Post by tyr on May 24, 2010 2:10:34 GMT
TYR MAEDOC GREYBACK !
DID YOU REMEMBER NOT TO TAKE THE WRONG ROAD?
[/font]DID YOU REMEMBER NOT TO TAKE THE WRONG ROAD?
There's something wrong with me chemically
Something wrong with me inherently
The wrong mix in the wrong genes
I reached the wrong ends by the wrong means[/center]
I'M TIRED OF BEING WHAT
YOU WANT ME TO BE. FEELING SO FAITHLESS, LOST UNDER THE SURFACE.
[/font][/center]YOU WANT ME TO BE. FEELING SO FAITHLESS, LOST UNDER THE SURFACE.
FULL NAME !
I DON'T KNOW WHAT YOU'RE
EXPECTING OF ME, PUT UNDER THE PRESSURE OF WALKING IN YOUR SHOES.
[/font][/center]EXPECTING OF ME, PUT UNDER THE PRESSURE OF WALKING IN YOUR SHOES.
DISTINGUISHING FEATURES !
CAN'T YOU SEE THAT YOU'RE
SMOTHERING ME? HOLDING TOO TIGHTLY, AFRAID TO LOSE CONTROL.
[/font][/center]SMOTHERING ME? HOLDING TOO TIGHTLY, AFRAID TO LOSE CONTROL.
LIKES !
BECAUSE EVERYTHING YOU
THOUGHT I WOULD BE, HAS FALLEN APART RIGHT IN FRONT OF YOU.
[/font][/center]THOUGHT I WOULD BE, HAS FALLEN APART RIGHT IN FRONT OF YOU.
FATHER !
NAME/ALIAS: Eos
AGE: 19
GENDER: Female
CONTACT INFORMATION: Ask me and I might tell you.
RULES PASSWORD: Taboo
ROLEPLAYING EXAMPLE:
Zadok had never seen so much death in his life as he did making his way through Leeds. He wasn’t quite sure that it really hit him; how did that saying go again? A single death is a tragedy, a million deaths is a statistic. Stalin had it right, to be honest. Zadok didn’t feel anything, driving through the derelict city. He was sort of just going through the motions, as far as he could tell. There was no sadness, no pity. Just a sort of a numbness that blocked everything out, made it all easier to bear…he was desensitized, one might say. He supposed psychologists had a term for this sort of phenomenon, but he didn’t really care about that. It didn’t matter anymore. None of it did. All that mattered to him, now, was that he had a refined knowledge of how to repair things, a rudimentary idea of how to take care of himself in a fight, and a desire to survive. And that was enough.
What he didn’t have, however, was a surplus of supplies. And that, combined with a sort of restlessness that had been growing constantly over the past several weeks, was what had finally driven him to venture into the city; to ground zero, one might say. It might have been reckless. He didn’t particularly care. Call it impulsive, but Zadok still went, even if he wasn’t entirely sure if the virus had gone dormant or not. Maybe it was cabin fever that had driven him off the farm. He didn’t know, and that wasn’t of any importance. What mattered was that he was there now, and there were things he needed. Most specifically, medicine. But that’s not where he headed first, after filling up on gas; no, first stop was the weapons shop to loot a bit. He had no idea what he would encounter in the city, but he knew that if there were any other survivors, they might be hostile. Best to be prepared for anything and everything. Murphy’s Law and all that. But he wanted to get things done quickly so he could find a place to sleep that night, which was coming on pretty damn fast. So, the minute he’d grabbed a sawn-off shotgun, loaded it, and stuffed some extra ammo into his jacket pockets, he got back into his car. Drove to the nearest pharmacy, did the same thing for the insulin. Then he hauled ass out of there, and headed north. It had been the safest district when the city had been thriving, and instinct pushed him that way now.
There were plenty of abandoned cars and the like left to rust in the streets, so when Zadok first saw the motorcycle parked outside of the Hoole Apartments, he didn’t think anything of it. But then he noticed that someone had slashed open the plastic covering the door. Now, that was odd. He hadn’t noticed anything like that anywhere else in the city. Then again, he hadn’t really looked. But, nevertheless, he’d decided to stop a little ways behind the motorcycle and investigate. He shouldered open the door, shut it behind him, and hit the button on the controls to lock the doors; he wasn’t about to risk his car getting stolen. He’d really rather not be stranded, thanks very much. Dropping his keys neatly into the pocket of his jeans, he approached the motorcycle, settled into a crouch, then held a hand a few inches away from the engine. He couldn’t help but grin a bit when he felt heat radiating off of the bike. Someone had recently shut the bike off, and he was more than willing to bet that whoever it was had gone into the apartments.
Zadok considered his options for a moment, finally deciding that it wouldn’t hurt to check the building out. But nevertheless, as he made his way into the building, he was cautious about it. He made sure that his knife was in-hand, and that his new-found gun would be easy access. No need to be an idiot about anything, after all. But when he heard the unmistakable sounds of someone vomiting in the first apartment he came across, he felt a twinge of sympathy. Oh, he didn’t show anything, and he sure as hell didn’t sheath his knife again. No, that would just be foolish, and his mamma sure as hell didn’t raise him to be a fool. But he did give whoever it was some privacy, instead choosing to linger in the hall until they decided to make an entrance.
Propping his hip against the wall, Zadok turned his attention on the blade of the knife. It was something that his uncle had given him on his twenty-first birthday; one of the few things that he had left of his family. He felt his chest tighten a bit, thinking about it. But before he could sink too much into despair, whoever had been in the apartment stepped out into the hall once again. Zadok cleared his throat, grinned lazily, and spoke up from his place just inside the shadows, his accent slurring his words into not much better than a drawl, the ths turning into ds. “Well, well. It would seem dat Le Bon Dieu saw fit to give me some company dis evening.” Straightening a bit, he cocked his head and studied whoever it was closely. Apart from the fact that they were, in fact, human, he couldn’t really make out a damn thing. Nevertheless, he offered an introduction, of sorts. It might have been a bit rude, but it was safer than just handing out information left and right without a guarantee of anything in return. “Romain Fontenot, but you can call me Zadok. Now, I’m gon’ ask you your name, and you’d best answer me tout suite. I’m not a very patient man.”
THIS APPLICATION WAS MADE BY INDIGO SKIES OF CAUTION.
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