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05 July 2005 @ 11:06 pm
Smith clutched a bottle of henessy in his clawed grasp, swurving two feet down a two lane between an office park and an upper class strip mall. His leather boots, newly scavenged from a store in a mall outside of town, squeeked as he walked, and his bleary reptilian eyes repeatedly clicked their membranous second lid to rid his eyes of the blur brought on by drunkeness. But they couldn't clear it. He tripped over a stray limb and ended up laying in a heap halfway on the road and halfway over the curb, groaning as he tried to push himself up, unable to but not really concerned. He lay there, watching a squirrel scurry from a tree...wait, a squirrel?

Last time he saw a small animal that had survived, he got cursed. Now he was a little worried.
 
 
Current Mood: drunkdrunk
Current Music: Tom Waits - Tom Taubert's Blues
 
 
28 June 2005 @ 02:01 pm
After firing off a full clip of bullets, and re-filling the magazine, Drachire walked off towards a large billboard. It seemed as if it had once been filled with pictures of something, possibly even movies of some sort.

Drachire shrugged it off, and kept walking towards it, stepping over the small breaks and pieces of rubble in the streets. He thought back to when he was younger, and how the city looked. That was about the time that he became confused. He'd never seen the city before.... how was it that he had awakened here just today.

Drachire stopped walking, and leaned over onto a flipped over car. The large crumbling metal automobile shuttered at the weight Drachire placed on it. It wasnt like he was heavy at all, maybe 150 pounds at the most. And he only stood at 5'10''.

As Drachire tapped his head with the small black handgun, he tried to trace back his steps to getting into this large city. He thought back to his childhood, in a small suburb somewhere... possibly near the city. He thought about the school he went to... it was... eh, it didnt matter anyway.

He thought about the incident.

He thought about his parents innards being splashed against the wall.

He thought about the beast. It seemed human at first... maybe it was a traveling salesman that came to the door.... maybe a family friend... either way, his parents didnt have a problem with inviting him into their home.

Drachire remembered his mother asking if the beast would like something to drink, his dad sitting down next to it, and it's evil snicker towards himself. He knew something wasnt right. But his parents had no clue.

He thought about the second the skin began to rip off of the beasts body.
 
 
Current Mood: confusedconfused
Current Music: The crumbling hunk of metal drachire leaned on...
 
 
26 June 2005 @ 05:50 pm
Drachire awoke cold and lonely, the same as every other day. It had been five years since the death of his parents, and the apocalypse, but it still felt like it happened yesterday. As he stood up and stretched, he began to think back on the incident. He swore to himself that he would one day hunt down the beast that stole everything from him. It was only an hour after his family was slaughtered that the world itself began to crumble. Nothing else would have an impact on him like that day. He was only twelve or thirteen at the time, and it’s a surprise that he did not cease to exist.

Drachire looked at the dark, blackened-red, sky as he grabbed his tattered leather duster and put it on. He fastened to his leg, his holster for the glock m.19 he found a few weeks before hand. Still not fired, it smelled of new plastic and cold steel. He glanced down at the box of 50 bullets that he'd found along with the gun.

A slight smirk appeared on his face as he thought of the beasts he had encountered before he even had a weapon. He grimaced at the thought of his near death experiences. God, it was amazing that he did not fall to even one of the, once mythological, creatures he escaped from. The long road was ahead of him still. Now that he had his sidearm, he could increase his skill with firearms. He had already near-mastered his long katana, and was sure to do the same with his gun.

Drachire looked around for a sign of movement, anyone or anything that he could fire at. He released the clip of his glock, and began to load it up from the dusty box of shells. The sound of the projectiles entering the magazine pleased him, against the sound of the roaring sky. It was sad how he had become a heartless hunter, from the playful little boy he once was. His memories were all he had left. He placed the clip back into his gun, cocked it, and fired at a fiery sewage container.
 
 
Current Mood: coldcold
Current Music: the sound of the crumbling sky...
 
 
24 June 2005 @ 09:02 pm
Seraes carted a large backpack as he made his way north. His blue hair ruffled around the headphones he found, attached to a slightly damaged CD player and he looked to the distance, where buildings protruded from the horizon. His backpack had everything he'd scavenged from the ruins of this society. A journal, some books, a knife, axe head, and misc. trinkets he picked up.

As he entered the city, he looked around for a safe place to sleep. After all, who knew what sort of beasts waited here, and he didn't know much about wild animals, just the domestic ones he'd learned about in the book he found. As he walked he drug his feet a little, eventually tripped a little and falling forward, the CD player snapping free of the headphones and shattering against the ground. Seraes looked at it for a bit before sighing and standing up, leaving the headphones next to it. Until now, he hadn't even thought of other people, but seeing these buildings that people must have lived in, and a lot of them stirred up new feelings of lonliness, realising he had never actually met another human and now never may. At these thoughts he sat down against a building to think, his stomach growling a little.
 
 
Current Music: An old rock CD until my CD player broke
 
 
24 June 2005 @ 10:02 am
The truck wasn't in the best of shape. It hadn't been before the trip. But a long trip at high speeds had seemed to have taken quite a toll on the old truck. And now Ryan didn't have the tools to fix it. But as of current, his truck, or its state of well-being, was not his greatest concern. His greatest concern was his cowardice. He had come to Canada to find life. He had found it. There were living things in Toronto. Alive! He had seen them. But they had tried to kill each other. And he just couldn't take any more death. He thought he was okay with it now, but seeing how close death had come... he wasn't okay with it. So he drove away from the very thing he had come to find.

And now he was lost, hungry, and alone. All because of his cowardice. He thought that he could find them again. He had memorized the place he last saw life, he thought. But Toronto wasn't the straight, easily-understandable roads of Iowa. It was what was once a teeming metropolis. And he was lost. His truck continued slowly down the streets, Ryan peering out the windows, hoping for a glance of something that seemed remotely familiar, or maybe just life. There was some in this city, somewhere. He was bound to find it eventually.
 
 
 
19 June 2005 @ 08:49 pm
It was morning, and Smith stepped out into the cold city streets with a melancholy face and a fist clenched around his knife. He scanned every inch of the world with his reptilian eyes, noting the enhanced awareness they brought him, and the oddness of a lizard's vision. Colors were distorted, and so was the world, but his vision darted to every movement, every source of sound. A blessing in the curse, a gift before things were taken away.

He found an old clothes store, ruffled through it's contents, found himself a fancy fedora hat and slipped it on, before pulling a suit jacket over his t-shirt. Black was a good color for him. Next he found the slacks, pulling on a baggy pair that matched the coat, and even finding some new underwear and socks. As he walked out he snatched a tie and tied it, hanging it loosely about his neck like a black silk noose. And then he was back into the world.

An electronics store proved to have about anything his eclectic tastes could crave in terms of music, and he stuffed his backpack full of Waits, avant-pop, blues, indie, and hip hop before filling the rest with batteries. Two of those batteries went into a new walkman, which he listened to as he went off in search of food.

Grocery stores smelled rancid nowadays, but he pulled his coat over his nose and stepped inside. He would have to make quick work of collecting canned foods. Spam, corn, and green beans prooved to be the most plentiful and easy to find, and so he filled a cart full, adding some jugs of water to the mix. He had everything he would need for now, and so he breathed easy and relaxed as he pushed the cart down the street. Maybe he relaxed just a little too much.
 
 
Current Mood: relaxedrelaxed
Current Music: Kanye West - Jesus Walks
 
 
11 June 2005 @ 04:11 pm
It had been a long haul, but finally, Smith was pulling into Toronto, it's crumbling skyline ominous on the dark horizon. He turned down his blaring music so he didn't wake up anything that didn't want waking, and he slowly crept the eighteen wheeler into town. This place was spooky...even spookier than old, abandoned Reno. He found his Uncle's old neighborhood and parked at the entrance to it...of course he didn't find anyone alive. He found an empty house, well used by his cousins, aunt, and uncle...and when he stumbled into their livingroom eyes beaded with tears? Well, he dropped to his knees. There in the living room, clutching a large box marked 'Happy Xmas Smith', was the dusty skeleton of his youngest cousin, four year old James. Hope was truly dead today.

Smith didn't even bother opening his belated gift, leaving the house at that gruesome sight. He didn't even care now. As he hopped into the semi, he put the music on loud, tugged the horn, and began barreling through the city as fast as he could control the truck.

He would find whatever was still alive here. His cousin had lived and died without care...surely there was something else here. Whether it wanted to kill him or not.
 
 
Current Mood: Broken...
Current Music: Tom Waits - Knife Chase
 
 
09 June 2005 @ 08:17 pm
The sun was just setting over the rolling Iowa landscape as Ryan parked his truck in front of the farmhouse. The house had needed painting five years ago. It still needed it now. Ryan had never understood the point of painting, anyway. And now there was no one to see it, so it really had no point. Though, these past few days, he had been thinking about going into town and finding some white paint. Just as a memory to all those that weren't there. But things had changed. He was now heading to Toronto. And, as such was not a particularly short trip, he had taken a collection of gas cans and cleaned out one of the pumps at the Hospers' station. He could have used his usual source, one of the places in Sheldon or Sioux City, but he had been using those for the past five years, and some of the pumps were empty. But now he had enough gas to get him to Toronto, and a little more. That's all that mattered.

Ryan pushed the gas cans against the cab of his truck, making room in the bed for other supplies. It wasn't long before the bed was filled with jars of food, coolers with frozen (or at least mostly cool) vegetables, and the few personal belongings he thought important enough for the journey. That finished, he locked the farmhouse and the small building that housed the electric generator (a wonderful blessing). Though he was sure no one would come along and break in (as there was no one to do so), it was a force of habit. He wished there were some way he could take the generator along, as having electricity on occasion was a wonderful blessing. But the generator for the farm was too large to fit on any trailer his truck could pull, and he didn't want to chance an attempt at driving something larger than what he was used to. Besides, there would be quite a few possibilities for rigging up power in a city. Most wouldn't last long, but there were ways.

It was almost completely dark, with just a smudge of light on the western horizon as Ryan started out the driveway. His cruise control set on 87, a CD blasting, and windows rolled down, he made his way towards Toronto. If all went as planned, he would be there by early morning.
 
 
07 June 2005 @ 04:11 am
Please note that I made some new rules, lovelies. I apologize to interrupt your roleplaying, but I just wanted to make sure that everyone was aware of them. Please visit my site for the list.
By the way, I started another community. It's pretty nifty. I made it for us to discuss the roleplay out of character. Here's the link.
http://www.livejournal.com/community/pakolips2/
 
 
06 June 2005 @ 10:34 pm
Ryn closed the door to a fifth floor apartment, where she'd found a lighter and an extra blanket. She didn't mind taking things from the empty homes, but she couldn't bring herself to sleep in someone's apartment. Shoving the lighter in one pocket, and slinging the blanket over her shoulder, she made her way downstairs.
Passing an open janitor's closet, she blinked. She didn't remember that. "Finally cracking up, Ryn?" she muttered to herself. She pushed the thought out of her head until standing in the lobby, she suddenly heard footsteps.
"Oh god, I really am cracking up," she laughed nervously, then suddenly terrified raised her voice, "Who's there!?" she demanded, her voice shaking. She was about to mentally kick herself-clearly no one was there -no one else was alive- when a voice answered her: "I-I don't want to hurt you. Please. Please stand still and I will come down, okay? Please. I will come down really, really slowly. Okay. I'm coming. Please stay there."
And then there was someone coming down the stairs. Ryn stared in shock for a moment, then sat down on the lobby couch hard. Looking at the other person, she could say only: "Please tell me I'm not crazy."