VIRGINIA "GINNY" PARK (she/her)
Not knowing when the Dawn will come, I open every Door, – emily dickinson
BLOG. BIOGRAPHY. WANTED CONNECTIONS. ROLEPLAY.

@theartofmadeline
Cosmic Funnies
Peter Solarz
art blog(derogatory)
Show & Tell
Sade Olutola
Acquired Stardust

roma★
Keni
Misplaced Lens Cap

Kiana Khansmith
occasionally subtle
ojovivo
cherry valley forever
let's talk about Bridgerton tea, my ask is open

Andulka
Jules of Nature

oozey mess
hello vonnie
Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her
seen from United States
seen from Brazil
seen from Malaysia
seen from Brazil
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States

seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States

seen from United States

seen from United States
seen from United States

seen from United States
seen from China
seen from Canada

seen from United States

seen from United States
@ginnypark
VIRGINIA "GINNY" PARK (she/her)
Not knowing when the Dawn will come, I open every Door, – emily dickinson
BLOG. BIOGRAPHY. WANTED CONNECTIONS. ROLEPLAY.

Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
"Of course I'm-" Ermano silenced, letting Ginny say her piece. From the beginning he knew the conversation wasn't going to be easy. But what was nowadays.
When Ginny first stumbled upon the Beckett Farmhouse, bloodied and unrecognizable, Ermano quickly took her in. Like any mother, she'd speak about her son, in hopes of finding him. The more time that passed, the less hope Ermano had of it happening.
"Should've come soon," he repeated, inching to the edge of his seat. "Gin, the chances of him being alive out there are slim to none. Sure, maybe a group took him in. And if they did, what makes you think they'd be near?" He hated this. He hated being that person for Gin, to plant devastating seeds, but he grew fond of her - and so did many others. "You have family here now. People who care about you, people who love you."
Well, she can say it, but it's a bit of a dick move when Ermano does. Ginny scowls as he echoes her words about leaving sooner but says nothing, letting her face do the talking. At least at first. He keeps going and her breath quickens, her eyes narrowing as he lays this at her feet, something to climb over before she can depart.
"I've told you," she says impatiently. "They'd be near because Henry knew where we were headed. He wouldn't have just let someone cart him off, or – or even if he did, he would've insisted they come back, eventually. You don't know him. He's quiet but he's... strong-headed." She's had too much time, maybe, to generate fantasies, sure paths that her son must've traveled. Insisting, searching, and hopefully, finding. It's just taking a while, that's all. So Ginny's going to meet him halfway. Maybe. Hopefully.
Ermano's last statement is enough to leave her scoffing, looking at him with open ridicule. "Family? Ermano, please. I'd hardly call this family. I know you've got a wife – ex-wife, whatever – here, so it's different for you, but let me tell you: a couple of years doesn't make a family." Doesn't it, though? The hypocrite in her head challenges. How long did you know Kat before you knew it'd be forever for you? Ginny doesn't give audience to that. But she also doesn't touch on the last bit of Ermano's statement, thinking about the too-recent admission of feelings from Jemma. It'd done some swaying, she won't deny that, but here she is, still set to depart tomorrow. "If these people really love me," she keeps going, more level now, clearly speaking in the third person but meaning Ermano, her biggest challenger thus far. "They'll understand how much this means to me. That it'll tear me apart to keep sitting and waiting."
“I never understood that saying. Are you giving me a penny in exchange? Or am I paying you a penny to listen?”
It wasn’t a question that needed answering, or even posing. She wasn’t even trying to deflect or stall, really. Ginny just watched her with such careful attention and she was feeling greedy for it. So she kept talking.
“I’m thinking that we should think of reasons other than folks leaving to have celebrations like this. People need this kinda thing…even the stingy-ass kings and queens of old would shell out for carnivals and stuff ‘cause they knew that people need to have fun sometimes. Need it. Like they need food.”
Ginny was still watching, a sad kind of smile starting to creep across her eyes. That’s how it happened with Ginny. The smile—or frown—started in her eyes before it ever got to her mouth.
“I’m loathe to call this fun, though. I’m not upset anymore,” she hurried to clarify. To fib, a little. “I’m just gonna miss you like crazy. You know that, right?” She reached over and idly let her thumb stroke the back of Ginny’s hand, feeling the faint tendons and veins that stood in relief.
“I heard somebody earlier talking about the friends we’ve made since this happened. How humans have to find contact somehow, no matter who they have to go to. But you, Gin, you are not because I needed to make something out of what’s left. Think I woulda picked you out of a million.”
"I think I'm supposed to offer you a penny, but that makes me a liar, because I'm fresh out of change." Ginny keeps joking, keeping things light but also keeping her gaze strictly on Jemma. Fresh out of change is strong, considering money's been pretty worthless for a few years, but it stands.
She finally looks away as the necessity of celebrations is mentioned, her nod slow as she takes in the sight of the crowd around the fire, the long slat of light spilling from the community center as the door opens and closes. "Like they need food," she echoes, looking back to Jemma with the predicted bittersweet smile. "Aw, c'mon. You're not enjoying this definitely-not-morose shindig?"
That was an attempt at continued joking, but it's not a train that Jemma boards along with her, and that's just fine. It's fair. It's welcome, even, especially when Jemma takes to tracing the ridges of Ginny's hand. "I do," she murmurs. "I'll miss you, too. Is there anything you want? Other than for me not to go." A flicker of a smile before she clarifies, "Out there, I mean. Is there anything I should keep my eyes peeled for on your behalf? Potato chips, I know already. But anything else?"
Her scattershot questions come to a close as she turns toward Jemma fully, having begun to slowly rotate in that direction as if tugged by a gravitational pull. Maybe that's what this is. That they were always meant to be in each other's orbit.
That seems to be what Jemma's saying, and Ginny closes her eyes, soaking in the warmth of it. It's a nice sentiment. A pretty one, if overly optimistic, but Ginny won't begrudge her that. Not when she's been called the exact same thing tonight.
There's a split in the road here, multiple paths she could take in replying. That of the pessimist, reminding Jemma that even if their lives hadn't been torn asunder by a virus, Ginny'd had a wife and a kid. That if they had encountered each other, it probably would've been too late for that one in a million chance. Or there's the high road of the optimist, citing fate, saying they were meant to be. Or saying what she's supposed to say, what she knows very well she hadn't reciprocated in Jemma's room. Just say it, you coward.
She doesn't take either of those paths. What she does is open her eyes to meet Jemma's gaze and say softly, "I'm so glad I found you. You're... you're much more than just contact to me. So much more." Meanwhile, she's turning over Jemma's hand where it traces hers and pushing something into the other woman's palm: a key. A formality, more than anything; the lock of the graveyard house only works about 50% of the time. But still. Then, before Jemma can object, Ginny's kissing her, right there in the orange wash of the firelight, uncaring of who might see. Her murmur against Jemma's mouth afterwards is a simple request, "Just keep an eye on it while I'm gone?" For however long that might be.
THE GINNY PARK MOODBOARD 🍂
"Should I have something to say?" Ermano's attention was pulled to those around them, enjoying the night. Gatherings came in a rarity for the community. With not much to celebrate, things flowed each day in routine. Maybe that's what Redwood was lacking ... something to look forward to.
"I'm not going to lie to you, Gin, I don't like it." Ermano turned his gaze to the woman, hands rubbing together. "I don't like the idea of you going but I have a feeling I know what this is about."
"You don't have to, but I can practically hear those wheels turning," Ginny replies easily enough, tapping at her own temple to indicate Ermano's forever-three-steps-ahead brain. The sort that might be nice to have on a trip like this, in fact. But Sol's capable in his own ways and Ermano's too valuable here. "This came together quickly. It's nice," she compliments, unknowingly thinking along a similar path to Ermano. When was the last time they'd had a gathering like this?
And then she sighs as he delivers what she'd expected. "There it is," she murmurs then turns to look at him fully. "Oh? What's it about, then? Maybe the one thing that I've been consistent about from the very start?" She searches his expression then shakes her head. "C'mon, Erm. You knew from day one that this was coming. It probably should've come sooner, but..." Ginny lets that dwindle, looking back toward the fire. No time to self-recriminate. She's only got now.

Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
“if only we’d be so lucky.” harlow commented, unsure if their tone come across as sarcastic or deadpan. they supposed it didn’t really matter, as they weren’t entirely sure which way they meant it to be taken. despite this, harlow reached into their jacket and rooted around for a moment before pulling out a folded sheet of paper. they smoothed it over and handed it out, their other hand bringing the cigarette up to their mouth again. “you want cursive?”
the paper had a few samples of calligraphy, some basic font choices. “have you had one done before?” harlow asked, unwilling to deal with someone who was going to give up just as the needle touched her skin. “that’s a pretty easy area. it won’t be too bad.” they stated, matter of factly, before crushing their cigarette against the desk they’d been sitting on. “what do you have to trade?”
"Ouch, Harlow. And here I thought we were best buds," Ginny responds, just as dry at the tattoo artist in front of her had been. It's true that she and Harlow are not especially close; to Ginny, they seem like they're encased in barbed wire. Frankly, she's not in the mood to get pricked trying to parse through it. So she doesn't dig any further into the comment, instead just settling herself into the empty chair and extending her wrist. "I was imagining something a little more... Times New Roman-esque. Call me boring." She leans forward to peer at the options for a moment before tapping on a plainer one. "Something like that."
Is it her first? Of course it is. Ginny had never risked a tattoo interfering with her hiring prospects, though she'd worn full sleeves more often than not. But to Harlow, she says, "No, not my first," sensing rejection if she says otherwise. Still, it's a relief when the wrist is declared a relatively painless area. For the best. As for a trade... Ginny grimaces a bit and leans back. "I'll be honest with you, I'm not about to start handing out meds or ammo when I'm about to hit the road. But I've got..." She pauses for a moment before offering with a shrug, "Tomatoes? From my garden, not the community one. There's a crop behind my house that still grows somehow. They're big, fat ones. Very nice tomatoes." Maybe her eyebrow wiggle is a little bit of overkill, but she's trying for the sell here.
starter for: @ginnypark
Sehwan hadn't really felt like attending some sort of community gathering. He wasn't exactly Mr. Social and these sorts of things always made him painfully aware of how much they all had to lose if things went wrong or if Redwood fell. He tended to stick as close as possible to survival mode, refusing to lower his defenses any. And a party like this? Well, to him it felt like everyone was letting themselves be lulled into a false sense of security. But that was the pessimistic in him.
However, when he'd heard through the grapevine that part of the reason for this shindig was to send off Sol... and Ginny, Sehwan knew he needed to come. He couldn't let Ginny leave for god knows how long without saying anything. Sure, things with his cousin had been uncomfortable, to say the least. But he still had a duty to care about her well-being. And that would never go away.
Scanning the community center upon entering it, his gaze stopped when it finally landed on the curly head of hair he was looking for. With his hands buried in his pockets, he approached Ginny, feeling the uncomfortableness of their situation make him even more awkward. "So, you're heading out tomorrow, huh?" Very articulate, Sehwan. Very articulate.
It had been an interesting conundrum in her early days in Redwood: Ginny had lost family and found it in one fell swoop. And specifically this family, a cousin with whom tensions had always run high. Maybe not always. But once he'd backed that senator and politics had cast a hard line between them, leaving them staring at each other from enemy fronts.
A reunion under these circumstances had the potential to fix everything. After all, what did politics matter anymore? But it hadn't. She's said things to Sehwan that she arguably shouldn't have. Maybe not would be the time to apologize. She doesn't. At least not now.
Instead, she turns from where she's perusing the tattoos to look at her cousin, nodding slowly as she crosses her arms across her chest. He's never had a way with words. Though right now, it feels like she doesn't, either. "I am. Bright and early," Ginny says, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. Lacking for anything else to say – or anything else she wants to say, she instead offers, "Is there anything you'd specifically like for me to look for out there?"
@ijemmaokafor Outside of the community center; during the party
Normally, Ginny tries not to take more than her fair share. That's the rule of this life, where supplies are sparse and time is often even more so. But this warm evening seems to dangle, at once endless and ending too quickly, so she takes what she wants. First, two beers swiped from Marya's quickly dissolving pong game. And then this: a long, quiet moment to look at Ijemma's features cast in the orange light of the fire, storing them in her memory before she extends a beer and a question. "Penny for your thoughts?"
location: community center, backrooms OPEN
they needed supplies. water, booze, clothes, ammo. medicine was the holy grail they were after, but that wasn’t something anyone was just going to give up. so for now, they’d take… anything. desperate times and all that.
which led them to here and now, sitting on a desk with crossed legs waiting to see if anyone had caught the fliers they’d been laying around town advertising tattoos for trade during the going away party.
“are you gonna pick one or just keep staring at my shit?” harlow questioned, blowing smoke of a cigarette they knew they shouldn’t have in the building. a dozen hand drawn pictures had been tapped to the wall, each of varying quality but none promising particularly high standards. “needles are clean. if you get an infection its on you.” harlow informed, assured that while the pictures may not be pretty they weren’t stupid enough to ignore sanitation.
"I was thinking of something else, actually," Ginny says, having eyed up the drawings for a while but not coming up with any that particularly spoke to her. She gives what she hopes is a charming look and a smile toward the would-be tattoo artist, suggesting, "As a favor? For the person who might never come back?"
So maybe she's milking it! Before she can be called on that, Ginny's in motion, sitting and extending her left arm toward Harlow so that the inner part of her wrist is toward the sky. "I want just the letter 'H'. Right here." She taps on the paler flesh there, pointing out her intended spot. "Nothing crazy." She's feeling a little crazy, but that's another issue entirely.
@ginnypark - event things
The gathering was a hit and well-needed. Everyone managed to behave themselves, which was Ermano’s biggest worry. No one wanted to experience or break up a fight when things were supposed to be uplifted .. even if they were technically saying ‘See you maybe never’ to two longtime friends. Ermano understood the mission and why it needed to be done. Sol was precisely the man to do it; his track record was spotless. Virginia, however, was a different story. When she had jumped at the opportunity to leave the community, Ermano couldn’t help but eye her carefully, looking for something to confirm his suspicions. Nothing gave it away then, but seeing her sitting by the fire alone, was the perfect opportunity to question her. “Don’t tell anyone I said this, but I’ll miss you,” he told her, planting himself a few feet away.
Ermano's timing is good. Before she can tumble too far into a rabbit hole of her own digging, staring into the fire and letting her mind wander to worst case scenarios. It's not too late to stay, the cowardly part of her mind is reminding her. And yet it feels, in some ways, like it's too late to go. Like she should've years ago. So she'll go now, because that's got to be better than nothing.
Or so she's trying to resolve to herself, dark gaze drawn to the flame like a moth. That is until a familiar voice drags it away and Ginny straightens up, forcing her forlorn expression into something more friendly. "It's a little late for confessions of love," she says dryly, knowing very well that Ermano's not intending that. "It could be my last night here and you're telling me to keep secrets? Tsk, tsk." Ginny blinks at him for a moment before prompting, "Something to say?"

Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
"Every lesbian in the world went vegetarian at some point," Ike says without much thought, nicking at the potatoes to get the eyes out. "That's just normal lesbian behaviour. Going vegan's taking it to the star tattoo level of lesbian." He slices off a small black spot, glancing over at Ginny. Her stories tend to be like this: curated and delivered for some specific purpose, not that Ike can tell what the reasoning behind this one is. She figures he'll enjoy stories of kooky woman-on-woman bliss? He'll revel in hearing about Ginny's lapse in willpower?
"It seems pretty intense to change up your entire dietary preferences for the sake of a girl you never even told about your crush," he says, trying to figure out where this is going. "You got a crush now, or something?"
But then it gets back to Ember, which he should've seen coming. Ike snorts with a half-grin when Ginny dryly remarks that they're friends, in case he doesn't remember, and he rolls a shoulder back in response. Feelings. Ugh. "I'm managing," he says, still prickly, because, because ...
Ginny gives him an opening and Ike, because because, takes it. He finishes up his vegetables and turns to look at her, running a thumb down the damp blade of the knife. "Yeah," he says. "Not a real parent like you. I didn't look for her even when the world was something approaching normal, not like you. I spilled seed and a baby happened and I took off and I didn't once think of Ember being here and I'm not even sure if I like her being here. Not like you, Ginny, eternally consumed with the thought of your little boy and what's happening to him. So don't ask if I'm about to become a parent. I'm gonna continue being nothing."
"Oh, Ike. We've been over this. Just because I'm not trying to bone you doesn't mean I'm a lesbian," Ginny says with a wry smile, not actually offended, just shaking her head and continuing with the cutting, watching half-moons tumble across the cutting board while Ike's talking about stars. "I think I would've preferred a tattoo over that much tofu."
He's searching for the meaning, which is fair. She hasn't exactly laid it at his feet, and doesn't now, instead making a little humming sound at his question. The answer is yes, of course, but that's wandering into Ijemma territory and that's not somewhere she wants to go. Not with him. Because one of these days she's sure someone will point at her and say that Jemma deserves better, someone who'll actually commit, for God's sake, and she suspects there's no one more likely than Ike to deliver that verdict on behalf of his best friend.
Instead they go headfirst into more rocky territory, tumbling so fast that she's left stepping back, still holding her knife like she's going to have to ward some biter off. Ike's words are biting enough. Ginny looks bewildered, head shaking as she demands, "Whoa. Can we run this back? Can you play the part of the tape where I ever, ever wished this upon you? I mean, really. You think that little of me? Jesus. If everyone was like me, looking for their kid in every dark corner, we'd never get a thing done around here. I wasn't asking to compare you to me. I was asking because I wondered how you felt. My mistake, though I guess you answered that question well enough."
That last bit's delivered through an embittered laugh as Ginny crosses back to the center of the kitchen, using the flat edge of the knife to scrape all of the zucchini into the waiting bowl. It looks more like bits of detritus than scraps of constellations, now. Still, she finally gets around to delivering the moral of her little fable. "I went vegetarian because I cared. That's what you do for people you care about. You change." In the back of her head she can hear Kat laughing, mocking and low. Like you refused to change for me? Even when I begged you to? But now's not the time for that. Instead Ginny holds Ike's gaze and says levelly, "You can go on being nothing and still have something. She's clearly too old for you to raise. But you've got an opportunity here, parenthood or not, and frankly? You'd be an idiot if you wasted it."
Once upon a time, Ermano’s five-year plan was to go to college to become a doctor. His mother had sacrificed the world for him - the least he could do was pay her back for everything. Have enough money to buy her a house, a brand new car - whatever she wanted. Hell, maybe one day he could’ve found the cure to diseases. One tragic night that vision blurred and vanished with nothing to replace it with.
Ermano sighed softly, battling whether he should ignore her first question. “There were a couple of close calls when I was on tour. Honestly, I thought I was going to die in combat, so I never really had a five-year plan.” He shifted his weight, pushing with his elbow to sit up again; this time, his elbows rested against his thighs.
Her question didn’t come as a surprise. Other members have asked the same, and he’s questioned himself on the matter. The same answer came each time. “That’s not in my blood to turn people away.”
"Makes sense. I guess I only met you after all of that," she recalls, remembering their first encounter in DC, the faraway look in Ermano's eyes. Like he was always at least half somewhere else. Somewhere he may have tried to leave entirely but hadn't succeeded. "And then again here." But they both know that story; it'd been Ginny who was wild-eyed and trapped that time. No need to rehash that.
That's their world now. No five year plans, no long looks to the future, though she's attempting a short one at the moment. One that Ermano essentially shuts down. Maybe not the most realistic, but she'll reap the benefits someday, she hopes. So she won't begrudge him the optimism he'd just said he wasn't privy to. "The Becketts made the right choice, then," she says simply, a compliment instead of a question, then leaves them to sit in the easy silence.
It’d been years since Ermano truly smiled. Truthfully it felt like decades. Was it when Maggie surprised him with the news of their pregnancy? No … it was after. They’d set up the nursery. Everyone warned the soon-to-be father about disagreeing with his wife, and yet he kept his foot down at the modern zoo-themed room. Despite his constant rejections of the idea, large stuffed animals filled the room, the walls emanating the feeling of being in a jungle. Still, Ermano smiled brightly at his excited wife.
"Between you and me?" Ermano asked, mimicking her actions. "I want to say no and have hope that everything will be okay. But my optimism died long ago." Or maybe he was being realistic? In these times, resources weren't as accessible as they were before the outbreak. But Redwood did just fine in supplying what was needed. "I'm just hoping the coming winter isn't harsh on us. Crops aren't privy to the cold, as we all know."
"Oh? Why ever would a thing like that happen?" That's clearly sarcasm. The death of optimism has been a side effect of a zombie apocalypse for many. But not for her. Not entirely. She has a certain little boy to thank (or to blame?) for that.
Winter's months away, but of course Ermano's already planning. He's the type, thinking six steps ahead. "Did people ever ask you about your five year plan, during the normal times?" Ginny asks, something of a non-sequitur, but she doesn't bother to explain her train of thought. "I always had some, like, prepped and ready statement. Even in high school. Guess I was meant to work in PR."
Back then isn't the point of this conversation, though. So she brings it back to the present – or the hypothetical future. "Do you think there'll ever come a day where we start turning away newcomers?" She isn't asking out of the goodness of her heart or concern for potential newbies. She's asking because she hopes that, when the day comes that she's been waiting on for years now and the gates are closed, an exception will be made for her. For her son.
Back when he spent his day in the gym and his nights in the ring, Sol divided folks--all folks--into two categories: the ones you had to provoke, and the ones that were already moving. It was a practical dichotomy in a fight, and it worked in most other arenas, too. Some opponents were their own worst enemies, wailing on you without rhyme or reason, just wearing themselves out. These were the guys that liked to take a hit. That needed someone to just knock 'em a good one, right in the jaw. They couldn't get their head on straight until you made 'em stop moving.
Ginny was doing a pretty good imitation of one of those guys.
And that was more than fine. Sol had kinda always preferred those fights, anyway. He liked playing brick wall.
So he waited until she was out of anger and into bargaining. Asking him questions like the answer might make it all feel productive. The one she landed on almost had him scoffing though.
"Don't think our location is really a big secret. I mean, we don't have billboards advertising or anything, but we're not exactly hiding. And it ain't like I give folks coordinates. But hey," he lowered his voice and almost reached out to put a hand on her shoulder. Halfway there, he aborted the contact into a pointing gesture.
"If it is a risk, there's no better reason to take it than Henry. I mean christ, if that ain't the point of putting life back together, I don't know what we're playing at."
Ginny dips her chin as Sol does the same with his voice. Not like she's bracing to take a hit, but like she's hitting the ground after flying above it for a long while. Which she arguably was, moving a mile a minute. "That's true," she concedes about not hiding. Then concedes to breathing a little easier, running her hands back through her hair more slowly, letting her diaphragm stretch and expand and inhale.
Sol's making it easier to breathe, too. Ginny takes in what he says, the sincerity of his expression, the seriousness of each syllable. And finally, all of the hell she'd just given him is bookended by gratitude. He's never treated her like she was crazy. Not once. Not even when she was starting to fear it about herself. He's put his skin on the line to try and restore her life for her, asking nothing in return.
"Thank you," Ginny finally says after a long moment of just looking. Processing. The words don't feel like enough. What possibly could? She hesitates for a moment before closing the distance between them, wrapping her arms around Sol for a brief hug. It's even more awkward than she'd anticipated, but at the moment, it's all she has to offer other than words. And she needs to give something else. "Thank you," she says again against his shoulder before pulling back before they can both start squirming. "It means... more to me than I can say. And I'm sorry. You didn't deserve that..." She flaps a hand for a second before landing on a word. "Flaying. It's not your fault that he's not..."
Here, she doesn't finish. They both know that. "But he will be," Ginny pivots instead. "He will be. Someday." She steps back on the dirt, unsure of what else to say. "...Thanks, Sol," she repeats one more time before turning back in the direction of her home. Before she can go through another stage of grief for the umpteenth time.
"Sign me up for that committee," Renzie added, just as deadpan. Even more irony in it because he wasn't even sure if a vetting committee would authorize him, never mind the imaginary vetting for spices. But, better to make light of all of it, easier.
Ginny filled in some blank spaces about herself; the past had a way of paling since the outbreak. No one could ever travel to Busan now, or watch a show about it, or Wikipedia it. The grim statement 'who cares' flickered in Renzie's mind. Histories were useless. And so were... "Uh, last name...yeah. I'm - I lost it," he confessed; and despite being told over and over that it was best to forget the past, Renzie felt terrible for losing his family name. "I got a new name, out there. I forgot...a lot about myself. Sitting here, I've trying to remember what it was."
He was glum, until Ginny mentioned Ocean City. A smile twitched. "I liked Ocean City - the Jersey one, anyway. You mean family like...you were married?" He shook his head, raising a hand at her question about the Cape. "No...no, I don't want to talk about what went down in Cape May. I'm sure it happened like anywhere else, and it was a long time ago. It happened, it was bad, no surprise there. How'd you survive after Maryland, Ginny? How'd you make it here?"
Ginny made Redwood sound like a paradise that Renzie still wasn't sure he trusted, but. What was the alternative? "Out there I was with people. They...weren't good people," Renzie admitted, putting the empty bowl down on the floor, by the cell bars. He drank his allotted water from the canteen. "Scavengers, very territorial. But they kept me alive, so....anyway. They're all dead now. Zombie swarm killed them and I...ran." Renzie shook his head. "It didn't feel cowardly at the time."
I lost it. Ginny can't help but squint at that, suspicious at first, though that gives way to bemusement. "Huh," she murmurs to herself, considering, then shrugging. "I guess it doesn't matter much anymore, does it?" What's in a name, especially nowadays? It feels like a part of her identity, to Ginny, but it doesn't make much difference anymore. "Good thing we weren't planning on checking IDs," she cracks a smile, back to lighter jokiness. "Renzie works just fine."
You were married? That makes it sound so simple, a summary, an overview. "I was," Ginny says rather than refuting. "I also have a son." Out there. Somewhere. Not beside her like he should be. Henry would've been shy toward newcomers, she's sure of it. Would he have been too shy to approach a group out there?
She blinks back into focus when Renzie rejects her question. With images of Kat and Henry spinning in her head, she just gives a tight smile and answers rigidly, "The same way you did, I imagine." If he's not going to give, she won't, either. It's fine. It'll spare them both some suffering, probably.
Not all of it, though. Ginny nods at Renzie's self-deprecation. "I get it. Something similar happened to me out there. Those swarms come in fast." Given that he's disclosed the fate of his group already, part of her doesn't want to ask... but the rest of her knows she's got to. Ginny straightens up, making clear that she intends to depart, but also, "One last thing. Your group... was a little boy traveling with you? Well, not little. Not anymore. He'd be about thirteen, nowadays. Blonde. Thick-framed glasses."

Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
Ember just gave a small nod at Ginny's condolences - she was glad the woman didn't push the topic and understood that was one thing she didn't want to talk about it.
And when Ginny cracked up and asked back if it really is nice to meet her, Ember tilted her head to take the woman, gave her a look. "Honestly? I'd say at least 50% of it is the food, yeah. And the fact that I am safer than I've been in years. And I'm trying to be polite." Trying the key word - her brash, to the point way might not make it seem like at all times. "But when do you really, truly, 100% mean meeting somebody being nice after about five minutes of conversation, maybe even less? I am meaning it as much as I possibly can."
Was it jarring? It wouldn't have necessarily been the word she used. "I think mostly I am just glad I can be safe so far. Kind of feels surreal, for the most part. Overwhelming, to a point - but honestly? I am just tired and it feels nice to let myself be tired." She hasn't really allowed herself to just empty her brain for a good while. She couldn't sleep, Ember has been struggling falling asleep for about a year now, but even this felt amazing. "Ask me about everything else after I spent some time out of this cell, I think I can describe it better then." She wasn't trying to be arrogant, insinuating that she'd get accepted and let inside no matter what, she was trying to convince her that this was going to happen - because if they turned her away, she'd be crushed, no better word about it.
And there they were - the questions. Ember has been expecting them and felt better having them laid out in front of her. She didn't mind getting to know Ginny, mind you - but she'd prefer no bars between them, and until them, the faster she could get through the questions, hopefully the faster she could get out of here. "I was traveling alone. I don't know exacltly how long I've been alone, but it's been a hot seconds already. Before that I was traveling with one single person." She pointed over to Renzie, who was sleeping over in the other cell. "Him. Renzie. We met up a couple of months back and then got seperated after a while. I didn't realize we were so close to each other until I saw him in the cells. He is one of the good guys, though, if you're wondering."
"No need to be polite," Ginny encourages, though it seems like Ember doesn't need the invite, pushing on ahead in her theory about the tediousness of meeting people. At that, she just gives a wry smile, shrugging. "You've got a point. Well, I think it's nice to meet you, Ember." And then, so they can stop dodging around the elephant in the... cell... "Your father's a friend of mine."
Ginny can read between the lines just fine, and what she's getting from Ember is leave me alone. She won't begrudge her that; the outside world truly is exhausting, especially compared to Redwood. So maybe the girl just wants some rest. She can respect that. "I'll follow up then," she promises and means it. It's part of her job, after all. But so is seeing to the food and wellness of those in the cells, so leaving Ember alone is arguably part of the job, too.
A bit more of a give and take is what she's always hoping for in these conversations. But this wouldn't be the first time she's been let down. No mentions of a little boy, of a traveling band of survivors. Just her and... remarkably, the man sleeping beside them. Normally she'd press more, but something's stopping her. Maybe the terrible coincidence of it all.
"Hm. Renzie. Alright." Ginny makes note of the name so that she can greet him with it later then pushes herself off of the wall to stand properly. "Well, you're not alone anymore. But I'll leave you to some time by yourself to enjoy the rest of your meal. If you need anything else while you're in there, don't be afraid to ask." And then she turns to leave before Ike's kid can accept or reject that offer.
Council Meeting 7/25/42
Transcript of the meeting where Sol filled in council on 1) campground community he made contact with, 2) group of savages he took out, and 3) increased rumors and talk about mutant zombies. Council approved Sol traveling again, this time heading west, with Ginny accompanying.
@ermanodelgcdo
@isaacapatow
@salemcampbell
@ginnypark
@tristan---miller