Form:Username: Caprice now. x3
Favorite type of RP: Apocalyptic
Sample of writing:From
here.
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Splattered about in every crevice of the rocky ground was congealed, brown blood, and among the partially decomposed bodies littering the earth next to the Cadillac were members of both sides of the fight, some that were human still clutched guns in their hands. Those on the opposite team were peppered with automatic fire, and a few lucky shots were headwounds. But the only thing Joelle appeared to notice was a severed zombie head, jaws still snapping, though not able to moan for lack of vocal chords and lungs. She seemed to be more amused than anything at it's futile attempts to reach her, more than ten feet away. Though the look on her face was one of agitation, partly because of the blood on her clothes and her lack of getting a shower for over a week, and partly because she had Kenny Loggins music in her head.
The mid-fall day was comfortably mild, even as the sun bore down heavily on her black clothing. Hanging loosely from Joe's right hand was a sleek double-edged sword that appeared to be coated by blood and grey matter and other bodily fluids one would rather not define. She guessed the time to be around eight in the am, judging by her rudimentary skills in the art of telling time by the sun. She quietly pressed onward, leaving the decapitation victim to bite forever at the air until someone happened upon it and feel mercy for what was left of the zombie. With a slight twinge of remorse, she recalled back when her worst fear was the second Barthandelus fight, not being eaten by dead people.. who just so happened to also be living. At the same time. That part, she still didn't understand. Reliable knowledge was scarce, some believed the virus was transferred through air, others thought that it was a military experiment gone awry. But as for her, it was just another setback. Just another person she didn't know out of the misery of life. Something she had wished for on many occasions before then.
She swung the blade lightly back and forth as she walked, the light tap of her Converse one of the only sounds on the fourlane. There was no more gunfire, no cars weaving between the wreckage of others who had failed to find safety, and had only crashed and burned. Everyone was either dead, a zombie, or in hiding while the undead amassed outside their doors, the moans growing louder as more joined the fray. Some had killed themselves, some had been killed by other humans, she had even been in a church where it was apparent the adults were 'merciful' and killed the children first. The few humans she had seen were either demented, feral, or just gave her a wide berth (afraid of her, she believed), others were desperate perverts who she would gladly shoot in a heartbeat. She had seen quite a few of the last in her travels.
Joelle walked parallel to the road's right shoulder.. She wasn't sure of the highway's name, or it's number, but she knew she was southbound and almost in Tennessee. Also known as, the heart of hick country. She paused, glanced back over her shoulder and brought her melee weapon to a more defensive stance, obviously a little paranoid from the noise she'd heard. She could have sworn it was footsteps. Though she had thought she had heard footsteps often.
"I'm losing my freakin' mind." she mumbled, though she used more eh.. choice words. Let's just say she could make a twenty-four year old sailor proud and leave it at that...
Any semi-lit/lit RPs you have:Here and
here.