Zombie Apocalypse! [Semi-Lit/Always Open&Accepting!]

[princess pudding]

Piper shoved the journal into her pack and explored the narrow hallway, keeping quiet in case Phoenix wasn't fond of noise...or her. She peeked through one of the bedrooms, but quickly slid past the doorway when she spotted him inside.  

[el3ctr1c]

Phoenix sat on the foot of his bed, head in his hands, as he contemplated his own mind. He didn't know what he wanted. It was like there were two people inside him, constantly at war. Neither side was more dominant than the other, they just appeared at different times. He the creak of the floor and shot up instantly, but realized that it was only Piper and sat back down, rubbing at his face in agitation.

"Make yourself at home," he insisted wryly.

[princess pudding]

Piper merely peeked at him, her face shadowed behind the doorway. For a moment, she countered what to say or how to speak to him. He wasn't the brightest crayon in the box, and he obviously had his own problems going on that didn't include helping out a curious girl. It wouldn't be the first time she woke up to an empty house, her 'companion' long gone. But he didn’t seem like that kind of person, and she doubted he'd leave behind his apartment to ditch her. If he had any plans of that, he would have left her when he had the chance.

[el3ctr1c]

Phoenix was about to immerse himself in the usual internal rambling that accompanied his warring state, but he notice she was still there staring at him. Probably analyzing and deciding what the quickest way to kill him was. He decided to take advantage of it.

"Like what you see," he asked, grinning wolfishly. He knew quite well that she was, in fact, not checking him out, but wasn't about to let the opportunity pass.

[princess pudding]

Piper remained starring at him, her expression remaining still and silent. Being an oblivious girl, she was an easy target to take advantage of, even at her age; she'd always had that personality to her, know madder what people warned her of. Why's he suddenly being nice? She wondered, cocking her head after a moment of taking it into consideration. "Sorry?" She asked, giving him a puzzled look.

[el3ctr1c]

Phoenix was both amused and irritated by her apparent confusion, but brushed it off regardless. He hadn't planned on lingering in that mood. Neither had his mind, for it was gone as quickly as it came. His face was blank and his posture calm, but stoic.

"It isn't important," he stated and stood, crossing the room to meet her t the doorway. "Where's my knife?"

[princess pudding]

Pip slipped the knife from under her sleeve, taking a small step back from him when he stood up. It wasn't like she was afraid of him; more or less unstable and untrusting of someone who was asking about a weapon. She was still trying to get used to being around others after watching her previous group become meals to the undead, in which had left her mortified.

[el3ctr1c]

Phoenix took it from her unsteady hands with a gentleness he didn't know he possessed. She probably had reservations about giving away her only weapon in a place she wasn't familiar with, but it was his knife and he had plans for it, like making it effective. He brushed past her and headed for the window.

"Are you hungry," he asked, sensing she was probably malnourished and exhausted and seriously messed up in the head. Most people were, he among them.

[princess pudding]

Pip lifted her head and looked over her shoulder as he brushed past, but the answer he probably expected never left her lips. "No, thank you," she said simply, despite the extreme hunger knawing at her stomach. Food could wait. She'd already taken his home and peace and quiet in the past hour, let alone consume his food. Instead of following him, she sat down at the silent doorway and inspected her gashed knees; the bleeding had ceased long ago, but had now caked over the raw skin, leaving her quite a mess to clean up.

[iSaNeKo]

[May I just point out that you two are doing tremendously without any help? :p Also, {Haru}, so glad you decided to stay (for now)!]

As he crossed the room to exit the dilapidated gun shop, Jordan shrugged his shoulder toward his cheek, wiping the blood from his face. He followed by wiping it now with the palm of his hand. Knowing the place wouldn’t lie dormant for long, considering the undead and the living were still lurking about, he quickly unsnapped his sling bag, kneeling to put a few extra boxes of ammunition inside. He maneuvered the cartons around a few cans of wet cat food and bottles of water; everything fit snuggly. Jordan slung the pack over his shoulder, grabbed his other strap from beneath his right arm, and clipped the plastic buckle back together. I really need to stop using the buckle he thought to himself, after the loud *snap* startled him. Oh well, he continued, It’s not like anybody walking by wouldn’t have heard what just went down in the back room.

His eyes shifted at the thought; looking outside from the dimly lighted store, which was getting progressively darker. Jordan stood, grabbing up his shotgun, which lay next to the counter, and crept toward his way out. He looked into the sky after scanning the streets for the undead, realizing it had taken him longer to retrieve ammo than he had initially imagined it would. Good thing no one ever checks the store rooms when they raid places he remembered or else this trip would have been a lost cause. There were few guns left at the front counter, but nothing Jordan wanted to carry around.

Finally, Jordan made it back to his newfound home. There were no problems getting there, this time; he stayed low and he stayed silent. When he reached the building, the Asian boy hopped up onto the dumpster below his window, jumped again to draw down the ladder to the rest of the stairs, and climbed up it. Zombies couldn’t climb, but to be safe, he always pulled up the ladder before he continued his journey. Six stories was nothing when it came down to climbing stairs or sprinting for your life from a horde of the undead; it was, actually, quite a relief. When he got to his window, he lifted it and slipped inside, inspecting the place for intruders, to be safe.

Upon spotting nothing but his unscathed place and his new cat, who walked right up to him, wrapping his feet in a furry mass, Jordan bent down to pet the animal. He unclipped his pack, as he walked into the kitchen. Slinging it around to the front of him, with one swift motion, Jordan turned and sat in one of the comfy chairs at the kitchen table to take a load off. The ever-so-skinny cat walked up to him and meowed. “I know, Monty,” he stared into the cat’s huge brown eyes, then reached down to pet him, again. His fingers danced across the dingy red collar, which was very loose on him by this time. Jordan leaned back in his chair and began to open the zipper on his shoulder bag, “I’ve got something for you.” He smiled at the cat and pulled out one of the cans. Jordan sat the pack on the ground, as Monty walked up to him anxiously, purring and meowing all in one; it made the man smile, and a small chuckle escaped from his throat as the cat reached for his pants in anticipation. He popped the top open and pulled back the seal, setting the food on the table he was resting his elbow on. The cat jumped from the tile floor to the top of the table in one swift leap, and began chowing down. Jordan watched the cat for a moment before pulling out his own food, which was also in a can, grabbing the fork lying on the table next to him, and joining the cat for supper.


“Now that’s an artillery,” McKayla half-heartedly joked as she propped herself up, crossed arms, against the threshold of the doorway leading into the kitchen. As Damon stood there examining the plethora of kitchen knives strone out before him, McKayla had stumbled upon the very room he resided in. She would have asked if he was preparing supper, but she noticed the two largest knifes sticking out of his belt and realized it was zombies he was preparing for; or us McKayla harshly thought.

Trying to rid her mind of the possibility that Damon may plan on ridding the farm of more stragglers, she thought back to Zoey and her horse. She wouldn’t let him kill us; she’s too sweet she thought for a moment longer, contradicting herself. He didn't look like much of a joker. Her brow furrowed. But maybe that’s just a rule for her horses. Maybe Damon makes the rules from then on. McKayla straightened up, letting her hands slip inside of her jacket pockets. “I was just looking for the bathroom,” her tone was less playful now as she took a couple of steps into the kitchen.


Sam entered the room with Blathnaid and the small girl. “You guys are fast,” she mentioned as she caught up to their still bodies, eyes staring intently on the flame, hoping it wouldn’t go out. “The guy out there gave us the candle and his lighter. I guess he figured this was a woman’s job—” she stopped before finishing her entire speech. There were four figures that stood behind the candlelight, as she had anticipated two. Her heart began to race, and she hoped to God two of the shadows were a living Blathnaid and Erin, and the other two weren’t there to harm them. Her eyes hadn’t quite adjusted to the darkness, so she used what light she had to look around. They had blood on their clothing, but they stood still, as did she. Maybe they hadn’t noticed her; of course they noticed! Sam criticized herself. “Blathnaid?” Sam almost whispered, awaiting an attack, and panicking to come up with a way out of the place had they done exactly that.