teapotshark Member
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- Old Guild Username: splash13
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- teapotshark 11 yrs ago
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Pre-Guildfall, 2008. Communication is what makes a lasting roleplay.
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Very not smart. Very very not smart.
Chris' eyed flickered between the two as the conversation hurried on. Everything she wanted to say lodged in her throat, only part out of choice. The urge to keep Mercy from going anywhere near the psycho in the attic grew stronger the more they talked, but she reminded herself it was not her place to tell Mercy what to do, however much she found herself caring. So she kept quiet and occupied herself with watching them. It was the least she could do to distract herself from the pain crippling her arm.
Her anger bubbled incessantly when Dog placed the heaviest of the blame on her. What did they expect her to do, when she walked in on her only family lying limp in a confirmed nutjob's arms? Of course Dog would defend him. Chris tried to decipher how Mercy felt about the whole situation from just her expression, but soon enough she spoke as well.
Briefly, Mercy seemed concerned with Chris' injury, but Chris did her best to hide her pain and held her arms as normally as possible. If anyone knew how useless her hand was, they might stop her from leaving. Still, Mercy changed her mind before she could assess the damage. Chris stepped forward to stop Mercy from leaving the room, from putting herself in the same attic as that madman, but the other woman moved too quickly.
Alone together again, Tony rose slowly into a sitting position on the bed. He murmured to draw his friend's attention before tapping her side lightly. She turned around, abandoning her act, and slipped to her knees in front of him. “I was so scared,” she mumbled to him, ducking her head to his lap. As rare as it was, seeing her like this made his chest tighten. He shuffled off the bed and knelt on the floor, wrapping his arms around her.
“It's okay,” he soothed, rubbing circles on her back the way her grandfather would when she was young and her parents kicked her out. “I'm okay, see. Perfectly healthy.” Chris returned the hug with one arm, leaving the other pressed loosely at her side. “You're hurt, Chris. Please let someone look at it?”
Quickly recovering, she shook her head. “We're leaving.”
Her anger bubbled incessantly when Dog placed the heaviest of the blame on her. What did they expect her to do, when she walked in on her only family lying limp in a confirmed nutjob's arms? Of course Dog would defend him. Chris tried to decipher how Mercy felt about the whole situation from just her expression, but soon enough she spoke as well.
Briefly, Mercy seemed concerned with Chris' injury, but Chris did her best to hide her pain and held her arms as normally as possible. If anyone knew how useless her hand was, they might stop her from leaving. Still, Mercy changed her mind before she could assess the damage. Chris stepped forward to stop Mercy from leaving the room, from putting herself in the same attic as that madman, but the other woman moved too quickly.
Alone together again, Tony rose slowly into a sitting position on the bed. He murmured to draw his friend's attention before tapping her side lightly. She turned around, abandoning her act, and slipped to her knees in front of him. “I was so scared,” she mumbled to him, ducking her head to his lap. As rare as it was, seeing her like this made his chest tighten. He shuffled off the bed and knelt on the floor, wrapping his arms around her.
“It's okay,” he soothed, rubbing circles on her back the way her grandfather would when she was young and her parents kicked her out. “I'm okay, see. Perfectly healthy.” Chris returned the hug with one arm, leaving the other pressed loosely at her side. “You're hurt, Chris. Please let someone look at it?”
Quickly recovering, she shook her head. “We're leaving.”
Writing up a post now while I have the free time!
EDIT: Dun dun dunnnnn. Posted.
EDIT: Dun dun dunnnnn. Posted.
Aww. I'll write a Chris/Tony post and have it up later tonight, hopefully. I have an evening class and then assignments.
Sounds like a plan!
Zombie attacks (individuals, small groups or hordes), crazy survivors turning on our survivors, finding something (either good, bad or ambiguous) in the town, someone gets lost or separated or hurt, infection scares, team bonding!
Don't worry about being busy! We've all got lives to live. We'll keep the OOC going in any absences.
Tony blinked repeatedly, sometimes closing for longer than a few seconds, until his eyes finally allowed him to see. What he saw was his best friend above him, features tense and frowning in both worry and rage – he knew her long enough to read her exactly as she felt. He twitched, half wanting to move and see what else was happening, when he felt her arms around him and realised for the first time she was carrying him.
As the realisation hit, so did the memory of what had transpired. He could imagine what happened following his passing out. Tony felt a tremendous amount of guilt for it, though he had to settle on what his imagination could tell him. He could not help but think that this would hamper any small chance Cat had of rehabilitation within the group.
Chris kept her eyes on Cat even when she felt Tony wriggle and saw his eyes open from the corner of her vision. She could not let him make a single move without her muscles twitching, a sensation that made the agony of her hand, wrist and arm worse. She rested the majority of Tony's weight on her left arm, grinding her teeth to keep from whimpering whenever another lightning bolt of pain shot through her right. She didn't want to give Cat the satisfaction of seeing her injured.
Even as he moved away and cut himself, she remained where she stood, unabashed. She had seen worse, and wasn't the slightest bit surprised to see a madman such as Cat hurting himself. She did not expect to feel Mercy's fingers on her arm again, sending another shot of pain through it. When Mercy turned away and left, Chris followed quickly. On alert, her senses picked up the other woman's erratic heartbeat and unsteady breathing.
Chris slipped into the room she shared with Tony and immediately went to the bed to set him down. He looked up at her with tired, worried eyes as he laid down, initiating a silent conversation between the two. Dog's arrival cut it short, and Chris stood guard in front of Tony's bed. She knew Dog posed little or no threat to Tony or Mercy, but still she itched to keep them away from both the twins.
Crouching, she plucked her baton and rifle from beneath her bed, swung the rifle over her shoulder and held the baton in her left hand. “If he does,” she started, referencing Mercy's question, “he leaves or he dies.”
As the realisation hit, so did the memory of what had transpired. He could imagine what happened following his passing out. Tony felt a tremendous amount of guilt for it, though he had to settle on what his imagination could tell him. He could not help but think that this would hamper any small chance Cat had of rehabilitation within the group.
Chris kept her eyes on Cat even when she felt Tony wriggle and saw his eyes open from the corner of her vision. She could not let him make a single move without her muscles twitching, a sensation that made the agony of her hand, wrist and arm worse. She rested the majority of Tony's weight on her left arm, grinding her teeth to keep from whimpering whenever another lightning bolt of pain shot through her right. She didn't want to give Cat the satisfaction of seeing her injured.
Even as he moved away and cut himself, she remained where she stood, unabashed. She had seen worse, and wasn't the slightest bit surprised to see a madman such as Cat hurting himself. She did not expect to feel Mercy's fingers on her arm again, sending another shot of pain through it. When Mercy turned away and left, Chris followed quickly. On alert, her senses picked up the other woman's erratic heartbeat and unsteady breathing.
Chris slipped into the room she shared with Tony and immediately went to the bed to set him down. He looked up at her with tired, worried eyes as he laid down, initiating a silent conversation between the two. Dog's arrival cut it short, and Chris stood guard in front of Tony's bed. She knew Dog posed little or no threat to Tony or Mercy, but still she itched to keep them away from both the twins.
Crouching, she plucked her baton and rifle from beneath her bed, swung the rifle over her shoulder and held the baton in her left hand. “If he does,” she started, referencing Mercy's question, “he leaves or he dies.”
Working on a post!
EDIT: Posted!
EDIT: Posted!
It's okay! We're in no rush.
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