead around. Her brain momentarily lapsed that she'd abandoned Chip outside, but well, he was capable enough.

She continued to look around, her face continuing to blossom with worry, and she kept her hand posed by her hip. Couldn't be too sure, anyway.
 

scorpiodragon

Five Thousand Club

Sybil
"Time is an illusion when there's no hope in the dark."' interacting w + N/A ' Mentions: jay.rain jay.rain (Levi & Nii), powerline powerline (Bobbie)

Nervous
Suzzallo Library, Seattle, WA
jeans, t-shirt, combat boots
code by fudgecakez
- Look over your shoulder and hold your breath -
- There's'a light at'the end of the tunnel -


There's dark clouds on the horizon as she's riding through the countryside and Sybil looked up at them from Galaxy's saddle as the mare moved along an old country road, it's sign having been rotted away by the passage of time. Knowing she needed provisions soon, she urged Galaxy into a trot to try to beat the storm clouds rolling overhead, hoping she doesn't get trapped within a downpour. The mare picks up her pace, the scenery changing gradually from open countryside which makes her nervous and towards the vestiges of an old town. Vegetation has taken over this place, roads cracked and rotted away, vines and trees creeping through and up buildings and homes. It doesn't seem to be a very big place as she carefully picks her way through the streets, eyes searching her surroundings as she moves carefully. Having left Galaxy in a field of grass to eat and get a break, the young woman is on her own, only her knife for protection and her bag where she hopes to stash what canned foods she can find and squeeze into her bag. Held within her hand, the ruby encrusted dragon dagger was made of silver and stainless steel though the blade was of course in its sheath for her own safety. When the blade was in its sheath, as it was currently, there was also a wyvern on the sheath so that it looked like the cousin reptiles were fighting each other. It was one of her few prized possessions that she had brought with her for protection.

Feeling nauseous, she knew she would need to eat something soon. Perhaps nausea was the price of being with child and part of the reason her parents hadn't wanted her to leave Silver Lake. The girl shifted her bag to her other shoulder as she made her way towards what might have been a gas station at one point, the sign having completely fallen away from the cement post that had crumbled to dust though she saw a faded golden seashell on it the sign and the word Shell written underneath the seashell. The old gas pumps are completely empty and she can see a rusted car that she moves towards, its windows broken. Peering into the driver's side, she reaches out a hand and tugs on the handle, forcing the door open. A skeleton falls out and she jumps back as she stares down at it before sliding peering into the front seat and then pulling back to look into the back. There's nothing in there and she breathes out a sigh of relief. Could this have been a survivor that had been killed? The dead don't need what they have.

Sliding into the front seat, Sybil unsheathed her dagger and fiddled with the glove compartment lock, twisting the type of the blade until it popped the lock open. Pulling the tip of her dagger out, she placed it on the dash and let the glove compartment open, causing papers to fall. She bent down and picked them up, curious as to what they were, surprised that they were not crumbling to dust within her hands. Fragile and yellowed with the passage of time, Sybil read through them. Strange little papers that had prices and items on them in two separate columns, a registration saying this car was a 2013 Honda Accord, a strange little card that had a person's picture upon it and several little bits of information. "Eye color is brown, hair is black, is an organ donor? Several numbers...social security. Height 5'10" with a weight of 151 pounds. 198-59-2204 under the words social security." She would turn it over and read something about the person was authorized to drive a motor vehicle and there was a blue star in the upper right corner when she flipped it back over. "I think mother said this was a driver license? So this must be a car."

There seemed to be nothing of interest in the papers she looked through, also finding something that said registration and having a title record of the car. She tapped one of the gauges out of curiosity and searched in the car for a key. She was forced to fish around for it, finding it underneath the passenger seat and came up with it before putting it into the engine. Turning it over, she would attempt turn the car on but there was nothing. She tried again but, once again, there was nothing. The engine just simply would not turn over. Either the battery was dead or there was no gas in the car. She didn't know anything about cars, the cannibals didn't have them or even have need for them so they weren't there but father sometimes worked at fixing the arcade machines when they wouldn't work with what parts they had around or could steal when going into old settlements to get things. She'd watched him do so as a child. Looking at the gauge that showed the fuel, she saw it there was half a tank so the battery must be dead. Checking underneath her own seat, she would pull the lever that popped the trunk and slid out. Going towards the back of the car, she opens a door, having to tug this one as it's rusted shut and is forced to bash the window out before heaving herself inside, cutting her hands on glass as she does so and then crawling in. Landing on the back seat, she begins searching there as well for anything valuable, finding a few cans of food and some empty water bottles. She looked at the expiration dates of the food and tsked to herself before dropping them back on the floor before crawling back out and investigating the trunk of the car. "A blanket...that looks to be it as far as usefulness....oh...what's this?" Taking the folded blanket out of the trunk she found a red box with a red cross over a white circle. Opening it, she found some bandages, gauze, tweezers and some alcohol rubbing wipes. Looking at each item, she would consider it before closing the box and taking that out as well, shutting the trunk. Blood smeared the trunk from her hands, the cuts missing any veins or arteries but stung nevertheless. Pulling out a shard of glass from her palm, she dropped it on the ground, allowing the blood to flow freely down her palm and drip onto the ground, hissing in brief pain.

The darkening clouds seemed to become darker, the sky overcast and she shivered as she watched the horizon. Was it an omen of some kind? Sybil had found an old book on the occult as an adolescent and read through it out of curiosity, discovering some interesting things and things that made no sense to her. Actually, the entire book made no sense to her but it was interesting to read about. She'd got a few provisions, not much, but she'd found some food stuffed into her bag together with the blanket and first aid kit which had been stuffed into her saddlebag, hands wrapped now in gauze and bandages. As she was in town, she decided to look for a place for she didn't have any interest in getting caught within a storm. Finding a home on the outside of town, she enters it and puts Galaxy into an old shed, removing the mare's tack and taking out her items within the saddlebag, carrying everything into the house after shutting the door and putting a plank of wood she finds across it to keep it secure. With Galaxy locked in the shed, she headed into the house after using her dagger to shiv the door open and went inside, dropping her things on the dusty floor and searching each room with her knife in hand, crouching down to avoid detection and hoping there's no infected in the house. Each room is dusty though it doesn't look like anyone has lived here for some time. There's no spores that she can see, no infected or people. Still, it takes a while to clear the entire house, thankfully it doesn't have an attic or basement and she heads raids the kitchen, searching for anything available to cook. Of course there's no electricity anymore, no running water so she can't take a shower or anything which is disappointing but at least it seems safe and she can hopefully rest. Heading back to the front door, she closes it and carries her things into a bedroom on the second floor and heads back downstairs to sit on the couch with her blanket.

A loud banging on the door startles her awake and she blinks sleepily, looking around her. It's darker now, the sky outside itself is dark and she can glimpse a flash of lightning through the faded drawn curtains. A boom of thunder sounds and she thinks that's what she's seen when there's another loud banging. She must have passed out and so she got up, throwing the blanket off her and grabbing her gun which she'd brought downstairs with her for more adequate protection and padded over to the window. Slightly moving the curtains aside, she was able to see that it was dark out and that the storm seemed to be worse, wind buffeting the trees and howling in her ears. She hoped that Galaxy was alright but shrieked when a face suddenly appeared at the window, bluish-gray eyes staring back at her amidst a pale face. She stumbled back as the person pointed to the door, mouthing something over the wind, gesturing towards the door. Should she let this stranger in? Sybil isn't sure what she should do. She's never truly seen an infected before in any stage and has no idea how long it takes for the infection to spread within the body when bitten, she just knows it's transferred by bite and infected live in areas like sewer systems and basements, abandoned subways and places without light and ventilation. This information of course being taught to her by her mother who was a scientist for the fireflies.

The wind hits her, cold and howling as she hesitantly goes to the door and cracks it open, a rain soaked individual standing there before her on the porch. It appears silent from the shed where Galaxy is and she stares at the stranger, neither saying anything, her eyes attempting to search him within the darkness. The stranger is difficult to make out, all she can see is his eyes within the darkness looking at her and she stared at him. This was her first person she had met on the journey and so was a bit startled by his appearance. It looked like he had been caught within the rain. "Please miss, I would like to come in," says the stranger and she looks at him curiously before stepping aside, holding the door open enough for him to enter before shutting and locking it once more.

As he enters the room, he gives her a thanks as he passes her and she nods. After locking the door she turns to face the man, watching as he looks around the dusty rooms, a feeling of nausea hitting her and she has to put a hand to her mouth to keep from getting sick right there in front of him. That would be embarrassing. She gestures for him to take a seat, unaware he's been bitten by an infected and has sought sanctuary after killing the one that bit him before following and sitting on the couch, moving her blanket back over to her spot and going to fetch a spare blanket she'd found in a closet for the stranger to get warm. It's cold...there isn't any wood and she thinks she might stay here for a few days to rest from the journey. Galaxy could probably use the rest as well but maybe it will be nice to have some company. "Who are you? Are you a survivor?"

He shakes his head in answer, taking the blanket she offers him and sits down in an old armchair whose color is dulled by the passage of time. "No ma'am. Former FEDRA," he says to the woman. "Thank you for the blanket and allowing me inside. The weather's horrible out there. I was unfortunate to get caught in the storm but saw this house. Heard a horse nickering so thought there might be someone. Glad I was right." Sybil nods before leaving, heading upstairs for a few moments and excusing herself. As she does, she doesn't see the man checking a bite wound on his ankle he got a few hours earlier by a Runner. As she comes back downstairs with an extra pillow and a can of beans which she'd opened in the room she'd taken over, the man would let his pant leg fall to cover the wound, pulling up his sock and smiling at the woman as she handed the can of beans to the man and a spoon.

"Fedra. What is that and where do you come from?"

The man looks at her as he digs into the cold beans in astonishment. "You must've been living under a rock if you've never heard of FEDRA before or were born sometime after the apocalypse," murmured the man. He pauses to scoop a spoonful of beans into his mouth. Swallowing he decides to speak since this woman apparently has no clue about the world. "It's short for Federal Disaster Response Agency and we used to retain control of many quarantine zones that were set up after the infection broke out. We are, what's left of us, are at odds with the military and only a few quarantine zones remain under control of us. Those that defected joined supposedly went south to New Mexico. I was heading to Seattle before getting caught in this storm but I'm from Denver...or what used to be Denver. Not much of a city now with still being under military control or last I heard. But we're one of the last forms of the United States government from before the outbreak."

Sybil listened as the man spoke of where he had been lived before and she perked up at hearing the man was also from Colorado. Of course she had never been outside of Silver Lake until now but mother had spoken of going to school in Denver. "My mother went to university in Denver. What's so special about Seattle? And I have not been living under a rock but I was born during the middle of the...what did you call it...apocalypse. I'm from Eastern Colorado."

"Hope." The pair would talk for some hours into the night, until the man Jeffrey excused himself to go to bed, the woman nodding and getting up to head upstairs. However, she had not gotten halfway across the room when the man suddenly doubled over. Sybil turned to look at the man, confusion written on her face. What was this bloke's problem anyway?

"Are you...fuck!" Sybil stumbled back, the blanket dropping from her arms as Jeffrey lifted his head and lunged across the room at her, forcing Sybil to dodge his oncoming lunge. Throwing herself to the side, she fumbled for her gun as she watched the man slam into the stairs, her face twisting into horror as the man turned to her and she could him struggling to retain control of his senses but he seemed to be slipping. She watched him as he turned towards her, pushing up from the stairs and lunging towards her again, this time faster then she had time to dodge and so she was forced to do the only thing she had left...she lifted her gun which she'd kept clutched in her hand underneath the blanket when heading for the stairs and took the safety off before firing. Watching the bullet speed towards the man...no the animal because he obviously wasn't human anymore...and slam into his forehead, causing him to drop. "Fuck it! Can't believe that...ugh!" Sybil moved forward, looking at the body and nudging it with her foot. He didn't move but to be on the safe side, she left and made her way over to a broken table. Grabbing up an old leg and setting her gun on the couch, Sybil carried it back to the man and raised the table leg over his face before slamming it down into the flesh with as much force as she could muster. Fueled on adrenaline and fear, the woman lifted the table leg as the bones in the face cracked before slamming the table leg again...and again...into the man's face, cracking bone and crushing his nose, not stopping until she'd cracked open the skull. Blood coated her shirt and the floor as it sprayed out onto the floor. Wiping the blood off, she lifted it one last time and slammed it into the man's neck, pressing down until she heard the neck bones snap and cave, dropping it as she fell to her knees, the adrenaline wearing off of her and beginning to vomit. For several minutes there was only the sound of her retching until her stomach could cough up no more and she stood, wiping her mouth.

"Can't stay here. Where's there one infected, there's probably more." She looked at the deceased Jeffrey and then towards the window, the curtains shut over it. Was there really something out there? Sybil hurried upstairs to grab her things, packing them into her backpack and stuffing the blanket she'd taken from the car at the gas station it as well before going to the man and searching his pockets, pulling out a piece of paper that read Seattle, Suzzallo Library on it. She turned it over and read one word written on there. "Seattle. Hope."


Sybil continued to slide her hand along Galaxy's neck and to her side, until she reaches her saddle bag. If the people running across the brick path in the same direction she was going until she stopped are infected, then she's got two shots and has to make them count. She's been grateful to father for training Galaxy to not be gun shy and bolt, it's a relief when she has to put down people or defend herself. Sometimes, just the presence of a gun on an otherwise innocent appearing woman is enough to scare bandits away, and sometimes it isn't. Though her trip to Seattle hadn't led her into many skirmishes as she had been mostly in the wilderness and skirting towns except for provisions. Upon reaching her saddlebag, she undid the little button that secured the flap tight, pushing up the fringes and letting it lie over the saddle before slowly reaching her hand in, feeling the familiar smoothness of the .40 Glock she carried with her for protection. She kept her eyes on the boy with hair waving behind him and the other chasing behind with a backpack on their shoulders, but a rock skittering caused her to whip her hard sharply, eyes searching the path.

There was someone there in the shadows, she could sense it, but who could it be. More infected or was it a regular civilian? Certainly there were none like the cannibals and from what mother said, the fireflies had disbanded after a cure hadn't been found. Mother didn't even know if the fireflies even existed still though she hoped so. Even if she did not believe in finding a cure, she wanted to meet the people that she had allegiance to through her mother as she had grown up with the people father knew, the Cannibal group of Silver Lake in Eastern Colorado. She would like to, just to say she had done so when she went back home because this might turn out to be nothing but a ruse. Her eyes lit upon movement and she noticed a woman walking along the path before they vanished into shadow. It only made her nervous and Galaxy picked up on it, the horse whinnying and pawing at the brick path underneath. Horses were good at sensing their riders' emotions. They needed to know their owner or rider would protect them, otherwise the horse would not listen and be disrespectful to the human working with it. Galaxy's sensing her nervousness and then pawing at the earth would unintentionally save the two boys rushing across the brick path and the woman in the shadows, for Sybil was forced to remove her hand from her hidden gun, and move the flap of her saddlebag back in place, before patting the horse's shoulder and then taking Galaxy's reins would begin leading her around the area and away from the trio of people she saw, still unaware of the others in the vicinity or that more would come, in an effort to calm the mare down. Galaxy pawed at the earth, snorted as nostrils flared, but followed with a slight tug of the reins from Sybil, the horse's hooves clopping over the brick path as Sybil began walking away from the immediate area.

Reaching a small patch of grass, she would walk Galaxy around in a circle, staying silent and focusing on her own breathing. Taking calming breaths to help relax both herself and the mare which the mare would be able to pick up on, they remained in this fashion, even as people began trickling towards the library itself. Sybil tried to calm her nerves down, but she was still nervous and uncertain about what it was she was here for since she didn't believe in a cure being possible and didn't want things to change. Yet these people...as she looked around she could see more then she thought, most seemingly in pairs. Her mind flicked to Jeffrey, they had spoken of going down to New Mexico where some friends were and then heading up as a group to Seattle but that...had obviously not happened. Since that night when she had fled into the storm after killing a man who might or might not have had some semblance of reasoning and consciousness within him, she had tended to avoid people and houses altogether. It was safer for herself and her unborn to remain on their own. So...why had she come?

Something nudged her and she turned her head to see the mare had been the one to do so, the horse looking at her as if to ask what was wrong or get her attention. She raised a hand and stroked the mare's neck, running her finger's through the mane which she had to work to untangle with her fingers. The mare nickered softly as she worked on untangling the mane, reaching into the saddlebag and pulling out a mane and tail horse comb to groom and untangle the mare's mane, brushing through it carefully while keeping her hand that clutched the reins against the mare's shoulder to let the horse know she was there. Continuing to take deep slow breaths to calm herself down and, by extension, Galaxy, Sybil worked in silence. She didn't care what people thought. horses were as good as dogs and could pick up on their owner's feelings. She wasn't sure if she should follow people into the library though or remain outside. This could all be a trap...but if it was a trap...then by who? She didn't think the infected had the brain power to coordinate an attack, weren't they all supposed to be animals anyway when they were bitten?

Against her better judgement, Sybil would remove a few loose strands of hair from the mane and tail comb before slipping it into her saddlebag. She had not brought a curry comb, brush or the mane and tail brush with her but instead raided an old farm and stolen the items. It wasn't like anybody was going to miss them, what with the world gone to hell in the past twenty-two years or at least the Untied States, she was unsure about anywhere else. Could the country even be called the United States anymore, with the old government having collapsed? She wasn't sure...government was not something she had paid much attention to when her parents tried teaching her about life before the infection. Leading Galaxy with her, she looked for somewhere to tie the horse up, heading towards the library only to stop when she saw it, the mare's hooves clopping along the cracked brick paths with weeds growing up through the cracks. Even set amidst the nature of the other buildings, the library stuck out. It was a testament to what might have been, untouched by the passage of time, untouched by nature. Sybil couldn't help staring at it, her mouth dropping open as she did. "Beautiful." She would need to sketch this place before she left.
 

mangomilk

big oof
christian porter
the mechanic

The library looked like a maze from the outside. It was one of the biggest buildings he could think of, but it’s been a while since he had been at another big city. Christian eyed the ivy tendrils wrapping around the big block as if he would need more time to convince himself to really enter that place.
He sighed. What have I gotten myself into? More people started moving towards the meeting spot and Christian figured he should too. Just when he was about to get going, he caught something…someone in the corner of his eye. That can’t be…, he thought to himself.

A frown was forming on his face while his dominant eyebrows pulled themselves together. He saw the outlines of this young man, he wasn’t very tall but looked strong nonetheless. He wore black hair and all of those impressions coming together made it clear. It really was him. Christian slowly turned towards the slender man and approached him like he was after his prey. Eventually his steps became faster and stronger. "Hello stranger", he raised his brows. While Christian’s eyes appeared like a well of chocolate, the other’s was like pure void, as if his own self was staring right back from a mirror. He couldn’t help but let his lips escape an amused smile. This was hilarious.

"Long time no see." Between them there was a clear height difference and the fact that Christian grabbed his collar didn’t make the situation look much better. His grip was tight and he didn’t very much hesitate to pull his right arm back and punch him right in the face. Even though, revenge wasn’t usually his thing, he had to admit that this felt damn good. And also, revenge sounds so rough, he preferred to call it returning the favor. When seeing the other stumble backwards from his force, Christian shook his hand from the impact. "Where is the motorcycle?", he wanted to know since he preferred to ride it much more than a car. It was just much more easy to use narrow trails.

He eyed the dark-haired male waiting for his explanation.
Seattle, close to the library
angy
beige corduroy jacket, white shirt, brown pants
vincent oliver oliver
coded by natasha.
 

idiot

𝙞𝙩 𝙝𝙖𝙨 𝙩𝙤 𝙗𝙚 𝙢𝙚.
Novak Moldovan.
SEATTLE — DAY 1.

Novak was taken by surprise by the voice and before he could even turn around he could hear Zeva's bow pulling back, notching an arrow. The sunset glow spilled through the large windows, basking Zeva's face and highlighting the scars etched into either side of her mouth.

He let his charismatic smile stretch across his face, his energy polarizing to Zeva's. Don't want to scare her off. An auburn-haired woman stood by the entrance, hand fixated on her hip. She reminded him of someone he knew in his previous life, yet he couldn't put his finger on it.

"Hey, hey...calm down, kiddo." Novak directed to Zeva, who showed no sign of listening, the arrow pointed towards the woman. Peering around the library he realised it didn't look great for them, as though this bow-wielding Seraphite had killed them all. "Uh, yeah, that is why we're here," he responded to the woman's question, "clearly we were a bit late, huh?" Following with a short laugh.

"Late, if you want to put it that way, but your friend there should put her bow down. I don't mean any harm," she said with a raise of her hands, leaving Novak to nod towards her.

"You heard the lady," Novak was by Zeva's side, which seemingly caused Zeva to slowly lower her bow, yet the arrow remained at the ready.

Always a conversationalist first, Novak pressed on forwards, avoiding the bodies littering the ground. Once he was close enough he offered his sizeable hand to shake, "I'm Novak, and the bow-wielding kid is Zeva." A scowl came from Zeva which caused Novak to smile, revealing some of his gold teeth. Novak lowered his voice, "between you and me, she is harmless." Novak smirked, pointing a thumb towards Zeva. He needed to keep the conversation light to cut through the menacing Zeva.

"Harmless, I"m sure," she said with a quick glance towards Zeva, but nevertheless extended her hand to Novak's. His hand engulfed her's, Novak shaking firmly but not enough to crush her hand. "I'm Veronica. It's nice to see... friendly faces. My partner's outside-- I should probably make sure he didn't go blind staring into the sun or something." Veronica? Nice name, Novak thought it suited her.

“Likewise, and yeah invite him in, more the merrier.” Novak heartily chuckled, watching as Veronica twirled around and made her way back through the entrance. Novak turned around to see Zeva placing the arrow back into her quiver.

"She could be one of them." Zeva hissed, her cautious eyes zoning in on Veronica's frame disappearing through the doors. Novak shook his head, knowing trust was hard for the kid. He wasn't sure why she left the island, or why she had that arrow embedded in her shoulder but he knew it wasn't by choice.
suzzallo library
content
beanie, cargo pants, weight coat and a graphic, red tee.
coded by natasha.
 

scorpiodragon

Five Thousand Club

Sybil
"Time is an illusion when there's no hope in the dark."'Interacting with + N/A' mentions: N/A

Enthralled Suspicious
Suzzallo Library, Seattle, WA
jeans, t-shirt, combat boots
code by fudgecakez
- Look over your shoulder and hold your breath -
- There's a light at'the end of the tunnel -


With such beauty before her, and being an artist in her free time as one of her hobbies, Sybil was rather slow to spring into action, enraptured with the beauty of this piece of history that stood a testament against the passage of time. Normally, at seeing something, she would pull out her sketchpad and sketch right away, however she was usually in the forest she knew of as home. This...this was strange and she was surrounded by people that might be infected...having seen one at least go up the stairs and into the library. Perhaps these creatures were in the early stages of the infection...according to mother it took about two days for the infection to migrate through the body and turn one into the first stage, a Runner. She closed her eyes, Jeffrey lunging at her....Jeffrey rushing too quickly to get out of the way....the smell of gunpowder...the blood as she stared into his already gone eyes. The expectant mother took in a shuddering breath and put her hand to her mouth as a wave of nausea hit her. She wasn't normally squeamish about blood...she was a cannibal after all like mother and father, like the rest of her group. She was even sadistic and liked...playing...with her food in a way before killing them. Perhaps it was her pregnancy...or maybe it was that it was her first experience with an infected and killing someone she had...talked with...had thought of joining together to come to Seattle that caused the wave of nausea to hit her.

Breathing out a breath of air, she slowly opens her eyes and slides her bag off her shoulder, crouching down to open one of the pockets to gather out a pencil and then opened a bigger pocket to pull out her sketchpad. Thankfully it was one of those multi-pocket backpacks which was useful in storing her things, she didn't need to cram everything into one pocket and then search desperately for stuff. Pulling out her sketchpad, she then closed the pocket containing her sketchpad, removed Galaxy's bridle so the mare could graze which was then folded and placed on the saddle horn before sitting down next to and flipping through the pages to an empty one where she would begin sketching the library itself and the surrounding area, not even noticing the stranger from before coming back out of the library. Galaxy stayed close by, the horse wandering to graze what grass there was though remained quiet and skittish around these strangers.

The only sound was the pencil moving across the paper as Sybil sat, right in the bloody way of anyone trying to enter or exit the library with Galaxy nearby. The horse would occasionally lift her head as she looked around her before going back to grazing. Sybil normally would take off the mare's saddle and let the horse graze but she did not today due to she still didn't know if these strangers were infected though if they were and she'd come all this way for nothing, it would be a disappointment of a journey this far. Everything seemed to pass her by as she worked on the finer details of the library and the immediate surroundings, not paying attention to anyone or anything else around her. Even as she sketched the world would go by, the woman trusting her horse to alert her to anything that was potentially wrong.




 

oliver

fluorescein


mood:
vexed
mentions:
none
interactions:
Christian


VINCENT FUJIMORI
By the time Vincent heard the voice and noticed the swift movement from the corner of his eye, it was too late. An unfortunately familiar face had hastily jerked him by the collar against his will and spouted hostile greetings. His black eyes flitted from side to side, but no one was there to help him or even witness what was happening. As always, he was completely and utterly alone.

”Oh. This is awkward.” He murmured under his breath. With no choice but to stare at the other in attempts to guess what his next move was, Vincent tried to escape his previous acquaintance’s grip. To no avail, his opponent’s hands only tightened, and Vincent had half a second to prepare for what was going to happen.

When knuckled cracked against the flesh of his cheek, Vincent couldn’t have said he was surprised. The most unexpected element to this series of events was that he wasn’t killed yet. This, however, didn’t make his face sting any less or make the sudden stars behind his eyes go away. The fact he was missing a leg also didn’t help his balance. The other let go and not only did Vincent stumble back, but he tripped over his prosthetic and fell on his ass.

Vince raised a hand over his head signaling for the other to wait as he tried to gather himself. The other was angry, but not enough to kill over his motorcycle evidently. Gently, Vincent touched his own sore cheek and winced. His past actions were pathetic and the guilt never drained from his stomach. He was upset, but not at his assaulter. The other had good reason to do what he did.

Drawing in a deep breath, Vincent finally looked back up at the other before pushing himself off the ground. ”I deserved that.” Vincent stated coldly, brushing his clothing free of dirt and grime that he picked up from his all. “About 20 miles east, I’m guessing. I can show you, but it’s out of gas.” After smoothing back his hair, he glanced at the other.

”Don’t worry, I took good care of it. Thanks for letting me use it, by the way.”

He genuinely meant that. It gave his leg a well-needed break from the constant blisters and sores he developed as a result of traveling on foot to most places. But, considering he and the other arrived at the same time, he could only guess how he managed to pull that off. ”How did you get here? Did you know I’d be here?” Vincent asked with a small tilt of his head. Motioning for the stranger to follow, he started his journey towards the extravagant university library investigate the claims of the radio.

”You were pretty comfortable at your home. I’m surprised you left for what I assume is…” Vincent pointed ahead at Suzzallo. "To each their own, I suppose."
I CAN'T THINK OF YOUR FACE
WITHOUT CRACKING THE BONES IN MY HANDS
I CAN'T BREATHE THROUGH YOUR LIES
AND I THINK I'M OFF SCRIPT AGAIN


 

ReverseTex

RPN’s Residential Politician
chip kessler

Instinctively, Chip has skirted to a halt outside of the library. Veronica was the more trusting of the two, which meant she was typically more gung-ho to scope out new territory. The sudden pause allowed for further examination of the area. The Suzzallo library stood stoically over the newfound Washington vegetation. The American -gothic style architecture reminded him of Washington National Cathedral. The long spires, as well as the arched windows, were staple pieces of the era. In his opinion, however biased, the cathedral looked better. Sighing to himself, he decided it was likely time to check the interior.

His stomach sank as he placed a weathered hand on the door. As he began to open it, the pungent stench of decay tickled his nose. Years ago, he would’ve gagged at the vile stench. Now it was just an annoyance. As he fully entered the open library, Veronica’s voice echoed down the chasm. It didn’t sound distressed. Good. Adjusting his glasses, he struggled to make out the two individuals she was speaking to. But from the tone of voice in the echo, he figured it was the burly man he had noted earlier.

Chip found himself exploring the shelves of the university library. Being close to the books, the scent of aging paper triggered his mind to relapse in his college days. The nights spent either drinking himself sick, or, falling asleep over a book in the Lauinger Library… Stopping his slow walk down the shelves, he found himself in the reference section. Thesauruses, photography books, and dictionaries all lined together. Running a hand against the glossy spines, dust accumulating as he went, he stopped at the sight of one book in particular.

Then and Now. The Photographic History of Washington D.C.

Afraid that his eyes fooled him, Chip snatched the book off the shelf in haste. Flipping through its pages warmed his soul, seeing the familiar landscape of his home. Part marble jungle, part ghetto suburbia, part natural beauty. All factors made up the District of Columbia… Smiling to himself, Chip hastily tucked the book away in his backpack. Just as he contemplated searching for meteorology books, he felt a gentle hand on his shoulder.

“When did you sneak in? I don’t remember you having quiet feet, Chip,” “You know that’s the only thing I’ve got going for me in this shitshow.” He retorted as he turned to face Veronica. “Anyway, those two over there, I’ve managed to talk them down a bit. The girl, Zeva, is a Seraphite, I can see the scars. I’m not going to attack unless she does first, and I think you should follow suit. Guy is Novak, seems nice. There’s plenty of other people coming, so we should work with them to look around. See if anything was left behind.” As she spoke Chip examined each individual as they were described. Scars meant nothing good. He’d kill both of them right now if he had his way, in fact; he’d kill everyone. All the supplies for themselves. But he had to be realistic. And playing nice had to be accepted. “Just say something about the weather in the conversation and I’ll strike. If it comes down to it.”

Veronica led him back to the two: Zera and Novak if he remembered correctly.

“Hey, this is my number two. Chip.”

“Chip?” Zeva looked confused, as though testing the word on her tongue. Chip’s good eye sent a dart towards the scarred girl. He was in a volatile mood.

“What she means to say is, Chip is a great name! Nice to meet the lovely Veronica’s partner.” Novak would extend his hand towards Chip, the same charismatic smile on his face. His eyes would linger more on Chip, as though eyeing him up and down. For Veronica’s sake, he shook the man’s hand in return. His eyes, both good and bad, glared at the bouldering man as he did so.

“Listen, we should split and look around the place. I’ve got a bad feeling, what with the--” she gestured around. “You know. If this is supposed salvation, I’m not seeing too many arrows pointing to it.” Veronica interrupted.

“That’s not a bad idea, I found something over at the table there” Novak gestured to a table situated to his right; a large table has several papers scattered over it with a whiteboard written on. A map along with other pinned notes is situated on a neighbouring cork board. “It looks like a headquarters of sorts, maybe a war room.”

Chip made his way to the map, eager to leave the group behind for a small moment. He ran a hand over the course paper, his good eye following the streets and pins. “My guess is WLF. Probably older by my guess with these routes. You agree Ronnie?”

“Seems about right. Someone who left them...or the WLF themselves?”

“You guys seem well versed with the WLF, you used to be members or something?” Novak would ask, having followed them.

Veronica cut in quickly, “We left long ago. No sense beating around the bush. But we aren’t anymore.” She gave a look to Zeva and Novak. (Something with furrowed eyebrows and a stern glare)

“Quite authoritarian if you ask me.” Chip mumbled, realizing only the older man would likely get the reference.

Whilst the trio is occupied, Zeva is examining the bodies in the distance, unaware of the conversation. Novak glances back to her then lowers his voice to the pair, “I could care less, we’ve all done shit we regret. Just uh, maybe don’t tell the kid that.” Novak peered at the notes on the table, “whoever was in charge knew the routes like you said, plus they use military time.” He points to the routes times, “we are definitely dealing with someone who is informed with the military, maybe the return of FEDRA?” Novak questions, eyes scanning the table and map. In the distance, Veronica or Chip may notice Zeva slipping a necklace from one of the dead body’s neck into her pocket before approaching the entrance.

As Novak droned on about his thoughts, which Chip cared little about, he eyed the young girl accompanying him. Thieving from corpses normally didn't bother him, however, it only made him distrust the girl more...

“We aren’t alone.” She’d hiss, her keen eye seemingly spotting someone outside, raising her bow.
 

scorpiodragon

Five Thousand Club

Sybil
"Time is an illusion when there's no hope in the dark."'Interacting with idiot idiot (Zeva) + ( mentions: idiot idiot (Novak) ReverseTex ReverseTex (Chip) Archangel_ Archangel_ (Victoria)

Shocked, Hostile, Wary
Suzzallo Library, Seattle, WA
jeans, t-shirt, combat boots
code by fudgecakez
- Look over your shoulder and hold your breath -
- There's a light at the end of the tunnel -


Another person would move past her and pause at the door to the library as Sybil would continue to sketch the library, her pencil moving easily over the sketchpad with practiced ease. Briefly as the door opened she heard voices, but when it shut again, these voices were muffled and she did not glance up to see the man who had been sitting on a bench with some woman, something she hadn't paid much attention towards or honestly even knew about. Nor did she think to move out of the way of others potentially moving towards the library either, there wasn't much of a vantage point where she could sit and sketch from somewhere high and besides...Galaxy couldn't get on top of a building after all. She glanced over at Galaxy, beginning to sketch her mare into the surroundings as well, the mare grazing on some of the grass still and as she did she looked around for some place to tie the horse though Galaxy had been trained at ground-tying. Still, she did not someone to steal her horse, unaware that this was the thought of the person who had entered the library.

Should I go inside? What if there are infected in there? I can't possibly fight them all...but the people outside...they could be infected as well. It worried Sybil...she didn't know what all these people were here for and they seemed to pretty much have comrades with each other though the young woman didn't mind being alone, much. She had Galaxy after all and though the mare couldn't talk, the horse was faithful and loyal...quiet and skittish around strangers. It wasn't hard to sense the mare's unease as she stuck close to Sybil as she sketched, the mare lifting her head every so often and studying her surroundings. Though her sketch took a while, she was pleased with the results, this being the first chance she'd gotten to sketch a building like this, even sketching the strange obelisk to her left which was overgrown with vines and looked close to cracking. She was surprised it had not fallen over. Was it a testament to the engineering capabilities of humanity before the infected spread like a plague across the world?

Slowly she climbed the stairs to the library, having placed her sketchbook and pencil back into her backpack upon finishing her sketch of the library and its surroundings. Sybil's thoughts were swimming in her head as she made her way up the stairs to the library, taking in the architecture of the place...it looked quite old. Clutched in the woman's hand was her gun that she had retrieved from her elk hide saddle bag, it rested lightly within her hand as she tilted her head back to look up at the sky and towards the roof which she couldn't sadly see much of, but what she could see, it seemed to be as beautiful as the building exterior itself but the question was, what was the inside like? "What the hell?"



She was met with a scene of death, the stench hitting her nose which didn't bother her all that much but still, it was a shock to see. That was all she got to glimpse however within the open door, hearing voices that cut off upon her presence, making her wonder if she'd found the wrong place. However, she couldn't pull out the piece of paper she'd taken off Jeffrey's corpse because there was an arrow set against a bow that was pointed at her. Instinctively, the woman's gun hand raised, taking the safety off as she did so. Eyes darted warily betwixt person to person, counting four souls in the library, four living souls amidst the carnage before her that reeked of death and decay, the pair of women standing at a standoff, each armed, albeit with different weapons. It was just a question of who would shoot first. She only had two bullets in the chamber so she'd need to dodge the arrow if the other fired, then fire before another arrow could be notched and fired.

 
Last edited:

mangomilk

big oof
christian porter
the mechanic

Christian’s hit left a vicious sound in the air. He watched the other stumble backwards, ending up on his butt on the cold dusty ground. He took one more step but before he was able to act, the man raised his hand. He held himself back, he wasn’t a fighter really. The fact that he stole a precious item was one thing, but it angered him more that this person took something when he gave him shelter, and regardless he decided to not care if the loss of the motorcycle would mean another difficulty to survive. Nonetheless he listened. "Don’t worry, I took good care of it. Thanks for letting me use it, by the way." It made Christian clench his fists. "I didn’t let you use it. You just took it", he corrected him and crossed his arms. The moment of violence was finished. The other raised his word but expressed it in a sheepish tone. "Either way, it really helped me out." Still. "You’re lucky I didn’t catch you right away." He couldn’t help but curse a little more.

A few moments passed before the man caught himself again. "Hey, I’m sorry I stole your bike. I’ve got a bad habit of deserting people. But, I’m glad you’re safe. I kept thinking about you." Christian didn’t expect to receive an apology…and it seemed to be genuine as well. His lips twitched for a second, leaving a slight smile on them and revealing his dimples. "You’re forgiven. But if I catch you, stealing my stuff again, it’ll be more than just a punch in the face, got it?" This should be his warning. "If there's a next time, I'll see it coming. And lucky for you, that's a big if.“, the other said half jokingly. So far so good. Now that there was no more bad blood, Christian let down his guard towards him a little.

"How did you get here?"
"Remember the truck at my place?" Back then it was still dusty, many bumps, broken lights and no keys or battery to be found. "I got that baby going again after a while." Did he risk his life to find another battery? Yes. Did he want to tell him about it to make him feel guilty again? No. "It was fine.", he assured while lying. "Did you know I'd be here?" He raised his brows. "I’m sorry that might be a shock to you, but my world doesn’t orbit around you.“, he sassed. "Well it’s still quite the coincidence we both ended up here at the same time”
"I came here ‘cause I heard about this place. I wanted to see it myself."

When the stranger motioned to get going, he nodded and followed him. There was no need to be petty about the past anymore, maybe they’d be better off approaching this place together than as lone wolves. "How’s your leg?" He felt a bit guilty from his attack earlier. The black-haired male just pulled his pants up to show him his terribly hand-crafted prosthetic. "Well it’s gone now. So, there isn’t much to fix." He heard him chuckle. When he mentioned how his home was quite comfortable considering the situation, he nodded in thought while getting closer to their aim.
"I was pretty comfortable there. That’s the problem." Christian didn’t want to rot in this moldy garage all by himself. Even though it was something close to a safe haven already, he preferred to live in this wide pit of death and risk in the midst of people who struggled just the much as him. "It was time for me to leave. It will serve another traveler well I hope."

They slowly climbed up the stairs one by one, sometimes jumping as the marble material was cracked and broken. All of a sudden he remembered something. "I’m Christian by the way.", he sighed amused. After all they hadn’t even introduced themselves. Better late than never, right? The deeper they entered the library, the less promising it became. What happened here, he thought silently. The scent of decaying corpses laid on the tip of his nose. It seemed like infected got them after all, but the remaining wounds revealed their final moments. Someone took them out with weapons. Fuck. Christian heard voices from the other room, a few of them actually. He looked at his companion and lifted his index finger to his lips. They shouldn’t attract anyone right now. Slowly he climbed up the last stairs and followed the sounds while reaching out for his gun. He crouched up as close as possible and hid behind a bookshelf for children before taking a peek. Five people, they didn’t look like they came here together. He wondered if those were the people left alive sending the message on his radio or if it were those who killed them. Suddenly he watched the movements of the young girl. She seemed to be younger than his sister, and she wore scars on her child-like cheeks. A Scar? On her side there was a big man and another man with a red-haired woman…he remembered those two. On the other side of the room, a young woman raised her gun, seemingly scared and overwhelmed.

How Interesting, he thought. "Easy", he raised his low voice as he already leaned on the mini-bookshelf with both of his arms. He smiled a bit as it was just interesting to watch how this unfolded. He looked so effortless in his position but he figured, he’d be fine. "We’re all here for the same thing aren’t we?" Christian slowly lifted himself up with the gun still in his hand but making sure to not lead anyone to the conclusion he’d shoot. Next up he eyed the young blonde woman.
"You. Take that gun down, this isn’t a western."
library
entertained
beige corduroy jacket, white shirt, brown pants
vincent, zeva, novak, chip, veronica, sybil oliver oliver idiot idiot ReverseTex ReverseTex Archangel_ Archangel_ scorpiodragon scorpiodragon
coded by natasha.
 

Archangel_

One Thousand Club
Roleplay Type(s)
Veronica Wallace
original.gif

Location Suzzallo Library | UW Campus
CompanyNovak, Zeva, Christian, Chip, Sybil
Tags idiot idiot ReverseTex ReverseTex scorpiodragon scorpiodragon mangomilk mangomilk
At least Novak and Zeva seemed to have inclinations of cooperation. Novak, mostly, being the bulk of the words exchanged. Veronica was prepared to try and distill her own reservations about Scars, but the kid seemed as questionable as someone indoctrinated in a crazy cult could be. There was some merit that Zeva was here, relatively alone, and not hounded by a whistling hoard of weirdos. But when things came to it, Veronica wasn't entirely sure what she would do if a situation arose. In their time with the WLF, they'd seen plenty of encounters with Scars and the like. Murder on both sides, torture, brutal defending. Veronica was an avid believer in new loyalties, as long as they were stronger than the bonds before. Long-standing loyalty trumped all, but she was prepared to me allegiances so long as they held up.

With everything going on in the library, it was probably imperative that everyone worked together. Clearly they were all here for that singular goal, a supposed salvation, but had hit a mighty roadblock in that pursuit. She wasn't as devastated as she could have been, because what salvation would be waiting with golden gates? Nothing came easy, not with undead prowling the corners of life and mind.

She was prepared to take a closer look at the map, and the scattered papers, but Zeva heard something. Veronica immediately felt her hackles rise, hand once again going to the glock tucked in her waistband. The rifle was bigger, and would probably do more damage, but the glock was faster. If there was going to be a rush, quick thinking would prevail.

Zeva raised her bow, Veronica moving slowly behind the younger girl. She gave a look to the others, something between confusion and intrigue. Following right behind Zeva, not yet with her gun at the draw, she noticed that a girl had her own gun pointed directly at Zeva. The girl was a young thing, probably barely twenty.

A man came as well, immediately seeking to diffuse the situation. 'How many damn people are going to show up?' Veronica thought with a small frown, but she wiped the absent thought away quickly and focused in. Her hands didn't raise, but she hoped that her level voice would be a pacifist indicator.

"You can ease up Robin Hood, put the bow down. There's more of us than her, relax," Veronica said, lowering her voice for the last sentence. She locked eyes with the guy, and the girl with the gun. She nodded to him.

"Seems we are. Don't suppose you know about any of this, do you?" She asked him, pointing with her foot to a random corpse in the corner. "We just got here, found this. Doesn't look too hopeful for any kind of... anything. If we put our guns down, and knock our heads together, we may be able to piece together what all this was." Veronica spoke this to the man and the girl, hoping that including them in the discussion would numb any kind of predetermined hostility. Once the girl put the gun down, Veronica would be inclined to start introductions. If she didn't put it down, well, it was either time to fling things at the girl's head or go for some kind of mediation route.

She couldn't count on her fingers how many similar occurrence she'd run into with Chip, or even by herself. She'd always wished for a return to some kind of mutual trust between living people, as there really weren't too many these days. She could hardly remember life outside of her family, and their friends or the community, but positive outcomes were something surely missed. Veronica had been thankful that she'd managed to earn Chip's trust, especially after the decimation of her Firefly group. The world had been looking bleak, and it still sort of did, but having people that either gave a shit or had genuine kindness was a rarity.

Until guns started firing, of course. Then, and only then, would Veronica put all decency aside. She'd learned that the hard way, more than once.
 

scorpiodragon

Five Thousand Club

Sybil
"Time is an illusion when there's no hope in the dark." Interacting with idiot idiot (Zeva) + mangomilk mangomilk (Christian) + Archangel_ Archangel_ (Victoria) mentions: idiot idiot (Novak) ReverseTex ReverseTex (Chip)

Shocked, Hostile, Wary
Suzzallo Library, Seattle, WA
jeans, t-shirt, combat boots
code by fudgecakez
- Look over your shoulder and hold your breath -
- There's a light at the end of the tunnel -


The atmosphere was tense, neither she nor the stranger with the bow and arrow moving nor were the man flanking the one with the bow doing anything. Her eyes darted towards the other stranger off to the side as he stood there, finger still resting on the trigger. On the floor were several bodies...she briefly glanced down at them. A close body near her could be discerned as having a bite wound and bullet hole in the head. This meat was no good then to consume...as Jeffrey's wasn't. The expectant woman was tense. If she could get the woman with the bow, she could potentially take out one of the others near the other. What if they had killed all these people or the infected?

Another voice...another figure appearing out of the woodwork and her gun swung towards this newest potential threat instead. She was, at least in her assumption, correct, given she could see the gun in the man's hand lazily as he leaned onto a miniature children's bookshelf with his arms, the gun he held close at hand. Father's words rang in her head in that moment. "Sybil, don't let your attention waver because it could mean life or death. Don't take the safety off your gun unless you plan on shooting someone or something. It's not a toy and the safety must always be kept on and the gun itself put away when not in use. Bullets are scarce so be careful to save them as well. Keep a level head and a steady grip...shakiness will cause your bullet to falter and you could potentially blow your own foot off or injure someone else you love without meaning to."

"Tell her to put her bow down first and you, put your gun down," hissed Sybil. "How do I know none of you killed all these people? You could all be infected in the first couple days of changing." No. She shook her head, gun hand flickering back and forth betwixt the two with weapons...even if the man didn't look like he was going to shoot. It didn't mean the girl wouldn't. It didn't mean these other people didn't have weapons on them either. No, it was best to be on her guard...but Sybil knew she was outnumbered. Here for the same thing? That's rich, coming from someone who is also armed. Fuck...what to do?

No sooner had she answered the man who told the girl with the bow to put it down, did the woman she had glimpsed earlier come up behind the one with the bow, still aimed at the potential hostile as Sybil wracked her brain for the best option of either fight or flight. Flight seemed highly necessary here, the red-head telling the other to put her bow down and then questioning the man leaning on the children's bookshelf, giving him a nod as well. Do they know each other? No...it seemed they did not for her question was soon answered as she would be told to lower her own gun as well as the other leaning against the miniature bookshelf, offering an explanation to all present about they just having arrived here as well and finding this scene of carnage. Could Sybil outrun both a bow and a gun?



Slowly she would her gun, after flicking the safety back on, but it never left her hand. Hesitantly, Sybil would move inside the library though she didn't move towards the others, nor did she move far from the door as her gaze took in the various strangers standing separate from each other, then to the bodies on the floor before letting her eyes dart back towards the strangers spaced out. Her hand tightened on her gun regardless as she gazed at everyone around her. Why are there so many people here? I guess I shouldn't have expected much less...rumor has it there are a ton of survivors scattered in some town in Pittsburgh, according to father anyway. Damn...I wish there some people here to back me up.She hadn't thought she would miss home so much as she did now, what with being cornered and all...and there might still be some outside for all she knew. Like that presence she had sensed in the shadows earlier upon arriving.

"Who are you?" The question would be posed to the red-head. They were here for the same thing? Did that mean they were also people who had heard word of this supposed sanctuary by radio or word of mouth like Sybil had? Not much of a sanctuary. Not much meat either...it's probably all poisoned, judging by the bite wounds I glimpsed earlier. Still, if there were none but the dead, they wouldn't mind her searching their bodies for anything useful. Maybe a book too so she'd have something to read, definitely more sketchbooks if she got the chance to raid an art store or grocery store. Her parents had said grocery stores were something that housed all sorts of food grown locally and across the country, even shipped from other countries around the world, that the stores had been looted by military, hunters and survivors and didn't exist anymore most likely. Hunters...they might have ammo. She would need to be on the lookout for them...father had said they were a bit tough to beat as they worked like the military in a cohesive unit but had a more primal mindset. "How many more are there of you? If we're...all here...for the same thing..."

 
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ReverseTex

RPN’s Residential Politician
chip kessler

The sudden hysteria caught Chip off-guard, causing his reaction time to be delayed. Luckily it worked in his favor. What appeared to be a small-figured blonde had pointed a gun back at the Scar girl. Fantastic. Maybe one of these fuckers will have the balls to do it. Chip thought as he slowly stepped away from the Mexican standoff. Before any of the pre-established patrons could intervene, another figure entered the room. From what he could tell, he seemed to be a younger man by the time of voice. Regardless, another weapon was drawn.

“This is fucking ridiculous…” Chip mumbled under his breath. This was a Veronica situation: not a Chip situation. And she knew it too. Which triggered her to take charge of it… He had little patience for stupidity. If any of these individuals were observant they’d know others were inbound. And with that comes compromises; not standoffs… But what did he know. He was an old man in the grand scheme of this “new world.”

“Let’s all fucking put one and one together here. Supplies equals interest. We’re all interested in it. There’s bodies here, but if you had a pair of eyes you’d see they’re older. Cold to the touch. Don’t believe me go finger one yourself.” He could make out a light scoff from Veronica despite her serious position in the standoff. His good eye briefly glanced at her, the displeasure almost tangible. With a begrudged sigh, he continued. “Like it or not we’re stuck in the same position. Best to work cooperatively. Trust me if I had the choice I’d shoot all you sorry souls now. But I’m a realist. We can’t all have what we want here. Suck it up and why don’t you folks be productive to this current operation.” Chip promptly went to retrieve a dusty wooden chair, it’s skid cutting the silence like a fart in church. Once satisfied in its location barely breaking the shadows, he took a seat. He could care less what went down, but he’d surely be amused.


 

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