𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒔𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒉 𝒅𝒂𝒚

[azhefa.]

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full;; malakai de luca nick;; goes by mika age;; 25
-years-old gender;; male, he/him role;; relative [
hunter] born;; germany orientation;; demisex/pa
nrom love interest;; none partner;; none offsprin
g;; actually scared of kids kin;; the graham family
[cousin] traits;; quiet, reserved, rather shy, cautio
us, hates thunderstorms other;; struggles with en
glish at times, would rather stay quiet than sound
stupid, also has an intense fear of fire and storms
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[8_Stars_8]

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lottie has been the optimistic backbone of her fa
mily, well, as optimistic as she can be during an
apocalypse. when she's not helping out with chor
es, she can be found sparring. charlotte is a very
athletic person, and sparring helps her keep her
cool, as she has been known to be hotheaded. he
r influential optimism can be attested to her con
tagious laughter. though she is very family-orient
ed, she is easily annoyed by her siblings and her p
arents. charlotte, when she is not sparring, is hel

ping out in the kitchen, or getting food by either harv
esting it or hunting. she tends to go exploring, throu
gh any terrain, really. char is known to be a bit of an
adrenaline junkie and has risked life and limb for the
thrill of it. before the apocalypse, she was going to t
ravel europe, as she had just dropped out of universi
ty. she found that college didn't allow enough sponta
neity for her. when she sits still for too long, she gets
bored and reckless. from an outside view, her life loo
ks messy. and it is. but she is disorganized in everyth
ing and has gotten used to her unusual way of life. lo
ttie has always struggled with authority. suffice to sa
y, she has a rather impressive criminal record, thoug
h most of her crimes are petty misdemeanors. she is
a somewhat poor influence to her younger siblings, f
or this and other reasons. lottie won't apologize for t
his though, she's just very opinionated about many th
ings. she is just more drastic when it comes to showi
─────────────────────────────

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ng her beliefs. though charlotte does
not mind being social for the most pa
rt, she sometimes needs an escape,
and the best place she has found as
of yet, is the roof of her family's hou
se. she could just barely see over th
e treetops. lottie took time early in
the morning to watch the sunrise. t
his was a place of true solitude, bc n
obody would climb the house for her.

i. charlotte gray king ii. twenty-two
iii. pansexual/rom iv. 5'9" tall v. mu
scular, toned body vi. goes by lottie,
char, or charlotte vii. cisfemale viii.
spunky ix. hotheaded x. messy xi. fa
mily-oriented xii. easily annoyed by
her siblings xiii. king daughter ───

[8_Stars_8]

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| positive - ✓ | neutral - ☀ | negative - ✗ |
────────────────────────────

nora king - ✓
nora and lottie are the perfect embodiment
of two sides of the same coin. nora is cautio
us, while lottie is a risk-taker. but they both
want to do what's best for their family.

abraham king - ☀ ✗
abraham and lottie will cooperate, but beca
use lottie is a very brash person, abe tends t
o keep their distance from char. they know s
he has good intentions, so they tolerate one
another.

heather graham - ✓
besties, partners in crime: lottie is the delin
quent mama bird to heather. she is the one p
erson that char trusts to be in her hideaway o
n the roof of her family's home.

name - sym.
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[8_Stars_8]

res just in case

[8_Stars_8]

res

[HauntedMansion]

Aunt Delilah (Della) Graham
—— FACTS
birth name &&. ❛ Delilah Graham ❜
nickname(s) &&. ❛ Auntie, Aunt Della ❜
birth date &&. ❛ July 30 ❜
age (as of today) &&. ❛ 43 ❜
gender &&. ❛ female (she/her) ❜
sexuality &&. ❛ biromantic/sexual ❜
appearance &&. ❛ 5’5 with a toned build, bright green eyes, rose vine tattoos across her back ❜
personality &&. ❛ cynical, blunt, stubborn, charismatic, snarky, laid back, slightly paranoid ❜
marital status &&. ❛ unmarried, single ❜
likes &&. ❛ conspiracy theories, playing cards, napping, building/reinforcing, spicy sweet tea, summer weather ❜
dislikes &&. ❛ humorless people, being told she can’t do something ❜
family role &&. ❛ Aunt to the Graham family. Handy woman, builder ❜


(Fc: Cobie Smulders)

—— EXTRA
- Has worked a handful of jobs in the past- plumber, comedian, car salesman, etc. worked with a circus before the blackout.
- Has taught most of the kids any card game they requested, will not go easy on them and will gloat in every victory.
- Convinced that if they could just get rid of whatever is in the forest, they wouldn’t all be trapped. Willing to take up arms and get the job done herself. But only if she’s ever given permission, not wanting to risk the family.

[brunchman2000]

▓▓▓▓▓▓▓━━━━━━━━ 𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐥𝐞𝐭 𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐧𝐨𝐥𝐢𝐚 𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐡𝐚𝐦 ━━━━ she/her - fourteen - link; ✶ ━━━━━━
━━━━━━━━▓▓▓▓▓▓▓ 𝚝𝚊𝚐𝚐𝚒𝚗𝚐; mars • 𝚕𝚘𝚌𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗; near the chicken coop • 𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜; mars

indentthe gravel crunched underfoot as violet strode along the path, a slight spring in her step and a smile plastered to her face. the sun was shining delicately on the world and birds sung their songs as they perched on the large oak trees that scattered the property. it was a day full of possibilities and violet was especially aware of that; she had a happiness harbored in her heart that seemingly had no source and it was almost making her giddy. perhaps it was the very beautiful morning that presented itself; it had been a gorgeous sunrise and she'd spent the morning watching it as she sipped on a cup of chamomile tea. maybe it was this very moment, breathing in the fresh morning air, the dew twinkling on the grass, her hair blowing ever so slightly in the breeze as it whispered its secrets to her. maybe it was everything she had ever known and loved compiled into one overwhelming feeling of happiness creating a symphony inside her heart. she didn't exactly know, but she did know that she was truly happy for the first time in a while.

indentshe continued on her walk, the end in sight. she was performing her first chore of the day; the chickens. the small coop was made of wood, crafted by her father by hand and lined with wire to protect from foxes. it was her pride and joy; each chicken had a name, a personality, and a special place in her heart. the coop was where she went when she was sad, angry, frustrated, happy, or anything else. it was her outlet, her favorite place to be. the chickens never had expectations beyond food and they were all so simple and uncomplicated. they were the only thing she could truly have control of. they wouldn't act out or argue. they were content as long as they were fed and that was something she could deliver every day.

indentas she neared, she realized that her sister, maribel, was standing near, waving up at the king house. violet walked over, her smile lessening slightly as the sun shone in her eyes. she held up a hand to block it as she stood beside her sister. "morning, mars," she said in a light tone. "who are you waving at?" there was a hint of amusement in her voice, but she was mostly making conversation. just as she loved all her family, she loved her sister, mars. violet loved how much her sister cared for others; her intentional and organized nature, the way she loved and protected others. she was someone violet had always looked up to and nothing would ever make her lose respect for her.

[mtuan,]

𝐇𝐀𝐍-𝐁𝐈𝐍 '𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐋𝐎𝐖' 𝐋𝐈𝐌 (𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆)
❝ 𝘊𝘈𝘗𝘛𝘐𝘝𝘈𝘛𝘌𝘋, 𝘐𝘍 𝘠𝘖𝘜 𝘞𝘈𝘕𝘛 𝘐𝘛, 𝘊𝘖𝘔𝘌 𝘈𝘕𝘋 𝘎𝘌𝘛 𝘐𝘛, 𝘕𝘖 𝘍𝘙𝘐𝘊𝘛𝘐𝘖𝘕 𝘐'𝘔 𝘠𝘖𝘜𝘙𝘚 !! ❞
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tag, evan |etc, i really don't know what i'm doing lmaooo, 1,090 words

Morning comes early and easy for Harlow, the young man already lying awake with the comforters of his bed pulled up to his shoulders, eyes trained emptily up towards the ceiling of his room when the first signs of the sun began to climb over the horizon. With the curtains of his one window just slightly ajar, he could see- or at least, feel, the slowly rising brightness as the world began to wake. It's only dawn, by the time the young 'King' had found himself wide awake, eyes blinking away the bleariness of sleep and hands rubbing away whatever traces persisted, even when he chose not to leave the warmth of his bed just yet. It's probably five or six o'clock, Harlow guesses. But his clock sits in the other corner of his room- the side that he currently has his back facing, and the young man's too lazy to really shuffle over to check. He'd probably be seem blind, if he tried to read the numbers and arrows on the wall, anyway, all "symbols" bleary to his eyes by fatigue. To a degree, even if he wasn't physically tired, Harlow felt exhausted.

The skies are beautiful at this time, glowing in hues of pretty pink and just the tinges of orange and gray- both of the fading night and growing day. If he could, the young man would've stayed up to watch the sun rise- or maybe taken a picture to save for his memories. The colors were gorgeous and if- if only he'd been brave enough to (.. not to mention the lack in supplies), maybe Harlow would have painted his room with the trickles of morning; save his future self from the bore of the slightly tinged white walls.

Instead, Harlow finds himself at least attempting to doze off again, tossing to the side inevitably in an attempt to make himself comfortable once more-- not that he wasn't physically comfortable already, though it felt as if he had an itch in his mind; or maybe a hunch that something was up later today. It's been a weird one, no one could blame him for the way his mind seemed to be hardwired for alert, nowadays.

Harlow ends up very nearly dozing off for a good half an hour, mind teetering between the conscious world and the dreamscape, but never truly reaching it's desired destination. Instead, his mind was hazy, but his senses wide awake- at the sound of anything knocking against another hard surface in the house had the young man jolting to full consciousness.

It takes only one particularly hard jostle for the King to rouse for the final time, an elbow eventually propping his form up, chestnut hair wild, as he heaves a breath. Shaking his hair out at the sight of nothing, Harlow merely huffs and flops back against the softness of his bedsheets for one, two- three more moments. Before he finally decides to sit up, back propped against his pillows now, and Harlow rubs his face gently under the soft morning glow.

He stays like that for maybe five minutes or so; and then he's off into the bathroom. It doesn't take the man long to freshen up for the day- really, there were only two families here and they were close, what was there to dazzle up for? It wasn't as if everyone hadn't seen him at his worst already (presumably, anyway) and Harlow wasn't an entirely fancy dude to begin with. A bit of a lie, but that's fine.

Harlow ends up in a fresh, plain black sweater and some gray sweats, simple, easy, yet just 'put together' enough to not be considered sloppy-- kinda, he hoped (because fashion and style seemed to blur these days when there was no one else to impress). Now with his 'fit thrown on and himself fresh for another day of-- maybe just wandering around nearby the house, the young man heads out on his way.

He passes by the badminton racket hanging on his wall and briefly freezes in his place at the sight. Missing badminton would've been an understatement; it was a sport Harlow once loved and cherished as part of his life. And yet, with the recent blackout and the orders to stay away from the woods, cut off from any contact but the weird (-joking) neighbors next door, life had dulled down into the mundane, badminton slowly being phased out for other necessary "hobbies". There's a sour pang, but of what emotion, it's hard to decipher these days.

No electricity, no gas, no one to reach out for, no one to rely on. The world sure did seem much duller than usual when the very same words continued to echo through the man's mind.

Shoving his hands into the pockets of his sweats after closing his door shut, Harlow doesn't necessarily know where his feet would take him today (-or, what to expect from the day ahead), but some chilly, fresh air may help clear his head.

But of course, when the man passes by the attic above, from the corner of his eye, Harlow couldn't help but notice the slightly ajar entrance and immediately- he's intrigued. His steps are careful as the Korean man makes his way up and into the attic of their home, head peeking in once he'd pushed the latch (?) all the way open; Harlow makes a face when he notices the dust, clear as day, clinging onto the sleeve of his black sweater.

Upon heaving himself up into the small space, a couple brushes of his fingers against the dirtied sleeve in a feeble attempt to brush off the collecting dust in a room full of said particle, he takes a couple steps until a familiar figure comes into view. A boy in his late teens, sitting slightly crouched, a book and some writing tools in hand. Writing in here? It's quite dim and bad for the eyes, isn't it? But Harlow knows exactly who it was; who would be hiding away in the attic (of all places) to fade away from the family and trouble.

"Ah, so it is you up here, Evan. What do you have up your sleeve this time? Anything interesting here, away from the rest of the family?" Though the young man stops by the feet of Evan, he doesn't even begin to try and sit down, pretty, sharp eyes already eying the dust collecting across the attic floors. "Quiet- dusty though. Some fresh air would do better, dont'cha think?"

[brunchman2000]

▓▓▓▓▓▓▓━━━━━━━━ 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐥𝐞𝐢𝐠𝐡 𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐡𝐚𝐦 ━━━ she/her - seventeen - link; ✶ ━━━━━━━━
━━━━━━━━▓▓▓▓▓▓▓ 𝚝𝚊𝚐𝚐𝚒𝚗𝚐; charlotte • 𝚕𝚘𝚌𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗; by the king family house • 𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜; charlotte

indentthe hallway was still, the dust flowing though the sunlit air. there was not a sound except for the distant crickets and birds that chirped outside. it was the picture of peace; an old wooden floor, cream coloured walls, a light trickle of a breeze that flowed through an open window, gently moving the curtains in a slow dance. suddenly the scene dissolved as a door slammed open, followed by the clomp clomp clomp! of two heavy black boots on the floor. the wooden boards gave a few creaks of protest, but the boots stomped along with no sympathy for what was underfoot. the boots belonged to a girl with untidy blonde hair, who was equally as chaotic. although she did not speak, her gaze held something that was louder than any words. she had a slight smirk and her eyeliner rimmed eyes sparked with mischief as she continued on her way. she had no care in the world and was possibly trying to be the loudest she could, short of banging pots and pans into the silent house. this was heather, whose energy crackled around her like a thunderstorm.

indentthis was the usual way she made her entrance into a new day; a fierce attitude and her combat boots. at first, this had earned her many fights with her parents, but over time, her family had learned to accept it (and sleep through it, most of the time).
indentreaching the stairs, an idea flew into her mind, showing itself with a devilish grin on her lips. what fun would walking down the stairs be when she could get there much faster? leaping onto the railing, she wasted no time in executing her plan. heather slid down the railing of the old staircase, a childish smile lighting her face. she let out a sudden gasp as the thin railing shook slightly under her weight and before she knew it there was a crack and she reached the bottom and flung off with the momentum, landing with a thud on the kitchen floor. she couldn't help but laugh as she sat up, rubbing her head where she'd hit it against the floor. she quickly realized, too, what the crack had been; one of the spindles in the railing had come dislodged and lay in two pieces not too far from her. there was a slight cloud of impending doom that settled over heather for a moment, as she could already hear her mother's voice yelling and cursing her for being so reckless. but heather realized quickly that she didn't care. if she hadn't broken the spindle, it would have been something else, anyways. being in trouble was a constant state of being for her.

indentheaving herself off the floor with a wince of pain, she grabbed the edge of the kitchen island for support. it took her a few moments to shake off the remainder of the accident, but when she did she grabbed an apple from the table and fled from the house, letting the screen door shut with a snap behind her. she decided it'd be best if she made herself scarce quickly.
indenttaking a bite of the red fruit with a loud crunch, juice spraying into the morning air, heather walked through the grass at a quick pace. she looked around at the property as she did so, noticing a few others awake already. she wondered briefly if she should go over to them, but realized with a grin that she'd like to tell charlotte about her little stunt. she of all people would appreciate a little risk taking. stalking through the grass toward the king house, she quickly spotted her friend sitting on her usual perch on the roof. heather stopped at the bottom, gazing up at her, blocking the sun with one hand and waving with her apple in the other. "mornin!" she called. "mind if I join you?"

[ethereal .]

𝐁𝐀𝐒𝐈𝐂𝐒

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx'xxxxxxxx𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐘

i. poppy jean singleton ii. pj iii. seventeen iv.
cisfemale v. biromantic/sexual vi. king family
friend vii. straight, redish brown hair viii. haz
el eyes ix. light skin tone, normally on the pa
le side. x. stands at five feet three inches xi.
no tattoos or piercings. she was always too a
fraid to get any. xii. she has a few scars from
her childhood, but only a few are even still vis
ible. a thin line reaching from above her top l
ip through to the bottom lip, and another one
at the top of her cheekbone on the left side.

pj is mostly what a lot of people would consider an introvert. she likes to k
eep to herself or the people she's comfortable with, but by no means is she
a non confrontational person. if she feels that there is something that nee
ds to be said she will not hesitate to say it with her whole chest. backing d
own from a fight is not in her nature, and it never will be. ever since the b
eginning of the end she's had more of difficult time voicing her emotions a
nd it's frustrating for her to say the least. as of late they come through in
her actions more than anything. sorry, she's not a fan of physical contact b
ut she might just make you a snack while she's making her own. or if she se
es something and thinks you might like it she'll bring it back to you. it's the
little things, but you will never have to question her loyalty towards you.

𝐇𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐘

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