forum Feed // Private Roleplay with Crocs

Started October 26, 2019 by Deleted user

tune

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hgfhhjkhgf she's actually one of the main characters in my nano project, just fantasy instead of modern. im glad you like her!!

that sounds perfectly on brand for her tbh and i love it

I'll type it out, then

Damion's mind was in full panic mode, which would have been acceptable for a person in his situation. He'd been sleeping in the backseat of a broke-down Toyota Corolla when the horde had came into town, snarling and clawing at the windows. He didn't even have time to do his hair, so it fell over his eyes and annoyed the shit out of him. Luckily, the car had came with a sunroof, so he was able to break the glass and just jump over the mass of undead, landing awkwardly on his left ankle. Getting out the the car, however, was only the first part of the equation. They, obviously, gave chase, stumbling and dragging their rotten bodies after the young man with the sole desire to bite into his flesh.

The closest building's door was (thank God) unlocked, so he slipped inside and slammed it shut. It was a glass door, however, so it wouldn't hold against the 30 or 40 walkers now aware of his presence. His only hope was to slip into a room and stay as quiet as he could. However, his luck was so bad today it was hard to even fathom. As soon as he stepped into the room, he received a blow to his head so hard it sent him onto his back and brought black spots into his vision. When he was finally able to see, he was staring down the barrel of a pistol, the metal glint in the back of the chamber showing it was indeed loaded.

When the horde came through the town Safira was in, the last thing she expected was to have to deal with another survivor. And yet here the woman was, standing over a man around her age, fist smarting and pistol aimed directly at his head. She wasn't taking any chances. Too many bad experiences with other survivors had taught her to never trust anyone she didn't already know, and this man fit under the 'don't trust category'.

"Here's how this is gonna go." Her voice was rich, a slightly exotic accent clinging to her words, though it had been muddled by almost a year of being on her own, leaving her with less of the accent she had loved so dearly. "I speak, you respond, and don't even think about getting up, or I will not hesitate to shoot you. Understood? Feel free to nod."

It took him a second to respond, since he had to spit out a small wad of blood. And a piece of his tooth. Well, shit, that sucks. He just hoped it wasn't one of his front teeth.

"Jus' shut the door before all this starts," he mumbled, pointing over at the main entrance to the building. Damion's voice, in contrast, had a strong Southern accent that hadn't dulled a bit, despite her being the first person he'd spoken to in over a year. "I brought about 30 of 'em with me an' I doubt that glass door gon' hold fo' much longer."

Safira swore, grumbling something in rapid paced Spanish as she looked between the man on her floor and the door. "Fine. But you stay right where you fucking are, alright? Fucking idiot." She spun towards the door, keeping the gun on him best she could as she made her way towards it. Her hair was kept back from her face with a pair of chopsticks, indicating that she had been doing something when he showed up.

"I'm not the one leavin' doors unlocked during a horde," he pointed out, not moving from where he laid on the floor.
Damion studied her with his wide hazel eyes as she shut the door, attempting to get a read off of her. The only thing that he could tell is that he had interrupted an activity that couldn't allow her hair to get in the way, since it was pulled up with the chopsticks. The fact didn't help much, but all information is useful at some point.

((I hate how right you are abt that))

“I was grabbing my shit and getting to the roof.” Safira said, locking the door as quickly as she could. “Narrows down entry points, and the stairwell doors are the heaviest shit ever.” That was why she had chosen this building to crash in. She couldn't keep going in the state of hunger she had been in, and she’d gotten lucky with this building. Nonperishables in the basement and an accessible route to the roof?

"That explains the hair….alright." The sound of the glass finally breaking and 30 different pairs of feet stomping into the building made him frown. As long as they were relatively quiet and don't cut each other to bits, they should be good.
"It I ain't allowed off the ground, can you at least take my shit to defend us with?" he asked in a low voice, gesturing to the hatchet and gun at his hip. "They're jus' wastin' space without a proper use."

She made a face of slight confusion at the comment about her hair, the expression quickly fading as the glass broke. Flickering her eyes over to him, she narrowed them to study him, before motioning for him to stand. "Fine, get off your damn ass. But trust me, you try anything, and those fuckers out there are gonna be the least scary thing in this building." She hissed, motioning for him to follow her, steps so light they were near silent.

Damion got to his feet, his footsteps just as silent as he slipped the hatchet from his hip. The sound of moans and grunts were becoming louder and louder by the moment, making him concerned as to where the hell they were going. Obviously not the front door. Going to the roof would make them trapped. He just prayed to God she was heading to the back exit.