This is a curse that can't be stopped

[strangelic]

WHO: OPEN MINGLE
WHERE: The Warehouse, The City, The Forest
WHEN: However long the rain falls and the siege lasts.
WARNINGS: Undead, violence, gore, murder. Note in comments anything else and I'll add.
SUMMARY: With sloppy zombies and cannibals running the show out in the city, everyone is feeling a little cooped up back at the warehouse. But as much rainwater as they have to drink, people still need to eat

The Warehouse

After a day or two, the perimeter had been secured far enough back to light a fire out of sight of the top windows of the warehouse, so that everyone could keep warm, even when the rain was pouring outside. There was plenty of water, consequently, to drink, but food and dry firewood was limited, both difficult to get back to the warehouse without coming upon one predator or another outside. The longer the siege went on - and that was exactly what it was - and the longer the rain poured, the more miserable their confinement was. Food came in the form of meat, mostly, and the occasional tropical fruit found on the forest floor, with no way to go out into the forest to scavenge for berries or nuts. Even hunting was risky, with the forest alive the way it was. At night, when the fire was lit, it was the only place to get warm. There were blankets, enough barely not to have to share, and conversation murmured around the fire from those who stayed close to it, even if some of those trapped there were more inclined to mope in their own silence. Visitors, of course, were more than welcome--unless they were the maneating kind, and perhaps one night, with a crash, some uninvited guests might slip through the cracks, and come upon the survivors in their sleep.

The City

It was enough to try and survive. Closing up the sewer entrances was crucial, of course, in order to keep those things still down there confined, but driving back the intruders was work that needed organizing, needed strong hands together, and no small effort. Trips out into the city were more dangerous that trips into the forest, but they were essential too, to reconnaissance how to take back the city - if at all - and then to go out and do it. Bringing together a team to do so meant organizing them, in the warehouse, around the campfire. Then it would be time to press out into the city itself. Who is this brave leader? Who fights beside them? Or shall we hide away until we starve? Perhaps, though, someone just needs rescuing, someone who's hid away elsewhere in the city, or just arrived, and needs a little help getting somewhere safe. Maybe their run just went a little bit...wrong.

The Forest

Food was essential to survival, and wood, too, was running low. Of course all the trees in the forest were just as damp, not to mention enormous burdens to sneak back in past the city walls to the warehouse. Trips out into the trees were risky, but they had to be made by the ambitious and the strong, or the brave and the foolish. The rain still poured down, of course, obliterating tracks, making it hard to move, or to pick out landmarks, the luscious undergrowth dulled to a thick, monotonous gray-green, soaking anyone not already wet through the moment they brushed against it. The animals cowered too, the rainfall making it impossible to hear when predators were creeping up on them, and the same applied to the zombies, stirred to life by all the commotion, hunting the hunters. Perhaps it's just a case of one wanderer coming upon another, unplanned, or is there purpose in this woodland meeting?

Comments

Castiel - open

[strangelic]

The Warehouse

1. Daryl had elected Castiel as their group's healer, and while he was reticent to do the job, it wasn't like there was anyone else on hand who could do more than stitch a wound, even if they had the right tools on hand. That moment, he became their doctor, for everything from bumps and cuts to broken bones, sepsis, concussion.

But coming to him to be healed wasn't a simple case of wham, bam, thank you ma'am. Nervous, Castiel would make conversation, drumming his fingertips awkwardly.

"How did you do this to yourself?"


2. Sitting at the campfire at night, Castiel simply stared into the flames, watching them rise and fall and flicker. It was like a dance, a language of life burning away, and it was easier to occupy his time thinking about the summer days that it had seen as a tree than on the pounding of the rain on the windows, and the flesh eating creatures in the city beyond the walls.

But the fire was shared, and so were the blankets. Castiel didn't need one, so he didn't wear one of his own, no matter how long he sat by the fire as though he needed the warmth. He would listen to the conversation, the planning, and any songs - if any - that people sang to lift their spirits, but part of him still felt low. Part of him still believed that most of the people sitting around the fire would die, soon enough.

It was melancholy, and his expression made his feelings more than obvious, even if he didn't necessarily voice them.


Warehouse/City/Forest

Wildcard! Recon into the city, or running into people in the forest could work out.

[peacekeep]

"People get hurt all the time where I'm from," she softly explained, looking down and away from him. She had come to find him to thank him for his help when she first arrived, now that things were going better for her and she was getting settled in. She hadn't quite managed to get out the gratitude before the matter of her face was brought up, and it was with a self-conscious touch to the stitches on her cheek that she tried answering.

"I slipped and fell on the pod I arrived here in. That's how I hurt my chin." She knew that, at least. She was curious about something, though. "How are you gonna be able to make any of it better? It's just got to heal on it's own, with time."

[strangelic]

Castiel had settled right down into the warehouse. It was pouring down still beyond the windows, sleet gray that fell in long, ugly sheets. He was sat on the floor, cross legged, and he looked up at her as she settled. He'd ignored her cuts before, more or less, but now they were the focus of his attention, given his new role.

"Accidents happen," he agreed, softly.

"I..." He considered how to approach answering the question. "I'm a faith healer." It was true, that was a precise and accurate description of what he was. "I can heal simply by laying my hands on you. It's a gift."

[peacekeep]

"A gift," she repeated, giving him a confused look. She had heard stories from her daddy and other people at church about people who were healed by God and their faith, but hadn't ever actually experienced someone claiming it firsthand.

"So we're gonna pray until things heal themselves? Is that how it works?" She sounded almost childish in her quiet fascination with the matter, but how jaded her time with Dawn had made her leaked through and she couldn't keep some doubt out of her tone.

She knew he said he would put his hands on her and she'd be healed, but it couldn't be that simple, could it?

[borntorebel]

After coming to the city with Han and Daryl and then having to flee to the warehouse, Leia's patience with all things associated with the ceaseless rain and hail was running a little thin. But, since she was new, she needed to keep her wits about her, and talking to others was the best distraction she could think of.

She noticed the strange many just sitting by the fire, staring into the flames and giving off a distinct air of sadness. The look on his face just sold the whole "sad sack" theme he had going on.

"I can think of a million other things we could be trying to do than sitting around, but sometimes that's all you can do." She takes up a seat next to him and wraps her arms around her knees. "Is there something on your mind you'd like to talk about?"

[strangelic]

Castiel didn't startle too much when she joined him, but there was just a touch of nervousness there. Even surrounded by people, the nervousness from Purgatory still hung on him. The Earth as it was now, overrun by creatures, was much like the place he'd come from, and survival depended on vigilance.

But they were safe here, he had to keep reminding himself of that, and the people here didn't want to kill any of the other survivors, least of all him. Harmless, quiet angel, hardly a threat to anyone.

"You're the woman from before. Han called you Leia--correct?"

[borntorebel]

Leia still doesn't know everyone's stories, but she's seen enough warriors to recognize the signs of battle shock. The other leaders had always said she had a way with the men who needed more help, but she'd only written that off as being able to understand them better. Perhaps it was something to do with her latent Force powers, not that she's too keen on actually trying to do anything with them at a time like this. No, instead now, she has an obligation to try and keep this man's spirits up as much as anyone else does.

She tries to give him a gentle smile at his question.

"Yes, I am. Leia Organa...Solo, at your service. I fear that I didn't catch your name at the time."

2!

[kickingand]

Dean, in an odd, desperate attempt to keep busy, searched for wood. If they planned on keeping the fire stable they were going to need far more of it than anyone likely anticipated and far too much of it was soaked to the core. And so Dean did what he could to keep moving, wandering, not stopping long enough to think at any particular moment and instead listening into the depths of the forest until he returned. But really, the whole thing was just an excuse to search for anything. To walk, almost aimlessly, hoping that he might stumble upon something. Anything at all that could mean something. It wouldn't matter at this point, but he'd take what he could get.

It also meant a lot of running. And making use of Castiel's blade, until he was splattered in a fine veneer of filth.

Making his way back to the warehouse, Dean finally resolved to keeping still. He wasn't going to crack under the weight of his desperate resilience, but he hadn't seen Cas in hours and, well, he was used to keeping him in his line of sight. And so Dean returned, ever the non-triumphant hunter, dropping down at Cas' side and outright ignoring just how unkempt he looked, but not even remotely bypassing how utterly dejected Cas looked. He was lost in the flames and finally Dean leaned forward, attention turned onto the angel, trying to get him to give him his eyes.

[strangelic]

It was always hard when they were apart for long periods of time. Castiel had grown use to Dean's constant company, his vigilance, and while he understood that they had a great deal to accomplish on their own backs, it was hard sometimes, not to see Dean for hours. Who watched his back, when Dean wasn't there? And who would watch Dean's? Not that he worried or anything. Dean survived apocalypses, survived Purgatory, and Castiel wasn't worried for him. He always found a way to make it through.

But he felt a surge of relief when Dean was back in his sight, none the less, even if he didn't voice it, or even glance toward him. It was only when Dean tried to get his attention that he stirred, glanced up at him.

"You look awful."

[kickingand]

"And you look like you're thinking too damn hard."

Dean lifted his eyebrows insistently, pushing his opinion with the hopes of glossing over Castiel's own. He didn't want to have to respond to how he looked when it didn't really matter all that much. He'd been out in the muck; so what. Life enjoyed kicking him in the ass and sometimes he actually looked it. Not like there were mirrors around save for the reflection in other people's eyes but if there was one person who could get away with commenting, it would be Cas.

Cas, who always had all the right in the world to poke at him. Cas, who had earned the privilege to provide commentary, despite Dean's insistence to backslide into his more primitive brain at any given opportunity. There were reasons he needed to stay closer to Cas: the angel made it easier to hold onto the things he needed to be, because Cas held on too.

"Not that i've got a cure for that."

Daryl - Open

[dirtyredneck]

The Warehouse
With everyone cooped up as they were, Daryl was splitting his duties between maintaining a headcount on a near daily basis (too many had disappeared without a trace within the last week that he was getting paranoid) and heading out to do a minimum amount of hunting just to keep meat on the table. He wasn't getting much sleep and his temper was suffering for it. But he also wasn't about to put those duties on anyone else. He was the best equipped to handle the responsibilities he'd given himself.

But there were other things to be taken care of. Making the wood spikes that protected the perimeter, expanding the perimeter into the buildings nearby so they had more space to spread out without the light of a fire being easily seen. Blocking off streets, checking the walls for cracks, making a 'maze' of spike traps for anyone coming in - living or dead - to get through.

Anyone Daryl passes by, he stops long enough to talk to, to check on, "You doing okay?" Try to ignore the dark circles under his eyes and the exhaustion in his voice.

The City
They needed dry wood and the forest was difficult to make it out to. A run into the city, to an old hardware store, had a better shot of being successful. And even if the place didn't have any bundles of wood, it should still have plenty of metal and random objects they could use for securing the warehouse further. Chains, clamps, old tools. Daryl had noted it's location when he got caught by the runners while he was trapped up on the roof near the fountain plaza. Now, he was leading a small team back to it, empty backpacks ready to be filled.

Daryl leaned around a corner and assessed the intersection ahead of them. Looking back at those following, he jerked his head to indicate one of them should run ahead to the nearest derelict car and take point while the rest made a break for the storefront.

Meeting with Maggie (dated 3.19)
After Glenn and Maggie made it back into the city, Daryl waited for them to get dry. For Glenn to head off and take care of the duties he'd chosen for himself. Maggie would join him soon enough, probably. But before that, Daryl needed to have a chat.

He walked up to her, side of his mouth lifting in a half-smile, "You look like you could use a change of clothes." Not that it would help, though, with the rain coming down as hard as it was.

[3.19 Meeting]

[dirtyfarmgirl]

Seeing Daryl smile like that, it gave Maggie hope. Hope that they could make it through this crazy situation. Glenn had filled her in on some things while they'd made their way to the city, enough that she understood the different threats posed here, but if Daryl was able to smile like there, then things weren't near as bad they could be.

His observation had her giving him a smile in return. "At least it's only water," she commented, thinking back to all the times they'd ended up covered in blood from the dead. They'd run into a few walkers on the way in, but anything that had gotten on her had been washed away. "I'll dry out eventually."

[dirtyredneck]

"We got extra clothes," he offered, turning and gesturing toward the stairs up to the second floor. "Off the main sleeping area. Did a run early on. Grabbed a lot for some women that didn't have much. Anything in the pile is free reign."

As much as they'd been settling in, they hadn't quite gotten to the point of really dividing clothes or living spaces. Too much had gone on and there weren't a lot of them. Daryl had lived in close quarters with people since the farm fell and hadn't put any effort into trying to provide the kind of division most of the others were probably used to. He knew Maggie wouldn't care, same as Glenn hadn't. It was practically the default for them. Was just one less thing to explain because she already knew and understood.

When he turned back to her, he crossed his arms and chewed at a thumb, "Glenn tell you about the people here yet?"

[dirtyfarmgirl]

She nodded at the information about the clothes, glad to hear that she had another option besides staying in soaked through things. It was a lot more than they'd had between the prison and Alexandria, that was for sure. And while Maggie was certainly going to be missing the comforts of the house she and Glenn had shared with some of the others, the warehouse wasn't bad - better than living in the back of a car or camping on the side of the road and having to be on constant lookout for walkers or the living who meant them harm. Really, there was something to be said for being physically close to other people; it helped remind you that you weren't in it alone.

She frowned a little, not at his question but at the way he was standing. There was more to that question than just what he'd said. "A little," she answered, almost cautious in her choice of words. "We didn't have time to get into the specifics, but he mentioned a few names. And... he told me about the little girl who went missing." Glenn hadn't needed to say more than the two had been close for Maggie to understand what it must have done to Daryl.

The Warehouse

[borntorebel]

Being a horrible overworker, Leia can recognize the signs in someone else. Especially after having Winter point it out time and time again once Coruscant had been taken back from the Imperial Remnants led by Isard. And though this is hardly what she imagined she'd be doing so soon after being married, it's something she can do and understand.

She knows that she owes much to Daryl. He'd helped her when she first arrived and seemed to be the de facto leader of this apparently ragtag group of misfits. In a way, they all remind her of the Rebellion on Yavin 4—overworked, tired and desperate for something good to happen.

She is using her rare knife to help make sharpened pikes for the perimeter when he approaches. She spares him a look before nodding and returning to the work that her Ewok friends had shown her back on Endor's moon. "Better than you, it looks like." She finishes the stick and puts in the small pile next to her. "When was the last time you slept more than thirty minutes together?"

The Warehouse

[dirtyredneck]

Not being good at opening up to new people or being perceived as weak in some manner, Daryl took the words and the question as a challenge. He straightened his shoulders and frowned at her, "I'm fine. Was asking about you."

[borntorebel]

How fortunate for him that she's had plenty of experience with people who are touchy and riled up, herself included from time to time. She looks up at him with a brief smile, not at all worried about his obvious contrariness.

"I've been through...not worse, but similar. I imagine it won't be the last time either." The longer she looks at him, the more tired she feels, even though she's gotten four hours of sleep last time she rested. "We've got some down time. I can walk the perimeter if you want to grab some sleep."

padme ; ota

[officio]

the warehouse;

There was so much to do. Padmé found her days full, spread thin between going around and making sure everyone was more or less alright, pouring over the notes she'd made, in the half-broken notebook she'd taken from the City when it had still been theirs. She could be found drawing a map of the city, or marking down the names of those who'd left to hunt, to make sure they knew exactly how many should be coming back... there were marked lines next to other names, a column for those who had disappeared without so much as a trace.

Come nightfall, she was there to greet those coming back, or go round the campfire, offering food portions or those few blankets to those who seemed most needing.

"Here. It might help a little."

the city;

She'd insisted, of course. She wasn't about to be left to do nothing, not when she'd successfully infiltrated her own palace years and years ago, and done more than enough reconnaissance to know how to be quiet and swift.

Nearly two hours had passed, past the time when they'd agreed to meet in the rendezvous point, before Padmé ran back, her delay explained by the heavy metal spikes that she's carrying, previously used to hold up a building structure before she decided to repurpose them for their use.

"I'm sorry for the delay," she breathed out, lowering her backpack on the ground.

warehouse

[dirtyredneck]

"I'm good," Daryl said, keeping his arms slung across his knees as he looked up at Padme. He wasn't close to the fire, but was within the circle of light it cast. He kept back far enough he could watch the group as a whole. A couple people were on watch, of course, so it wasn't all of them. But it was most of them. They looked so much like what he remembered all of them looking like after the farm and on the road to Alexandria.

He hated seeing his family like that. He hated not being able to do more for them.

"Give it to someone else."

[officio]

"Are you sure?" she couldn't help but ask, knowing how much Daryl did, every day. Going out hunting, to the city, leading teams. Checking up on everyone. Someone should be checking up on him, too.

"It won't do to work yourself to exhaustion, Daryl." But she didn't push it more, sitting down next to him instead.

[dirtyredneck]

Was every woman from the stars going to get on his case about getting enough sleep? Shit...

Daryl ducked his head before looking back at her from under the heavy fall of his bangs, shrugging lightly as he brought a thumb to his mouth, "Could say the same about you. How's those lists you been making going?"

He'd pretty much accepted her stepping up to do the inventorying. Including her own headcounts. He hadn't done much in the way of checking up with her on the numbers they had recently, though. Might as well take the time while they had it.

rosie; warehouse; ota

[hasitsthorns]

Sitting idle isn't Rose's style. To fight the feeling of entrapment and unease at the rain, she keeps herself as busy as possible. She's all smiles -- despite the gloom and doom hanging over seemingly everyone's head -- and humming little diddies to break to the silence. Everything seems pretty hunky dory with her. Act fine and everyone will think you're fine; it's the strategy that's worked for her so far. OF course, back home she wasn't around the same group of people consistently. They couldn't pick up on anything wrong if she wasn't around for very long. Here, though... It's a different story.

If any of the people in the warehouse talk it'd be easy to piece together what she's not saying. The woman isn't sleeping. Even if it isn't her watch, she ghosts around quietly or merely pretends to rest. She's isn't eating. She's refused most food offered to her but has been careful to turn down different people offering. Even if she accepts, the rations find their way to someone else somehow.

Last, but certainly not least, she's hiding a still very serious shoulder wound. Only one person really knows about it but it's obvious it causes her some discomfort despite her best efforts to hide as such. Small, yet brief, grimaces when too much pressure is put on it or she sits or lays down the wrong way. Yet, she's still carrying things she shouldn't, like firewood, and putting unnecessary strain on it. It'd been bandaged originally but she's neglected changing said bandaging because, well, they can't really afford the supplies right now. Other people need them more. Just like other people need rest and food more than she does. Her pain is nothing she can't push passed if it means helping everyone else; she isn't about to let this little scratch slow her down or be the reason she adds dead weight to the group.

She can't.

[dirtyredneck]

Daryl hadn't paid as much attention to Rose and her shoulder since dragging her back to the warehouse as he probably should have. But it'd been bandaged at that point and then Athena disappeared and Daryl got distracted by Beth and Maggie's arrival and somehow the majority of a month, nearly three weeks, had slipped by on him. So when he started doing the rounds, taking headcounts, he wasn't expecting to find Rose wincing as she bent down to move some of the supplies to a more central location.

He waited until she'd gotten the supplies put where they needed to before he strolled up to her and lightly backhanded her shoulder, "You stupid or something?"

[hasitsthorns]

There's a wince at the gentle swat -- a combination of the mild sting of it and surprise, more than anything -- before turning round to face Daryl. She hadn't necessarily been trying to hide it all from him, but she had been alright with the fact that he was too busy to notice. Her shoulder was fine. It was healing, however slowly, and would be good in... Well, she wasn't sure, but it was on its way. He ( or anyone else, for that matter ) didn't need to concern themselves with it.

"What do you mean?" So, yes, she is that stupid or something. Or at least feigning to be.

[dirtyredneck]

"Your shoulder," Daryl said, getting straight to the point. And then reached up to poke at her. Not in the still-healing wound, but next to it. "You ain't keeping it cleaned and dressed. All you're doing by doing that is making sure it'll take forever to get right. It's stupid."

Another poke, same place as before.