Do not post unless you have had at least one character accepted!
To start: The group-- The group have been on the move for about a month now, and the weather is officially getting warmer. However, food has become more and more scarce, and with the group's luck, they found themselves near a town that is yet to be swept through for supplies. Some characters could be sweeping already, setting up a perimeter, talking and just standing around, etc.
Wanderers-- Doing exactly what their name says - wandering. They could be near the group or not, perhaps finding one another.
The time is around 2 pm, and is currently early June. The current weather forecast is sunny, no clouds in the sky.
I control time skips, time of day, weather, etc.
Format: At least include name, rank, and mentions.
Calvin Borelson | Newcomer | Male | 22 | Mentions: OPEN
He stirred from his sleep with slow cautious movements. First an eye cracking to reveal mischievous blue eyes, though the mischief was gone, replaced by exhaustion. His sandy blonde hair was a mess from sleep, and a lack of care, but he didn't seem to notice, or seem to care, leaving it in a curled mop laying smushed slightly to one side.
Next, an arm moved, lifting to flop over his handsome face with an air of drama to it. He was exhausted and he wanted the world to know it. He sighed after a long breath and heaved himself up out of his "bed". It was really more of a pile of somewhat comfort, he tended to just pile all his belonging on top of the ground in a somewhat comfortable way. His one blanket he packed with him made both the base of the bed as well as the cover for his body. It didn't work quite perfectly, as one of his sides usually remained open to the elements. His pack made the pillow, turned so that what little clothing he possessed lay on top, so as to minimize discomfort. It was far from perfect, but it did the job whenever he had no bed to sleep in, which today, he did not. That night Calvin had been fortunate enough to snag a couch, the other had gotten the beds in the house and other various forms of furniture, but he had managed to lay claim to the couch that wasn't quite long enough for his lengthy frame.
He stood at quite the impressive height of six foot nine, it was more often a curse than a blessing. Harder for him to hide from the things that hunted them, along with any survivors who might seek to harm him, and harder to find a goddamn decent place to sleep that actually fit his build. He couldn't complain about all of it though, it did give him an advantage in a fight, but still, his knees were sore from being scrunched up all night long.
It was later in the day, but he had been on watch that night so he had only gotten to sleep early that morning, hence the reason for him still being asleep at midday. He did not think he had gotten enough sleep, but he didn't dare sleep for much longer, after-all, Calvin was a newcomer and he didn't want to seem like a slacker.
Stretching, he dug around through his pack until he found a bottle of water and a small granola bar, which he ate half of. Hardly a meal but he wanted to save what little rations they had for others who might need it more. He gulped down a quarter of the bottle then stowed it away and made his way towards the front door, peering out the window to what was beyond, not much.
He considered the group he was with, he didn't know them very well and he wasn't quite sure what they were doing or where they were headed, but he figured it had something to do with the girl they towed around with them. She was odd, he hadn't spoken to her yet, but he could tell something about her was different. He didn't ask them about it, he figured at some point when they trusted him enough they would tell him, for now he kept his suspicions to himself.
After a minute of contemplation Calvin made his way further into the house to look for someone else in the group, he was bored and could use someone to chat with, better to get to know the others than remain aloof and possibly hurt his future self from the lack of relations. Anyways, let's be honest, he was a total peoples person. Despite the dire situation they called their life, he liked people, he always had. He was a boisterous, loud, cheerful person by nature, and even their drab surroundings couldn't completely suppress that part of him.
(Not quite sure where they are located so I improvised, I can edit if this isn't correct.)
Louis Lee Jackson | Male | 22 | Gay | Observer | M: The Group (Ind)
The two-floored house Louis chose to enter had an old faded color, washed out from the lack of care, with a porch that was decorated with rocking chairs and a tire swing that hung above the grass. Vines crawled up the sides, windows and glass cracked and shattered, and a quiet, unnerving chime that blew in the still winds from the rotting wooden porch. If it wasn’t still bright out, Louis would have lost his shit and not gone near the crumbling apart house. It was the kind of thing you would expect out of a horror film as the rocking chair let out a soft sigh while it churned back and forth, to and fro. Taking a deep breath, Louis walked up the groaning steps. He needed to get supplies for his group and this place would be a jackpot of stuff.
A little context for the situation at hand: Louis Lee Jackson. Age 22 and identifies as male. Exactly 167.63 cm or just under five foot six. Armed with a bat and ready to fuck. Shit. Up. Louis had been with a group of twelve for what, a year now? They were some of the best people he’s ever known, despite still being pretty shitty at the core of it all. Louis had been traveling across the country ever since he had been kicked out of his home and, long story short, had been selling maps to get by. If Grayson and the gang hadn’t found him, he’d be long dead. Dead twice over probably. Louis didn’t get along with all of them, but they were fun to be around and he owned them his life. This, raiding an abandoned house that abso-fucking-lutely looked like something from one of the movies Louis had to sneak out to watch as a kid, was just one way of repaying what was due.
The door’s hinges hissed open like a terrified cat shying away from a person as Louis’s grip tightened on the wooden bat with sharp nails stabbing through it. It was such an odd sight to see an abandoned home with all the furniture and items just left plainly in the open. It was as if the owners just disappeared and didn’t, you know, die. Even from the entrance of the house, he could see the small teal kitchen. With canned goods in the dusty cabinets, Louis smiled gleefully at his find. He had pretty good luck with this sort of thing, but he was still surprised no one had taken it all. The kitchen was old and the tiles on the wall had fallen after a long amount of time. Louis dropped his duffel bag and baseball bat at his feet before climbing onto the counter and opening the cabinets. Two canned corn packs, three canned carrots, and one can of pickled fruits.
Louis quickly jumped off the counter, cans in hand, and shoved the cans in his bag alongside a few other canned goods and non-perishable items. Louis quickly went to the refrigerator, hoping there would be some more food that was still good that Louis could- Louis’s face drained of color. His gut swirled with discomfort and sickness. His whole body was shaking as he quickly slammed the fridge door shut with a slam. Chicken. Louis hated chicken. It had been rotting in that fridge for God knows how long and the smell. Good fucking God was it trauma inducing. He felt like he would vomit. Louis had a history with chicken that still made him wary of even seeing it let alone that smell.
Louis took some deep breaths before pulling out his map. Louis was addicted to maps and recording the places he’s been always helped clear his mind even if only for a second. Louis pulled a pen whose ink was fading out of his pocket and yanked the cap off with his teeth. He wrote in scribbles that this was a settlement that hadn’t been fully raided yet. Doing this meant that when he sold these maps off to people, they would generally pay higher for a map that showed locations of places to avoid, places with good trade, and places where hoards of sinners gathered. Yeah ‘sinners.’ That’s what Louis called those zombie looking things. That and crawlers. Both very fitting names in his opinion. Either way, even if the maps didn’t sell, it was still good to keep track of the-
The floor just creaked. The floor directly behind him just creaked. The map fell from his hands as he quickly grabbed his spiked bat. On a dime, he turned and spun trying to hit at whatever made that sound blindly but hard. Just as he suspected. It took him a second to process it, but he soon saw a sinner stumble back into the wall sinking to the floor having taken a blow to the lower jaw. The crawler’s skin was a pale, sickly green and fat bulged from under its grease-stained white shirt. Its eyes were missing. The empty sockets of where the eyes once were had blood stains and bugs crawling out from inside its empty skull. The sinner let out a gurgling sound as its head lifted and it-
“No!” Louis hissed, bringing his bat down right on it’s sulking face. “Fuck. Off. You. Bastard!!” Between each word, during each breath, Louis brought the bat down on the crawler, making sure it was dead for good. No more undead shenanigans Adrenaline pumped loudly through his veins and his heart beat louder and louder like barreling drums. Louis's grip on his bat loosened and tightened as he took a long deep breath. Leaning back on the cabinet, he sank to the floor. Running a hand through his hair, Louis briefly closed his eyes. This was not what he had in mind for today.
I’ll look for more supplies in a minute…
After what was absolutely more than a minute and more like five, Louis collected himself and zipped his duffle bag closed. There was more to explore and there probably was a creepy basement somewhere that was calling Louis’s name.
“Man, I hate scoutin’ creepy ass abandoned places and shit…,” Louis grumbled, his Louisiana accent showing through his words as he grumbled sourly. “‘Oh Louis do this! Louis do that! Louis suck my dick!’ Fer Christ’s sake I need a break…” His voice was rough and scratchy, high enough that some might mistake him for a girl but deep enough to pass as a boy. He sounded almost as if he was shouting everytime he spoke but at the same time, his voice was so horse it sounded like someone was strangling his throat constantly.
Hobbling up the stairs on his bad leg, Louis was on high alert with his bat raised in case any other sinners presented themselves. It looked like there were only three rooms on the top floor to investigate so no problem there.
Of course, Louis happened to stumble upon the worst room ever first: a kids room. The walls painted a pink color with faded pony pictures against the wall. A bed with fluffy colorful pillows decorated laid against the wall. Toy dolls filling a small corner of the room in their perfect pink little house. God, it was a sad thing to think that this girl is most likely dead. She probably didn’t see the wave of crawlers coming. No one did, really.
Louis stood alone in the room, not having the energy to shift for more supplies in the room or any of the other rooms as he fiddled nervously with his dog tags that held his sister’s name.
Gripping her machete tightly, the woman examined the empty town. It was so quiet. She could've taken someone from the group to help her, but she always found out that she works faster alone. After this town would be swept, she had wondered what her and the group were going to do next. Her thoughts continued as she walked through the town. Valentina caught sight of a house that looked like it was empty. She did notice the door was slightly open. Putting her machete away and grabbing her pistol, she slowly went inside. Val noticed she was in the kitchen but made her way through every room and crevice, pointing her gun everywhere she turned.
Once she knew for sure nothing was in the house, she began to search it. Although, the house looked very empty, but she looked anyway. Val sighed in frustration when she couldn't find anything useful so she walked out of the house. Valentina sat on the porch and looked down the street. She wondered if all the houses were like that. Cleared to the bone. She would flip if they were. Valentina looked around and noticed her group not far from here. Seems like some of them are probably searching too. She wondered if they would find anything useful.
Kolos ‘Kol’ Seare | M | Bi | Newcomer | 24 | Mentions; Open.
Kol stepped through the doorway into another room, the house so far had been practically worthless. It yielded nothing but furniture and appliances that would do the group no good in the situation. Then again, he had only searched the living room so far. He hoped the kitchen and bathrooms would have more to offer.
In his dominant hand, the right one, he held his army knife. Training left his footsteps relatively silent, a good thing in this day and age. The kitchen looked empty of the ill-fated creatures, so he stepped in and began to search through the pantry and cabinets under the sink. The search left him with some canned food and some bandages. As well as a jug of water. Now that was good. He placed his findings into his bag and began to make his way to where the average layout of a house would put a bathroom. He didn’t care too much about checking the bedrooms, most people didn’t keep things in there.
The bathroom door was closed. He checked around him for a moment before grabbing the door knob and throwing the door open harshly, stopping it right before it would’ve hit the wall inside. In doing so, he basically made sure that the room was empty as he stepped in. He went over to the cabinets under the sink and rummaged through it quickly. No medkit. Maybe this family kept it in the medicine cabinet above the sink instead?
He stood back up and opened the medicine cabinet. Bingo. Medkit and some pill bottles. He’d have to give them to the observers so that they could decide what exactly they were for, but certainly good to take either way. So, he grabbed the goods and put them into his bag. The house might have a second story, he knew that. But, at the same time… It was better to explore the lower levels today and if they stayed longer then he could check the upper floors later.
So with that in mind, he made his way out of the house. He didn’t bother to examine how it looked, that would risk attachment or wishing for things that wouldn’t happen. So instead, he sat on the steps of the porch outside it and kept his eyes scanning for others in the group. He could see one of the residents of the group sitting on a porch not too far from his own. He decided to just stay where he was though, there was no need to try and make himself look good with the group. He just had to prove himself worthy of trust and respect, just had to pull his own weight. The rest would fall into place if he did that, he was sure.
Quinn usually wasn't a morning person, in fact, usually, she slept well into the morning, but when she couldn't sleep at all she'd rise with the sun. Last night had been one of those sleepless nights, her heart hammering for no reason and her mind endlessly full. She couldn't stop thinking, worrying about whatever strange things might happen in this place. She was always nervous around new things like this, whether it was a new place she was sleeping or the new group, even if she'd been with them for little over a month, joining right before they started their travels. She hated nights like that. She hated having her mind so full, yet the only thing that helped her clear her head was reading or taking a walk, and a walk at night was the last thing she was going to do. So, just like every time this happened, she quietly left where she'd been resting, hoping not to disturb the group, and wander around the town.
After a few hours of strolling the streets, wondering what it was like to live here before the zombies, wondering what had happened to the people around here, if any had survived... It helped to imagine being someone else, to imagine the lives and stories of people she wished she could be. She'd found a tree on the outskirts of the town, a sad smile appeared on her lips as she studied the branches. Her brother had taught her how to figure out which trees were best for climbing, and this one was perfect.
Making sure her backpack was still properly on her back, she pulled herself into the tree, shaking the branches and making a bit more sound than she would have liked, but there weren't any zombies around, so she should be fine. Finding a group of thicker branches, she sat down, took off her pack, and leaned back on the trunk.
She knew she should be looking for zombies or scouting out houses, watching out for the group and all... usually she did her part. She wanted to show that she was there to help out and be a member, and not just a tag along. She couldn't describe how releaved she'd felt when she found the group and was allowed to stay with them, yet today, she had no energy. She missed having music and a hoard of books to help her, but the best she could do was scour the few libraries she found and draw in her sketchbooks.
Quinn sighed and looked through the green leaves at the sky, "Whatever happened to normal?" she murmured, pulling her current sketchbook and a pencil out of her pack, and started scribbling. She had no idea what she was drawing, she just needed to draw. The tree was safe enough from whatever dangers were around, and there was no music to tune out the world.
Atlas Pan Booker | Male | Hunter | M: Calvin Borelson
Atlas had chosen to inhabit a house that was just off main street and had a large oak tree at the front of the fenced-in yard. The tree’s branches desperately needed to be sawed off soon as it threatened to lean against the house. The gate’s white paint was chipped and raggedy and the gate hung off its hinges as if a monster had plowed through it. And it probably had.
The fenced in yard was at lost half-an-acre and an unkept chestnut skewbald Irish Sport Horse stood out in the front yard, under the shade of the overgrown oak. He munched lazily on the wild grass, occasionally swatting flies away with his long, whip-like tail. He was a gentle looking creature, despite his overgrown hooves and his constantly munching teeth. He was saddled and bridled, but the leather seat was loosened so that the animal wouldn’t be uneededly uncomfortable. He wasn’t tied up, but was free in the little yard. In truth, he could easily jump it, but why would he? It held plenty of grass (for now), besides his master was just inside the cottage-like house.
Speaking of which, his master was currently snoring like an old man. He lounged around on a comfortable queen-sized bed. Despite the mattress was in horrible condition, it had been one of the best sleeps he had ever slept in the past couple months. He needed that nap. He snorted when he breathed in a gnat, which woke him up. The gnat was released and Atlas was unsure of what happened. He immediately searched outside the window where he had a view of the front yard. Good, he thought, Wyn’s okay. In the past he had woken up to a frantic horse fighting a hungry group of savage dogs. Atlas gained a couple of pelts from that night and he’s used them for several different occasions.
Atlas then crawled out of the bed with a tired yawn. He had no need to dress himself because he always slept in his dark-green-mud-stained-long-sleeved-shirt and camouflage pants. He used to care about what others thought about his wrinkled, unclean clothes but now he didn’t care anymore. Besides, it seemed to be in style. He also didn’t bother with any sort of grooming, he was happy for once that he wasn’t able to grow any facial hair. Before the apocalypse he was disgusted that the only hair on his face were his eyebrows and lashes. He shoved his sock-covered feet into a pair of old, rubber-soled work boots. Then he reached for his unstrung recurve bow and quiver of thirty-one arrows. Sure his bow was unstrung, but keeping it strung would reduce the bow’s strength and he wanted it to last as long as possible. So he learned how to string it quickly without using a stringer but rather by just using his body. It was simple really, you just step in between the bow and string and aligned one of the recurve limbs around your ankle. Then pushed away from yourself the other limb while you pulled the string to the second limb’s notch.
He also picked up his bag that was weighed heavily with canned goods. Most of it being tomato soup and green beans. The rest of the food was spoiled. He did find a thirteen foot long piece of hemp rope in the garage and a dog leash. He found that the shallow dog bowls wouldn’t be useful. Obviously, he had already searched the house and found what he could find useful. He was on his way into the last room which just so happened to be the bedroom. The bed looked so comfy so he just sat on it after unstringing his bow, y’know keep it in good shape. Then he laid down on one of the pillows, it felt nice to have something that is not a saddle under his head. Then something happened and it was an hour later.
He left the house with his possessions. Instead of tightening the horse’s girth and mounting, he just led him over across the street where the next house stood. It wasn’t much of a “house” so to speak. More like a shed or a colonial one-room-house.
“I believe this will be quick.” Atlas told his companion whose muzzle was already snuffling the thin, patchy clover.
Indeed this search was fairly quick and the only thing it had to offer was a package of coffee grounds, ground cumin seasoning and a ceramic mug. He was excited about the seasoning because it would hopefully make his prey all the more tasteful. He’d have to give it to the cooks.
He entered the next house over and heard footsteps. They sounded like the belonged to a large creature. He saw a shadow and it showed a monstrous being that had to be at least six feet tall. He drew his bow and prepared himself for a fight. He could feel his breathing growing shallow and his heart’s rabid beating reminded him of a rabbit’s. He turned into the hall where he had seen the shadow appear and he realized that it was not a human-sucking beast but a human. He kept his bow at full draw while he tried to remember who this was as there had been some newcomers recently. Then it dawned on him. Instead of scouring his brain like he was doing, he should ask because it was easier. Duh.
Looking around her, Valentina was surprised she couldn't see any of those...creatures...nearby. Her mind kept shifting to when she was with her family. She watched her mom get eaten by those assholes. Not too long after, her dad killed himself so he wouldn't turn into one. So it was just Val and her siblings. Soon they got separated and Valentina hasn't seen them since. She wonders if they are even alive. Either way, Val is with a new group that has all of her loyalty. She would practically sacrifice herself for this group. And that's not something many people could say.
Reaching in her pocket, she pulled out the dagger. Her father gave it to her as a gift for her 18th birthday. He even customized the case. She's kept it with her for so long and doesn't ever plan on using it. Val starts examining it and twirling it before sliding it back in her pocket. With a sigh, Valentina stands to her feet and looks around. She notices another resident sitting on a porch, much like she had been doing. Val hasn't seen this persons face around too much so she couldn't capture what his name was. He must've been new to the group.
Val walked over to him, hands in her pocket. She sat next to him on the porch and turned her head.
"Hey, you're new, right?" She asked just to make sure.
"I'm Valentina. And you?" Typically, Val doesn't just walk up to a stranger and start talking to them. But since he is in the group with her, she might as well make acquaintances, and maybe even a few friends. She always felt weird about the newcomers. She created scenarios about what if they backstab the group. Or report back to some other group on what we are doing. But so far they haven't felt with that, so it gave Val a chance to calm down about it.
Val knew there were a few other newcomers but this man was the first one she'd seen. As she awaited his answer, she looked around and traced her eyes to the group. Still searching. Val has been searching all morning and still found nothing useful. Though the group might find something, who knows? Maybe somebody just cleared the houses she was going through. Though that'd be unlucky on her part.
Zephyr Eliades | Loner | M: Open, Fodder Character
Recollection 1 It was a cold November night, the trees were barren of leaves and the Breeze had significantly cooled as winter neared around the corner. His mother was looking frailer everyday, with her sunken eyes, and protruding cheekbones. What had once been a youthful face, full of life and happiness, was now terribly aged, despite only being two years apart from those times. Her eyes, previously vibrant, now blankly stared ahead as she aimlessly trudged through the clearing. Only coming to a stop to glance over her shoulder at her son who in turn returned a reassuring smile in her direction. "I'll be fine, mother." He sighed, trying to hide his uncertainty behind a lopsided smile as his eyes swept over the rushing currents before them.
Merely offering a meek nod in response, Da-eun hesitantly stepped into the waters frigid surface. Her legs almost instantly sinking into it as she proceeded to move across the choppy water. Her small frame being thrashed around a bit as she struggled to remain afloat, but despite her weakened state, she continued to fight the currents. "Zephyr, please. The quicker we get this over with, the faster we'll catch up to them." She called out coarsely, her voice barely audible over the currents that crashed into the rocks below. Her words had been like poison against his skin. Catch up? "They abandoned us." Zephyr muttered under his breath, before slowly following after his mother. His steps a lot more hesitant than hers as he slowly worked his way through the unforgiving water. "We have to stop. This... this idea, that they'll take us back.. it's pointless. It's not going to happen." In his protests, Zephyr had momentarily become unaware of the danger brewing just beneath his foot. Unbeknownst to both him and his mother, a small hoard of the infected had remained at rest underneath the currents from the previous years winter. Only the vibrations of zephyrs protests, shaking them from their slumber as they reached and latched onto his pant leg. It was only a matter of seconds before he had disappeared under the waters surface. The burning of his lungs accumulating as seconds stretched to minutes, his cries inaudible as water continued to rush into his mouth and eyes.
End of Recollection 1
Zephyr awoke in a cold sweat, eyes narrowed down to the point his iris only resembled a thin slit, and chest repeatedly rising and falling in a uneven pattern of breathing. “Mother—“ He huffed, struggling to get the words off his chest, but in his frenzied state it was close to impossible, as he was still intent on his tormented recollection. Instead, he brought his palm to his face and shielded his eyes from the sunlight that protruded through the makeshift lean-to he called home; It was all a vain attempt to keep the tears from coming. They came anyways. Shedded in spite of the weakening affect.
It felt like an eon before he successfully managed to get out of his worn sleeping bag. Every waking moment was a painful reminder he had lived despite having been fated to die that day. Almost forcing himself over to the barrel of water, Zephyr glanced at his distorted appearance. The scar had long healed, but the resentment still remained. Despite attempting to rinse the displeasure from his face, he still couldn't help but appear disoriented as a woman of tall stature walked into view. Her eyes closely resembled that of a cat as she eyed him up and down, like a predator stalking its prey, before giving off a taunting grin. "Whats got ya looking so disheveled? Don't tell me that last business I sent you on has finally gotten to you?" She smirked, pulling over a log to sit as she overlooked the small town below. "It seems that group we've had our eyes for some time now is finally gonna hunker down." Without so much of a second glance over in Zephyr's direction, she inhaled sharply and stood once again. "It's your job to figure out where they'll be staying." She paused to look over at her disciple, who was now casting his Steele gaze over the same landmark. "Gain their trust, gather information, and report to us within three months. We cannot afford another mishap like last time. You know the consequences." Upon bestowing her lighthearted threat, she walked over and simply offered him a parting pat on the back before gathering her belongings and quickly dispersing into the thick undergrowths behind them.
Zephyr was an opportunist. He knew an opportunity when he saw one. Whether it manifested itself as a human, or an object, he would easily recognize it and readily sweep it into his welcoming grasp. That evening, the young man couldn't help but stop and notice the 'rambunctious' crowd that had gathered in the town at the bottom of the hill he currently had found himself standing on. Despite his partners brief and unpleasant visit, he couldn't help but feel revealed knowing there were still other people besides from the ones he currently found himself acquainting himself with. Before departing with his lance, Zephyr took it upon himself to dispose of his lean-to and any signs of previous inhabitant, before pulling the black silk cover and bringing it over half of his face to shield the ugly scar creeping into his eye.
It didn't take him long to reach the bottom of the hill, and start to rummaging through one of the vacant homes. Purposely making it as sloppy and loud as possible as he opened the cabinets and emptied them of their contents, before moving upstairs and carelessly running into one of the lingering undead. "Fuck-" He growled as he was sent tumbling down the stairs with the groaning creature that had been attempting to tear into his throat at just inches away, the only barrier between them his gloved hands as they worked it's jaws apart.
Eden Milos Nedbalek - Male - Outsider - Mentions: Louis
Blood stained Eden's fingers, dripping down the length of his index to stain the ground he was crouched over. He watched with a dull stare as the crimson liquid came down, down, down from his face and onto his hand, draped in the blood-soaked bandages that'd previously been covering his wound.
It wasn't like he was letting himself bleed on purpose. No, his pause had come from the fact that he was quite preoccupied with his thoughts; more specifically, the fact that he was probably just a little bit fucked. It was that position that led him here, kneeling beside a tree and staring down at his hands, one with the old bandages that were now collecting even more blood thanks to the position he was in and the other with the very last of his clean ones. Oh, yes, he was fucked — bandages were a precious commodity and a rarity at that, and considering the gigantic problem etched into his face, they were a rarity he desperately needed.
Eden let out a sigh and shifted as to plop onto the ground, sitting with one leg propped up and the other crossed as he pulled out a small bottle from his pocket. Alcohol. It was a good thing the shit didn’t expire (tastes nasty, though), considering it was all he had for cleaning out the wound. Placing the bottle beside him and taking out his swiss army knife, he took out the blade and quickly slashed off a bit of his sleeve, then picked up the bottle again and took off the cap with his mouth. He poured a bit onto the fabric (it was finished now, too. go figure) and stared at the cloth for a minute before bringing it up to his face and dabbing his wound, hissing out a kkhhhhhh— at the pain that shot through him. He wasn’t sure whether he had to clean it out every time he changed his bandages or just the first, but it was better safe than sorry. Still, he couldn’t help but be relieved that he really couldn’t do it again even if he wanted to.
After an especially bad sting, he dropped the cloth to the floor. Deciding that that was probably enough, anyway, he picked up the last of his bandages and wrapped his wound (messily, but to be entirely fair, he couldn’t see what he was doing at all.)
Now finished, he stood up, discarding the finished roll and re-pocketing the glass bottle into his parka, as he didn’t want to risk it breaking inside one of the pockets of his pants. Might be useful for smashing over someone’s head later, who knows?
Eden spared one more glance to the empty piece of cardboard that’d once held his bandages. He had to go on a supply run, then; rare as they might be, he definitely needed at least something to dress his wound when these ones got too bloodied. He didn’t know what the fuck went through the heads of those zombies at any given time, but he didn’t want to risk knowing if they were attracted to the sight of a wounded victim. Or blood, for that matter, but — glancing at his blood-soaked hands and clothes — that bridge was already burnt a long time ago.
Sighing, he put his knife back in his pocket and started to walk. He walked for a while. Maybe about 20 minutes or so of aimless meandering, avoiding any loud sounds with a thousand-yard stare comparable to that of the zombies (they were just that to him. Zombies. Nothing more, nothing less) he heard prowling about nearby, searching for sustenance that’d eventually lead them to have to devour each other and kill themselves along with it. Maybe it was a bittersweet ending, then; a dead silent world after years of chaos. He’d be dead by then, though, so what did it matter to him?
Eventually, after a long while of walking, he came to idle in front of a house. It looked like a set for a horror movie, maybe a later Resident Evil game — a rotting thing that’d probably once been homey, an empty shell that only now held the ghost-like tinkling of chimes.
He didn’t bother to think about it for more than two seconds.
Eden strode up to the doorway and kicked open the door, taking immense satisfaction hearing the flimsy wood give way under his boot and splinter against the wall. He gave a hum of satisfaction as he lowered his foot and walked in, giving the place a once-over. He was lucky, the ruckus he made wouldn’t cause much of an issue — the zombies seemed to have long abandoned the place save for one who was coming towards him at a snail’s pace and some shuffling coming from upstairs. The house was pretty much in the middle of nowhere, anyhow, so he wasn’t surprised. The one zombie there seemed starved, so he didn’t worry about it too much; he simply took his axe from his belt and strode past the creature, giving it one strike to the head as he came close and it was over.
Eden put his axe back to its rightful place, heading over to the kitchen and briefly looking through the cabinets.
Empty. Empty. Expired. Empty. Damn, someone must’ve gotten to this place before him. He crouched down to the floor, opening up the lower cabinets, and mainly found spiderwebs and a lone can of beans.
Beans pocketed, he stood and headed over to the fridge and was immediately hit with a hot wave of rot upon opening it. He waved his hand in front of his face (not that it did much), managing to get used to the stench quickly enough to be able to shuffle through the items. Surprisingly, it was mostly unlooted; he managed to find quite a bit of beans and beef jerky before he slammed the door shut.
He did a brief once-over of the rest of the floor, finding some expired migraine medicine and not much else. Upon completion, he headed towards the staircase to head upstairs (though not before destroying a cabinet or two), then paused.
That shuffling. It… wasn’t zombie-like.
Eden glanced down for a moment and got an idea.
Taking his axe from his belt again, Eden walked upstairs, slamming the door open with the same force he opened the front one. He let the head of his weapon fall to the floor with a loud thud and walked forward with a slow, steady stride. The sound of metal dragging against rotten wood was that akin to nails on a chalkboard as the man strolled through the room, head lowered the whole time. His boots echoed against the walls of the empty house, a steady tap, tap, tap as he approached the man standing amidst the childish surroundings, regarding him coldly. Blood-soaked clothes, weapon, hands and dead eyes — he was sure he was a sight to behold.
Eden slowed to a halt as he saw a flash of white. It must have dislodged when he slammed his axe into the ground, he figured as he watched the roll of bandages tumble to his feet. Nonchalantly, he came down on one knee in order to grasp the bandages between bloodied fingers, standing in order to turn it over in his hand as he slung the axe over his shoulder. Head still turned toward the bandages, he glanced over to the man across from him. He spoke, tone just as nonchalant as his movements.