|
Post by servalstrike on Dec 31, 2016 16:39:44 GMT -5
(doing pretty good. gonna make some cookies and then eat as many of them as i can)
|
|
|
Post by koi on Dec 31, 2016 17:21:32 GMT -5
[ before i went into the studio i was writing out some of this post and referred to mark and hester as the meme dream team and...i deserve death ]
|
|
|
Post by 𝗁𝗈𝗇𝖾𝗒𝖻𝖺𝖽𝗀𝖾𝗋 on Dec 31, 2016 17:29:31 GMT -5
{ yes. yes you do. consider yourself banned from not only this rp, but the internet in its entirety. go live in the wilderness for a couple of years and think about what you've done! }
|
|
|
Post by mags on Dec 31, 2016 17:33:24 GMT -5
( i'm glad u guys are doing well!! i'm super sleepy. i need a nap. but instead i'm about to go for a run in the rain (':
HA. THE MEME DREAM TEAM. IM DEAD. GONE. BUH BYE. )
|
|
|
Post by servalstrike on Dec 31, 2016 17:35:04 GMT -5
(Koi. your execution is tomorrow morning. you scoundrel you even let you see the light of day?)
|
|
|
Post by 𝓑𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐫 ♥ on Dec 31, 2016 17:45:14 GMT -5
(Hello friends I am still sick so my New Years is probably drinking alone under a pile of blankets. So sad. That being said I will be around all night.)
|
|
|
Post by koi on Dec 31, 2016 17:47:08 GMT -5
[ love you guys too! i'm pleasantly surprised imma be able to get a reply in today actually ]
|
|
|
Post by servalstrike on Dec 31, 2016 17:48:40 GMT -5
(oh shoot you guys! i wish i could rush you since we leave in an hour and won't even be able to chat for hours ;-; )
|
|
|
Post by mags on Dec 31, 2016 17:51:20 GMT -5
( are you feeling any better bri?? </3 )
|
|
|
Post by 𝗁𝗈𝗇𝖾𝗒𝖻𝖺𝖽𝗀𝖾𝗋 on Dec 31, 2016 17:54:36 GMT -5
{ on the bright side we will be with our best friend in the whole wide world. so those hours will go by quickly. hoping he isn't hanging out with his other friends and ignoring us entirely....
oh briar! i'm sorry you're still sick! }
|
|
|
Post by 𝓑𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐫 ♥ on Dec 31, 2016 17:55:33 GMT -5
(a lil? maybe. except now I'm nauseous so. yeah. 😂)
|
|
|
Post by servalstrike on Dec 31, 2016 17:56:39 GMT -5
(whatever there will be food
oh no briar! you poor dear!)
|
|
|
Post by mags on Dec 31, 2016 17:59:57 GMT -5
( eat some good food, guys. have fun w ur best bud!! <3
AW bri. poor dear!!! curl up in bed & watch netflix. eat some soup!! put on some fuzzy socks. i'm sending good vibes ur way!! hopefully you feel better soon!! <33 )
|
|
|
Post by koi on Dec 31, 2016 18:10:50 GMT -5
[ can't believe i got u sick briar. told you we shouldn't have made out. take some gravol and go to sleep bab.
i hope tonight goes well hon and serv! ]
|
|
|
Post by 𝗁𝗈𝗇𝖾𝗒𝖻𝖺𝖽𝗀𝖾𝗋 on Dec 31, 2016 18:33:44 GMT -5
{ every time you mention gravol i think of gravel. as in, you're suggesting that briar eat some rocks off the road and then go to bed... gets me every time }
|
|
|
Post by koi on Dec 31, 2016 18:37:21 GMT -5
[.....i would probably do that tho. honestly. honestly ]
|
|
|
Post by 𝗁𝗈𝗇𝖾𝗒𝖻𝖺𝖽𝗀𝖾𝗋 on Dec 31, 2016 18:42:01 GMT -5
{ DO. NOT. you're better than eating rocks and taking a nap koi. you're better than that! }
|
|
|
Post by mags on Dec 31, 2016 18:44:47 GMT -5
( hey i would eat rocks if it would make my nausea go away :/ )
|
|
|
Post by koi on Dec 31, 2016 18:44:57 GMT -5
[ i wanna eat poprocks and take a nap. i'd be up for that. ]
|
|
|
Post by servalstrike on Dec 31, 2016 18:48:15 GMT -5
(alright guys we have to go now! we love you and we'll see you soon! have fun babies!)
|
|
|
Post by mags on Dec 31, 2016 18:53:52 GMT -5
( pop rocks are good. id be down for that too.
have fun guys!!! )
|
|
|
Post by koi on Dec 31, 2016 18:56:52 GMT -5
[ i bet mark is the type of person that would put 5 packets of them in his mouth at once and then make exhilarated noises while they popped
have fun!! there should be a reply for ya'll when you get back! ]
|
|
|
Post by mags on Dec 31, 2016 19:01:18 GMT -5
( dude i can see that. mark is such a CUTIE ugh as is kameko. speaking of which, i need to reply. i'll do that soon (': once my dang stomach calms down )
|
|
|
Post by koi on Dec 31, 2016 19:53:09 GMT -5
mark lias group 2, not-in-the-library-anymore, i definitely just gave mark my brother's car
Mark stares, blankly, eyebrows high on his face, manages to get out the words, “Wait, are cherry bombs an actual thing?” lips parting, spreading into a wide grin before, well. They’re off. Hester is a man (not) with a plan (true).
Mark’s dad always told him to never run with that damn machete, because he was fond of ripping up and down the trails like a border collie all but galloping (his hair as dark and shaggy as one, at least), his dad’s work gloves too big for his hands, grabbing stray fern leaves (big and outreaching, like arms), and murdering them, making fast work of cleaning the trails (he hated raking them, left that to his dad, liked the choppy-choppy part, cutting down foliage in the way, tree limbs posing a danger growing smack dab in the middle of the path). But before he can share this piece of learnt wisdom, Hester grabs him and they take off together, buzzing excitedly, jittering jumping jelly-beans, all but singing “We’re off to see the Wizard!”, ready to f*ck sh*t up, Thing 1 (With Bombs) and Thing 2 (With Bomb-Ass Calves), The Meme Dream Team. Mark’s eyes are wide and his hair pushed off his forehead with a hand threaded through it, when they first go through that back door, ready 2 fite, but there aren’t any walkers around, and he turns to Hester, a question on his lips (or, really, a half-assed plan of action, as he surveys the cars in his view) but she is already zipping away.
Gone. Goodbye.
She has this...almost galloping sort of gait and leaves Mark standing there in her wake, and he starts laughing (but when is he not laughing?), praying, all at once, for her fast return. Hester is so fast he has no idea why walkers should be a threat to her. She looks like she could outrun an ash cloud outta an active volcano, a tsunami. Something explodes, with a loud snap, reminiscent of a gunshot to the point where for a moment he wonders if Hester put some of those walkers down, but she zips back around the corner, easily, the dead walking never bothered her anyways, and Mark sticks his tongue out at her, slaps a hand against her shoulder when she returns to his side, and she looks almost-proud of herself, high off life, my mans.
“Sick,” he says, meaning it with all his being, as much as you can mean the word sick without being bent over a bucket at 7 in the morning with your dad calling you an idiot in your ear. He looks out at the road. There aren’t many options, out here, a couple of cars parked at the side of the road, starts a steady jog along to them, knife in hand. “Yo, so like, we should try and go for something that didn’t have someone die in it. You know. The fresh stench of death on a weekend doesn’t pair well with carsickness—is that a Pathfinder?”
(“Look, Carm, I’m an independent young woman now,” Mark calls out when he rolls up to the academy parking lot with his hat on backwards, a Britney song playing, ready to f*cking party, and Carmen throws his water bottle into the open car window, stone faced, as Mark splutters and tries to catch it, lets it land on his lap.
“No way,” Carmen says, then, eyes widening. “Seriously. You got a car before me?” and walks around the front of it, all but daring Mark to accelerate and hit him, and opens the passenger door, seats himself in it like he belongs there, dropping his bag to the floor, and Mark just grins, sticks his tongue out at him, and Carmen shoves his arm, before telling him to get them the hell out of the parking lot and “Dude, can this thing go off-roading?” and hell yes it can.)
There’s a silver 2002 Nissan Pathfinder just, at the side of the road ahead of them like seeing a mirage of water in the middle of a desert or a mirage of dessert in the middle of dinner. Mark grew up in one and then had it given to him when he was seventeen and man, he basically lived in there, named it Pathy (he never said he was creative), loved it like his own child until he up and left a few years back to travel all around, dancing for smaller companies, but Mark just. He misses it. He misses it bad. He was the only one in their ballet class, way back when, who had a car. Between shows he would pile into it along with a few others, Carmen always calling shotgun, Anton, Jasmin tagging along because he was hungry and not so much because he actually liked Mark, Gio between them, Anya in the trunk (what a gal), overfilling it to the brim, and go get food from the sh*tty convenience store up the block, because no one wanted to walk in the snow. He misses those days.
“Hey, Hes, I’mma go check that one out. It might be wise to try and get two cars, so then if one breaks we can just pile into the other. And we could send someone to scout ahead that way. Wanna see if you can find another?” he asks, sends a mock salute with his free, unknived hand, and runs ahead. A walker turns ‘round the corner as he approaches his new baby (the car. he loves it already), while Mark is humming the lyrics of Cherry Bomb under his breath. The walker is taller than Mark so he lifts a leg to kick it down, right in the chest (he’s always had a good kick, with a nice force, one of his better strengths), and leans over it to hook the end of the machete into its temple as its arms reach out to him, as Mark tries to end things fast, flinching at the outstretched arms around him, pulling away as far as possible, leaning on its partially open chest, “Hello daddy, hello mom, I’m your--ew.” Blood floods out of the wound once he’s pulled his machete out, cringing at the way it seeps, dark and gelatinous, its movements stilling, “...cherry bomb.”
He shakes the blood off his machete, decidedly icked out, as he stands up, rolling his shoulder, surveys over top of the cars around him to make sure there aren’t any more creepin’ around for a bite o’ dat, and he leans down to look into the interior of the car.
It’s dusty. Of course it is, he has no idea how long it’s been there. But, as he looks from window to window, for sign of not life but of death, he starts grinning, bites his bottom lip down with his bracketed front teeth, “Hello, world, I’m your wild girl…” and he turns around, finds Hester down the road, and waves at her, feels larger than life.
(For plots sakes, I’m going to pretend there were, conveniently, keys inside, and conveniently enough gas that he finds it smart to actually take this said car, gets it started up. It smells like a thrift store and vanilla flavoured vape juice, for reference, so more like popcorn than actual vanilla, and it has 2 Nickelback CDs inside and the rest is Michael Jackson.)
|
|
|
Post by 𝓑𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐫 ♥ on Dec 31, 2016 20:00:50 GMT -5
(ah ok I have so much to catch up on let me try and write a response b4 I throw up)
|
|
|
Post by 𝗁𝗈𝗇𝖾𝗒𝖻𝖺𝖽𝗀𝖾𝗋 on Jan 1, 2017 1:24:11 GMT -5
{ i'm home! our friend ditched us two hours in so we were stuck at their house, just their parents and our parents and a whole lot of boring. how was your night? }
|
|
|
Post by mags on Jan 1, 2017 1:32:51 GMT -5
( aw no!! i'm sorry, hon </3 was there at least good food?? )
|
|
|
Post by 𝗁𝗈𝗇𝖾𝗒𝖻𝖺𝖽𝗀𝖾𝗋 on Jan 1, 2017 1:37:24 GMT -5
{ there was excellent food because you can always count on my friend's mom to make the best treats >w< }
|
|
|
Post by mags on Jan 1, 2017 1:38:16 GMT -5
( aw YAY well at least there's that! what kind of stuff did u guys eat?? )
|
|
|
Post by servalstrike on Jan 1, 2017 1:48:07 GMT -5
(well i had pita bread with lamb and some kind of cucumber spread. it was delish. there were also dips and chips and lots of cheeses. but my favorite was the sparkling grape juice. I ADORE sparkling grape juice)
|
|