ᴛʜɪs ɪs ᴏᴜʀ ʟᴀsᴛ ʀᴇsᴏʀᴛ

[Undead Superstar]

As the world was snatched away from him courtesy of a blow to the back of the head, Eddie found himself in a world of darkness. All around him, the voices of his inner demons whispered about, forming a loud buzzing that threatened to shred up the last of his sanity. He did his best to block it out but they persisted. He couldn't make out anything they said but he had a good idea. Things about how he was a monster, that he would only bring ruin to his group and that his destiny was to be alone in the wastes forever. Time became nothing amongst the black and the voices from deep in the recesses of his mind. He floated through the black for the longest time before he heard a voice that cut through the maddening darkness in his own skull.

“Get up, Sleeping Beauty,” a female voice said. “Get up. Don't listen to the black. Don't let it get too into your head. Wake up.”

Eddie's eyes flickered open and he found himself sitting on a sofa. He tried to focus but something felt off about the world. It felt strange and foreign to him. It could be that his hunger was starting to get to him. Or it was the blow to the head. Or both. He let out a grumble and tired to reach up to clutch at his sore noggin but found that his hands were tied behind his back. He struggled with the restraints a moment before trying to think about what had happened before the darkness. Unfortunately, his brain was not in a cooperative mood. He struggled another moment before starting to rise.

He managed to get to his feet and took a single step before falling forward onto his face. A loud groan passed him as the world blinked away for a moment. As everything vanished, he found himself sitting in Jamestown again, his eyes locked on the angelic features of his fiance. He could feel her arms around him. He remembered the moment she told him she was pregnant. The world slowly came back into view and he managed to rolled his head so that his face wasn't pressed against the floor. With a grunt, he managed to exert what little strength he had to roll to his side.

As he got to his side and looked around as best he could, his eyes landed on something that made the full brunt of reality crash upon him again. Emilia's rapier. It was tucked into Derek's things. As he stared at it, he remembered everything. Lore. The stream. The fact that he was alone. Everything piled up in his mind causing fresh tears to appear in his eyes. If Emilia could see him now, he knew she would be disappointed. He could almost feel her glare from the other side at how far he had fallen. He was nothing but a rabid madman. He closed his eyes and let out a deep breath.

“I'm sorry I disappointed you,” he said, as his eyes opened and locked on the weapon again. “I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have inflicted myself on you. Shouldn't have brought Vipress to you. I'm sorry that I've reverted to nothing but madness. But I found them, Em. I found them and they're ok. You can rest easy now, sweetheart. Just rest in peace. I found them. I was late but I found them.”

The tears built up in his eyes and he just laid his head against the floor and cried softly as a new wave of mourning hit him. His grief washed over him like a wave and he found himself praying to heavens that he questioned the existence of that Emilia could rest in peace. That both her and their unborn child would be happy in the next life, if one existed. And as his sorrow increased, he found himself feeling more alone than ever, despite the fact he'd found his group. His home.

[Rose Scented]

Oooooh, Taaaaaaaabby. A sing-song voice carried to her from the left hand side of the porch, and Tabitha glanced that way with a roll of her eyes and a crinkle of her nose. Diego wasn't her favorite person on the farm and she honestly had no trouble displaying her disdain for him with open, unveiled looks of disgust and contempt. Other than being a general annoyance, a fly she truly wished she could slap down, grind into the dirt and ignore, Tabitha found him to be unnecessarily crude and disgustingly vain. Especially for someone who had lost their power and now wandered through existence with nothing but an obsession with "the one that got away". Tabitha wasn't entirely informed of the situation that had taken place at the stadium, nor did she know that Jamestown had ever been a place, but she had heard the knights speaking of a 'blonde b***h' that Diego had claimed, promising death to anyone that were to get in his way. Caleb didn't confide in her often, but it was plain to see that he was bothered by Diego, and perhaps even feared him a little. Losing his kingdom was the only thing Caleb feared, and though he didn't openly display his madness to her, Tabitha knew that it would send him over the edge were another to lay claim to what was his.

Grimacing as Diego pranced around her and came to a stop behind her, Tabitha tensed when his large hands found her shoulders and began to work into the tangle of knots that her muscles had long since grown accustomed to. She'd never cop to it, nor did her expression let it be known, but the brief massage felt rather... nice. Diego's words and the sudden lick to her cheek brought up a disgusted gag from the back of her throat, and Tabitha rolled her shoulders and sharply pivoted away from him, scrubbing at her cheek with her jacket sleeve. "Or, we could skip all that bullshit and just ********," he taunted, and Tabitha gave him an even stare in response. "Ooo, I know," she said after a moment of annoyed silence, "and here's an idea, we could not." That which started in a tone of sarcastic enthusiasm quickly fell flat and sour as she took another step back from him and leaned her hips into the balustrade that lined the porch, direct off of a picturesque post card that they might have found on a wire rack in a gas station. The paint was faded and flaking, but overall Caleb had kept the farmhouse in mint condition, and Tabitha was well aware of the advantages to living in a group as well off as Caleb’s crew, even if the leader was one wrong turn away from pure, all American psychopath.

Diego, un-phased by her rejection as it wasn’t the first and, more than likely, not the last, continued on to ask how she was with a strange note of genuine curiosity in his voice. Considering momentarily that he was ill, or merely messing with her in a fashion that was just as tiring if not slightly different than usual, Tabitha sneered mildly when he brought up her current position in the hierarchy and dismissed what she had almost thought was a sincere interest. “Why, y’jealous?” she muttered, not bothering with sarcasm or annoyance, merely volleying a response back that dropped heavily from her tongue and fell flat. “Mmn, oh hey, wasn’t Caleb’s old bottom b***h one of yours?” The comment was meant as a jab to his ego, boldly questioning his ability to keep loyalties, and in the subtext poking fun at his general leadership skills. Before he could answer Caleb joined them from where he’d been leaning against the barn, and Tabitha lifted her eyebrows at Diego, suggesting that Caleb’s presence and the way he spoke only punctuated her insinuations.

Caleb’s hand found her shoulder and gently squeezed, and Tabitha moved her gaze to him and offered a muted smile. She wasn’t fooled by his seemingly kind gestures or gentle musings, but she appreciated them and would never do anything to blatantly disrespect him. “You sleep good last night? I missed you,” he said, and though his tone was light and she fully believed the surface-deep words he spoke, Tabitha felt a twinge of regret in the pit of her stomach. She wasn’t purposefully turning him away, and it seemed a great deal to ask for during the ********] zombie apocalypse, but she hated the idea of never being fully appreciated for all she had to offer because he couldn't let go of the past. On the other hand, she didn't blame him, either, as there were some things that she would never let go of, as made evident by the Ace of Spades tucked into her pocket. "Fine," she assured him, reaching out to lightly touch his arm as a sign of respect and loyalty, though the contact was brief and she dropped her arm back to her side a moment later. "I had a headache." It was an excuse, and not a very sound one in the long run.

When Caleb's exceedingly tall brute of a friend stepped outside as well Tabitha remained silent and listened with little interest as they talked. There very rarely was anything she requested when they went out on their raids, and they were always minimal at best. Her lover occasionally brought her small gifts, such as a deck of cards when he’d seen the Ace of Spades sticking out of her a** pocket, but Tabitha had the feeling it was more of a token to keep her loyalties aligned than it was an actual gesture of appreciation and kindness. In any case, she was grateful enough to pull off a convincing word or act of gratitude that seemed to, at the very best, keep the beast at bay. After Bohannon left and Caleb returned his attention to Diego, Tabitha eased out from beneath the palm on her shoulder and stepped down onto the top step of the porch. “Kendrick asked me to help out in the med tent,” she informed her King. “I’ll see you later tonight,” and for the first time in a few days she would join him in his castle, and do her best to put her reservations behind her.

It didn’t bode well to rock the boat, especially when your co-captain happened to be a sea monster disguised by forced sanity.

“Diego,” she blandly stated in farewell, though she didn’t bother to give him a second glance before heading in the direction of the medical tent where Kendrick wanted to teach her how to properly stitch up a wound.


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With: No one special. Where: Headed towards the medical tent. Feeling: Annoyed. Wearing: So 2013

[caffeinektn]

The world was dark, but Gemma got the sense that she was being moved. She wasn't sure by who, perhaps it was Zak. But she also could not figure out why she was being moved. She could remember Jericho in the woods along with Corban and Lori, then hearing the sounds of shouting. She had run back... Was she injured? Had someone gotten the better of her?

A soft groan escaped her lips. She didn't feel hurt, not at all. The sun disappeared off her face, the world darkening on the outside of her eyelids. Her brows furrowed slightly and she stirred in the arms of whoever was carrying her. She could hear footfalls on wood, which probably meant she was being taken back to the cabin. Sure enough a moment later she was laid on one of the little cots inside the cabin. Her eyes opened.

Sharky.

The scene at the stream came flooding back and Gemma sat up slightly, staring up at the man she had thought was dead and gone. She had no idea how long she had been out, but she remembered seeing him now, standing there with Eddie and Derek and Lore. In the darkened interior of the cabin Gemma could still make out his face, his eyes. She reached for him, hesitating as if she thought he might not truly be real, and found him solid. "I thought I'd lost you," she murmured, still grasping for the how. How on earth did he manage to escape? How had he found them? But quickly enough she discovered it did not matter. He was alive. She left the cot and flew into his arms.

Vaguely she knew she should greet the others. She was elated that they had survived as well, but she could not bring herself to let him go, not for a moment. Gemma shifted in his arms and kissed him hard, pouring all of her emotions into that one single kiss. Her despair at losing him, everything they had been through as a couple and as a broader group, the shock at seeing him standing there by the stream. She was aware of the tears that escaped her, but she did not care. She had him back. The group seemed to be trickling in and Corban and Lori were alive, Jericho was alive, and Sharky was here in her arms.

Finally, she forced herself to pull away, but her eyes never left the familiar figure. "What happened? I thought you were... that you had..." Her voice faltered, unable to even say the horrible truth she had been living with since they left the prison, even now that it was no longer truth. She had a lot of questions and now that she'd gotten that kiss out of the way she really did want to greet the others. Still, she sat back on the cot and watched him with a little smile on her lips. A few more moments with Sharky and then she would gladly greet the others.

[Dervadoo]

Diego stood by, watching Tabby with an amused grin as she rubbed the traces of his tongue from off her cheek with the sleeve of her jacket. Puffing on his little attempt at a rolled cigarette, a scarred brow arched upwards at Tabby's little jibe about Star having once ran with his own crew. He was about to comment that some loyalties wouldn't really last when your people think you're dead, but Caleb's sudden arrival interrupted the raider, who proceeded to glare at the pretender.

"If I wanted to look like a sophisticated ponce," Diego responded, attempting a half-assed British accent on the whimsical little title he subtley gave Caleb, "Then yeah. I'd smoke one of those. But then again... I wouldn't stick anything remotely shaped like a d**k into my mouth, either way." He said with a chuckle and crude scratch of his balls. Before Diego could stoke the flames any more than he probably already had, Caleb's right hand man, Bohannon, appeared. "Howya doin, Thyroid Gland?" Diego asked the much larger individual rocking the plastic sheep mask. The ginger giant merely glanced in Diego's direction before stepping away to do what Caleb ordered, the smaller raider's attention returning to Tabby as she departed, his gaze finally settling on the man in charge once more. He was going to ignore Caleb's remarks on whether Diego found his little friends or not. What Diego did, and planned on doing, to Lore and Flick, were none of this cracker's business. But deep down, deep down, Diego hoped Caleb, or his men, would get in his way. It'd be a few less thorns in his side before he could finally give blondie all of his full and undivided attention once again.

"The types of narcotics I want are in rare supply, jefe. Seeing as there's nobody around who can make a proper batch of meth without blowing their assholes to smithereens. So, nah. Don't need anything." Diego sneered, running a rough hand through his shortly cropped hair as he stared Caleb down. "I'm surprised you're not asking me to go with you guys, though..." The latino stated, pushing himself away from the side of the house before slowly circling around Caleb, his chocolate brown eyes never once leaving the other man's face. "You know that old saying, right?... When the cat's away, the rats will play... Or some s**t like that."

The muscular raider let his words sink in for moment as he continued circling the man who ran the farm, before finally stopping to stand directly in front of the king. "May I be excused, your majesticness?" Diego asked, with a mocking bow and twirl of his hand, a feeble attempt at looking elegant. "Or was there something else you needed from little ol' me?"

[Undead Superstar]

Caleb looked to Diego for a moment and thought about cracking him in the skull but thought better of it and shook his head. “Nah, you can go. And I haven't decided whose going on the raid yet. I know that I'm going, Bohannon is and most likely Juliet. Other than that I'm clueless.” He gave Diego a slight nod and walked off. He made his way to the garage, checked on Bohannon and then started to make another pass through his kingdom to inspect the crops and the small amount of livestock that they had. He stopped out behind the farmhouse and looked at the sprawling mess of tents, bedrolls, firepits, hammocks and folding chairs. It had only been a couple of years but Caleb was sure that there was nothing better. His kingdom was perfect.

After looking out at the perfection he had created, he started back to the farmhouse. He stopped by what had once been the houses dining room but was now turned into a make-shift war room. A couple knights joined him and started offering their advice of where to go, what to look out for, where there was sure to be stashes. It was mildly helpful at first but after a while it just became an annoyance. When the nuisances reached the apex of their unhelpfulness, Caleb slammed his hands on the table causing everyone to resume what they were doing before. The large man stared at the table full of lists and maps and tried to put together a plan in his mind.

Instead all he could think of was how much easier this had been when Star was around. He could have his release and have a clear mind when he made plans. He had a bit of sanity and that tiny amount of humanity went a long way. But she was gone. He gripped the table and his thoughts shifted to the memories of killing her killer. After a minute of picturing his beaten and bloody face, it shifted to the terrified look of the man who had killed his original queen. He slammed his hands on the table again and stormed off. He moved through the house to the room where his chief enforcer slept.

“Yo, Capulet,” he said, having fun with her name as he knocked on the door. “You up yet?” He leaned on the doorframe and let out a deep breath as he tried to hold back waves of violent images that surged into his mind. He remembered the last enforcer and how they had met a rather grisly end just on the other side of that door. A twisted smile played on his lips as he remember the crunch of his skull, the smell of the blood as it washed across the floor. He straightened up and took a couple deep breaths to try and keep himself composed and maintaining at least some facade of sanity. After a moment, he knocked again. “Hey, we got a raid to plan so get yourself done up to your satisfaction and meet me in the War Room.” He let out a grunt and strolled back to the war room where he once again stared at his maps.

[wolark]

When the prison fell and everything erupted into chaos, everyone got scattered. Sharky was torn from his sleep when it happened, to shouts and yells. It was like a repeat of Jamestown, except... Worse. They were already broken. Weak. The sudden influx of ******** into such a confined space was the breaking point, and Sharky watched so many people he'd come to know so well die. All over again. However, at least this time he wasn't passed out in a pool of his own blood with a hole in his side. The wound was nothing more than a tender scar, a reminder of the horrors Diego and his crew inflicted. Sharky knew the compound well, after all he had been serving the first few years of his life sentence there when the world went to hell. Finding his way out of the compound was simple for him, but trying to heard the panicked survivors? Not so much. In the end, Sharky was only able to save himself. The guilt over never finding Gemma weighed heavy on his shoulders, and was the reason he lingered around there for a while before returning to the ruins of Jamestown and ultimately running into Flick.

After all that, after all the thoughts of guilt that threatened to swallow him whole, she was right there in his arms. The words spoken by Lore were only half heard, but as he was assisted to standing and helped to carry Gemma, he began to slowly come back to his senses. She was alive. And so were some of the others. A lot hadn't made it, but it thrilled Sharky nonetheless to see Lore, Derek, hell. Even Eddie and they didn't get along. Sharky gave a nod to Zak as he began to follow the others toward the cabin. It was strange... Sharky never really thought he'd wind up in a situation like that. Never mind the whole 'Zombie Apocalypse' thing, but the relationship part. Back at Jamestown, everyone had their rumors of Sharky being the town 'man whore', and they weren't wrong. He just didn't like commitment. But there was something about this thin, yet tough blonde he held in his arms. Something about that icy facade she tried to pull over everyone, and yet Sharky found a way through. That day, retrieving that part... Sharky found a piece of Gemma that few other knew. And she the the same for him. Now, there he was madly in love in the middle of a zombie apocalypse, holding the woman he was starting to think had perished. Crazy was a thought that entered his mind, but he thought to himself, 'Who isn't to live through this s**t.'

They neared the cabin, and Sharky could see her beginning to slowly stir. Inside, he placed her down on the nearest cot where her eyes started to open. His bright gray eyes found hers, and a grin spread across his tired face. "I thought I'd lost you," She spoke, her voice a welcomed song to his ears. As she lept up to embrace him, he responded in a chuckle, "Didn't ya know? You can't kill me." Their lips met in a single euphoric moment, and he held on to her tightly. Everything that happened still burned in the back of his mind, but right then... At that moment, he didn't care. He let it all go and was simply happy. It was a rare emotion, and Sharky embraced it every chance he got. "What happened? I thought you were... that you had..." She spoke after breaking the kiss and leaning back to look at him again, as if she were still trying to convince herself he was real.

"I knew that place like the back of my hand after, yanno... I tried to get the others out, but..." The guilt returned and his gaze dropped down a moment before returning to hers. "I tried to find you, but you know my tracking skills are s**t. If I hadn't run into Flick again, I probably would have been ******** chow." He spoke. For as many issues the two brothers had, Sharky was still grateful Flick had found him. "Were you with-" Sharky began, but was interrupted when he heard Eddie not but a few feet away, talking to no one in particular. Eddie had always been... Peculiar, and something about that plus the fact he knew an addict when he saw one made him distrust Eddie. But right then... In his obviously distressed state, Sharky couldn't help but feel sorry for him. And then it dawned on him. He was speaking to Emilia, who wasn't there. "Just rest in peace." The words felt like a physical weight in Sharky's chest. She hadn't made it. One of his closest friends in Jamestown, the first person he'd met at the start of it all... She was dead. He glanced back to Gemma, giving her a kiss that lingered a moment before looking back to Eddie. "Hey... It's not your fault, man." He spoke, unsure of what exactly to say. He was so bad at comforting people.

[Iris Lunaria]

“Umph” Came a lame and belated response to the knock at the door. She was still half way asleep, dreaming of other things besides their current reality, when she felt the elbow in her side. “Damn it.” She whispered, lifting her head and finding the elbow belonging to a familiar blonde. “Get up.” She whispered again. The long haired beauty jumped and weary eyes searched the room. “Are we under attack?!” Juliet laughed and shook her head. “No, but ya gotta go.” Juliet stated, making a point as her mind registered the Capulet joke. “HA HA!” She chimed out in her loving and playful tone while removing the covers off of her nude form. The woman next to her had been one of Diego’s lovers. Normally, Juliet hated sloppy seconds but depriving Diego of one of his lovers was retribution for the way he treated the Captain. She loathed Diego. She found him to be a disrespectful turd. Useless more so than anything.

“Get out of my bed.” Juliet motioned, standing up and stretching as she continued to listen to the Captain speak about making herself presentable and then heading to the war room. “Aye Aye, my Captain.” She yelled back while glancing around. Covers and clothing laced the floor at this point and, as the two shared in the oddity of the moment, gathering their own clothing, they managed to bump heads. “Ya gotta go, love.” She motioned, handing the other woman a wrinkled men’s dress shirt. No doubt it was Diego’s at some point. Juliet turned around and headed towards a folded pile of clothes. A black cocktail dress came into view as she unfolded the article. A nice and thin strapless one that cut off right above the knees.

Juliet was many things but a disgrace to the fashion community she was not. It was the only thing she refused to get rid of. She could do without turkey burgers, avocados, and even sex (for a short time) but she would never be caught out of fashion. Hell, she still made unscheduled trips to the mall to replace her heels when they broke. Speaking of heels…

Juliet slipped on a pair of her thin framed heels, strapped those bad boys in, and turned just in time to see the half way dressed blonde leaving her room. It was about time. Heading over towards a broken glass shard, or her mirror, Juliet fluffed up her curls and secured the glass piece as she put on makeup. Yes, she even wore makeup. Giving her red painted lips a smack she headed back towards the bedroom door, grabbing her hockey stick on her way. The door closed behind her before she could turn around and confirm it, hearing the slight click the door knob gave away.

“I love my Captain!” She stated, pressing into the war room and moving the lean up against the wall. She had an odd closeness to the man. They were friends, well what she would consider friends, and they worked well together. Never had he tried to mess with her, which she appreciated beyond words, and he allowed her unscheduled shopping trips as long as she did her job. An enforcer. She didn’t look like it but a messed up part of her truly enjoyed violence. The torture behind some of it. In her own way, she was crazy. Which is probably why they got along so well.

[Dervadoo]

Once in the woods, Derek leaned against a nearby tree, his mind currently on his blonde lover. Aria. The woman he'd randomly run into on a scavenging mission back when Jamestown was still intact. The two had holed up together in a hotel room when a herd of the undead had closed in on their positions after Derek had rescued her from a few of the biters. With a deep sigh, Derek covered his mouth as his grey eyes veered upwards to stare at the sky. He remembered the three days the two spent in that hotel room, waiting for the undead to find something else to grab their attention... And for whatever reason, most likely physical attraction between the two, Derek and Aria had spent those three days tangled in each other's limbs. Life's short after all, isn't it? With a small chuckle, the tattooed scavenger recalled the day Aria had appeared at the gates of Jamestown. Though bewildered by her sudden arrival, Derek was happy to see her. He had never expected to run into the woman ever again, but there she was.

Digging his hands into his pockets, Derek began to think of the time that had elapsed in Jamestown. How they grew closer, eventually becoming a couple. Their shared trials and sufferings at Diego's and Mina's hands. Aria's drug addiction to the substance Diego had injected in her, and the nightmare's Derek had every night of the torture he endured from Mina. How he and Aria relied on one another to get through their moments of need. With another sigh, Derek pushed himself away from the tree he leaned against, prepared to venture further into the woods to continue his patrol, until Jax's voice reached his ears.

Turning on the heels of his tennis shoes, the scavenger stared at Jax with a curious expression. The larger man was headed towards him, a hand outstretched with a cigarette held between two fingers. Though Derek didn't typically smoke anything aside from marijuana, he took the offering from the ex-raider before pulling a small bic lighter from his pants pocket. "Thanks, man." Derek managed to say through the cancer stick stuck between his lips as he lit the tip. "Glad to see you're alive." The leaner of the two men stated, a billow of smoke blowing from out of his mouth, followed by a small cough. Yep. Definitely still not used to smoking cigarettes. With a slight shrug, Derek took another drag, this time being a little easier as his throat slowly became accustomed to the acrid smoke.

After a short moment of silence between the two, who had begun walking through the trees, Derek glanced sideways at Jax.

If someone were to have told Derek he'd eventually become allies with a raider, Derek would have punched that person in the throat, but here he was now, conversing with an ex-raider. "You and Aria were friends, right?" Derek asked, not quite sure where this line of questioning was going to go, but at least it broke the somewhat awkward silence between the two men who had hardly interacted with one another until this very moment.

[caffeinektn]

A dark figure moved silently through the trees, eyeing the compound before her. Well, perhaps it was less a compound and more of a farm. It didn't stop her from being wary as ********, though. The ex raider had lost everything because of Diego's little obsession with that blonde b***h, what was her name? Lore. Lore. What the ******** kind of name was Lore? Carmen scoffed inwardly at the thought of the little blonde princess. But that was in the past now and Carmen was more interested in her own survival than whatever happened to her psychotic leader.

She had fled. With her lover, she had fled and survived and then somehow wound up alone in the world again. It was a blur, really, and Carmen wasn't entirely sure how it had happened. She had woken to a rustle in the trees, destroyed a few undead ********, and found that she was alone. Entirely. Alone.

The silence was profound.

With the clothes on her back and a small backpack full of whatever she could find that was useful, Carmen had set out in search of water, food, shelter. She moved here and there, staying as long as she liked. She had run into a small gaggle of old raiders, people that had recognized her, and they had tried to rob and rape her. They had no heads now and Carmen had calmly washed the machete in a small stream nearby, then sharpened it up nicely. She had been in the area around Caleb's little kingdom for a few days now, watching quietly, unsure whether she should stay or trust to herself and go. And then something amazing happened. She spotted Diego.

That should have been enough to have her running in the opposite direction, but it wasn't. Now she was curious whether this was his place, or someone else's. And whether or not curiosity killed the cat, Carmen was going to stick around until she found out exactly what kind of place this was. She kept as quiet as possible, but she was no hunter or tracker. She was nearly spotted once or twice, but never made. From her spot in the bushes, she could clearly see Diego standing on the front porch of a large house. He was difficult to make out, but it was clearly him. She edged closer, getting as close as possible without actually coming out into the open.

Idly she debated tossing her small throwing knife at his throat.

[Jessimafur]

Ten [********] years have passed since the first dead person walked the earth. As each day passed the world as everyone knew it just kept getting worse and worse. Mackenzie Shea Weston had always thought that zombie movies and horror flicks were completely idiotic. It was absurd to fear something that could obviously never happen, right? She believed that millions of people were wasting their time and energy thinking something as mindless (no pun intended) as a Zombie Apocalypse could actually happen. The walking dead served best as a fun way to scare children during Halloween. It didn't belong in the real world. They didn't belong in the real world. It is amazing how wrong one person could be.

The past ten years hadn't been easy on anyone, let alone Mack. For the first few years she was safe with her mother Theresa and her slightly older sister Claire. Somehow the three had managed to keep each other alive, overcoming anything that life threw at them. They had ran across a few other people here and there, but no matter what the family always seemed to stay out of the way of zombies and raiders. Being sixteen in a world that was rotting wasn't exactly easy, but she managed. Her mother had managed to raise the two girls without any help from the deadbeat that left them when Theresa was still pregnant with Mack, and because of that the young brunette felt like her mother could do anything. It wasn't until her mother didn't make it out of a heard of zeeks that Mack truly understood that no one was really safe. Not even Claire. After Theresa had died the two sisters kept on moving, and it wasn't until five days ago that Mack found herself truly alone in the world.

Hazel eyes fluttered open as the twenty-six year old woke from a relatively short slumber. For the past two days Mack had been staying in a small one bedroom house that had been vacant for some time now. The air was thick and the silence was deafening as the young brunette laid on the hardwood floor. She wanted nothing more than go to sleep one day and just not wake up, but she made a promise and she was going to keep it. "Promise me Mack! Promise me you'll see this s**t out until the end!." The last words her sister ever spoke played on repeat in her head. The end, the words were open to interpretation. Of course Mack knew exactly what Claire had meant, but she couldn't help but try to redefine the two little words. Mud stained fingers grasped the necklaces that she had made years earlier, a single bullet that could end everything. From time to time Mackenzie thought about ripping it from around her neck, but she had never worked up the urge to use it. How could she leave her sister behind? Though now she had no one. For the first time in her life the young woman was completely alone.

"Dammit." The words came out through gritted teeth as she stood off of the floor and started to pack her bag once more. Those thoughts that haunted her mind always made her feel guilty, and she needed to get the hell out of dodge before she started to attract the dead. Scarred hands grasped what little she had pulled out of her backpack the night before and shoved it back in to the right pockets. An hours worth of sleep could get her pretty far, but she'd have to leave now so she could find some place to camp out at before it got dark.

Mack let out a small breath as she peaked through the blinds, making sure that there were no freaks anywhere around. Sure she could handle two or three, but when they get together in a pack they care nearly unstoppable; Even harder to hide from. Swinging the backpack over her shoulders Mackenzie stepped out the door, shielding her eyes from the sun. Honestly she had no idea where she was going to go, no plans of the future, she just knew she couldn't stay still for long. The longer she stayed in one place the more attention she drew to herself. No, it was best to get up and move every two or three days.

With no real plan Mack headed straight for the forest behind the house. Hopefully she could find a cabin, and if not then she could take cover in the top of some random tree. Either way she'd be safe, safer than she was right now at least.

After an hour of walking Mack almost gave up, until she heard something coming from the treeline. Crouching down she headed for a bush that could easily conceal her as she investigated what was coming from the area just north of her. "You've got to be kidding me." She whispered to herself as she stared at the rather large farm directly ahead of her. Crops, animals, people, the whole nine yards. It was a perfect place to set up camp, but Mack had other thoughts. She didn't know who the hell these people were, and she wasn't looking for a group to stay with. She had already lost her family, she wasn't going to loose any friends along the way. No, she'd turn around and head the other way, branching off towards the west as soon as she got far enough.

Just as she was about the walk away Mack felt a sharp pain on the back of her head, and then there was nothing. Blackness filled her as whatever it was hit her in the base of her skull. Little did she know one of King Caleb's men had spotted her and hit her with the butt of his gun, before dragging her off into the barn only to zip-tie her to one of the beams. Luckily for the man he had caught her off guard, otherwise he'd be without a head right now.

With: Alone Where: Some farm Feeling: Passed the ******** out Wearing:Nothin' special

[Dervadoo]

As Caleb stepped away to do whatever it was he did, Diego rolled his shoulders before stepping off the front porch of the farmhouse. His hands dug around in his pockets looking for that other cigarette he had rolled earlier that day, only to find it broken in half, with tobacco spilling everywhere once it was out in the open. "[********' s**t." He spat, tossing the now useless thing to the ground, followed by grinding a heavy boot into it. "Piece. Of. ********. s**t!" He exclaimed, his temper getting the better of him as he proceeded to stomp on it angrily.

Being on this ******** farm was driving Diego up the wall. He hated King Caleb's existence. Hated these stupid ******** knights he was surrounded by. Hated that rug-munching, high-heeled wearing, fancy dress clad dike that fauned over Caleb like some ******** up weird fangirl. Hated that ginger, creepy silent giant and his stupid plastic mask. Hated everything about the place. He continued stomping his foot into the already destroyed cigarette, until his train of thought was interrupted by a passing knight who offered Diego a perfectly rolled cigarette. This guy's alright. Diego thought, shooting the knight a twisted grin as he took the cigarette between two fingers. He'd have to remember the guy's face, so he could be killed mercifully. Yeah. Nice and quick. No pain. Maybe shoot him in the head. The knight's face showed hints of confusion and worry at Diego's continued smiling, slowly walking away from the raider with wary steps. "See ya later, hermano!" Diego called out after the man, waving jovially as he watched the knight begin to walk faster.

With a new cigarette now sticking out from between his lips, Diego began his trek towards the edge of the farm, where he'd previously left his leather jacket. Upon lighting the vice and inhaling it deep, his chocolate brown eyes caught a glimpse of something watching the farm in the distance... Watching him. As he drew closer to his tree, Diego made it a point to make it seem he hadn't noticed, an attempt at drawing no attention from any nearby knights, before he suddenly pranced off into the brush, well concealed from view, and away from any of the prying eyes on the farm.

"I ******** knew that was you." Diego said in a low voice upon approaching the dark-haired woman watching him from the bushes. "How 'bout a hug, for you ol' pal?" Diego asked, now within Carmen's reach, his arms stretched out in front of him widely, as a broad grin spread across his face.

[Undead Superstar]

“Glad to see you,” Caleb said to Juliet as she entered. “Hope she was fun last night.” He glanced up with a slick grin. He knew about Juliet's sexual preference and he didn't really care. What other people did in the sack had no real impact on what he did. If she ever ended up with Tabby, then there would be problems. He gestured toward the large map he had of the area and pointed to a nearby settlement that ought to have people in it. Survivors flocked to standing buildings. His kingdom was proof of that. There was also the distinct possibility that there were supplies not yet taken. He looked over the map again before leaning forward and looking up at his enforcer.

“Going on a raid in a couple days, I want you in,” he told her, his tone specifying that it wasn't exactly a request. “I also want your input. I'm thinking of hitting here. Small town, might still be some salvage left. Hopefully someone else is thinking the same thing and we can wipe out some competition while we're at it. Cut and burn, load up the vans, get back here. Sound good. You know of anywhere else we can hit that isn't crawling with those rotting ********] He pushed off the table and started at the mess of papers before adding. “And any special we should keep an eye out for? Four your wardrobe?”

He stood back and listened to whatever she had to say before he was interrupted by a knight clearing his throat. Caleb shot him a look as he sat down a burlap sack. Caleb recognized it. It was one of the sacks that personal belongings were kept in of new recruits. People that had wandered too close to the farm and were then escorted into his castle. The man started to leave but Caleb cleared his throat, causing the man to freeze before looking back at his enforcer.

“If you wanna watch a new initiation, come with. Otherwise, I would really appreciate it if you looked over our stuff of where to go, what we need and so on.” He looked away and gestured for the other knight to start walking. He nodded and obeyed as Caleb followed. On the way to the barn, Caleb grabbed a couple more of his men, ordered them to get a weapon and a helmet on and follow. They all did and as they entered the barn, they all stood several feet away with their weapons trained on her.

Caleb walked to one of his men and extended a hand. The man withdrew a large nife from a sheath at his side and handed it to the mad king. Caleb took it before wandering back over. He dropped down to look at the unconscious woman. Her hands wrapped behind her back around the beam. The plastic keeping her captive. He could kill her right now if he wanted to. Stand back and order his men to fire. It would be all too easy. Her life would be gone before she would awaken. He shook away the mental image of her dying. No. That wasn't how it worked. If you got to the farm, you had the opportunity to live and work. Death was the way out there. That's the way it has always been here.

Holding the blade in one hand, he reached up with the other and gave her a solid smack to the side of her face. He brought the back of his hand across the other side before giving her another to guarantee that she was waking. Once he was sure that she was, he moved around her and cut the zip tie off. He rose to his feet and backed away so that all of his men had a clear shot that didn't include him. He handed the blade back and put his hands on his hips.

“Rise and shine,” he said. “On your feet. My name is King Caleb and you have stumbled into my little kingdom. You presently have two options. You can rise, tell me your name and then agree to be part of my kingdom where you can live, work and be healthy and happy and maybe see a pleasant ever after. Or you can refuse, in which case, my knights here will cripple you and I will spend the next 48 hours slowly introducing you to the deity of your choice. Pick option A and there will be a small minute long initiation after which, you see the medic and get your gear. Option B will start with you kissin gyour kneecaps goodbye. So, which is it?”

Part of him wanted her to choose the latter one. He could picture himself slowly tearing her limb from limb. Dissecting her like an insect, all the while making her build up to the apex of the screams. Without losing his empty smile, he forced the thoughts away. He was starting to think like Diego. He could feel it. While he had lost control over the deaths of his queens, he refused to devolve into the type of villainous wretch that Diego was. After a brief moment he added.

“Please pick Option A.”

[wolark]

He could feel her hesitation, that first instinct to push him away and fight, and yet he kept her there, pressed against that tree as his body contoured to hers. The sting of her nails biting into the skin of his wrist fueled him all the more, her tight grasp of his shirt as she let go all reason and drew him in. His grip around her throat tightened slightly before sliding across her jawline. In every aspect, this was wrong. It was broken, flawed, and fueled by nothing but desire. Flick craved her, he craved what she gave him, and the bitterness that stood between them, yet seeped enough to let them have this dysfunctional union made him need it more. And it was wrong. He knew it was wrong, and he knew it wasn't real. It was just a way to cope, she was an out for him. She was a distraction, and in that single moment of thought, he paused.

In that precise moment, it seemed Lore had something draw her from the dark euphoria as well. He thought at first she was... Hugging him? However, the stance quickly changed and he was thrown completely off guard. Unbecoming of his usual 'tough guy' stance, the familiar, seemingly unchangeable, ominous stance he normally took, Flick stumbled backward from the sudden pressure applied to him as she shoved him backward. His attempt to right himself was in vain as his feet caught on eachother and lost grip in the soggy mud of the creek bed. Flick toppled over, twisting a moment too late to catch himself. Instead, he landed sideways, instantly becoming drenched in the chilly water of the creek. "Oof-" He let out as the surprise shock of cold water stung his skin and sent chills down his spine. Flick got to his feet almost instantly, any remaining thoughts of desire he had before gone and replaced with a sour irritation.

He stood there, dripping wet, staring at Lore with a wide-eyed, tight jawed expression. He remained silent as she withdrew a cigarette after having lit it and taking a drag, and offered it to him. His glance fell from her to the cig, then back to her with a dark glare. “That’s for throwin’ me in a lake, jackass.” She spoke coolly. Flick wasn't one to normally shrug such a 'prank' off, since most people wouldn't have even attempted to do anything of the like to him. He didn't strike people as having a sense of humor. Well, a reasonable sense of humor, especially when the expense was on him. And yet, his expression softened. His normally stoic face was now broken by a slight upwards turn of the mouth, a downward gaze of his mahogany eyes, and a chuckle. He was sopping wet, yet not in the least bit angry. "I'll give you that one." He replied, taking the cigarette and taking in a much needed drag. Smoke filled his lungs after weeks of nothing but clean air, and Flick savored it. Eyes closed, he held it in a moment, then exhaled slowly, handing the cigarette back to her.

He looked at the lithe blonde, that rare smile fading back into a stone-face. What they had was an escape to get away from the brutal reality of the world. Flick was, and always had been one to take advantage of situations. While he wouldn't control them, he would manipulate them to fit to him. His time in the gang before the fall of it all, he wasn't the leader. He was the man behind the curtain. He gave the gang direction, voicing his opinion on everything. The raiders, he was Diego's top man. Flick's line of what was right and wrong were so far skewed, even he couldn't much tell what side he really was on. He turned on Diego without a second thought, and the people of Jamestown? He never gave a s**t about them. He didn't know them, and Sharky was the only reason he went there. He had abandoned his own brother before the end of the world, and turned his back on anything family. Flick let his the people in his gang who called him 'friend' die. Before Lore, there was Micaela... Diego's own sister, whom Flick had felt an attraction to. He was ten years younger at the time, and even though he told himself he loved her... He allowed Diego to spiral into his insanity and remain in power, ultimately leading to her demise. And Lore? Lore was the leader of Jamestown. She held the lives of those people highly and knew each and every one of them. She was strong willed and stubborn. And yet, she fell for Flick like all the others.

He knew it then. He couldn't stay. He would leave that night, while everyone slept.

[caffeinektn]

s**t. He had spotted her. At first she wasn't sure since he didn't look in her direction, not truly. But when his direction shifted as he disappeared into the trees, she knew he had made her. Sure enough, his voice rumbled behind her and she rose to her feet, warily keeping a distance between them. He had never punished her like the others, but that didn't mean there was any form of trust between them. Not real trust anyway. He would spit her out if he had no use for her, which was why she always made herself available for his every... desire. She had her limits, but she had to admit that ******** the man that stood before her had it's perks and it's pleasures.

Her eyes narrowed as he spoke, his arms held out in a manner that was simultaneously welcoming and menacing. "I thought you were dead," she said, voice flat and brows furrowed in a look that suggestion confusion. Carmen wasn't sure she could trust Diego now. She had no idea what had happened to him, where he had been, who he had seen, or whether she was of any use to him now. She hesitated a moment, then gave him a tight lipped smile. "D'you want a hug, or d'you want me to bend over for you?" For a brief moment she wished she'd had any of those slinky little outfits he'd loved to see her in back at the stadium, but they were all long gone now. No reason to dress like that when you're running for your life. Instead she was wearing a pair of fitted black jeans, faded and torn, a maroon tank top, and a pair of leather boots. It was practical and comfortable.

Finally Carmen moved closer to Diego. She wasn't as afraid of him as the others were, though whether that was insanity or well placed confidence was yet to be seen. But she didn't hug him. She stepped close, until the heat of his body and the scent of him enveloped her. He towered over her small frame. She glanced up at him with cold eyes, daring him to do his worst. He would either attempt kill her, or tear her clothes off. Or drag her into this little camp he stayed in, but somehow she had a feeling he would want something all to himself. "Shoulda known Diego wouldn't stay dead," she said, her voice lowered now that they stood so close. She rose up on her toes and nipped sharply at his jaw, but not other part of her touched him. "What is this place? Some kinda farm life you got goin' here?" She was both curious about the compound and who was in charge. Through the trees she spotted a band of people led by a man heading into the barn. It was too far to make out too much, but it was clear the person leading the men was just that; a leader.

[Rose Scented]

As bold a move as it had been Lorelei had expected violence in return, in some ways she had wanted violence. If there was any truth at the end of the world it wasn’t in the arms of lovers or at the hands of mercy, it was in the blood, the grit, the death and the strife that each and every survivor had to come to terms with. The memory of a time when living meant shopping malls, cell phones and lazy afternoons watching television shows with Gemma and Derek had long since gone hazy, and at times Lorelei found it hard to believe that such a time line ever existed. She had never been meant for that life, she had never exactly fit in. A born leader with a knack for solving all of her problems with brutality, Lorelei had almost been happy to see the old world go up in flames and explosions that shook the sky and rattled the foundation of the entire human race, leaving only destruction, chaos, and survival of those worthy in its wake. Yet, a part of her had clung to the positive of the old world. It had made her weak and pliable, and because of it all she had helped to construct had been ripped from her bleeding fingers and destroyed by an angry man that probably wasn’t loved enough as a child. The sixteen year old homecoming queen, the captain of the cheerleading squad, the advanced placement student… That Lorelei had died. She had gone up in flames and been burned to the ground, left behind in the ash and cumulative destruction.

Grateful as she was to see the return of the small group that seemed to be near immortal in its collective will to survive, a small, shriveled part of her that was buried in the darkest corner of her mind had wished them all dead and gone from this reality. Lorelei herself was growing weary of the world, exhausted by the simple thought of tomorrow, and if the others had been taken by the dead she might have been able to end it. Flat giving up wasn’t an option when there were others leaning on her for support, or clinging to the idea of her being a living, breathing constant. It was an unbelievably selfish notion, and one that exhausted her into being awake. She never contemplated the why of it very often, though embedded alongside the withered monster that she had been starving for a decade, she housed the thought that her attraction to Flick wasn’t purely in the distraction of it all, but in the abuse of it all. It was a relationship that was so far beyond the socially accepted norm that Lorelei welcomed every harsh touch, every bruise, and every moment that she didn’t have to be in control. With Flick, everything could fall apart and it wouldn’t be on her to fix it. With Flick she could lose it, and let the insanity swallow her whole.

“I’ll give you that one.” Lorelei blinked, briefly floundering in the remnants of her thoughts but still lucid enough to catch the barest hint of a smile and the softening of his eyes, and she returned it with a mild chuckle that was distracted and troubled. Her fingers released the pinched roll of paper and tobacco and then shifted to prop on her hips as her head creaked back so she could examine the darkening sky. Night fell fast when there was no sense of time, and it always seemed longer and darker than it ever had before. She righted her head and reached out to accept the f** back from him, propping it casually between her lips and then dropping her hands to hook her thumbs into her back belt-loops, her head canted to the side to cast the smoke away at an angle. “Damn straight you ********]! ********]” From beyond the line of trees a zombie lurched from where it had been shambling harmlessly by, all but ignored by Lorelei as she contemplated the various complicated backroads of her mind, and it had slipped her notice that it ( or rather she ) had drawn close enough to catch her scent. In one solid movement the zombie had surged forward and caught Lorelei around the waist, taking her down hard. Just barely she managed to catch herself, scuffing her elbows on the rocks that lined the creek.

The scent of decay immediately became overwhelming, filling her nose with a sickly sweet, acrid stench that turned her stomach and for a terrifyingly beautiful moment Lorelei had the idea to not fight back at all. In the space between heartbeats her instincts kicked in and she twisted beneath the grabbing hands and snapping teeth, and shoved her forearm up beneath the shelf of its jaw and snapped her head to the side, protecting herself from infected spittle tainted with oozing bile. More curses flew from her lips in a near unintelligible slew of consonants and vowels, in insults that didn’t make a single bit of sense, and she grimaced and cursed louder as her fingers sank into decomposing flesh. Slick from the combined slime of dead blood and mud, Lorelei’s hands grappled unsuccessfully with the creature atop her, making it a near impossible to fight her, but then the monster was gone, pulled back and off of her by Flick. Lorelei scrambled to her feet, ignoring the unctuous layer of mud and duff that clung to her clothing and she lifted her gaze to the rotten semblance of a human that craved her flesh. Her heart dropped. "Wait long enough?" she snapped irritably, checking herself for any skin breaks that could turn into problems before she lifted her gaze and caught the dogtags hanging from the zombies neck.

“Stop!” Flick’s knife came to a halt just before it split into the zombie’s skull and destroyed her brain, and Lorelei stepped forward demandingly, daring the creature to be who she thought it was, and hoping with the very beats of her heart that it wasn’t. Careful to avoid being bitten, Lorelei captured the zombie’s head between her fingers and tightened her grasp enough to prevent it from lurching forward and grazing her with dislodged teeth. With bile rising steadily into the back of her throat until it became a steady burn, Lorelei lifted her gaze to the zombie’s face and felt a true, deadening moment of defeat that settled into a throbbing ache in the center of her chest, and volleyed painful volts of guilt into her limbs. Though the face staring back at her was in the early stages of decay, cheeks drawn gaunt by an accelerated metabolism and eyes now glazed by thin cataracts of white, grimy blonde hair that hung in clumps and tangles while being completely detached and trailing chunks of scalp, Lorelei knew her. Stepping back and releasing her, Lorelei moved her gaze down the thin rotting body and found the source of her demise; an infected bite oozing a viscous brown fluid. On the left side of her cheek was a thin line burnt into the flesh and peppered out around it were tell-tale signs of gunpowder, and Lorelei realized with a sense of great dread, that Aria Johnson had tried to end her life before the virus did, and failed. Gritting her teeth and setting her expression into a stone façade of strength, she nodded to Flick and muttered for him to release her. She didn’t pay attention to his reaction to the order, merely waited until he let go, and caught Aria by the shoulders as she charged her. Grunting with the force, Lorelei twisted and used Aria’s momentum to send them to the ground.

She struggled with Aria for several long, swelling moments. Each second that ticked by seemed to take an eternity to pass through the eye of a needle, each breath echoed in her ears as the past screamed at her in blood dripping, guilt ridden cries. Her fingers latched around Aria’s thin wrists, biting into flesh that was no longer cohesive to bone, and in the process of wrestling them beneath her knees, she heard the crack of a weakened bone that shattered the world. With a flinch that contorted her steady expression into a broken grimace, Lorelei finally had her pinned. From the waistband of her jeans she drew a generic folding pocket knife, and she flicked the blade open with an efficient twist of her wrist that shot ignored pain deep into the joint of her aching shoulder. “I’m sorry I couldn’t save you, Ari.” Lorelei muttered weakly, and with ginger fingers she brushed the hair from Aria’s sickly pallor and then gripped her chin and locked their gazes together, Lorelei’s riddled with remorseful responsibility, and Aria’s with a frenzied hunger. A myriad of inimical seconds ticked by in a reality that was too acute, washed by an impenetrable limpidity that shattered Lorelei’s already fractured heart into a million shards of paper thin glass. “I’m sorry.” Grinding her teeth to keep the simple, agonized phrase from becoming a mantra, Lorelei tightened her grip on Aria’s chin and pulled her head up from the ground. With her knuckles bleached a blazing white against the handle of the knife, Lorelei twisted her arm under Aria’s head, and drove her head back onto the blade of the knife.

Lorelei released the knife and tenderly lessened her grasp on Aria’s chin, both of her hands withdrawn to rest on the discolored platform of her thighs as her head dipped and her eyes closed. Breathe in, breathe out, she told herself, her own internal voice whispering in a cracked hiss through her mind, rattling like an autumn breeze through barren aspen trees. Time seemed to lapse into a single stretched moment as Lorelei gathered her composure and stood from the ground, easing herself to the side of Aria’s body so that she could slip her arms beneath her, and lift the skeletal frame up. Cradling the lifeless shell against her chest, she took a single step towards the stream and then stopped, rooted into place by the conflict of her actions and the repercussions that would come. It was then, in that singular moment in her life, that Lorelei made a decision that would forever change how she treated those around her. Dripping with mud and disgrace, Lorelei pivoted and looked to Flick whom, briefly, she had forgotten was even there. “You know where the cabin is, you can go… I… I’ve got… Th..this.”

But he didn’t leave.

Lorelei found a quiet spot that looked undisturbed by passing travelers and delicately lowered Aria down, carefully lowering her head to the ground to prevent further damage to her body. It took over an hour to claw and dig her way into the ground, using the resources she had available to eat away a hole that was a meager three feet deep. Her hands ached, her fingers bled, her back screamed at her but Aria deserved it. As a general rule the people of Jamestown had always burned their dead, but at the risk of alerting them Lorelei did the best she could while maintaining subtlety. Flick had tried to help, and Lorelei had silently waved him off, working alone until Aria’s body was concealed beneath a layer of dirt that stood in contrast to the surrounding greenery. An unmarked grave was far less than her friend deserved, but in the same fashion that Lorelei had hid Emilia’s rapier from Eddie, she was hiding Aria’s body from Derek. The group needed strength. Concentration. She would deal with the fallout when it came time.

“Don’t tell Derek,” Lorelei muttered softly, mostly to herself.


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For a long time Lorelei had stood and stared at the mound of dirt masking the horror beneath it, and Flick had stood beside her. She didn’t lean on him, she didn’t take his hand for comfort, they merely stood in silence as the world kept turning around them. She didn’t cry, or scream about the injustice of it all, nor did she beg for time to turn back and to take her life instead. A simple kind of numbness had drowned her emotions into a muted cry in the back of her mind, a scratching, grating sound that Lorelei couldn’t escape, a buzzing of a thousand insects that threatened to drive her crazier than she already was. When it all got to be too much, she turned and left the scene, storing it in the back of her mind. Upon reaching the stream she had stripped her soiled clothing off and scrubbed each piece in a monotonous, robotic silence that echoed throughout the galaxies of her mind, and then scoured herself clean as well, though the stench of her deceit clung to her. Eventually they made it back to the cabin and Lorelei put on a convincing show of chatting animatedly with the others. They feasted on squirrels and rabbits that Jax and Derek had caught, and when confronted by Gemma about why she was acting so strange Lorelei merely shrugged it off and made up an excuse her twin didn’t believe.

Night fell, shadows swarmed and a peaceful serene took over. Lorelei laid in the back bedroom facing the ceiling, her eyes wide and dull in the shadows of the room as Sharky and Gemma slept on the space next to her, twined in each other’s arms and momentarily free from the world. Like most nights she couldn’t sleep, only this time it was due to Aria’s face haunting her. When she couldn’t stand it anymore, Lorelei slowly stood and dragged herself through the window in the back bedroom, careful not to wake the sleeping Eddie in the middle of the floor where she had tried to make him comfortable, drawing on a loose fitting jacket after passing through. She rounded the small shack, and stepped up onto the porch where Jax was already there, keeping watch despite Lorelei having told him about the line of booby traps that she and Zak had set upon finding the cabin a week prior. “Go get some sleep,” she muttered, touching his shoulder and giving him a look that dared him to challenge the question. He gave in, and Lorelei stepped down off the porch and paced out into the yard. Rather easily she scaled a large pine tree, and settled back into the branches, keeping watch over the silent cabin, and allowing that glacial numbness to once more settle over her.

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With: No One Where: In a tree. Feeling: Numb. Wearing: Apocalypse Chic

PROFILE