Living In Wastelands ♥ An Apocalyptic Roleplay

Feeling the bus jerk and pull under her, Shard opened her eyes to find that it was coming to a stop. Looking over, she saw that they seemed to be stopping for someone on the side of the road., On a whim, the woman looked through the emergency roof hatch toward the front of the bus and saw him. It was the punk fool who set blaze to her home. Eyes narrowing in anger, Shard drew her bow and knocked an arrow, aiming as carefully as possible, before setting a feathered shaft in the seat next to the man's head.


As soon as they shaft connected Shard was already dropping down into the aisle between seats with a murderous look.


"You set my home on fire."


The responses were immediate, and the hostility and fear that soon clouded the air was nearly palpable. Shard realised that tactically, this wasn't actually a good plan, but she'd been under the impression, and hope, that the fool pyromaniac had been left back in the fire. What angered her more was that she was unsure whether or not he had gotten on before her, or had been one of the survivors she'd covered as they ran for the bus.


Keeping her breath steady, and focusing her eyes only on the man in the front seat, Shard was certain that should this all go south, she would not be going out alone.


"You and I have a problem."
 
The rumbling grew louder until Jazz could no longer ignore it. When at last he turned his head, an enormous white bus idled behind him, its windows spangled with the faces of ... humans. Other humans. By reflex, the hybrid's ears pinned down against his head, and the corners of his lips peeled back in a silent snarl. His posture instantly changed from slouching to alert and rigid, like a collapsing doll whose strings had just been pulled taut; if necessary, he was ready to fight. But behind the glinting canines and furrowed eyebrows, a keen observer would have been able to see the droop in the teen's sandy head, and the way his arms sagged beneath the weight of his studded baseball bat. If the situation boiled down to physical conflict, Jazz would not fare well.


Before the hybrid's swollen eyes, the mouth of the bus opened to reveal a tiny pink fairy-looking girl. Immediately he stood straighter, curious despite the fear trembling in his hands. Still caught in throes of delirium, Jazz could not stop staring at the girl's candy-pink hair, the likes of which he had never seen before. "What in the world is on her head," he wondered aloud, all traces of aggression gone from his posture. The young woman's singsong words barely reached Jazz's ears, which had by this point swiveled around into a more alert position. His mouth had straightened out into a hard line, as had his brows; his face expressed a mixture of incredulousness and wonder, with a good measure of suspicion.


Her little hand extended toward him, and the hybrid glanced from it to her face, wary. "I'm Evermore Holloway," she said, and Jazz though he could almost hear the pink color in her sweet words. She offered him a place on the bloated white vehicle, among the other humans ... humans. Jazz's mind flipped back into a state of fear and mistrust. Other. Humans. He would have bolted at that very second had not he noticed one key detail shining out of the scene before him:


She had ears like him.


Even through his delirium, the sight of those candy-pink ears changed everything for Jazz. Something switched inside of him, convincing him that this girl ... even this ridiculous white bus ... was safe; he honestly believed that she could not lie to him, not with those ears. Though his leaf-green eyes still glinted with suspicion, the teen gingerly leaned forward and slipped his dry, cracked hand into hers, if only for a moment- then he snatched it back, instantly on-guard again. "He wonders why the fairy lives in a wasteland," Jazz said after a moment, and though he would not look the girl in the eyes for long, he stole a brief glance in her direction. "He wonders if people come in different colors there."
 
The sound of an arrow, whizzing into the seat by his side, hardly surprised Magus as he reached to empty his pipe out of the window without regard for the possible attack upon his life. Even as the source of the arrow approached his existence with her fury, he chose to only barely acknowledge her presence through a quick gaze out of the corner of his eye rather than addressing the issue she brought at hand.


It was after she continued to press the subject; however, that he let out a deep sigh while attending to his pipe for another smoke in an attempt to counteract the unnecessary stress resulting from the day's events.


"Correction, you have a problem. I was quite relaxed in my peace."


Unconcerned by the bow pointed at his head, Magus turned to gaze upon the girl with an appearance as bored as his tone had been.


"Shoot me. Perhaps my head would satisfy the arrow's burning desire to pierce the very human flesh it missed its chance upon in the battle."


Yawning in response to the fatigue he was experiencing, Magus closed his eyes while leaning back into the seat with the intention of taking a short nap that their sudden delay had given time for. Picking up a possible new citizen was hardly a concern for Magus, and neither was the threats of the girl standing before him.


Over the years, his heart had been hardened by the accusations of others, as recognition of his ideals and actions benefiting the well being of the camp, had never once been appreciated, only blamed.


"If the memories of that shit hole are worth more than the value of your pitifully selfish life, then shoot me dead as I speak."
 

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.::Evermore Holloway::.




Evermore couldn't help but laugh as the boy questioned what was on her head. "They're ears, like yours," she answered kindly. She noticed his aggressive posture, hence why she was wise to keep her distance, but she also noticed that he seemed to soften up a bit once he realized she was like him: a hybrid. He didn't seem to like the situation all that much, which made Eve question whether he'd take her hand or not. Perhaps he's been on his own for too long? She wondered with a slightly tilted head. She didn't want to give up on recruiting him, though. Another hybrid was a neat catch, and it was always nice to feel less alone. Clearly there were more humans than hybrids in the Wastelands, being that hybrids are quite rare, so she really felt blessed to have stumbled upon this boy. As soon as his dry and rough hand met her smoother and smaller one, she felt relieved, and showed him a genuine, euphoric smile.





"He wonders why the fairy lives in a wasteland," the boy said, which confused Evermore at first. Does he not know what we are? She questioned internally, but she decided to go along with it - which included not questioning why he was speaking in the third person. "The Wastelands aren't actually wastes - it's simply a name," she began in a soothing tone, "They're a home for all those who have survived this long. It's safe there." She stated, and then listened as he asked about the different colors. She figured that he was talking about they hybrids and humans. "Oh! Yes, various colors," she began in an enthusiastic and welcoming tone, "There are other hybrids there, like you and me," she said, nodding in approval to her own statement. "We'd love to have you come with us!" She stated as she motioned to the bus behind her. As she did, however, she noticed the girl from before starting something up with Magus.





"H-Hey! What are you two doing?!" Evermore began as she shot the boy an apologetic look before making her way back to the bus. John was already confronting Shard about what she was doing. "Look, whatever home that was, it was also the home of something much more sinister," he stated with a level head and calm tone. He didn't want to rile her up, but he was stating the obvious. "Yeah, did you even go inside and see that trap door in the pharmacy?" Eve asked as soon as she entered the scene. She didn't want her to hurt Magus in any shape or form, for he was one of the few people who actually bothered to comfort her earlier. She still had the rose candy in her pocket, and she didn't plan on ever eating it. It was a memento of one of the rare moments that someone like Magus showed kindness and empathy. "If you're coming to the Wastelands with us, you may want to show a little less hostility."


Evermore agreed. Just who did John invite onto this bus? Sure, she helped out and all, but she didn't have to start fighting with someone just over some "home" of hers that was apparently the source of those terrible monsters. Eve was still confused as to what lied in that pharmacy, and she knew that whatever was in there.. Not all of it could have burned. The door was in the floor, meaning that there was something underneath the store. She wondered if those weird drugs she saw were still in there - or, perhaps they exploded due to the inferno? She didn't know, but she was sure she was going to find out in due time. She wanted to get down to the bottom of those new zombies, and whatever made them exist in the first place.






I hate science.



 

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"Come on lass, we're going home."





Ceil remembered nodding slightly when the man pulled her up to her feet. The tiger mewed pitifully in the process and only stopped when Ceil boarded the bus. She took a seat closer to the back so she could sit by herself with her new tiny companion. After wiping her nose on her sleeve, she began humming a tune of the days before the incident, trying to soothe the cub. After a while the bus came to a stop and Foxtrot looked into the aisle to see what the hold up was, crossing her fingers in hope that it wasn't that giant ax-wielding zombie from Bob's.



Instead, her view was blocked by some wild looking girl confronting what looked like the top of Magus' head. In a few moments, John rose to take care of the problem and Evermore came into view. It seemed as though she was talking to someone. Foxtrot shot Evermore a look filled with thanks about earlier, hoping the girl would catch her expression. The girl sat back up and put the tiger cub in the window seat beside her. Its little body was no longer trembling, but it was still looking around with its big blue eyes. It nosed around in her pack for a few moments before Ceil chuckled and began feeding it more sardines. She hoped John would let her keep it, and if he didn't she was going to fight to keep the orphaned cub. Then a pang of guilt hit her as she realized it was partly her fault for orphaning the poor creature. Foxtrot sighed and waited for the bus to begin back on its path home.
 

A d r i a n


Meanwhile, away from all of this energy and adrenaline, we return back to the entrance to the Wastelands, where something can be seen walking towards the entrance without a single break in step. Even with his stature, the carcasses he was carrying both looked very heavy. Luckily, being a hybrid had perks, and this was one of them - some damn good strength. Two carcasses of what looked like deer {one buck and one doe} hung limply on his shoulders. To the immense luck of the hardened young man carrying them, and with some
very painstaking patience, he had managed to capture these two trophies to bring home. Meat, in those times, wasn't plentiful, more of a delicacy than what it had been before. Animals - or non-infected animals, at least - were extremely rare, so he had gotten a good catch. Some time in his wolf form came with it as well. He found that hunting in that form of his was far easier than it was in his human form. But, then again, combating the human infected was far easier in his own human form. Knowing Adrian, he wouldn't keep the two catches to himself. Everybody deserved something nice every once in a while in the Wastelands.


His eyes flashed up to the people taking watch over the gate's entrance. Immediately, they seemed to recognize him, since he had left these gates not a couple of hours ago. They allowed him entrance, calling to him and congratulating him on his apparent success, to which he smirked and called back
"Thanks" to them. He really was proud of himself in that time, avoiding the infected while also managing these fantastic kills. The others, who he had heard were on a raid, would hopefully be excited when they see his prizes.


Many were often surprised that he always went on foot on his hunting trips. He just preferred it that way. If he could just as easily run as drive a car, then he might as well save gas, right? Lots of things were more valuable than they were a long time ago; he'd rather get a good grip on what they have and not waste it. Plus, getting out and stretching his legs was always a treat for him, as well as releasing some ...
condensed anger ... in a more effective manner.


He began making his way to the main food storage/cooking area, where he could get the two kills to the lady he knew was best at that business - Katherine Rowe, the lead cook. He loved that woman. She and him clashed sometimes with their hot-headed personalities, but they could also have lots of fun, too. She shared a lot of views with him, and could be really fun to exchange banter or just chat with. His stride across the grounds of the sanctuary they all shared slowly calmed the very sadistic flares he had been feeling before, when it was just him, his lovely sword, and some stray infected. He still had plenty of blood on him to show he hadn't been fooling around out there. He usually came home insanely dirty or bloody, so it wasn't very new to many. He had a pretty revered reputation around the Wastelands as 'scary', so very few people asked why he always came home covered in more gore and dirt than everyone else.



He began to wonder if the survivors that left for their raid would come back with anything. New York City was a very large place, with plenty of options to go scrounging for materials, but it was often that people would come back with very little to offer as their findings. Maybe they'd get lucky like he did with his hunting.
Hopefully. The more supplies available, the better. They were slowly building up their stocks, very slowly, so anything helped.


With a deep inhale - the usual smell of dead air and metallic blood coming to his senses - and a slow exhale, he continued his way there, becoming more and more serene as he went, calming back to his usual self from the solo hunt and intense venting session involving himself and some unfortunate infected.


 
Shard growled angrily as John and Eve came to protect their friend, though she wasn't overly surprised.


"Home... it was the perfect home, and let me tell you, I trapped plenty of the zekes in that building before you ever came along! Led them in, then I was out through the skylight, so I think the real question is why the hell did they decide to show up when you did!"


'Accidentally' smacking the back of Magus' head with her bow as she turned around, Shard pulled herself back up through the emergency hatch. A few seconds later she swung herself back down and locked her eyes with John's.


"I think that instead of worrying about me, you should try figuring out who let the freak zekes out when you all showed up. My trapped zekes were great ambush traps for raiders, and I was in and out of that building a couple different times..." Shard explained, leaving the implication clear for all to hear.


"Besides," Shard growled as she pulled herself back up through the hatch, "I don't have a target on my back, and your group seems to be adding more, intentionally or through fool moves.."


Climbing back up to the roof Shard refastened herself to the hatch.


A lot of her thoughts were focused on leaving. Of course, it was more than likely a coincidence, as they were larger than any raider group. Hman numbers always drew zeke numbers. Still, why had she never encountered a single freak zeke? Well, it wasn't like she had anywhere else to go, and push comes to shove, she could always leave later.


In the meantime, they offered her a home in replacement for the one she lost. She figured that was nice.
 
The girl's response seemed to satisfy Jazz, though he did not fully understand the meaning of her words. So, when she climbed onto the bus with an apologetic glance backward, Jazz followed- albeit hesitantly. He paused at the foot of the ascending steps with an uncertain look on his bruised face: something didn't seem quite right. Regardless, the hybrid put one foot on the bus, hoisted his meager weight up, and found balance; a few more steps and he was standing in the narrow aisle, almost hiding behind Evermore's tiny figure. Her attention was diverted to a dispute in one of the seats, but Jazz's focus found other places to rest.


His good eye flickered between the members of the ragtag group, quickly picking out the females from the assembled faces. Although the hybrid was hesitant to stare at any girl for too long, he was far more reluctant to look at any of the males, and totally incapable of even glancing at the older man. Living with the Brotherhood, an all-male survivor group on the north side of the city, had deeply traumatized Jasper. Due to a nasty experience with the "Brothers," he had been conditioned to fear, hate, and mistrust the members of his own gender; in every male face he saw aggression and cruelty. In every male face he saw the death of his true brother, Theodore.


The stress of the situation was becoming unbearable. After Evermore was out of the way, Jasper quickly moved past her and toward the seat furthest from the other passengers, dragging his baseball bat behind him as he struggled down the aisle. Eventually the hybrid came to rest in the sun-warmed seat, pressed awkwardly against its soft surface as if bracing for impact. Breath came harshly in and out of him, and his good eye glanced back and forth in a panic, like a wild cat's. Jazz felt trapped, and did not have the clarity of mind to consciously calm himself down. Instead, he began to mutter strings of nonsense to himself ... and it helped. The hushed sounds of his own voice made the teen feel a little more at ease with his strange surroundings.
 
Masaru's fatigue is keeping him asleep on the ride still, but since then his dreams have calmed down and he's more or less stuck in his own thoughts of the current situation and surroundings, constantly replaying a mental map of the area and the camp, going through faces and personalities he's watched, as he doesn't know anyone personally, more or less know anyone even as a passerby; yet this obviously hasn't stopped him from nearly sacrificing himself multiple times and offering to do so even more already. He knows eventually to keep himself sane he'll have to get close to someone, at least one person, otherwise he'll be doomed and lost in the wastes that is now over the entire planet like a thick blanket, a disease and horror filled blanket. Yet it's hard for him too, he's not special, atleast in the sense of personality and character, he's just a marine, and one that's been saved by another mere civilian, which makes him wonder if he was even cut out to be on in the first place. If he wasn't wearing a helmet, under his shaggy white hair you'd probably see his eyes tense up in his thought-filled dreams.


He started to slowly open his eyes from his slumber on the bus, a lot of commotion is happening on the bus right now and could definitely be possible that that helped his awakening, but probably for the better before he got into any more depressing topics in his own mind, and to be demotivated by certain parts of his subconscious. After fully gaining back his alertness, eyes opening fully, he jerked his head up. Under his breath he gives himself a pep-talk;
"Alright, I've grown a bit weak, I need to start bettering myself and training more, I've been slacking this whole time and i need to move past all the shit I've been through because it's holding me back. Especially you, ya'prick" As he finishes that statement to himself, he's obviously meaning towards his leg, which has been the obvious factor of all his close-calls since he was rescued. He doesn't really know why, but this new motivation puts him in higher spirits, and decreases his pain a bit...
 

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