Kuro

Left Behind: Mulberry Street

@Vertigo Just got with Micki. We're both in agreement that we would need more character information as GMs (like what do they do for a living). You can DM us if you'd like to keep the mysterious side of him in play, but we do need information as a sort of "safeguard" in case there are any hiccups down the road.

How high can we count before a mod gets involved?

406

Left Behind: Mulberry Street

Would something like this fly? Bear with me, trying something new out here with the genre and the use of IRL face claims/pics and all!

just a dude and his dog

B O R G E R S E N
B O R G E R S E N

"Sometimes, your closest family's got four legs."

_{[ ❇ ] B R I E F F A M I L Y H I S T O R Y}

The Borgersen family hasn't been in town for long, and the reputation they've built isn't entirely positive so far. Not quite used to the culture of greeting and talking to your neighbours, the silent, reclusive Artair and his potential shewolf can come across as cold, distant and even suspicious to some of the members of the community — especially when patrolling the streets in the early hours of the morning or late at night, wordless and armed. As for where the Borgersens came from and what Alistair does for a living, there are only guesses and rumours circulating about, some less complimentary than the others. He can be seen outside on his porch at odd hours of the day though, and he never seems to leave his house long enough to go to a workplace; rather, whenever he leaves, it's most often with a thermos, a backbag and the dog in tow.

_{[ ❇ ] F A M I L Y M E M B E R S}

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▅ ▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅ "Live and let live." ▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅

B O R G E R S E N, A R T A I R || P A T R I A R C H B O R G E R S E N, A R T A I R || P A T R I A R C H _________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________ A loner at heart, Artair prefers the company of his dog to most people, and isn't very often seen interacting with others in the neighborhood. That doesn't mean, however, that he dislikes people. On the contrary, it's just that he's perfectly content watching the people around him live their lives happily, separate from his own. He feels he doesn't really know how to interact with them in a way would contribute to their lives, anyway. Instead, he prefers to show that he cares through actions. That is, he and Taiga patrol around the neighbourhood quite often, keeping an eye out for zombies and opportunistic outsiders alike. Ever vigilant, yet ever quite-suspicious-looking to the local folk. If it weren't for the copious amount of smoking he does and the nightmares that sometimes keep him from getting any proper shut eye, his lifestyle could be described as pretty healthy. After all, regardless of how little he slept, he can be found on a jog with Taiga every single morning before the sun rises, without exception. ▅

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▅ ▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅ "Awoo." ▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅

T A I G A || C O M P A N I O N T A I G A || C O M P A N I O N _________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________ A rescue mutt who Artair claims rescued him, not vice-versa. She quite literally walked into Artair's life as a young pup, and hasn't left his side since. Due to her appearance, she gets mistaken for a wolf quite often (even Artair made the mistake at first, and to this day cannot say for sure whether she has some wolfdog in her), which makes many people mistrust her and give her a wide berth. At an estimated six years old, her crazy puppy days are long past. Confident and calm, she's an observer much like her owner, hardly phased by noise or the various small critters that pass through the neighbourhood. Her alarm bark is loud, but used sparingly. She does howl quite often, though, which doesn't exactly help with the wolf allegations. She's not too keen on most people, preferring to leave them alone and be left alone in turn, but there are a select few she likes allows to touch her, chosen by criteria even Artair isn't privy to.▅ ▅

@Vertigo

Waiting for Micki to get back to me in DMs about the CS.

Left Behind: Mulberry Street

@KuroAny particular image size or no?

@Astro

Nope, save for nothing oversized. If it looks too big, it is probably too big.

Left Behind: Mulberry Street

I’ll make an character or family around Monday or Tuesday

@Astro

If you have any questions, feel free to drop them in the OOC.

The CS content itself isn't complicated, in fact the content is less than most CSes. It's just the coding that makes it looks complicated.

Left Behind: Mulberry Street

_{Location: Master Bedroom, Holloway Residence}

Timeframe: Early Morning

---

_{Interaction(s): None}

Previously: N/A

Blake Holloway laid on his bed, counting each individual groove on the bedroom ceiling in silence.

Since his wife had passed just prior to the apocalypse to cancer, moments like these had become part of his morning ritual. It was as if he had been frozen in a catatonic state, unable to move from where he laid. On most days, at least prior to the apocalypse, the alarm clock would endlessly buzz until the oldest of his two children would come by to wake up her father and get him out of bed. What was once a proud, confident man was now broken and in shambles, marching only forward each day for his daughters—and even that was often a challenge for him.

A knock on the bedroom door. Blake tilted his head towards the noise, before eventually sitting upwards in the bed as his eldest entered the room to wake her father.

"It's time to get up."

Blake didn't offer a response, instead climbing out of bed without a word. He shuffled towards the bathroom, while his daughter went back downstairs, presumably to watch over her younger sister.

Shutting the door behind him, Blake readied himself a shower. He deliberately set the temperature on cold, letting the freezing water rush over his hair. It made him feel alive. That he wasn't just a hollow, discarded husk of a man. But most of all, it awoke something deep within him—an emotion he hadn't regularly felt in years.

For the first time since the birth of his youngest, he cried.

---

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_{Location: Kitchen, Holloway Residence}

Timeframe: Early Morning

---

_{Interaction(s): None}

Previously: N/A

"It's time to get up."

Holly sighed as her father stumbled out of bed. She wasn't a stranger to his pain; just as he lost a wife, she and her sister both lost a mother. Deep down, though, Holly knew that their family couldn't keep going on like this, least they lose their father as well. She couldn't keep being the responsible parent of the house, especially now in a time like this. It hadn't been her father comforting her younger sister when the town seemed to explode last night, nor was it him ensuring that the three of them still had food to eat. No, it had all been Holly—a simple high school girl woefully unprepared to fill shoes too big for her.

The stress was getting to Holly, and it was certainly only going to get worse. There wasn't much more she could take.

Heading down the stairs to the kitchen, Holly took a seat at the dining table beside her sister, Morgan. She smiled at Morgan as she tried to think of something to talk about that didn't relate to their current situation. As much as Morgan had needed to know for her own safety, Holly dreaded telling her that the world was no more. That there were man-hungry zombies roaming everywhere in their hometown and beyond, eager to eat them alive.

They were things you just couldn't tell a five year old kid, Holly felt. It was better to shelter Morgan as best as she could from the outside world, not scare her to death with reality. She hardly understood why their mother was gone, what hope did Holly have to tell her the truth here?

"Mr. Fluffykins says thank you," Morgan broke the silence, pretending that her stuffed cat was eating a plate of instant mix pancakes. "Ohm-nom-nom-nom!" She continued, making fake "cat-eating-a-pancake" noises.

"Well, Mr. Fluffykins better eat it all. I worked very hard to make those pancakes, you know."

"But—"

"No butsies." Holly got up from the table, and opened the kitchen fridge. She pulled out a cannister of whipped cream, and gave it a slight shake. "Or else he won't get the last bit of whipped cream with them."

"F-Fine..."

"I thought that would get him to eat." Holly replied, smiling once more.

Left Behind: Mulberry Street

It was an early spring morning, yet the day carried none of the wondrous joys of springtime.

A misty, dark sky had blanketed Huddeen, casting out the now rising sun. One might've considered it eerie. Desolate, even. To the superstitious, however, the fog was a warning sign.

A deafening crash was heard the night before deep within town center, interrupting the mindless groans and grunts that now acted as a chorus to a quiet and empty Huddeen. What, or who, for that matter, it was, was still a mystery to those of Mulberry Street, for going outside at night was too dangerous and risky an option. Regardless, one thing was certain: the noise had certainly riled up the undead from their slumber.

Thankfully for the denizens of Mulberry Street, their neighborly street seemed to be clear and safe for the time being. There had been a few stragglers that could be seen some ways further down road, but otherwise Mulberry Street had succeeded in surviving another night safe and zombie-free.

Nevertheless, how much longer could this apocalyptic serenity last? And what had caused that noise earlier? Only time, and a potential life-risking expedition, could tell.

Left Behind: Mulberry Street

We be doing some swapping and reshuffles.

@mickilennial

holly and lee be like:

What Are You Listening To?

good music for when i'm button mashing as mage in tww

Left Behind: Mulberry Street

While I play busy with trying to find new FCs, @Morgannis@Theyra@Gunther consider yourself accepted.