Tensions run high as supplies grow thin, and with a small herd of zombies walking around outside, going after for more supplies will just lead to unnecessary casualties. With little to no ammo, it's a suicide mission. But staying there any longer might get them killed anyways. A decision must be made, and soon. It's only a matter of time before a large group of zombies swarms the motel...
Without any gas though... will it be safe to walk on foot?
Current Inventory: -Locket of Daughter -Steel katana -P229 (7 bullets)
It's been weeks since the beginning. The beginning of this hellstorm of undead apocalypse. Almost like a punishment sent by the almighty, to smite humanity for its wrongdoing. Maybe it was a warning to them that they were getting too comfy. And perhaps they were.
Whatever the case, a blackette female, wielding a katana over her shoulders, sat in her chair, looking at the two men sitting opposite her. Her outfit composed of a half-jacket, a skin tight leotard (kinda), accompanied by tan pants. The woman sat, legs crossed, just staring. Her eyes were brown, her hair covering a good portion of her forehead, and came down to beside or right above her eyes. She was known as Cana.
To her left, was an older gentleman who had to readjust his glasses upon his nose. He sported a cross on the right of his right glasses lens, and a cigarette in his mouth. His eyes brown as Cana's, but his physique was much more... hardened through the torn-sleeved trenchcoat he had on. Below was a standard pair of jeans underneath. Not to mention the many scars on his body. His mouth held little to no expression, thanks to the lit cigarette in his mouth. He was known as Ed.
To her right, a Chinese-American man sat, younger than her by a few years. His gaze was cold, sporting purple eyes that looked like a blood-thirsty killer's. It probably wouldn't be a shot in the dark to say that he hadn't done it before, especially with those killer eyes hiding behind that dark hair. He wore a frown, but for many reasons. His shirt was a standard black-button-up, with khakis sitting under it. A gun rack stood on his body, holding his pistol, always ready to end an argument if needed to. He was known as Norton.
The three sat around a square table, Cana in the middle as she looked at a map laid spread out in front of it, revealing to the three the surrounding area. Cana looked at the map, and nodded. She spoke "-okay, so you're saying if we head south, make our way to Kansas, there might be a bun-", but was cut off.
"Absolutely not. Chet isn't back yet, and I'm not leaving without my little brother." Norton glared at the other two, showing his distaste for the plan to move south, closer to Kansas. His stare didn't falter for a second, his purple eyes looking inside their souls.
Ed showed his concerns for Norton's interruptions, looking at the blackette. "Been a few days, kid. Wouldn't doubt if the poor boy were to be dea-" he spoke honestly, but was interrupted by a desk slamming from the younger male. The two stared each other down, both of them ready to pounce in a moment's notice.
Cana pushed both away from one another. "Alright boys, enough. You've been at each other's throats since Chet left!" the female said, hands on her hips, frowning. The reaction was a glare from the Chinese man. Cana continued. "Ed. How many days do you think we can stay here." The woman stared at the older man, her slanted, showing her seriousness.
"We can stay 'ere forever, if you don't mind taking up cannabilism!" the old man's voice was full of sarcasm, looking at the other two with a very sarcastic smile on his face. He and Norton exchanged another glare again, and within seconds, they were about to strangle one another. Or at least, Norton was about to pull his Desert Eagle out. Until Cana touched her blade, glaring at Norton. The blackette backed down. Ed started up again. "...we have twenty-four hours to start moving." he said, pulling out his cigarette, and sticking it in the nearby ash tray.
Cana nodded, her eyes looking to Norton. He wasn't exactly happy about it, but he knew they were right."Fine. Leave him to die." he glared again, stomping out of the room, anger shown through his clenched fists, and his now clenched teeth. He slammed the door behind him.
All Cana could do at that point was sigh. She felt her head turn back, holding a hand to her face as she breathed out. It wasn't that she didn't want to save Chet. It was just... they didn't have the ammo to spare right now, and being gone four days... for a fourteen-year-old? She didn't want them to be chasing ghosts for any amount of time when they should be defending themselves. Working efficiently and restocking on supplies.
It wasn't always like this. Cana herself had family before the start of this outbreak. The mere thought of that family made her grab onto her locket. She shook her head furiously, hoping not to bring the tears that kept her up at night. The same tears that never stopped unless she slept. The same tears that brought her so much pain...
She grasped her locket tightly into her hand. What... if it were her own kin? Cana felt misplaced in all this. And Ed, realizing that she zoned out, decided to walk outside. "Going out for a smoke." he stated, as he opened and closed the door, letting the woman have her space. She seemed to really need it right now.
Cana just stood there, thinking of their next move...
Current Inventory: -Pocket Watch -Russian Bomber Hat -Yoyo -Smith and Wesson Model 59 (no bullets)
On the other hand, the red-haired boy sat with his grey neck-button-up shirt and jeans combo on a lawn chair he moved outside of one of the rooms, sitting calmly in the parking lot slash defense grid. His red hair was a little weird, crossing over his nose, but not over his light red irises. He could see perfectly. And he wore an expression that looked like a mix between sadness and happiness, yet not neutral. Not only that, but he seemed deep in thought over countless things. Pulling out his own gun, he ran his fingers over it.
For one, he watched as his mother was devoured by the undead. Her final words cursed the boy for not at least attempting to help. And how could he? He was frozen stiff at that moment; the only reason he lived was because that old fart saved his a** at the last second.
"Watcha doin, Wally?"
Instantly, Wally was snapped out of his previous thoughts, and freaked out, flipping over the lawn chair and smacking his head on the ground. Crying out in pain, the male got up, grabbing his head in the same pain shown clearly from his eyes watering. Such a wimp, was he. All he heard though was a lovely giggle, created by one Sarah McKinnley.
Sarah donned expensive clothing, her blonde hair flowing down to cover her back. Her eyes shown a pseudo-innocence that anyone could see through, but her smile said differently. Moving down, she donned a skirt of medium length, and an ordinary rich people's shirt. Not a drop of blood was on her clothes either, while instead, the blood was all on the woman next to her.
The woman escorting her was a maid, taller than the other female. Her silver hair traveled down her expressionless face, her eyes blue staring ahead at the redhead. In a classic maid outfit, covered in a bit of dried blood. She were black knee-high socks, and brown shoes. Her eyes looked cold. "..."
"Oh. Just you two. Hey. I'm just... doing nothing." the redhead laughed awkwardly.
"Aw. That's not nice! " she placed her hand in front of her, checking her nails. Her tone was less than apathetic. She didn't really care about Wally. "I'm somebody. Remi here is just no one!" she puffed her cheeks out. Of course, it was all for show. The maid next to her clenched her fists, but said nothing.
Wally didn't reply. His mind was too preoccupied right now to deal with it. He sighed, and continued on with his memories. He remembered how Ed managed to save him from three of those... things. Yes. Things. They weren't people. Shot em in a row, one bullet, three heads. Managed to save the poor boy before he got bitten. Then, the two ran into an alleyway, climbed a fence, and managed to get here, with the rest of the group. He hadn't even thanked the man yet for saving hi-
"Hehe! Tell me!" the female flirted poked the redhead in the eyes. While they were open. The poor boy began rolling around, tearing up from the pain that followed. And it really... really hurt. Sarah skipped away, Remi following without a word.
"Seriously. What'd I get myself into?" he sighed in relief as they left. He glanced to the deep blue sky.
Frowning, the male kept thinking about the deep past. He clenched his fists, thinking yet again. On another thought though.
Before all this, he was just a delivery boy for pizza. He drove to people's places in his car, and gave people their pizzas. Usually, he'd run late so the pizza was free. And then his mother would yell at him everyday for being every bit inferior to his brother. The woman even thought about disowning him for being useless in whatever he did. But it wasn't his fault; not at all! He had no excellent skills... no talents. And definitely not the luck of his brother. He just wasn't that good... at anything. And she made it known everyday.
The thought brought a stiff neutral expression to his face. He bit his bottom lip. "...lucky I'm alive, even now." the boy chuckled to himself, but gave a sad smile seconds after it. He looked back to the gun of his, but not before pulling his hat, only a few inches away from him, onto his head. A Russian bomber hat; black with brown fur. It seemed to fit him.
((OOC: Alrighty. Episode 1 is open for posting. All of my NPCs, excluding Chet, are available if you need them; honor their usage. Also, Wally and Cana are free to rp with anyone.))
From her vantage point on the roof, Darya could watch over the motel from all angles - as best she could, of course. There were, unfortunately, a few blind spots she had no control over, but as long as no one made a ruckus from inside or ran around outside like an idiot, there was very little to worry about. There hadn't been any signs of a horde anywhere near the motel, but there was a smaller herd to contend with. When stragglers broke off from the main group, she'd taken care of them. No gunshots, of course, but plenty of use for her kukri blades.
Cigarette dangling idly from her mouth, Darya paced the rooftop, boot clad feet not making a sound. One eye was on the large motel sign to her left. The urge to scramble up it to perch on the top was strong. It was higher than the building, so it made for a better watching post. It would also be a pain to go up and down from. Or worse. Be trapped up on.As much as she loved to climb and jump, the last thing she wanted was to be stuck up a tree like a cat cornered by a dog.
Her hand reached into her pocket for her trusty zippo lighter. Her supply of cigarettes were dwindling. One a week was all she allowed herself now. There was no telling when she would be able to get her hands on more, after all. She had never been a heavy smoker before the outbreak, smoking only three or five a week at most, so there was no bother of withdrawal. It was just a nice treat to have once in a while, especially at a time like this.
She flicked the lighter open, then closed it again. The others were safely tucked in the building below her feet. Cana had gathered old Ed and Nort together to go over future plans. Everyone else and the kids were doing ******** knows all. It didn't mater to her as long as they were quiet about it - Little Davey most of all. At least up on the roof she had some privacy; to get up here you needed some climbing ability. Only part of the reason she offered to hold watch.
The lighter was flicked open several more times before she finally sparked a flame. Her other hand moved to quickly cup a hand over it as she lowered her head to ignite the end of her cigarette. Another flick and the lighter found it's way back into her pocket. She took a long drag on the cigarette, slowly cocking her head back as she rolled the smoke around in her mouth. Her face was one of relief as she exhaled, tendrils of smoke curling around her nostrils.
Things were looking bad at the moment. Food was low, as well as ammo (she had a total amount of 57 bullets left) and then there was the herd of milling zombies listlissly drifting around the motel. She pulled the cigarette away from her lips to blow another puff of smoke carelessly into the air. It was only a matter of time before the herd attracted more undead bastards. When that time came, they would be forced to fight if the zombies tried to storm the motel. Or scatter and run for safety - the cars were useless, as they were right now.
To Darya, there were three possibilities: wait around with their thumbs jammed up their asses, annihilate the herd before it got bigger, or risk sending one or two people out for supplies. Either way, they could not continue staying here.
She took a moment to shirk her duties, bringing the knees of her long legs into her chest as she laid on the cold tin of the cheap roof. Trails of smoke drifted upwards, to that large, ghoulish orb in the sky. Normally when she gazed up at the moon, there followed a desire to fly up to it and punch a hole in its center so that it resembled a giant donut in the sky. Her knees pulled away from her chest to rest her feet flat on the tin top. Her break would be declared over when her cigarette had gone out. Until then, she used her keen ears to listen for any disturbances in the still night - one of which sounded like Young and Clumsy Wallace.
Gear: - Large Bowie Knife - A pair of Kukri machetes - Glock G17 xxx- 19 rounds in chamber, 2 remaining clips: 57 bullets[/i]
Posted: Sat Mar 02, 2013 10:58 pm
[O S C A RG A R I O C H]
In the backpack :: - Some clothes for Oscar and David - Meager bits of food - Band-Aids and a little other basic medicine stuff. Nothing really helpful. On hand :: - Baseball Bat
Oscar grumbled a little as he walked around the upper level of the complex. Wally was down in the parking lot while Darya and David had the roof covered. Oscar wasn't entirely sure what to do with his time. Taking a moment to lean again a wall, he gently tapped his bat against the floor as he thought. He wanted to look for Chet. He was the only person close to his own age that he felt he could talk to. Sarah certainly wasn't someone he would go to if he wanted to pass the time. He could see the way she used Wally even, but he seemed either oblivious or happy. It wasn't Oscar's place to intervene anyway, unless it was about to hurt someone. Being younger doesn't mean he's stupid. In fact, he was just happy to be getting older at this point.
When the group picked up Oscar and David, they had been in the midst of fighting their way through a house. Oscar could only work so fast, and David was on the verge of getting cornered. They had slept there with little worry, but some walkers had wandered in during the night, thankfully the boys had blockaded the stairs. If they really tried, yeah, the walkers could break through. But they never really seemed to try unless they knew something was on the other side. Ed and Darya themselves were the ones that ended up saving their asses. The boys were only too ready to join the group after that. Oscar was still wary, but he's learned to trust most of the current group. At the very least, their chances were much better with greater numbers.
Oscar glanced inside the room where some of the older members were chatting. And by chatting, Oscar meant yelling. He made sure to be well clear as Norton stormed out. The red head, though not the only red head, watched on as the man stalked away. His gaze came back to the door as Edwin came out. Oscar was still confused why he'd tell people that he was going to take a smoke break when he was usually already smoking. Oscar was worried Ed would give them all cancer before the walkers got them. Oscar nodded to the older man, receiving only a grunt as he lit up a new stick of whatever crap he was deciding to put in his mouth. Where the hell did he find all of these things?
Oscar looked away before following after Norton. Oscar could only imagine that Norton was going insane over the disappearance of his brother. Oscar would. But would the man do anything rash? Oscar would. Maybe he'd want help. David was okay at the moment, and Oscar wouldn't wander too far with Norton.
Pushing off the wall, Oscar ran around a bit until Norton was located. "H-Hey... What are you planning?"
On Hand :: - Mao-Mao the Stuffed Bunny In His Pockets - One Candy Bar - not stale
David kicked his feet a little over the edge of the motel roof. Mao-Mao was in his lap, and he was happy. More or less. He was being helpful. He was helping with the watch! He could point those pesky monsters out and then Darya would go and make them go away! Someone would, anyway. He felt better with her up on the roof anyway. It meant there was someone to get him down at almost all times.
There were few in the group that David had taken a shine to so far. Darya was one of them if only because she reminded him of his mother. Momma Garioch didn't take anyone's s**t. Momma seemed nicer more often though. But that didn't matter. He would find Mom and Dad again some day. Hopefully some day soon. Oscar kept telling him so. Oscar seemed hopeful, but David couldn't help but feel like Oscar was really worried most of the time. Not when they were under attack, times when they should have been resting. He didn't get it.
Swinging his legs up, David stood on the roof, scanning the horizon and noticing little. He didn't see anything special at the moment. He tried not to look down. Looking down always worried him since the first time he took his post on the roof. He would get really hurt if he fell, and no one needed that. He remembered one time when the whole walker thing started when David tripped and scratched his face. Oscar practically had a heart attack. Of course, it healed after a while, but Oscar kept checking on him as if the injury would cause David to burst into flame.
Shaking the thought away, David walked over closer to Darya and sat back down looking out in a different direction than her. It hadn't taken him too long to notice that she would sometimes start talking to him if he was just close. Sometimes, she didn't; and that was fine. Though he fell asleep a few times when she didn't speak to him. No one seemed very upset about it, but David himself was pretty disappointed in himself when that happened.
At any rate, he tried to get comfortable again. He situated Mao-Mao so David could play with the stuffed companion's ear. Oscar and Mao-Mao were all he had right now.
Current gear: Pocket knife Small marksmen hunting bow Backpack with week-long supplies 34 steel-tipped arrows
For Ren, two good things have happened so far. He found a few supplies, and he didn't die. This was especially good since leaving the motel for supplies wasnt a very good idea to start. Thank God that there was a back door for staff and few enough of 'them' to sneak past. Ren knew that even if they left, that exit would be a bad idea. Too little space. Too many of the undead for a whole group to push through. But even at that, they can at least survive a bit longer. He knew the food wouldn't last long and that they needed to escape. In the backpack that he carried, he was able to stash 3 cans of peaches, 2 cans of soup, 4 three-liter bottles of apple juice and sprite, and a box of crackers, along with 2 packs of cigarettes for Nee-chan. That's how he referred to Darya since he felt that she was closest to him. They talk ever now in then but whenever Ren is in trouble, Darya was always there. And maybe even a small crush for her started to develop.
After finding his way into the main building where most of the survivors were, he went straight to the rooftop where Nee-chan was, well not without having to climb up which was a pain. His upper body strength from martial arts helped him alot when climbing. After he made it to the top, he looked up to see Nee-chan sitting on the rooftop. "Nee-chan. I-I brought food supplies. And I also got you some more cigarettes." He looked to the left a bit and saw David sitting there. He smiled a bit as he walked over and pat David on the head.
The silence of the night was further disturbed by a soft scuffling sound. A bit too big to be a rat, but smaller than an adult. Little kid steps. Darya didn't have to turn her head to guess who it was. There was only one youngun here with such soft steps. David, or "Davey" as she called him. The sound of footsteps ceased somewhere near her as Davey took a seat, falling silent as always. She supposed some people would be unnerved by that, but to Darya, a quiet kid was a good one. Didn't even have to pull out the duct tape for this one.
She had no idea why, but it seemed like the kid had taken a liking to her. It was the only way she could rationale him following her around. He was like a cat - drawn to the ones that ignored him while avoiding the ones that gave too much attention, like that great lug, Rocky, for example. After what he'd did to Emma and that dog, Rocky was under strict orders not to pet or hug anything unless it was a zombie. It'd be hell if he got infected and didn't tell anyone...
"Rastsvetali iabloni i grushi, poplyli tumany nad rekoj. Vykhodila na bereg Katyusha, na vysokij bereg na krutoj..."Her voice rasped a bit as she sang, grinding the remnants of the cigarette into a stub on the roof top. The old Russian war song was literally the first thing to pop into mind in regards to David. She always a bit uneasy around kids, mostly because she didn't know how to entertain them. You couldn't treat them like adults or war buddies and go on about how you ******** that guy or screwed an ice pick into that guy...So she winged it. The old Slavonic tales she heard as a kid worked. Or nothing at all, when she couldn't be bothered to give a s**t.
She was just going over the chronological details of Otesanek when the sound of heavier footsteps reached her ears. Darya instinctively curled her legs close to her head, hands going back to lightly brace against the flat top. She sprang neatly onto the balls of her feet, reaching for and pulling free a kukri in a swift, fluid motion, spinning and pointing to face - "Oh. s**t, it's just you."There was a hint of disappointment in her voice. She twirled the machete in her hand before returning it to its sheath. Well, that was a waste of energy... "Damn reflexes. Gonna end up gutting someone on accident one day."At least he hadn't snuck up on her. Last time someone did that they got a broken nose.
Her hands reached out to relieve Ren of the cigarette packs and into one of the large pockets on her cargo pants. "Nick this from that old codger, eh~?"He may have something to say about that later, if he found out, that is. She shrugged off the offer of food. She wasn't hungry and would prefer not to be caught on a full stomach in case an emergency came up. Instead, she gestured towards Davey."Nah, I'm fine. Kid could use it more than I could. Hell, maybe even little Mao-Mao would like a kip?"This last part was a joke directed at David.
Gear: - Large Bowie Knife - A pair of Kukri machetes - Glock G17 xxx- 19 rounds in chamber, 2 remaining clips: 57 bullets
It was times like this Katja wondered how life would have been different if she hadn't left Germany. Oh, America was wonderful up until now. It was amazing to see the new sights and get the chance to learn her vocation in a new country. The only problem? Well...the whole 'endemic disease' wasn't exactly in the guidebook. She was seated up on a teeny little balcony hanging out of one of the motel rooms, deep in thought. She was trying to wrap her head around the idea of a dead body somehow getting back up...that was impossible. She'd been around enough dead bodies, human and animal. When they died, that was generally it. Yes, you could get the muscles to move with a current, and sometimes reflexes kept a body moving a little while after brain death, but a 'living' dead body? Impossible! As much as she tried to tell herself that, the evidence was right in front of her. Her brown hair was kept tied up in a ponytail like it usually was, and although some strands of hair were coming out, she tried to keep that little bit of civilization there. Her white coat had been tattered quite a bit since all of this began. The sleeves had been cut off at the elbow level and the hem was a mess of rips and water damage.
--- Fiammetta rarely left Katja's side. The Italian-American and the German had become almost inseparable, a pair of surrogate sisters. Fiammetta had been a later addition to the group, considering she'd been holed up in her dad's huge house. She was childish, to say the least, used to being pampered and cared for. If there was one thing she loved more than being around these people, it was fire. Ever since she was little, Fiammetta always had a particular fixation with fire. It never hurt her, but it always provided entertainment and had certainly saved her life from some of those ravenous dead men. Fiammetta was busy flicking her lighter on and off and staring into the fire out of boredom.
☠-ⓕiammetta ⓜarcello- ☠ Drawn together by the flame, we are just the same. Embrace the wind and fall into another time and space.
Current gear: Pocket knife Small marksmen hunting bow Backpack with week-long supplies 34 steel-tipped arrows
With a sigh of relief from being able to relax for a little bit, Ren dropped to the ground and started digging through the backpack to get David a small can of soup. After removing the soup and can opener, he popped off the top of the can and handed it to David. "There you go buddy. That should hold you for a while. And I got a little something extra for Mao-Mao." He reached into the side pocket, probing for the surprise he stashed in there. Finally, Ren pulled out a black stuffed bunny that was about the same size as Mao-Mao, but along with it came a small folded piece of paper.
At first, it looked like trash to him but after he took a second glance, he remembered. He remembered the note was from his mother, who died protecting her students at the highschool from a turned science teacher within the first week of the outbreak. Slowly reaching down to pick it up, memories of her smiling face began to flash violently through his head. He loved her so much.
After a single teared was shed, he couldn't bring himself to even touch the messily folded paper. He stood once again and kicked the the paper off of the rooftop, launching it quite a distance from him before it started to descend. After wiping his tears away, he took the black stuffed bunny and set it in David's lap. He then plopped his butt next to Darya. "Nee-san...Can you teach me how to kill?" There was now a cold aura about him. His eyes seemed as black as night. "Since you used to be a mercenary, you are the most skilled here. If you teach me, I could be just as skilled in killing those beasts."
On Hand :: - Mao-Mao the Stuffed Bunny - Some New Stuffed Bunny In His Pockets - One Candy Bar - not stale
David smiled as Darya started to sing a little. He could feel how awkward it was at first, but she seemed to get into it. He had no idea what it was about, or what the words even were. Hell, if he tried to recite it later he wouldn't even be able to make the right sounds. But he really appreciated the effort. Oscar couldn't sing. He didn't even try. And David was never a huge fan of reading before the upheaval of their world, so he was bored a lot. Anything to get through the intense boredom...
It was then that his gaze snapped to the side, his attention only really grabbed by the fact Darya had faltered a step in her song and then stopped singing all together. She was leaning over the side of the roof a little, ready to stab the s**t out of something. David hadn't heard any yelling, so a walker was unlikely. Though the lack of gunshots meant that they probably weren't being attacked. He had no idea what it was. Maybe it was a pony?! That would be stupid. David didn't actually think that.
He reset his gaze to looking out over the horizon as Darya relaxed and Ren climbed up to join them. David was okay with Ren. The boy wasn't about to run over and hug the guy, but David wasn't going to pull a disappearing act either. Listening to them speak was really all he would resort to at the moment. Though he knew when was being talked about. He tilted his head back a bit, looking to the pair while clenching Mao-Mao a little tighter. "Wassa' kip?" Seriously, what the hell was a kip?
It didn't take long for David to find out it was food. Before he could refuse, not being very hungry and otherwise not wanting to eat everything they had, Ren had already popped the top and was holding it out to him. David wouldn't waste it, not if he could help it. He took the can and set it next to him, away from the feet of his comrades, as apparently he was expecting something else. Something for Mao-Mao? David was ten, but he was aware that Mao-Mao wasn't a living thing. Were they? What tomfoolery was this? As Ren brandished another stuffed bunny, David smiled. NOTHING MATTERED NOW, MAO-MAO HAD A BUDDY. But now... there were two bunnies... OH GOD, THEY WERE GOING TO BE FLOODED IN THE NIGHT WITH STUFFED BUNNY BABIES!!
David didn't know about that though. He happily took the rabbit as it was passed to him, not even wondering what the hell Ren was doing kicking things around then. See? This was why he placed his soup away from them. "Thank you!" David exclaimed before plopping this new bunny down next to Mao-Mao. He would eat before he did anything else with the bunnies. He was told that no food could be wasted, and that if anything was opened, it should be consumed with as few distractions as possible. Getting to it, he treated it as if he were just drinking from a glass, albeit with a kind of thick and kinda of nasty textured drink. Would he complain? Not to an actual person.
(You punks only get outfits when I post for both.)
Darya dropped back to her spot beside David, tucking her knees into her chest as she watched Ren through half lidded, yet alert eyes. The kid with the magic backpack… She arched an eyebrow in amusement as he dug further in the bag for something for Mao Mao – a carrot, perhaps? An absurd idea since it was perishable and there had been scarcely a fresh vegetable in sight. What came out, instead, was a stuffed black rabbit, like David’s Mao-Mao, complete with a crumpled note."Aaah, how cute~. Like an interracial marriage. I bet their kits will be adorable."It was a shame they weren’t real rabbits, though. Otherwise they’d be eating a nice rabbit stew right about now – after raising a litter first, of course.
She frowned a bit as Ren kicked the piece of paper off the roof. Her first thought was on a possible zombie noticing said paper then noticing them before it alerted its undead brethren. The milling herd seemed to have taken interest in what looked like a small animal, however, and had their backs turned to the hotel. She turned her attention back to the boy himself. The tormented expression on his face was easy to read. Darya had no idea what significance the bunny or note had for him, but it was obviously bad. Her own expression was unreadable. Poker faces were suitable for other things besides card games, after all.
”Hmm…?”A bit curious than she let on, Darya lent Ren an ear. There wasn’t much to do for entertainment otherwise. She blinked a bit at his request. Teach him to kill? That wasn’t a question she was asked every day.”You must really hate litter, huh,”she teased. She wouldn’t say she was the most skilled, either – that could probably go to that old fart, if Ed wasn’t blowing smoke out his a**, that is. She gave a noncommittal shrug of her shoulders.”I s’pose I could – but I don’t equate killing zombies with killing humans. Like Shirou said, ‘People die when they are killed’ and all that jazz. No consequences either, heh~. Kind of boring, really…They can only succumb to brain damage…” She could teach him to be more effective at putting the dead to rest, but with more practical techniques than she would use on a non-infected human. Anything else she taught him would be for pesky rival groups of survivors.”Just don’t expect me to go easy on you, Archer.
((Meh post is meh))
Gear: - Large Bowie Knife - A pair of Kukri machetes - Glock G17 xxx- 19 rounds in chamber, 2 remaining clips: 57 bullets
