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Snippet #2500189

located in Season 2, a part of The Walking Dead: Online, one of the many universes on RPG.

Season 2

"One Day"

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Thomas Blackthorne Character Portrait: Stephanie "Stevie" Darden Character Portrait: Lisa Pazzino (NPC) Character Portrait: Althea Brown
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On the morning of Day 7, Stevie slowly opened her heavy eyes to find that Thomas had already awakened and gotten out of bed. Immediately, the hangover painfully hazing her brain took priority. She stumbled blindly upward and rummaged through a dresser drawer, pulling out a black t-shirt that fit long, just above her knees. She shuffled clumsily to the bathroom and washed her face, almost feeling sick at the mere smell of soap. She quickly brushed her hair, put on her glasses, and took one rueful look in the mirror before walking out the bedroom door.

She staggered through the hall and down the stairs, and wandered down into the kitchen. Thomas was already there, staring out of one of the large bay windows, looking like he may have been in similar shape. His rifle stood balanced up against the door not far away. "Good morning," he managed politely, pulling a stool out from beside the island table in the center of the kitchen and offering it to her.

She opened the refrigerator door and unenthusiastically pulled out a container of orange juice and a package of sliced bread. "I'll get back to you on that," she said, shocked to hear her voice still slurring a little. Woops.

He laughed a little and pointed to the toaster. "You might want that, right?"

Stevie climbed upon the stool Thomas had offered, folded her arms on the cold marble surface of the table, and put her face down. "Suddenly toast and anything toast-related or food-related sounds... just horrible," her voice muffled out.

"Seriously? I was counting on you making breakfast," he said sternly. Stevie glanced up and stared at him until he finally smiled. "Joke. It was a joke."

She laughed and held her head in her hands to brace against the pressure it pushed on her skull. "Did I get that right? You told a joke!" she exclaimed, smiling appreciatively. "For a while there I was wondering if you even had a sense of humor."

Thomas shook his head. "Nope, nothing is funny to me," he went on, still joking. "Not a single thing. I was born without a personality."

"But your personality is your best quality!" she snickered comfortably, circling the cap off of the container of juice.

He crossed to the refrigerator and retrieved a bottle of cranberry juice, poured some of it into a glass, and offered it to her in place of the orange juice. "I'd drink this instead."

She took the glass and wordlessly drank it down quickly. "Well, so today I learned you're funny," she said after a moment, a lilt of flirtatious teasing in her voice. "Two days ago I learned that you're a terrible piano player. And yesterday I learned all kinds of other things."

He pulled up a stool close to her and sipped a tall glass of water, rubbing his face tiredly. "Yesterday I learned that you and tequila are not a good match," he teased back with a straight face. "And I heard you like to sing. And that it sounds horrible."

Stevie laughed good-naturedly and grabbed a banana from the bowl in the middle of the table, peeled it, and offered half to him. "I just learned that you're a jerk," she said with a wry smile, leaning over to bump his arm with her shoulder. She really did like him. She didn't even mind that he called her "Stephanie" instead of her nickname. She had briefly wondered if his actions on Day 3 were far too extreme, but after all was said and done, she had to admit that he might have been right after all. He had been such a tremendous help to her this whole time, even going with her into an abandoned pharmacy in the city to successfully find any bottles of Ciprofloxacin and Levofloxacin to help knock out the last of the kidney infection that had crept up so quickly at the start of Day 2. The alcohol intake of the last few days wasn't the most constructive thing to do while taking antibiotics, but at this point it didn't really matter. Especially not when they were on watch together the previous night.

He shrugged and gestured outside. "You up for a walk? I need to go see how it's going out there. I could use some company," he added with a smile.

Stevie looked down at her long black shirt and pointed to her knees. "I look like shit," she blurted out.

"Well, no one out there is going to care," he stated matter-of-factly, "and I don't think you do. Let's go."

# # #

Considering how the first four of these nine days had gone, most of the remaining were actually pretty great.

The end of Day 2 surreally bled into Day 3. Stevie followed close behind the four, traipsing quietly through the night. They all took cover from the bombing by hiding in a ditch off of the highway. She was so deliriously tired that it almost felt like she lost any sensation in her feet and legs as she bounded ahead, through trees and on streets alike. No one stopped for a single moment, or said a single word. They just kept pressing onward.

Day 3 was a mess. One awful firefight caused them to lose Bishop but they then brought another young woman into the group. Unfortunately, those who caused Bishop's death also caused her a great deal of humiliation in all kinds of degrading fashions. She was reluctantly relieved when Stevie convinced her to come travel with them, even if she didn't say much at all, not even her name, for days.

By midday on Day 4, they'd picked up more people: one couple, Alejandro and Maria, who only spoke Spanish, one middle-aged chiropractor, Lisa, and a college student, Jordan. By the end of Day 4, their reasoning to head up into the hills for higher ground stood for a far better outcome than they'd anticipated when they'd happened upon the open iron gate of a massive, ostentatious estate. A few walkers wandered around the grounds, and were easily dispatched once the nine rushed in and locked the gate behind them. The door to the home was shut but unlocked; the owners must have hastily departed in vain effort to seek safer shelter.

It was likely that no person in the group had ever been in a place like this. The mansion looked like something out of a movie set--large enough to have actual wings to retreat to, a stainless modern kitchen, a tennis court, spellbinding windows overlooking the canyon, an obscene number of vehicles parked in an echoey garage, and solar panels to keep the electricity on--even the pool filter.

The situation was more than just comical--it was terrific.

Everyone was too tired to explore the home further as they all simply took their own respective rooms and crashed for hours and hours. Walkers crowded at the iron fence, trailing the group's scent but thankfully unable to work their way through.

By the middle of Day 5, most people were up and about, and treated the house very carefully, as though they were guests visiting the home just temporarily. They determined that it would be beneficial to keep watch from the flat roof above. It wasn't until Clarkson found the extensive collection of wine and just about any spirit anyone could dare to name--just in time for the evening--that they finally relaxed.

Carpe diem. The party was killer.

On Day 6, after post-celebration hangovers had subsided, the group decided to divvy up assignments to keep watch. Thomas and Stevie were tasked with the first night shift.

The next few days were fairly relaxed as everyone began to explore the sprawling house. The food pantry was well-stocked and put to good use. Golf balls were smacked off of the rooftop while daytime watch was going on, but only if there was a cigar cindering nearby. Stevie took it upon herself during moments alone to go through the record collection. Of course. While she still had her phone loaded with plenty of music she so dearly loved, it nearly grieved her to switch it on out of habit and be reminded of a previous life that was now required to seem distant, or even non-existent. Clunky records were a lot of fun to work with. She ended up dragging the record player and a stack of albums with her to the bedroom she'd picked to sleep in. It was a nice indulgence.

Stevie was also delighted in her exploration of the home to discover a closet with fencing equipment--a foil, an ƩpƩe, and even a saber were lined upward with a few mesh masks. Between socializing with the others, spending a considerable amount of time with Thomas, and checking on the still-nameless young woman they had liberated from that awful encounter a few days prior, there wasn't much time to goof off with practicing. She loved fencing, but loved music even more. She still brought the three weapons into her room and hid them under the bed, just in case there was any kind of problem in the house.

# # #

The congestion of walkers clawing at the iron-wrought fence was ominous as they screeched and roared, forcing their hands through the bars but pitifully not making any headway on crossing through onto the massive lawn. Luckily, the horrid smell hadn't permeated much farther so that the house would be disturbed by it.

Thomas and Stevie wandered a few yards away from the gate and stared ahead, standing side by side. He carried his rifle warily while she folded one arm across her chest and chewed the knuckle of her other hand, tilting her head as she examined the poor souls on the other side. "Have you ever been to the zoo," she started thoughtfully, still gazing ahead, "and wanted to see the lions do something really, really interesting, but were disappointed when you figured out that all they do is sleep, sleep, and sleep just a little more?"

Thomas blinked. "I'm sure that everyone in the entire world has been in that tragic position at some point in their life," he answered. "Why?"

She gestured ahead with both arms and grinned a little. "Behold. Our lions."

His expression didn't change. "Those are the ugliest lions I have ever seen." He continued onward.

Stevie laughed through her nose as they proceeded, walking twice as fast to keep up with the far-taller Thomas. "Terrence is on watch tonight, right?" she asked, looking up at the roof.

"I think that's what everyone decided," he answered as he noticed a particularly small child walker working its way through a set of bars, its head, shoulders, and arms beginning to slip through. He waved for Stevie to stay put and sauntered off in its direction and stood in place for a few moments to size up the situation before effortlessly bashing the butt of his rifle against the front of its skull, caving it in gorily. The walker went limp, stuck in the bars.

Stevie winced while watching. She knew it was the right thing to do, but it didn't make it any less difficult to watch. Not to mention that that creature had once been a child.

Thomas must have seen the look on her face. "Better him than us," he said somewhat tersely as he continued on.

"No, no, I know," she said as she caught up with him, worried that she might have accidentally put him on the defensive. "It's just still weird that anyone has to do that."

"It's not, though," he responded, still a little sharp, stepping ahead. "You know what they can do."

She pursed her lip for just a moment and hung back, collecting her composure. He likely hadn't at all intended on reminding her of what had happened on the beach, but it still came to mind after he'd said that. "You're right," she said quickly, not wanting to say anything else for a few moments as they kept treading to survey the fence. She'd wanted very badly to conceal the fact that she was far more sensitive than she really wanted to be, but knew that she had just failed in that. She trailed behind him just slightly, studying the plush green grass under her bare feet in an attempt to distract herself.

The remark made her think of Dean, one of the last things she'd wanted to think about, particularly after spending a lot more time getting better acquainted with Thomas. She didn't feel like outwardly sharing her darker and sadder thoughts on the entire situation, not even with him, not wishing to burden others. It felt much better to make light of it all and share good moments with others. She already did plenty of dwelling on more somber subjects inside of her own mind just fine on her own. In fact, even before the whole ordeal she tended to not share many of her inward thoughts with very many people at all, preferring to instead discuss far more pleasant subjects to cover up any potential perception of her even having any difficulties whatsoever.

Thomas must have seen the next expression on her face before he looked over his shoulder at her, and stopped walking. "I'm sorry," he stated simply after the long pause.

Stevie shook her head. "No, please don't be," she replied. "You're doing the right thing." She glanced along the fence, eyeing the determined walkers reaching out and snapping their jaws from the other side. Truth be told, the only thing that had ever stood between her and them was, in fact, Thomas. She then turned her attention back to him, looking directly into his eyes. She managed a genuine smile. "You've always done the right thing." It was easy to forgive him for the accidental offense.

She watched his expression soften just slightly as he reached out a long arm and draped it around her shoulder. She wasn't much for public displays of affection, but it didn't seem that he necessarily was, either. That was all right. Especially right now.