matthew-oshea:
To say that Matthew O’Shea felt more at ease on a vast grass covered field then surrounded by tall buildings was an understatement. At least in an open field he could see threats coming. But not here. Not surrounded by tall, cold, stone, skyscrapers. The hollowness of the scenery around him did little to quench the uneasiness that seemed to be a constant suffocating presence in the pit of his stomach. Being separated from his sister and girlfriend in a foreign country wasn’t high on his list of things to do, and yet here he was, stranded with a group of people he barely even knew just trying to figure out a way to survive the sudden apocalypse. But he had to make it work. If there was any chance, any small, minuscule chance, of finding his sister and his girlfriend again then he had to fight for it. He had to try. That still didn’t mean he was used to trusting complete strangers. Especially not in this new world where danger was an ever present threat.
Unpacking his backpack, Matt took notice of everything he had, cataloging a checklist in his mind. Not that he believed any one of his new companions would steal from him, there was still room for a little paranoia. He didn’t talk much–hadn’t even before the world went to shit–so forming any sort of bond with anyone was difficult for him. He didn’t particularly like feeling vulnerable and weak in front of a complete stranger. And not having his sister or girlfriend–Ellie had always been the strong one–around didn’t help his uneasiness. But he knew people thrived on conversation, thrived on comradely, especially in dire situations. So he’d have to find–
A strong stench hit Matt square in the face, the smell so strong he had to turn his head away just to keep himself from throwing up. “Shit,” he muttered, withdrawing the bagged sandwich and trying not to hurl. The food was molded, covered in green and black fuzz and Matt made a face, holding up the zip-lock to better inspect the damage. “Brilliant,” he muttered to himself, tossing the wasted food over his shoulder. “Absolutely brilliant.” He’d have to find something else to eat or have to rely on one of his new friends. And while he had no reason to not trust his companions, having to rely on someone else for food didn’t really sit well with him. He didn’t want to have to owe anyone. He knew how dangerous debts were.
In Luna’s mind, [ THEY WERE GONE. ]
Her friends, any of these she had ever touched lives with that weren’t around her in present. Her cousins, her family -- though she was always the off one out -- they were still her family. They were still the blood and flesh that connected her to other lines of people deeply rooted in old generations and now -- they were gone. Being in England when she should’ve been in New York for the end of the world turned out to be her biggest regret of regrets thus far, and it really made her blood boil. Perhaps there was pain behind the loss of losing so many, but Luna chose instead to be angry because none of this was supposed to happen. None of this made sense.
No longer did Luna’s sass have a joking edge to it but they were now cutting, the only person their tongue did not maim on most occasions was their best friend Mahlia who had thankfully come with them.
( Luna thought about the possibility of being alone in this brave new world full of falling skies and walking dead -- she would’ve been heartless instead of just frozen. COLD. Cutting. )
No longer did Luna even feel the urge to care about others, and yet, they joined a group that required the very thing she had not the slightest inclination to do. Even with her background, she had no heroic urges, and while she knew that being a good person meant feeling slightly bad that she didn’t ( care, that was ) -- -- she didn’t.
Why? Because Luna wasn’t a good person.
As they walked up to the fresh face in front of her, she simply surveyed the predicament from afar, seeing the disgust on his face, surveying the wasted food ( that should’ve been stored or destroyed properly, they would soon reprimand him on ), “you leave your moldy smelling food out here like that, zombies will come and kill us. You don’t want to be responsible for us all dying, do?” Luna looked him once over, “because you will be.”
