#tdowtask

In the days after the Horde had destroyed a large chunk of Sanctuary, Bobbi seemed to be working with a single minded ferver. A large part of her wanted to break down completely, to just give up on life the way Sam seemed to. They had put all this time and work into Sanctuary, and in the end…. It didn’t seem to matter at all. But one look at Faust and his brother, Puck, was enough of a reminder for Bobbi that no matter what happened, they needed to keep trying. The kids deserved that much.

The group that Rooney was with during the horde event was pretty much entirely killed off. Rooney did her best to keep them safe, but panicking amongst the chaos got the best of some during everything. The last few people she was with ended up being a single mother with her quite newborn infant. She also had a few younger children as well. The horde started to overtake them and the mother, knowing Rooney had a better chance of getting away with the baby, handed the baby over and told her to keep going.

The mother and the kids didn’t make it, but Rooney was able to make it with the baby. My thought back during the event was that Rooney (and Quincy by extension because at this point they’d met up with each other, though they were separated during the horde event) would take care of the baby, being that the mother had no other relatives and Rooney has a history in relation to raising kids.

Santi wasn’t yet in the Sanctuary when the Breach happened, Santi and their family weren’t even in the state yet. Their child was sick, and they were holed up in small town on the border of Colorado when the wall came down. They were picking their way slowly across the country, moving around roving gangs and trying to avoid as many settlements as possible. They didn’t trust any of them, and thought they would be able to protect each other and their child better than any group. 

When they reached the outskirts of Denver, they stayed four nights an empty gas station, debating on the pros and cons of going into such a big city. Santi didn’t want to, but their wife did, believing they would be able to find more supplies that they desperately needed. She pointed out their child now knew to be quiet, that they didn’t have to avoid the city like they did Las Vegas out of fear of their child’s cries being heard.

They decided it was best to avoid the center of the city and instead go along the suburbs and outer edges. It was there in one of the suburbs that they were separated by group that was chasing them. Santi tried to keep them close but despite all the effort Santi put into keeping them safe, they failed. Santi continued on in the direction they thought their wife had fled and found the Sanctuary. Santi observed them from a distance for some time, trying to judge if they were the people who had attacked their family but Santi couldn’t spot any familiar faces, so they supposed they were safe enough.

         Marley retreated into a former version of herself when the Horde hit Sanctuary —some part of her that she thought she’d lost within the comfort that the walls of this place had offered. It might have seemed strange, to find her solace in the chaos of death and destruction around her, but it was what she knew. It was what had become familiar to her since the outbreak; it was where she felt her mind and body could thrive. She fed upon the adrenaline that life’s challenges threw at her, and she found her spark most easily when the world was falling apart. 

         As spring came and the walls were slowly rebuilt —the farmers crops being planted, a strange sense of normalcy falling back upon them all— the unrest that Mars expected to feel... simply did not come. The house next to hers had burnt to the ground, and the rubble and ashes of it reminded her day by day that the thrill she craved could very well be just around the corner. 

They had survived the winter, but the spring wasn’t kind. The hoard had brought more problems than he knew how to solve, and despite making important sacrifices for the good of the group, Dorian still couldn’t wrap his head around why he was so bothered by the things he’d seen. The things he heard. It wasn’t the first time he had seen someone be ripped apart, whether it was by flesh eating monsters or bullets, it was all the same, but this time it was more personal. Not only had the infected destroyed their walls but it destroyed their peace of mind as well. Not to mention the fact that he had helped Rooney rescue an infant. This was something that hit too close to home for him. The baby was too painful a reminder of the life that had been snatched away from him. 

There was one key component that had kept Quincy alive to see one of his younger siblings again: endurance. His emotions packed away neatly, his actions succinct and one-tracked, there was no distracting from his goal. He wanted to find all of his siblings, dead, alive, or undead so badly that it bordered on obsessive. The past six months were spent trying to heal the rift between himself and Rooney, to little or no avail, even so he persisted. The rest of his time he helped where he could in Sanctuary, even going out for supplies, though it was partially self-serving, his goals of finding his other siblings taking precedence over all. 

task 001 — Please post a paragraph or two about what your character got up to after the Horde and during Spring

Against all odds, all logic, Charlene had had hope. She didn’t know where it came from. God knows she hadn’t been searching for the hazardous thing, but one day — somewhere amidst overproofed moonshine with Emmett and Bobbi, amidst adrenaline-packed scouting with Minerva — she felt it, warm and flickering, licking flames against her ribcage. The first time she felt it, her heart twisted. She was keeping watch at the Sanctuary walls with her silver-mawed dog, Hank, when the first slivers of sun crept into the morning sky. As she basked in the orange-blue sunrise bleeding like watercolors into the atmosphere, Charlene exhaled. She closed her eyes. 

But that was before. Before the undead infiltrated the walls she stood on and ate their way through her new home. In the span of, what? Hours? Days? Spilled blood ruptured her illusion of safetiness, and Charlene could only manage to run, to hide, to stab at unguarded underbellies, to survive in the ways she’d learned how. Eventually, the gunfire ceased. The groans that once emanated from rotted vocal chords were silenced, and chirping birds and cicadas filled the empty void of quiet. In the calm after the storm, while others reunited with friends and family, Charlene was numb. She clung to Hank’s broken body, limp in her arms, and rocked him back and forth. The smoking shell of House 103 filled her lungs as she sobbed.