Lemons

ᴘʀᴏᴊᴇᴄᴛ: _ɢᴇɴᴇsɪs

<Snipped quote by Lemons>
...(and kill some kids).

@Inkarnate

To be honest, I probably let way too many people in to begin with.

ᴘʀᴏᴊᴇᴄᴛ: _ɢᴇɴᴇsɪs

And the edit has been crafted. Sorry for kinda god-modding you into the second group, Ink, but I didn't know where you'd gone and wanted to get some things rolling.

ᴘʀᴏᴊᴇᴄᴛ: _ɢᴇɴᴇsɪs

I have no idea what's been keeping the co-GM, but two other people is, at the moment, enough for me. I'll get started on editing up my post.

Zombie Survival

@1Hawkeyes

Shit. Ow, ow, ow.

"I really didn't need another head wound," I mutter as a shard of glass scrapes across my forehead, slicing a tiny bleeding slit above my right eye. It's not a serious wound, but it's going to be annoying to constantly have blood going into my eye. Anyway, now that the glass is out of the way, I brace my hands on the side, grunting in irritation and pain as my aching arms lever me up to a roughly standing position. I step up, finally freeing myself from that damn door. Now that my arms are free, I rub my temples, wincing at the still-constant headache. Christ. This sucks.

"Thanks, then, Ally," I mumble grudgingly at the woman. "Tori." I survey the scene. The bus is on it's side, having flipped over. Now that I look at it, it seems like a blessing that I didn't fuckin' die. I take a moment to wipe blood out of my eye—I can already tell that this is going to get annoying real fast—and try to figure a way out of this bus. I'm already starting to feel claustrophobic, and if I'm not out of here within the next ten minutes, tops, I think I'm going to flip shit.

Windows? Either too high or on the pavement. Same for door. Roof hatch? I wordlessly maneuver my way over the seats and grab the handle on the roof safety hatch, yanking it to the side. Nothing. Must've gotten stuck somehow. Fan-fucking-tastic.

"Hey," I croak in a passable imitation of a yell, "anyone near the back of the bus want to see if the backside can still open up?"

The Breeds

Gavin didn't really know why Noelle was whispering, but he didn't at all mind. He didn't much feel like talking himself. "You look interesting too," he whispered back as a sort of half-compliment, giving the barest impression of a smile. "You probably heard already, but Gavin. So," he continued, "what did they do to you?"

Privately, he was still seething at Luke's attitude, especially toward his mutation. It was so...casual. It felt wrong, somehow. Noelle seemed alright, though. Even though since his mutation Gavin had become exceedingly paranoid—partially from his own fears, partially from new genetic coding as a being near the lower end of the food chain—he felt a bit less horrified somehow, and though something about Noelle made him strangely alert, he didn't feel any particular urge to scream, cower, or bolt. Quite the novel experience.

@Kit DewStein

Zombie Survival

@forums It's no big deal, thanks for responding.

ᴘʀᴏᴊᴇᴄᴛ: _ɢᴇɴᴇsɪs

Is anybody at all still interested in this RP? If so, I can do some post edits, meet up more directly with the other group. I just want to know if the interest is still here.

The Breeds

Gavin jumped as he heard somebody addressing him. After listening a moment, shuddering a bit at the "cool mutation" piece, he began to tentatively speak, quailing before the large and (to him) aggressive-looking man. He was unable to make eye contact, instead looking down and speaking in a low mumble. It came out garbled, the mandibles mangling his speech just like they did the fruit. His heavy Scottish accent did nothing to help matters, only making it less intelligible until it sounded more like Italian than English.

"I—I'm Gavin. Gavin MacAllistair. I...they crossed me with an insect of some sort. Maybe...dragonfly? I mean, most bugs don't have four wings."

As he spoke, a snapping, rustling sound emanated from his back and his sweatshirt stretched out. He winced. If I'd known it was going to be anywhere near this painful, I never would've agreed to it. Taking a deep breath, pained breath, he slipped the hoodie off, letting his insectoid wings fan out through the long, crude slits cut by a guard—whether as a kindness or a mocking joke, he didn't know. While the pain didn't fade entirely, it did recede, and the four wings hung there, occasionally sliding over themselves to create the clicking noise.

He looked down again immediately. "I guess it would be nice if it didn't hurt so much. The jaws hurt my cheeks, and the wings kill my shoulders and back." He rubbed the bulges in his cheeks tenderly.

@Helo

Riverswell University; Sanctuary and Learning Center for Demi-Gods and Hybrids

@Hopeless Swan Sweet, I can't wait. Should be interesting to see how Jackie plays with Ebbo too, considering the history between their parents. @Queentze

The Breeds

@KatherinWinter You know what they say; never enough horrified, traumatized psychiatric wrecks reeling from the loss of everything they held dear!