#kinnywrites

INJURED MEME: SEND ME A SENTENCE

hunters were really becoming a nuisance in the city of new orleans. in theory, poppy didn’t mind hunters ---- but rarely did they ever just kill rogue supernatural creatures and try to enforce peace. mostly, they killed for sport. hunted for the hell of it. and it was really starting to get on poppy’s nerves. for the most part she had excellent self control, even before she had been bitten and turned into a werewolf. but every full moon, poppy was forced to shift, and every time, it fucking sucked. trying to curb her internal desire to hunt while also fleeing from hunters who lurked all over the woods was difficult business. poppy was just lucky to have gwen with her. gwen was born a werewolf and so the full moon didn’t force her body to break all of its bones and shift, but she still did it on full moons so poppy didn’t have to be alone. 

after a very long night of staring at the moon, chasing deer and rabbit, and running side by side, poppy finally felt the moon’s affect on her slacken, and her body began to reform itself into a human again. it was painful but quick, and within minutes she and gwen were both standing, fully clothed, ready to go home ---- when all of a sudden, gwen’s eyes rolled back a little and she stumbled. “you okay?” poppy raised an eyebrow, touching the other girl’s arm gently. “yeah, i’m okay,” gwen answered in a dazed voice, “i just need to sit down for a minute.” and so poppy walked back a few feet and found a bolder, upon which she brought gwen to sit. just then, she noticed a cut on gwen’s leg that had a faint purplish tint to it. “i think i see your problem,” poppy said solemnly, “wolfsbane. you must’ve scraped your leg on some while we were shifted.”

INJURED MEME: SEND ME A SENTENCE

living with ronnie was becoming more routine every day, and sloane was really starting to enjoy herself and the other girl’s company, at least as much as anyone can enjoy anything during the god damn apocalypse. but the girls had a system, and it worked well for them. by day, they would venture out into the street: collecting supplies, scavenging for food, looking for weapons. and at night they would lock the doors to the tattoo parlor, lie down, and try to sleep without dwelling too much on the sounds of zombies moaning and scratching to get inside.

the day started out no different than any other. ronnie knew the streets much better than sloane did since sloane was a newcomer, whereas ronnie worked in the area before the world ended. it was a good system too, because sloane was much more suited to fight the zombies and kill them. she had picked up a few more knives along the way and kept them in all sorts of places: tucked into her boots, stuffed in her bag, hidden under the pile of blankets where she slept. she currently had her favorite weapon in her hand ---- a pair of scissors. ronnie was inside an old store whose front windows were both broken, grabbing whatever she could find and sloane stood outside, the look on her face daring any zombies to even try to hurt her or ronnie. she was not, however, expecting to hear a started yelp from inside the store. “ronnie?” sloane swallowed nervously, pushing the door open and stepping around some broken glass. she spotted ronnie backing up as a zombie followed her forward, arms outstretched, threatening to hurt her.

it happened very quickly. sloane saw ronnie back up to the edge of the window, losing her balance as her heels hit solid wall; she reached her arm out to try and stop herself before she fell, to no avail. sloane ran forward and plunged her scissors right into the zombie’s skull, pushing its body to the floor with a thud before whirling all of her attention on ronnie. blood was pouring down her arm and hand ---- as she fell, her arm had slid right across the broken glass from the storefront window. “that’s...a lot of blood,” sloane gulped, dropping her bag to the ground and searching for the first aid kit in there. blood, ironically, made sloane very squeamish. she had gotten used to zombie blood since it was kill or be killed, but seeing ronnie’s blood, so much of it pooling on the pavement, it made sloane very uneasy. but ronnie needed her right now, so sloane sucked it up and flipped open the aid kit. holding ronnie’s bloody, cut up arm in one gentle hand, sloane used the other to wipe away the blood. “i don’t think you need stitches --- i mean, even if you did ----- neither of us has a nursing degree -------- or any needles and thread, for that matter,” she spoke as she began layering gauze over the wounds. once they were cleaned and covered in fresh gauze, sloane taped it all up with medical tape. it wasn’t perfect, but it would do for now. it had to.