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Post by 𝗁𝗈𝗇𝖾𝗒𝖻𝖺𝖽𝗀𝖾𝗋 on Dec 30, 2016 20:49:52 GMT -5
( IM SO DISAPPOINTED MY DANCING MARK LOOKS LIKE HES FREAKIN DOING YOGA ) { roll with it. embrace yoga mark. EMBRACE HIM! }
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Post by servalstrike on Dec 30, 2016 20:52:58 GMT -5
(he is doing yoga now. he's finding new ways to crack every bone in body because that's what he does. mark is my fav <3 )
(don't worry guys i already have my cult member in order. it's the leader)
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Post by mags on Dec 30, 2016 20:53:45 GMT -5
( also koi how the heck do u even draw a stick figure on relevé i'm struggling, u guys this is no longer dance mark this is zen mark )
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Post by koi on Dec 30, 2016 20:54:11 GMT -5
[ is it so bad that i really want to draw mark stretching? yes? then fight me ]
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Post by servalstrike on Dec 30, 2016 21:03:21 GMT -5
(DO IT KOI! draw my prince of stretches!)
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Post by 𝓑𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐫 ♥ on Dec 30, 2016 21:11:54 GMT -5
[ hey guys im sick i blame koi edit: o fuq ya'll are waiting up on me. well. ok. 400 word posts ok with ya'll cause that. that what u get. sor. ]
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Post by koi on Dec 30, 2016 21:23:57 GMT -5
[ did you get hell cold too bri because this sh*t sucks. its mean and unruly and takes half your possessions. i hope you survive it. ]
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Post by servalstrike on Dec 30, 2016 21:29:30 GMT -5
(oh no briar is sick now too! poor briar! i hope you feel better)
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Post by koi on Dec 30, 2016 21:50:09 GMT -5
[ i threw mark in w/ the other ballet drawings i was doing today ]
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Post by servalstrike on Dec 30, 2016 21:51:55 GMT -5
(oh god damn it MARK. i love this kid. look at him! he's got legs for days and an a*s that won't quit! <3 <3 and his hat is perf)
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Post by 𝗁𝗈𝗇𝖾𝗒𝖻𝖺𝖽𝗀𝖾𝗋 on Dec 30, 2016 21:52:40 GMT -5
{ oooh poor breer. i hope you feel better soon!
it kinda looks all the other dancers are working hard and practicing and mark is just lazing around like a bum }
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Post by mags on Dec 30, 2016 21:54:01 GMT -5
( I HAVE A HAT JUST LIKE THAT AHHAHA IM CRYING MARK IS SUCH A BABE.
awww bri <333 feel better bby!!! )
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Post by koi on Dec 30, 2016 21:56:41 GMT -5
[ probably because he is. real talk he is so STUPID FLEXIBLE that he probably goes into those sort of stretches and pretends he's working hard but he feels nothing. nothing at all. and he texts his dad about what he wants for dinner. ]
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Post by 𝗁𝗈𝗇𝖾𝗒𝖻𝖺𝖽𝗀𝖾𝗋 on Dec 30, 2016 22:04:30 GMT -5
{ mark's legs are gonna be the death of me, i swear it. the death of me and probably many, many zombies. }
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Post by servalstrike on Dec 30, 2016 22:06:11 GMT -5
(those damn calves. that boi is beyond beautiful. he may be a little b*tch but he's f*cking glorious)
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Post by mags on Dec 30, 2016 22:09:43 GMT -5
( preach it, serv. oh my LORd he is gorgeous. he will be the death of me. i would throw myself in front of a zombie to protect those dang calves. )
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Post by koi on Dec 30, 2016 22:12:18 GMT -5
[ i can see it now. mark lias grands battementing a walker head clean off. he was quite possibly the most flexible dancer at their school who wasn't under 10 years old when he used to go there with jasmin/carmen/The Squad. ]
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Post by 𝓑𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐫 ♥ on Dec 30, 2016 23:06:09 GMT -5
[ hey can you guys skip my responses i'm feeling like cr*p sorry ]
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Post by servalstrike on Dec 30, 2016 23:28:23 GMT -5
(u-u oh sweet briar, it's ok we'll try not to get too far ahead of you. just focus on feeling better)
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Post by servalstrike on Dec 30, 2016 23:49:38 GMT -5
Soraya: (Group 2) Death was literally knocking on their door and Soraya never thought she’d find reason to appreciate that they were “pull” doors and that the dead couldn’t read. Closing her eyes for a moment she wanted to block out all their noise. The ever-hungry moans and the slamming of their useless cold hands. Receding into herself she tried to come up with something close to a plan. Maybe blocking the doors with bookshelves or calling the library a lost cause and ditching it all together. But her mind was muddy with pain and her thoughts were a jigsaw puzzle she couldn’t fit into a picture.
She couldn’t see the walkers, not all of them at least, but just by the chorus of their moans she could tell that there were quite a few. Perhaps enough to consider themselves overrun. At the sound of Mark’s voice she cast her attention of him. “Perhaps. It would make sense since I invited them over for tea.” A bad joke at a bad time. Rubbing the bridge of her nose she tried to clear the clouds from her mind. “It could be those walkers. They seemed intent on killing me, must have come back to finish the job.” She hoped it wasn’t the same herd, because that would mean she had led them here and put everyone else in danger.
The thundering of the dead outside was a dinner bell to every other walker in the area. Soraya was afraid. She was not an idiot who thought herself more clever than the droves of the dead that now stalked the world. Numbers of even the most mindless creatures could overpower the intelligence of one. She wanted to bury that fear deep down but she was too exhausted. “Wherever those dead came from we shouldn’t give them time to break in here.” Upon trying to stand she hissed through her teeth as a searing pain split through her leg. Biting her lip she corralled the scream that swelled in her throat and fell back onto the couch. Sweat beaded on her forehead and she swiped it away with her arm. Exhaustion weighed on her like like an elephant tied to her back, her leg thrummed with pain a constant throb that echoed in her head. More than anything she wanted to stay and rest, if only for a few minutes before they fled the library for good. But it wouldn’t work. The dead would not rest until they tasted blood.
“A car,” she breathed. “Just like you said before, Hester, we need to get to a working car. But the dead are everywhere. They will not let us go so easily. We are chickens in a coop surrounded by foxes.” Rubbing her temples she closed her eyes.
Surely if they left this building they would leave her behind. Soraya was the weak link. Once she started slowing them down they would ditch her and not look back. She didn’t blame them. Not really. Soraya hadn’t exactly been a ray of sunshine towards them, it was part of the reason why she went out so early to catch breakfast. Just to try and make up for...who she was. These people though, they hadn’t known her long and it wouldn’t be hard for them to toss her to the side of the road like a bag of sand weighing them down. Mark in particular she was sure would have no qualms about throwing her outside as a distraction while everyone made a run for it.
Opening her eyes again she looked at Hester. “We need a distraction if we’re to get out of here alive. Do you have one of those…” Trying to think of the word she gestured with her hands and made noises like an explosion. “Boom eggs?” Soraya had lived in the United States for four years and yet this simple word slipped her mind. Reaching into her pack she pulled out her roll of bandages and sealed up her new stitches good and tight. “If you could throw one of your boom eggs outside it might distract them -if not kill enough of them- long enough for us to get away. Mark, could you cover Hester? Check out how many walkers there are. If there aren't that many then once Hester distracts them we'll try to make a run for it and find a working car. If there are too many then...Mark, you have strong legs try to get a working car and bring it around to the back of the library.” She showed no sign that she planned to stay behind, probably because she didn't want to get eaten alive. It was obvious how weak she was but she still acted like there was nothing wrong with her.
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Post by mags on Dec 31, 2016 0:02:29 GMT -5
( soraya, i love you. )
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Post by koi on Dec 31, 2016 0:08:04 GMT -5
[ "Perhaps. It would make sense since I invited them over for tea.” A bad joke at a bad time. no, soraya, a good joke for the BEST time. i can't believe i love her this much. ]
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Post by 𝗁𝗈𝗇𝖾𝗒𝖻𝖺𝖽𝗀𝖾𝗋 on Dec 31, 2016 0:22:57 GMT -5
{ guys. i don't actually know how old hester is. like. i made her nineteen, but she feels like she could be anywhere from seventeen to twenty-five. what even??? }
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Post by koi on Dec 31, 2016 0:25:46 GMT -5
[ yo. yo. make her age completely vague. she doesn't know it either. ]
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Post by 𝗁𝗈𝗇𝖾𝗒𝖻𝖺𝖽𝗀𝖾𝗋 on Dec 31, 2016 0:27:46 GMT -5
{ she doesn't know her birthday. no one does. people can only guess how old she is and no one guesses correctly }
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Post by mags on Dec 31, 2016 0:30:07 GMT -5
( i'm working on this reply for ingrid and i feel like i got way off topic but i'm just gonna roll with it )
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Post by servalstrike on Dec 31, 2016 0:31:30 GMT -5
(hester herself is an enigma. a glorious and perfect specimen of a jackrabbit turned into a person)
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Post by koi on Dec 31, 2016 0:35:36 GMT -5
[ hester and mark discuss their ages and dash graciously chimes in "didn't you guys go to the same school? congrats on graduating grade 6 by the way " ]
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Post by mags on Dec 31, 2016 0:41:05 GMT -5
ingrid wiesel — group one
(this is all over the place BUT here ya go, pals)
As Emilio began to describe his plan — as far as actually reaching Edgemont — Ingrid’s spirits slowly began to lift. Maybe this wasn’t a suicide mission, after all. Maybe they had some reasonable chance of survival. Perhaps the odds currently rested in their favor. Her smile which followed his words only consisted of the slight upturn of the corners of her lips, but her blue eyes significantly softened, her shoulders noticeably slackened, and her posture became less rigid. Honestly, Ingrid had not even noticed how tensely she had been holding herself as she listened to Abuela and Emilio until this very moment, and a sense of relief washed over her in waves. It was a blissful couple of seconds, and instances like these were few and far between. With this in mind, the young woman’s eyes fluttered closed for a mere instant as she allowed herself to soak in the sense of relaxation. Of safety. Even though she knew it would not last.
And she was right, for when Emilio opened his mouth again and began to speak about the specifics of their journey once they reached Edgemont itself, her mood instantly plummeted once more. She was back where she had been only a minute before now: on edge. Ready to fight. It was as if Ingrid were actually a cat with fur bristling on end and ready to spring into action, but trapped inside a human body. Her jaw tensed, as did her shoulders, and her heart rate began to steadily increase as Emilio’s vague explanation continued. This was scary. This was literally do or die. Kill or be killed. And one thing was for certain: Ingrid was not ready to die. She had barely even lived. Part of her remained hopeful and chose to think that something lay waiting for the end of them at the end of this hellish mission. She wanted to believe that someday, life could return to the way it once was. For once in her life, Ingrid yearned to be ordinary. Mundane. How idyllic did that sound, hm? Quite.
Shakily, Ingrid exhaled through her slightly-parted lips as Abuela told the group to gather their belongings together. She found herself to be a bit fidgety, which was completely out of the ordinary for Ingrid. Her lips pursed as she returned to where she had been “sleeping” only minutes earlier, and as she placed her hands against the stone floor, she wasn’t surprised to feel that the ground had already become cold again. Even though she had only been standing for what, a couple of minutes? Oh well. That didn’t matter. Typical Ingrid, allowing herself to be distracted by the little things. As she peered into her satchel, as if to take inventory of her belongings, an eyebrow slightly quirked as a smirk began to form across her face. Reaching into the bag, Ingrid removed the only thing that made her actually feel Strong when going into a dangerous situation. Which honestly, made no sense. Like. What kind of protection could a freaking butterknife actually give? Not much. But Ingrid had her own special logic. She would say things like, “Hey, I mean, it’s semi-pointy. I can totally rock this, guys,” or, “C’mon, you’re telling me that if I tried to stab someone with this it wouldn’t do anything? I mean, yeah, it probably wouldn’t, like, kill them right away. But if I kept at it, I could really hurt someone.” And of course, that last sentence would be followed by a smirk and a little wiggle of the eyebrows. Something Ingrid did best.
Of course, her true talent rested in archery. So her bow and arrows were always handy. But when she needed to punch someone, having her other little “useless” tool gave Ingrid an odd sense of empowerment. It made no freaking sense. But honestly, does Ingrid ever make sense? Uh, nope. So she shoved the butterknife into her boot, between the actual boot and her sock. Easy access. Perfect.
She then stood, quickly braiding her thick, dark hair, before thrusting her satchel over one shoulder, her quiver of arrows over the other, and holding her bow in her hand. She then made her way back over to Kameko, since Emilio and Abuela still stood conversing in Spanish, and before she began to speak, she cleared her throat lightly.
”That was a good idea you had,” she began, her voice softer than it normally was. She offered Kameko a kind smile before continuing. ”About the car, I mean. It’ll really save us, I think, if we can make it work.”
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Post by koi on Dec 31, 2016 1:07:57 GMT -5
[ will reply for kameko soon!
hon, are you replying for hester first? ]
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