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.

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.

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.

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.