c̫̰̃h̫̰̃σ̫̰̃ḭ́̃c̫̰̃є̰̃ѕ̫̰̃--ᎳᎬ ᎳOᏁ'Ꮖ ᎠᎥᎬ|☣|ˢᵉᵐᶤ ˡᶤᵗᵉʳᵃᵗᵉopen

[☠>military brat.]

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[All alone] [forgot what it's like to care] [still alive] [who cares if I die?] [already dead inside]

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Dallas Luka Scott
The lonely cowboy

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[with: Grace|health: 97%|mental state: fine all things considered|action: walking Grace home|mood: uneasy]

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I don't need the noise or trouble other people bring--nobody cares about what I've done; why should I care what you think?!

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Dallas nodded his head slowly, smiling a little bit after he opened his eyes and stood up straight once more. "Thank you" He said, acknowledging what she said rather smugly. He couldn't help but notice her clenching on tightly to her knife as they walked, he figured it was good that he tagged along with her. Wasn't sure what was making her so nervous, but he figured she was just on edge like he was. He had no idea that she was afraid of ghosts, he probably would be jumpy of them as well if he had thought that he'd seen one as a child. "Ha! Funny!" Dallas replied with a chuckle, peering around the corner briefly while they walked. When Grace started off singing his name Dallas looked over at him curiously, as if he wondered where she was going with it. When she was about halfway through he grinned for a moment before snickering smugly. "Good one!" He laughed and shook his head, the first part of the question confused him...but when she followed up with the punch line he thought it was hilarious.

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[Deletedaccount :)]

Am i accepted?)

[exixst]

(I'm just gonna launch a little timeskip here because I'm out of ideas. Sorry x3)

Grace Walker - Against the World

"Well that's, like, the only joke I know, so I'm glad it was acceptable," Grace chuckled under her breath, shrugging in a 'what can I say?' kind of manner. She made sure that she kept her voice down to avoid being heard by dead ears. Fighting zombies was difficult. Fighting anyone who actually wanted to kill you was difficult, actually. But fighting a zombie in the dark? It was almost all odds stacked against you, and that was utterly terrifying. It was just like being backed against a wall, with options so limited that it truly did make her panic. Not just antsy, but actually panicked. So, yes, she was tense about that, too. And ghosts. Ghosts were always a lingering possibility that she might never shake off.
She stayed quiet for most of the walk, speaking only on occasion when she was tired of silence. But, for the most part, she kept her ears alert, sensitive towards any noises, even if it was just their feet crunching something unusual beneath them. On occasion her shoulders would even jump, if takes by surprise that much. Other than that, though, there didn't seem to be that many problems around. Must've been something more appetizing around than two kids who knew how to fight.
A little while later, she recognized the area where her family had taken shelter. It wasn't actually the home they'd lived in before, because they'd ran when that entire area was infested, but relocated to this place, and it seemed to be working. There were only three beds available, so a couple people slept on the floor, but they made it work. And one person was always awake at any time, keeping watch. It might've been her night to keep watch, actually. She couldn't remember.
She was about to mention something about it, when a flash came through the cracks in between the boards that blocked up the windows. The light was followed by a loud crack, but was muffled from being indoors. Still, she recognized the sound immediately. She'd lived long enough to know what gunfire sounded like, especially since she used to watch action movies and such as a kid. She'd never shot a gun, actually. Well, actually, she'd shot a BB gun before, but had ended up shooting it through the neighbor's window and having to pay it in her allowance. Never again.
Grace stilled, and confused, worried, and fearful expression morphing onto her face. She stayed in place for a moment, feeling her mouth dry and her spine stiffen. She felt cold, suddenly, and she kind of forgot to breathe for a minute. The door was shut, meaning nobody broke in, unless they were a responsible burglar who decided to be polite. And zombies didn't shut doors behind them, anyway, so that was out of the question. So, then, who in the world fired the gun?
"What the hell?" Grace murmured, voice shaking slightly from nerves. Taking in a short breath, she first broke out into a jog, and then increased pace into an urgent run. In less than half a minute, she shoved the door open with her shoulder - regrettably followed by a little pain and a new bruise - only to be greeted by the barrel of a gun aimed towards her maybe three paces away, at most. She froze, going completely rigid, but a breath later she reacted. Grace was quick to move forwards, slashing the knife across the hand of her father, who held the gun. He hissed, but dropped the weapon, nonetheless, which was her only intentional. While he was still reacting, she moved, giving him a quick, light kick to the gut to send him backwards, only out of habit. She was so used to doing the same motions that she stopped thinking. But as soon as the man stumbled and his shoulders hit the ground, she settled back into a standing pose, recognizing the signal to call it done. She never attacked someone who was down. Never. Only if she needed to, and right now, she didn't.
When she took her next breath, her nose caught onto the scent of blood, which she glanced around for the source. In the corner laid a crumbled body wearing a family black shirt with white paint splatters all over it. She could only see half of his face, but she could definitely see the hole in his forehead, which immediately struck her with a sense of nausea. She had to take a step back to keep herself from staggering around just from the initial shock.
"You shot him?" She whispered, turning to glance at her father, who was picking himself up off the ground.
"He was bitten."
"Where?" When told that it was on his arm, she reluctantly went over to take a look, only to find what looked to be just a simple bleeding scratch. Not a bite mark; probably just some cat scratch or something. She bit down hard on the inside of her cheek, feeling her throat grow tight, and her breaths were thin. She swallowed hard and closed her eyes, shaking her head. "You idiot..."

(I'm sorry. I totally just got carried away >.< Let me know if I should fix it to something smaller.)

[☠>military brat.]

Am i accepted?)

Oops! Sorry, thought you were still working on it. (yes, you're accepted)

[Deletedaccount :)]

(Sorry. I went back and finished it. She doesn't have much of history because I like to Roleplay it out.l

[☠>military brat.]

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[All alone] [forgot what it's like to care] [still alive] [who cares if I die?] [already dead inside]

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Dallas Luka Scott
The lonely cowboy

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[with: Grace|health: 97%|mental state: fine all things considered|action: walking Grace home|mood: uneasy]

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I don't need the noise or trouble other people bring--nobody cares about what I've done; why should I care what you think?!

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Dallas nodded his head again and chuckled, he wasn't sure if it was because of the sarcasm he sensed in her voice or the chuckle that followed...regardless of this he was becoming more and more aware of how light-hearted their conversations have been. It was nice, but it was harder for him to have his mind completely off the surrounding dangers for more than a split second. He knew that he needed to be carful and cautious no matter how boring it was.

After a while of casually walking Dallas became more and more focused on the sky....and of course potential threats. He began to wonder if the zombies had suddenly lost interest in people because of how few they've seen since they took out the horde. The thought was almost funny to him, mainly because the thought of life without the living dead was strange at best. It sounded next to impossible. It didn't take much longer of him day dreaming about how weird it would be with no zombies around before they slowed up and looked at what he assumed was her house. What was that?! Dallas heard the gunshot and felt his heart skip a beat, he didn't even have time to try and calm Grace down before she started running towards the house, catching him off guard. "Crap!" He whispered quickly under his breath as he bolted after her. He was about to grab her and try to calm her down before she tried getting in but it was too late, the gun was already pointed directly at her. Dallas' first reaction would have been to swipe the gun from him....but it wasn't pointed at him. He couldn't help but take a deep sigh of relief when the gun was flung from the man's hand and a safe distance away. But it didn't take long for him to realize what happened here...these people weren't strangers to her, and one of them was dead. As he stood in the doorway he carefully eyed the man, he claimed that the person he shot had been bitten....he didn't see a bite. Dallas glanced over at the man yet again after realizing that he had pretty much lost his mind, not tried to defend himself. He couldn't help but glare at him with his teeth clenched, other than that he didn't know what to do.

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No worries! I like this!

[☠>military brat.]

(Sorry. I went back and finished it. She doesn't have much of history because I like to Roleplay it out.l

No problem, you can post whenever.

[exixst]

(Oh, good! ^^)

Grace Walker - Against the World

Swallowing hard, Grace felt around for a pulse on her brothers neck, listening for any breathing. Not that it made a difference. A bullet in the head wasn't something anyone could just shake off. The chances of surviving even when there were doctors hustling at your sides were slim to none, and they didn't have a single doctor nearby. Either way, she didn't feel a heartbeat or hear any breathing, which meant that her brother was already dead. Figuring this out made her simply go still, focusing on her own breathing for a moment so that she didn't pass out, despite feeling dizzy already. She didn't know what to do at this moment. Should she be angry? Well, she was, but wasn't doing anything with that anger. She was more shocked than anything. Shocked and terrified. If her brother got killed just from a basic bleeding scratch, then what happened if she came home one day with an open wound from a knife, or something? She didn't want to die. Nobody really did. If they really wanted to die, they'd be dead already. It wasn't easy to stay alive if you didn't want to nowadays.
Licking her lips slowly, she stood, staggering back just a tad when her head decided to swim for a second. She almost crouched back down. Shock, fear, and nausea all together was overwhelming, and she wasn't sure how to deal with it. Taking a slow breath, her fingers tightened around the knife, and her eyes lifted to glare at her father. She shook her head, glancing off to the side for a moment and exhaling quickly. Then, abruptly, she snapped back and flung the knife in his direction, but ended up hitting the wall maybe a foot away from his neck. The blade was sunk into the wall, only the hilt visible. She'd meant to miss, and was really only trying to show that she was pissed without saying many words, but part of her wished she would've nicked him or something. He deserved it, in her mind.
Clenching her jaws, she breathed through her nose, biting down on her bottom lip in frustration. "It was a scratch..." she murmured, keeping her eyes pinned on the older man. "Not a bite. Learn the difference before you put a bullet in someone's head," her gaze dropped down to the floor, avoiding any kind of eye contact with anyone. Right now she didn't know what to do. One half of her wanted to beat the living snot out of someone, and the other half wanted to curl up in a ball and not move for three days straight. A compromise between the two would be difficult. Letting her eyes slide shut, she focused on holding it together. There was no way that she was gonna just throw a temper tantrum or something. No matter how nice it would feel to get her anger out like a little kid, she couldn't. Not when her brother was dead on the floor and the scent of blood would probably attract unwanted visitors. Or sharks. But it's not like they could get here. She'd much rather prefer to deal with a shark instead of a couple zombies, though. At least against a shark she'd have the advantage of legs and land. Zombies were an almost even match.
Grace exhaled sharply, clearing her throat and glancing over to Dallas. "Sorry," she apologized sheepishly, grimacing and glancing away for a brief moment, "this kind of stuff doesn't normally happen, trust me."

[☠>military brat.]

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[All alone] [forgot what it's like to care] [still alive] [who cares if I die?] [already dead inside]

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Dallas Luka Scott
The lonely cowboy

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[with: Grace|health: 97%|mental state: fine...|action: standing there..?|mood: dumbfounded]

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I don't need the noise or trouble other people bring--nobody cares about what I've done; why should I care what you think?!

[/quote]

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Dallas watched as Grace felt for a pulse or any signs of life with a dumbfounded expression, he was so confused...and worried. He didn't know what to do! He had a lump in his throat like when you dry swallow a large pill, all he could do was sit there and wait for her reaction. Sure, he could try to comfort her....but what do you say to someone in a situation like this one?! "Sorry" or "it's a shame" doesn't even begin to cut it, it's not like he knew exactly how she felt...though he had a pretty good idea. He recalled watching his father abuse and yell at his mother and sister from a secluded place in his house most days, but he never had the guts to stand up for them. The thought of that made him feel even more guilty, he hadn't seen his sister or mother in years...if they were still alive he could be sure that they hated his guts. His rather distant thought were quickly interrupted when he heard the wind from a knife wiz by and the thud it made when it hit the wall dangerously close to the man he assumed was her father. He was about to go and try to calm her down when she opened her mouth to speak, the words she spoke only made his mouth go dry and cause him to freeze where he stood. That settles it....he has lost his mind. It couldn't be...my fault...could it?? She might have shown up just as late had I not run into her or invited her over. Deep down...Dallas knew that he was only kidding himself. Now he couldn't help but to feel responsible. "What do you want to do about it...him?" He tried to ignore her apology, shrugging it off as though it was ridiculous. He thought he should be the one with the apology. Dallas wasn't sure how she wanted to react, but he was darn sure he knew how he would if he'd been put in a similar situation.

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[Deletedaccount :)]

Gwenivere Write
Gwen was sneaking along to sides of buildings. She grasped the cold hilt of her combat knife, glancing around. Her green eyes were never settling in one place. She had gobe off on her own away from the group to forage and scavenge food and medical supplies. The group went through a lot of medical supplies. She was incharge of keeping them stocked, being a few months shy of her medical degree. That meant she knew what to find. She had been throufh the local pharmacy, only coming up with some advil and anti-diarrial medication. She was heading towards the old nursing home. She knew it was risky, but at least the Zeds in therr would be slow and pretty deteriorated. A gun shot run out. Gwen jumprd glancing around. She had already dispatched four Zed tonight and really didn't wamt a hoard coming down on her. Conciously she had changed her directipn towards the gun shot.She would be willing to help if there were Zeds. Maybe find some new people to join the groip or her to join there group.

(Is it okay if she finds them?)