Atlas Pan Booker | Male | Hunter | Heterosexual | M: Rowan Caddel, Calvin Borelson

Atlas watched as the first giant, Calvin he remembered, began to speak. He had almost forgotten that he was there due to the second giant’s—Rowan’s—interruption. He remembered his name now but he had almost lost it. His memory wasn’t the finest when it came to people but it was an uphill fight that he was getting too tired to battle much longer. It wasn’t like he could help it. Rowan began to speak dangerously as he played with his switchblade and approached him. He kept his arrow trained at the ginger giant, leaving the blond alone and safe from any danger of a stomach piercing. However he didn’t shoot because he was right, he couldn’t shoot a fellow member even if he was acting like a paranoid jerk.

He felt the cold touch of the steel blade on his throat. The sharp knife tickled his neck a little bit, but it definitely had his attention. Atlas stared cooly into Rowan’s sharp green eyes that had a sheen of mistrust in them. He listened intently to what the ginger giant had to say, if he didn’t then he could die. It was obvious that this man’s faith was to be earned by acts and not reputation. Atlas had to smile a little bit, this moment was surely neither of their finest. Teammates turning on teammates due to lack of recognition. We should really be better introduced with everyone. Might save a life, he thought, might’ve saved my life if I was going to die.

“Can I prove it?” Atlas asked with a condescending look. “Yeah,” he looked over at Calvin who was definitely seemed more friendly, “that man’s name is Calvin.” His eye contact returned to stare into Rowan’s meadow-green and his dirt-dark eyes narrowed their almond shapes. He was getting sick of this back and forth bravado between themselves. They were after all on the same team. However, he couldn’t help on more scuffle, even if it was only verbal.“And you’re Rowan the Jackass. Is that enough proof to you, Newcomer?” He strained this last word to remind Rowan of his seniority.

Rowan pressed the knife down with more pressure. Atlas could feel a little trickle of blood, like one from a razor only that this cut would be so much worse if more pressure would be applied. He then relaxed the bowstring. Not because the monstrous tower of a person told him to, however, but because he knew that his words would have told him that he was truly apart of the group. However, he didn’t removed the arrow from the string and back into his hip quiver, mainly because Rowan was too close for him to unnotch the arrow with the grace and ease that he preferred. Besides, it wouldn’t hurt his weapon.

He then heard what Calvin had to put in. Oh wow, this was romantic in this guy’s book. Hmm, I like this guy, he thought, but turn ginger giant into a sexy blonde. Then he heard him refer and he decided to respond, as it would be the friendly thing to do.

“I’m sorry Calvin,” he said and changed his eye contact to the more friendlier face. He had to stop himself from saying “Cal” as it would be pushing for any friendship too hard and it would be wrong and awkward in this situation. “I’ve never been good with names. ‘Makes you feel any better, I’ve forgotten the name of my biological pops.” This was more or less true, but wasn’t exactly a lie. His biological father’s name was Helios but he could remember how to pronounce it or how to spell it. “I’m Atlas. Iapetus was—is my actual father.” He corrected himself to the more positive output. He wouldn’t be surprised if he was dead as he didn’t do much physical exercise before the apocalypse. “So, Rowan, buddy, are you going to, I dunno, let me go?” He returned his gaze to the guy with the knife at his throat. “Am I free to go now? ‘Cause those houses aren’t going to sweep themselves.”

Louis Lee Jackson | Male | Gay | Observer | M: Kolos, Valentina, + Grayson (Dir)

Kolos was a cool guy and Valentina was a cool girl. Neither bothered him much and neither seemed to be huge assholes. Louis, while not a fan of much human interaction, was completely fine in the company of these two. That much couldn’t be said of some of the other members who were always climbing to the opportunity to bother him… Honestly, it was as if they craved his glares and cruel stares that prayed for God to strike them dead where they stood. Really, deep, deep, and several layers deeper down, Louis didn’t mind their idiocy. Fifty percent of the time.

“Oh, you got pills?” Louis asked softly, perking up as he sat up and extended a hand up to the man to get them. “Let me take a look. I have seen- and taken- my fair share of drugs so I am sure I can figure out what they all are.” As soon as Kolos handed him the pills, he inspected the label of the first bottle. Studying it, he could be heard muttering under his breath as he squinted at it. The soft mandarin color pill bottle still contained a decent amount of pills which was good considering what they were. “If I remember correctly, this one helps with pain. It makes your tongue feel a bit fuzzy, but it works wonders. I was force fed these things at one point… It tastes bitter.” Louis paused, placing the pills down on the ground as he observed the next container, sitting criss-cross to focus better. Louis paused for a moment before laughing to himself. “Holy fuck! Unisom! Never thought I’d see this again!” Louis showed a mischievous smirk to Kolos as he showed him the bottle. “This gives you trippy ass dreams, but it puts you to sleep like a baby on crack. And to think those morons didn’t think I knew they were feeding these to me! Ha! Fucking idiots!!” Louis laughed to himself before his smile faded quickly. He quickly opened his duffle bag and put the pills in the bag beside others pills, tapping the bag with slight pride. “All packed away and safe. That’s all of them right?”

That’s when Grayson revealed himself. Grayson was the absolute best person imaginable. Well, not the best, but as close to the best as anyone in Louis’s life has come to be. It was about a year ago when Grayson brought him to the group and, although it took time to warm up to the man, Louis found him to be one of the closest people in his life. It was somewhat disappointing and depressing to think Grayson most likely didn’t care for him as much, but Louis still looked up to him a lot. He acted like his father before everything went down and it was nice to have someone in his life who actually seemed grounded.

Agris ‘Blair’ Bairugih | M | Gay | Loner | 21 | Mentions; Eden, Open.

Blair had just gotten comfortable in the tree when he saw someone sit underneath it. Shit. Why now? Well, maybe he’d be able to kill him and get some stuff. That would be nice. So slowly and quietly, he grabbed his CJ Yari and made his way to somewhere he’d be able to stab the dude with it.

--

He risked a look and- Holy shit, was that Jackson? He leaned further to get a better look, and then went tumbling out of the tree. Luckily, he ended up landing in front of the guy, who may be Jackson, so he turned in a swift motion grabbing his CJ Yari for if it wasn’t J.

--

It wasn’t. Blair could tell that much as soon as he saw the neck. The terrible sense of fashion was the same, the square face, the dark hair, the pale skin, the eye. But Jackson also had a tattoo that matched his own. So eyes narrowing, Blair put the CJ Yari’s sharp ends to his throat.

--

Only he kept imagining Jackson now. Fuck. He shouldn’t have allowed himself to think about Ryan and The Hunger Games. This wouldn’t have happened otherwise.

--

He huffed and placed the CJ Yari on the good nearby. Fine, he’ll fix up the man’s wound and then tell him to fuck off and find his own tree. Yeah. He has enough bandages for that, right? Yeah, probably. He stole three whole medkits recently. “You steal my weapon, I have two karambits that’ll love to do the job instead. Or a Glock. Take your pick. I’m going to get gauze and if I have any, some rubbing alcohol and a rag. Don’t move, bitch.”

--

Okay, the insult wasn’t necessary but Blair was not taking it back. He climbed back into the tree where his stuff had been organized and looked for where he had placed the medkit stuff. Ah, two rolls of medical rank gauze, two relatively full bottles of rubbing alcohol, and a kind of clean rag. Good enough. He grabbed the stuff and jumped down from the tree.

--

He turned to the Jackson lookalike and sat down in front of him. “You gonna let me do this or am I wasting my time? I honestly want to know, because if this is a waste of time then you can go ahead and leave. Otherwise, take off the shitty bandage job you did so I can fix it before it gets infected somehow.”

Kolos ‘Kol’ Seare | M | Bi | Newcomer | 24 | Mentions; Louis, Valentina, Grayson, Open.

“Oh, you got pills?” Kolos nodded, grabbing the three bottles from his bag and passing one to him. There wasn’t a reason to overwhelm him with the three all at once, it’d go faster if Kol just handed one at a time. “Let me take a look. I have seen- and taken- my fair share of drugs so I am sure I can figure out what they all are.”

--

Kol watched as Louis began to work, not going to question what was just said yet. “If I remember correctly, this one helps with pain. It makes your tongue feel a bit fuzzy, but it works wonders. I was force fed these things at one point… It tastes bitter.” Kol nodded and handed him the next bottle.

--

And then Louis started laughing, which had Kol raising an eyebrow at him. “Holy fuck! Unisom! Never thought I’d see this again! This gives you trippy ass dreams, but it puts you to sleep like a baby on crack. And to think those morons didn’t think I knew they were feeding these to me! Ha! Fucking idiots!! All packed away and safe. That’s all of them right?”

--

Kolos actually had to chuckle at that, about to hand him the last bottle when Grayson appeared. “Louis, what ya need, bud?” Kol decided to wait after that, seeing as interrupting a leader anywhere was always a bad idea. And then Grayson looked at him and Valentina. “Since you two seem so busy, you wouldn't mind looking at the end? There's some buildings that I'm pretty sure nobody's looked at just yet.”

--

Don’t talk back, Seare, just do it. His mother had said it to him once, and it was a mantra in almost any conversation or situation where someone held more authority than he did. They had the authority for a reason. So he nodded and stood, placing the last pill bottle on the ground next to Louis. Hearing as Valentina spoke he tensed ever so slightly, deciding if she was going to say something it would be better to just keep walking. “Of course, Grayson. I'll be back shortly.”

--

Oh. Alright. He didn’t think that would get her into any trouble, given how fair Grayson usually seems to be. So he returned to going to one of the further houses down the street. He wouldn’t study it, he would never study a house’s appearance. It didn’t do anyone any good.

--

He stepped in and made sure the coast was clear of any of the ill-fated creatures. It seemed to be. And then he smelled it, rotting flesh. He couldn’t tell what level the decay was at, he’d need to see the body too, but it wasn’t a creature. The stench was different, and he knew this one better.

--

He prepared himself for the worst and began making his way inside. Was he supposed to report dead bodies? Like, actual dead bodies? He hasn’t heard anyone else do so, so he would just wait and see if he should. He stepped into another room, scanning it. No ill-fated creature but… Blood on the wall. He didn’t bother to read what it said. It didn’t matter. The people were long dead by now.

--

He made his way into the kitchen and checked the pantry. Some canned beans. Why was everyone obsessed with getting beans in an apocalypse? Why couldn’t someone have done potatoes or military rations? Those worked fine too, if not better than the beans would. He sighed and grabbed the beans, putting them into his bag. He checked under the kitchen sink, not much there. He’d find either the broom closet or a bathroom next, this one was smaller than the last one he’d been in anyways.

Atlas Pan Booker | Male | Hunter | Heterosexual | M: Rowan Caddel, Calvin Borelson

Atlas eyes went dull yet glaring and his eyebrows were arched when Rowan claimed to be able to dodge arrows. His facial expression plainly had a sarcastic “really?” written all on it. He doubted anyone could dodge one, even if it was shot from a weak fifteen pound bow. However, he decided not to challenge him on it because things were just wrapping up and he felt like he needed to get back to work.

His appearance didn’t change much when the ginger giant put an inflection on his own ranking. So what? He was a hunter; someone with enough survival skills and seniority to have an important job.

“Okay,” Atlas agreed when Rowan told him not to call him ‘buddy.’ “I will then call you Giant Coyote Man. They do, after all, say that a master and his dog share common features.” He then waved the ginger giant and his ugly brute goodbye with a smug smile on his face. Then he changed direction to Calvin and he couldn’t help but like the big blond. He smiled to himself, ginger giant and big blond. Why did that tickle me so much? He didn’t know and didn’t care to investigate. “Sorry for the whole threatening thing, Calvin,” He said in a friendlier tone then what he used for Rowan. “You can never know these days, y’know. Anyway, wanna go scavenging with me? We can cover houses twice as fast.”

Whether Calvin agreed and followed him or not, Atlas turned for the door with his bow relaxed and arrow still notched. He didn’t forget his bag of supplies. Since this building was already occupied with other group members he didn’t bother searching it—assuming that they already did when they secured it.

When he went outside, he couldn’t help but relish in the soft summer warmth. The air was comfortable but not a heavy, compressing humidity that the southeast had a tendency to carry. However, it was drier than what he preferred but it didn’t downcast the good weather. His noble horse was still in front of the building where he had left him. This time, however, most all the clover was well spent.

“Good boy, fatty,” he murmured to his horse with a good natured tone. His horse was not fat, however, but actually slowly edging towards underweight, but in the times of plenty he had been known to carry a swollen belly. “Let’s go raiding some.” Wyn didn’t answer but instead tried to steal another bite of grass as his master led him away and to another house which was a fairly decent size. Atlas left his horse in the backyard as there was a decent-ish amount of greenery there. Plus the front yard was nonexistent as it was directly in front of the sidewalk.

He entered the front door and walked carefully through the first room which seemed to be an art studio. The majority the paints were splattered everywhere and there were dried drops of brown that didn’t look like either acrylics or watercolor. There were a couple of clean notebooks both of them were a decorative leather. A couple of drawing pencils were on the floor and some where on the messy desk. There was also a fine tip sharpie too. Atlas took the notebooks, gathered as many pencils as he could plus the sharpie. On the walls of the studio there were pieces of modern art that this ill-fatted artist probably painted themselves. He didn’t bother looking through some of the drawers as it would be pointless supplies for art. And unfortunately art isn’t needed.

Eden Milos Nedbalek - Male - Outsider - Mentions: Blair, Open

Eden pressed up his back against the cool bark, knife in one hand and bandages in the other as he wrapped the wounds on his hand. His right was the one that he’d cut, and given that that was his dominant hand, the wrapping job was messy. Not to mention painful, too — his fingers would often brush against the deep gashes during his work, which most certainly didn’t help his aim. He held up his hand through a gap in the foliage of the trees, letting the light shine upon his wounds so that he could at least marginally improve his work.

He retracted it pretty damn quick, though, when someone came tumbling down from above him.

Eden must’ve picked a bad spot, he figured as some guy came down, basically falling onto his ass. Judging by how rough the fall was (which was kind of hilarious to him, but that was besides the point), the guy’d been resting in the tree above him and fell out when Eden came to settle there. Maybe he should’ve looked up before he chose his spot, he thought, a thought that was reinforced when the stranger thrust up his weapon against his throat.

God fucking damn it.

This was the second time today, and it was kind of getting stale. The look on his face could really only be described and completely and utterly unimpressed, staring at the redhead like he’d just attempted and miserably failed a magic trick.

The man huffed and removed his weapon (coward), allowing Eden to lean back forward and look back down to his hand, initially attempting to just ignore the stranger entirely. He’d had his fun for today and if this guy wasn’t going to try fighting him, he didn’t have to bother with him. It didn’t matter to him, either way.

What did make him look up, however, was the guy saying he was going to get alcohol and a rag. He paused in his movement of cutting off more bandages and looked up to him, blank expression turning to incredulous as he went from threatening to… helpful, he guessed? The guy even left his weapon with him (albeit not before telling Eden not to steal it, but that in itself was far too much trust to place in a shady-looking stranger). All he was able to get out was an “uh” before the guy walked past him, climbing up the tree he’d been sitting against.

Somewhat disoriented, Eden kicked out his legs (partially because he needed to stretch and partially just because the guy told him not to move) and glanced over at the weapon that had been left behind. He’d seen it before, he was sure, but he didn’t kn — actually, who was he kidding, he knew perfectly well where the knowledge was from. Still, even as he tilted his head back and furrowed his brow, trying to recall as hard as he can all the useless (not so useless now, he supposed) knowledge he’d been given, he couldn’t recall what it was.

It was Japanese, he was sure. It started with a S — or maybe a Y? He might’ve been confusing it with some other weapon from Japan… Yeah, there was one with a bunch of branches that started with a S. A shi-whatever. Eden supposed there wasn’t much of a point in considering it for too long, though. He didn’t know how to wield it, either way, so there was no point in stealing it.

Eden had just turned back to his bandages again when he heard a loud THUD in front of him. Heaving a sigh, he pulled back from his hand and leaned forward over his lap, letting his arms rest over his legs so that he could look this guy in the eyes as he sat down in front of him. He was carrying rags and small bottles he figured held the alcohol he promised — Eden must’ve been doing something right when he was on his own, then.

What did he think he was doing, anyway? He really couldn’t tell what he was getting at — he threatens him and then decides to help him, all the while acting like the helping part was some kind of obligation? Was he a fan, or was he just strange?

Eden leaned forward a bit more, just about staring the man down. Cool gray eyes flickered over his face, searching for something he wouldn’t find. He wasn’t sure what he was looking for, really — he knew that he wouldn’t be able to tell the man’s story from his face alone, didn’t care about the man’s morals, didn’t care whether there was naivety or hardened bitterness in his eyes. He didn’t even really care whether this was a trick or not — it was certainly an interesting offer, and if there was poison in those bottles of his, there was only one way to find out.

In the end, Eden shrugged, pulled back, and still with his perfectly unreadable and disinterested expression, took his knife in his hand and slashed off the bandages on his right. He held it out to the stranger, a slight line of blood bubbling where his knife’d run.

"Go for it."