#roartonstart

“Fuckin’ rotters.” Emily swore under her breath as she watched them exit the building. Some going into the arms of loved ones and others simply wandering into the town. They were dead and after all her fighting she wanted them to stay dead. Nobody seemed to understand her beef, some even thought her crazy, but she wanted those things back in the ground. She had fought for too long to see this shit happen.

It was a big day for a lot of people. Zane knew that a lot of the PDS sufferers were coming back. While, blessedly, he didn’t have anybody to take care of, he knew that those who did would need help. The HVF were still out in full force in Roarton and the small population meant everybody knew just about everybody. He sighed when Molly went running down the sidewalk ahead of him. She turned a corner and before he could do anything she was flying into a person’s back. “Molly! What did I say about runnin’ corners?” he scolded loudly, jogging to get to the two and make reparations. “I’m so sorry about her; boundless energy in that one.”

teegan was more than aware that this day, and the days going forth would not be easy; there was so much uncertainty, hatred, and an array of other negative emotions in regards to those like herself being reintroduced into the world. albeit, the stoic female thought she’d handle it better than this, but it seems that even in DEATH --- her short-temper followed her. at this point in the day, she’d snapped at three different people; one of which was literally because they LOOKED at her wrong. emotions were high, so upon finding a small, quaint coffee shop, the slender girl didn’t hesitate to duck inside and away from the bustling streets. contact-colored hues stared directly at her fingertips, touching against a coffee cup bought purely for the purpose of being a prop. ( it’s not like she could drink it ) a small crease seems to form between her brows, it somewhat STILL frustrated her that she couldn’t feel the heat radiating from the piping beverage. seemingly, she’d been so caught up in her own head; teegan completely missed out on what had been spoken toward her --- chin raising to eye them. “what did you say?”

he didn’t look up from his artbook, though his peripheral vision told him of a stranger sitting a mere few meters away. “YOU KNOW,” he began, not particularly stating WHO the topic was. “don’t you think PDS sufferers are kind of like that dandelion? it’s just in the wrong place. yet, somehow, it’s trying its best to fit in despite the external circumstances. it’s weird to think of it that way, wouldn’t you agree? i mean, it’s not like we wanted to become this way. like when we died our wish to some almighty God was that, ‘hey we want to be reborn as rabid zombies that people hate and will continue to hate even when we’re changing. doesn’t that just sound so mc’freaking grand?’ it’s not like i walked out of that grave just singing ‘HALLELUJAH’ in a grand oprah voice like i’m part of Phantom of the Opera -- though that would be amazing. i would always just sing. never talk. IN ANY CASE, i’m now living a life where i cannot enjoy the beautiful sensation that is hot cocoa and chocolate chip cookie dough ice-cream, and that just doesn’t sit well with me because we still get people who look at me as if i’m going to sink my teeth into them at any time. ---- which i won’t, i promise you.”