-`, PARIAH !

MATEO ÁLVAREZ 

Is it better to out-monster the monster or to be quietly devoured ?

⚔️

“what else were tabletops made for if not to dance on?” her nose crinkles slightly as she grins over at mateo, her focus honing in as she unconsciously leans towards him “besides i would have mostly kept it PG”

she’s hyper aware that she’s almost ridiculously too far gone for the guy and its not just because he’s saved her life one too many times to count - at this stage the playing field is pretty even in that regards - or because his smile makes her want to do dangerously stupid shit like gush about his cheek bones or worse… introduce him to her sister.

“’teo, you know i’m safe here right?” she’d spent her formative years as a fixture in a seedy small town bar not unlike the very one they were currently sitting in “no ones gonna start anything inside the gates and risk getting booted out.”

this wasn’t mateo’s scene though, she knew that, he’d never feel quite at home the same way she did with the smell of stale beer and the aura of shattered dreams and if he wasn’t enjoying himself (and despite his easy grin she knew he wasn’t) then she wasn’t either.

“come on.” checking to make sure the bartender was otherwise occupied she reached over the countertop and pilfered the first non-descript bottle of liquor her hand brushed against, reaching for mateo’s hand as she slid off her stool, fingers lacing together as she pulls him behind her "we’ll swing by home first but there’s an empty field out near the wheat crops. you can teach me how to shoot that weapon of yours while i’m still relatively sober enough not to suck at it.“

✞

knowing that they’re technically safe within these walls doesn’t make it any easier for mateo to let his guard down. but even the oldest habits can be broken eventually, and if these past few months have taught him anything it’s that colette is the exception to everything he’s even known about himself. his fingers intertwine with hers easily, and his world goes quiet finally, narrowing down to the two of them and the warmth of her hand in his. 

‘ you’re so bossy, ’ he says, but the smile on his face finally reaches his eyes and there is nothing but fondness in his voice. despite the accusation, he lets her pull him out of the bar, and even though the summer air in georgia is no less stifling than a bar filled with people, mateo finds that he breathes a little easier.

the walk home—and mateo tries not to think too hard about the fact that he thinks of it as home too—is quiet, and perhaps its that quiet comfort shrouded by the shadows of dusk that makes it easier for him to be honest. ‘ you scared me today, y’know? ’ her supply run group had been delayed that afternoon, and although he had known it was irrational, mateo couldn’t shake off the fear and anxiety that crept up on him with every minute that ticked by. 

it hadn’t helped that she’d been covered in blood on arrival, and he can’t remember the last time he’d ever felt such pure, unadulterated panic. even after she’d told him that the blood wasn’t hers, even now hours after knowing she’s back here with him and safe, he can’t seem to shake off the fear that if he looked away for just a second too long she might disappear.

it’s not an emotion that comes to mind but a person—a pair of hazel eyes following his every movement, warm fingers gliding across his skin, the way his heartbeat crescendoes when she crosses his orbit. if mateo is honest with himself, it’s not that he’s unable to label the emotion that fills his chest when he’s with her, but that he’s scared to. 

people like him aren’t meant for happy endings, and he should have held her at arm’s length right from the start, or pulled away the moment he realised that even the thought of losing her made his throat go dry. and yet here he is, halfway across the damn country all because he wasn’t ready to say goodbye to her yet—not then, and definitely not now.

x

The blonde had stood there, nose crinkled. Hadley had tried the drink before once upon a time, what seemed like a lifetime ago. Still, she could remember the foul taste of it. “I’m not sure I’d trust it”, she said taking a step closer to him but remaining at a safe distance. It was going to take her a while, to be willing to open up to people. After all she’d been on her own for a while, even before the end of the world. “Doesn’t that stuff have to be carefully refrigerated and all that?”

✞

there’s something about the obvious disgust on his expression that amuses him. there’s a part of him—the part he doesn’t like to acknowledge, the one that mourns the carefree childhood he never got to have—that envies her for it, wonders if he might have turned out the same way had his life not been a series of tragedies one after after. 

‘ you’re probably right, ’ he says, closing the lid of the flask and putting it away. ‘ both about not trusting it and also the fact that it probably violates every other food safety regulation. but we’re in the middle of the apocalypse, there are worse things to be drinking out there, i’m sure. ’ he’s not offended by the fact that she keeps her distance from him, doesn’t call her out on it either, but makes it a point to keep his hands by his side and in full view from where she stands. ‘ you new to town? don’t recall seeing you around here before. ’

— 🔧 —

Javier’s only response to Mateo as the requested tool is placed in his hand is a brief nod, resuming what it was he’d been working on while the kid went on to explain his purpose for the visit. Not really anything that required the attention of the mechanic, but he gave pause anyway, eyes searching the shop. Where was the gun cleaning kit, now that he’d mentioned it?

“With this?” He asked when Mateo asked about an extra pair of hands, head shaking. “Nah.” He liked the work he got in the shop, it felt like a familiarity he hadn’t had since before everything went to shit. All things considered, there wasn’t enough of it to go around given the hands they already had. 

“But uh - finding the kit might be another story.” Maintenance HQ wasn’t exactly the most organized of places, but it was likely around here somewhere. Unless a runner or guard had decided to snatch and and keep it for themselves a while. 

✞

perhaps someone else—someone kinder, more sincere, more willing to be of help—would have insisted, but mateo only nods in response to the mechanic’s rejection of his offer, crossing his arms over his chest as he scans the room again, this time for the gun cleaning kit. it’s a useless endeavour, given how much junk filled the space. not that he’d ever say that out loud; one man’s trash is another man’s treasure, after all, and mateo’s not about to risk stepping on javi’s toes just because he can’t find any value in half taken apart toasters and cars missing all of its wheels.

.

Oliver sat in the grass next to Mateo; he’s not really sure who got there first and it didn’t really matter when the other guy was laying on the grass half-covered in dried blood and drinking (kombucha apparently) out of a flask. 

There was a certain absurdity to it all. 

Oliver took the flask from his companion and sniffed. A very sharp vinegar smell hit the back of his nose and he coughed almost immediately then handed the flask back. 

“Yeah, that’s a little too far gone for me,” Oliver replied with one more sharp cough into his own shoulder. “Busy day already?”

✞

oliver’s reaction to the scent alone of the kombucha makes him laugh—it’s more of a quick exhale accompanied by the briefest twitch of his lips than actual full-bodied laughter, but it’s genuine, and that’s more than mateo can say about his interactions with most other people.

‘ smart choice, ’ he replies, tucking the flask back into the waistband at the back of his cargo shorts. the movement of twisting his arm behind his back stretches out the gash on his arm, not enough to make it start bleeding again though, or even to hurt. if anything, the slight sting is a welcome sensation, a reminder that he’s still alive. ‘ it’s never not a busy day around here. ’ 

♒

“let me just get this straight,” astrid finally replies, crashing down next to him in the grass, “it’s the end of the fucking world, and you’re drinking…kombucha.” she’d seen a lot of crazy shit in the past year, but this might just top the list. “are you suddenly worried about your health? because the shirt, or what’s left of it, might say otherwise.” 

not that she was concerned about him - honestly, if he bled to death it was one less person she had to deal with, but he wasn’t all that bad to look at and since colette was the closest thing she had to a ‘friend’ around here, she had to play nice. “i don’t know what’s worse - the idea of you making your own homemade kombucha, or the idea of you going out of your way to find someone who already did so.” 

✞

‘ yep, ’ he responds, drawing the single syllable out and popping the ‘p’ for added dramatic effect. another sip of the godawful concoction is taken, and there’s a small voice in the back of his mind that’s amused by the fact that he’s more willing to give kombucha a second chance than people, but it’s not like he has to worry about a flask of fermented tea stabbing him in the back at the first chance he gets. food poisoning, on the other hand... at that thought, he tips the flask upside down, dumping the rest of its contents onto the grass.

who: open starter @thecatastrophicstarters

where: hard times

when: whenever

after every successful supply run (successful meaning she came back through the gates of fairvale relatively uninjured or simply that she came back at all) colette usually liked to spend a little of her hard earned tokens drowning her sorrows celebrating the win. 

on the road booze had been in short supply, and the few times mateo and her had stumbled upon a little treasure trove she hadn’t wanted to let her guard down too much to indulge all that much well aware that out in the open keeping her wits about her was the number one priority.

now though, safe behind high walls, now she could let go.

drink in hand she slid into the first open stool she came across, grinning at the person next to her. “you gonna sit here moping all night or do you wanna have a little fun instead?”

✞

mateo’s not much of a drinker; he’d grown up in a home that reeked of alcohol more often than not, and for a long time it was difficult to dissociate the sharp scent of liquor from the sting of a cut lip after a particularly hard backhand. not that he’s never had a drink—there were plenty of nights during high school where he’d get drunk at parties just to prove he wasn’t his father’s son, but he’s past that now.

truth be told, if it weren’t for colette, he’d probably never step foot in the tavern, but she had a habit of downing half her body weight in booze after a supply run, and mateo figures he’s the best person to keep an eye on her. not that she needs babysitting, but he can’t say for sure that he wouldn’t cut off someone’s hands just for touching her—even if only to haul her drunk ass to their apartment—so he figures it’s better not to take the risk and find out.

‘ your idea of fun is vastly different from most people. ’ it’s not a ‘no’ though, partly because he has a hard time saying no to her in the first place, partly because she’d just find a way to make him agree even if he does find it in him to deny whatever request she has. ‘ no karaoke, ’ he adds before she says anything else. ‘ and absolutely no dancing on tables. ’

who: open starter @thecatastrophicstarters

where: common grounds

when: early morning, monday the 15th of june 2020

too many people…there were too many people for being so early in the morning and holly was in no way equipped to deal with it. arms wrapped defensively around herself as she stood in line waiting to be served and trying to convince herself in no uncertain terms that being at work was better than hiding away under the covers in her bed, she gnawed at her bottom lip as she glanced around.

“you’d think considering it’s the end of the world and all that queuing up like lemmings would be a thing of the past.”

✞

no one is a stranger to loss at the end of the world, and given enough time, it becomes easy to spot the signs of grief, no matter how quiet it is. he can’t quite relate to the enormity of her grief, and in some fucked up way he’s maybe even a little envious of her. when anthony had died, he’d buried his grief with the man in the backyard of their home so he wouldn’t have to carry it with him.

who / open starter @thecatastrophicstarters when / june 2020 what / stella holds office hours. 

one of them was scheduled to be there during ‘regular office hours’ at all times; usually there were a few of them, making decisions, plans, trying to create what they could of a town. but today it was merely stella left; the rest had gone for the day, and she was on her own. 

technically, anyone could come into the ‘headquarters’ at any time, but stella liked to hold special office hours - for anyone who needed to talk, alone, to someone about…anything. gossip, secrets, unload their burden onto someone else…she’d heard her fair share of just about everything in the months since she’d taken up her post. 

“what brings you in today,” she greeted as she turned to see them, a gentle smile on her face, “or are you just trying to beat the heat outside?” 

✞

there’s something about the older woman that reminds him of anthony—maybe it’s the way she always has a smile for everyone, or the way people in town speak so fondly of her—and even though he’s never actually gone to her for a listening ear like so many others have, he’s found himself at the door of her office more times than he’s comfortable admitting to.

‘ actually, i wanted to talk to you about changing the supply run route ’ there’s a paper bag in his hand with a slice of freshly baked peach cobbler that he places on her desk, and which may or may not be the true reason for his visit, but it’s not like he’ll ever tell. besides, he has been meaning to speak to someone on the council about their route, so it’s more of a convenient excuse than an outright lie.

‘ dunno who’s been doing the planning lately, but they’ve got us running around in circles. ’ he takes the empty seat across from her, nudging the paper bag closer towards her. ‘ maybe you guys think it’s better to err on the side of caution, but we’re going to run out of supplies sooner rather than later if this keeps up, and i’d rather expand the search radius now while we’re all still healthy than later after half of us have been taken out by a mysterious illness or something. ’

Who: open ! @thecatastrophicstarters· When: Early June 2020 Where: Maintenance HQ

There was a clang of metal against metal followed by a frustrated stream of curses coming out from beneath the hood of a car, Javi hunched over it. Since arriving at Fairvale only a couple months prior he’d finally gotten the chance to throw himself back into some more familiar work, something far more easing of the mind than a battle against the zombie hordes beyond these protective walls. Or, as he’d come to know far more intimately than he would have liked, the even worse enemy that could be other survivors in this world.

At the flicker of movement in his peripheral vision Javier’s eyes shift in the other’s direction, trying to ignore the flush of adrenaline in his veins at even the notion of someone sneaking up on him - even though he was rather certain they hadn’t intended to. Fairvale…it was safe. These people were good. He wished he just didn’t have to keep reminding himself of it. 

“I can help you in a minute,” Javi said, passing a hand across his forehead and leaving behind a streak of grease. “Actually - if you could pass me that socket wrench,” he gestured vaguely in the direction of the tools and holding a hand out.

✞

it’s not that he’s trying to sneak up on javier, but growing up in a house with a man whose first language was violence meant that mateo learned early on how to be quiet. even two decades later, he hasn’t quite managed to unlearn the survival methods of his childhood, but he’s lucky for it in some ways; who knew the skillset of a child who grew up afraid would overlap so much with that needed to survive the apocalypse?

🎨

“i’ll take your word for it.” livia looked up from the book she was flicking through, a rare day of low inspiration for her as she set up shop in the middle of town square to hopefully help get the creative juices flowing “the wackiest i’ve ever gotten with drink choices is whether or not i wanna infuse my earl grey with lavender or rose.”

she gave mateo the once over, shaking her head and rolling her eyes as she took in the sight of his bloodied upper arm “i’d tell you that looks like it needs to be checked out properly but i’ve got the feeling you’d probably just wave me off if i tried.” he’d been in fairvale a few months now with that annoyingly chipper little friend of his and while livia hadn’t spent a significant amount of time with either of them, she’d spoken to mateo enough to know he was almost always painfully stubborn. “good run this time anyway?”

✞

‘ wise choice. ’ raising the flask as if making a toast, he starts to bring the opening to his lips only to change trajectory at the last second, and instead of downing the drink, pours the entire contents onto the grass. he doesn’t know shit about plants, so he’s not sure he hasn’t just killed a perfectly good patch of grass, but hey—better the grass than him.

he follows her gaze to the gash on his arm, shrugging lightly as he drags his fingertips over the wound that’s already started to close up. ‘ one of the new guys almost got his entire leg taken off by a bear trap, ’ he explains, as if describing an incident no more severe than stubbing one’s toe. ‘ figured i’d have to wait even if i hauled my ass over to the clinic, so i might as well enjoy the sunshine. ’ as if to drive home his point, he leans back against the grass, making a show of basking in the late morning sun. 

‘ fuck, ’ he mutters under his breath after the first swig. ‘ people actually drink this shit? ’ it’s not that he’s not aware of the other’s gaze on him, but he doesn’t blame them for staring. he’s sure he must be a real sight right now, lounging on the grass with half of his tank top stained with the reddish brown of dried blood. there’s a long gash along his upper arm from where he’d gotten caught in a chain link fence during that morning’s supply run, but his tetanus booster is up to date—death by rusty metal would be such an uncool way to die—and he’s gotten roughed up enough times to know when an injury looks worse than it actually is.