Penguin said
Nice character!
Thank you! I like yours, it's a very innocent character. :)
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Thank you! I like yours, it's a very innocent character. :)
John was walking casually down the old forest road. Step by step upon the hard asphalt below him. All around him was an unsettling blanket of grey death. It consumed the trees all around him, destroying visibility. It is a plague upon this world but alas, it will not leave. The world before has been long gone now. All that is left is the forsaken ruins of civilization. Any memories of this world will die with the survivors. The human race will cease to extinct. This eerie train of thought is only a fraction of what circles his mind in his waking days. Similar thoughts would traverse his brain every day but it doesn’t seem to faze him. In a metaphorical way, he always saw the world as a lifeless ghost town where the spirits refuse to move on. The only difference now is that this metaphor is now literal.
The road carried on and on, showing the same road and the same trees at every mile. John kept walking in spite of this. He doesn’t why he’s going to Chicago, heck, he doesn’t even know why he’s still living. Death has been an old friend of his for many years now. His fear of it is absent and empty. Sometimes he thinks that Lady Luck is playing a cruel trick on him, or his survival instincts could still be raging on. He once thought that it’s just him being scared of becoming a coward. He thinks about this all the time and none of it. If his feet take him to Chicago, then his feet he will follow.
In the distance, the fog started showing a silhouette of something. It looked like some sort of building; it had no second floor but has a very wide structure. Could be some sort of shop, considering the fact he’s in the middle of nowhere. As he got closer to the building, it started to appear from the fog more bigger and visible. A sign then popped out of the fog. It was covered in dirt and blood and only a few key words were still distinguishable. It read “24 hour convenience store”. It thought it was about bloody time that something would appear out of this fucking fog. He then proceeded towards the store in the search of a ride and maybe some supplies.
John was about to walk into the store but he stopped suddenly in his tracks. He slowly looks behind him to see the trees on the other side of the road. He looked towards them with a cautious look in his eye. He felt like something was watching him from that fog, something ghostly and lifeless. He felt like he was staring into the cold abyss of lost souls as he looked towards those trees. He sometimes feels as dead as the ones who watch him. He just went back towards the store and walked right in. he knew it was empty because if he there was something in there, then he would have been dead already. If the creatures of the fog wanted you dead, then you’d be dead already. He started scavenging through the shelves and counters for anything valuable but it was all full of worthless, rusty shit from the old world. He cursed in anger of his misfortune and proceeded to the back room. It was as quiet and ruined as the main shopping floor. Everything looked like it had been raided. He probably wasn’t the first desperate soul to come through here. He was walking around the room slowly, just taking in the desolation, when he feels a small metallic prod from the bottom of his feet. He moved his foot away slowly and looked down in curiosity. It was a set of old and rusty keys. He picked them up to inspect their specific purpose. They looked like they belong to a vehicle. There was an old Volkswagen logo on one of the keys. At lease he knows what it belongs to now. He places the keys in one of his pockets and went out the side door of the building.
As he leaves the side door, he is greeted by the worn out whiteness of an old Volkswagen van right in front of him. On the side of the vehicle was the logo of the convenience store on it. It must have been a delivery van for the store. The van had patches of rust and stained old blood around it. He’s not even sure if it is still driveable. He walked to the front of it and opened up the hood. He started fiddling around with the innards of the vehicle, just checking to make sure if it is fine. Surprisingly it was an alright shape considering the environment it is in. He then closes the hood and steps inside the vehicle. The seats and the counters were lined with a thick layer of dust that danced in the air as John made himself adjusted in the vehicle. He stuck old key into the ignition with hopes that the vehicle still works. He turned it once: Nothing but a stutters and coughs. He turns it again: The same thing but more rougher. He then closed his eyes and slowly turned the ignition. The engine then spluttered back to life with a great big roar. The car started to shake with life and noise was vibrating with rebirth. He then starts setting his backpack onto the passenger seat but was eventually met with a great horror.
Out of nowhere, with sheer force on the windscreen, a blood drenched creature jumped onto the windscreen right in front of him. Fear jumped started his instincts into fight or flight. The creature in front of him was drenched in blood with a disgustingly mangled body. Its jaw was by part of its mouth and there were boils scattered over the body with pink, fleshy rips tattered on its body. It’s damaged clothes represented the chilling fact of its former humanity. It was one of the most disgusting and horrifying things known to the remnants of man, and they now rule this world. It gave a massive ear-trembling scream, as if it was a war call. John’s instincts voted for flight and he quickly switched to gear one and ramped down the accelerator. The sheer speed of it moving caused the creature to lose its balance and tumble over the roof of the vehicle. In his side-door mirror, he could see the creature lying on the ground, temporarily dazed. He then switched to reverse gear to ram the creature over with the back of the van. All that was heard was a mass thud and a dying groan. He moved the gear stick and continued pulling out onto the road, driving towards Chicago.
He didn’t know whether or not he was right to kill the creature or if he should have just left it be. Quite frankly, he didn’t care. He was a man who liked to get even. It wasn’t a personal thing, more of a natural thing. Men have been known to naturally seek revenge and he was in this small race of men. He’s just glad really, to have found some sort of transport. He looks at the fuel gauge and notices that it has a near full tank. This van must have really been abandoned to have a full tank. He knew that it was more than enough to get him to Chicago. What he’ll find there, he doesn’t know but with the shithole that the world is in, he’ll just have to wait and fucking see.
The road carried on and on, showing the same road and the same trees at every mile. John kept walking in spite of this. He doesn’t why he’s going to Chicago, heck, he doesn’t even know why he’s still living. Death has been an old friend of his for many years now. His fear of it is absent and empty. Sometimes he thinks that Lady Luck is playing a cruel trick on him, or his survival instincts could still be raging on. He once thought that it’s just him being scared of becoming a coward. He thinks about this all the time and none of it. If his feet take him to Chicago, then his feet he will follow.
In the distance, the fog started showing a silhouette of something. It looked like some sort of building; it had no second floor but has a very wide structure. Could be some sort of shop, considering the fact he’s in the middle of nowhere. As he got closer to the building, it started to appear from the fog more bigger and visible. A sign then popped out of the fog. It was covered in dirt and blood and only a few key words were still distinguishable. It read “24 hour convenience store”. It thought it was about bloody time that something would appear out of this fucking fog. He then proceeded towards the store in the search of a ride and maybe some supplies.
John was about to walk into the store but he stopped suddenly in his tracks. He slowly looks behind him to see the trees on the other side of the road. He looked towards them with a cautious look in his eye. He felt like something was watching him from that fog, something ghostly and lifeless. He felt like he was staring into the cold abyss of lost souls as he looked towards those trees. He sometimes feels as dead as the ones who watch him. He just went back towards the store and walked right in. he knew it was empty because if he there was something in there, then he would have been dead already. If the creatures of the fog wanted you dead, then you’d be dead already. He started scavenging through the shelves and counters for anything valuable but it was all full of worthless, rusty shit from the old world. He cursed in anger of his misfortune and proceeded to the back room. It was as quiet and ruined as the main shopping floor. Everything looked like it had been raided. He probably wasn’t the first desperate soul to come through here. He was walking around the room slowly, just taking in the desolation, when he feels a small metallic prod from the bottom of his feet. He moved his foot away slowly and looked down in curiosity. It was a set of old and rusty keys. He picked them up to inspect their specific purpose. They looked like they belong to a vehicle. There was an old Volkswagen logo on one of the keys. At lease he knows what it belongs to now. He places the keys in one of his pockets and went out the side door of the building.
As he leaves the side door, he is greeted by the worn out whiteness of an old Volkswagen van right in front of him. On the side of the vehicle was the logo of the convenience store on it. It must have been a delivery van for the store. The van had patches of rust and stained old blood around it. He’s not even sure if it is still driveable. He walked to the front of it and opened up the hood. He started fiddling around with the innards of the vehicle, just checking to make sure if it is fine. Surprisingly it was an alright shape considering the environment it is in. He then closes the hood and steps inside the vehicle. The seats and the counters were lined with a thick layer of dust that danced in the air as John made himself adjusted in the vehicle. He stuck old key into the ignition with hopes that the vehicle still works. He turned it once: Nothing but a stutters and coughs. He turns it again: The same thing but more rougher. He then closed his eyes and slowly turned the ignition. The engine then spluttered back to life with a great big roar. The car started to shake with life and noise was vibrating with rebirth. He then starts setting his backpack onto the passenger seat but was eventually met with a great horror.
Out of nowhere, with sheer force on the windscreen, a blood drenched creature jumped onto the windscreen right in front of him. Fear jumped started his instincts into fight or flight. The creature in front of him was drenched in blood with a disgustingly mangled body. Its jaw was by part of its mouth and there were boils scattered over the body with pink, fleshy rips tattered on its body. It’s damaged clothes represented the chilling fact of its former humanity. It was one of the most disgusting and horrifying things known to the remnants of man, and they now rule this world. It gave a massive ear-trembling scream, as if it was a war call. John’s instincts voted for flight and he quickly switched to gear one and ramped down the accelerator. The sheer speed of it moving caused the creature to lose its balance and tumble over the roof of the vehicle. In his side-door mirror, he could see the creature lying on the ground, temporarily dazed. He then switched to reverse gear to ram the creature over with the back of the van. All that was heard was a mass thud and a dying groan. He moved the gear stick and continued pulling out onto the road, driving towards Chicago.
He didn’t know whether or not he was right to kill the creature or if he should have just left it be. Quite frankly, he didn’t care. He was a man who liked to get even. It wasn’t a personal thing, more of a natural thing. Men have been known to naturally seek revenge and he was in this small race of men. He’s just glad really, to have found some sort of transport. He looks at the fuel gauge and notices that it has a near full tank. This van must have really been abandoned to have a full tank. He knew that it was more than enough to get him to Chicago. What he’ll find there, he doesn’t know but with the shithole that the world is in, he’ll just have to wait and fucking see.
Mateotis said
@Mr_Wiki_96, accepted! There were a few older characters in the old RP, but sadly their players are not continuing it here.Also, I love your avatar, Jax & Daxter ftw! :D
Thank you so much :D I'll get my opening post up as soon as I can. :)
Kain could tell from the look in her eyes that she didn’t take it too kindly that he was very resistant to joining the Reapers. Many would have called him mad and suicidal for opposing Scorn but he didn’t care. Unlike those cowards, he had the balls to say whatever the fuck he liked. Of course, Scorn wouldn’t want to lose a conduit as unique as Kain so she just had to suck it up. This was quite empowering for Kain and he rather enjoyed it. Both Scorn and Kain were two alpha dogs who love to be on top. The partnership that will ensue could end up turning into a long heated battle for power that may also heat up the relationship. Kain’s never been interested in love, since Ellie. His heart was destroyed and mangled just like that protester. Scorn would be there for sexual pleasure and the mutual enjoyment of the pain and suffering of others. He rather enjoys the thought actually.
Scorn then resumes to ask for Kain’s name. In her words, she did have a point. Kain could’t possibly continue to work with Scorn without a name. He then gives a small, devilish smile upon his face and spoke.
“My name is Kain. I should really ask for yours as well. We both know that Scorn is not your real name. I seem to recall you having a real name back in Curdun Cay but I can’t quite remember it.” He then starts scratch his beard, as if trying to remember what the name was. He then stops and shrugs uncaringly. “Actually, I quite frankly couldn’t give a fuck about your real name, considering the fact that Scorn suits you pretty fucking well.”
He then walks over to an old, wooden counter nearby and starts examining some of the tools on top of it. It almost reminds him of Curdun Cay. As torturing and scarring as Curdun Cay was, they sure do make a good impression on how to make someone scream. He then stops fiddling with them and turns back towards Scorn.
”So Miss Scorn,” he walks closer to her, inches away from her face. “Where do we start?”
Scorn then resumes to ask for Kain’s name. In her words, she did have a point. Kain could’t possibly continue to work with Scorn without a name. He then gives a small, devilish smile upon his face and spoke.
“My name is Kain. I should really ask for yours as well. We both know that Scorn is not your real name. I seem to recall you having a real name back in Curdun Cay but I can’t quite remember it.” He then starts scratch his beard, as if trying to remember what the name was. He then stops and shrugs uncaringly. “Actually, I quite frankly couldn’t give a fuck about your real name, considering the fact that Scorn suits you pretty fucking well.”
He then walks over to an old, wooden counter nearby and starts examining some of the tools on top of it. It almost reminds him of Curdun Cay. As torturing and scarring as Curdun Cay was, they sure do make a good impression on how to make someone scream. He then stops fiddling with them and turns back towards Scorn.
”So Miss Scorn,” he walks closer to her, inches away from her face. “Where do we start?”
Every one seemed to making some young character of sorts, so I thought to make an old character. :)
Name: John Wickham
Age: 46
Gender: Male
Appearance:
He’d be wearing an old tattered camouflaged jacket from his war days; unzipped. Underneath the jacket is an old Detroit Red Wings T-shirt. He’s also wearing normal cargo pants and combat boots. These are the only clothes he has, so they would be tattered and worn out. The jacket has an old US Army logo patched on too the shoulder but it is a bit worn out.
Equipment: He has a backpack that contains a water canteen, some canned food, a first aid kit, some rope, a standard issue army knife, a Berretta M9 with one magazine in the gun and two spares, road flares, a lighter, cigarettes, a whisky bottle and a vodka bottle both filled, a compass, a couple of bottles of antidepressants and a hand grenade (which is saved for when he really, really, really needs it).
His major weapon that he carries about is an M40 Bolt Action Sniper Rifle which he uses mostly for protection and hunting.
Skills: Since he was in the military for 10 years, he knows how to use weapons from personal experience. He’s had serious training in the Middle East with survival, so he can take care of himself with little supplies. He’s also very fit and in good shape. He’s also not afraid to do any of the dirty tasks that no one wants to do themselves. He also knows how to hunt well and how to track.
Personality: He is quite a scarred man. A major experience in the military left him quite damaged (emotionally), alone and regretful. He was once a very protective man of his troops and his younger brother (more on that in history). He is also guilt ridden and reluctant to risk more people’s lives. He doesn’t like it when people put trust in him. Ever since the Middle East, he doesn’t want people putting their lives in his hands. Even though he is guilt-ridden and scarred man he still can’t help trying to protect other people. He’s consistently at conflict with himself over it. He’s open to being in a group considering the fact that he’s got nothing better do in an apocalypse.
History: John Wickham was born and raised In Detroit with his younger brother Thomas; who was only a few years younger than him. They had a quiet life just like any other kid. They played hockey, hung out with friends but the fact was that John and Thomas were close brothers, they would do everything together. When John hit 18, he joined the US Army, a few years later his brother did the same thing. John was an exceptional soldier who became the sergeant of his unit by the age of 25. His brother was just a private in his unit. John took care of his unit like a father towards a child and everything went swimmingly until he hit 28.
When he was 28, they were sent out to some village in the middle of the desert which was, according to intel, was an enemy communications base. It was just like any other mission but john will come to realize that it was not. When they got to the village, it was quiet and abandoned. They thought about retreating but John was so sure that they were here. He ordered his unit to continue through the village. While traversing through it, it started. Bullets came out of nowhere and death was all around. John witnessed in front of eyes his men dying left, right and centre, including his younger brother as he look towards him for help. John ran from the ambush point, leaving his men to die. His instinct to survive took over and he was left with nothing. He was the only survivor. He walked through the desert for days with no communications and little water. He was lucky a patrol unit found him when they did.
He would not speak at all and he would scream in the night with terrors. His psych evaluation recommended him to be discharged honourably and to be placed in a mental hospital for PTSD. He didn’t really resist when they took him. He was still in shock. He was placed in that asylum for 5 years before he did something about it. Some part of him couldn’t handle the poking and prodding of his mind. He then acted out by escaping from the hospital and making his way to his old army barracks. There he broke in, stole an M9, a combat knife and an M40 Sniper Rifle. He ran to the forests north of Michigan and bought an old hunting cabin with whatever cash he had left. He stayed in that cabin for 10 years, doing odd jobs here and there for cash to pay for water and electricity; while also popping down antidepressants and bottles of alcohol. He was able to hunt for his own food and he didn’t mind the cold. He went under a different name so that the cops don’t find him but he was pretty sure they had bigger fish to fry than some crazy war veteran. Things were going fine until the fog came.
When it came, people with certain respitory problems started changing into monsters that hungered for the flesh of others. This problem didn’t hit John as he was quite isolated in his cabin but he stopped going into town since it started happening. He was safe for a couple of months but they started being seen everywhere, including the forest. He ended up having a near fatal encounter with one but he survived miraculously. He then left the cabin to find some place safer than the Michigan forests. He had been surviving on his own for a year and found no safe haven whatsoever and very few people on his travels. He’s now heading to Chicago in the hopes of finding some sort of safe place to settle down. No one can live on the move their whole life, not even John. He doesn’t know why he is continuing to try and survive. He thinks maybe it’s because he needs closure or that his instincts has taken over. Whatever the reason, he knows he has too keep moving as the only person who will ever watch his back his him.
Other: Is still suffering from PTSD and may act out occasionally.
Name: John Wickham
Age: 46
Gender: Male
Appearance:
He’d be wearing an old tattered camouflaged jacket from his war days; unzipped. Underneath the jacket is an old Detroit Red Wings T-shirt. He’s also wearing normal cargo pants and combat boots. These are the only clothes he has, so they would be tattered and worn out. The jacket has an old US Army logo patched on too the shoulder but it is a bit worn out.
Equipment: He has a backpack that contains a water canteen, some canned food, a first aid kit, some rope, a standard issue army knife, a Berretta M9 with one magazine in the gun and two spares, road flares, a lighter, cigarettes, a whisky bottle and a vodka bottle both filled, a compass, a couple of bottles of antidepressants and a hand grenade (which is saved for when he really, really, really needs it).
His major weapon that he carries about is an M40 Bolt Action Sniper Rifle which he uses mostly for protection and hunting.
Skills: Since he was in the military for 10 years, he knows how to use weapons from personal experience. He’s had serious training in the Middle East with survival, so he can take care of himself with little supplies. He’s also very fit and in good shape. He’s also not afraid to do any of the dirty tasks that no one wants to do themselves. He also knows how to hunt well and how to track.
Personality: He is quite a scarred man. A major experience in the military left him quite damaged (emotionally), alone and regretful. He was once a very protective man of his troops and his younger brother (more on that in history). He is also guilt ridden and reluctant to risk more people’s lives. He doesn’t like it when people put trust in him. Ever since the Middle East, he doesn’t want people putting their lives in his hands. Even though he is guilt-ridden and scarred man he still can’t help trying to protect other people. He’s consistently at conflict with himself over it. He’s open to being in a group considering the fact that he’s got nothing better do in an apocalypse.
History: John Wickham was born and raised In Detroit with his younger brother Thomas; who was only a few years younger than him. They had a quiet life just like any other kid. They played hockey, hung out with friends but the fact was that John and Thomas were close brothers, they would do everything together. When John hit 18, he joined the US Army, a few years later his brother did the same thing. John was an exceptional soldier who became the sergeant of his unit by the age of 25. His brother was just a private in his unit. John took care of his unit like a father towards a child and everything went swimmingly until he hit 28.
When he was 28, they were sent out to some village in the middle of the desert which was, according to intel, was an enemy communications base. It was just like any other mission but john will come to realize that it was not. When they got to the village, it was quiet and abandoned. They thought about retreating but John was so sure that they were here. He ordered his unit to continue through the village. While traversing through it, it started. Bullets came out of nowhere and death was all around. John witnessed in front of eyes his men dying left, right and centre, including his younger brother as he look towards him for help. John ran from the ambush point, leaving his men to die. His instinct to survive took over and he was left with nothing. He was the only survivor. He walked through the desert for days with no communications and little water. He was lucky a patrol unit found him when they did.
He would not speak at all and he would scream in the night with terrors. His psych evaluation recommended him to be discharged honourably and to be placed in a mental hospital for PTSD. He didn’t really resist when they took him. He was still in shock. He was placed in that asylum for 5 years before he did something about it. Some part of him couldn’t handle the poking and prodding of his mind. He then acted out by escaping from the hospital and making his way to his old army barracks. There he broke in, stole an M9, a combat knife and an M40 Sniper Rifle. He ran to the forests north of Michigan and bought an old hunting cabin with whatever cash he had left. He stayed in that cabin for 10 years, doing odd jobs here and there for cash to pay for water and electricity; while also popping down antidepressants and bottles of alcohol. He was able to hunt for his own food and he didn’t mind the cold. He went under a different name so that the cops don’t find him but he was pretty sure they had bigger fish to fry than some crazy war veteran. Things were going fine until the fog came.
When it came, people with certain respitory problems started changing into monsters that hungered for the flesh of others. This problem didn’t hit John as he was quite isolated in his cabin but he stopped going into town since it started happening. He was safe for a couple of months but they started being seen everywhere, including the forest. He ended up having a near fatal encounter with one but he survived miraculously. He then left the cabin to find some place safer than the Michigan forests. He had been surviving on his own for a year and found no safe haven whatsoever and very few people on his travels. He’s now heading to Chicago in the hopes of finding some sort of safe place to settle down. No one can live on the move their whole life, not even John. He doesn’t know why he is continuing to try and survive. He thinks maybe it’s because he needs closure or that his instincts has taken over. Whatever the reason, he knows he has too keep moving as the only person who will ever watch his back his him.
Other: Is still suffering from PTSD and may act out occasionally.
Argetlam350 said
All right I'll accept that then. But be warned Scorn isn't a happy camper when it comes to rogue conduits messing around in her playground. XD
Well Scorn will have to learn to play nice with others. :P
MatthiasAngel said
Including the GM,Players Accepted: 10Players who have posted only once IC: 3 (Marshal, Piqsy, HellGirl)Players who have not posted: 2 (BigPapa, Incredible John)I can accept working with five people if the four AFK players drop out. That's still enough for a good story.
Same here, a lot of us are kind of close in terms of distance. There's still a chance for all of us to meet up and join up with The Seer or something like that.
MatthiasAngel said
I'm active. Waiting on Swarley to post.
Cool cool, just checking to make sure that this was still alive.
Has this been abandoned? Who here is still active?
The scared woman took the apple from his hand and inspected it for anything remotely poisonous. In these times it was a smart thing to do but to Darren’s eyes, it was rather pointless. If he really wanted to kill her he would have down the moment he set his eyes upon her. She took a large bite out of the apple and started ravaging it around her mouth. It was as if she had never eaten an apple in her life. There was one thing Darren noticed about her was that she talks a lot. So many questions came shooting out of her mouth. He wanders if she was some sort of journalist before all this. However oddly, Darren didn’t seem too bothered by this. It was almost welcome out here. Not many people, including himself, have much to say to each other. It’s almost as if not much has gotten her down.
Darren then proceeded to answer her many questions. “I found it on a tree. They’re not exactly long gone. Civilization has fucked off but Mother Nature has decided to stick around,” he then holsters his fireaxe onto his back. He wouldn’t be needing it for the moment as this girl doesn’t seem to pose any threat. “Of course it’s safe to eat. If I wanted to fucking kill you, I would have dug my axe into your skull.” The girl then started to try to offer some sort of compensation in returned but all Darren could focus on was her eating with her mouth full and dripping everywhere like a damn five year old. It started to annoy him.
“For fuck sake, stop dribbling everywhere, you’re not a goddamn baby!” As he takes his small cloth off of his satchel belt, he starts to wipe the pieces of crumbs like as if she was a small child and he was her father. Suddenly in that one small moment he nostalgically saw himself as a father again. His paternal memories that he had kept so hard to lockdown in his mind was slightly opened a little to let a memory out. He see’s himself feeding his little girl Sophie many years ago. It was a happy memory feeding her; it was one of those few minuscule moments where he felt like a father. He then rushed back to reality and stepped back a little, stopping wiping the girl’s chin altogether. He’s never been paternal since the whole thing began. He couldn’t believe that he had witnessed something that he had long forgotten. An expression of disbelief and shock came to his face. Paternal instinct was extinct to him and yet it had shown it’s hidden face for a small moment. It was unbelievable to Darren.
“Umm…Sorry about that…I’m sure you can wipe your face yourself,” nervously replied Darren. He then shakes his head to bring himself back to his senses and speak normally back to the girl. “No, you can keep your stuff. I’ve already got some supplies.” He then picks his back pack up from the ground and closes. He proceeded to place it on his back. “I wasn’t running away, I was running too a gunshot that came from right over those trees.” He then continued to point towards some trees in the near distance. “It’s not that far and I’m away to check it out.” He then starts walking slowly towards the direction but he then stops and turns around. “You’re welcome to come along.” This was an odd action by Darren. Usually he would never bring anyone with him on his journeys but something about this girl doesn’t make him want to isolate her. He almost wants to thank her strangely. For the first time in a long time, he feels almost…Paternal.
Darren then proceeded to answer her many questions. “I found it on a tree. They’re not exactly long gone. Civilization has fucked off but Mother Nature has decided to stick around,” he then holsters his fireaxe onto his back. He wouldn’t be needing it for the moment as this girl doesn’t seem to pose any threat. “Of course it’s safe to eat. If I wanted to fucking kill you, I would have dug my axe into your skull.” The girl then started to try to offer some sort of compensation in returned but all Darren could focus on was her eating with her mouth full and dripping everywhere like a damn five year old. It started to annoy him.
“For fuck sake, stop dribbling everywhere, you’re not a goddamn baby!” As he takes his small cloth off of his satchel belt, he starts to wipe the pieces of crumbs like as if she was a small child and he was her father. Suddenly in that one small moment he nostalgically saw himself as a father again. His paternal memories that he had kept so hard to lockdown in his mind was slightly opened a little to let a memory out. He see’s himself feeding his little girl Sophie many years ago. It was a happy memory feeding her; it was one of those few minuscule moments where he felt like a father. He then rushed back to reality and stepped back a little, stopping wiping the girl’s chin altogether. He’s never been paternal since the whole thing began. He couldn’t believe that he had witnessed something that he had long forgotten. An expression of disbelief and shock came to his face. Paternal instinct was extinct to him and yet it had shown it’s hidden face for a small moment. It was unbelievable to Darren.
“Umm…Sorry about that…I’m sure you can wipe your face yourself,” nervously replied Darren. He then shakes his head to bring himself back to his senses and speak normally back to the girl. “No, you can keep your stuff. I’ve already got some supplies.” He then picks his back pack up from the ground and closes. He proceeded to place it on his back. “I wasn’t running away, I was running too a gunshot that came from right over those trees.” He then continued to point towards some trees in the near distance. “It’s not that far and I’m away to check it out.” He then starts walking slowly towards the direction but he then stops and turns around. “You’re welcome to come along.” This was an odd action by Darren. Usually he would never bring anyone with him on his journeys but something about this girl doesn’t make him want to isolate her. He almost wants to thank her strangely. For the first time in a long time, he feels almost…Paternal.
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