|
Post by Crispin Hawthorne on Sept 23, 2013 23:12:11 GMT
DeeAy lit a cigarette, pulled it from his lips and blew a cloud of thick white smoke into the air. He wasn't a big smoker, but in times like these, it seemed almost necessary. Flicking the ash from the cherry, he stared at the makeshift grave of his fallen comrade, his eyes beginning to well up with tears on the brink of over flowing. He wiped his face before they gave way, because once they started, they didn't stop. He needed something to get his mind off things, something to keep him busy. A small growl came from a few feet behind him, he sighed and turned around. A straggler was shuffling towards him, arms straight out. The rage that built up inside was unbearable. DeeAy clenched his fist and stepped up to the straggler. He kicked it square in the chest, making it fall to the ground. He hovered over it for a second, watching it reach for his leg. Kicking it again, his voice starting to crack. "Stay...the fuck down." He took another pull from his cigarette, exhaled and then stomped down on the undead's head. It sounded almost like stepping on a bundle of twigs. DeeAy sighed deeply, and repeatedly stomped on the already crushed head. The tears started coming, more than ever and soon DeeAy fell to his knees in front of the corpse. He died out the butt of the cigarette in the puddle of blood and carnage. Before returning to his feet, he looked over the body and checked the pockets. He found matches and an empty pack of Newports. "Son of a bitch..."
After dragging the body to the designated area, DeeAy returned to the Safe House. "I'm going out on a run. Anyone who wishes to join me, feel free. But be prepared please. Only melee today...can't risk losing another one of you." He winced at the thought and grabbed his new reaper knives. "It's nothing crazy today, we just need some more food. We're stocked on meds. Anything else of use run by me first. I'll be out on the porch." He exited through the door and sat down on the front steps. As he waited, he gripped one of the knives in his had, looking over every detail. They seemed to be fairly new, some faint tarnishes, but nothing he couldn't work with. She didn't even use them...if only she used them... He chucked slightly, and then began to tear up again. Clearing his throat, he shook her image from his head. It was best to move on. It happens. It's normal now. One can't ponder too long on these things, or they might go insane, and DeeAy couldn't afford that right now.
|
|
|
Post by Michael Thomas on Sept 24, 2013 7:14:23 GMT
Michael gets up and looks around the room. He gets the to familiar feeling of emptiness. The lost of her really took its tole on the group. "I'm going to take the run with you DeeAy. Michael walks down to his room to gather his weapons medicine and got his running clothes/shoes on. He pulled his rings on the necklace out from hidden under his shirt. Gave it a kiss and tucked it away. "alright were going to head out were leaving the radio. Remember if were not back by an hour after sundown lock up for the night." Michael walks out to the porch and pats Deeay knowing he took this hardest of all of us. "Let head out bud daylights burning." And extends his hand to help him up.
|
|