#wl:starters

the latest hunts had bored sonya out of her mind: fruitful in game, but not in walkers. she had taken no interest in killing deer or trying to fish--her real pleasure came from killing what was already dead. the few dead they had occasionally encountered were often too slow, anyway. their food rations weren’t too bad, and hopefully with adrian’s sprouting roots, they would be set for the rest of the winter.

the new england winter was a sudden surge of darkness that pooled by 4:30 on some days, a darkness that rode in on the coattails of an already brisk afternoon. luckily for those at camp, the snowfall had been scarce, if any, this winter, but with how smoothly things had been going since settling in, surely that would get shaken up within the next few days, judging by the the fluffy, stone-colored clouds that dared to circle overhead the campgrounds.

“hey–   catch anything in the rat traps?” she quipped as she ventured a little closer to the group, a half-eaten apple in her left hand.  Their men and women, they were capable– strong; they were good hunters, and Lancaster’s snares had been a fairly steady source of small game, but the weather had been harsh for days now, if not weeks, and the food sparse; everyone had been on edge, impatient, hoping for a better hunt today, what with the weather taking an unexpected (yet much wished for) turn for the better, if only for a few hours. Squinting softly against the glare of the sun now, she took another small bite of her fruit, and smiled a little, watching them unload the truck.

Benji twisted his wedding ring around his finger, the intricate and deliberate movement the only indicator that he wasn’t one of the dead as he stared off into space. The Scotsman found himself outside, feeling the frigid breeze on him, after a restless night in bed. He tossed and turned for what seemed like hours, only to fall asleep to dream of nightmarish events. When he woke up in a cold sweat, he decided on getting some fresh air. Maybe that would do him some good. He paced back and forth, only walking a few feet in each direction before heading the other way. The camp was eerily quiet, the way it always was at night. That’s why, as he kept playing with his ring, the noise he heard made him jump. It was probably nothing, it was... Benji looked down at his fingers to see that the ring he was holding between them was no longer there. It must’ve slipped through his fingers when he got scared. 

It’s her default again– melancholia. More often than not, she’s quiet, withdrawn and reserved. Today’s no different as she ghosts through the main common area and the kitchens, cleaning and working on some laundry, then busying herself with sorting through the pantry, saving what little she can from the half-rotten fruit the men had brought in from a quick run earlier that morning. Her day has hardly been what she’d hoped for. She’s been miserable, her mind once again plagued by that familiar aching— that longing for something long gone bearing down on her, making her chest feel all tight and swollen with all that buried grief that threatens to spill over.

cross-legged in front of her cabin, roxy took a deep breath in, centering herself spiritually. it was early morning, and it didn’t take a genius to figure it was cold out. her breaths--slow and even, deep and low--were ghostly in the cold outdoor air. her meditation time was deeply sacred to her. as the days became shorter and the nights much colder, it was important for her to spend as much time in the daylight as possible. roxy’s face pointed skyward, towards the rising sun, neck arched gracefully.