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◝ ⟢ ˖ it was a long shot to come all the way down to the abandoned supermarket to scavenge, and it was particularly dangerous to do it alone. but their brother had been asleep, tired out of his poor mind after his own scavenging adventures the night prior, and jack saw an opportunity they rarely had these days: spend some time alone, doing this at their rhythm, on their terms. so, here they were now, armed with their usual pocket knife, an empty bag, and a heart full of hope. because you had to have hope to search a supermarket two months into an apocalyptic outbreak — it was, easily, the first place people raided, the first place to run out of things, and the first one to get swamped by infected. however, jack persevered, and her determination ( or stubbornness—you’re welcome to call it what you want ) paid off when she entered the storage section and among several opened boxes, she found an unopened one.
“ bingo, bastards … ” she murmured with a smirk, her quiet steps taking her to her goal as she swiftly retrieved her pocket knife from her jeans. she sighed in anticipation, sliding the edge of the knife under one of the box’s borders, and then—thud. the noise froze jack’s blood in her veins, turned her paler than she was, and made her hold her breath until she got dizzy. her fist closed tighter around her knife, and her body moved on auto-pilot — defense mode, attack position. “ whoever you are—whatever you are, get out and fight me, bitch, i don’t have all day. ”
alex wandered the streets with the small group of three that had broken off from their bigger scavenging group. the supermarket was somewhere she was going to skip, figuring it was flipped over and emptied multiple times by now. just as she was about to pass, she paused and changed her mind. maybe she'd see something that someone else missed.
after assuring her companions that she'd meet up with them shortly, she entered the store quietly and wandered towards the back in hopes of finding some kind of medication to bring back to the community. the hushed voice made her pause, despite the relief that she wasn't going to have to deal with something undead, she knew that there was a different kind of danger that came with running into someone.
her body inched closer to the aisle, not realizing the item behind her was knocked from the shelf until it collided to the ground. the silent wince intensified at the sound of her voice. "i come in peace." the knife in hand was held by her thumb despite her hands behind in the air, stepping out to be in view.
fighting wasn't something she wanted, selfishly for her back, but because she didn't want to bring unwanted attention in the form of something else. "what did you find?"
✟ » STATUS … CLOSED
✟ » LOCATION … SAINT MARLOWE (THE ADMINISTRATIVE OFFICE)
✟ » SURVIVOR(S) … VIOLET BARRON [ @lastdcys ]
it's not often saint marlowe receives supplies either from cedar grove or supply runs, so each time a new shipment arrives, it lifts the community's spirit. thus, seeing a few boxes of recently arrived goods in the administrative office, which posed as a storage room, brought a temporary sense of relief to drew. the community will make it a little further, and in times like these, that's all that mattered, really — surviving till the next day. ❝ there's always something that needs to be done, it didn't even occur to me to track time between shipments, ❞ drew shared while reaching for the next item in the closest supply box. ❝ this time, though [ … ] ❞ a slow exhale followed as drew shook their head, a faint, uneasy smile crossing their features. ❝ it had me counting days. ❞ it was a reminder that no matter how comfortable and safe one would become in a fixed place, there was no guarantee of it continuing much longer. always one step away from a type of failure no one would come back from. ❝ this goes on your shelf. ❞ drew quickly added, handing violet a box of medication.
the buzz of the community on delivery day was infectious, lifting her spirits in a way that could only compare to when she purchased something of luxury for herself. maybe even the delirium that came after a strenuous class of hot yoga. "i wish that they could find some new pillows," the fall of her head was as dramatic as the sigh that followed. "— don't get me wrong, i'm grateful for everything that we have." she wouldn't ever admit it but she could now sleep through the occasional bangs or odd bumps in the night.
even the crawlies in the middle of the night no longer made her jump out of bed and go into a panic. "a pillow would be nice, though. mine may as well be a piece of cardboard." the bed wasn't half bad so no complaints there. her hand reached out to take the box from drew, placing it on the shelf. "what's the one thing you miss most about your past life? like, some stupid luxury." the big things were to be expected but she was hoping to maybe be surprised. "i feel like i took nail polish for granted."
STATUS ⸻ CLOSED STARTER @lastdcys
LOCATION ⸻ COMMUNITY 02: SAINT MARLOWE, STAFF BREAK ROOM.
Amara had gotten good at making very little look like enough. Two mugs sat on the counter in front of her, whatever passed for coffee these days divided between them with enough hot water added that calling it coffee was probably generous. Still, it was warm, and warm counted for something. She nudged one toward the empty seat across from her just as Violet came into view.
❝Before you say anything, I already did everything I was supposed to do today.❞ A beat passed before Amara’s mouth twitched. ❝Mostly.❞ She sank into the chair, wrapping both hands around her own mug. There were probably three other places she could be useful right now. That thought had followed her all the way here, which was precisely why she was making herself stay put. Her gaze flicked toward Violet. ❝You ever get used to this?❞ Amara asked. ❝Sitting down when there’s still shit that needs doing? Because so far, I’m terrible at it.❞
today was better than the last. partly because she got out of helping tidy up the main room but because of her ingenious way she'd gotten lucky enough to talk someone into taking kitchen duties from her for a while. a few days, if she was lucky. while not quite against the idea of helping out, violet didn't think that her assets were being used adequately.
set a new legal system for this new world, she could respond to that call. but use her blunt nails to scrape off dried food from a plate was not it.
"i'm not the duty police," violet assured her and plopped down, peering at the liquid in front of her. her tastebuds hadn't adapted to this world yet. dull, bland, watered down. she was just thinking about subway moments prior— but she could only whine about so much at once. "i think the trick is to pick and choose what you can do. we're clearly not going anywhere anytime soon so you've got time. pace yourself."
🛠 » STATUS … OPEN (0/4)
🛠 » LOCATION … APARTMENT BUILDING ROOFTOP OVERLOOKING THE SUPPLY ROUTE BETWEN PROTECTED COMMUNITIES
there was no knowing the precise schedule for military patrols nor supply convoys passing through. miles had spent a couple of weeks observing them from afar, tracking the movements of guards protecting the lives of those stationed somewhere nearby. there were rumors, guesses, of the protected locations, but they differed from person to person, which could either mean that no one knew where the communities were located or that someone was indeed correct, but there was no way of knowing which whisper was correct without risking putting oneself in danger. every step was risky now, every decision could be your last. with that in mind, miles was more than fine to observe some more until he gained enough intel to decide on the next step in his plan.
relying on silence and keeping a low profile, miles preferred to observe from a distance or from a certain height that would buy him some time to escape in case something unexpected were to take place. right before sunset, miles swiftly entered an abandoned apartment building, climbing all the way to the rooftop for a better view of the surrounding streets. it had become some sort of a habit of his by now. scavenge for supplies, secure a spot for the night, and climb somewhere high to observe. this evening happened to be one of note. miles marked down the approximate time and location in his notebook before resuming his surveillance.
this time, it was only a couple of military convoys. most likely transferring supplies. given the inconsistent schedule, there had to be a reason behind such timing. running low on supplies, perhaps? miles' train of thought was interrupted by the sound of something or someone climbing up the ladder, causing him to reach for the knife attached to his right thigh. he quietly positioned himself facing the spot where the intruder would soon reveal themselves. miles held his breath for a long moment until he spotted another survivor climb up. he had seen them around before, but that was not enough for him to remove his hand from the knife. ❝ this rooftop is occupied. ❞ miles stated without raising his voice, fingers slowly wrapping around the hilt of his knife, eyes fixed on the stranger.
her intent for joining the scavenging party was purely selfish. while she would always have her eye open for food, medical necessities, and whatever else that could help her community, she was in search for a new brace. the tattered material that once synched her into place was now worn and stretched out.
the building in the distance was one she'd seen during her last outing but hadn't managed to visit. it was where she headed first as her group began scouting buildings closer to the community. her rise was silent— or as much as it could be given the debris and whining of the ladder that had rusted with time from the elements and neglect.
the first crunch beneath the weight of her boots made her wince, the second did little to settle the worry that even her heavy panting was too loud.... and then she heard his voice. her body stilled, head tilted in the direction of the individual who came into view. they'd crossed paths before. the words were simple and the exchange was weary but he hadn't crossed her as someone to be worried about. at least not in the moment.
"i didn't see your name on the damn door." her tone held a bit of a tease in hopes of lightening the mood, shoulders tense at the sight of the blade in his palm. "i'm just here for a better look and then i can leave you be," she wasn't willing to back down but she also knew that she was at a disadvantage since her own weapon was tucked in her boot and he'd easily close the space between them. what she knew was that she wasn't going to deliberately let it known that she had a group nearby who was still in earshot in case he tried something.
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✦ (LAURA HARRIER, CIS WOMAN, SHE/HER) ⸻ Is that VIOLET BARRON? Before the outbreak, the 35-year-old worked as a PARALEGAL. Those who have crossed paths with them describe them as CONFIDENT, though pressure often reveals their IMPATIENT nature. They are often associated with A CRUMPLED PICTURE OF A CAT SHE FOUND THAT RESEMBLED PRINCESS THE CAT SHE OWNED, STOCKPILING LIPGLOSS LIKE HER LIFE DEPENDS ON IT, ONCE ALMOST CONSIDERED REMOVING NECESSITIES FROM HER BAG FOR A PAIR OF HEELS.
— ABOUT
NAME: violet barron
AGE: 35
GENDER: cis woman
PRONOUNS: she / her
BIRTH TOWN: SoHo, new york city
FACECLAIM: laura harrier
— A LITTLE BIT MORE:
tw: addiction, death
violet grew up living with a duality of being thankful that she was an only child to a single mother whilst still wishing that she had someone to share the burden with. the reality was that she grew up in an unsteady home with a mother who often felt more like a child or younger sibling than she did a mother. despite her father's constant absence and shortcomings, there were moments of financial security and stability whenever he came out of a rehab facility and managed to keep his sobriety for a few months at a time.
her mother was often her best self when violet's father was around, shortly finding her own ways to keep the company of another person when he disappeared and didn't leave home. the late nights would start and as much as violet would try to wake her mother up to go to work and bring her to school, she often left with her mother still in bed while she walked to school herself.
at the age of sixteen, the news of her father's death became a blessing in disguise. he had already felt gone to her given the longer stints away but it provided her mother with a freedom to finally look for a future with someone else. a person who would replace her daughter and who could care for her. within a few months, her mother had relocated with a man and violet decided to move in with her friend's family until she finished high school.
her grades skyrocketed and she pursued a job as a paralegal. the newfound freedom of being on her own and being successful was intoxicating and she enjoyed every moments she could by making up for the time loss of being a teenager who cared for her mother than who was out being rebellious. nevertheless, she still had her studies in mind and remained at the top of her class.
her work and belongings soon took priority as it was the first thing she'd done for herself. they came first and she put everything else aside... until the world turned on its head a few years into living her dream life.
she moved from group to group, trusting when she could, travelling alone when needed, until she found the safety of the community 2. life hasn't been easy for and despite realizing the luxuries of her past life are gone, she still hasn't been able to adapt to the constant presence of others while trying to mourn her old life. since her arrival, she helps when she cans and sometimes tries to get out of chores, especially when it involves the kitchen. her white ragdoll cat that she knows is still alive in her apartment is often the reason for her tears and she has a picture she found in a magazine of what looks like princess tucked under her pillow at all times.
✦ (MELISSA BARRERA, CIS WOMAN, SHE/HER) ⸻ Is that ALEJANDRA “ALEX” IBARRA? Before the outbreak, the 37-year-old worked as a PARAMEDIC. Those who have crossed paths with them describe them as CONFIDENT, though pressure often reveals their IMPULSIVE nature. They are often associated with TATTERED MEDICAL BAG, BLOOD STAINED CLOTHES FROM PAST PATIENTS, BEING AWOKEN BY THE MEMORIES OF SCREAMS AND THE FEELING OF DRIED BLOOD THAT CAN NEVER FULLY BE CLEANED FROM HER SKIN (mel, 31, she/her, est, and abuse and animal abuse) Diversity Criteria: FCOC. Sorting: no preference
— ABOUT
NAME: alejandra "alex" ibarra
AGE: 37
GENDER: cis woman
PRONOUNS: she / her
BIRTH TOWN: las vegas, nevada
FACECLAIM: melissa barrera
— A LITTLE BIT MORE:
tw: death, addiction, chronic pain
born in the middle of a summer storm, alex came into the life with an immediate strike against her. the woman who had lost the support of her family and the longterm relationship with her on and off again boyfriend after deciding to keep the child she was pregnant with would lose her life bringing the baby into the world. on the side of the road, without medical assistance being able to get herself in time, she hemorrhaged.
one of the paramedics who would arrive on site a few minutes too late would become her lifeline to normalcy and family. after spending a month in the NICU, alejandra went home to stay with alessia until she was officially adopted just shy of her first birthday.
growing up, alejandra had everything she wanted but still felt like something was amiss. she didn't resemble her family and always felt like an odd man out between her siblings. rebellion came naturally as it did with most teenagers while she tried to find something to erase the sensation of feeling like the black sheep.
when things started to go south, her mother closed her accounts and threatened to kick her out until she got her act together. luckily, the ultimatum was given to her at the right time and she turned it around— graduating at the top of her class and becoming a paramedic.
as a paramedic, she thrived and felt, for the first time, that she was in the right place and right field. it had been just shy of her third year in the field when she responded to a call and slid down a metal staircase with a patient and hurt her back.
rehab was horrendous and despite being allowed to return to work, little did they know that she was controlling the pain with painkillers. the pain was relentless and stealing morphine was what got her through most of her shift towards the end. it didn't take long before questions began to rise, people began to notice, and as a result, she took an impromptu vacation to los angeles to visit friends when the entire world shifted.
she was caught in a town without being able to contact her family, with no support or protection, eventually going through withdrawals until she managed to find herself into a commune.
during her time in the commune, working to help the injured was second nature though it has been unforgiving on her body. the pain is constant and you can often find her roaming at night due to the fact that laying down often makes her back scream.
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