[ blood red ] open + accepting

[.red]

▬▬▬ ＪＯＳＨＵＡ ▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬

[ the doctor ] [ 25 years ] [ health ▰▰▰▰▱ ] [ pri sec ] [ tired, distracted ] [ tags - Tyler ]

Joshua had always loved children. Always. Being the youngest in his household, he never got the experience of having a little brother or sister to take care of. He wished he'd been born first, though at the same time he couldn't have asked for a better older brother. In his own way he was rather childish, traits that you'll soon discover dear friends. He was a little reckless at times, a bit in the moment a little too much. He figured that's why he related well to the younger generations. Before the outbreak, he was actually studying to become a pediatric surgeon. There was so much reward from the practice. Every day he hated that he would never get to actually be certified. Children were the greatest. He absolutely adored their never ending energy, their smiles, their light. They were so untouched by society's influenced. Their naive and innocent nature was simply alluring to the doctor. He wished for kids when he was older, when he'd found the perfect girl and settled down. However, seeing that now there were dead people roaming around and eating them, that wish seemed a little more like far away dream each passing day.

It was because of his adoration for the young that he didn't mind the antics of the fifteen year old as much as another might. As her hand reached for his machete, he willingly released it in order to prevent either of the two from getting stabbed during a brawl for the weapon. It was sly. He liked playing along with the girl. He liked to believe that it got her mind off of the gloomy atmosphere of the world. Any chance he got, he would want to be able to give her at least a moment of distraction. A moment of joy in the face of despair. "Girl I will sass you and your manly screams all I want," he teased, snapping his fingers in quite the flamboyant motion. Joshua watched as she cast her eyes upon the stashed that he kept. They were neatly organized, and he made it a habit to keep it as clean as physically possible just in case somebody needed a drastic surgery or something. He liked to always be prepared for the worst. In this world, the worst was indeed likely, after all. It was indeed a gloomy thought, one that crossed his mind and lead him to be on the pointy end of his own blade. She issued an en garde, and he raised a brow. "You know that just means 'warning' right? The French didn't want their opponents to get hurt while sparing so they gave them a warning instead of actually stabbing 'em." Josh knew interesting facts that most people didn't know. He wasn't actually sure of this was a fact, only that a very reliable source had relayed it to him. "So by that thought, you're not actually going to stab me." The man smiled in a cheeky little victory. Well, hopefully she wouldn't stab him anyways. Seeing that he was the groups doctor and all. They kind of needed him.

"Do my bidding, huh?" he questioned, rather pleased at the sound of those words. "In that case, I would like some Skittles. I miss Skittles. In all seriousness though, I always need more gauze." He nodded as his eyes carried a more weighty vibe. "Oh, and Tyler?" The important stare remained. "Always pay attention to your opponent," As he was speaking, Joshua grabbed his secondary weapon from the sleeve tucked along his spine. In one practiced motion, he twisted the blade around that of Tyler's (or, his?) and flung it to the ground. As if she were his dancing partner, he grabbed her free hand and spun her around so that her back landed against his chest. The blunt side of the machete rested below her clavicle. "And the other weapons he or she may possess." He finished his statement with a grin. The doctor released his little prisoner and picked up both knives, placing them in their proper holders on his body. "And hey no sparing in the RV, I have important stuffs in here," the man said childishly.

[parlaymars]

ＷＩＮＤＳＯＲ
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⊱xxＴＨＥ ＢＯＳＳxx⊰
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location: 1540 ryan rd, ralston, WY
primary weapon: camillus sin tomahawk
secondary weapon: silenced pistol
health: 94%
tagged: nirav, nasir

───────────────────────────

-------Windsor gives Nirav a small, quirked smile, blue eyes focused on something else. She'd been worrying over the food shortage, knowing how to fix the problem but unable to speed up its' outcome. In order to find food, she had to send out the scavengers, and they were already up - Tyler presumably to pester one of the more medically-inclined - and Windsor's part of the task, then, was complete.

-------She doesn't fare so well when there's nothing to be done.

-------Luckily, or unluckily, depending on how you look at it, the work is never done when one's fighting for one's own survival. Windsor knows she's lucky to have such a good group at her back. Nirav, especially, is invaluable when it comes to sorting out the mess that humans seem to bring with them always, no matter the circumstances - infighting and romantic entanglements. "Sure you're feeling alright? It's rather early for you to be up." she remarks, half in jest, her eyes flickering to her lieutenant's face. They look remarkably similar today, both tall women with dark hair and angular faces, hair pulled up into matching ponytails. Windsor is secretly pleased, it's good to see that they're a united front, even if it's just in physical presence. She opens her mouth to go over rations once more, to see if she's counted correctly (Nirav always catches her mistakes), but suddenly Nasir is at her side and she feels her jaw snap shut of it's own accord. -"good morning, windsor, nirav."- And oh, oh, if it had been another time in another place, she would have stammered and blushed like a schoolgirl.

-------Instead, she smiles, and draws herself up to her full height (still shorter than him by a good two inches), and returns the sentiment.

-------"'Morning, Nasir." Quite pleased with herself for managing not to stumble over any of the words, Windsor nearly forgets her plans for the soldier today, until a half-second passes and she remembers that she's the leader of a cobbled-together band of survivors and that she must put them before herself.

-------"I need you on escort duty today - Tyler and Tatum are heading into town on a supply run. Make sure they don't get into any trouble, okay?" she grins again, eyes flashing, as Windsor very well knows Tyler will do everything in her power to make the day an 'adventure', e.g. scare Nasir out of his wits by messing around with the zombies.

-------That dealt with, Windsor once again turns to her lieutenant, a bit sad to see Nasir go. The three of them - Tyler, Tatum, and Nasir- should be back well before noon, she knows, but there's lots to be done and Windsor knows it. "We've got a breach in the retaining wall again. Last night I did my rounds, and nothing seems to have gotten through, but we'll need to patch that up before anything nasty gets in. And someone's got to make trips to the well, we're almost out of water." she pauses, thinking for a moment. "I was thinking Blake, Vixen, and Aden could handle the trips to and from the well, and you could take Josh and Lana with you to patch up the fence... unless you've got any better ideas?"

[bubble9001]

( ✯Vɪxᴇɴ✯ )
{main} potential crush(es); joshua, aden
age | rank | s.orientation ; twenty-four | musician | bisexual

~ you couldn't handle me even if i can with instructions ~
( tagged; josh, tyler )

Despite my optimistic nature and way of living I never really was able to sleep. Nightmares. It was those damn nightmares that made it literally impossible for me to get a good night sleep, not even an okay night sleep. I slept when absolutely necessary. Lately the mornings have been frigid and this morning was just like the others. Shivering awake from the short slumber I let out an exasperated yawn. Since sleep didn't come easy to me anyways I typically slept on couches rather than an actual bed. I sat up on the couch as I heard some of the other members of the group awake. Since the apocalypse began everything and every where seemed so quiet. The silence was deadly. It drove people madly insane. At least the silence drove me a little crazy. I think that's why I bring along my acoustic guitar, in order to break the silence. I knew how the others felt about my music, but I knew one day when the last walker is slayed, then they'll thank me. Dark times like this are difficult to get through and I made it my mission to make sure everyone is in good spirits. Depression is a tragic and painful thing that I wouldn't wish on anybody.

Before anybody got up I managed to sneak out the front door of one of the houses our group was staying in. It wasn't the main house where Windsor, our leader was staying at. I seemed to be one of the only members to alternate which house I slept in. The fresh air felt good on my bare skin and felt good in my lungs with each deep breath. I was wearing a jet black tank top hiding my burgundy bralette. A small black leather jacket was the only piece of clothing covering my shoulders and ripped skinny jeans clung to my legs. To tie the whole outfit together I had on some boots meant for mountain climbing. I had a few other articles of clothing in my backpack which I left back at the edge of the couch I was sleeping on. A few granola bars, tampons, a few band-aids, and a few other items are also in my backpack. A bow was slung over my should at all times except when I was sleeping. The arrows were held in a cylinder case slung around my other shoulder. My father's dagger was held in a holster attached to my thigh and my hand gun was held in a holster on a belt.

As I made my way towards Josh's RV I started to have a flash back of the day I found out about the plague that set out across the Earth. What a terrible day that was..

"Come on Archer..We have to go.." I shouted from the kitchen in a shaky voice while I threw the leftover food we had into a duffel-bag. If the news was correct a disease formed from a variation of other disease such as rabies and/or HIV, we needed to leave. My dad was almost home, but he told me over the phone it might be another hour due to traffic. I just hoped he hurried.

"Archer?! Are you packed yet?" I yelled nervously as I left the duffel-bag and headed to his room. Frantically he was trying desperately to zip his suitcase. It was over packed and practically spilling out. "Archer...You can't take everything" I tried to explain, but stopped when I saw the look he gave me.

"I don't want to leave, not without dad.." His voice was laced with fear and it practically killed me to see him like this. Our dad better get home soon.

"Come in the kitchen..you can help me" A loud snapping sound came from the front of the house causing alarm to fill my eyes. Both Archer and I raced out of his room to see one of our neighbors stealing the duffel-bag full of food. "What do you think you're doing?" I practically screamed.

"Stay where you are or I'll shoot" He clearly had a gun pointed at my son and I. Like any other panicking mother I quickly stood in front of my brother. Before I knew what was happening one of our two dogs came bounding out of Archer's room snarling. With a loud ear-splitting shot the dog went limp and Archer was in tears. The neighbor looked petrified before running out of the house with the food.

"Vix...Hhe..he killed Zues.." Archer sobbed on my shoulder just as our other dog came whimpering out. Archer let go of me and hugged the black and white dog as if he would never let go, "I promise I'll never let anything happen to you, Emblem" It was a faint whisper, but loud enough where I could still hear.

I shook away the memory as soon as I got to the front door of the RV. I couldn't let my past get in the way of surviving now. Dwelling on the past won't bring back anyone, it just causes pain. As the memory faded away I knocked on the door and waited for Josh to open it. Maybe he could help me solve my lack of sleeping issue.

[food ☕️]

xxxxxxＴ Ｙ Ｌ Ｅ Ｒ ✧ !!
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(✦ gender. female) (✦ age. fifteen) (✦ role. scavenger) (✦ tags. Josh & Vix)
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It was progressively becoming more apparent that the two were amidst a one-up battle, each contender tossing their roasts about as if preparing for a culinary salad of sorts, so to speak. Whoever came to max out the sass-o-meter would be endowed the honor of Charbroil Master.

Before long, Josh was unveiling yet another string of snarky remarks, because of course, that is the only way to win the game of one-uping. I mean, naturally. How else? You don't go around complimenting the opponent, what, are you crazy? Well, I guess it could work, as long as you layered on the tone of sarcasm. "You look lovely today," can turn into "You look lovely today" when sarcasm is a component. Now that I think about it, considering literature has no tone, that statement probably seems exactly the same to you, the reader (in case you were confused). Well. That's just depressing. Aaaaanyways, Josh's little fun-fact significantly damaged her HP. "You know that just means 'warning' right? The French didn't want their opponents to get hurt while sparring so they gave them a warning instead of actually stabbing 'em." To be frank, she did not know the complete definition of "en garde" (way to bring justice to the French language, Tyler), however she was also aware that screaming "En garde!" to your opponent didn't strike her as a very clever battle tactic, so inferring was always an option. Regardless, no one wants to admit defeat, even if Tyler was intellectually inept to the mildest degree in the first place, she felt it only right to argue her case. "Ahhh, come on now, give me some credit! You didn't actually think I have intention of stabbing you, right? Cute and innocent little Tyler, attempting homicide?"

It was obvious her arm was growing tired from the frigid position she held and the machete began to teeter inside her grasp. "Do my bidding, huh? In that case, I would like some Skittles. I miss Skittles." A smirk sneaked its way across her lips, but then again, did it ever even leave? "Whoa there, big guy. That's quite the list. I better write that one down otherwise my brain might not be able to remember all this information." To emphasize the comment, she swung the weapon around in circles, as if it was writing utensil and the air was her canvas. "In all seriousness though, I need more gauze." At this point, holding the weapon up seemed pointless and would also be a generally bad plan in any real little quarrel. With a tired arm, the strength required to deal effective blows would be lessened ten fold, and thus, the red-embellished blade sunk down and hung by her side with her other hand pressed to her opposite hip. "Can do. I better check on Lana and see how she's holding up as well."

"Oh, and Tyler?" The sudden sincerity in his voice catching her off guard, Ty lifted her eyes expectantly and let a little sigh in the form of a "Huh," exude from her vocals. Before she could register what was happening, the course of the conversation escalated from zero to one hundred real quick. The weapon that was momentarily in her grasp was ripped out and clattered on the RV's floor. She didn't even react, just watched it with a dumbfound expression. Then, her world was spinning around her, mild panic swelling up in her throat at the idea of not having control of her own body. She then felt (or is it heard?) the hollow thump of her body connecting with a solid mass. But wait, there's more. The sequence of events continues on as she realized Josh had been equipped with yet another machete and was trapping her in one spot. Though it was the blunt edge constricting her in her captor's grasp, she didn't want to risk getting cut and pushed the palms of her hands against Josh's forearm, giggling in fits of frustration at her helplessness, like a beetle on its back. Through clenched teeth, she hissed out a joking, "I hate you," which is a straight up lie.

As his embrace lessened, she wobbled a few steps, and then threw a fist up in triumph as if she'd "loosened it up" before hand, as you would a jar of tomato paste. Of course, that's how she got out. Riiiiight. She spun around to face Joshua again and pointed an accusing finger at him. "Is that how you hug all your friends, because I'm gonna need to find some new pals to hang out with."

A knocking on the door startled the spunky little teenager, and before Josh could even make a move, Ty was at the door swinging it wide, plastered on her face an artificial smile━which eventually lapsed into a real one━as she stated, "Hello and welcome! So glad you could make it on this 'use-to-be-fine' morning!"

[awakening souls.]

[✶] ＮＩＲＡＶ [✶]
xxxxxxxx▶ age: 21 years || gender: female || role: lieutenant || weapons: dagger, pistol || tags: Windsor
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The morning tension between the lieutenant and her boss quickly dissipated the moment Windsor's pretty face flashed a grin at Nirav. What did she expect, a verbal greeting? Of course not. From day one she had been welcomed and greeted with tilted smiles, and that was surely something new to get used to. But she did, she grew accustomed to it, and over time, began to appreciate the telepathic "good morning's." "Sure you're feeling alright? It's rather early for you to be up." The "startling" question nearly caused the young woman to jump, her eyes and mind almost immediately breaking out of a daze. Has she caught on to me? She must know. She has to. But instead of replying with the truth, all Nirav could manage was a short-lived shrug and a brief shake of the head. Nightmares were for the weak. She couldn't risk having her leader think any less of her, so she simply responded with, "What point is there in sleeping when there is so much to be done?" She hoped her minor fib wouldn't be caught by Windsor, although the chances were slim, as she was a highly intelligent woman.

She watched with blank eyes as Nasir strutted off to fulfill the leader's duties assigned to him, sensing that Windsor wouldn't have minded if he had stayed a bit longer. Not long thereafter, her leader and friend shot some more information at her. Apparently the wall that kept survivors in and zombies out had been breached, leaving it up to a few members of the group to repair it. The other woman's suggestion was to head out to the damaged wall and fix what needed to be fixed (some way or another). "Aye aye, captain," Nirav responded humorously, instantly locking her eyes with Windsor, as if trying to appear sophisticated once again. "I'll gather some materials from the tool shed before I inform Josh and Lana. I'd rather be prepared." And with that, the dark-haired twenty one year old spun around until the tips of her sneakers hit solid ground. With an insignificant wave, she was off, her frizzy and ruffled ponytail swaying from side to side as she strolled out of the house.

Upon reaching the tool shed, Nirav heaved out an exasperated sigh. At that point in time, she was wondering what tools and materials they'd need to repair the worn-down barrier, and how much of it. With one strenuous tug downwards, she managed to pry open the shed's handle which had somehow been fused together with the wood. The first scent that hit her as she entered was smoke - and lots of it. No one that she knew of smoked cigarettes, so she presumed it to be a fire, but there happened to be no signs of a blaze anywhere. Sitting on one of the lowest shelves was a pile of hammers and a plastic box containing nails of various sorts and lengths. Nirav grumbled, realizing that a bag of some sort would definitely come in handy for carrying the supplies, but her obstinacy got the better of her. "That's what hoods are meant for!" she exclaimed with limited enthusiasm, and quickly stuffed two hammers into her hood, while the handful of nails was jammed into her left pocket. Studying the small building's interior, Nirav determined that in order to rebuild a few cracks in the wall, some wooden planks, saws, and duct tape would be very much necessary. As her hand reached forward in the obscurity of the shack, a pile of paint cans lost their balance on one of the ledges, tumbling down onto the woman. Luckily, only a small, empty paint can had struck her head, while the rest of them fell onto her legs and torso, causing her to fall backwards. She lied buried underneath the mess, only her forehead poking out. It was difficult to breathe, as multiple tins found themselves nestled into her chest. Kicking and flailing did little to free Nirav. In fact, it only made the situation worse, causing additional cans to tumble down onto her.

"Get me out of here!" she cried, her voice faint and heavy. The weight on her body was painful, and she had places to be. What would Windsor think of her, buried under hundreds of pounds of supplies? "What have I gotten myself into?"

[strawberry fields]

𝒏𝒂𝒔𝒊𝒓 𝒂𝒔𝒔𝒂𝒇
━━━━ the soldier ━━━━
( form. ) x ( location. ) the safehouse ( tagged. ) windsor, nirav

as windsor straightened out her posture, nasir blinked slowly at her, realising the height difference between them only now. he had never thought about it before, but it made her look a lot less intimidating - cute, even. "I need you on escort duty today - Tyler and Tatum are heading into town on a supply run. Make sure they don't get into any trouble, okay?" she asks him. he nods obediently, not bothering to give her a vocal response - but he can't help but let the grimace that falls onto his delicate features. he did love going on supply runs, he really did, but tyler worried him so much. she was a very capable survivor, that was for sure, and her playfulness and overall child-like nature made nasir hopeful for the future of the human race. he liked that she could destroy a ghawl's brain and still act like she was a teenager. he was just always worried that she would fall into the hands of one of the creatures, or worse, into the hands of bandits or survivors whose intentions were to hurt her. like the rest of the group, nasir felt an obligation to protect and care for her, even though he knew he didn't have to feel like that. unlike the rest of the group, however, nasir never bothered to try and suffocate her with parental guidance; he often trusted her to make her own decisions when they had to leave the group together, and only usually stepped in if things went south for them, which wasn't very often. tatum, on the other hand, nasir didn't know all that well. of course, he had been on supply runs with her too but as nasir wasn't much of a talker he often let the awkward silence fill in a lot of the gaps between their small talk. as far as he was aware, she was good at her job, but he thought her flirtatious nature and the fact that she was so easily attached to people were her biggest downfalls, so he often stayed clear of meaningful contact with her.

nasir figured that he should go and round up both the two and get them out of the house, but getting closer to the location of the RV,
nasir stopped in his tracks and watched as tyler had swung open the door to greet vixen. nose scrunching up, nasir decided he should probably wait until she had left - it was no secret to the rest of the group that the two were on less than amicable terms and je figured that windsor would be less than happy if two of her members injured themselves from a fist fight that was fueled by nothing other than pure hatred for each other. he quickly turned on his heel and left the scene before he had time to really get himself worked up over the ordeal. now rather heated, nasir thought that some fresh air may be necessary in order to fully cool down again. he slipped out of the house with relative ease, breathing in the air around him with a sigh of relief. it didn't smell nice, of course, with rotting corpses walking around, but nasir thought it smelt a hell of a lot better than pollution and petrol fumes, like everywhere used to. he kept his movement slow and quiet, the distant murmurs of ghawls and their foot steps as they walked past the house setting his brain into full alert mode.

oddly enough, the door to the tool shed was wide open, and a can of paint had rolled out onto the concrete surrounding the shed. curiously, nasir edged closer to the paint can, picking it up to discover a crusty shade of cream was spilling its contents slowly onto the floor. rolling his eyes, nasir figured that must have been what had drawn a couple of ghawls to the area. he picked up the can and walked back into the tool shed, only to find there was much more than just one can that had crashed from their respective shelves, and that somebody was underneath it all. nasir leaned forward, for a second wondering if this was a straggler who had come to steal the group's supplies. his hand reached for his knife and his face fell devoid of all emotion - that is until he heard nirav's voice faintly calling for help underneath the pile. easing his body and releasing his grip on his knife, nasir hurriedly began picking up the paint cans, starting from the top of her. he picked one up, revealing a bigger proportion of her face. he blinked down at her, his long eyelashes brushing against his once model like cheek bones - which were just more gaunt than anything now, and raised one eyebrow at her. "are you alright?" he asked.

[.red]

▬▬▬ ＪＯＳＨＵＡ ▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬

[ the doctor ] [ 25 years ] [ health ▰▰▰▰▱ ] [ pri sec ] [ distracted, charmed ] [ tags - Tyler, Vix ]

"You don't like hugs laced with a little adrenaline? Now what fun is that!"
Joshua chuckled at Tyler's playful bickering. Cute and innocent little Tyler? He'd agree to her being the adorable child of their little clan. However innocent? He could laugh for days. We're talking about a girl who tempts fate while slicing into the stomachs of zombies. In this world, there was little chance an innocent being still existed. This world was full of gloom and doom. Those who weren't able to stand up and be strong wouldn't last terribly long, unfortunately. The thought made him sigh and wish he had a pack of smokes. At the moment, he really didn't want to think about anything. Yet between play fighting with Tyler and making runs into the city, the doctor was forced into thinking about the things that he wished to avoid at all costs. Heaving a sigh, he was glad whenever there was a knock at his RV door. He blinked over, as if it was going to magically open, not wanting to move. Thankfully the young girl skipped her way over and propped it open to show Vixen standing on the steps. He walked over and stood next to Tyler, offering the blue haired gal one of his typical grins. "Hey, sweetheart, what brings you across the garden this morning?" he asked. It wouldn't be the first time he called of the group's girls sweetheart. That was his go to nickname besides 'hun.' Joshua had a knack for nicks.
His eyes gazed upon Vix as he waited for her response, taking in her various features. Eyes were a favorite of the man's. He truly believed that they were the windows to the soul. There were times where he would catch himself staring at somebody a little too intensely while in conversation, and he'd have to glance away. This, however, was not one of those times. Considering his distracted little mind, Joshua wasn't in the mood for star gazing, so to speak.

[food ☕️]

xxxxxxＤ Ｅ Ｃ Ｌ Ａ Ｎ ✧ !!
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(✦ gender. male) (✦ age. nineteen) (✦ role. rebel) (✦ tags. whoever wants to spot him)
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Two pairs of feet pounded against the ground, disoriented and panicked. Their strides were very choppy, some short while others were long in attempts to dance around the debris that seemed to pop up out of nowhere. Occasionally they would stumble, as the owners of sed legs would cast their heads backwards frightfully, their attention no longer focused on where their feet would connecting with the earth next. The pants of one of the runners were heavy and strangled, while the other had their teeth clenched and thus their breath billowing through flared nostrils.

It was as if the scene was taken straight from a horror movie. The murderous pursuer hunting down their prey. Oh please, let there be a camera hidden inside one of those tree branches. Their backpacks jostled against their backs, giving away their position. One of the boys banked suddenly to the left, gripping his partner’s wrist and yanking him into the change of course. The leader cast a few more rushed glances over his shoulder, then slowed his sprint into an uneasy trot. He strained his ears to detect the sound of crushing branches, yet all that came to his ears were the gasps for air of his fellow escapee.

Feeling the coast was clear, he bent down and pressed his hands against his knees, hungrily sucking in air. Any PE teacher would frown at his posture, telling him to stand up as air can get into the lungs better, but does this oxygen-deprived child look like he gives a damn?

Too focused on his own recovery, he didn’t realize that the smaller boy was no longer at his side. He didn’t take any heed to the tussle of leaves sounding behind him until a sharp cry of pain sprung into the crisp air of afternoon. Both curious and alarmed, yet not fully recovered, the boy spun around to face the culprit. It was his ex-boss, Marco, holding his boyfriend Ryan against his chest. A knife was held against the boy’s throat, and his adam's apple bobbed against the blade as he gulped in terror.

Energies too powerful to describe hit Declan with the force of a wrecking ball, knocking what little O2 that had been regained right back out. Anger surged through his bone marrow, taking control of his mind and manipulating his muscles. It was as if a demon had possessed the once sweet Declan and was turning him into this deranged madman. Instinctively, his hand fell to the pistol twisted in his belt loop. He lifted the gun, fire visibly blazing in his eyes. Ironically, the man holding Ryan in his grasp looked just as, if not more, terrified than Ryan and Declan combined. His eyes flickered to the two bags laying on the ground, opening his mouth to speak was cut off from being able to evince his motives as Declan’s voice rang loud enough to attract a horde of walkers.

“LET. HIM. GO!”

Before he could even register his thoughts, his finger twitched over the trigger and his arm jolted back, his eyes batting briefly and his ears ringing. It was as if the world was moving in slow motion. The bullet cut through the air and then lodged itself into Marco’s forehead. Down the large man fell, however taking Ryan with him. His weight put pressure on the knife, slitting his captor’s neck. What he had done suddenly become clear to Declan. His eyes shot open. Disbelief was the only thing that kept him from from breaking down right then and there. He ran forward, his hands shakily pulling Ryan away from the man he had just murdered. He pulled Ryan over and onto his lap, looking around for anything, a bandage--though it would render useless, perhaps a camera crew, but there was nothing. He kept on trying to reassure himself more than Ryan that he was going to be okay. It was as he sat there looking into his boyfriend’s glazed brown eyes that the full force hit him. Tears began to drip from his eyelids, he thought there was a chance his love was still breathing, but in all reality it was just the bouncing of his knee that gave the illusion of a moving chest. He kept mumbling incoherent words to the boy, but it was useless. He didn’t want to accept it, couldn’t. Accepting that would literally mean the end of the world. His world. His lip quivered and he rocked Ryan gently, cradling him in his arms, brushing his sweat-drenched black hair from his glazed eyes. “Come on baby,” his lips twitching in sad little smiles, “You’ll be okay, I promise. H-hold on there.” It eventually became too much, staring into the face of death. Tilting his head back to the sky he…

He screamed, terror making his heart lurch and sending him upright into a sitting position like one of those inflatable bounce back punching bags that always catch you by surprise. The hairs on his back slowly began to flatten as the bite of his night horrors began to subside. His face was dampened with a mix of sweat and tears, and though he’d regained consciousness of reality, his body continued to trembled from the vividness of the past memory. It didn’t even surprise him at this point, the nightmares had become frequent and his wake-up routine habitual. It probably isn’t healthy, but oh well.

Now wide awake, Declan dragged a hand across his face as he realized the commotion he’d most likely made, and sure enough, as he looked down from his roost, there was a walker swatting hopelessly at the air. He grunted and rolled over in the suspended hammock. He crawled over to one of the corners, falling various times in the rocking bed before finally reaching the pull straps connecting the hammock to one of the two trees. He’d hung the sheet of fabric approximately thirty feet off the ground, that way no passing zombies could get to him nor would wandering survivor notice him as there’s not a very high likelihood they’d have a need to look up, that is, unless Declan was snoring or something, however for the most part he’s a pretty quiet sleeper. You know, people should make it more of a habit to look up when their wandering the woods. You never know when you might find an inhabited hammock floating inconspicuously between two tall deciduous trees.

He unhinged the lock and watched as the cloth slammed into the parallel tree. He then shimmied down the tree until he was just out of reach of the walker. Taking the bait, he ambled over obviously. Pulling the knife out of his boot, flipping it for show to absolutely no one, then spring from the tree like a lemur and drove the blade into the undead’s head--or what was left of it anyway.

Yanking the dagger from the zombies cranium, he meandered over to the other tree, climbed up that one and repeated the exercise. The hammock as well as its cables went plummeting to the ground. Finding a low-lying branch, he leapt down and began to fight with the hammock, eventually folding it up and winding the pull straps up. Uncovering his stash of supplies from a nearby bush, as he didn’t want any of those wanders to come across it, then actually have a reason to taking interest in the sky above. He shoved his mobile bed into one very large backpack and swung it over his shoulders. Over time you begin to adapt to the outrageous weight on your back. His nightmares might have attracted some listening walkers, or a pursuer, and he knew he needed to keep going. He suddenly became conscious of the swollen black eye on this face. That had been earned from attempting to steal a lone man (or so he thought)’s supplies only to come face-to-face with a fuming woman’s unusually hefty log. Okay, it was a stick, but it sure as heck felt like a log when it’s colliding with your face! He ended up fleeing empty handed, however he wouldn’t be surprised if they were still trying to flag him down.

He continued to wander through woods until he heard a distressed scream cut through the air. His curiosity piqued, he turned his aimless walk into a determined trot. A break in the trees displayed a fairly well-kept house and an ominous RV. He didn’t see any people at the moment, but there was no doubt that this was where the scream had come from. After relying on hearing, one becomes fairly aware of how far away a sound emanated from. Before long he heard the clatter of cans, making him jump behind a tree in fear someone was firing at him with one banged up gun, however the sound seemed to have been a one time thing, probably a walker caught somewhere, and he peered out once more. The opening of the front door of the house, however, excited him even more. A female with blue hair came wandering out and approached the RV. Licking his lips Declan smirked. He would definitely be taking as he pleased from here.

It seemed at though not everyone of the house was up and about. Now was as good a time as any to make his move. Day wouldn’t work as they’d be all over the place and during the night they probably had someone standing post, more attentive than ever. Setting down his bag to keep from attracting noise, he decided now was his chance. If he was noticed, he could always escape. He’s quite the quick runner and knows that running in a zig-zag would better his chances of avoiding getting shot. And besides, the only people that would most likely notice him would be Blue and whoever she was talking to. Taking one more cautious glance around, he made a bolt towards the gap underneath the porch.

[parlaymars]

ＷＩＮＤＳＯＲ
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⊱xxＴＨＥ ＢＯＳＳxx⊰
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location: 1540 ryan rd, ralston, WY
primary weapon: camillus sin tomahawk
secondary weapon: silenced pistol
health: 95%
tagged: declan, tyler, vixen, josh

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-------If Windsor hadn't already been facing the window, she would have missed the pale blur as something -or someone- darts for the porch. It takes her body no more than half a second to respond to the threat, hand going for the handle of the tomahawk belted at her waist. Another second to push through the battered front door, an alarm cry spilling from her throat- "Watch out!" -she calls, for the moment ignoring the added threat a loud noise will bring to her family. The call will bring her band running, she is sure of it, and any walkers that appear will be easily dealt with. This intruder, however, is another story. From Windsor's experience, humans have often been the biggest adversaries to their meager band.

-------She slows her pace, eyes firmly on the intruder's form. A male, young, probably in his early twenties (although it's hard to tell these days, what with everyone being perpetually covered in dirt, blood, and other substances). It surprises her, his boldness; openly entering their camp. A suicide mission, she'd have called it. This thought makes Windsor snort derisively, and she wonders if the man will continue on his path towards their house, or turn tail and run once he knows he's been spotted.

-------It's best if he goes underneath the porch, really, because then she and her companions will be able to corner him. It's not every day that a new survivor shows up, and even less common that said survivor tries to steal supplies. Not one to share with outsiders, Windsor flushes from combined embarrassment and anger - embarrassed because she is to blame for this intrusion to their space, and anger at the audacity of this man. What was his plan, sneak into their house and steal from all eleven of them?

[Metronome]

Sasha Belov/ Male/ 31/ Unknown Survivor
Location: Driving towards the main group compound

The morning arrived like every other before it: not soon enough and with a ball of fluff on his chest. Sasha's eyes cracked open, the early rays of the sun shining through the bars that were welded to his driver side window. He glanced down at the cat that had decided that he made a good bed and groaned. A soft meow greeted him as emerald green eyes turned to meet his.

"No, get off!" He grumbled, shoving the cat away. The feline yowled in protest as it was dumped onto the floor. Sasha had never asked for a roommate, but yet this creature had just made itself at home. Sasha sat up and leaned to look out of the driver window, watching for movement. He had parked his van in the middle of the road in the desert. It wasn't like anyone else was going to be driving this way any time soon. Any walkers that had followed him had long since been left behind; he was always sure of that.

The old, rusty white van stuck out like a sore thumb. The faded letters "Rucker's Dry Cleaning Service" were pealing off the sides. It only had two windows: driver and passenger. Both had since had BBQ grill grates welded to the insides, just in case the glass ever broke. The windshield had a hairline crack across it. It, too, had been subjected to the grill bars. Sasha felt safe enough in his van the sleep in it, but he was always on the move. A large container of melted down animal fat and vegetable oil was safely sealed in the back; his fuel source. A few other crates held odds and ends. One of his rifles was hidden under the driver side seat, and he still had some ammo stashed away. Sasha had turned to using a hunting bow that he had nicked off a body a while back; it was quieter and more reusable than his guns. It took getting used to, but he managed.

One crate held any and all books that he had founds in his supply hunts. Reading kept him from losing his mind sometimes. Survival was boring, more often than not.

The man sat in the spacious back of the van and rolled up his makeshift bedroll. With it pushed off to the side, he began to rummage around for breakfast. Being a nomad made any kind of farming hard. As such, he often didn't get the vegetables he needed. This became a serious problem about a few months, when Sasha began feeling sick. He figured his diet was the problem, so he went in search of vegetation. A plant field guide that he managed to find came in handy, but eating weeds was obviously not the best option. After finding a few packs of seeds during a exploration trip into a town, Sasha managed to get his own little garden going in the passenger seat of his van. Several pots held tomato, orange, and spinach plants. The tomatoes were just starting to turn red, and if he found that dang cat messing with them again, kitty would become lunch.

Sasha picked a couple leaves off of the spinach plant that looked the least pitiful and used them to wrap around the left over deer meat. Nothing was seasoned, and the meat was dry as hell. But hunger didn't care.

Once he was done with his rations, Sasha opened the back doors of the van and went around front to get into the driver's seat. As big as he was, he tried to limit the number of times he had to bumble his way up front from the back of the vehicle. The engine started up, sounding like an old dog with a smoker's cough. He started off down the same road he'd been driving for the last two days. He hadn't come across another town yet, and his supplies were getting low. He needed to restock soon...

The van kicked up a billowing cloud of dust as it drove down the abandoned highway. Off in the distance, some sort of structure slowly became visible. Sasha squinted to try and get a better look, but the only way to know what it was was to change his course. Hopefully, there would be something useful there.

Sasha bounced back and forth in his seat as the old van slowly pulled off the road and began to bump along the off road terrain. He took it slow, not wanting to put the final nail in this piece of crap's coffin today.