- Invitation Status
- Posting Speed
- 1-3 posts per week
- One post per week
- Slow As Molasses
- Online Availability
- I'm an afternoon and 1am poster lmao
- Writing Levels
- Adept
- Advanced
- Adaptable
- Preferred Character Gender
- Female
- Transgender
- Primarily Prefer Male
- Genres
- - Horror
- Paranormal
- Supernatural
- Biblical
- Sci Fi
- World War I II
- Roman / Greek
- 80s / 90s
- Romance
- Occult
"The world we know is gone. But keeping our humanity? That's a choice."
It had taken almost a year for the virus to spread and kill, leaving many people alone, lost and scared. But just after six months of cleaning, clearing and defending a prison, it was now considered a home to many. A group of 15 or so people lived there, each with their own cell and a sufficient way of life. Some had been there from the beginning, others had only joined the group in the later months. Nevertheless, they bonded over the one purpose; survival. The bonds were getting stronger, the large group of strangers were now considered almost family. And at times like this, family was what most of them needed.
Prison:
Having the responsibility of the lives of 14 others, Rick had his work cut out. A natural leader, but he couldn't do it alone. About half of their people had gone on a run for more supplies, Rick gave Glenn and Daryl the idea to check vehicles, they were going to need more when their local suppliers would run out. If Rick had learnt anything in hindsight, it was to plan ahead.
Rick had asked Shane to help him with gardening. Hershel was once a farmer and gave the greatest wisdom Rick could ask for, but the work needed muscle. And whenever there was muscle needed, Rick counted on Shane. He had also asked Jason, somebody who he didn't know as well as Shane, but Jason showed skill and strength, something you needed to be a farmer. Some may argue that farming wasn't the way to go, but what else could they do? If they wanted to get as close to civilization as they could, cross-country runs for food could prove difficult. Rick wiped his brow, sweating from the sun of the afternoon. He shoveled quickly, desperate to get this part of the grass somewhere to grow potatoes.
Run:
"Why'd everything have'ta have an elderly date?" Daryl grunted as he pushed away the bottles, knowing there was no use for them. He looked around the gas station, about three miles from the prison. They had one car and Daryl had his bike. Due to the lack of car space, he had to offer out the back of the seat for somebody to cling onto him as he motored down the road. That person happened to be Glenn on the way there, but Daryl said anybody was welcome to switch. Not that he particularly enjoyed another persons crotch pressed against his ass, but it was needed.
He adjusted the crossbow over his shoulder again, searching through the bottom of the shelf, looking beneath it. Not an attractive look, but he thought he spotted something. "Booyah - Smokes." Daryl stuck out his tongue, concentrating as he pulled out the half empty packet of cigarettes. "Shy- ain't this your gift?" Daryl said loudly, turning to see if he could spot the young smoker. He didn't know him particularly well yet, but their secretive pasts and shared love for filling their lungs with smoke gave them something to bond over. Daryl put the box in his back pocket as he began looking for something else useful. "Also - Who's hitchin' my ride on the way back?" He asked loudly again, trying to project his voice to everybody.
Even with the immense stress, Riv would never touch a cigarette. Her whole life was dedicated to keeping her body in the peak of it's being, there was no way she'd let her lungs get cancered by the drug. "Keep it down." She frowned at Daryl before turning back around to the shelf she was rummaging through. She still had on her old marines jacket, not wanting to take it off. It was a memory for her to keep. She concentrated, reaching up for some cans at the back of the highest shelf. "Hey - Someone tall, lil' help?" She sighed, going back to standing at her normal height.
Rivka remembered meeting these people. She had been with them for almost four months now, if she was counting correctly. Before these, Riv was still with four marines in their base. All was good, she had food, weapons, friends, until Thomas got sick. So sick that he died in the night, coming back to kill the other two men. Riv almost felt like she would of died if she wasn't on lookout that night. She barely escaped with her life. She managed to grab the weapons next to her and ran off, not even trying to put the men out of their walker state. She tried not to be bothered by it. Hell, she had lost everybody she loved prior to the virus, she had been through it before. When she escaped, she was lucky enough to bump into two women, Carol and Michonne. Ever since then, Riv silently thanked God for Carol and Michonne.
"Hello?" She called out in a sarcastic tone, pointing up to the tins she couldn't reach to anybody who would look at her.
Prison Group:
Rick
Carl
Hershel
Carol
Brea
Quinnel
Jason
Shane
Run Group:
Rivka
Daryl
Shiloh
Glenn
Raider
Clarissa
Michonne
Rick
Carl
Hershel
Carol
Brea
Quinnel
Jason
Shane
Run Group:
Rivka
Daryl
Shiloh
Glenn
Raider
Clarissa
Michonne
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