CLIW

My Dear Canilo

Let's add some freshly-single SPICE to this

My Dear Canilo

Carmen felt her lungs expel a large breath that she hadn’t known she’d been holding as the woman stopped and called back to her: “Alright, girl.”. She didn’t want to admit to anyone, even to herself, how desperate she was: she was almost out of glass with which to make new spears or arrows, and although she wasn’t terribly far from the remains of a neighborhood littered with the stuff, she simply didn’t like those places. For one thing, she got turned around and lost easily, and more important, they really just creeped her out.

Although she hadn’t gone anywhere remotely near relaxing, the threats over the dog sent her straight into full alert again. Bristling with anger mixed with fear but quite unable to inform Fren that she could go fuck herself, Carmen shouted, “Deal!” and whistled for Chester. The medium-sized canine skidded to a stop himself, thankfully a somewhat-safe distance from the potential threat. Then, reluctantly, he shook his head and trotted back to her with his curly tail sticking above him.

Carmen wasted no time in taking out her backpack. Out came the rabbit bones, which she’d tied into a neat bundle. A very old fork and a hefty bundle of pine needles soon followed. She looked toward Fren. It wasn’t much. As an afterthought, she pulled out one of her arrows and laid it out with the other items. Hopefully it would be enough. She reached out and tensely gave Chester a scratch behind the ear.

---

Idly, Adrian sipped from a jar of very strong wine. It was made with...prickly pears, or something like that. It burned pleasantly and gave him a nice buzz on its way down, and he nodded approvingly at its taste. Wasn’t the best booze he’d had, but it certainly wasn’t the worst either. Unfortunately, he wouldn’t be able to get drunk on it. Not yet, at least. He was only having a taste while he waited for a delivery.

His guy was late, as usual. And as usual, it pissed him right off. With a scowl he took a hefty gulp of the wine, swirled the remainder of the jar’s contents, and set it down. It was time, he decided, to go see what was up with this trade. Just as he got up though, he heard someone shout his name, followed by one of the most horrifying shrieks he'd ever had the displeasure of hearing. Nearly made him jump out of his own skin. That wasn’t his delivery.

He grabbed his wrench out from under the rickety chair he’d been sitting in and got to his feet. In a couple long strides he was at the door and flinging it open with vicious force. Being slightly drunk, he didn’t expect throwing the wrench at this Mile-High dude to work. Incredibly, he had a lucky throw. Oh, yes, very lucky. He hit the bastard right straight in the side of the head and then ran outside.

“You were supposed to deliver my order and get the hell out of here,” Adrian snarled. As much as the wrench must have hurt, it had by no means knocked the man out. He was, however, able to wrestle the rifle out of his grip. (It was a nice rifle. Maybe he could sell it.)

He turned his face to the younger man––almost a boy compared to himself––and practically barked the command, “Get inside. I’ll deal with him. He’s a...a business partner.” Naturally, he wanted to ask what on Earth that shrieking thing was, and he also wanted to call the dude by his name. He knew he’d talked to him a couple times before, but it was with only a little guilt that he realized he couldn’t remember his name. Devin? Damien? Douglas? Whatever. There wasn’t time for that right now.

Just One Bite II

She was following, although she sensed at the moment that neither of them were, in fact, ready to go. Of course, they had no choice in the matter. She knew that and so did he. It was leave, or die.

It was going to be a long walk.

Mattie could already see the undead, shambling and meandering in the distance. If they caught their scents, or heard them––however the bastards caught wind of living presence–– it would be just another mess. She took a deep, quiet breath and focused on the path ahead of them. If they were going to do this, it would be one step at a time.

My Dear Canilo

Like most mornings, this one was early for Carmen, as it was for the majority of Buzzards. She’d risen before dawn, tossed her last piece of rabbit meat to Chester (poor thing had been awake and hungry for hours!), munched on a dry bit of yucca root, and swiftly dismantled her camp. She had a routine: first, she’d pack up the deer hides she’d slept in. Then, she’d cover up whatever hole she’d used as a latrine. Finally she would stamp out her fire and scatter the ashes before she set out. It was the same order each time she broke camp.

That had been the start of her day. Now, three or four hours later, she was walking at a brisk, steady pace along the edge of a Boar camp. She knew who it was, and she knew what they did, but she’d passed by this place before. She knew to be careful… or, she thought she did.

Chester nudged her calf with a low growl, and Carmen turned around to see a woman clutching a sack. As soon as she gave her attention, the stranger started to blubber on about the Boars, how she was just a slave, warning her to be careful… blah, blah, blah. She knew all of this. Just as she was turning to leave, however, she felt two wooden shafts sliding from her belt. Her spears! The ones she’d worked damn hard to make!

“Hey!” She shouted indignantly and whipped around. She started to pursue the woman, toward the Boar camp. A terrible, terrible idea. She slid to a stop and panted angrily; she was torn between outrage and fear. Chester was running ahead, baying with fury at the thief. She inwardly begged for him to stop; the last god-damned thing she needed right now was a bunch of pigs pursuing her. Breathless, she whistled for Chester and he stopped reluctantly with his tail wagging stiffly.

Maybe reason would work? Carmen shouted to the woman even as she got farther away. “Give one back! I’ll trade for it!” She knew she had nothing to trade. Well, maybe she did. A few rabbit bones. A skillful hand could turn those into shanks, and a slave of the Boars might find those handy for escape. “You can keep the other!” At this point, she wasn’t hopeful, though– and her legs were itching to run from this Boar settlement. It was simply unsafe.

My Dear Canilo

I'll start working on my IC post right after I get somethin' taken care of. Probably won't have it up tonight though.

My Dear Canilo

@Overlord24, you're accepted, but it'd be great if you could spruce up the personality and history.

My Dear Canilo

-Basics-
Name: Adrian Reeves

Age: 28

Gender: Male

-Survival-
Faction: Diesel

Gear/weapons: Wrench (for bludgeoning and fixing––very efficient!), canteen, hunting knife, some dried-out food.

Skills: Mechanic (major [obviously]), driving, traps, selling

Powers: Strong bones, mild regeneration

-Appearance-

Source: aitsena.deviantart.com

-Other-
Personality: Overconfident and entitled partially because he’s sheltered and in a rich faction. Can make hilariously stupid and reckless decisions (good thing he has regeneration). He resents the Bears and the Boars, doesn’t care about the Saints, and finds the Mile-High Club very amusing and fun to mess with. Kind of a joker. A bit of an alcoholic.

History: Diesel born and bred: grew up somewhat entitled, and that ended up staying with him. Has been working on car parts from a very young age, as one would expect, and always loved it. In fact, since he was a kid, he's been tricking out rides to an impressive extent (at least, it impresses himself).
At fifteen, thanks to the recruitment of a few daring (painfully stupid) friends, he started trading with the Mile-High Club, ferrying “the goods” from Mile-High camps to Diesel HQ. He’s been doing this ever since, although his role has evolved from simple delivery boy to getaway vehicle driver and bootlegger.
Throughout his twenties he has antagonized and bullied Mile-High settlements, accidentally set a druggie on fire, pretended to be one of them by getting thoroughly high, driven a load of chems back to Diesel headquarters while drunk, and gotten laid with someone from Mile-High whose sex and gender he couldn't tell.

Etc: Found out about his strong bones and regeneration by falling off of a unicycle at the top of a hill covered in cacti.

My Dear Canilo

Faction ideas are also welcome!

My Dear Canilo

@Evangaline Absolutely!