Feb 10, 2016
âWhatâs up, buttercup?â
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âWhatâs up, buttercup?â
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The entrance of their current haven had been encircled by several vehicles; some greatly rusted and others merely forsaken weeks prior. One would assume the circumstances had been a similarity to their own recent occurrence - clickers tearing their way throughout the remaining survivors and forcing them to flee with whatever their arms could encompass. For Lexie, as others continued to be useful in the interest of scavenging supplies, she had opted to manipulate her boredom into something of worth: fixing up an abandoned military truck.
âAs much as I can learn to love the view of you standing around,â she teased, easing herself out of the narrow gap between vehicle and cement. âCan you pass me that?â
 â I donât look like me in these clothes. Arenât mine dry already?â Sav whined. She definitely didn't enjoy getting a bath.
âOn the bright side,â he paused for a beat, rifling throughout the limited supply of food each survivor had scavenged. âThereâs less mouths to feed.â
Ivy felt dizzy. And she couldnât tell why the voices from the people who werenât that far from her sounded like she had been trapped in a bottle. Her mind focused in a non-existant groan. She had to put her both feet on the floor, before she fainted. Just for a second, Ivy lost her sense of gravity.
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Fire was the key. Ironic, considering the history: the way the flames licked up Fall City, and every other place across the country that had been levelled by the government. It was effective. Savannah had joined in, after Lexieâs initial overarm of a lit up bottle of Vodka, and it didnât take long till the armour of fungus had fallen, and the Bloater was shrivelling against the ground of the old hospital cafeteria. Clickers were quick to follow, after that, flooded the entire area. There werenât many survivors left now, it seemed -- the numbers had been surely cut in half, he thought, with a quick sweep of his surroundings.Â
Now that Lexie had found Savannah and the main threat had been eradicated, it was time to move. Sunlight harsh against his eyes as they pushed the doors open and ran down a trail. Gwen yelled out directions. Something sheâd seen on a map; a town up North. It sounded like a stampede; a herd of their own as they sprinted through the forest. Casey wasnât sure if they were being followed by the infected, but by the time a gas station came into view, and he was leaning over with his hands on his knees to catch his breath, he was sure that they were safe -- even if only for now.
An auto shop, a police department. An old vacancy/no vacancy sign without the flashing lights hanging from a pole. âHomeâ was a relative term. He hadnât known such a place since Massachusetts, since he was pressed against the wall of the front foyer, his dead child clutched in his arms. This, he thought, would do perfectly. His toe was bleeding. He held onto a tree to keep steady as he examined the heel of his foot. Cuts and scrapes. The price of running through a hospital and the woods and fighting infected without shoes, or any other item of clothing except a tattered pair of briefs. Casey had his hands on his hips, tried to steady his breathing before speaking to nobody in particular: âGuess we should go scope out the place. Look for some supplies. You with me?â
for all of the light that I shut out | lexie & savannah.
     â Keep âem coming! â Savannah grinned. The bloater right in front of her, her whole body feeling as a bag of ants running up and down it. The adrenaline, the thrill. How many times had she been put to face death like this? For a second, a shadow mirrored what once were Xavierâs position as the dark haired girl danced in a fight against the dead.       The alcohol bombs played it cool. It confused the bloater. Lexie and her, after such little time, they had found something on each other. Savannah was unsure to tell what the brunette could have find on such bird bones as hers but would definitely agree with every thought of the brunette being one of the strongests pillars of this community. Community. What did Sav know from communities?
       She was usually a one focus girl but the long day had been enough to distract her. Her ankle cracked. It could have been worse but it caught her off guard and she hit the floor. The rage of the beast found her when she screamed, way more angry than hurt, when she put her foot on the floor again. One hit and Savannah remembered what pain Stephanie used to suffer from.Â
       One last bomb hit the bloater.
       Confused, Savannah watched him fall with one last agony scream and felt shivers down her spine. Then, as if he had been the lowest instrument of this Wagnerâs theme and it was Russianâs time, the clickers showed up as in Tchaikovskyâs Swanâs Lake; in groups of four. The girl glanced over the furniture, inclined against a wall.        Lexie was behind that barricade, trying to come to her. And the dark haired girl smiled at the sight of her conflicted face. The clickers were quicker and easily sorted it out: the running sounds, people trying to move each other, coming from behind. Even Lexie was loud, trying to make her come back.       â Shut up and run! â Savannah threw right at her one and only companion, now. â Meet me outside! â  And as if it was poetry, the man who was with her seemed to understand as she fired her last bullets.                                  ***
      They came in at 14:12 pm. In less than a half hour or so, the monsters had made another hell out of an utopic heaven. Savannahâs stupid clock said it was 14:56 pm. The sun was shining in its most idyllic way, as if he couldnât foreshadow the horror that was left behind her. Dexter didnât show up, so he was most likely dead. Pressumably dead. Savannah was now left alone: not an only answer, not a solid way of survival (since she was left without bullets and had fiven the male her knife). And lord only knew how hard it had been to get away from the damn clickers that isolated her again. Apollo graced her with a solid midday shadow on the flor her hurt ankle scratched as her new adcquired limp screamed to be recognised. Savannah was not one to heal. Her red scarf, made by the only familiar she would admit she ever had, was teared, such as her clothes.        But she kept walking, born back to her endless solitude.Â
so, all hail the underdogs | corvo, gwen & ivy
   It was hard to breath. No as if they were underwater. It was similar to a sand storm. Ivy tried to cover herself up. Spores were all over. Since she had been walking with Amanda among the dead, the girl had lost track of Gwen until some hands pulled her over the room. She lifted from the ground Amanda had pushed her against when the bomb exploded.    Then the sunlight rose against her abused eyes. Corvo lead the way, had oppened it. She didnât exactly think about the people they were leaving behind.