#outlasted.start

𝙾𝙿𝙴𝙽    𝚂𝚃𝙰𝚁𝚃𝙴𝚁    …    ꒰    𝗃𝗎𝗌𝗍   𝗂𝗇𝗌𝗂𝖽𝖾   𝗍𝗁𝖾   𝗉𝖾𝗋𝗂𝗆𝖾𝗍𝖾𝗋   𝗈𝖿   𝗌𝖺𝗂𝗇𝗍   𝗆𝖺𝗋𝗅𝗈𝗐𝖾   𝗆𝖾𝖽𝗂𝖼𝖺𝗅   𝖼𝖾𝗇𝗍𝖾𝗋,    𝖺𝗇   𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗋   𝖻𝖾𝖿𝗈𝗋𝖾   𝗌𝗎𝗇𝗌𝖾𝗍.   ꒱ 

                  𝙼𝙰𝙶𝙶𝙸𝙴   𝙱𝙻𝙸𝙽𝙺𝚂   𝙷𝙰𝚁𝙳,   trying   to   clear   the   exhaustion   that   weighs   heavy   on   her   eyelids.   this   had   become   routine   —   with   daily   tasks   wrapped   up   and   the   evening   meal   not   quite   ready,   she   finds   herself   outside.   sometimes,   if   she   was   feeling   creative   enough   that   day,   she   could   pretend   she   was   free:   surrounded   by   flowers   on   a   mountain   range,   listening   to   the   roar   of   the   pacific   ocean   as   it   sent   mighty   waves   crashing   against   the   shore,   feeling   the   warmth   of   a   loved   one's   touch.   these   only   existed   in   memories   now,   and   on   days   like   today   her   imagination   isn't   quite   powerful   enough,   spirits   not   quite   high   enough   to   muster   the   effort   pretending   would   require.   she'd   spent   the   night   before   tossing   and   turning,   halfway   between   nightmarish   slumber   and   even   more   nightmarish   consciousness.   at   the   very   least,   maggie   remains   grateful   for   the   evening   breeze,   the   warmth   of   sun   of   skin   as   it   begins   its   descent   over   the   mountain   ranges.   the   military   personnel   usually   leave   her   alone,   both   empathetic   and   otherwise   occupied.   can   tell   that   she's   lost   in   thought,   unreachable.   but   that   doesn't   mean   her   fellow   survivors   do   the   same   …   and   sure   enough,   maggie   can   feel   a   community   member's presence nearby.                      “   𝙸𝙵   𝚈𝙾𝚄   𝙲𝙾𝚄𝙻𝙳   be   anywhere   right   now,   where   would   you   want to be   ?   ”   she   asks   them,   not   bothering   to   tear   her   gaze   from   their   nightly   scan   of   the   surrounding   streets.   “   i   always   thought   there   would   be   more   time   to   travel,   to   see   the   world.   nope   !   now   i'm   stuck   daydreaming   about   it.   forever,   probably.   tell   me   about   somewhere   else   —   anywhere   but   here.   i   need   new   material.   ”

daena  makes  her  way  cautiously  through  some  overgrown  shrubbery,  knife  gripped  tightly  in  her  hand.  she  has  yet  to  get  her  hands  on  a  gun…  though  even  then,  she  doesn't  exactly  know  how  to  use  one.  she  knows  there's  stuff  like  recoil  to  watch  out  for,  but  it'd  be  a  hell  of  a  lot  safer  to  have  a  gun  on  her  rather  than  just  a  knife.  it's  a  big  hunting  knife  but  still,  you  gotta  get  close  in  order  to  use  it.

she  spots  a  lone  infected  making  their  way  through  the  empty  street,  making  that  awful  noise  that  infected  make.  it  makes  her  stomach  turn,  even  still.

“c'mon…  get  outta  here  already…”  she  mumbles  under  her  breath.  still  not  confident  enough  to  just  jump  and  take  the  kill,  she  waits.

The past two months had worn Nathan down in ways he hadn't expected. Days blurred together beneath the constant hum of generators and fluorescent lights, each one ending exactly where it began. Inside Saint Marlowe. He'd asked more than once to join the scavenging teams, always receiving the same answer. Not yet. He couldn't entirely blame the soldiers. He caught the hesitant glances they exchanged before politely turning him away. He understood some. Nathan looked like he'd snap in a strong breeze, and he knew his nervous habit of wringing his hands probably didn't inspire much confidence either. They weren't trying to be cruel. If anything, they were trying to keep him alive. Still, it was hard not to feel like another patient trapped inside the hospital.

Saint Marlowe had its own rhythm now, one Nathan couldn't seem to escape. Boots echoed down hallways at all hours. Radios crackled somewhere in the distance. Sometimes, when the building settled for the night, something else echoed through the sealed floors the military insisted everyone avoid. He'd gone looking more than once despite the warnings, curiosity always getting the better of him, though he'd never ventured far enough to satisfy it. Eventually, he'd accepted that the best thing he could do was what he'd always done best... make himself useful. The children's playroom had slowly transformed into a makeshift library. The shelves filled with every anything he could rescue from abandoned waiting rooms and offices. It wasn't much compared to the library he'd left behind, but people came anyway. Sometimes for a book. Sometimes just for a quiet place to sit and pretend the world still made sense.

He was shelving another stack of books abandoned by a group of children who had been far more interested in playing tag than reading when someone appeared in the doorway. Nathan glanced up, offering the same warm smile he always tried to wear, even when it felt a little borrowed. "H-Hi," he greeted. "Looking for something to read?" His eyes drifted toward the shelves before a sheepish smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. "My selection's... honestly limited. Turns out hospitals stock an alarming number of romance novels." A quiet laugh escaped him as he rubbed the back of his neck. "Not that I'm judging. Desperate times and all."

open: all

Alex had been walking for days. He wasn't exactly sure how long it had been, but all he knew was that he was tired and he just wanted to find a place to lay his head that wasn't sounded by groaning walkers. Of course, he could've easily thinned the surrounding herd but for what point? He knew he was going to be dead soon. Everyone was. The sun starting setting and Alex couldn't help but to find a decent enough size log to sit on, just for a moment. Lost in thought, his mind flashed back to Caleb, to how he left him. Alone. Being so deep in thought he didn't even see anyone approaching. Was Alex about to meet the same fate as Caleb? He had no idea. And honestly..

He would deserve it.

🛠  »  STATUS  …  CLOSED (4/4) 🛠  »  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.

✟  »  STATUS  …  CLOSED (4/4) ✟  »  LOCATION  …  SAINT MARLOWE (THE OUTPATIENT WAITING ROOM)

each member of the community was expected to visit the outpatient waiting room at least twice a day. once in the morning to pick up any new assignments for the day and once in the evening to stay up to date with any new information or changes taking place. drew was one of those who frequented the space more often than most, even when they had memorized inventory numbers, names, and who was supposed to be assigned to what task. there was always this lingering sense of urgency, like things could go wrong at any minute and they had to be there before it happened. the names of the lost ones kept adding up on the whiteboard, only contributing to the inner dread and helplessness silently shared by the entire community. it certainly did not help to spend every free waking moment staring at the board, wishing for the increasing list of names of those who did not return to disappear. the sound of a door's creaking hinges announced the entrance of another.  ❝ the list keeps increasing each day. at this rate we'll soon be losing more than we're receiving. ❞  drew observed out loud while staring ahead at the whiteboard.

where: cedar grove clubhouse

sofi crouched by a cracked mirror, warming up the lead of a colored pencil with a lighter (the military hadn't found a use for the untouched pack of colored pencils she'd stolen as as they were being carried out of what must have been a child's bedroom. sofi couldn't bear to think of who they must have belonged to, what pictures the owner might have drawn with them if they'd had the time.) she felt the barest singe of heat as she carefully drew a simulacrum of eyeliner on her lash line. "there's no need to die ugly," she quipped, noticing the onlooker at the edge of the mirror. anything to feel human again. "you want?"

he  had  never  been  much  of  a  gardener  before  the  outbreak,  he  left  that  kind  of  stuff  to  his  wife.  they  didn't  have  a  whole  lot  of  land  and  it  wasn't  the  most  fertile  where  they  were,  but  she  grew  whatever  she  could  with  what  space  they  did  have.  she  had  always  been  so  proud  of  herself,  growing  a  good  amount  of  their  own  food.  it  had  been  a  passion  project  she  came  up  with  shortly  after  the  birth  of  their  daughter.

but  in  this  post-outbreak  life,  he  tried  to  apply  what  she  had  taught  him  to  this  new  community  he  was  in.  it  was  one  of  the  ways  to  help  get  his  mind  off  the  fact  that  he  had  no  idea  what  her  or  their  daughter's  fate  was. 

he's  crouched  over  a  sprouting  corn  plant,  trying  to  make  sure  the  space  was  appropriate  for  it  so  that  it  would  flourish.  if  they're  going  to  survive,  making  sure  they  have  a  good  food  supply  is  part  of  that.  he  can  hear  footsteps  approaching  the  garden  space,  and  he  looks  up,  having  to  squint  as  the  sun  is  beaming  right  into  his  eyes.  “come  to  help?”  he  asks,  though  his  tone  is  pretty  flat.