Jax heard the door click open, and he looked at the person standing in the doorway. He wasn't sure what to do, what to say. His arm was bleeding heavily, but something left a bad taste in his mouth. How could he trust another person easily after being abandoned and almost murdered by many others? His cut looked painful, the blood mixed with wood debris, but his face was blank. No pain, no sadness, no happiness, just blank. "Hello." Jax's voice was flat. He didn't like showing any emotion to people. It would hurt him in the long run. It was better to protect himself like this. "Can you—help me?" He clinched his jax. The words help me were forced out of his own mouth. He hated asking for help. Jax believed he could do just fine on his own, but he needed his arm to be bandaged, and a safe place to stay. Being out in a world swarmed with zombies would get him killed in the long run. He shifted his satchel, bringing it close to his person. He removed the bloody hand from the wound and grabbed something from inside. It was his notebook, and he hesntently handed it to the stranger. Handing over such a possetion showed turst in someone whom he just met, but if he couldn't talk for himself, then he'd let the notebook do all the work. Things Cass could notice by looking at him was: A.) the bloody knife with the deep red zombie blood on his belt, B.) how tired and thin he looked, and C.) how he swayed from side to side about to pass out.
Cass took in the mans appearance, getting more concerned the more he notices the details. Though his eyes locked on his knife, wary to even let him near.
He loved helping people as much as he could don't get him wrong. But as time went on the more dangerous newcomers were and he had become far less trusting.
But everyone deserves a chance right? Especially in this world where you spent most of your time running and fighting for your life. The least Cass could do was let him in.
He holds his hand out, "if i help you, would you be willing to hand over you're weapons? i just want to make sure nobody gets hurt and i can trust you alright?" he asks softly, looking in his eyes. He knew it would be a lot easier to try and punch him and knock him out. Then he would take him inside and patch him up without him trying to hurt anyone.
Though Cass decided he would try to do that if he doesn't comply.
Ophelia rolls over in the bed and opens her eyes to find the bed empty. Her brows furrow "dad?" she calls though still whispering. They had gotten used to talking quietly just in case anything was nearby.
She slips out of bed, her feet hitting the hard wood with a soft tap before you hear the soft pitter-patter trail down the stairs. Her hair was a dark brown mess of curls that falls all over her face. She had one a thin brown and tan sweater Cass had made for her and some shorts. She was small and skinny, her skin tone a dark caramel color and her cheeks were rosy. One side significantly more than the other as you could see which side she slept on.
She steps off of the stairs and into the living room to see her father in the open doorway and a man that was hurt. Her eyes widen and she goes to hide behind one of the couches though whoever was at the doorway most likely saw her.
Taking out another zombie, Clovis notices Jesse’s momentary alarm before she dives behind the RV for cover.
Damn it, I should shout something to let her know we’re just helping.
He swallows, taking a step back as his focus goes back to the zombies closing in and reaching for him.
Onyx lets go of his shirt when he steps backward and takes a few steps back himself, feeling a drop of rain land on his arm. A chill runs up his spine as the voices of the zombies draw closer, close enough to have a hold of Clovis now. He draws the knife from his belt, planting his feet firm and staying silent.
The sky rumbles, a few raindrops spilling over the dark clouds as the background of blue is quickly enveloped. It starts as a sprinkle but quickly turns into a downpour, wetting the warm and rotting bodies around, adding to the stench instead of washing it away.
Clovis quickly holsters his gun, kicking a zombie in the gut while doing so to buy himself some time to attack hands on. Onyx takes another few steps back with the sound of Clovis’ foot landing a blow to the zombie, making to sure to stay a good bit away front the walkers if he could. He was still half asleep anyways, not to mention they’d only just left the woods and the terrain was unfamiliar.
Thrusting his foot through the almost-hollow chest of the zombie on the ground, then crushing it’s skull, Clovis whips his head around to try to find Jesse, aware that she’d probably taken him as a threat. He doesn’t look for long before being grabbed by a zombie from the right. He takes it by the hair before it can lunge at his skin.
Jax looked at the stranger with weary and wary eyes. If anything can to, he could still protect himself with hand-to-hand combat. He glanced at the knives and daggers on his belt. Then looked back up at Cass. How trusting was he going to be towards this man? He's never trust anyone. But survival instincts also told him that if he wasn't stitched up soon, his blood might attract something. All the blood from the bleeding wound dripped onto the porch, and heard the sound of low groans, and he stood straight up. He had no other choice if he wanted to survive. "Yeah… I-I can do that." This interaction made him nervous, but he unlatched his utility belt with all the weapons and gave it to the man. He glanced over to his bag. "Do worry about the bag. I only store my notebook." He held it up, for it was still in his hand. "And important things like medicinal plants and food." His tone was still bleak. He wasn't sure if he'd ever open up to this man. He wasn't about to beg or get pity. Jax leaned on the wooden doorway, supporting himself with his right arm, his good arm. He saw a small figure dart across the wooden floor, and he understood the man. "You have a child with you." He muttered. "I can leave if you aren't safe with me around. I'll brave the zombies and take care of my injured arm myself."
The blood from his arm dripped quicker and quicker onto the concrete, onto his boots. This boy was an obvious wreck. No one could say how long he's been on his own. Jax knew it as nine hellish years alone, six months fighting zombies. His symptoms had gotten worse, and the groans of the zombies getting closer elicited a panic in him. Breathing started to become difficult, and as he looked Cass in the eyes, he could keep away the emotion that triggered all moral response to help someone.
//Gore Warning//
Jesse looks at the zombie grabbing her arm with its boney hand, the muscles having deteriorated a decent amount so its grip wasn't strong enough to hurt only to startle her.
She grabs its wrist, trying to pull it back but the flesh slips off like a sleeve as she does. Feeling the skin rip from its muscles made Jesse let go and punch it in the face instead due to her instinct for when something grosses her out and/or causes her to panic.
Though surprised when it didn't knock out the zombie (duh) she picks a stick up off the ground, having dropped her machete and didn't have time to look for it, she stabs it through the zombies eye and into its brain. Juice mixed with blood oozed from the whole in the eye socket now as she dug the stick deeper into its skull until it stops moving. She wipes the residue of the zombies skin on her cargo pants with disgust.
Jesse lets the zombie fall to the ground and looks around the RV, confused as to where the rest of the zombies went.
She follows the sound of their feet trudging along the hard gravel and their groans as they become more distant. Stepping over to the other side of the RV to see a big man fighting a zombie with his bare hands.
She thought about whether or not to help him. She could use this chance to get the gun and have him surrender because even though she's a good fighter, she didn't want to try fighting this lumberjack cowboy lookin dude.
Jesse quickly goes for the gun, sliding on the gravel to reach for it as it fell slightly underneath the vehicle. She pushes herself up quickly and cocks the gun, pulling back the slide over the top and aiming it at the man. She changes her aim to the zombie he was holding back by its hair and pulling the trigger back, shooting it dead. Her aim immediately goes back to him, not noticing the zombie walking towards him.
Clovis knees the zombie at the same time as Jesse shoots it through the head. He whips around to see her, the gun pointed at him now.
I swear to god, if you-
He catches sight of the last zombie closing in on him from the corner of his eye, and turns, punching it square in the face, taking out its deteriorating jaw and sending it stumbling backwards to the ground. He pulls his gun out, shooting it twice through the skull before it lays still.
He blinks, standing frozen for a second before holstering his gun again and wiping his hands on his shirt. He turns, making eye contact with Jesse, already soaked from the downpour, though the rain hadn’t done much to wash away the blood across his face and arms.
Cass takes the belt slowly, hanging it up on a nail he had put into the wall to hang things up. Mostly for jackets of sorts but a bloody belt with weapons attached will work as well.
His heart stops at his words about the child and he takes a deep breath. "You're okay to stay" he says stepping back "you try anything I'll make sure you regret it though" he says in a lower, quieter voice so Ophelia couldn't hear.
She peaks her head out from behind the couch, her big eyes looking at the two.
"Fia can you go back upstairs honey?" he asks kindly, stepping back to look at her. She pouts, sticking out her bottom lip "but he needs help. Can I help him?" she says, disappointed he had told her to go upstairs. Cass sighs "okay stay in the living room. If I need your help I'll call for you okay?" he says, looking back over to the man, stepping aside to let him in, though his back was turned to Ophelia, blocking the strangers way to her if he tried anything.
Fia nods, jumping onto the couch and leaning on the back, her big brown eyes locked onto the strange bleeding man.
He looks at the porch, frowning.
he's getting blood all over my porch…I just scrubbed it as clean as I could get it he thought, trying not to be disgusted too much.
"follow me to the kitchen" he says calmly.
Cass holds himself high and confident, his appearance tends to lean more on the scary side not only due to his height but his mass and the fact that he has a huge scar over his face, going through his right eye and lip. Though despite his threatening appearance, he made up for it with his calm aura. (lol I sound like a hippie but idk how else to describe it)
Jesse keeps her gun on the man, her dark hair sticking to the sides of her face and neck as the rain pours down on them. The cold droplets hitting her skin, sending a stinging sensation along her body. Her skin was dry but she still didn't like the rain any more than when she did before this all started.
She tries to steady her breath but it was hard to do so when every time she would breath in, the water dripping from her face would fall into her mouth as she did so.
"what do you want?" she asks, her voice loud and strong as she spoke. Her thick german accent more evident than ever at the moment as she was speaking louder over the rain.
Frenchie crinkled her nose as the smell of the decayed remains of a now thoroughly beaten walker reached her nose. She shook the blood off of her worn baseball bat as best she could before holstering it in it's usual loop in the utility belt around her waist before continuing down the empty city streets.
She needed to get out of here, she'd already stalled enough with her two week rest here and needed to keep moving. But to keep going meant another risky dash through the woods and she'd barely gotten out of the last one with her life, if the newly sewn patches on the old soccer jersey she always wore were any testament to it.
Frenchie took a quiet breath and made her way down another side street, constantly watching her back and ducking behind garbage cans and broken pieces of rubble when she needed. Because of her small stature, Frenchie found it was a lot easier for her to hide and find cover than most people. But that also made escape when she was cornered that much harder seeing as it made her stride that much shorter. But it's why she'd taken up running. If she couldn't be tall, she could certainly be fast.
Frenchie did as she does best in this broken city filled with dead people trying to eat her. Move to higher ground. So in she ducked to an old high rise apartment building and started up the stairs, leaping over decayed pieces and weak spots as she climbed quietly. Tomorrow. Tomorrow she would brave the woods and move forward.
Ryder peels the crust off of his bread, taking a bite. He squints, looking up at the rumbling clouds. “Unless you wanna kill that fancy book of yours, we should head in soon.”
David nods, sitting next to him on the roof, his solar powered notebook computer setting on his thighs as he types away. “Mmhm.”
Ryder raises an eyebrow, leaning over to see the screen but quickly decides all of the garbled symbols and letters were uninteresting. He turns his attention back to his bread. “Do You think he might take other zombies instead of people? Like, is there a zombie rule where they don’t eat each other.”
Pausing, David looks to Ryder with a squint and his mouth slightly open.
If they would eat other zombies then we wouldn’t have this problem, you idiot.
He sighs, “no, he wouldn’t take rotting flesh. There has to be something about the fresh blood and organs of live humans that satisfies them.” Turning back to the computer, he jots a few last things down and closes it, just in time to feel a drop then two of rain.
Ryder pushes himself up, squinting and looking at the street below them. “So, you don’t think if they found him they’d eat him?”
David presses his glasses up before standing and walking towards the door to inside from the roof. “He’ll be fine, Ryder. Let’s get inside before we’re both drenched.”
(I put them on Frenchie’s roof by the way)
Clovis raises his hands as a sign of defense. “I just came from the forest. Even if I wanted to just walk by, they would have followed.” He explains, his voice raised enough to carry over the sound of the rain. “I’m not here to hurt you.”
She might have supplies in that RV, so I’ll hold off suggesting that we just walk our separate ways. Besides, she seems on edge and I’m not sure either of us trusts the other enough to turn our back to walk away. And I should get Onyx out of this downpour before he catches something.
Onyx stands stalk still a few feet behind Clovis, already drenched head to toe. He stares at the grass, paying close attention to their voices and the sound of the rain hitting the RV.
She has a shelter. It’d be a good idea to go ahead and get out of this rain. Is she wounded?
If Jax was in the safety of a home. He wouldn't need his weapons, right? His paranoia began to creep into his thoughts as he watched Cass put up his weapons. Isn't he going to try and hurt me? On the other hand, was always fighting these thoughts. *No, he has a child. He'd never do something like that. When Cass said it was fine for Jax to stay, Jax nodded. "I'm not going to." He muttered regarding the child. His blue eyes are sifting through the house, looking for anything unusual. He needed something that piqued his interest and made him suspicious. There was nothing to be seen. When Jax heard the child speak, he gave a small smile. He always tried to be warm towards children than to adults with whom he communicated to. Children were fragile, and he knew that from personal experience. Jax entered the house and began to investigate his surroundings. There was nothing unusual about it. It was comfortable for an apocalyptic home. Instead of investigating the living room, he went straight to the kitchen. To avoid dripping blood all over this man's wooden floors, Jax covered the gash as best he could.
He entered the kitchen and took a look around at the plain white walls and cherry wood cabinets. He shrugged his shoulders. It was better than any of the places he'd stayed in during his nine-years alone. He sat down after noticing the small wooden kitchen table, pulling out a chair. If Cass was still wary, Jax slung the bag over the chair and motioned for him to look in it. His hand was stained red as he exposed his left arm. He wore a leather jacket around his waist and had a few scars on his body. The ones on his clavicle and over his mouth are the most noticeable. There was nothing unusual about the wound in question; it was just a straight gash. The surrounding area was irritated and red, but it was not infected.
(Oh! Someone to interact with! Cool!)
Frenchie continued to make her way up until she found something. A few levels from the roof, there seemed to be a camp. For multiple people. Which meant there were other people here. She wasn't sure to laugh or cry. Frenchie hadn't seen another living soul in months, she honestly wasn't sure if there were any even left. But this was proof. Proof she wasn't alone.
And that was the scary part. She wasn't alone. And there were other people who she didn't know the intentions of. People always used to underestimate her when the world wasn't a living nightmare, what would they do now? Sure she could fight but being as small as she was, she could easily be overpowered.
(Slight graphic warning)
So for now, Frenchie hid. There was a decently sized closet in one corner that was unused that she decided to make her nest. If the people seemed friendly, she could come out. If not, she could wait until they were asleep, slit their throats with one of the knives she kept handy, then loot their stuff and bounce. Seemed like a good enough plan.
Jesse keeps her gun up and her finger still on the trigger, ready to shot.
What he was saying had an extremely high percentage of being true. Its not like she was purposely hidden and they found her. That'd be suspicious.
No. She was out in the open in a hoard of zombies.
She looks around him to see if anyone else was around him and that's when she notices the kid behind him standing still. He wasn't looking at anything other than the ground. What for? Was he not worried about the gun being pointed at the man he was with?
She's visibly confused by the child but she doesn't lower the gun. He could be holding him captive or something? Is the kid in some sort of trouble? Does he want her to shoot him? Is that maybe why he doesn't even look up at her?
"whos the kid?" she asks, her eyes going back to the large man. The kid kind of creeped her out and it was kind of obvious. What was his deal?
Cass looks up to the sky, looking at the dark rain clouds that were rolling in from a distance. He sighs, not wanting to do any of his chores in the rain. But after all of this he could relax by the window and listen to the rain. Maybe he could put out some jars or buckets to get some rain and filter it?
He mentally notes this as he closes the door behind the man. He watches him sit down on the chair and he cringes some more.
I'm gonna have to clean that too huh he thinks to himself before getting out a box from underneath the sink.
He sets it on the wooden table before looking at the bag. "mind if I put this aside?" he asks, his hand on it.
Inside of the box on the table was all of his first aid supplies. Some were homemade, some were found at stores he and Ophelia got lucky at.
He knew he was going to need to stitch that up but he didn't have any numbing medicine so Cass hoped this guy would be able to handle it.
Jax looked at Cass and watched as he got out the red box from under the sink. He felt bad for dripping blood all over the man's floors, but he had not control over it. "I could— clean up the mess for you." He offered, still surprised, he walked into a stranger's house. That meant he trusted him, and that was the worst thing you could do in the apocalypse. He shook his head, "I don't mind." He wanted the wound to be stitched up. He was in enough pain already. His adrenaline covered every other injury on his body. The ticking of a grandfather clock soothed him, and he relaxed his ridged muscles. Jax had really dark under eyes, and he looked sickly. Being out for too long had deaerated his body, and it needed repair. He closed his eyes as when he saw the stitching needled and no numbing medication. "Make it quick." He whispered, turning his head and tightening his jaw as the first stitch went in.
David’s footsteps are light and close to silent as they descend the stairs, but Ryder puts no effort into muffling his thumping steps. He slips the rest of his bread into his satchel, walking through a doorway and down a hall.
“The question is,” David starts without prompting, “what about fresh blood and organs is appealing to the zombies? What makes them lust for it?”
Ryder shrugs, “Maybe-“
“-I wonder,” he interrupts, “if you put a body that was a few days old out there, would they attack it? Is it only fresh bodies they’re after, or… is it something else?”
Ryder doesn’t answer this time, walking through a doorway into their makeshift camp setup. He sets his satchel down, picking up a black jar from beside his bedding. “I’m gonna go check on Vamp down there.” He states, not specifically talking to David since he knew he wasn’t answering.
David slips his computer underneath his bedding. “Are they lacking something we have? Besides, ah, the obvious? Hm…”
Ryder glances over to him, “I’ll be back.” He raises his voice a little to try to make sure he’d break through David’s thoughts.
David only nods, mumbling to himself still while drawing up something in a notebook.
-
Clovis glances over his shoulder for a split second before taking a few steps back to be closer in front of Onyx.
What the heck? Does she feel threatened by a small child?
“He’s with me.” He states, a little suspicious and hesitant to say much else about him.
Onyx furrows his brow, looking forward and past Jesse.
She probably has supplies. We could use ammunition or food, honestly.
Frenchie just watched from the crack in the door, shrinking back when she saw the two people come in. She listened silently, her gut turning at the ideas they were throwing around.
Are they seriously experimenters? Great, just my damn luck. Well, they don't seem all that threatening. I could probably take them down if they try to kill me and harvest my body.
For now, she just settled into her spot, prepared to hold her position until she could get a good enough idea of what they were really like or until they fell asleep.
Cass went ahead and sets his back on the kitchen counter and sits down next to him in a chair, getting out a small cloth and a bottle of water, soaking it and cleaning the wound, not wanting to use any chemicals in fear of harming the wound and irritating the skin as well.
"oh its okay ill clean it up. Once we're done with this you need to clean up and get some rest. i have a bedroom upstairs you can use for now" he says calmly, focusing on his wound. He only had one of open, the scarred one shut most of the time so his vision was limited.
Pulling fishing line through the needle and a pair of tweezers, looking at his face as he closed his eyes before he punctures the skin.
The fishing line was just about all he had so it was a lot thicker and it was more painful.
He cringes almost every time he pulls the needle through his irritated flesh, the string tugging the skin to bond each sides of the would together.
"ive got a few questions if that's alright with you" he says calmly "maybe it will offer a distraction to the pain so you don't have to focus on that" he states as he pulls the needle through yet another piece of flesh. "how long have you been on your own?" Cass asks, trying to be as calm as possible. He was rather good with wounds and comforting people but it was a little different when you don't even trust this person yet.
Jesse sighs, putting the gun down and holstering it "I'm not going to hurt it-him" she corrects herself, looking at him a little longer.
Her eyes widen when the kid looks just past her. She gets a better look at his eyes as well, the fogginess in them a good giveaway. Though the orange color sure was unique.
oh shit he's blind! she comes to the realization and immediately feels awfully stupid about it.
She wasn't about to say thank you so instead she turns around and starts looking for the machete she had dropped earlier. She soon finds it and rounds the RV, the door facing the man and his child.
"get in before you get sick" she says, her voice making her sound really grumpy but she really couldn't care any less.
Ryder rolls his eyes, walking out of the room. He heads to the stairs again, marching down them loudly.
David furrows his brow, holding out his notebook and studying the small map he’d drawn up of the surrounding area, marking a few places here and there with symbols. “According to what we’ve already found, there will most likely be another horde out east of he… ere.” He looks around, noticing Ryder’s absence. He sighs. “Even in a zombie apocalypse people don’t use basic manners. Seriously.” He shuts his notebook and puts it into their backpack.
The rain picks up, pounding on the roof and windows of the building, thunder rumbling in the distance behind it.
“I swear, if he brings Gabriel up here…” He grumbles to himself, sitting on the edge of his sleeping bag. “A little rain wont hurt the animal.”
-
Clovis watches her, a little offended for Onyx when she automatically called him an ‘it’. He slips his hand into Onyx’s, squeezing it. “Stay alert. I’m not really sure about her.” He whispers before heading towards Jesse. Onyx is much less fazed by her hostility than Clovis, sheathing his knife before they made it to the RV. Clovis gives her a nod, letting Onyx in before himself.
“Out of gas?” Clovis asks, assuming that’s why she didn’t plow through the zombies. She wouldn’t be the first person he’d met to be hoarding gas like a lunatic though.
Frenchie shuddered with the thunder, remembering the many times she'd been stuck out in the rain and had to spend days warming back up and keeping herself monitored in case she got sick. She never did, she was one tough cookie, but she always had to be sure.
For now, she just watched the two interact, repressing a laugh when the one started talking to no one. She still wasn't completely sure of their motives, especially with other survivors, so she had to stay on guard.
(Mini template for my zombie, I did ask Write and she said it’s all good if I have one lol)
Name: Gabriel
Appearance: 6’3ft tall and weighs like nothing since he was already lanky but now is also rotting lol. He’s hunched over and limp a lot of the time and trips easily bc he has zero motor skills. My boy hasn’t been hitting all of his milestones lol, he’s like a sleep-drunk toddler who cannot speak and wants to eat your flesh. He has thin, black hair that’s cut very choppy to under his ears, and he has long bangs that cover his face. His face is narrow and his cheeks are sunken in, his cheekbone jutting out. He has thin lips and a round, slim nose and foggy blue, small and slanted eyes. Obviously he is rotting away :’) He wears a purple sweater with Big Bird’s face on the front and a pair of black sweatpants and a black beanie. Normally has on a tight, thick makeshift muzzle and a pair of toddler sunglasses(those ones that like connect around the back of the head). His nails are kept nicely trimmed.
I know he’s just a zombie and I’m not against someone eventually killing him, but just ask first so I’m prepared lol
Jesse steps into the RV after them, looking around for where she had put her silencer, as she had been concerned about where she put it ever since she was fighting the zombies.
"yes but it is okay because this RV was loud anyway" she says bluntly, grumpy about the fact.
"you guys can stay here. just don't steal" She says, continuing to look for the silencer.
The RV was decently sized for an RV, a bed in the back taking up all the width of the vehicle and cabinets lining the edges of the ceiling. The interior was a light brownish tan color with stripes here and there.
A small table/shelf was secured to the side of it so you could sit at it to work or to eat. She had a map of the town they were in plastered on window in front of it so nobody could look inside.
Across almost every surface was littered with tools, nails, papers and weapons. Near the front she had a huge cooler with most of her food aside from any canned food she had stored in the cabinets above them.
(Slight gore warning? I'm not sure, just a little bit of graphic detail)
Chernobyl walked through the rain, making her way through the thick forest. Images of her previous group flashed in her mind. How their bodies lay on the floor as the dead had their way with them. The one that stuck with her the most?
It had been a small girl reaching out for her as she crawled her way to Chernobyl, begging to be helped, but the zombie had already taken a hold of her, the wound on her stomach ripping open as she advanced towards Chernobyl, her guts spilling out on the floor as she sobbed. Chernobyl had backed away, not wanting to get close, and in return, it felt like she had betrayed them all. She hadn't helped in the tiniest bit. They had all fought for her, for survival, protected her even, but what had she done? She had turned her back and ran. Now she was stuck in the rain as if karma came to bite her in the ass. Deserved. She thought bitterly as she heard the sounds around her. She had tried not to make any noise but in the forest that was near impossible.
It felt so lonely and cold now that she had no one with her, she felt strangely vulnerable. She didn't mean to think of others as a shield but it had come naturally with her cowardly nature, not being able to fight for herself. Now, what was she going to do? The only thing she managed to get was a submachine gun off of one of the leaders, as they held the heavier weapons, and a military m7 bayonet. Other than that? She was completely useless to whoever she came across. She couldn't fight, she didn't have any supplies on her, and she needed protection.
Chernobyl shook her head. She needed to stop thinking like that. There wasn't always going to be someone there to help her when things went terribly wrong, she needed to start helping herself.
Cass went ahead and sets his back on the kitchen counter and sits down next to him in a chair, getting out a small cloth and a bottle of water, soaking it and cleaning the wound, not wanting to use any chemicals in fear of harming the wound and irritating the skin as well.
"oh it okay ill clean it up. Once we're done with this you need to clean up and get some rest. i have a bedroom upstairs you can use for now" he says calmly, focusing on his wound. He only had one of open, the scarred one shut most of the time so his vision was limited.
Pulling fishing line through the needle and a pair of tweezers, looking at his face as he closed his eyes before he punctures the skin.
The fishing line was just about all he had so it was a lot thicker and it was more painful.
He cringes almost every time he pulls the needle through his irritated flesh, the string tugging the skin to bond each sides of the would together.
"ive got a few questions if that's alright with you" he says calmly "maybe it will offer a distraction to the pain so you don't have to focus on that" he states as he pulls the needle through yet another piece of flesh. "how long have you been on your own?" Cass asks, trying to be as calm as possible. He was rather good with wounds and comforting people but it was a little different when you don't even trust this person yet.
(Imma quote this. Just a heads up, my responses will be delayed (A maybe a little short) because I’m sick)
Jax nodded his head. Resting in a stranger's house? Seemed absurd in the slightest. He winced when the wound was cleaned and looked down at his own clothes as Cass was preparing the needle. "I don’t have a spare set of clothes." He muttered. He watched Cass slip the needle under his skin with the fishing line. FISHING LINE!? This was going to be excruciating. He braced himself using the edge of the table. When the first part of the line went under, he couldn’t help but let out a small yelp. Jax’s arm was on fire, and his brain was telling him to pull away. But he couldn’t. He couldn’t pull away. He needed his wound to be fixed. He squeezed his eyes shut, and his right hand balled into a first. Jax was unsteady, his body shaking. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to answer the stranger's question. He opened one blue eye and laid it upon Cass. "Nine years." He managed to croak out before biting his tongue to suppress another cry of pain.
(Crying for Jax bc that sounds painful as hell)(also, Cinnamon, I hope you feel better soon!)
(oh i hope you get to feeling better!)
Cass shakes his head "oh that's okay. ill give you a temporary set of clothes while i wash yours" he says with a shrug.
He felt bad for having to use fishing line but the only other thing close to that he had was either yarn or sowing thread but it was the cheap, fragile kind that honestly did close to nothing. So fishing line it was.
He carefully tries to finish it up as fast as possible to relief any pain this poor guy was having but this also took time and you couldn't rush something like this. He didn't want to risk messing anything up and hurting him more in the long run.
"i could knock you out if you'd like? its like anesthesia I guess" he offers as he pulls the needle through another small opening in the flesh. Just by looking at it, he could tell this guy wanted nothing more than to pull away. He knew the feeling a little too well.
(sorry this is painfully short I'm in a time crunch rn I'm I just woke up :P
David lays back on his sleeping bag, staring up at the grey ceiling and burnt out florescent lights. The rain continues to beat down, thunder rumbling closer by as lighting begins to spark the dark clouds.
We should head east, towards the next horde. It’s likely there will be supplies or survivors there. Or just zombies, but I prefer the first.
He sits back up, picking up his notebook again to flip through the pages.
“I wonder if we could somehow find a fresh, untouched body to see if they’d react to it after we let it rot for a few days.” He whispers to himself.
We’d be a lot better off it we could figure out exactly what it is that is attracting them.
Ryder strides across the road in the rain, an arm above his head as if it would actually block anything. He heads down the block, the black jar tucked under his arm, and whistles quietly as he strolls along.
Sh!t, the rain is really picking up. I’ll take Gabriel back with me so he doesn’t get soaked.
He pauses by an old gas station that’s long since been abandoned, stepping through the broken glass of the door. In the far corner, over by the restrooms, Gabriel leans against the wall, limp and still. He perks up a little once he hears and smells Ryder, and by ‘perks up’ I mean he starts to grumble and try to stand. His foot is fettered to the nearest shelf with a dog leash so he doesn’t get far, but he reaches forward.
Ryder smiles, dodging a leak from the ceiling. “Heyyy, Vamp. I didn’t think to check for leaks earlier. You all dry?”
He casually approaches him, not worried because of the muzzle on his face and gloves zip-tied onto his hands.
Once he is in arms reach, Gabriel claws at his arm, relentlessly trying to bite him through the muzzle. Ryder only ruffles his hair, bending down and undoing the leash.
“Wanna come up with me? I’m sure David has another test for you anywho.”
A few raindrops leak in through the ceiling above them, steadily dripping on Gabriel’s beanie as Ryder hooks the leash onto the the zip tie on Gabriel’s wrist.
-
Clovis puts a hand on Onyx’s shoulder the moment he sees the littered floor, covered with objects that wouldn’t have an issue poking up through his flimsy sandals.
With all the cabinets along the walls and counters, you’d think this stuff would be put up so it’d be easier to find.
He gives Onyx’s shoulder one firm pat before walking past him into the RV, studying the rest of the room.
“Are you headed anywhere in particular?” He asks.
Getting the message, Onyx stays by the door, a hand flat down on the countertop, fingering with the silencer she’d been looking for that had been setting behind a container on the counter.
The closed in space, especially since it was unfamiliar and pretty darn messy, made him feel uncomfortable. She must not have run out of gas more than a few days ago, otherwise she would have already abandoned the place. It wasn’t exactly safe to hideout in stationary vehicles for long. From the way the RV shifted when Clovis and Jesse moved and the sound of objects clattering together or sliding across the floor/countertops, he could get a basic idea of how big the area was and where the furniture most likely sat. He stares blankly towards his hand.
What is she looking for?
(Thank you :). It's alright that the response was short)
Jax's head bobbed as if he was about to pass out. His was still wary of staying in this man's home. "Alright." When he was in pain, he didn't like to talk. It made everything worse, and he couldn't say anything coherently. His muscles contracted as another line of fishing line passed through his forearm, making it difficult to stitch up the rest of the wound. The wound bled profusely and spilled onto the table. Cass should have noticed that Jax was becoming less unstable. With his right hand, he gripped the side of the chair. He sat up straight, leaning his head against his left shoulder. "I- You- You don't have to. I will— be fine for now." He struggled to get his words out. Jax passed out after one last desperate attempt to stay awake and answer the man's question. His muscles relaxed once more as he slouched in his chair. Jax's grip on the chair loosened as his head and body remained still.
David lays back on his sleeping bag, staring up at the grey ceiling and burnt out florescent lights. The rain continues to beat down, thunder rumbling closer by as lighting begins to spark the dark clouds.
We should head east, towards the next horde. It’s likely there will be supplies or survivors there. Or just zombies, but I prefer the first.
He sits back up, picking up his notebook again to flip through the pages.
“I wonder if we could somehow find a fresh, untouched body to see if they’d react to it after we let it rot for a few days.” He whispers to himself.
We’d be a lot better off it we could figure out exactly what it is that is attracting them.
Ryder strides across the road in the rain, an arm above his head as if it would actually block anything. He heads down the block, the black jar tucked under his arm, and whistles quietly as he strolls along.
Sh!t, the rain is really picking up. I’ll take Gabriel back with me so he doesn’t get soaked.
He pauses by an old gas station that’s long since been abandoned, stepping through the broken glass of the door. In the far corner, over by the restrooms, Gabriel leans against the wall, limp and still. He perks up a little once he hears and smells Ryder, and by ‘perks up’ I mean he starts to grumble and try to stand. His foot is fettered to the nearest shelf with a dog leash so he doesn’t get far, but he reaches forward.
Ryder smiles, dodging a leak from the ceiling. “Heyyy, Vamp. I didn’t think to check for leaks earlier. You all dry?”
He casually approaches him, not worried because of the muzzle on his face and gloves zip-tied onto his hands.
Once he is in arms reach, Gabriel claws at his arm, relentlessly trying to bite him through the muzzle. Ryder only ruffles his hair, bending down and undoing the leash.
“Wanna come up with me? I’m sure David has another test for you anywho.”
A few raindrops leak in through the ceiling above them, steadily dripping on Gabriel’s beanie as Ryder hooks the leash onto the the zip tie on Gabriel’s wrist.
(I love the giant blocks of text that make up this thread. But enough stalling, it's about time these nerds met their newest guest)
Frenchie grew more fearful for her life the more she listened. Oh hell nah! I need to get out, these bastards are gonna kill me and feed me to the zombies. Staying any longer risked capture, she needed to leave now.
So she took a deep breath, grabbing one of her knives and steeling herself for a fight before stepping out of the closet, knife brandished. "Who are you and what have you done with the other survivors?" Her voice was shockingly strong for how nervous she was. Damn tall people and their advantages over her. And what was she talking about with other survivors? It's not like she had a group and she had no evidence other than some very suspicious conversations that even proved that they were experimenting on people. But she had a point and would stick to it, regardless of the risk to her own life or her heart jumping into her throat.
(I love Frenchie lol)(My girl is scared for her life)(Also David is itty bitty haha, he’s 5’3ft and lanky so he’s not much of a threat.)
David jumps out of his skin with a yelp, scrambling to his feet and immediately taking a few steps back. He holds his notebook up as if he could actually do damage by smacking her with it if she approached. “How long were you in there?!” He shouts, not paying any mind to her question. “Good lord, you scared me!” He gives her a good once-over, relaxing a little, “w-wait, did you say ‘other survivors’?”
Does she know what she’s talking about? Did she look through my things? If Ryder could get back here quicker, that'd be nice. I’m not ready for someone to stab me and take all of my research.
.jpg)
