Gelatinous Cube

War Never Changes

"I can take second. I don't sleep much anyway," Quinn offered. Broken sleep was just something he'd grown accustomed to over years of it happening. The last time he'd slept deeply was through the medicinal aid of the merchants who had saved his life. Ever since then it had been nightmares, or more recently just plain alertness. He could only really snatch a bit of sleep when he grew sufficiently exhausted, and even then it was restless.
It struck him as odd, really. If there was any way he'd prefer to die it would be while he was sleeping. The closest to a peaceful death any one could hope for. Failing that, anything quick would do.
He shook himself from those dark thoughts, caught off guard by them, "I don't mind taking a double shift. She'll need to get a decent rest to help her leg heal," Quinn said, referring to Charlotte.

♡Creativity Ink♡ Many Plots! Original and series! Fem seeks Males!

Oh, right. Yeah I understand that now. I don't think I tend to write like that so we should be all good on that front.

♡Creativity Ink♡ Many Plots! Original and series! Fem seeks Males!

Glint of a Barrel sounds like my kind of story. The male character actually reminds me a lot of a character I created some years ago, so I'll be able to pick him right back up.

Also this confuses me: Two people are not supposed to speak in the same paragraph. I can't say this enough.

What Is The Worst Movie?

What were the first three video games you played?

I can't recall exactly what the first three were. They were probably simple, educational kids games my Mum set me up with before I was old enough to remember.

But ones that stand out to me are:







Still give them a go these days for pure nostalgia.

War Never Changes

Quinn got out of his chair, grateful for the clean break from his awkward moment. He knelt down to inspect the wound, carefully removing the fabric around it, trying not to hurt her or appear inappropriate.
It wasn't too deep, but it would limit mobility for a while, and even though the human body was remarkably good at fighting infections it was never a safe bet. Quinn felt almost guilty for having prioritized his own scars for his bandages.
He thought for a long while, then sighed.
"Please don't stare," he said in a quiet voice, far removed from his usual tone. It was somewhat unnerving to hear. They had all seen Quinn gun down soldiers without hesitation, but now in the relatively safer confines of the house surrounded by people who were definitely not immediately threatening, he felt most vulnerable of all.
He undid the bandages around his head, exposing his hideous, scarred face to all present. He tightened them around Charlotte's leg, perhaps being a bit too rough in his haste to want to get out of the light.
"That should do you for tonight. Tomorrow morning I'll try and boil some water for the wound. It will hurt, but it's better than losing it to an infection."
It was the best he could do. He'd picked up some rudimentary first aid from the folks who had saved his life, but he had been fairly delirious for most of that time.

War Never Changes

Quinn took some time to retrieve his water skin from his bag. He was parched, his mouth bone dry. He took a restrained sip and then got out of his chair to find a darker corner of the house. He was still in the room with Charlotte and Alyssa but he faced away from them. He knelt down and in the glow of his flashlight he gingerly removed his bandages and placed them down on the floor in front of him. He filled his cupped hand with some water and then proceeded to clean the area around his scars where sweat had left him sticky. He ran some hands through his scruffy grey-blonde hair and through the accumulation of rough stubble on his cheeks. It wasn't much of a bath, but it would have to do.

He tied a new bandage around his head with the practiced motions of repeated application. It was incredible how much better something like clean bandages could make him feel. This was his last one, and unless he spent his dwindling supply of water on cleaning his old ones, he'd have to make the fresh ones last.
He frowned slightly and got back up to join the others at the table.
The silence hung between them heavily. It made Quinn shift in his seat.
"I suppose," he said at length, "this would be a bad time for a ghost story." He said as he shined the flashlight on his face as if he were about to tell one around a campfire. He smiled crookedly and immediately felt abashed by the action. He probably did cut a rather ghoulish figure after all. At least two of his teeth were cracked and then the edges of burn scarring gave off a dull shine like thick red spiderwebs.
He lowered the flashlight and muttered a weak, strained, "Sorry..."

What Are You Listening To?

A little removed from my usual fare, but as a John Carpenter fan I really dig this. It's got his style all over it.

War Never Changes

Quinn placed his reacquired, ragged poncho over the back of a dusty chair. A sheen of sweat had developed on his brow and shoulders from and equal mix of tension and the exertion of escape. He took deep breaths, rationalizing in his head that he was safe. At least they were safe for the night. Not even Blood Army wanted to face the ragged, shambling freaks that ruled the darkness.
Quinn's stomach growled and churned and it suddenly struck him how long it had been since he'd had some real, proper food. Even something from a can would do instead of preserves.
He closed his one working eye for a moment. He'd have to find a quiet spot to change the rags around his scarred eye. He didn't like people seeing it, he himself had only looked at it sparingly, begrudgingly to make sure there was no infection.

After a time he hadn't been keeping track of, he opened his eye and glanced around the room, reading the somber faces.
"Anybody got a deck of cards?" He asked to try and lighten the mood, even get a grunt of amusement out of someone. It was unlikely, but where would anybody be if they didn't at least try?

War Never Changes

I'll have a reply up soon.