Keep Moving

A slender brunette brow arched, dark eyes sliding over the blonde before a grin pressed at Cristine’s lips and she wiggled her feet a little more deliberately in order to be a shit. Easing back into her seat to relax more as she didn’t even bother moving her feet off of Juliet. The brunette held the others gaze for a good while before tilting her head a bit, as if daring Juliet to do something about their current situation.

                                           “Yeah, you do– gotta problem with it blondie?”

Cristine finally spoke, not even bothering to hide the small chuckle that escaped past her lips. Another moment passed and Cris moved her right foot, using it to prod at Juliet’s side lightly before she nodded in the others direction and huffed a breath.

                                             “Do something ‘bout it. I dare ya.”

“Oh please, it’s cute you tried to convince me of such an untrue statement.”

“I’m not sure who the fuck you’re talking about but I can promise you that I’m sure you’re still completely wrong, man— what is it like always being so incorrect?”

“Oh you poor soul, did I stab you with a fucking needle once? Right well, obviously I didn’t do it good enough since you’re still a jackass and completely wrong.”

[ ❄ ] Basics;

Name: Cristine Elizabeth Roderick Alias ( nicknames ): Cris, Crissy (by her older brother) Scout (by her father) Gender: Female Age: Twenty-Nine she just had a birthday so Date of birth: November 15th, 1987 Spoken languages: English. Occupation: Nurse Criminal record: None Disorders:  PTSD, panic attacks. Eye color: Brown Hair color: Brunette Height: 5′8 Scars: Cris has a few from when she was a kid, but the most recent one is from when the bullet tore through her and hit her son, also a good gash on her side from being beaten up will provide a scar as well.  Burns: None

[ ❄ ] Favorites;

Color: Red, maroon. Song: Paradise by Coldplay Food: Her mama’s cookin’. Drink: Diet Coke Candy: Snickers & Mars Bars

[ ❄ ] Experiences;

Had sex: Yes Had sex in public: No Gotten pregnant: Yes Kissed a boy: Yes Kissed a girl: Yes Gotten tattoos: Yes, one of her sons initials and birth date behind her ear. Gotten piercings: Yes, ears & belly button. Smoked / drank / done drugs: Yes / Yes / Yes Had a broken heart: Yes Been in love: Not really.  Needed surgery: No Stayed up for more than 24 hours: Yes

[ ❄ ] Misc;

A virgin: No A cuddler: When she wants to be, yes. A kisser: Hell yeah. Scared easily: Sometimes. Jealous easily: Depends on the situation Trustworthy: Yes Single: Yes In a relationship: No

He could feel his weight being dragged onto a familiar cushiony surface. Whether it was a mattress, a couch, or something else, however, there was no telling it, because like everything else he had gone through that night, whatever event that was happening in his surrounding at the moment came across as nothing but a jumbling buzz and fuzz to the poor kid’s throbbing head. His body was examined against his will and yet, he couldn’t complain. Not only did he have no energy to voice his protest, the littlest piece of sanity left in him actually also understood that what the owner of those investigating fingers did was only a part of their safety procedure

Time was another matter he couldn’t keep track of in his condition. The only thing he saw behind closed lids was a dream of his past – a dream of his childhood when his mother had nursed the black eye he’d got from the same bully that used to scare him with his dog. That was certainly not the last time she’d had to take care of his wounds – after all, her small-framed son had always been an easy target to the bigger boys, a personal boxing bag they’d beaten up to release their anger. The incident had become less and less frequent as he’d grown up, but the sweet memory of warm hands nurturing his pain gently had forever settled in his heart.

Maybe that was why a trail of tears wetted his cheek in his slumber. Maybe that was why it took him long enough to regain consciousness, maybe he just didn’t want go back to the lonely nightmare they were living in.

Maybe deep down inside, he was missing his mother more than he’d like to admit.

Taeil was pretty sure a few hours had passed when he was finally awakened by the deafening silence. Most of the survivors were already taking their well-deserved rest while he was out. He wouldn’t bother trying to identify their tired faces yet; finding the woman who first came to his rescue was the only concern on his mind. Had she not been there, perhaps his name would’ve been the only thing remained of him by now.

And that was when chocolate hues met each other.

Smiling politely, Taeil nodded at the lady. He tried to shift to a more comfortable position but his burning muscles forced him to abort the attempt. “Thank you, uh…,” his eyebrows raised as if they were requesting her name. “Can’t sleep yet?”

Sleep wasn’t’ going to come to her this night, even though her whole body ached and her eyes were heavy with the restlessness of an unsettled soul. She didn’t really intend on sitting over the young man she had dragged to the sofa, but that was how it ended up being as the other survivors either shrunk off to some corner of the farmhouse or somehow found sleep. It was mostly Cristine’s aching body that kept her awake as she leaned back in a cushioned chair and watched the young boy sleep, probably a creepy thing to do but in her defense she truly didn’t mean to be such a creep. It wasn’t until he started stirring did Cris actually snap out of her daze, shifting to plant her feet on the ground from the curled up position they had been in previously. Her gaze flicked over him as he shifted and landed on his face where their eyes met and she offered the smallest of smiles in a comforting manner before a small chuckle made her muscles scream again at her in pain.

“Eh, my mind is too wired to sleep--” She replied with a nod, instinctively letting the back of her hand swing forward to press to the back of his forehead before she realized how invasive that might have been. With a roll of her shoulders Cris pulled back her hand and gave an apologetic grimace of sorts. “Sorry, old habits-- You feeling any better? How’s your head?” The nurse questioned, eyeing him slowly as to better assess if he was favoring any parts of his body in a painful reaction. They didn’t have much when it came to medical supplies but she could make due with what they did have, but the last thing she could really deal with was an infection of a wound. Finally after slowly inspecting him Cris brought her gaze back up again to meet his gaze. “Sorry, I’m Cris-- I’m a nurse, I make it my job to visual assault and invade people’s space to be sure they’re okay.” The woman joked, lips twitching lightly into a more meaningful smile. 

Ghosts. She bit her tongue before answering it but yes, she believed in them, haunting. “ If I were you, I wouldn’t be so hopeful. Last time I slept in the cold night I woke up alone and surrounded by them. So recuperate as much as you feel like but I ain’t doing that shit. ”. 

“Hope is what makes us human, shit, even when it’s completely impossible for something to be true, hope is needed. It’s how we go on, how we rebuild ourselves. What the hell do you think we’ve done each time something horrible has happened to us as a race? Didn’t you take a history class?” Cristine remarked, not at all pleased with having her ‘hope’ stepped on by this young woman, it was probably because she was so distant-- disconnected from the world. That was her business. “Do you see these people? They need time to rest, to catch their fucking breath before they move on from here. Whoever left you in the cold of the night was a prick, we--- I’m not like that. But do whatever you want, sweetie.”

“ So we survived, what now? You’re all still believing in finding someone else? ”

“Well what do you believe in?” Perhaps her tone was a bit too passive aggressive, gaze too scolding but Cristine had to believe in something. Had to have some kind of purpose, otherwise she’d lose her mind and everything she’d fought for would have been for nothing. “We should recuperate-- I think we can spare enough time for that before we have to get back out in that---” Her hand waved, gesturing towards the outside of the building, their pretend hideout of shelter.

The outbreak was in a way compelling to Nigel, he can kill whenever he wanted to without anyone losing their chin in surprise or fear. It didn’t really add up to a person’s last pleads when they die, but it’ll do. The group of people Nigel eventually stranded up with unfortunately didn’t include the faces he was looking forward to; no Matthew nor that brother of his. But it had been a while since his last human contact so for some reasons the group at least in a sense kept that need of him satiated,for now. 

It was rather hot and stuffy inside the farmhouse, which was why Nigel found himself ending up settling for some fresh air outside on the porch. Lighting up a cigarette, he inhaled slightly as he cast his gaze at the smoke still billowing from afar, where the city had been. A shame he didn’t get to be there for long before it was somehow wiped off by the bombs. Nigel turned his head aside just a bit when he heard the faint sounds of footsteps coming, letting the smoke dribble out from his lips as he exhaled slowly. 

She didn’t know what she was doing, or going to do rather, at least in the city Cristine had some kind of purpose, which she supposed she had one here as well but it was not as easy to distract herself with the bleeding wounds of others when she only wanted to know of the fate of a selected few. Perhaps it was selfish of her but she had to be strong, despite her wounds and aching body she moved to walk the porch. Instantly the smell of nicotine clung to her lungs before she found the source of the nasty habit that reared its head at the sudden appearance of a cigarette. Jesus Christ. It had been such a long time since she’d had a cigarette and the brunette couldn’t help but look at the object with want lacing her brown hues. 

But the man smoking was not someone she knew, at some point he had joined their group which made Cristine wonder just how many people were out in this fucking place that could just join them like this man. Soon her gaze turned to a more skeptical one, shaded with mild distrust to the strange man--- still, her body ached for that which she could not have. “You wouldn’t happen to have another one of those would you?” She asked, one arm crossed over her bruised and aching torso, she was sure that she’d punctured something or most likely reopened some wound she had from the beating she’d gotten shortly after the taking of Xavier’s camp. Her free hand went to her hair and pushed it out of her face before she cleared her throat and shrugged. “If you don’t it’s fine-- I’ll just chew on a piece of bark later.”

It was only yesterday the people of Fall City had been so buzzed up about welcoming Easter. It was only yesterday he’d lent Lori a hand to decorate the community center, it was only yesterday he’d diluted yet another can of soup in a pot full of boiling water to feed the citizens. That night, all hell was breaking loose, devouring whatever glimmer of hope they’d had for happiness – for normality. That night, children were once again orphaned, brothers were ripped away from sisters, while lovers were torn apart. Considering Taeil’s lack of attachment to anyone in town in comparison to others, one might think the heartbreak didn’t hit as hard on him. Truth was, he just didn’t let it show, knowing full well that neither frowning nor complaining would do anybody any favor at the moment.

And so he ran off. He ran off from the crumbling haven that he’d once called home with every last bit of his strength. There was no time to wipe away the clicker’s blood that painted most of his upper body when there was no need to do so anyway, seeing as the fluid somehow helped him stay under the radar of his predators during his escape. Patience was a total virtue, even for his standard, when all you wanted was to find a new shelter to keep your broken bones warm; but he was required to walk slowly, carefully, in order not to break the silence and draw unwanted attention. Although he had never been on the other side of the wall ever since his arrival at the sanctuary, his passion in reading had provided all the information he needed to know about surviving among the monsters, including the benefit of camouflaging odor and the role of sound as their system to detect preys nearby. Therefore, the constant commotion from the gunshots was also crucial for his survival as it kept the infected at bay. Despite his advantages, however, Taeil didn’t hesitate to stick his knife into the brain of lesser enemies when he needed to – something he deemed uncomfortable yet inevitable.

By the time he made his way to the farm house, the exhaustion from his long travel had already taken its toll on him. As the boy dragged his legs to the front porch, he noticed the entrance wasn’t locked. While it was relieving to spot a few recognizable faces inside the building, unsecured opening might not be a good sign with the enormous size of the horde that was cornering them. Thank God this woman was approaching to ask if he was fine, if there was any wound on him for her to aid – none of which was his current topmost priority. Slow but sure, Taeil could feel consciousness slipping away through his fingers – he had to warn them before he passed out.

“Ba– barricade… Barricade the door…,” was his last words as he hit the floor face first, bony fingers circled powerlessly around the nurse’s. He wasn’t completely knocked out; he could still hear people talking in white noise and moving in blurry, black-and-white slow-motioned images – he just didn’t have the energy to process what happened around him anymore, let alone to form any legible response.

It was an instant reaction, one she’d practiced many times with various different patients. Like the one young man that had walked into her E.R. back in Houston with a stab wound and collapsed to the floor in a pool of his own blood. This was one of those times, the poor boy collapsed with a warning in his mouth and Cristine stooped forward to ease the young man to the floor before she moved to heed his warning. Cool hands slammed into the wooden barrier before her eyes found a chair to which she wedged underneath the doorknob and she backed off. Eyes now turning to the young man who had fallen to the floor, now she sprang into action as others took over with barricading the door and watching for the monsters outside. Sliding across the floor on her knees Cris put two fingers to the young mans Jugular, feeling for a pulse and cursing softly as she glanced at her watch and found that it was broken. Closing her eyes she counted in her head and nodded, gently shifting the young man with great protest of her bruised and battered muscles Cris inspected him as best she could without actually moving him too much in case he was injured somewhere other than the surface. It didn’t look like he had gotten bitten and for that Cristine was thankful, she’d yet to put someone down for such a thing. 

It seemed the young man had just passed out due to exhaustion, any other wounds or injuries that might have been the cause to his passing out Cristine couldn’t find without moving him fully and if there were injuries that she didn’t know about the woman didn’t want to move him and put more stress on his body like that. So she shifted him out of the way, moving him to a corner where the couch was and somehow managed to pull him up on it without moving or jarring him as best she could. Now was time to play the waiting game as she covered him up with one of the throws that she had found in the farmhouse, she would let the kid sleep but only for as long as she thought was necessary. Hopefully it wouldn’t be too long so she could tend to him, make sure he was actually alright rather than passing out. She’d have to wait for him to wake up in order to give him a proper inspection.