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Z End Of Us // ThreadFebruary 17, 2022 03:23 PM


Former Pack

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Posts: 0
#2713655
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Z End Of Us // Thread

lets start the timer to see how fast this is seen:

5 seconds ; Glacialis

Only those who have been accepted are allowed to post here.

Signups

Discussion

Quick Overview

The apocalypse is going to start with your character in the airport. They can be in a plane, coming home from a flight, in the restrooms, it doesn't matter. Your character does not have any knowledge of the virus. The first infected will at the gate furthest from the center of the waiting room.

In this world, people don't have the concept of "zombie" so come up with unique names for them. Your character won't know how to kill one, and will see them as humans still. I will say in the discussion when there are updates to the time/surroundings.

More questions will be answered in discussion.

Characters

.

FEMALES

Alyssia Reeves | 20 | F | Hell Bound | Pg.1

Reyes D. Collin | 23 | F | Kämpa | Pg.2

Roxanne Monroe | 20 | F | Tenebris Umbra | Pg.2

Aurora Solus | 16 | F | Glacialis | Pg.2

Marigold Arvern | 17 | F | Skeptical | Pg.6

Marie Vandenburg | 20 | F | Sirris | Pg.7

Elloise | 19 | F | Mist Fall Wolves | Pg.7

MALES

Cassian Alaric | 18 | M | Xuân | Pg.4

Khufu Carabella | 16 | M | ThisIsAPackName | Pg.4

Jabari Algarotti | 34 | M | SirFroggington | Pg.5

Robert Kevin Wiles | 23 | M | Argos | Pg.5

Quill Andar Penn | 16 | M | Ebanon | Pg.6


Setting

Morning ; 6am. EAS is being broadcasted. The characters have until 7am to get out of the airport and to the camp with the protection of darkness. They likely won't make it to the camp before sunrise.

The fire alarm system has been torn out due to the zombies thrashing at the source. The ringing has shut off along with the water extinguishers.

~ Soon: ... ~

* be sure to check up on the setting every now and again *


Current goal

Get to the coordinates.

- 700 words minimum per post -

Use some kind of header, these are the basics:

Name | Age | Gender | Mentions:


Edited at April 14, 2022 08:59 AM by Kämpa
Z End Of Us // ThreadFebruary 17, 2022 03:47 PM


Former Pack

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#2713683
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Ava Shepherd || 19 Years || Female || Mentions: Open

Tired. Oh, so tired-

The airport in California was crowded, as usual. God. In the middle of it, a young woman was attempting to walk through it to get out of the airport, and get a ride to the nearest hotel. She was tired, and exhausted. The woman wasn't a fan of flying, and sometimes- no, it always made her feel uneasy and sick. In doing so, it also kept her awake, for god knows how many hours. She needed to sit down, and take a breather, unfortunately, the hoard of people weren't helping her situation in the least. Well, it wasn't a hoard of people... but then again, she is dramatic at times. Every person that shoved past her, and brushed up against her hands, shoulders- she had an urge to just about sucker punch each and every one of them until their lights went out. Gritting her teeth, and clenching her fists, there was only one way she could calm herself down and get out of this situation without the security's helping hand. Jamming to some music.

Reaching into her back jean pocket, her fingers grabbed ahold of her phone, and a pair of black earbuds. Just before she could take them out, she found a split in the crowd of people, and quickly, the woman slipped through it, making her way to the wall. As she jogged through the tightening strip of space, she realized she was going a bit faster than what she should have been, and knowing she was going to collide with the wall, she twisted her body sideways, and winced as her shoulders made contact with the wall, creating a deep thudding sound. First, her shoulders, then her hips. Wincing, she glanced around to make sure no one heard it. It was a 15% chance probability that anyone could hear it with all this noise.

As expected, no one looked in her direction or even acknowledged her, so she took that chance to unlock her phone. Reaching back into her back pocket, her fingers grabbing a hold of a rectangular device, she took it out, placing it into her other hand, and reached back again to grab a wire-like cord, yanking it out of her back pocket. Connecting the earbuds to the phone, the woman placed an earbud into her left ear, and opened the device, entering the password and the facial recognition. Scanning through her apps, the woman clicked onto one, called "Spotify." A green background, and a black wifi-like symbol as the opening icon. Scrolling through the playlists, she clicked one of her most liked, and began playing the music.

Taking in a few deep breaths, relieved she could finally be in a spot where she wasn't constantly brushed up against or touched. Turning her body around, her back against the wall, and her right leg propped up, her boot flat against the wall, and using her left leg to support her, she took in another deep breath, and closed her tired eyes.

It didn't take long until Ava could feel eyes watching her with disgusted faces. She opened an eye, then the other, her blue electric eyes scanning the moving herds of people in front of her. She saw one woman cover her childs eyes as they walked past her, and Ava only responded by flipping the mother other, glaring daggers as her until she was no longer visible. It was her outfit, wasn't it? What, its not like she's a god damn hooker. Fucking people.

Her outfit consisted of a white crop-top, her shoulders exposed, along with her under straps. Draped underneath her shoulders, and back, her black baggy swear was hanging off of her, small tears here and there along her sleeves. Her jeans were a nice dark blue, a tear or two above her knees, but it barely shown any skin, most of it was white, loose threads. There was nothing wrong with her outfit. She loved it in fact. Yes, her shoulders, neck, and stomach were exposed for the world to see, but hiding it from a child like its some felony? Fucking crazies.

Shaking her head, and huffing, Ava stood up straight, looking around. What time was it? Taking her phone out of her side pocket, she glanced at the time, 6PM. She should probably grab ahold of her luggage, first.. restroom break.

Walking along the walls, following the signs that mentioned to wear the restrooms would be, Ava took a left here, and a right there, eventually making her way past a few shops. Oo.. coffee- that.. that looked really good right now- no. No, she'd get one after the break.

Finding the women's restroom, Ava walked in.

Taking out her earbuds, she wrapped them around her phone in a vertical manner, and tucked them quickly into her back pocket, entering one of the stalls.

Shortly after, Ava had walked out, making her way to the sinks, turning the lever, hot water, spewing out of the faucet. All was fine, as she rubbed her hands with soap repeatedly, ducking them under water. Until she had a sick feeling in her gut. Not, actually sick, like she was going to throw-up, and not a sick feeling as if he stomach was starving. Even though she was craving some coffee now- no, she felt.. she didn't know how to feel. As if, something was in the air- nah. It was nothing. Probably the smell of the restrooms getting to her. After finishing up, she grabbed ahold of some paper towels, rubbing it along her hands and wrists, drying herself up.

Reaching back into her pocket, the one opposite of the pocket holding her phone, she sifted around, feeling how many dollars she had at the moment. She didn't want to take them out and have someone snatch them out from her hands, no. She'd kill someone if that were to happen. Then court, jail-time, etc. etc. ~

Last time she remembered, she had 4 or so 20s.. so she had plenty enough to buy some snacks and drinks. Small ones though, to wolf down, and get outta there. Huh.. solid plan, about to buy herself some snacks and drinks, wolf em' down, grab her luggage, grab a taxi, and hit the closest hotel.

Heh, seems tonight wasn't going to be so bad afterall.

Z End Of Us // ThreadFebruary 17, 2022 03:51 PM


Former Pack

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Aurora Grace Solus | 16 | Female | M: Open

A pale, white-skinned girl with long, glossy blonde hair that went down farther than her waist tapped her foot against the shining marble floor of the airport. She sat in a room on one of many chairs among numerous other people, listening intently for her flight to be called. She didn’t want to so much as be a minute late to get onto her plane, otherwise her mother would all but kill her. Her dull gray eyes which were devoid of any emotion but absolute ennui flickered from place to place. They were examining the large building that the girl was in, which was mostly composed of a shiny white material that looked much like marble. Aurora Grace Solus was only sixteen, yet she'd been waiting hours for this seemingly non-existent plane to arrive due to her mother, who’d insisted that they come early for a reason that Aurora had forgotten already.

But, then, the young teenager’s gaze then fell upon a man who’d been pushed to the ground, his personal belongings scattered on the cold, hard floor next to him. The man looked rather disheartened as he rushed to gather his stuff, a lady trampling over some of the items with a phone to her ear. She didn’t even bother apologizing, just looked at the man in an emotion that Aurora found difficult to read. But it looked like disgust more than anything. She hoped that the woman missed her flight, or at least got what was coming to her

Aurora wasn’t going to help the guy, either, of course, but she just hoped that she wouldn’t end up like the man who’d basically just been trampled upon. What came to her attention was that the airport was much busier than previous times that she’d been there, with way too many people and way too little space. Though, it wasn’t quite enough to be considered a sea of people. The teen let out a sigh, diverting her attention away from how damn packed this place was before taking a glance at her brand-new cellphone. Her eyes, still as unexpressionate as earlier, were glued to her phone for a moment before she finally put the small device away in her pocket. From what the time was saying, it’d be a while before Aurora’s flight arrived. The girl let out another sigh which was this time edged with annoyance. She was bored out of her mind and her plane would never come.

Then, drowning out the chatter of the crowd was the roar of a plane taking off, soaring into the sky with what definitely couldn’t be defined as grace or elegance. Aurora turned around slowly, gazing out of the window now in front of her to watch the large white vehicle depart from the airport. She observed as the planes came and went, with nothing better to do than watch them. In fact, she felt like looking at the ugly, blinding white machines was already starting to degrade her vision. The sixteen-year old was no engineer, but, couldn’t whoever had created planes designed them to look less hideous? How in the hell had Aurora reached the point where she was so damn bored that she was criticizing how an airplane looked, anyways?

Aurora groaned, miserable. She’d decided that rather than staring at the massive yet unsightly planes that were outside, she’d find something better to do. But, there was really nothing to do here in this airport. Nothing exciting to see, nowhere to go but to sit down in a chair, waiting for her flight to be called. She tried to use her imagination in an attempt to think of something to sate her boredom, but, to absolutely no avail. The girl’s mother had supposedly gone to one of the many shops in the airport, but for what reason Aurora was unsure of. Hadn’t they already packed everything that they needed to travel?

Whatever. It wasn’t like Aurora cared. In truth, the teen was glad that her mother had gone off, as she didn’t have to hear that annoying voice bossing her around at every turn. The woman had told her daughter to stay where she was while she “ran a few errands,” but Aurora wasn’t going to just sit here forever. This was a chance to spite her irritating mother that she wasn’t going to just pass by. Besides, she really had to go to the bathroom. Her mother couldn’t yell at her for going to the bathroom. But, then again, her mother managed to find an excuse to yell at her for everything.

A slightly devilish smirk on her face, Aurora heaved herself off of the chair and to her feet. She checked that her short yet lethal knife which she carried around with her in case of an emergency was still in its sheath, and, thankfully it was. But, as the girl looked at the massive cluster of people in front of her, she hesitated a bit. The crowd seemed to stretch through the whole airport as far as Aurora could see. There were more people than she’d previously cared to look. Biting her lips, the teen could feel the constant and overwhelming social anxiety that she struggled with start to tighten its grip around her. And with that anxiety came terror. Terror of people.

But with each growing moment, Aurora also thought of how damn badly she had to go to the bathroom.

With a yawn that harbored more anxiety in it than exhaustion, the teenager walked into the crowd, but not before she took her phone out and plugged a pair of earbuds in, turning on some rather loud music to listen to. It was a desperate attempt for the girl to focus on something other than the people around her, turning the noise up high enough so that she couldn’t hear the yells or chatter of the mass. But not even that was able to soothe her nerves. Aurora rushed to make her way through the waiting room, doing her best to stay out of other peoples’ ways.

It took a minute, but with a little looking around and a lot of confusion, the sixteen-year old found the sign indicating where the restrooms were located. The door to the women's restroom was painted crimson, which, in Aurora’s mind, looked awful against the rest of the airport’s shining white interior. But, regardless of how poor the airport’s choice of color was, the girl opened the door to the women’s restroom. To her surprise, the space was empty, with not one person among the long row of stalls that lined the room.

Aurora sighed. Maybe her anxiety would finally give it a rest now.

Z End Of Us // ThreadFebruary 17, 2022 04:06 PM


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Kine Asher Vincent | 26 | M | M: Open

The sun kissed his caramel complexion and his dark pupils adjusted to the new found light of the fiery, yellow ball that drifted over the world as he had just stepped off of the humongous, complex, silver winged vehicle. He started descending down the bright, very hot to the touch, metal stairs. All while ignoring the commotion that was taking place around himself at the runway. Then he was pushed side ways by another traveling person and ended up hitting his now, jolting with pain, arm on the burning railing. It was currently the late evening and the sun would set in the next hour or two. Kine found the sun was magnificent as it shone brighter then any other time of day. The evening was, with no question, the most beautiful time of day.

Kine was overjoyed to be off the cramped airplane, and if you were wondering it wasn’t cramped as the narrow airplane seemed unusually empty. Yet he was confined beside someone. Not to mention the plane was magnificently loud due to the people aboard and the deafening motor sounds. As there was about 21 out of about 40 people aboard the large mechanical machine not including himself. The majority of people had been yelling over the roaring engine to be heard, if they weren’t it was just a bunch of un-needed chit chat in his opinion. This wasn’t something he enjoyed. No, Kine was one who valued peace, and quiet especially when traveling. This travel was the exact opposite, he was not exceptionally happy about it.

His chestnut eyes filled with a mysterious source had lingered to his phone screen, as realized he had received a text from his brother. Everything around the airport seemed normal or as normal as it got at a airport. Just a normal splendid afternoon with people doing they’re usual annoying to hell chitchat. All while a bit of screeching could be heard in the distance or atleast that’s all he had noticed so far. His soft beige fingers traced the phone case, as his thumbs callus pressed the text icon, and typed in his passcode. After completing that he then proceeded in reading the text. *Hope you made it home safe, and hot head over here said go burn in hell.* That was the text his younger brother, Cole had sent him. Yep such a pleasant welcome when he got back from his vacation with his brother, and closest friends. In case you were wondering that was sarcasm on his behalf. *Yeah, and tell him he’ll have to wait years before I join him.* Kine’s beige thumb pressed all the correct letters, then he pressed send, before his pointer finger wavered over the off button, and applied a soft amount of pressure to press the off button. That’s when he started to make his way to the humongous terminal building. The terminal building was mostly Pearl-white brick walls from the outside and a few glass panes here and there. He soon let out a long, annoyed sigh, his voice being hoarse from the lack of water he had received.

He noticed a few kids doing a group huddle. To him most people, but mostly kids these days, we’re usually talking out a mischievous plan or prank that would end up failing. And just annoy security, and make they’re parents mad as hell. To him it seemed people had nothing better to do these days, other then be mischievous, rotten thieves, and waste their lives causing mischief. Which was never pleasant to anyone. Let alone Kine. Much to his dismay, he noticed the usual yelling, chitchat coming from the people around him.

He started to hum to the tune of a song he had memorized years back. That little thing he did made life seem so much more peaceful then it truly was. He slid his phone into the back pockets of his worn out navy jeans. As he was about to make his way to the baggage carousel to go grab his luggage. He was happy at the thought of being able to listen to some of his favorite artists through his head phones and zone out from the cause of his stress. The substantial world.

As he started into the terminal building one moment the sun’s bright, powerful rays were trying to bake him alive, and the next he enters the terminal building it seemed to be as cold as a freezer made out of dry ice. Nevertheless he greatly enjoyed the outside weather, so he wasn’t happy about the change in temperature. Kine wore a shadow black t-shirt, a howling wolf logo In printed on the shirt, and worn out navy jeans that had a few rips on the left knee cap, and lower right leg. So really he should feel better inside then outside due to the hot weather? Which was definitely not the cause for him, he crossed his arms due to this. The first thing he had noticed was that the station was packed with people, but then again he had yet to enter the gates. He guessed it would be the most crowded in the gates, but he had to pass it to get to the baggage carousel.

He had previously lived most of his stellar years with his friends in Canada, and trying to help out the city he lived in, and sure it was freezing where they lived in the city, but this city was up in the mountains. The sun was almost always out. Thats when something in his gut told him to turn around and high tail it back to his place. Did he think anything of this gut feeling? Generally he would, but he wouldn’t before getting his luggage. Plus California was usually quiet. He says that just because he is never in the city’s, and can only be found out in the forest or maybe a local grocery store. As he lives on the outskirts of town, but he’s fine with that.

A now ice cold caramel complexion hand slides through Kine’s obsidian colored hair, which felt slick, straight and a bit wiry to the touch. His hair is a bit thick but at the same time smooth and to add to that multiple wiry strands had been falling in his face and tickling his warm sepia complexion. Due to having it pulled up in a tight, glossy bun for so long it was now more messy then it ever was tight. Kine had mysterious, yet beautiful hickory eyes that glistened in the suns powerful, fiery rays.

Kine was someone who seemed and was always on high alert, as he found that the people closest to him can be worse than strangers. And that’s why it was hard for him to trust, yes he was able to trust easier now after being with his friends for so long. And he had grown very close to them, so much so that it was like all eleven of them were a big family in a since. Blood or not it didn’t matter to him.

He was more then capable to take down a few No-goods. As he had done it for years now and yes, he had been sent to jail multiple times because of what he did. But he truly was just helping the city out, as there were, and like there are in almost any other city out there. There are many thugs who get away with anything and that isn’t something Kine is to keen on. He’s learned that the police can’t always be trusted to get the job done. But that was just his opinion, and he didn’t really care who agreed or disagreed with his opinions. Just as long as they don’t try to change his opinions. As he will not go against his beliefs, and he never plans to.

Z End Of Us // ThreadFebruary 17, 2022 04:13 PM


Tenebris Umbra

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Posts: 9100
#2713711
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Roxanne
Twenty || Female || Mentions: Open

The echo of a hand connecting with metal could be heard, even among the bustling crowd. Thump, it went. Thump, thump. The noise continued, repeating four or five times before being drowned out by a passing family, whose children screamed and wailed because they couldn't have a candy bar. It was understandable. Roxanne was currently struggling with the same issue.

Her figure faced a tall vending machine, its interior stocked with various types of junk food. One thing was all the woman wanted. Just one. So imagine her frustration as she watched the machine suck in her money, only to break down and refuse to give her what she paid for. A normal being may have given up or called somebody to assist them, but you see, Roxanne was stubborn. She wanted the chocolate that she paid for, so she did not leave it, nor did she call for help.

She began hitting it.

It begun with a small smack against the glass, trying to knock her food of choice off of the rack. That, of course, failed. So, she moved onto the next step, which included slamming the sides with her fists. On she hit it, her various rings connecting with the cold metal. A painful bruise would form upon her hands later, but in the given moment, Roxanne didn't care. All she wanted was what she paid for.

When that failed to work, she took both of her hands on either side of the machine and began shaking it. On she shook, the entire thing slamming against the wall and floor. She was determined. She refused to be scammed like this. When that, too, failed, Roxanne kicked it with her foot, finally, finally managing to dislodge the candy. She watched as it began to move forward, only to stop again.

Now, one may think it would be best to find help, or perhaps handle the issue in a more.. professional manner.

Instead, Roxanne flipped it off, walking away. Such a small issue seemed to put the entire female in a foul mood, her steps swift and her arms swinging alongside of her with anger. Now, she wasn't typically like this. She was known to keep to herself. However, she was currently sleep deprived, hot, and now, famished. So, as she nudged past the crowd of people waiting for their flights, she had but one target in mind. On she strode, headed towards a poor flight attendant she had seen in the distance that seemed to be on a brief break. She watched the red-haired woman smile upon seeing her, but espying the expression on Roxanne's face, it seemed to twist into a worried look. "How may I help y-" -- "Fix your goddamn vending machine," she hissed before the attendant could finish her sentence. Without another word, she stalked off, eager to escape this dreaded place.

Everything was sticky, the roar of planes taking off practically deafened her, and to make matters worse, yet another child screamed near her, its blubbering face turning towards her. She would have flipped it off as well had the mother not been looking at her. All Roxanne wished to do was leave, but of course, she couldn't. Not yet. She was forced to remain here in this loud, obnoxious place filled with strangers until her mother would arrive to help with her luggage. Until then, she couldn't move. She was stuck here in this.. in this purgatory.

And she couldn't even get a goddamn snack.

Z End Of Us // ThreadFebruary 17, 2022 05:38 PM


Thornbury

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Posts: 1328
#2713881
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Alyssia

Twenty || Female || Mentions: open

From above, up in the ether, everything seemed so serene. The grey puffs of soft cloud were trying to hug the sides of the cold steel jet, relentlessly clinging onto the propellers and skirts to follow it down towards the sultry, humid weather of the earth. The sun was desperately trying to reside behind the horizon, gently playing tug-of-war with the reds, oranges, and the soft pinks that entwined themselves within the greyish clouds towards the west, the east of the globe being assailed by the bold, fearsome black of the night.

A trenchant, forbearing voice chimed from the speakers, “Cabin crew, please take your seats for landing,” Followed by an unenthusiastic beep, making the more curious souls residing in their seats look up to see the small red sign, a caveat to buckle down upon landing. The once comfortable silence of the plane, backgrounded by the drowned away buzzing of the wind and engine, was soon filled by the busy chittering of exited, wound-up children and the slower, more groggy complaints of adults just awaking from what they would call; ‘the worst sleep they had had in years,’ and they then would surely complain about the so-called jet lag they would later have.

Alyssia herself had barely caught any shuteye. The whole 7-hour flight seemed like torture; no food, no sleep, and the whole time this annoying little child was kicking the back of her seat, making her head jerk back and forth. She didn’t say anything though, because she was too inclined to be a nuisance as boredom had gotten a hold of her, although she had refrained, not wanting any sort of confrontation to make the trip a hassle. Supposedly, the woman was traveling with her teammates. Due to late booking, they never quite got all the seats they wanted all together, and so as it goes, there was not even one of them that sat together. Still, this didn’t seem like such a hindrance, as they had at least booked in at the same hotel, so they wouldn’t be obliged to find each other in the depths of the presumably busy airport.

With small turbulence like a bump and the slight sound of gravel beneath, they had landed. The plane was still traveling, and rather quickly at that, making a slight feeling of nausea fill the woman’s head; like suddenly, the air had become thick and unbreathable. Still, they had been given the wonder of landing safely in California… Landing safely especially. It wasn’t that Alyssia didn’t like flying, but more so that the travel was difficult for her. While she was in the air, all was smooth, and she couldn’t see any roads. It was almost as if the plane wasn’t even moving, and so when they landed on the runways… that’s when she got the urge to curl into a ball and stay put for quite a while. Of course, this wasn’t even nearly an option, because she was planning to get out of the plane before people started their crazed rush for the stairs.

Eventually, the flying hunk of metal came to a halt, which is when people started to unbuckle their seatbelts. Alyssia was sat on the end of a row of three, right next to the overhead cabinets. She had a small rucksack with her, sat at her feet with little to nothing but a loose hoodie in there in case it had gotten a little cooler in the nightlife. As soon as the message was given, the woman was up out of her seat, more than ready to get the hell out of the musty plane. She slung her little rucksack over her shoulders as she wandered out, desperate for some food and water, and more than anything to get to her hotel and meet with her people before the night fully came upon them.

As she approached the closest exit and handed the flight attended her passport, she could already feel the heat of the California weather fill the plane. She was almost worried to leave, unsure of how in hell she was meant to run in the heat. Surely this was unfair, right? Nevertheless, the moment she stepped outside onto the airstairs, the worry went away, and instead, her spine twinged at the pleasant temperature. Alyssia knew it would be warmer than it would be in the UK, but she expected it to be… horrible, rather than this more comfortable, slightly humid feel.

Alyssia was relatively pale; not unhealthy so, but rather more like she hadn’t seen sun in a while. Who knows, perhaps she would manage to get down to the beach over the few weeks she had here? It would be used as an excuse to spend time with the team, of course. Her hair was smooth, but not quite so glossy due to the ever-disappearing light, and that she had tied it back into a ponytail, in preparation for the warm weather, as she would simply be mortified to have it all in her face, not to mention how uncomfortable it would be in such a heat. Her outfit consisted of a plain white shirt, and denim shorts, along with some black trainers with white souls. It was nothing to catch attention, for sure, rather more for something you would call… comfort, function, and practicality. Very much a typical girl next door look.

As she walked down the steps and into the cooler, more air-conditioned airport, the first thing she noticed is how busy it was… did people travel that much overnight? So many people, pushing and shoving as though their lives were depending on it. There were one or two people that had fallen flat on their faces; she tried to give them a helping hand, but they refused it with a rather offended look. A few people surrounding the gates generally looked sick – green and pale, and most people looked grumpy. So rather than staying around and catching something awful, she instead headed for a more touristy part of the airport.

she wondered how she would get out to her hotel; her whole group had decided to meet when they got to the homestay, but Alyssia was well and truly starving, so rather than going straight to the taxi port, she found herself staring into a few small convenience stores and one or two sweet stores. She swiftly pulled out her phone, pinging a quick message to her team manager, ‘Gonna be late. There is food that is calling my attention, I’ll probably get everyone some snacks. Send someone to get my bags, ight?’ And with that, Alyssia was on her way to rummage around the convenience store. She picked up a small pot of feta cheese and olives, two bottles of water, a… wrapped-up wrap, a six-pack of crisps, and not forgetting a big pack of chocolate bars. Of course, she wasn’t going to eat them all herself, but it was always a nice feeling being able to share food. Alyssia paid and threw everything into her bag, swinging it over her shoulder once more, getting ready to make a meal out of trying to find a bathroom before finally going to get some proper rest.

Z End Of Us // ThreadFebruary 17, 2022 07:00 PM


Xuân

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Cassian Alaric

Male | 18 | Ace Pan | M: Open

California.

The sweet smell of tourists and sweat and the coast. People were milling about, most clearly having a direct destination in mind. The steady stream of passengers flowed smoothly. It reminded Cassian of a road full of cars. People methodically moving as if a single mechanism. It was as if there were strict, unspoken words and rules to be said about their movements, precise and steady.

His eyes tracked a little girl, about five years in age. She looked rather sickly, clutching a teddy bear in her hands, her nose red and her cheeks rosy. A boy about three years older grasped her hand and followed a thin man accompanied with a cheerful woman. Siblings, if Cassian had to guess. It reminded him of his own family and how they had been so close when they were younger.

A phone in the pocket of his black basketball shorts buzzed. He ignored it. It was probably his older brother ready to gripe about how Cassian should have taken the early 5 AM flight instead of the later one. Their family had drifted apart when Cassian had decided to move out of state. Away from the family out of spite. It was petty, but Cassian didn't necessarily regret leaving. In any case, he was almost completely positive he could survive alone. Almost.

The family of four he had been watching made their way to the gates, heading for one far on the left side. The little girl tripped on her feet. She stumbled before being caught by what Cassian had assumed was her brother. The older brother assured her quietly and glanced around for his parents ahead of him, making eye contact with Cassian momentarily with a wide, innocent look. Cassian looked away and back at the crowd. As if being commanded by some outward force, he straightened his back. A faint needling in the back of his mind to fix his posture in the form of his older brother's voice caused a small smile to cross his face in spite of his irritation at his brother.

His older brother's voice seemed to just follow him everywhere, even as he gripped his singular duffle bag and slung it on his shoulder, looking over the heads of the passing people. He was looking for an opening in the steady stream. A paved path appeared through the crowd and Cassian smugly sauntered through as if the gods had granted him and only him the little opening.

A nagging thought hit him rather abruptly and Cassian felt a silly little urge to stop and scold said voice, but of course he couldn't. He simply sighed and changed his path from the gates to the bathrooms, the holy little land of water fountains awaiting his thirst. He stooped down to take a light sip, seemingly irritated at the fact that his body would dare be thirsty. Cassian felt almost embarrassed at showing such a human weakness in front of such a large crowd of people.

You self centered brat. Why would they watch a stranger drink water from a water fountain? You're not the main character, the voice scolded.

Sometimes he hated how his subconscious came in the form of his own judgemental, criticizing mind.

He took another drink from the water fountain to settle his thirst and settled onto an empty, wooden bench near the bathrooms. A convenient spot, really. He should really be waiting at the gate, but having to go through the crowd again seemed tiresome.

Cassian leaned against the wall, collapsing his large posture and closed his eyes. He breathed in the warm, familiar air of California. It reminded him of a fresh start, even if the state was, in the most simplistic terms, collapsing in itself. Like the sand castles and block castles he would make as a child, though this time, it wasn't being affected by an outer source like his fellow triplets. No, it was simply attacking itself.

Oddly, it intrigued Cassian terribly.

Sounds of people entering and leaving the bathroom rang in his ear, the door opening and closing in a light rhythm. His knee bounced, heel hitting the floor and rising in a methodic beat, accompanied with the irregular and random sound of the creaking doors. A man stumbled into Cassian’s outstretched leg, to which he quickly withdrew the limb. “Sorry,” said the man, his words slurred. Cassian cautiously glanced up at the man’s eyes, which were bloodshot and blearily squinting at Cassian. He looked pale, as sickly as the little girl from before. “It’s alright,” Cassian said carefully. He had had his fair share of sickly folk and alcoholics, if that man didn’t normally look like that, of course.

Cassian blinked and watched the man stumble into the men’s bathroom, running into another man who grumbled to oh-so-generously share his annoyance.

All Cassian could think was, I hate crowds.


Edited at February 17, 2022 07:01 PM by Xuân
Z End Of Us // ThreadFebruary 17, 2022 09:39 PM


ThisIsAPackName

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KHUFU CARABELLA

16 - Male - Mentions: Open

Sleep clung to the boy’s face as he woke, letting out a strange, groggy “unhgg” noise as he was jostled out of his rest by passengers rushing to exit the plane as quickly as possible.

Tired, Khufu quickly took inventory of his surroundings — the plane had just landed by the view out the window, and everybody was getting up to leave. Clearly, it had only recently landed, considering everyone was still in the midst of getting their luggage. How he slept through the entire landing was beyond him, not that the depth of his sleep meant much — he found himself still incredibly groggy as the passenger beside him attempted to scooch by.

The crowd flooded out of the plane, rushing past where Khufu was sitting and brushing against his thigh. He pressed back uncomfortably against his seat as the passenger sitting beside him squeezed by with a quiet and nearly undetectable “‘scuse me” as Khufu paused to recollect himself, leaning his head back and blinking the sleepiness that remained from his attempt at a nap away. He settled back into his seat once the passenger had gone, leaning forward and bracing his arms on his thighs in order to peer out at the people rushing to get their luggage.

He really didn’t want to get up.

He didn’t stand for a while, settling for observing quietly until the plane settled down more. He lived in Los Angeles, so he was used to the crowds, and yet the stark contrast of where he’d just come from and the rushing panic he saw here jarred him. He wasn’t even back home, though; he’d still have to take a car ride (which his best friend covered, thank God for him), and then he’d be back to the bustling cities, which was far, far more active than this. An energy-lacking Khufu could hardly keep up, resulting in him dully watching people run themselves in circles trying to get off the flight as fast as possible.

Upon hearing a ping from his phone, though, his tired eyes lit up and he shot up from his seat, though not without banging his head on the baggage compartment overhead.

After grappling with the bump that’d most certainly formed and gathering his things (his suitcase almost hit him in the face while he was pulling it out of the compartment), Khufu made his way down the stairs of the plane, his gait jaunty and exaggerated as he pulled his phone and AirPods from his pocket. He lighted on the floor after the last step, humming softly to himself as he put in his ear buds and turned some vocaloid music on, eyes sparkling as his hands hovered over the text message notification that he’d gotten moments before. He opened it, and —

… Ah. His ride got a flat tire.

His expression soured in an instant. He stared down at his phone with a blank, uncomprehending smile.

He’d be late. Just a little bit late, nothing that was an issue. He hadn’t seen his best friend in a month, what was another half hour? Yes, Khufu could take that time to do something nice for him. Something nice.

Brightness returning to his expression, he made his way down the walkway to the arrivals area with renewed pep in his step, humming along to the new song that’d started blasting in his ears. He weaved through the crowd with his newfound vigor, bright blue eyes scanning the signs above for directions.

There was a coffee shop over that way. That’d be fine, he thought — the guy liked coffee, and he wouldn’t have to wait to have it when he got here. That’d be good.

He walked inside, still humming to himself as he scanned the board above that listed off their options. It wasn’t that he didn’t know what to order — no, no, he was perfectly sure. Espresso double shot over ice. He’d order the same thing every time, Khufu remembered perfectly. What he was debating, however, was whether he should even order in the first place; he didn’t know how long the delay would be, and he didn’t want the ice to melt too much and water it all down.

He stood for a while, staring at the board with his hand on his chin and the look of a person with a completely and utterly blank mind, until he heard the barista clear their throat. He ignored it, thinking they probably just had a cold or something. They cleared their throat yet again, louder this time, and he ignored it once more.

Maybe he should order something for himself. Khufu had had coffee before, obviously, but he didn’t explore much. This time around, though, he was waiting for someone and it wouldn’t be too much of a bother if he didn’t end up liking it, so whatever.

With an affirmative hum to that last thought, he approached the counter. Failing to acknowledge the incredibly annoyed glower the barista had fixed him with, he proceeded to order the first thing he saw on the board.

What he ordered, Khufu had no idea, and he was likely to not recall if you asked him. It was somewhat counterproductive to trying new things if he didn’t know what it was, but he assumed he’d be able to figure it out once he got it. The likelihood of him figuring what he ordered, however, became close to nothing as he got his drink and peered down at it, almost white in the amount of sugar that was put in it with a thick layer of whipped cream, caramel drizzle and flakes of something.

He stared down into the sugary monstrosity with some optimism, curiosity overtaking him. If it was an item on the board, it had to be at least sort of good, right?

Khufu took a sip.

It was at that moment that he made the executive decision to never step foot in that shop again.

He resisted the urge to vomit at the taste of nothing but sweet overwhelming his senses. He stood completely still and silently, warring with his tongue in an attempt to swallow it without vomiting like a coward in front of the barista. It was a battle he won, though it most certainly was not a battle that won him the war — in fact, he took one look at the rest of the drink and decided that this was one war he simply could not win. A thought he had rarely and an admission he took with shame, but nobody needed to know.

As Khufu strode out the doorway, hell’s drink in hand, his sole thought as his eyes remained fixed on the item in a remarkably disgusted expression was “I could make a drink way better than that”. Thus, a new questline began in Khufu’s head in an attempt to make up for his catastrophic failure just moments before, and his friend went entirely forgotten.

Z End Of Us // ThreadFebruary 18, 2022 07:02 PM


Former Pack

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C H A R L I E
Late Twenties | Male
Mentions:
Sadie, Khufu

—————————

His little sister is bullying him again, just five seconds after she woke from her quick nap. He thinks that this is some sort of new world record. No, actually, after he takes a second to fully mull it over, he realizes that it is; with his left hand, Charlie pulls his phone out from his pocket and opens his notes app, taps on a file, scrolls for what feels like millenia… Annnnd, yeah, there it is: his most recent update states that she bullied him merely seven seconds after she woke up. That needs changing. He tosses his baked potato on his lap to free his other hand, and quickly jots down a new entry: [ 6:01 PM, XX/XX/XXXX | 5 secs after awakening :: “Why do you still even bother eating? You eat more than our entire family’s weight combined and still look like a feather could shatter all your bones. You’re just wasting food, really.” ].

“Hey, I can see that you don’t have your earphones in!” He feels her feet collide with his (he admits) rather thicc thighs, a painful kick so incredibly, unexpectedly powerful for someone her size that anyone who wasn’t as used to her casual violence as he is would have yelped at 169 decibels. “Don’t ignore me!”

He ignores her.

For extra measure, he leisurely grabs hold of his baked potato (it’s half-off of his lap now, thanks to a certain someone) and takes a massive bite out of it, cheeks puffing out like a chipmunk. He elects to moan in delight, just to get on her nerves more, allowing his eyes to flutter closed, and revels in the disgusted noise his sister makes. Surprisingly, after his little show, she doesn’t try once again transforming her feet into the most lethal weapon in all of history; instead, she simply asks, “Where’d you get that? The potato, I mean.”

“The ether,” Charlie immediately tells her.

He feels her shift at his side, sees the blur of a bony hand swipe at his feast. With an “uhn-uhn,” Charlie holds his snack out of reach, much to Sadie’s dismay. But, again, to his surprise, she does nothing more besides muttering, “What airport sells plain, baked potatoes anyway?”

(He had over three hundred counters at the ready for whatever quip was about to get thrown his way. She must be really tired, then. Shame.)

“This airport, apparently,” he answers her, and she only huffs in response.

He chances a glance at her—chances, because she could just be pretending to be oh-so-calm in an effort to get him to look her way, and right as he does, she’ll fling something at his face and break his glasses for the fifteenth time. But she’s merely rearranged herself into a sitting position, blinking tiredly into the abyss. With her distracted and more than likely unable to conjure some method to threaten his mortality, he takes a moment to look her over. She, frankly, looks like absolute shit, near-black purple bruises hanging under her eyes. If the dark hues were on her eyelids instead, they’d’ve complemented the crystal pale greens of her irises; instead, they simply make her look as if she hasn’t gotten a lick of sleep in three years. Her hair sticks out in all sorts of odd angles, looking more like chunks of rough coal thrown haphazardly in an engine than anything that belongs on a teen’s head. Even her skin’s different: pale, almost ashen, nothing like the healthy ivories and pinks it was just the other day when he’d kidnapped her from her high-school.

It makes him wonder what he looks like. In all honesty, on any given day, his eyebags transcend reality and his hair looks to be something Satan would happily lay eggs in, but with him having not slept in two days straight… He probably looks like a dead man standing. Ugh. The fact that Sadie isn’t bullying him for his disastrous appearance is only proof of it; even in her tired state, she’d’ve commented on his looks (she always does, really) and thrown out a cheeky jest that’d have him rolling his eyes and pummeling her with half-a-dozen comebacks, but he must look so terrible right now that she, shockingly, would find saying anything about his current shittiness to be too mean.

Unless… Unless she thinks something is wrong. Maybe that’s why she isn’t acting like he’s used to, like she should. Dread pools deep into his belly, and his hands turn clammy, fingers on the verge of turning his potato into mere mush.

She’s suspicious of something, isn’t she? She knows something’s going on. Of course she does. The story he’d given her as to exactly why the fuck he’d bought tickets to Montana, where her mother and father were staying at that pretigious skiing resort for their anniversary, wasn’t… wasn’t… something. Fuckfuck, what’s the word? Foolproof. Infallible. He’d thought before that she was just happy that she was being given three days off of school, that she was going along with everything because she was ecstatic about not having to deal with homework. But, fuck, she’s perceptive under all that immature I-will-kick-you-to-hell B.S.; he fucking knows this. Of course she’s aware that something’s wrong. What parents want their kids to be right with them on their anniversary, the time they spend together with no other parties involved, anyway? Let alone after they’d already discussed with Charlie that he would be watching over Sadie during the time they were gone. And their family isn’t one for last-minute decisions; they’re organized, and they’re not the kind to just suddenly go, “Oh, let’s have our kids over! Screw those plans we spent days butting heads over! Screw those weeks of convincing Sadie that she one hundred percent needs a babysitter! Screw those days we spent bullying Charlie into not killing himself at work for a few days! Now, go buy the cheapest plane tickets in all of mankind and get them over here!” And given how strict her father was with her academics, there’s no way in hell that he’d let Charlie just… fling her out of her classroom and throw her into a plane; hell, even in a worldwide emergency, he’d force Sadie to stay the fuck in school, and both Charlie and Sadie know this extremely well. And… And that’s just— That’s just— Shit, shitshitshit, Sadie hasn’t caught on, hasn’t she? She can’t catch on. She can’t figure this out, she can’t know that something is wrong, she can’t be suspicious that there is something wrong. Charlie isn’t ready to explain—

“Why are you looking at me like we’re in Alabama?”

Her soft, bell-like voice throws him out of his spiraling thoughts. He recoils ever-so-slightly, quickly processing her words, hiding his flinch (she can’t ever know she can startle him; she’ll turn into even more of a demon than she already is) as him leaning away from her in repulsion. With a wrinkled nose, he says, “Ew. Ew. Sadie, why? Why do you keep on saying that? You so need Jesus in your life.”

She grins toothily—like the spawn of the devil that she is. “I know.”

For a little while, as he teaches himself to breathe again, he watches her fight her earphones into not strangling her to death. (He offered to buy her airpods once, but she refused, looking at him with so much revulsion that he wondered if, in his sleep-deprived state, he’d accidentally asked her what the world would be like if trees had genitalia and needed to put them to use in order to reproduce. But he’s quite sure that he didn’t, so it’s her loss; now, she has to suffer with thin wires constantly attempting to smother her into the afterlife.) When her little brutal battle with them is over, she moves on to packing away her U-shaped neck pillow.

“So,” she says, struggling to keep her poor, poor distended backpack from exploding all its contents onto the airport floor (why the hell she brought so much with her, Charlie has no idea. He took a peek in there earlier, too; it’s all useless stuff. She can be so strange sometimes…), “why didn’t you get me one of those?”

He tilts his head. “The potato?”

“Yeah.” She declares WWIII on the backpack’s zipper. “I’m hungry. You know I’d be hungry when I woke up. Why didn’t ya get me some?”

His eyes roll to the skies. “I can’t read minds, Sadie.”

“Yeah, but you know how I am. Now, get me some.”

“No.”

She looks affronted, and huffs her offense. “Why?”

“Because,” he says, making a vague gesture, “the store’s, like, fuck meters away.”

She is victorious, and flings her battered backpack somewhere to the side. “What’s that in feet?”

He gives her a Look. “Sadie, I’m not abusing my toes just to get you a potato.” He shakes the item in question around in his hand. “And you literally hate potatoes. I know you’re only asking me for this because you want me to suffer. I’ve done enough cardio today.”

She relents—but only in regards to the potato. “There’s, like, a coffee thing-store-whatever somewhere close by. Their shit’s cheap. I saw them showing off a buncha their sandwiches. Get me somethin’.”

“So commandeering.”

She looks him in the eyes, deadpan. “Please feed my bitching belly.”

Charlie takes a long, deep breath through his nose. “It isn’t too far from here?”

“Nope.”

“That’s the truth?”

“Yep.”

He eyes her suspiciously. “Sadie, if I’m gonna end up walking for thirty minutes—”

She punches his shoulder. Charlie doesn’t even wince; he’s used to her fists. “You won’t.” She flashes him an innocent, beaming smile that does nothing to alleviate his distrust. “Really, I mean it,” she continues. “It’s just aways over—” she points in the direction of the other shops— “there. You won’t be able to miss it. It’s got this big sign out at the front. ‘Coffee Shop.’ Seriously.”

Charlie exhales through his nose. Gives her another Look, one that she returns with a Look of her own.

“You’ll only end up killing your feet if you get lost.” She crosses her arms, juts her chin out. “Which I won’t be surprised if you do, given your absolutely deplorable directional skills.”

Charlie stares at her for so long that Jesus contemplates if He’s accidentally stopped time.

Sadie stares at him back.

“I’m choosing to trust you.”

She grins at him brightly.

“Watch our things,” he tells her, getting to his feet. “I’ll be right back.” He pats down his fanny pack for his wallet. Once he confirms it still exists, he turns back to her and says sternly, “Don’t go anywhere.”

She tiredly throws him a peace sign.

—————

Sadie lied to him.

It wasn’t nearby.

He realized this about fifteen minutes into walking, and he proceeded to vibrate like an angry chihuahua. That little shit, he thought after he finally reached the damn place. I am SO gonna get back to her on this.

Now, he’s well aware that he could’ve just… turned around at any point during his march, headed on back, and attempted sororicide right then and there, but… he’s only had one tiny cup of coffee today, on the connecting flight from their home city of Phoenix to this dinky airport in Sacramentos, and he hasn’t had a healthy sleep schedule since… probably the day he was born, actually… But, point is, he’s not quite in the right mind, he isn’t thinking straight, and that led him to not consider the option of simply spinning on his heel and merrily skipping back to where he left her on the carpeted floor of some secluded corner of the airport. His common sense only returned to him after he’d taken his place at the end of the line.

…He’s gonna strangle Sadie. He swears. He will.

It’s a good thing they weren’t in a rush. Their flight was delayed fourteen hours, and he and Sadie decided to stay overnight in the airport instead of risking a stay at a nearby hotel. That’d make it the sixth time the flight was delayed; first, it was delayed an hour, then one and a half, three, four, eight, and finally fourteen, announced just thirty minutes ago, right as Sadie had started stirring from her hour-long, much-needed nap. A whole bunch of other flights had been delayed, too, due to “many complications,” much to the consternation of quite literally almost 90% of everyone in the airport. It explains why there were so many people out and about, congregating where the stores were; no one wants to hang out at their gate for hours on end, doing nothing more besides hovering over charging stations and taking occasional trips to the restrooms nearby.

So, yes, it was a good thing their flight wasn’t about to board in, say, fourteen minutes. In which case, Charlie would have to sprint all the way back—through a sea of impatient, hungry humanity, no less—despite his virtually nothing levels of energy. He’d be completely fucked. Sadie, too, considering how he didn’t trust her with her passport and the boarding passes; she’d just have to… awkwardly stand there and watch as everyone boarded without the two of them. Although it’d have been her fault that they’d have missed the flight in the first place, he’d only find himself feeling all the more guilty. She’s already exhausted from the previous flight, and he wants her to be with her mother as soon as possible.

Especially given the circumstances.

(…He still has to inform her about what happened.)

They can’t miss this flight.

They can’t fucking miss this flight.

But it’s fine. Everything’s fine. He can’t really breathe, but screw his lungs. They can malfunction all they want. He just… He needs coffee. That’s what he needs. It’s fine. Everything’s fine. They won’t miss the flight. It’s fine. It’s cool. Everything’s handled. Things have been dealt with. It’s fine. He just needs to stop thinking. He needs to stop imagining what-if scenarios, and needs to stop thinking about all the ways everything can go wrong. The flight’s just been delayed. His sister doesn’t know anything yet. His mom’s okay. Everything is A++. They won’t miss the flight. It’s fine.

…Anywho.

Aha, he really loves being so sleep-deprived! Spiraling thoughts and all. Aha…

Charlie clears his throat, as if that’ll clear his mind. It doesn’t, obviously, but at least the sharp sound startles the barista in front of him into action; she’d been staring at the counter, as if in a haze, lost in thought, her skin blanched and sickly-looking. Stressed. Most likely because there’s so many people around. Charlie gets that; it’s why he’d allowed himself to stay standing here in the first place, giving her a chance to get herself back together (and then ended up zoning out himself andalmostthrowinghimselfintoapanic—).

“Hi, sorry,” the barista mumbles. She lifts her hand to her face, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Uhhh… what can I get you?”

He elects to keep his voice as gentle as possible when he orders. “Just need a cup of coffee,” he says with as polite of a smile as he can summon in his fatigued state. “Largest size, whatever that’s called ‘round here. Espresso.”

“Okay…” She still looks… lost. Confused. A bead of sweat runs down her forehead. Charlie narrows his eyes. Now that he thinks about it, she looks… afraid? Strange. “To-go?” He nods. “Anything else?”

“You got any sandwiches?” (He can’t go back to Sadie without something for her to devour; she’ll probably end up biting his arm instead. Cannibal.)

The barista's hands are shaking. “Yeah.”

“I’ll take the cheapest and most filling you got.”

She nods, a quivering, jerky movement of her head. Up. Down. “Name?”

“Charlie.”

She mumbles again, this time something about getting back to him soon enough. And then she’s gone.

He doesn’t get much time to think about it all too much (not that he really wants to; he has enough shit to kill his brain cells over) because in no time, he’s got a pitcher-sized cup of coffee in his hand (for him) and a paper bag of some sandwich in the other (for Sadie. He’ll stuff it down her throat and then strangle her). There’s a longer line behind him now, all impatient people, and he hurries away.

Back to his demon of a sibling he goes…

But, first: coffee.

Charlie shifts to cradle the paper bag in his arm, practicing his fortified finger gymnastics in the form of popping open the paper cup. With years of experience on his side, he manages to get the bastard ready to pour its contents right down the column of his throat, and, hastily, as if someone from the crowd will steal his treasure, he tips his head back—

MmmmmmMMMMMM.

This is just what he needed…

Unfortunately, because the world despises him so very much, right before the euphoria of satiating his caffeine addiction fully settles in his bones, he crashes into someone.

He hates everything.

It’s his fault, really; he wasn’t exactly looking where he was going. It’s only through God’s grace that his edible jewelry doesn’t spill all over the floor, and he doesn’t break his face on a trashcan. He rushes to regain his balance, dropping the paper bag to free a hand and latching onto the person’s arm. Once he isn’t on the verge of dislocating his such-and-suchs, he quickly shoves the cap back onto the coffee cup to lessen the chance of him giving the janitors even more problems to deal with.

“Shit, man—” Ah, it’s a kid. Teen, actually, if the undoubtedly young features are anything to go by. He rushes to correct himself: “Kiddo. Sorry. I’m a bit off-kilter today, aha~ My neurons… aren’t really functioning right now. Woops!” He offers a light-hearted, please-don’t-blow-up-at-me-and-make-my-week-suck-even-fucking-more chuckle alongside a bright totally-not-completely-dead-inside-and-utterly-exhausted grin.

And then…

Charlie kind of just.

Stands there.

When you bump into someone, you simply move on (unless one party decides to be an attention whore and ruin the days of everyone in their vicinity. Some people love hearing the sounds of their voices a little too much, see). Instead, Charlie, the sleep-deprived blue-screening disaster that he is, stays rooted to the spot, blinking slowly. Maybe it’s the hair that breaks him: dyed a soft pink, the roots a jet-black, it’s an unexpected hue in this clusterfuck of blacks, browns, blondes, and gingers. When unexpected things happen in the presence of a Charlie who has not slept in 68 hours, his brain does this funny thing called taking a break from attempting to process reality.

Charlie hasn’t let go of the kid’s arm.

Actually, he’s held on even tighter.

This is weird. Yep, this is actually weird. No, this goes beyond weird and yeets straight into creepy territory. Charlie should’ve let go by now. He should’ve picked up his paper bag and smiled a little more and then promptly fucked off back to terrorize Sadie. He should’ve downed all his coffee in one gulp and then bought himself a casket to have a heart attack in. It’s the stress, he’s sure. All the events of these past couple of days and the existence of hair that is different from all the rest has finally fried his brain into oblivion. Mayhaps he will live the rest of his days as a vegetable. He wouldn’t mind that all too much, actually, if it gives him the chance to finally be done with the anarchical, mayhemic cesspool that is the cosmos.

He needs to let go of this kid’s arm, but his fingers seem to enjoy disobeying him. A few people are looking at them oddly now.

No, he actually needs to let go of the poor kid’s arm. He needs to go back to Sadie and bully her. He needs his caffeine. He needs his brain to work again. He needs the airport to not be so loud. He wants that plane to come now. He wants to go back to work and get his coworkers to stop spamming his phone about their biggest project yet. He wants to be in Montana now where he can get to directly dealing with… things. He wants his mother. He wants this entire week to reset. He wants to breathe.

He wants to let go of this kid’s arm.

Instead, his eyes fly down to the drink in the boy’s hand, and his mouth asks, “Aren’t you too young to be drinking coffee?”

Wow. That’s what leaves his mouth after almost a minute of staring at the poor kid? A question so hypocritical, considering how Charlie’s been drinking coffee since he was fuck-years-old, that he worries God is going to disown him on the spot?

Charlie huffs through his nose. Something floods into his system, an emotion that is a conglomeration of whatever the hell else is already clogging his entire bloodstream. It’s enough to get his grip to loosen, finally, and his hand falls limply to his side, where it belongs. His eyes take interest in a point above the boy’s shoulder. “Ignore me,” he says. “I— Fu— Uhhh, I’m… Not enough sleep. Haven’t slept in a while. Stressed. Doing crazy fu— things. Things.” He sighs again. “I— Damn— Darn it.”

He wishes he had the ability to dig a hole and die in it.

He has to explain this now. Him. Him and his inability to articulate things properly without having to insert fifty analogies and go on a long-ass tangent and whack in all these jokes and— Fuck. Fuck all of this. He wants to go home. He badly wants to go home, where his best friends will be down at the ready to harass him to death over Discord. He wants to go back to his apartment, where all five of his computers are, and beat his crackhead coworkers to hacking the CIA database first. He wants to just… get the fuck out of here. He could probably just walk away now, right? Turn around and sprint right off. It’s not like this kid is ever gonna see him again. And Charlie can pretend none of this ever happened.

He should probably just do that.

He purses his lips. Hums noncommittally. Turns his head down and to the side, in the direction of where he’d dropped the paper bag. Crouches down to grab the container of what will make Sadie not electrocute him in his sleep. Stands back up. Puts the cup of coffee in the paper bag. Skillfully turns around. Tunnel vision, tunnel vision. He cancels out the noise of the people around him, maps out the path he’ll tread. Calculates the bounce in his step, the distance between his feet. He will walk away casually. His movements will be relaxed and open. Uninhibited. Nothing happened. Everything’s fine. He doesn’t feel eyes boring into the back of his skull. Everything is normal. This is just… okay. Yep. A+++. He psyches himself up and lifts his head.

Charlie takes a step forward—

—and immediately gets bowled over right on his ass.

He lands hard (and painfully; linoleum floors are nowhere near soft), his bones bitching immediately, teeth crunching against each other and sending shockwaves of ouchouchouchouchouch echoing through quite possibly his entire damn body. It takes several moments for the white waves in his vision to flutter away into nothingness, and he has to drop the paper bag again to bring his hand up to his face and cradle his jaw. Ow. Fuck, way to not make him look even more like an idiot, universe.

What is it with today, anyway? Why does everything hate him?

Brows furrowed angrily, he snaps his eyes open and jerks his head up to confront the person who dared challenge his skeletal system’s durability. This person-to-person impact wasn’t on him, this time. No, he had the right-of-way. He doesn’t care if the jackass is in a rush to catch their flight; that doesn’t give you the right to shove people aside so hard that they get knocked the hell over. It’s just rude. Charlie’s gonna give this idiot a piece of his mi

Oh.

At first, he thinks it’s just an overenthusiastic reunion. Although it’s uncommon for meet-ups between folks to be… passionate, it’s not entirely out of the picture. Charlie can attest to this. Once upon a time, when he was even more of an idiot and in college, Charlie jumped one of his close friends, Caelum, in a parking lot right as they both came back from summer break. Niven, his other close friend, has the whole thing recorded on every single one of his gadgets; he has it saved to his cloud, even, just so Caelum screaming bloody murder is indubitably immortalized. Charlie’s maniacal laughter and Caelum’s screeching pleas for help were so inhumanly loud that they could be heard all the way up on the second floor. Even after Caelum figured out that it was Charlie who’d spooked him, he kept on screaming, and Charlie kept on laughing, and then blue and red lights assaulted their eyeballs. It took a while for the three friends to awkwardly tell the police that nothing was wrong, that, yes, they were friends, they were simply goofing around, they were little jerks who liked to take things a little too far, and we’re so sorry for bothering you!

So, when the guy that threw Charlie on his butt gets tackled by some other dude merely ten seconds later, and that same guy starts shrieking, the first thing that Charlie thinks is, Some friends really are a little too silly.

But when Charlie feels something warm splatter across his cheek, sees a pool of red paint the floor, he thinks, Oh.

He thinks, Oh, fuck.

Suddenly, there’s more than one scream piercing the cold air. Charlie’s may or may not be among them.


Edited at February 18, 2022 07:12 PM by lifeisnotUwU
Z End Of Us // ThreadFebruary 18, 2022 08:40 PM


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Reyes Collin

Feminine // 23 // Mentions: None

The chatter on the plane was muffled out by Reyes’s own thoughts. What was the name of that one guy from that one show? She swore she saw that Giga chad of a face somewhere. Perhaps for more context, Reyes just finished binge-watching a show, only to reminisce over the actors that seemed to be somewhat forgettable. The show seemed to have a bunch of main characters with stock-photo faces; you know the ones. But there was just one dude with such a massive chin that he had to be famous.

The thought would never fully leave her until she searched it up herself.

Thankfully, she was quickly captured by her schedule when she had settled into her seat. She shuffled over to her side of the two blue-cotton cushions, finally plopping down on the seat closer to the window. Reyes immediately dug into her pockets, feeling around for the comfort of her phone. Ah yes, the time-consuming, brain-melting, holy rectangle. She had prepared plenty of things to buy time. A playlist of music, terribly amusing offline apps, and her schedule played out in her notes app. Immediately, Reyes began scrolling, trying to find something to do to pass the time.

"This is Ashley's babies, aren't they adorable?"

Reyes flicked her hazel eyes to the old couple who sat across from her. Was she in any way settle about this? No. But they didn't seem to notice her staring and obviously eavesdropping on the conversation. The two looked like every old couple ever. The woman was holding the phone up to the man's eyes, practically pushing it against his face. The man got out his thick, striped glass, placing them delicately on his face as he grabbed the phone. "I thought those were Carolines..." The confusion was written over both of their faces, and the woman snatched the phone back, doing a double-take.

"Oh yeah."

That's when Reyes stopped listening in, deciding that they would eventually manage to spot her staring and create that awful tension that lasted way too long. In any way, she had to stop looking like some creep peeping in on a couple of innocent elders because the flight attendant came out.

The attendant started to go through the walkway, explaining the safety measures everybody should be taking before they take flight. The only thing Reyes could focus on was the incredibly accurate stereotype that the woman followed. It was insane how every plane movie had their attendants perfectly on point. The woman had blonde hair tied into a ponytail (that was slightly lower than a usual ponytail) heavy mascara and was considerably young. Her complexion was on the tanner side, given it is California, and her arms were so slim one could mistake them for sticks.

Reyes wasn’t one to judge, but she couldn’t help but think that she kind of looked like that one Apple Jacks cereal character. Her jaw was a bit too elongated and it didn’t help that her foundation was placed so that her cheekbones looked as though they were higher up than they really were. Reyes bit the inside of her cheek, holding back an amused chuckle. She was definitely going to hell. While Reyes always tried to be respectful of others, she couldn't help her own thoughts from going wild. And now? She was craving some of that cereal. To her demise, the attendant must’ve caught her staring because they made eye contact. Just look away. Reyes kept her stare on the woman, her resting done-with-life face probably made the flight attendant think that Reyes could be a potential threat to her. How is she still talking like none of this phases her while staring right at me? This went on for far too long before the blonde tore her eyes off of Reyes, breaking the awkward gaze that they both held.

Why do you always stare at people like that- you make them uncomfortable. Reyes scolded herself as she watched another flight attendant, a brunette, pop out from behind the curtains. She seemed to be knocking on the bathroom door with a pregnant woman beside her. “He’s been in there since everybody boarded, he’s probably doing drugs or something. Fucking hell I can smell the smoke as we speak,” The moody woman tried to say this quietly, but it was obvious that everyone was easily managing to eavesdrop. “Sir, you can’t smoke in the bathrooms,” The flight attendant knocked on the door, leaning in slightly to await an answer. There was none.

Reyes lifted a brow, (a common thing you'll find her doing whenever she's side-eyeing someone) she had encountered a good amount of these kinds of people in her life, with little to no respect for the others in the plane when it came to its rules, but the guy was seriously being stubborn about it. Reyes looked out the window, pretending she was focusing on something else, but in all reality, she was just listening in on the only drama that would be on this damned 7-hour flight.

She saw the profile of someone in front of her doing the same thing. They were a smaller young woman, perhaps 17 or 18 years old, who sat beside someone with dark brown hair that had some aged silver streaks in their hair; one who could’ve been her father. Reyes couldn’t tell, as she could only spot the top patch of hair sticking out from the blue cotton seats when it came to who sat beside the teen.

A sudden low growl sounded from her stomach, indicating that it needed more substances to fill its endless abyss. I literally ate a whole ass meal just an hour ago. Reyes sighed, digging into one of her many pockets to pull out a bag of almonds. Plane snack food wasn’t the best, but it was there for the bored nibbles. She popped a few into her mouth, eyes trained on the airport’s building. The windows allowed for one to easily see through them, perfect for people watching.

That’s when Reyes caught movement in the airport. I mean, sure people obviously walked around, but this time around it seemed like a little… too much movement? That couldn’t be right. She squinted, the conversation between the flight attendant and the man in the bathroom fading out. Reyes hunched over a bit, practically pressing her face against the window. She could somewhat see through the glass into the airport building, but was she just watching luggage move? It did look pretty fast, but illusions always got the best of Reyes. Her face was now actually pressed against the small window as she studied it. Those were people. People who were sprinting at a panicked rate… Why?

Before Reyes could muster any words, a woman from behind her had the same thought. “What’s going on in there?” Most of the people who were on the right side of the plane began to lean over each other, trying to spot the movement in the building’s windows. Those who were stuck on the left side kept asking what it was, trying to peer through their neighbor’s windows- but from such a distance they couldn’t see anything.

Reyes watched as a figure was tackled to the ground, and concern began to grow. She reached to unbuckle her belt, her warm fingers beginning to caress the cold metal buckle. What was going on inside? If there was something wrong in there didn't that mean that the plane wasn’t going to take off anytime soon? It’d probably be best if everyone was escorted off the plane, but the flight attendants did no such thing. There was no soft voice ringing through the plane telling everybody to leave. There were just murmurs.

That’s when she heard it. A scream. Her eyes widened at such a noise as she attempted to find the source. The attendant who was knocking on the bathroom door had her back against it, holding it closed as the man inside bumped what seemed to be his entire body against it. The door was jolting open a few inches, but the brunette managed to keep it closed with her entire body wait against it, with the added pressure of her feet pressing against the wall. She was holding up her hand with a panicked face—it was bloodied. Reyes unbuckled her seatbelt entirely this time, somewhat standing up. The blonde attendant was panicked but urged everyone to get back into their seats. “What's going on?” A man shouted from behind, causing others to join in on the confusion.

The blonde ran to her side, quickly grabbing a bandage and wrapping it around it, mainly to stop the prying eyes from seeing the amounts of blood that trickled down her wrists traveling to her forearms and dripping off her elbow. Things didn't calm down, not even in the slightest. The brunette started to shake somewhat, was she seizing?

“Oh fuck,”

Reyes muttered, her eyes strained on the woman. She had never experienced this in all her years of traveling. “Somebody call 911!” The pregnant woman, who was freaking out practically screamed over the sea of murmuring. At her call, the old couple across from Reyes began to frantically pull out their phones and dial the number. Even through all the panic, Reyes could hear the ringing that sounded from multiple phones.

Reyes's heart thumped, dropping down to her stomach as she watched the poor brunette twist and turn in agony. White foam started to form and drip from her mouth. After what seemed like ages the woman stopped moving altogether. The blonde was frantically tapping on her face before she placed her index finger on her throat to feel for a pulse. Only being a few rows behind the people who were closest to the whole scene, Reyes could see the brunette's eyes shoot open. They were almost bloodshot, filled with a certain type of anxiety that seemed to turn into aggression the moment that her eyes locked onto the blonde. To her surprise, the brunette had looked her friend dead in the eyes and lunged at her throat.

Reyes thought she was confused at first, but now she really was confused. Was this some sort of prank? Was some guy going to pop out from the bathroom with a whole camera crew and start asking what they would've done in such a scenario?

If Reyes didn't know any better, she would've just thought that the brunette was just a bit too excited to give this poor blonde woman a hickey. At this point, she had pinned the blonde to the ground, whose arms were splayed out and limp. This was... kinky to say the least. Everyone seemed to just stand there in shock before the red began to really show up. Mind you, this had all happened in just a matter of a few seconds, so every normal human being was acting like a deer in headlights, too shocked to have such a fluent reaction to such a scene.

Another scream sounded, this time from the people who watched the whole scene go down. This time, Reyes also stood up. People could only watch as the blonde struggled to pry her friend off of her-- or was she seizing too? The two violently thrashed around until the brunette got off and struggled to stand up, leaving the blonde to flop over on her side and kick out as if she was trying to get up by running.

Reyes watched as the brunette's head tilted back, exposing her throat to the whole world. Red, thick blood dripped down her mouth and onto her clothes. What the actual fuck is happening.

Reyes eyes somehow got wider as she watched the blonde struggle and thrash around on the ground behind the brunette. She didn't know who to focus on. Her eyes darted up to the one who was already up as they swayed left and right, seemingly trying to get the hang of standing. This whole ordeal lasted only about 5 seconds before her head snapped forward and locked onto a guy who was running to help them. He had slowed to a quick stop, realizing that she had locked eyes with him. With an unholy, guttural noise that could have only been made from the depths of her throat, the brunette launched herself at him.

This wasn't some thin valley girl tackle, no, she tackled him like she was some kind of NFL player beefed up on steroids. The man, who probably stood at about roughly 6 foot, was sent flying back a few feet, landing just beside Reyes.

Now, with a first-class view of the whole scenario, Reyes jolted up against the window of the plane and screamed. She was on him. Her mouth was ripping out his throat in such smooth movements that it looked like it took no effort. The man tried to scream, but before he could muster one, he too began to shake. Now, everyone in the plane began to panic, screaming filled the air, which caused the brunette to look up- and to Reyes's disdain, her eyes made contact with her. They were dilating as she focused on Reyes, foam mixed with blood dripping in thick bunches as they both seemed to process the situation. The same guttural noise sounded as the brunette leaped off the man, heading in Reyes’s direction. She swore she never came so close to shitting herself.


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