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Post by Deleted on Aug 15, 2016 19:20:22 GMT -5
no prob maple!! right now timothee is "guarding" quiet, who is a new guy. i'll put a reply for tim as soon as prou posts ;; ))
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Post by Deleted on Aug 15, 2016 19:37:47 GMT -5
Amelia jumped back as soon as Borya approached, her deeply ingrained flight or fight instinct kicking in almost immediately. "Chill out, big guy. If your leader's not an idiot, he'll listen to other people- even 'evil outsiders,'" she said, moving her finger tips in sarcastic air quotes when she spoke the last two words. "And oh, you'd be surprised at what a storm could do. I lived on the streets for four years buddy, I was surviving before there even was a hint of an apocalypse. I know a nasty storm when I see one, and furthermore-!"
"For the love of god, I told you to shut up!" Isaac hissed, punching Amelia in the shoulder (although not to hard.) Amelia was extremely combative at the worst of times, and Isaac knew that he definitely did not want to be out there in what was sure to be a nasty storm, so there was no way he was going to let his redheaded companion ruin his chances of safety before they even spoke to the leader of this operation. Not that he particularly looked forward to spending who knows how long holed up with unfriendly strangers, but he figured he could keep to himself in a corner or something and stay out of whatever nonsense got stirred up among them.
Amelia quieted down, seemingly realizing Isaac's unspoken point. She offered only a "hmph" to the two before her, and crossed her arms defensively. She kept glancing towards the storm, however, and the unease in her stomach grew just as rapidly as the storm approached.
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Post by Deleted on Aug 15, 2016 19:43:30 GMT -5
"Y-yeah, a shirt. No problem." Wilhelm responded quickly, as though the request was urgent and not just a simple luxury to have while chilly. He slid off the bed immediately, but hesitated before leaving. There was something that was pulling him back, telling him to get back to his earlier position next to Ash, maybe wrap his arms around him and try to be comforting. He wants to be left alone. He was reminded with a faint grimace, and immediately ran a hand across his face to try and pull himself together.
At the very least before heading back he turned to Ash again and leant down beside the bed so that they were face-to-face. He was attempting not to be intrusive but between his own personal hurt and his worry for his boyfriend, he had little other choice. "Hey, it's alright, right? We're good." He furrowed his eyebrows, looking a little nervous about how everything was playing out. He leaned his forehead on Ash's, deciding not to push it by kissing him or anything, instead hoping the simple gesture was enough to get his point across. It's ok, it's ok, it's ok. He leaned back and let his gaze rest on him for a few long moments, and then continued out and away from him to go find a shirt and possibly some claritin.
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Post by Deleted on Aug 15, 2016 19:48:01 GMT -5
sooo i was talking w/ some friends about a fun plot, and we came up with the idea of the storm being a lot worse than it looks (hence the current build up rn asdghjk ) essentially it would divide everyone and make some drama go down, possibly send them scattering and lost, trying to find each other/the farm again (possibly its destroyed? who knows).
anyway we ~*~randomized~*~ some groups! if anyone wants their character to be switched around we can def do that, but a part of it is getting characters who dont normally interact w/ each other to do so
it wont be for too long and certain groups can find others quickly- sound good?
ash, wilhelm agnes, isaac arlo, borya, jamal sinclaire, timothee, riley, ghost, annika amelia, quiet viv, rowan, shelley, alyona devoss, rose
ofc for rp ideas and whatnot im totally open ;;
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Post by Tals on Aug 15, 2016 20:31:34 GMT -5
that's perf June~ ;`; I luv the lists~
-----
Borya had begun to bare his teeth, ready to argue about how the pity party of the storm being bad wasn't as bad as life for some of them, but it was thanks to Isaac that he saw how he was quick to pounce. He simply glared at Amelia, his chest puffing out to hold in his pride. However, it quickly deflated when Devoss snickered. The man had given Isaac an 'applauding' thumbs up before the man stuffed his hands into his pocket.
Eyes shifting, Devoss had looked to the storm and how it was rapidly forming. "Not to be a party pooper, but this lady here is right. Grab your stuff Borya- you might not find it ever again. Then how you gon' take down that wild bear?" he taunted, a soft snort like a mad bull escaping the heated Russian. "I bite back, so don't think about it," he warned, a not so friendly smile forming on his lips. The two held the gaze for the longest time before Borya was forced to look away with a mutter under his breath. Moving, the Russian was out to grab his things like suggested..
"Sorry 'bout him," Devoss smiled to Amelia and Isaac then
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Post by paradox on Aug 15, 2016 23:20:50 GMT -5
Ghost felt something tighten and twist in his gut as the girl took Arlo’s hand into her own and led him away, surly gaze following them up until the very moment they were no longer in view. Feeling much like he’s just taken a slap to the face, he attempted to swallow around the thick lump lodged in his throat but conflicting emotions of vehement jealousy and utter sadness threatened to bubble up and flood his already unhinged mind. With a quick glance around for anyone watching, Ghost followed to where the pair had wandered off but was careful to linger near the porch with his back facing them so as not to draw attention – his hearing honed towards the conversation ongoing behind the farmhouse, though it was impossible not to scratch at the porch’s worn out wood with his fingernails. Only select pieces of Riley’s words were audible from this distance but he heard what he needed to, confirming his fears but Ghost guessed he hadn’t no one necessarily needed to eavesdrop to figure it out. Leaning against the wall of the farmhouse, folding his arms and holding them against his chest in attempt to preserve a sense of security since such a thing was suddenly lost to him, Ghost took a glance at the environment again but his mind was too muddled to actually register what he was seeing.
‘Falling in love with you, Arlo’. Borderline hysterical laughter threatened to escape him but Ghost managed to withhold it without a sound passing through his mouth. Those were the exact same words he had used when he had finally mustered enough courage to confess to Arlo, who, at the time, had been no more than a scruffy boxer kid with a heart of gold, who prioritized his sister and mother above all else, who got good grades in every class but couldn’t afford college and would take jobs in the field or in the restaurant down the street just to keep a roof over his family’s head. While Ghost – Gabriel had been some rowdy criminal of kid, making money off a shady jobs and sleeping on the couch of a cramped apartment room shared by four others, the people related to him by blood not much of a family and the entire street referring to him as a no-good, troubled, never amount-to-anything, wreck of a kid. He had always believed they made the perfect pair, starkly different but similar in small yet important ways. He had even started to add a hyphenated ‘Castillo’ to his surname, convinced that they would end up marrying one day, anyway. “I think I’m falling in love with you, Arlo.” Gabriel had confessed once when Arlo had completed a boxing match and he had become overwhelmed by the pride and raw adoration he felt seeing his boyfriend in the ring, never having believed that he would be so happy. “I’m already in love with you, Gabe.” Arlo had laughed, one eye swollen shut and a blood dribbling out from a gash in his forehead but still handsome with that shining smile of his.
That had been Gabriel Vaquero-Castillo, Ghost was telling himself, trying to grasp for anything that would keep him from losing the last few fragments of his mind. Arlo had been in love with Gabriel and Ghost had murdered Gabriel years ago so why did he feel like his insides had been torn apart and ripped to shreds? He was in a daze, receding back to his autopilot mindset just to keep from falling apart completely. He forced himself away from the farmhouse wall if only to get out of earshot in order to avoid hearing Arlo’s reply. Ghost only got a few steps away until a gasmask toting woman started yelling something about a storm. Jeez, Arlo really knew how to pick them, didn’t he?
“I don’t suppose this place has a basement or something?” Ghost said aloud but he was already wandering up the porch steps, shoving his way past the group seated there in order to get into the farmhouse first. He didn’t care for the incoming storm, wouldn’t be bothered much if it morphed into a tornado and ruined the entire property, but wanted to do a quick assessment of the farmhouse’s inside just to sate his curiosity and distract himself from upsetting thoughts that were leading towards a dark and cold place.
--
To say that Arlo had short-circuited would be an understatement. There had been genuine, innocent surprise adorning his features the moment Riley had placed a crown of flowers on his head and a soft kiss on his lips, which would be the second time she’s done that, but the surprise eventually derailed into confusion and hesitance. ‘In love’? While Arlo was dense enough for people’s blatant emotion to fly over his head, even he couldn’t deny the fact that Riley’s feelings for him had inched over the border of simple admiration and compassion but to hear the actual words leave her mouth felt like a gust a winter wind hitting him in the face, taking him by surprise. He felt strangely anxious and insecure, like he was facing a crowd of utter strangers rather than one person whom he fully trusted and respected as he was put on the spot for an answer of some sort. Arlo didn’t have the mental capacity to put a label on his feelings for Riley, maybe he thought of her more than just a friend but he wouldn’t know quite what that felt like, only that he was vaguely comfortable with finding out. “I wouldn’t mind, either,” Arlo finally found his voice after a heartbeat or maybe it was several seconds, but his eyes had briefly drifted to the ground. Whether he shared Riley’s feelings or not, he was uncertain but was willing to give it a shot as he was hopeful of the outcome. But there was something nagging at his mind, reminding him why he shouldn’t go through with this.
“But Riley, something’s come up. It’s, to put it lightly, not good. It’s taking a toll on me and it’s going to take a toll on the group in a very big way, might cause a falling out, might even become worse than that but who can tell. I’m going to need to really pull myself together, mental wise if I’m to keep from letting it drift apart and I don’t know if I’ll be right for you during that. I might…change and not for the better. I don’t know how I’m going to be at the end of all this.” Arlo stopped himself before he could continue, giving a short and shaky laugh once he realized what he was saying. “I’m sorry, I’m probably scaring you, aren’t I? What I’m trying to say here is that I don’t know if I’ll be able to keep myself together for you, much less for myself. But if I’m just overreacting, thinking into this too much again then maybe…”
Arlo let that hang in the air, unsure how to complete the thought but figured that Riley got the idea enough. He managed to give her a smile, though this time it was a genuine expression filled with careful optimism tinged with actual happiness. It felt strange and foreign to give a sincere smile after going so long with only getting by through forceful ones but at the same time, it came naturally as he gazed at Riley. Part of him wanted to laugh, never having thought that anything would come from that pink-haired girl who he had found sat on a sidewalk beside a wagon of cans. He had been endeared, sure, but never would he had guessed that she would grow into an admirable sweetheart who somehow had managed to maintain her initial personality even through loss and decay. The other part of Arlo, though, the other part wanted to sulk in the cynicism that he wouldn’t be able to save himself from the imminent turmoil, that the simple happiness he felt was only temporary and would be the last time he felt anything like this again.
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Post by нσωℓ on Aug 16, 2016 0:03:38 GMT -5
"Arlo..." Riley whispered his name softly, cupping his cheek as her soft eyes gazed at his face. "I understand, and I'm not scared. I'm here for you, and if I can't be there for you at your worst, then I will never deserve you at your best. I can take care of myself so let me help you. You've helped me so much and now it's my turn to help you through whatever this is. I'm falling in love with you, all of you." Gently caressing his cheek with her thumb she coaxed him into looking her in the eyes as she spoke with a steady and ginger soft tone. "However you are at the end of this you will still be the person I adore. That won't change. You gave me a chance at my worst; I was a sniveling crybaby who didn't know how to fight or do anything on their own other than scavenge and stitch people up. Now I have a clinic in the barn, I have friends, I'm not afraid to speak my mind, I'm not afraid so much anymore, and best of all I get to be by your side." Her loyalty shone through like that of a puppy and perhaps she had the naivety of one as well. Time would tell, but she remained determined. "Whatever I can do to help; tell me. I'll help you in anyway you can, I don't need anything in return other than maybe a smile." Riley took his calloused hand in hers again, pressing a kiss to his knuckles. She was there for him, fully and truly. The fact that he said he wouldn't mind finding out if there could be something between them made the woman's heart soar. That meant there was a chance at the very least, a chance they were willing to give anything for. "I want to help."
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Post by paradox on Aug 16, 2016 1:05:00 GMT -5
There was a slight tension in Quiet’s demeanor as Timothée spoke up, unsure what to expect from this man but holding his gaze in order to gain some familiarity. If he were to luck out and be given the opportunity to join this group, then he might as well start learning how to step away from his feral nature and into a more suitable, team-friendly one. Quiet didn’t entirely react to Timothée’s mention of Agnes and her “prickly” behavior, simply resigning to blinking slowly as a show that he understood what was meant. The run-ins he’s had with the mentioned woman were sparse but one in particular had led him to where he was now: the memory of Agnes threatening him in the town that was now miles and miles away, armed with no more than a knife but the determination to keep her friends safe painfully clear, all started to flood back at once and remind him why he was risking his own safety for a chance to join a group of people who didn’t seem to particularly care for him. There was a dangerous loyalty in this set of survivors, some sort of attachment they had to one another that drove them to make risky decisions if it would lead them back together again. Quiet’s never experienced it yet he’s longed for it all his life. He knew that he didn’t deserve it, not after all he’s done and the lives he’s mercilessly taken, but he was working to fix that in order to gain that privilege. Redemption was so far out of grasp but Quiet hoped he could reach it before his life ended.
Out of sheer instinct and admittedly apprehension, his gaze followed and tracked every movement that Timothée made, especially as the other shifted his stance then, Quiet’s head fell to the side when all Timothée did was sit. Of all things, he hadn’t expected to be joined on the ground by the guy but it wasn’t unwelcomed. In fact, it felt…refreshing to be joined after so long of just going along with whatever the world threw at him. It should be worrying how easily attached he became to people who showed him the smallest act of kindness or just acts that didn’t involve violence or hostility but after being so detached from his own self for so long, it was very difficult to avoid. Quiet wished he could return the favor by telling the other his name – well, not his name but what everyone referred to him these days. Speaking was so obviously off the list of option and he only resorted to writing the words out whenever he grew desperate or particularly frustrated with people not understanding his hints. There was still one other way he could communicate it, though.
A gloved hand of his drifted up to his throat to grasp at the hog’s tooth that dangled from there, fingers closing around the shell of hollow-point point and simply hovering there for a second or two before tugging it over his head and carefully handing it over to Timothée to take. In the bullet there was a word engraved, five letters: QUIET. The nickname had followed him around for quite some time now but what had been a bad habit became second nature before it eventually consumed his entire being, the silly name becoming what he was now; wordless but not silent. It’s only been a few, fleeting moments but Quiet had the inkling that the one sitting before him was among the more decent ones, seemingly honest and of a good heart. If Quiet wanted to fit in, then he would have to take notes from those that weren’t labeled as a threat and Timothée seemed to fall under that category. Having seen Timothée give a faint smile before he forced it into a obviously faux serious one, Quiet attempted to mimic the initial expression, his mouth pulling into a shy attempt at smiling before it fell again and his bottom lip became trapped between his teeth.
--
“Still not a very responsible thing to do.” Rowan’s mouth fell into a tight line, still feeling guilty despite Alyona’s reassurance, as though there was some conscience in his mind now affecting his action and the result from them. He then gave a snort at the mention of Ash being grateful, returning to his typical arrogant self within moments, the scoff being followed with a roll of his eyes. “Yeah, well, if he was then Ash isn’t very good at showing it. Neither is that boyfriend of his.” Ditched his actual friends to save Ash’s hide and Rowan didn’t even get much of a thank you. The brief irritation that came out of suddenly remembering that he was shown much gratitude melted away at seeing Jamal again, a crooked grin breaking out on to Rowan’s face. He knew that Alyona had said that she and Jamal had made it out just fine, save the mysterious cut laced into the skin of her hand, but it was relieving to see it for himself. Rowan wasn’t much of a believer in simple words, anyway.
“Hey, Jamal, getting cozy with the new lady, I see,” Rowan teased with an elbow to Jamal’s side. It seemed Jamal had better skill in welcoming newcomers than Rowan did, remembering clearly that he hadn’t been so kind or hospitable to the man when they had first run into each other while on the outskirts of a forest fire. Had been overly abrasive, in fact and had nearly gotten away with leaving him behind if it weren’t for that ever present empathy and the fact that he had still been cemented in the thought that Arlo should be in control of who they accepted and who they turned away. Even during their trek to reunite with Arlo again at the town, it had been excessively difficult for Rowan not become naturally interested in man if only for his past occupation as an FBI agent or just because he tolerated Rowan’s bragging about his hunting skills or mere Mexican heritage. He hadn’t really thought that the interaction to fill in the silences would bloom into a genuine friendship, however but then again, Rowan’s been proven to be terribly wrong before if the farm they were standing in was any evidence.
“So, what - did you guys just pick up whoever you ran into on the way back? Farm’s already pretty full here,” Rowan gave a brief glance towards the group of Amelia, Sinclaire and Isaac then one towards the pair of Quiet and Timothée. He was sincerely hoping that Arlo wasn’t planning on keeping all of them but he was so easily won over by skills and strong personalities. “What about the other guy who came in with you guys? What’s he about?” Rowan asked and had taken a glimpse around the farmland for the man in order to point out who exactly he was referring to but failed to find him again. Either way, Rowan had spotted him practically glued to Arlo’s side when the group had returned and the sight of it had been vaguely suspicious but that could just be his possessiveness talking.
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Post by Tals on Aug 16, 2016 7:13:39 GMT -5
Devoss turned to blink at Ghost, the short man swallowing a nervous lump as he approached. He didnt really step inside the house, so he couldnt provide a good answer. His mouth opened, eyes shifting this way and that out of nervousness as he opted to hold back whatever it was to answer.
"Most likely. Somewhere theres a door. I have not been inside too long to fully look. Is there something you need?" Borya had calmly replied, over his little fit from earlier. Under one arm was a hide wrap, and in his other hand were multiple belts and several knives sheathed in their own hold. His head lifted, eyes narrowed as to block out the sun that was going to be quickly blocked out.
His head tilted, blonde hair being tugged by the wind and removing it from its neatly combed state. Borya shifted his hold, setting the hide down and putting on one of the belts over his own belt that sat there. It seemed the other belt was for someone slimmer than he, and he simply gripped it a bit tighter then. This man was new, and asking for a basement. Couldve been in connection to the storm, but it made the Russian more uncomfortable than reassuring.
--
Alyona had given him a gentle nudge in hopes to show she was okay, a smile forming when he had returned to his normal self. Her eyes turned to Jamal, a grin cracking her face as she listened to the playful banter between the men. Her arms crossed below her chest, giving a little snicker. Pausing, her eyes shifted over Shelly and then to the others.
"Well Shelly here was looking for her husband. Arlo agreed to help her for a good time," she told Rowan before shuddering at the memory of Ghost. The man made her skin crawl- however that was an understatement. Her skin turned a shade paler than it already was, and her eyes narrowed at the area about them. "He's creepy... A little unforgiving too," she told Rowan as her thoughts wandered for a brief moment. She didnt say anything else, knowing Jamal was the one who had more interaction with the stranger.
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Post by Deleted on Aug 16, 2016 8:18:54 GMT -5
Timothée took the hog tooth necklace, a little confused by the gesture as he did so. Despite being originally intuitive enough to realize the man wasn't going to speak at all (or perhaps couldn't?), he did originally mistake the necklace for a very strange offering, and furrowed his brows when it was handed to him. Of course upon closer inspection, he realized there was something scrawled into the metal, and upon squinting his eyes to see it, he realized it was a single word.
"Quiet?" He repeated, flipping his gaze between the man and the necklace again, though understanding finally flooded into his gaze and created a sort of crook on his born-again smile. "You know, it suits you." He commented, not rudely, but certainly humorously at that. He wasn't exactly certain if he was doing his job right, certainly Agnes wouldn't agree much with his befriend-the-"enemy" tactics, but in truth Tim really couldn't help himself. He was still naive enough to see "human" before he saw lines of alliance, perhaps due to all his time in Ingrym's camp as a prisoner without ever really considering himself one of Ingrym's at all. Quiet. He mulled over the name, realizing it must've been a nickname of some sort; this led him to thinking of what his own nickname may be... Scar? The humor made him a bit uncomfortable, so he decided to focus back on Quiet and away from his thoughts.
"Oh! Ah... This is Annika, by the way." He introduced quickly, as though he'd nearly forgotten about her presence in his trance. He nodded to the young woman, who, with her knife and surreptitious expression, looked hardly pleasant to get to know. Then again is anyone around here really that pleasant to meet? The Russian girl perhaps, pink-lady for sure, and perhaps face-mark's ex fiance? That was about it, though: not much for such a large group of survivors. "She's my friend, er, we came here together." He explained brusquely, finally handing back the necklace. He thought for a moment about investing in a sort of adornment that read "scar" on it in engraved letters, and this time, he let out a slight chuckle to himself.
* * *
Jamal's eyes immediately grew wide at Rowan's joke, a clumsy sort of smile on his face, though he seemed to let off some steam as Rowan elbowed him and he was reminded it was simply a joke. "Showing her around, actually." He corrected with a look that could only be read as a little bashful. It was somewhat of a known fact that Jamal usually didn't get close enough to others to ever call a relationship into question (or even a fling, for that matter). He'd always been awkwardly patient, waiting for when Agnes would eventually "come around" and crawl out of the shell he'd convinced himself she could actually shake off. The mere mention of anything other than her made him a little uncharacteristically clumsy with his actions.
He'd sharpened up sense then though, and had now directed his attention to Ghost, frowning a little bit at him. "It wouldn't be right of me to say..." He admitted thoughtfully, knowing well enough that first-meetings were never telling of one's actual heart (take Rowan, for example), though even he in all his politeness couldn't deny there was something off about the man. "But regardless, something is a little off." He spoke up, voicing his immediate thoughts: he had nothing to hide from Alyona and Rowan anyway. "That and I think he's just been on his own too long, you know how people get when they're like that." His voice stiffened at the last sentence, a bit of sadness in his usually contemplative gaze, though he worked quickly to wave it off.
Breaking up the silence that had followed, Jamal elbowed Rowan in return, giving him a mock-offended look. "Also, don't be rude. This is..." He bit his lip, struggling to remember her name. The ocean... Sand... Seashore? Seashells... Shells... Shelley! "Shelley! Her name is ah-em, Shelley."
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Post by нσωℓ on Aug 16, 2016 9:21:36 GMT -5
Shelley let out a slight laugh from where she had resigned herself to sitting at the nearby picnic table. "Yes, my name is Shelley. I wouldn't even think about suggesting anything, I'm married! I took a holy vow and that still stands so long as my husband is alive!" The woman wagged a finger at them, faking a look of scolding. "Which he is." She had to add. Remembering the more important task at hand she pulled her footless prosthetic from the stump that was once her leg and waved it in the air for them to see. "Hey, you guys got any extras screws lying around? I need one to put my foot back on, a screwdriver would be nice too. I can trade you some kool-aid powder for it." When she heard them remark on the other man she began pursing her lips, looking for the man in question for a moment before her eyes landed on him. "He's feral you mean? It looks like you have another feral here as well." Her emerald eyes drifted over to Agnes, but did not say another word. Surely they already knew the one girl was feral, and if they still wanted her around that was none of Shelley's business. She and Saan had been the same way with a boy they had found, he was barely 17 and feral as he could be. They had taken him, looked after him like you would your own child. The safe havens they went to turned them away so long as the boy was with them. Eventually though he was just far too gone to handle being around people anymore.
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Post by maple on Aug 16, 2016 12:06:06 GMT -5
[ im here for a little bit! // and june, that plot looks great! i was just wondering, could i possibly throw clementine somewhere into it? I was planning on posting a starter for her i just didn't get a chance (: ]
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Post by Deleted on Aug 16, 2016 13:45:18 GMT -5
yeah no prob!! i wasnt certain if you were still rping her or not
i'll update the front w/ groups so everyone knows! (and if anyone has a problem with one/wants to be in another/etc feel free to message me here or even PM me!)
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Post by Deleted on Aug 16, 2016 13:47:40 GMT -5
working on an agnes rn because SOMEONE is yelling at me ,:V
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Post by нσωℓ on Aug 16, 2016 14:04:52 GMT -5
I drew the scene going on between Riley and Arlo right now <3 ))
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Post by Deleted on Aug 16, 2016 14:19:57 GMT -5
Agnes watched the exchange, frowning slightly but not exactly prepared to jump in and stop it. At the moment, her job was to sit, watch, and hold a gun in a way that looked like she knew how to shoot (she was getting exponentially better however). When the time came to it she'd jump to Borya's defense before the newcomers', more keen on loyalty than reason, but seemed to relax somewhat as they reached a unanimous conclusion: the storm was approaching, and it wasn't going to be a friendly one by any sense of the word.
"Alright-" She suddenly spoke, finally using a tone of voice that wasn't thick with frustration, but rather fluid and more orderly. Stress? People? There wasn't a chance on the planet she'd be able to handle those in a reasonable fashion, however oncoming danger was sort of what the young woman had become accustomed to dealing with. As soon as she heard Amelia mention that they should take cover, she'd decided to get on it. "You three: Amelia, Sinclaire, and.... You..." she paused, frowning slightly at her lack of remembrance toward Isaac's name, but continued on nevertheless. "Get inside and start looking around for somewhere safe enough to take cover. I... I trust you guys to do that, alright" She pursed her lips and frowned; no, Agnes did not in even the slightest way trust the three newcomers to do anything, though it was painfully clear that she was pressing all her hope on the possibility that they'd comply. "Borya? Devoss? Make sure weapons and food and any other sort of supplies get inside and fast... If you come across anyone able like Rowan or Viv, they're free to help. Just- no Riley's or Jamal's, they should go inside right away. Make sense? Yes?" She didnt wait for an answer before hurrying down the hill a ways to where the others were gathered. "I'll spread the word. Get- get everyone inside. If it gets real bad, get inside. No protagonists- er... heroes. No playing hero." And then she was off for real.
Still gripping her rifle, Agnes was off, frowning slightly as she glanced from side-to-side. There was Timothée, Quiet, and Annika... Should she invite them in? Was Quiet even allowed in? They'd have to wait for just a second, at least until she could get to Arlo and figure out what exactly his "plan" was. While trying to find the others, Agnes found herself smacking into Wilhelm, the both of them wide-eyed and shocked at the encounter. At the same time, they both shouted: "You need to get inside!" + "Where can I find a warm shirt!?" After the sudden demands, they both grew somewhat quiet, unsure of exactly what the other one was trying to get across.
The first one to speak was Wilhelm- no surprise there. "I need a shirt. A real nice one, I-"
"Wilhelm!" Agnes suddenly interrupted, sounding exasperated. While she had eventually extended her fierce loyalty onto the man, there was no denying that he was an idiot if there ever was one. "Shirts don't matter right now. Do you know where Ash is? Yes?" For a second time, she didn't wait for a response. "Good. I need you to find him, stay inside, and er... Stay put. There's a storm, a bad one, okay? A... A doozy." She repeated the same word Amelia had used, having liked the sound of it earlier when it was spoken.
Wilhelm frowned, confusion washing over his expression. Of course, upon glancing to the sky, he realized the genuine trouble they were in. "R-right. Yeah, I'll- I'll find him." He muttered quickly, and headed off into the other direction without another mention toward the shirt he was trying earlier to find.
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Post by Deleted on Aug 16, 2016 14:25:12 GMT -5
ash, wilhelm
agnes, isaac
arlo, borya, vivienne, clementine
sinclaire, annika riley, ghost, annika
amelia, quiet, timothee
jamal, rowan, shelley, alyona
devoss, rose, annika
(hows this fam)
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Post by maple on Aug 16, 2016 14:37:51 GMT -5
[ my mom took all my devices away so i wont be on for awhile just a heads up ]
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Post by Deleted on Aug 16, 2016 14:52:09 GMT -5
oh no im sorry :/ thanks for telling us ;; ))
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Post by Deleted on Aug 16, 2016 14:56:05 GMT -5
"...Ok," Ash said quietly. The small gesture was comforting, even if Ash was still too shaken up to look Wilhelm in the eye. He sat up in the bed after Wilhelm scurried off, jumping slightly when a loud crack of thunder sounded off over head. He frowned, hoping nobody (least of all his boyfriend) would get caught outside in a storm. He hadn't seen any clouds when he had been outside earlier, had the storm really moved in that fast...? Or maybe he was just too shocked to notice it when he was being moved from the picnic table to the barn.
He found himself glancing around the building, the light that had earlier been coming through the windows now darkened by the incoming clouds. He noticed a pile of something in the corner, which piqued his curiosity enough to go and look at it. It appeared to be a piece of clothing of some sort, and upon further examination it was a flannel shirt. How convenient, he thought, slipping the thing over his thin frame. He hesitated for a moment, staring at the barn doors and wondering if he should go out after Wilhelm. He decided against it, but figured if he wasn't back soon he would risk getting caught in the storm to find him.
Isaac was already opening his mouth to snap back at Agnes that his name was Isaac, thank you very much, but Amelia was already dragging him inside. "You heard her, come on- both of you!" She said, an urgent tone filling her voice. Sinclaire scrambled inside behind his two companions, and it wasn't long before the three had found a corner of the living room to hunker down into. It might has well have been night outside, the storm clouds were so thick and dark. Amelia felt a certain restlessness in her, the kind that she usually felt when there was imminent danger. Her thoughts were drowned out by an exceedingly loud thunder clap, the sound of which echoed ominously across the fields the surrounded the farm.
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Post by Deleted on Aug 16, 2016 14:56:36 GMT -5
(( aw man i'm sorry maple!! thanks for letting us know, hope you're back soon D: ))
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Post by paradox on Aug 16, 2016 16:16:25 GMT -5
Arlo had opened his mouth to say more but the words never quite left him. He knew that Riley deserved to be held in higher regard, having proved herself more than capable of handling problems that came her way and have matured over the months but involving her in his personal problems – involving anyone was inherently dangerous. Arlo wasn’t much of an open book to begin with and no one else knew the extent of chaos waiting to unravel by Ghost’s doing, whether it be through attempting to repeat his past actions or his mental instability making him a coarse and uncooperative person who created more problems than there already were. His being was distorted and twisted until nothing of Gabriel was left, leaving an unpredictable person in his wake and Arlo needed to try and suppress it, try to find the man he had once loved beneath the disillusions and estrangement before anyone got hurt. “Thank you, Riles.” It was all he could think of could say at the moment, overwhelmed by his two conflicting minds; telling him that he could use an emotionally sensitive person at his side with support and compassion, while the other argued that Riley didn’t deserve to get tangled up in the issues that he helped create with Ghost, that she deserved better than him, then this unforgiving world.
“Something’s happening.” He stated, matter of fact-ly but not much explanation was needed as the rolling black clouds alighting with white lightning and rumbling with distant thunder provided enough information. The reality of the world’s condition seemed to roll in with the storm, pleasant moments such as this never truly lasting long enough to completely appreciate it. “Come on,” Arlo mumbled and led Riley away from the behind the house, taking her by the hand to hurry her along. Rounding the corner, his typical calm and collected leader façade seemed to construct all over again as he took in a deep breath and prepared to round up everyone into the farmhouse. “Riley, do me a favor, go inside and count everyone to make sure they’ll all in, okay? Don’t come out and make sure no one else goes out, either. Oh! And hold this for me,” Arlo couldn’t help but laugh lightly as he took the flower crown from his head to carefully place back into Riley’s hands for safekeeping. Then, he was off again, hurrying up into the midst of the commotion and getting his thoughts into order as he tried to think first of what to prepare for.
“Borya, Viv! Come help me find something to board up the windows or sandbags to prevent possible flooding. Water nearby might rise up, wind might get worse, who knows. We gotta prepare for anything, alright?”
--
“For the storm, why else, genius?” Ghost had snapped towards Borya over his shoulder, his nerves getting the best of him that he didn’t think twice about yelling at people whom he barely knew. He slammed the door shut behind him without care of who would follow suit and immediately got to checking that all the latches on the windows were working properly, trying to find something to keep him busy. Right now, he didn’t feel much different than he had when he had spent years of endless wandering, which was an insatiable loneliness, hopelessness and emptiness. From the second that Arlo’s voice had registered into his mind at the pharmacy, he had known that he wouldn’t ever leave the man’s side again in hopes of rebuilding what they had once shared. He had been willing to put up with whoever was following him around these days, stash away his differences and personal feelings of whatever group Arlo had compiled, all for Arlo. But now Ghost didn’t even have that, wasn’t given the chance to redeem himself for the man that he still loved so what did he have left here, in this Earth?
Ghost began to push aside the cluttered furniture in order to make room for a growing group of people, not wanting to deal with the irritation of someone attaining claustrophobia or childish complaining of someone intruding on their personal space. He had used to pull off tasks like this back in his old camp under the orders of Claudia, he and Arlo always attempting to make the woman’s leadership position a bit easier and less stressful. Even from under the shelter of the farmhouse, he could hear Arlo start giving out orders and it was difficult not to hear his sister’s voice echo in his words. Ghost wanted to believe that Arlo had grown into a respectable leader like she had but he wondered whether the same thing would happen to this group if he happened to just become a shadow of Claudia. Claudia had been everything a leader should be and yet she still fell, so what was to keep from Arlo meeting a similar fate?
--
Rowan’s mouth pressed into a tight frown, his initial jokester demeanor dying away to be replaced with sudden uncertainty when his question was met with words describing the stranger man as “creepy, unforgiving” and “a little off”. He subconsciously drifted back over to where he had last seen the man as though reconsidering him through a new view but rather than a judgmental glower that was typically used when Rowan was faced with unfamiliars, there was vague trace of contemplation tinged with the slightest bit of fear. “Why would Arlo bring in someone like that?” He wondered aloud. You know why. Rowan wanted to laugh off the thought, bite his tongue off for even considering the possibility. People like that didn’t get to come back, not after they already caused enough damage to last a millennium. Even with that reasoning, Rowan seemed to withdraw into himself, now uncomfortable with his own thoughts. Jamal elbowing him brought him to grounding but the action nearly made him flinch.
“Shelley, huh?” Rowan echoed when Jamal finally remembered the woman’s name. “Pretty name for a pretty lady, right, Jamal?” Despite himself, there was no harm in continuous teasing if only to keep himself from receding back into his own thoughts and unwanted memories. He was never quite adept when it came to dealing with his own emotions in a mature way, but the only way he’s dealt with this problem so far was mere repression. His gaze was forced away from the farmhouse’s door upon Shelley speaking up again, his attention falling down to her prosthetic. “I can probably fix that up for you, miss, free of charge – er…kool-aid powder. Right now, we should probably focus on getting back inside,” He stated as soon as both Agnes and Arlo began to bark orders. “Jamal seems keen on helping you around, Shelley so he’ll help you into the house. Alyona, you’ll probably want to get in as soon as possible, too. I’m gonna go grab as much as I can before the storm hits.”
That, and Rowan wanted to prolong entering the house as much as he could. He was admittedly afraid of who he would find in there. He was being ridiculous, he knew that, his mind was simply playing tricks on him and making him assume the worst of the worst. Rowan took off from the group, heading towards their stock of weapon and ammunition to drag back inside as quickly as possible. Food, where was the food stockpiled again? His mind was a muddled mess, memories unwillingly drifting back to seeing Rogue get torn apart and the man who had simply watched and not made a single move to help. Rowan had first known him as Gabriel, someone who Arlo had followed around without question, then he became Ghost, someone who Arlo had distanced himself with, but now Rowan could only think of the dead man as his brothers’ murderer.
--
Quiet watched Timothée’s fingers move the hog’s tooth around, apprehensive of getting the necklace back. He had made a maneuver of sheer trust by handing it to the other man, uncertain of whether it would be returned at all but still aching to start practicing trust in these people even if it was as simple by handing him a certificate of his sniper skills engraved with the nickname of his. Another shy smile flitted onto his mouth upon seeing Timothée give one, wondering whether doing so could be considered polite but the expression seemed to soften into a more natural one when his name was commented on. He’s been ruthlessly teased for the word, mostly out of attempts to finally get him to “break” and say something but the humorous remark was far more tolerable than the so-called jokes he had used to endure. Finding himself being able to relax under the extra presence, Quiet retrieve the hog’s tooth a bit too hurriedly when it was handed back before slipping it back over his head to rest against his chest.
Quiet’s gaze had only briefly wandered up towards Annika’s pointed out figure but failed to feign interest in the woman, having already decided that he preferred Timothée and Riley above everyone else. While neither of them seemed to hold much control or sway over whatever diplomatic system ran this group, which was admittedly what Quiet was holding out for in order to find a way into said group, their good natured attitude was far too charming not to fall for. Or perhaps he was just to easily won over by simple acts of kindness since he didn’t necessarily deserve such a thing. Then, a distant commotion seemed to draw Quiet’s attention away from the first pleasant interaction he’s had in months, reluctantly dragging his gaze away from Timothée in order to assess the situation occurring near the farmhouse. A collective yet abrupt sense of urgency seemed to have fallen over the group, figures hurrying about and Quiet carefully stood up from the group with a faintly concerned expression crossing his features in the form of a small frown and furrowed eyebrows. His attention was forced into the sky by a clap of thunder, the sound visibly startling him and quickening his heartbeat as it could have easily been mistaken for a gun going off.
This was far from the gorgeous rainclouds that Quiet adored so much, such a beloved spectacle of nature distorted into ugly and dangerous weather that could ruin or take lives in mere moments. The wind was picking up at a considerable rate as the storm neared closer to the sky overhead, a silent warning to either take cover or take a chance with the mercy of the Earth. Quiet reacted immediately by taking Timothée by his wrist to pull him up from the ground but then a thought seemed to stop him in place. What would happen to him? Would he be left to his own devices, to fend for himself in the incoming weather? Surely he wouldn’t be welcome into the farmhouse that everyone else seemed to be rushing into. Quiet didn’t exactly let go of Timothée’s wrist, suddenly afraid but selfishly not wanting to be left alone again and his gaze bore into the other as he waited to see what the other would do.
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Post by Deleted on Aug 16, 2016 19:49:04 GMT -5
Wilhelm heading back in what was not quite a run, but a very quick walk; the sort of walk 40-something year old white moms typically did in the grocery store while competing for the last turkey on thanks giving. The wind had already picked up, turning the earlier muggy atmosphere into that of chilled confusion- constant breezes swishing about with no real direction to their surges.
He pushed into the barn, immediately rambling about as he seemed both nervous and embarrassed that he'd returned empty handed. "Right, right look. I couldn't find a shirt, and not in a weird cheeky way or nothin, there's actually a storm. Agnes called it a doozy-" He cut off from talking, realizing that somehow Ash had already found something to put on. Immediately a smile broke his face: the tense situation from before seemed gone from his mind, and he was now focused on the nervous excitement from the storm mixed with the fact that he was back to Ash and "everything was alright". "Oh. You already have one that works." He smiled one of his shy smiles before realizing he'd forgotten to completely finish his earlier thoughts regarding the storm... "Oh, right. We should get out of here, or hide under a bed or somethin... I don't know. You remember those old tornado sirens? Sorta like that, 'cept Agnes is screaming instead of the alarms. Er- what I'm sayin is that it's really not safe right now."
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Post by Deleted on Aug 16, 2016 20:09:14 GMT -5
"What are you-" Timothée frowned as Quiet suddenly tugged him to his feet, the nervousness he'd held earlier at the prospect of watching the "prisoner" returning as soon as he began to expect the worst. He had half the intention to yank his hand away and try to establish some sort of boundary between them; not one borne of needs for comfort, but rather just his initial jumpiness in dealing with the stranger. The thoughts faded as soon as he saw what he was calling attention to however, and immediately the man's expression wavered with uncertainty. The storm wasn't one in question; it wasn't when it was to approach, if it would approach, or whether or not it'd be severe. Instead the storm was answers, and all of them seemed to point to the fact that danger was on its way, and fast. He turned to Quiet, and the shared glance between them spoke enough words to fill the inevitable silence that would always veil the air when it was Quiet's turn to communicate. He couldn't leave him. That being said, Timothee wasn't the type to leave anyone, but somehow the gentle stranger whom everyone seemed convinced was brutal made him react especially foolishly.
"Annika-" He suddenly spoke, snapping into reality. He let Quiet continue holding tight to him, figuring that pulling away would only make him seem as though his intentions were to ditch the newcomer. "Get to the barn, alright? Like everyone else is doing. I'll meet you there, I just need to figure this out first."
Timothée turned back to Quiet, giving him a serious look. "I'm figuring this out, ok? You're not being left behind that's just- it's not right." He wondered in passing if this would make it so that he wasn't allowed into the barn himself, but decided not to linger on it. They didn't exactly have time to debate about morality at the moment, and neither did anyone else. The wind was picking up speed faster and faster at that point, enough to get a jolt of fear to run through his chest. "S-so, any bright ideas? Let's get the hell out of the open, at least..." He'd lived his final apocalypse-free days in New York City, not exactly known for its storms, but even then the young man knew that being in the middle of a field with something that big coming their way was no where near his definition of "bright ideas". Nodding his head to the woods, it was he now who was tugging Quiet along. "I think past the treeline there's some houses!" He found himself having to raise his voice above the storm.
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Post by Tals on Aug 16, 2016 20:30:15 GMT -5
Borya's lips had immediately pressed into a thin line. "Go find it yourself," he immediately hissed out at Ghost, a sign that his fur was now definitely, rubbed the wrong way. His jaw had tightened, ready to pounce on the other man- however his wishes failed to come true. He looked at Agnes and then to Arlo, a slight growl in his throat. "На любовь Бога! Каждый человек имеет обязанности как лидера," he had shouted, hands raised in the air and the large man in small distress. Finding as Arlo was the leader, he immediately opted to follow after the smaller man. He held a throbbing eye, a vein that was pulsing and visible at his temple and his evergreen eyes narrowed to the point that he felt like he could only see a slit to the world.
He prowled after him, his breathing relaxing and the simple movement letting him carry with ease. At least the hides were out of the way. It left him to not worry about the fact that Alyona would have to struggle in trying to carry it's large case. He felt his energy draining, the sight of the sun fading seeming to alert his subconscious system to head off to bed. Borya was the type of man to sleep when the sun set, and the one to rise with it. It didn't prove welcome in the Winter, but he enjoyed it during the summer, when it was the perfect amount of time to sleep and then to wake. His jaw clenched as the thunder rolled and the crackle of lightning make a pattern to much of a river system. He didn't say much, but simply let his frame stoop over once they had moved off and by the barn. He had remembered seeing some boards lying against it, and he brought it up to rest on his shoulders.
Borya's muscles flexed, holding it to his shoulder as he swung his body around and soon trudged over to see if Arlo was still moving or he had paused. "Found some," he rumbled in rusty English, seeming to have recollected his social being and calmed down quite a massive bit. However, there was something that was still bothering him. Alyona had gone off to see Rowan, but that doesn't mean she would obey some of the orders given. So what would that mean? If she didn't listen, and depending on how bad the storm... A sad look crossed his features, his scars elongating and his lips relaxing from its tight line. He would've lost his world then. And he wasn't ready. He never would be.
Devoss stared at Agnes, and had given a glance up to Borya when he cried out in Russian tongue. "Dezelfde bud.." he had stated quietly. He had hung around the siblings for such a time that he could understand them- but not speak their language. It was quite intriguing, the way they just barely opened their mouth and it rolled off their tongue. Shifting his sweater on his shoulder, he had slowly walk down the steps and down to the side, presumably to go and find what he was given order to find. His eyes searching the area, and he found his pace immediately quickening to finish it before the rain fell.
Alyona opened up her mouth to object- to help Rowan but she knew better. He seemed already in a bad mood, so why disobey his words? Eyes drooping, the little blonde gave a slow nod before she was turning and making a small scurry to the house. Maybe she could help inside. That, she could be useful in, right? Giving a small smile, she found herself stepping inside and her eyes widening at the sight of Ghost. Her footsteps were hesitant, the soft thump of her boots alerting anyone within the home. She nervously pressed her hands together, eyeing him in a very cautious way.
"H-hallo," she stuttered softly. "I could help... What would you like me to do?" she asked kindly then, moving slowly forward as she closed the door to a crack. Moving over, she didn't need to be told right away what he was doing. In fact, she was pushing the old furniture to the side the best she could too. Her tiny frame was almost concealed behind one of the larger chairs, and her eyes kept Ghost in her peripheral. She was no idea what he was capable of, so she took a 'step' in being cautious. Once moving a chair to the far corner, she moved a side table out of the way, and placed a small lamp underneath it to keep it from its possibility of falling to the floor.
Alyona had set the hide backpack off to the side, her hair over one shoulder and her hands tenderly gripping one of the tables to move it. Her feet brought her to her tippy toes, barely raising the legs off the floor and slowly but surely, sliding the table off to the side to the conjoined living room. The tattered curtains seem to help darken the interior from the outside, and her frame had paused to stare out the window to look at the farm. The clouds looked black- pitch black- and it didn't hold a welcoming look.
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Post by Deleted on Aug 16, 2016 21:25:06 GMT -5
Agnes realized fairly quickly that things were set in motion again, a faint sigh escaping her lips. While everyone seemed to be in a stressed sort of jumble, it was the rise of dangerous circumstance that brought out the best in her; all other scenarios had gray area, a gray area she was too emotionally weak to navigate, but these? These had only one solution, and that was to survive any means possible. She could do that.
The young woman stopped as she saw Arlo shouting out orders; despite herself, she couldn't help but to have a weak grin on her face, tired yes but certainly still present, due to the storm being the perfect excuse not to confront him over what to do with Quiet and the rest of the newcomers. "Arlo!" she called, realizing she had to raise her voice above a new crushing frenzy of storm air. Rain was starting to come down too, and it sprayed her with a great sharpness, as though little chilly needles were cutting through her skin from up above. "I spoke with Amelia! It'll be a doozy. Get inside as soon as you can!" She hesitated, glancing behind her as if unsure if she was going to go through with a questionable decision or not, though when she turned back, it seemed her mind was made up. "Don't count for me in the barn- I know a safe place, I need to get something done first! And trust me, for godsake!" Her voice didn't sound persuasive, but rather, hard and factual. If there was one thing Agnes was good at, it was certainly getting herself into trouble- however if there was another, it was surviving through whatever means were thrown her way.
Agnes did one finger-pistol as a last remark (it was her signature gesture as a sharpshooter, after all) and then turned back to continue her hunt. Her job seemed mostly done- alerting everyone of the storm- but now something else was on her mind. She'd earlier left Timothée and Quiet to their own devices, and by the way she'd conversed with the masked redhead earlier, that seemed like the farthest thing from merciful one could get. And Agnes was testing the waters with mercy. Perhaps she didn't believe necessarily in karma or a heaven or anything like that, but so many of her group seemed to have that particular trait of goodness that she must've lost who-knows-how-long-ago, and it was for that reason that the young woman was struggling to find it in herself, too- refusing to admit that she was lacking as a human being in comparison to them. Even if she'd have to scratch at her own mind to get it out of her, or at the very least, faked it until it came naturally.
Agnes stopped at the area where Tim and Quiet were once, cursing to herself softly as they seemed to have moved a ways away. Of course. She bit her lip, struggling to decide whether she should try to find them or scurry off to a safety of some sort.
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Post by Deleted on Aug 16, 2016 21:56:15 GMT -5
Amelia had been restlessly pacing about the front room of the farmhouse, basically ignoring everyone else and what they were doing. The rain was beginning to fall in full force, the thick droplets pelting the aging roofing of the farmhouse in droves. The wind outside was howling so fiercely it sounded as if a pack of wolves were running by the farm, their mournful cries echoing ominously like the yowls of wayward spirits. Where are the rest of these people? Surely, they should be in here or at least some other shelter by now, she thought. She paused her relentless pacing to glance outside the window, although it was difficult to make out what was outside due to the teary streaks of water covering the glass. She squinted, however, and could make out two distinct figures voyaging into the treeline. She cursed under her breath, figuring they had gotten turned around in the squall. That's what made sense to her at least, seeing as she didn't know of any buildings past the treeline.
"Wait here!" She yelled, moving towards the door in an instant. Before either Isaac or Sinclaire could react she had flung the door open and slammed it shut behind her. Immediately, she was buffeted by what were surely hurricane force winds. She stepped down off the porch, her body met with stiff resistance due to aforementioned wind, and the rain that collected on the lenses of her mask obscured her vision. She pressed on however, determined to corral the two she had seen from the window- whoever they were. After some time she was by the treeline where she had seen the pair, and at least by the trees the wind was less harsh. "Hey!" She yelled, the storm still loud enough to force her voice to maximum volume even in the shelter of the woods. "I don't know what either of you are doing, but we need to get back to-"
Crack.
Before she could finish her sentence, a particularly mighty tree limb gave way and came crashing down to the floor. She was quick and reactive enough to get out of its way in time, but it still landed a mere few inches away from her which was enough to set her heart racing. The storm was more dangerous than even she anticipated, and she- and these two strangers- needed to find some form of shelter immediately if they had any hope of escaping unscathed.
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Post by нσωℓ on Aug 16, 2016 22:22:32 GMT -5
Riley couldn't ignore the small skip of a heartbeat when Arlo opted to call her Riles. It was a small thing, just the tiniest difference, but it made her so happy. Once given instructions she resumed a more serious demeanor, nodding in compliance with what Arlo told her. "Will do." She promised, holding carefully onto the flower crown as she made her way inside. Taking count wasn't easy as she noticed plenty of people were missing. Still, she did as she had been told and stayed inside as well as instructing everyone else to stay put as well. --- "Already on it, Arlo!" Viv called in response, heaving a few sandbags along. She started making a sort of barricade to keep the water from pooling around the house before she noticed Borya's growing tension. "Borya, c'mon there's no time to stand around and worry! Everything will be fine, I'm sure. We just gotta get everything together." Comforting wasn't her area of expertise, especially not with the range of emotions he was going through by the looks of it. Still, she couldn't just let him stand idly by; they needed all the muscle they could get prepping this place. ---- Shelley had been aiming to thank Rowan for the offer of fixing her foot up, but then she was being told they needed to go inside. Of course, someone had to carry her like she magically couldn't even walk at all. A missing foot was just a hinderance, nothing enough to keep her from walking. She couldn't complain with Jamal carrying her though, but that didn't stop her from worrying. As nice and gentlemanly as he was she wasn't sure he had the muscle to carry her. Shelley wasn't unaware that she weighed considerably more than most of the other women around. Especially seeing as the group comprised of a teenage girl who was practically thin as a stick, a half starved feral woman, a lean muscle tower that looked like she could bench her easy enough, and a rather thin pink haired one. Shelley wouldn't lie to herself, she knew she was heavier than most of them. While she wouldn't say she was fat she definitely wasn't thin. "I'm sure I can manage to walk in, I just need a little help with balance is all. No need for carrying me!" She laughed it off like a joke, slipping her prosthetic back on and pulling herself upright.
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Post by Deleted on Aug 16, 2016 22:57:19 GMT -5
Ash couldn't help but chuckle a little at Wilhelm's comment, amused by the fact that he was worried about being cheeky. He let himself forget about the melancholy that had been overwhelming him, if only for a moment. He glanced outside, although he couldn't make out much through the pelting rain. "A doozy indeed," he remarked, a rather worried expression crossing his face. He was trying to recover now, to shove his earlier insecurities out of his mind as best as he could. Right now, top priority was making sure Wilhelm and himself were safe. "Right," he said after a moment of collecting himself, "where do you suppose we should go? We need somewhere in the middle of the building with no windows, that's what I learned growing up anyways."
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Post by maple on Aug 17, 2016 15:43:52 GMT -5
[ hey got my phone back for a little bit ~ what have i missed? ]
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