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Cyan Kress

A soft sigh could be heard from the rear of the group as Cyan glanced around.

0 · 455 views · located in Post-Apocalyptic America

a character in “Bullets, Blades, and Brains”, as played by Scripter

Description




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He heaved a long sigh, waiting for everyone else to finish talking.




The Basics




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Full Name:
Cyan James Kress

Nicknames:
Cy | Jem | The Mute

Gender:
Male.

Age:
17.

Ethnicity/Race:
White/Caucasian.

Sexual Orientation:
Heterosexual.

Prior Occupation:
Student.

Current Occupation:
Scavenger.




What's on the Outside




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Hair Color:
Very Dark Brown.

Eye Color:
Blue-Green.

Height:
5 Feet, 10 Inches (5'10")

Weight:
145 Pounds.

Tattoos:
None.

Piercings:
None.

Scars:
He has a rather large, thick scar under his Adam's Apple, reaching to the sides of his neck from a surgery he had when he was in his freshman year of high school.

Character Color: #009980

Description: Cyan is a rather average individual, with a height of 5'10" and weighing 145 pounds. He is in no way muscular, since 'active' is not really a word that would describe him, but having long limbs and a skinny physique, and his bones in his joints almost protruding. His hair, a mop of unruly brown waves, always seems messy and out of place to his annoyance, no matter how many times he tries to smooth it down. The color of his eyes is from where his name comes from, though they appear purely blue in most lights and rarely his namesake. Even in the hottest of weather, Cyan will not remove his hoodie, now worn and dirtied, since he is rather embarrassed about how skinny and pale he can come across, looking almost sickly to a certain degree. A normal stance for him would be with his hands in his jean pockets and his shoulders stiff, giving off an awkward aura that matches oddly well with his tall-thin body type.





What's on the Inside




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Personality:
{Calm, Quiet, Handy, Pacifist, Weak}

Confrontation is not his middle name. Fighting? He wants to be nowhere near it, doesn't want to see it, and certainly doesn't want to get caught up in it. Cyan is in no shape or form close to being athletic, or even active, being one of those kids who spend their Friday nights held up in their room playing League Of Legends and reading comic books. He tires quickly, is slow at running, and has the wielding force of a twelve year old girl. As you can tell, Gym Class was his ultimate downfall, and he often wiggled his way out of it by hiding in the locker room after attendance. However, because of these reasons, he is a fairly good scavenger, moving quietly at a slow pace to pick at the surroundings, not rousing many zombies in his wake with careful footsteps. Though, he is unfortunately extremely clumsy when rushed, often dropping things, bumping into anything within a mile radius, and generally making a loud racket. Cyan is someone who has to work at his own pace, or nothing will get done.

Cyan prefers the quiet, liking to be left alone most of the time. This is not so much because he enjoys it, but more because he feels that his personality type clashes with the other of the more outgoing ones within the group. Though, he does pride himself on being more of a peacemaker, since he does not weigh heavily on his own opinions and is very open to someone else taking lead or making corrections. Cyan can be thought of as a very weak link in the group. His communication skills are nonexistent, for very obvious reasons, and he will opt out of any confrontation that may come his way. However, he is very good with his hands, a true Mr. Fix It, as long as the fixing doesn't involve excessive effort or heavy lifting.

Hobbies:
Photography | Video Games | Reading | Harassing His Sister's Many Boyfriends

Habits:
Scratching at the scar on his throat, sometimes to the point where it starts to bleed. | Avoiding eye contact during conversation (More like when people are talking to him.) | Chewing on random small items he might have in his hands. | Keeping his head down to help hide his scar. (A habit from his school days so people wouldn't ask him about it.)

Oddities:
Mute | His scar causes him some discomfort at times, making it harder for him to swallow or even breathe. | He flinches away from loud noises or yelling.


Likes/Loves:
  • Sweets.
  • Children.
  • The Internet.
  • Comic Books.
  • Family.
  • Warm Weather.
  • Soft Things.
  • Video Games.
  • Listening to Others Talk.
  • Books/Art/Theatrics
Dislikes/Hates:
  • Loud Noises.
  • Rude/Nosy/Stubborn People.
  • Sour Things.
  • Blood.
  • Violence.
  • Arguing.
  • Weaponry.
  • The Cold.
  • Misunderstandings.
  • Being Anxious.





What Makes Us Special




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Strengths and Weaknesses

Character Skills/Talents:
  • Peacemaker/Comforting.
  • Excellent Hearing.
  • Good With Repairing.
  • Hardworking.
  • Following Others.
Character Flaws/Weaknesses:
  • Clumsy.
  • Unable to Speak/Sometimes Causes Misunderstandings.
  • Refuses Confrontation.
  • Generally Unable to Do Any Labor-Intensive Work.


Secrets:
He is prone to Panic Attacks, but can hide them fairly well. | He thinks its pretty cool, the whole apocalyptic thing. It's just like in the video games! But just doesn't like that its happening to him personally. | He has his little sister's teddy bear tucked into the bottom of his backpack.

Fears/Phobias:
Acousticophobia- Fear of loud noises. | Algophobia- Fear of pain. | Necrophobia- Fear of death.




What's Done Is Done




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Biography


Place Of Origin: Georgia, USA.

Birth Date: October 5th.

History:
Cyan lived a very normal life, he would like to think. He got average grades, had a small group of friends, and had a serious addiction to raising havoc on his sister's many boyfriends. You know, just regular old normal stuff. A small town in Georgia was where most of his youth resided, one of those places where everyone knows everyone else, and you can't do jack without someone blabbing it to your parents. It was quiet there, a real Halmark Moment kind of place.

Later on, his mother, who had been raising both her children on her own, obtained a job up in New York that paid very well. Not wanting to miss this opportunity, they packed up and headed up there for a new life. Things fell back into their flow, the kids when to school and their mother worked to support them all. All peachy-keen until Cyan started to develop pain within this throat during his freshman year of high school. At first it wasn't really thought of as a big deal, these kind of things tend to be brushed off with a couple of Tylenol and a short nap, so nothing was done. That is, until the pain became crippling, and Cyan had begun to have trouble speaking or swallowing. Seeking medical attention, Cyan was told that he had a rare tissue-eating disease that was currently feasting upon his vocal cords and inner throat. It was most likely caused by a kind of bacteria that had made its way into his blood from an open wound, but was just now appearing.

Surgery was ensued quickly, since this disease was breaking holes in his internally, causing some internal bleeding. Cyan was patched up, everything fixed, leaving only a long scar on his lower throat. But, his vocal cords had been ruined, and if he didn't want to go around sounding like a cyborg for the rest of his life, he was to be categorized as a mute. Any attempt at talking causes him extreme pain and no sound will be produced.

After such, Cyan started to shut himself away from the world. In his mind, not being able to speak was the same as becoming a completely different person. He began to spend most of his time in his room after that, moving all his life to video games and the internet, since that was much easier than dealing with real people. People assumed, that since he wasn't speaking to them, that he disliked them and was being rude to them. At such a young age, Cyan became rather depressed, not bothering to interact with people at all. It was from the internet when he first started hearing all the rumors and jokes of what the government was cooking up in their basements late at night. Of course there was jokes and memes, and these became the new trend of Tumblr around that time.

Of course, Cyan enjoyed these as much as everyone else, not one to miss a trend that was spreading fast. Everything was so funny, until weird stuff started to happen. The news announcing a strange string of flu that was proving itself fatal, a neighbor coming down with it, passing away, but then later mauling his own wife to death. Things went total shit in a matter of days. As soon a corpses started getting up and walking around, Cyan was on par. He's seen the movies, and he was certainly not going to be that one guy who died in the intro credits. He grabbed his sister, packed both of them a bag, and was dragging her out of the house to the nearest bus station as she called him every name in the book that was even close to 'Crazy'.

There mother had been out that day, gone a business trip to who knows where, leaving Cyan to take care to Winter, his younger sister. And, by god, he was not going to face that wrath of telling his own mother that Winter had become Premium Zomb-Chow. That was a conversation he would not walk away from unscathed. The bus' loop only ran as far as the outer parts of the packed cities, though there wasn't as many buildings and the population was less dense.

The days after that were strange and a blur. It seemed like everyone was falling dead around them, and they had nothing more than a swiped metal bat that he had 'borrowed' from someone's lawn. Somewhere along the way, Winter disappeared. Cyan searched all day for her, and later, he wished he hadn't. She had turned, been bitten when he wasn't looking and barreled right toward him with animal-like movements. He had almost been bitten, but somehow luck had been in his favor, and a well place blow to her head with his bat rendered her dead. Or... More dead.

He had killed his own sister, his baby sister...

Racked with grief as he stared down at the corpse, he was stumbled upon by a scavenger. They were from a small group, telling him that they would welcome him if he had nowhere else to go. He agreed after some resistance, only taking enough time to carefully pull the backpack off his sister's back and put it on his back.


Family Tree
Mother | Anna Kress | 37 | Whereabouts Unknown
Sister | Winter Kress | 16 | Deceased


Happiest Memory: Once, when his sister was fourteen, she had brought home a boy who didn't seem like he was interested in anything other than getting into her pants. So Cyan, being the great big brother he was, decided to harass the boy. It had been mid-winter and had been snowing for days at the time, and so Cyan filled a bucket full of ice water and positioned himself up on the roof above the front doorway. When said boy exited the house, Cyan proceeded in unceremoniously dumping the entire contents of the bucket of icy water on the kid's head. Long story short, that boy never did talk to Cyan's sister again, she didn't speak to Cyan for a month, and Cyan laid on the roof laughing for two hours straight at the look of utter horror that had been on that punk's face.

Saddest Memory: Cyan had become really depressed when he first had been told he would never speak properly again. He had been one of those people who loved to laugh and shout, telling loud jokes and yelling hellos to his friends. In his mind, being mute meant the end of who he was, his whole personality taking a 360 degree turn and becoming very within himself. He rarely interacted with anyone after that, his sister being the only one he truly liked being in the presence of. During these times, he would often sit on her bed, listening to her blather on to her friends over the phone about whatever teenage girls talked about and messing around with her favorite teddy bear to cure boredom.



So begins...

Cyan Kress's Story

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Character Portrait: Art Character Portrait: Cyan Kress Character Portrait: Nathan Durand
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The only sound coming from one of the central tents was a small, slow scratching. A pencil being dragged across a dirty piece of lined paper with no real intention besides making noise. Cyan was not in the best of moods that morning, all of his joints stiff from cold except his writing hand, which was busied by the eye-blurring task of tracing over his past conversations on a sheet of paper repeatedly. The words were now so dark, they looked like they might as well have been written in pen, and the they might as well be burned into his memory for eternity. Shifting slightly in the thick blanket he had wrapped around himself like a cocoon, he started to stretch out his long limbs and get them to cooperate for the day to come. Cyan had abandoning all fear of looking completely stupid in his fleece-filled heaven hours ago, in hopes to at least save up some warmth for the day to come in this freezer box. Really, who likes cold weather anyway? It has to be the worst thing in existence and was the main reason he regretted leaving the south. Though, the hellish weather aside, his mood probably wouldn't have been all the bad if he had gotten some precious sleep. He was a good sleeper, but the noises (And the very excessive chatting of his tent buddy, Minnie.) of that night were driving him to the point of insanity.

Out of the open slit of the tent, weak rays of sunshine shone through, warming the insides ever-so-slightly. Crumpling up the paper into a crude ball, tossing it aside, and stuffing a small notebook into his pocket, Cyan started to move slowly out of his cocoon. Which, of course, he immediately regretted and yanked back around his shoulders in a hurry, pushing things around in the tent clumsily to try and find his backpack, containing his stretched out hoodie. Minnie turned over in her sleep, making him freeze, not wanting to wake her and bring on a new wave of ear-burning chatter. She was nice and all, but, goodness, the little lady could talk your ears off.

Image He had no idea why he thought it was a bright idea to remove his hoodie the night before, but now he was seriously regretting that decision as he reached over the sleeping woman to his pack. Unzipping it was painfully slow, the sound far to loud in Cyan's ears, but he was soon rummaging through the contents. Art's old Gameboy sat among the things in the bag, sat beside a very sad looking teddy bear, still yet unplayed. He felt a bit bad thinking that he would be wasting her battery life, but his resistance was fading quickly at the idea of battling some Gym Leaders in the night. Upon finding the worn, grey piece of fabric among the junk, it was yanked over his head, along with some plain shoes on his feet, and he was crawling his way out into the open.

It was no warmer outside, to Cyan's annoyance, and he contemplated going back and getting the blanket. Inevitably, he decided against it, wanting to save at least a bit of the dignity he had left. Instead, he pulled up his hood, the pencil he had tucked behind his ear threatening to fall, and shoved his hands deep into his jeans' pockets before wandering toward the sound of voices. He didn't bring much to the table when it came to conversations, but he was a damn good listener in the long run. Coming up from behind Art, he stood silently, towering high over her in stature. He eyed her basket of oranges hungrily while she was distractedly talking to Nate. Trying to go unnoticed, really just not wanting to strike up a conversation, he snagged an orange from her basket without a word. But, in his haste, he bumped her arm, throwing all acts of stealthiness out the window, and ending it all with a long sigh.

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Character Portrait: Art Character Portrait: Cyan Kress Character Portrait: Nathan Durand
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His hands moved deftly over the metal of his Winchester Model 70. As Oakley curled up around his feet, head resting on her paws, Nate settled back into the chair and wiped the inside of the barrel with an old towel he'd picked up at the last town they drove through. It wasn't the best option, for the lint it left behind didn't help him at all. The towel was already black with carbon before he'd begun. It only made it harder to tell if he was getting anything out of the barrel or if his efforts were in vain. Perhaps he'd wash it out later today if they passed a stream while hunting. Nathan stood slowly, his calf aching. He'd certainly need to stretch before going out. He hobbled to the back of his car and pulled out a bottle of solvent which, when he sat back in his chair, he sprayed into the barrel.

While he let it sit, Nate reached for another handful of strawberry Frosted Mini Wheats. They'd probably be better with milk, he mused. But, where was he going to find milk? Sure, there were probably farms around here, but Nate had not the slightest clue as to how one milked a cow. He shot a glance at the pieces of his gun and sighed. Wendy would have yelled his ear off if she knew he was leaving guns out in the open when there were kids in the camp. Times had certainly changed, though. The biggest worry in a kid's life before was receiving a good grade. Now, it was whether or not they'd live to see another day.

He was munching slowly on a single Mini Wheat when Oakley looked up suddenly, the muscles near her ears moving so that she could hear better. A blurred shape raced to him, white and gray and close to the ground. He tensed and raised the box of cereal above his head subconsciously, as if he'd much rather protect his food than himself. Realizing it was Kela, Nathan grinned and relaxed again. Oakley eyed the other dog, upper lip curling upward once before she finally relaxed.

"Hello there, girl," he said, scratching beneath her chin gently as the pup rested her head on his legs which had been clad in navy blue sweatpants since the previous night. He was fondling one of her ears when Art spoke up.

"You're just super popular with all the ladies, huh?" Nathan, returning her smirk, looked up at Art as she walked toward him. Without even thinking about it, he hugged her back with one arm, for the other one still held his cereal.
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"Well, I certainly don't like to brag," he replied, the semi-arrogant smirk spreading across his lips. "I've never had trouble with the ladies." Oakley seemed to calm as Kela ran off to the dying fire. The red wheaten colored dog settled her head back on her paws, only to look up suddenly again when the orange came flying into Nate' lap.

"Orange? We'll need our Vitamin C if this winter is anywhere as wild as last year's." Nate nodded, his smile faltering for a moment as he recalled the snowfall of the previous years. How many times had he cleared his car off, only for it to be covered by the next storm? Wendy stayed home from work many of those days. They were already on bad terms with each other by then, so it certainly didn't help that they had to deal with each other for days at a time with no respite. Nathan tore at the orange, jaw clenching slightly.

"Damn, I hope not," he said simply. Holding both arms of the chair, he painfully stood and limped toward his car with the box of cereal still in hand. He hardly folded it before tossing it into the back of his Jeep. He pressed his palms against the back window of the Jeep and leaned into it as he stretched both legs. "I know I'll be happy to be back in the South. Have you ever been to North Carolina?" The Southern state held such sweet memories. How weird it would be to drive down there for a reason other than to visit his parents. He stopped stretching suddenly, brow furrowing. He'd never visit them again.

Nathan looked up at Art, frowning subtly, and spotted the Mute just behind her, grabbing for an orange. He wouldn't have said anything, for the boy obviously was avoiding conversation, had he not bumped into Art. "Morning," he said quickly, standing upright again as he stretched his arms over his head and yawned. He didn't associate much with the boy, because he honestly couldn't tell whether the Mute was or wasn't listening to him.

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Character Portrait: Art Character Portrait: Cyan Kress Character Portrait: Nathan Durand
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"Well, I certainly don't like to brag – I've never had trouble with the ladies." Art didn't bother biting back the cheeky smile that curled across her lips as she gave a nod. “With a face like that, I'd think you were lying if you said you did.” It wasn't completely outlandish for the two to flirt, but that was pretty much all it was. She liked to think that the two of them were friends even though it wasn't uncommon for him to find her optimism annoying every now and again. It was harder to annoy her though. She didn't even really get mad – Ever. Like Cyan and Raz, she did her best to adapt to the apocalypse without going mad and turning into an uber jerk. Not that she thought Nate was a jerk. Nate was always pretty nice to her most of the time.

Image"Have you ever been to North Carolina?", Nate asked. She had, actually. It was a nice place and she loved the farms out there though she had never been there for luxury. “Yup – At least twice a year for the past six years. Dance competitions and whatnot.” While she generally didn't openly talk about what she did before the world became hell on earth, she didn't mind talking about her past so long as people stayed away from her life up until the age of sixteen. She hated lying and she hated her life up until that point. Robyn and the Cortez kids were the only ones who knew; Robyn knew because Art saw her as a mother and knew that it was unhealthy to keep things in. Robyn even knew that she used to be a stripper. The Cortez kids knew because she used to hang out with them all the time when they were trying to avoid going home. She related to them.

But that's all depressing to think about. Jeez – He had only asked her if she'd been to North Carolina – No need to reflect back on her entire life just yet. So yeah, she confirmed that she had been there while hinting at bits of her past, having never really discussed it with Nate before. Cyan, on the other hand, knew more about her. Raz did too. Because they tended to often hide out in her Rogue, one of the tents, or out in the woods to get in some game time. They were heroes, those gamers. Saving their world from zombies, Hyrule from Ganandorf, Disney Worlds from Heartless, and pokémon worldwide from the various crime syndicates. They went above and beyond the call of duty and asked for nothing in return. Truly, the world had been left in good hands.

She was about to say something, offer to head out on an early morning hunt with him, but she felt someone brush against her arm and Nate followed with greeting the person in unison with Kela barking. She turned to see Cyan there, offering her second hug of the day and her usual friendly smile. “Welcome to the party.” She had picked a somewhat dull red apple from the basket that was now sitting on the ground, biting into it. It tasted like a green apple, but it was still juicy and crunchy so she couldn't complain. With winter already on their tails, she couldn't be picky with her choice of fruits and vegetables available as long as they weren't rotten. She noticed that Cyan had snagged an orange and wondered for a moment if he hadn't wanted to be seen. “So – How'd you boys sleep?” She moved so that she wasn't standing between them, opting to instead sit on the ground beside Kela. There wasn't much left to toss onto the dying fire, but she managed to work up a nice small roaring fire that was good for cooking small things and certainly keeping her small hands warm.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Chloe Simmons Character Portrait: Art Character Portrait: Cyan Kress Character Portrait: Nathan Durand
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If you would have asked her if she was a morning person before this hell on Earth shindig - which really put a dapper on all of her morning plans and actually being normal...not that she was particularly normal or anything; she still watched Tom & Jerry and Adventure Time for goodness sake and could probably tell you every character off of Supernatural - so not the point. Damn, even in her head she babbled, Chloe mused and sealed the nail polish bottle in her bag.

Chloe Simmons had never been a morning person.

In fact, before all of this, she was probably one of the crabbiest people you'd ever meet in the morning. She preferred starting her mornings with Chai tea infused with some vanilla creamer (coffee was definitely not as great as coffee-holics made it out to be) even though she liked English Breakfast Tea better. She would have to have two steaming cups before even considering hopping in the shower. Even then, under the hot spray of water and the scent of vanilla from her body wash, she truly contemplated calling a sick day every single day. Mornings just weren't her thing. However, ever since she watched one of her best friends turn into a zombie and proceed to kill her, sleeping in stopped being a part of her plan.

Instead, on mornings like these when no one was particularly busy or needed her, she would entertain herself - do something. Like right now, how her nails just finished drying, a bright bubblegum pink shade that brought out the color in her light complexion. Chloe glanced around the tent, noting that most were still sleep or just getting ready to awaken. So, she pulled out her tablet from her bag. Luckily for her, half a battery still remained. She didn't even want to consider pulling out her laptop; the battery was still full and she didn't want to waste it. Chloe sighed, turned her tablet on, and proceeded to play Tetris.

After a good fifteen minutes of cognitive challenging with a sprinkle of fun, Chloe sighed rather loudly and turned it off. Decidedly, she removed herself from the warm and thick blanket she managed to procure, stood, and stretched lithely. While not the most flexible person in the world, Bikram Yoga worked wonders on her slim body and was rather loose in the bones. Satisfied and partially awake, Chloe grabbed her scrunchie and gathered her long hair in her hands, raking slender fingers through the soft locks until she finally tied the scrunchie around it. Once that was done, she pulled one of the sweaters given to her by Robyn, slid on boots they found at their last location, and then continued out of the tent.

If there was anything the others probably gathered from Chloe was that colder weather did not bother her. She was a Northerner at heart; the cold and her just got along. Besides, she spent the majority of it either curled up with a good book and tea or actually playing outside with her sister. Thinking of her sister sent a pang to her heart and Chloe shut her eyes at it, shaking her head. She hated being one of the more emotional ones. Finally, her eyes fell on the small group that had formed near Nathan's car. Chloe walked towards them determinedly, not exactly trusting herself to walk off in any other direction lest she procure the attention of the zombie.

Definitely don't need to be danger-prone Daphne first thing in the morning.

"Morning, guys. Sorry if I'm interrupting," Chloe added the last part just to be nice as she felt like she did just walk into the middle of a conversation. She smiled at Art, Nathan and Cyan as brightly as she could, lips still holding onto the remnants of the magenta hue of the last lipstick she used even though she had resorted to just using her lip balm lately. "How are you guys?"

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Chloe Simmons Character Portrait: Art Character Portrait: Cyan Kress Character Portrait: Nathan Durand
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"Morning." The sudden greeting from the solider made Cyan flinch, caught off guard and almost dropping his newly swiped orange. It felt like he just got caught red-handed, taking from Art's basket silently, planning to just scamper off unnoticed afterward. Or maybe it would be orange-handed? Either way, it put a serious kink in his plan, though, Nate didn't seem very much interested beyond the basic greeting.
Image Which was perfectly fine, since Cyan didn't particularly like associating with Nate for too long. It wasn't like he disliked the older man, but Nate's personality reminded Cyan of the jock-types back at his high school. It was basic fight-or-flight instinct for someone like himself, a geeky kid who would always choose the latter over the former option, to want to steer away from that kind of person, right? At least that's what he told himself.

Even if that was how he felt, being rude was never an option. Cyan solemnly nodded in return to Nate, though the solider had already turned his attention to his stretches. Saving him from the ever awkward 'Unrecognized Gesture' was Art, turning around to give him a hug, which was returned with a bit less vigor than herself, and a bright smile, "Welcome to the party." Unlike Nate, Cyan felt really comfortable around Art, often chatting about games and movies with her and Raz in their free time, so he had no problem returning the smile earnestly. He moved back a bit to make space, feeling a bit cramped, and leaning against the door of one of the cars in their makeshift protection ring. He moved his attention to the task of ripping open that orange with frosted fingers, half wondering if it would be frowned upon to stab it with his pencil for some assistance."So- How'd you boys sleep."

Awful. He hadn't slept a wink thanks to the chatterbox that was Minnie, and all the things that happened to go bump in the night, but he wasn't about to say that. Or... Write that? Motion? Whatever, technicalities. Either way, not needing to bitch and moan, he nodded enthusiastically, as if to say he slept very well, before Cyan, having peeled most of his orange, wasted no time to start popping segments into his mouth, wincing a bit as he swallowed at the bitter-sweet taste. The citrus kind of burned his throat in an unpleasant way, but it tasted so good. He continued. Polishing it off, he plunged his hands back into his pockets, his fingers brushing over his notebook, having lost all feeling in them prior. Looking down at his feet, he started mentally willing them to be warm. This would be the time he would kill to be a Jedi, using The Force to create some kind of warming friction. Or... Maybe being a superhero would be better. Lamer heroes like The Human Torch and The Flash were looking pretty sweet right about now to be honest.

Cyan looked up from his feet only when Chloe approached, joining the little sub-group of survivors in their morning get-together. Morning, guys. Sorry if I'm interrupting. How are you guys?" A smile and slight nod was all he could muster in his half-frozen state. He probably would have written something down by now, maybe making some attempt to speak with them, a 'Hello' or 'No, you're not interrupting.', but his fingers were frozen, and, to be completely honest here, he was a tad lazy when it came down to it. So, silent he stayed.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Chloe Simmons Character Portrait: Art Character Portrait: Cyan Kress Character Portrait: Nathan Durand
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"Oh Rasul, you're so smart and handsome." Rasul's head rested on the lap of a beautiful bikini clad woman, the warm sun heating the sand around them, the crash of the waves a lovely melody. He didn't know where he was but he simply didn't care. He hummed happily, contented smile on his face as she cooed at him. "Oh Rasul... Raz, Raz. Raz. RAZ WAKE UP."

Rasul groaned as he was shook awake, "Noooooo don't go bikini lady come back." He whined as he felt himself gaining consciousness.

"Wait what?"

A loud drone of a groan escaped Rasul. He now knew where he was, and instead of being warm he was fucking freezing his balls off, even though he was rolled up in three blankets. "Why couldn't you just let me spend more time with the bikini lady man, we were on a bEACH Harold a BEACH." Rasul cried out, distraught at having to face the reality of another day and deciding to take it out on his tent partner, Harold.

Image"Because you have to fix the mustang before we can leave remember? It keeps making that funny noise. Besides you were the one to tell me to wake you up early." Harold reminded Rasul, which caused Rasul to let out these obnoxious whining noises of displeasure. It was true, Raz had work to do. He was the group's go to person for fixing everything, and the only one that was any good at helping him was Cyan. Him and Cyan, the group's handymen. It wasn't just fixing things that Rasul accomplished though, he also wanted to make some modifications to the cars, already some of them had their windows reinforced with metal mesh, just in case the windows broke. Unfortunately his blow torch was out of fuel now, he could perhaps do some more proper modifications once they got south where it was warmer.

Rasul proceeded to get dressed under the covers as best he could, shimmying this way and that, the whole ordeal ridiculous looking and taking more time than necessary. Once he finally accomplished this, which seemed not even necessary since the clothes he changed into weren't the cleanest, Rasul headed out. He waked funny, his body all crampy from sleeping in a tent, he had to stretch this way and that to try and regain some normalcy of his joints. "Burr!" He made a straight bee-line towards the red mustang. "Here's my problem child, let's see what's wrong with you honey." Rasul popped the hood and stared at it for a good moment, clicking his tongue. "I forgot my tools." He shut the hood of the car and walked over to Art's rogue. He didn't want to wake her but he really needed his tool box. "Sunshiiiinnnnneeee." He knocked on her windows, cupping his hands to look inside, not there. In the morning he wasn't always there, he was definitely slower, so it took him a bit to notice that Art was not too far away.

"Goodmorning beautiful!" He approached the group surrounding Nathan's car with his arms wide open, acting like he was expecting a hug. He evaded Art with a sudden turn however and greeted her dog instead. "Aaahahahah! I was just kidding Art. Got you though eeeyyyyy." Rasul laughed at his own hilarious antics, finally giving Art the hug she deserved. "And a good morning to everyone else present, Cyan you beautiful bastard, I would stay but I need to go fix the mustang real quick. I just need Art's rogue unlocked so I can get my tools. Pretty please?" He put his hands together, giving Art a pleading look.

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Character Portrait: Chloe Simmons Character Portrait: Art Character Portrait: Cyan Kress Character Portrait: Nathan Durand Character Portrait: William Andrews Character Portrait: Rasul Hendricks
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"C'mon boys, keep up the pace." William said as he continued walking at a brisk pace. There were two men behind him, Pvt. Genthner, and Pfc. Kayas. They continued after William, checking all of the possible places a zombie could unexpectedly run out of.

They'd just walked away from a major engagement of their platoon. It was only a matter of time before their platoon would be overrun. It was decided by 1st Sgt. Neil Munoz, that he, Lt. Andrews, would take a couple men and go find help from the rest of the company. Their radios had gone haywire recently, which was why there were communication problems between bodies of troops.

"You sure we're going the right way Lieutenant?" that was Kayas.

"Well Private, do you know where to go?" There was no answer from the GI. As they continued, they found a boarded up clothing store. "Let's take a short break here." William said. "I'm tired too you know." as he said this, he tried the door, and found it to swing right open. The company walked in cautiously and took seats on the floor.

"Do you really think we should be resting here Lieutenant?" it was Pvt. Genthner this time. "I mean...our guys could be...you know..."

"Well honestly, I don't see the point of letting ourselves tire to the point that we can't even raise our gun points." he replied. "Don't worry Private, we'll get help in time." "Get help? What a joke, there wasn't even a good chance that any of them would even survive for much longer. They were all gonna die, and he was the only one who could at least let the troops die a confident, heroic death."

It was then, when they all heard, or more felt, movement. The group raised there weapons and were greeted by a miniature horde of zombies. "Shit!" screamed Kayas firing his weapon on full auto.

"Don't waste your ammo!" William yelled over the gunfire, firing his own weapon on burst. "And don't let the damned things get to you!"

"Ah!!!" Genthner screamed as a zombie grabbed him. He pushed it away and nailed it with the butt of his gun.

"Careful private!" William yelled. "Let's get the hell out of here!" The company inched backwards towards the exit, until a couple zombies finally broke through. They indulged in Genthner's flesh as he screamed at the top of his lungs.

"Get the hell out of here Lieutenant!" Kayas screamed re-assuming a crouching position.

"Wait! Wha-? Kayas cut in on the middle of his sentence.

"You know damn well that some captain won't listen to a lowly Private! And you know just as well as I do that both of us aren't gonna get out of here alive! Now get the hell out of here while you still can!" to add emphasis, the Private first class inserted a fresh magazine. Stunned, William listened to the words of the GI and ran out of the building.

As he continued running, he swore he could here the Private's screams...




William jolted awake inside of his tent. Coren was still asleep next to him, but it was already daytime. He looked around the tent for the Winchester model 1894 he'd picked up after he'd ran out of ammo on his personal fire arm. It was there, so feeling reassured, he unzipped himself from his sleeping bag. Not even bothering to wake Coren up, he crawled out of his tent and towards the group.

"Hey everybody..." he said approaching the group assembled.

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Character Portrait: Chloe Simmons Character Portrait: Art Character Portrait: Cyan Kress Character Portrait: Nathan Durand Character Portrait: William Andrews Character Portrait: Robyn Dempsey Character Portrait: Rasul Hendricks
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Light was shining through the mesh of her tent and that was the first thing Robyn was aware of when she awoke to the sound of movement outside. The beam of sunshine, filtered through the trees above, seemed to burn her eyes as she opened them reluctantly. It wasn't that she hated mornings, she just didn't like breaking camp. Every day they moved further South was another day further from her daughter. That was, of course, if her daughter was still alive. But, Philipa-- or rather, Hero, for her despised her first name and insisted on her middle name-- was a tough cookie like her mothers. Perhaps she had made it out alive. Robyn knew she shouldn't be negative.

She'd left her phone on her pillow, and she checked it now for a missed call. Nothing. Yawing, the ginger sat up and stretched her arms over her head as far as they would go. The tent wasn't quite high. Robyn grabbed her hair and held it in a bunch as, deftly, she worked it into a bun with an old hair tie. She'd been dressed in sweatpants and two hoodies since last night. Over that, Robyn had had a blanket, but now that the sun was shining into the tent, it felt much warmer than the night before. Out of habit, she hummed a tune under her breath while pulling sneakers on over her socks. Beverly had once yelled at Robyn for humming in the morning, so she'd stopped. As soon as she stopped, the blonde began to complain about how quiet it was in the mornings. She never complained about the humming again.
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She pushed herself through the tent flap and cringed at the cold. The double sweatshirts certainly didn't help fight the cold as much as she thought they would.

"Good morning, fellow campers," she said in a chipper morning, followed by another yawn. It was a very light, happy greeting, but everyone in the camp knew the circumstances were far from light or happy. "Everyone sleep well?" She looked over all of the "campers" and smiled broadly. She'd known them only a few weeks at most, but they were already her family in so many ways. She pushed a strand of hair that had fallen from her bun back behind her ear. She chewed lightly at the inside of her cheek. "I was thinking we'd head out in a few hours. I think we all want to get away from this weather."

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Nate chuckled to himself at Art's response. "You flatter me," he remarked, winking at her. They were flirting emptily, both of them knew it. Yet, he'd be lying if he said he didn't truly enjoy these interactions. Art could be unbearably optimistic at times, but he found it hard to bear any ill will toward her. His wife had been the same way, and he'd been the same way before his injury. No one, it seemed, could really say they hated her and mean it. It would certainly be nice to have such a relationship with the others, he mused, but Nate knew that he had to keep up the harsh exterior he'd adopted. At least he felt it let the others know he was a force to be reckoned with, not an injured war veteran.

"At least twice a year for the past six years. Dance competitions and whatnot." Nate nodded and crouched down to tie his shoes tighter. It seemed impossible in this weather to imagine the warm, summer air or the feel of the waves pushing and pulling at him. It all just felt so surreal-- was he really never going to spend a lazy day on the beach again? How could he, really, with an army of the undead around every corner? "It's one hell of a place to grow up in," he replied, though a bit softer than he'd spoken before. "Damn I miss it." He wasn't quite sure if Art had heard him, for she then acknowledged Cyan, who almost dropped his orange. He struggled to keep himself from chuckling at the boy's misfortune. Eventually, he failed, and a sly smirk played on his lips. Turning away, Nate opened the back of his car and began stuffing bullets and knives and pistols into a backpack.

The world nowadays was too quiet for his liking. It wasn't that he liked the commotion; he certainly didn't enjoy it at all. The silence, however, greatly contrasted the constant babble on heard in New York, no matter what time of day it was. Just as he'd been getting used to it, the country (or, perhaps, the world) fell silent. The silence was unnerving, too. Small sounds felt amplified, and there were nights when he woke with a start to the sound of Oakley barking softly in her sleep or another group member weaving between the hoard of tents.

So, how'd you boys sleep?" Nate shoved a few granola bars into the bag and then closed the hatch. As he looked toward Art, his gaze lingered on Cyan, eyes quickly looking the boy over as if inspecting him, even though they'd been in the group together for a while-- or, actually, two weeks. Time moved slowly in the apocalypse, however. "Like a baby." He was lying. He couldn't be the only one who still slept uneasily. How could he sleep soundly? Two of his children were missing, and he'd seen the other one die in his arms after he'd killed his own parents. These thoughts came to Nate in the middle of the night, plaguing his mind. If only, if only. "And, uh, you? How'd you sleep?" Before she could answer, the group grew in size with the addition of Chloe.

"Morning, guys, Sorry if I'm interrupting. How are you guys?" Nate leaned up against his car and nodded to the young woman, forcing up whatever remnant of a smile he could. This day certainly wasn't starting off well for him.

"Morning to you, too." He crossed his arms over his chest, cutting the word SOCCER in half, length-ways. "Relatively well." He smiled briefly at his own joke. How could one be okay when every turn brought on the threat of brain-munching, shuffling zombies? Rasul, the computer one as Nate remembered him by, was the next to wake. He was peppy that morning, too peppy, and Nathan rolled his eyes with little subtlety. He wasn't sure what it was, but his earlier mood seemed to have suddenly left him. Perhaps it was the recollection of his past life, or the memory of his daughter dying. Whatever it was, he was angrier than before.
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"Hey everybody..." said a voice from the edge of the group. Nathan looked up as he loaded his rifle and pistols. A sly smirk crossed his lips, coupled by a brief laugh. The younger man outranked him, he was aware of that, but he had far more experience than the Lieutenant.

"Morning, Lieutenant," he replied, slinging his backpack over a single shoulder. "You ready to head out soon for a quick hunt?" He cocked an eyebrow slightly, head tilting to the side like a curious dog's. As he started to get ready to leave, Oakley jumped to her paws and moved to his side, tail wagging back and forth.

He was too busy taunting the younger man, he almost failed to hear Robyn. As he caught her last few words, he turned his head around. Like the rest of the group, Nate viewed the woman, who was only ten or so years his senior, as a motherly figure. His mother, being an active lawyer throughout his childhood, hadn't been much of a mother at all. Robyn was different. She was nurturing and caring. Nate found it difficult to find anything wrong with the woman at all. His wife had once been that loving and tender, but she'd grown distant as he grew bitter with resentment. She was the only one, he felt, that he could be open with. She understood, or at least she tried to understand. He wouldn't say any of this out loud, of course.

That seemed to be Robyn's only flaw, perhaps. She was too open, too soft at times. She wasn't adamant about her opinions, she merely suggested and waited for the others to come to a consensus which, more often than not, was the same as what she'd suggested. He knew moving South was the best decision, but if the others didn't agree, would Robyn have merely let the group stay here to freeze to death? The group needed a tough leader, and while Robyn was greatly respected by each and every group member, Nate certainly couldn't help but feel that she couldn't fill this role. Again, he couldn't say this. He couldn't turn them against him already. Instead, he muttered an obvious observation. "Damn, it's cold. What I wouldn't give for a warm shower and some heat..."

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Character Portrait: Chloe Simmons Character Portrait: Art Character Portrait: Cyan Kress Character Portrait: Nathan Durand Character Portrait: William Andrews Character Portrait: Robyn Dempsey Character Portrait: Rasul Hendricks
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Chloe felt herself brighten a little at Cyan's welcoming smile and offered a bigger one for him. She even managed a smile for Nathan. She would never admit it out loud, but the man actually intimidated her. Could you blame her? She was the suburban child with no experience in the field and a childhood filled with nothing but happiness save for the constant parental verbal disagreements. With Nathan Durand, Chloe was pretty sure it was the complete opposite.

Another inquiry was just at the tip of her tongue, but then Rasul came out with all of his happiness and energy and just not what Chloe needed to hear first thing in the morning. Which sucked because she used to be able to say she was as energetic as he was. She offered him a nod and a smile for the morning before clutching the sweater she was wearing to her body; it was loose enough on her slender arms that she could hide her hands within the confines of the sleeves.

Next came William. Chloe didn't think he liked them. In fact, she knew he didn't. He just gave off that vibe. Not like it intimidated her or anything. In all actuality, she found William...interesting to say the least. He wasn't mean to say the least, but he wasn't the most inviting person in the group - and was this an army/navy/military thing...the whole, I'm-unapproachable-and-you-are-all-not-on-my-level or was she just paranoid?

No, just babbling in my head.

"Good morning, William," she offered with a polite smile and an accompanying wave in his direction.

Not a few seconds later and Robyn was emerging from her tent. Chloe would not hesitate in admitting this, but she was kind of in admiration over Robyn; not just because she was a decent leader and appealed to everyone, but because Robyn was open. Chloe had met several other people within the group that were open, but Robyn just reminded Chloe of her mom and that always left a warm, bittersweet feeling in her chest. Shaking herself out of it, she heard the last bit of what Robyn said and walked over to the older woman.

One of the things she hated was that she wasn't exactly build for this kind of thing. Killing zombies, going after objects needed for the camp while trying not to die - none of things were on the list for things Chloe Simmons could do. However, there was one thing she could do that not many could do better.

Computers.

"Actually, if you're alright with that - I'm just assuming you will be because, let's be real, this is kinda still helpful despite the apocalypse and zombies and the grrrr -" Her hands tended to like to get involved when she spoke, especially when she was a tad bit nervous, and they actually did this little dinasour impersonation when she gave a growl. "But I could probably, ya know, check Facebook or any other social media website. Not because I wanna check mine or anything - why would I wanna do that when we're trying not to get eaten alive? - but because..." She really needed to stop babbling. "Teenagers. Even through any catastrophic event, teenagers will be the most likely to post statuses. I can track the latest ones in the South and see if, ya know, it's safe - or what part of it is safe because nowhere is safe at this point. And then we can head in that direction."

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Character Portrait: Chloe Simmons Character Portrait: Art Character Portrait: Cyan Kress Character Portrait: Nathan Durand Character Portrait: William Andrews Character Portrait: Robyn Dempsey Character Portrait: Rasul Hendricks
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"Morning, Lieutenant," William heard a voice answer. He turned to see the ex-Sargent to be the owner of the voice. "You ready to head out soon for a quick hunt?" the older man said in taunting tone. William really wasn't sure what to make of the ex-soldier, he didn't really get a bad vibe off of him, yet something felt sort of...off.

"Good morning, William," it was the IT girl this time. Before he could have a chance to reply, the group "leader" made her appearance.

"Good morning, fellow campers," she announced. "Everyone sleep well?" she asked with a smile on her face. "I was thinking we'd head out in a few hours. I think we all want to get away from this weather." Although William had to agree on this statement, he didn't completely understand why this women was the "leader" of the group.

In his opinion, it would be much more appropriate for him, or at least that ex-NCO to lead the group. Nevertheless... he thought. I guess I could continue to play it there way, at least for the time being... William couldn't help but think about the need of getting someone on his side. He was already in good relations with Corren, but he knew that when it came to it, Corren would sell him out at a seconds notice.

Maybe it would be a good idea to get on that veteran's good side... Yeah I'll be ready to hunt, just give me a few minutes. William replied to the veteran. He went back inside his tent to grab his Winchester and some ammo, he strapped a holster onto his hip, and slipped a pistol inside of it. He also put on his body armor under a warm winter jacket. Before he left the tent, he shook Corren awake. Your gonna get left behind if you don't get up soon. he said leaving the tent.

He walked back to the group loading the rifle. The Winchester felt familiar and natural in his hands. William remembered the times he'd went hunting along with his father with the weapon. It held seven shots, was operated by a smooth lever, and had an effective range of around 200 yards. Given to a marksman like him, factoring in that it was an obsolete military weapon, he would still be able to do considerable damage with it.

”I’m ready, but wait up for Corren, he should be ready soon.”

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Nathan and Cyan both expressed that they had slept relatively well, though Art was sure Cy was lying. The insomniac could hear Minnie chatting her head off in a one-sided conversation through most of the night. If there was an aggressive bone in her body Art might have gone and kicked the girl. Okay, probably not. But she would have thrown a shoe at the tent or yelled at the younger girl. Or something. But she didn't. She just ignored her and drowned her out by watching An American In Paris. Art would have gladly invited Cyan to watch with them but then she'd have to invite Minnie too and the last time she watched a movie with Minnie, the girl still wouldn't shut up. She was that one friend you never wanted to go to the movies with. She was a nice girl, definitely. But Art didn't really want to spend too much time around her. Talkative people tended to be people who liked to know things and Art did her best to keep many things about her private.

ImageBefore she could launch into conversation with Nathan and Cyan, it seemed as though everyone decided that it was time to get up – Not that she was complaining. She greeted Chloe with a wave, standing up and preparing to give the other member of the nerd herd [as Art liked to call their little faction within the group] when Rasul made towards her. She had opened her arms as well and was turning to give him a hug... But he veered away and she caught air. It didn't matter how many times he did it, she was probably always going to fall for it. Her face turned red as he came back and gave her the hug she had been expecting [and so rightfully deserved] and she hugged him back with enthusiasm. He was the only other person in the group that she could count on to remain optimistic with her. "And a good morning to everyone else present, Cyan you beautiful bastard, I would stay but I need to go fix the mustang real quick. I just need Art's rogue unlocked so I can get my tools. Pretty please?" Rasul's big brown eyes were pleading and wide, but the sparkle in them was playful.

“Oye, chico. Try not to wake up the kids.” She smiled as she tossed him the keys after fishing them from the safest place a woman could ever stash anything: Right between her breasts. “Don't sniff my keys this time, crazy.” She chucked her keys at him with a friendly grin before returning to her apple. Her gaze followed Chloe's for a moment as William approached and she had the same thoughts. Almost. Creeper. She didn't dislike William. She didn't know him well enough to pass judgment. Which was why he was a creeper. Anybody who didn't want to get to know her was automatically a creeper as far as she was concerned because she was absolutely fabulous. Still, she offered him a polite wave, though no fruit. No fruit for yooou. Her inner voice was really creepy, as she noted to herself while carrying out an internal dialogue. With herself. She wasn't crazy, just animated.

“We should try to stop around a town. Food's running low and winter's going to make it harder to get organics.” And by organics, she meant deer that Nathan and the others had to shoot in the face and grapes she had to go pick. The wasn't sure that cattail soup was going to go over well with the gang when bologna was still an option. Even though she wouldn't touch bologna with a ten foot pole. Nathan used to grouch at her for being a picky eater and not wanting any of his gross Captain Crunch cereal. Yeah. She'd eat that junk just as soon as she choke down smoke from a cigarette. As everyone else seemed to be doing their own thing, she pursed her lips together and puffed up her cheeks. “I'm going to hunt too. Not really. Kela will. I need to get more plant stuffs.” She didn't intend on tagging along behind any of the three men hunting. Per usual, she was going to go her own way so she didn't bother them.

With her mind made up and nobody in the position to stop her, she was gone. Of course, she had emptied her basket of dwindling fruits onto a blanket someone had left out the previous night. She was determined as she made her way towards the tree line, further and further away from her group. Knife? Just a small pocket knife. Gun? Right. She had a gun. The one thing that she had going for her was that she was faster than the others and more stamina. Dancers - They're freakin' awesome. So maybe she couldn't shoot a bulky gun or have the stomach to jab a knife into the decaying brains of a walking, rotting corpse. But man could she run. Kela was padding alongside her. Art actually really enjoyed going hunting with Kela. She used to take pictures of the large dog taking down deer. Absolute elegance. But she didn't have much time for that anymore and she didn't really think anyone else in the group besides herself and Cyan would really appreciate the artistic nature of it.

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Character Portrait: Chloe Simmons Character Portrait: Art Character Portrait: Cyan Kress Character Portrait: Nathan Durand Character Portrait: William Andrews Character Portrait: Robyn Dempsey Character Portrait: Rasul Hendricks
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Shortly after Chloe arrived to their little morning meeting, everyone, save a few straggling souls, seemed to wake at once. Raz was the next to join in, as bubbly and over-the-top as ever, syke-ing Art out of a hug to show affections to her hound. Cyan couldn't help but chuckle, though Art didn't look too pleased with the joke until Rasul gave her the hug she had been offering, "And a good morning to everyone else present, Cyan you beautiful bastard, I would stay but I need to go fix the mustang real quick." Cyan rolled his eyes at the comment in an comically-over-dramatic nature, fishing into his pocket to find his notepad, planning to offer his assistance with the mustang if needed. That was the plan anyway, had it not been for the appearance of the others distracting him, leaving him standing there stupidly, notepad half-out of his pocket.

Image "Hey, everybody." Cyan wrinkled his nose at the appearance of the Lieutenant, coming up from behind Chloe to say his morning greetings. The mute held William in the same regard as he held Nate, not with dislike, but with caution and avoidance. Old habits die hard, what can you do? Though, Cyan had to admit he got a weird vibe from the military men, but that could easily be written off as his own paranoia, which wasn't few and far between as the world gets weirder by the day.

Cyan pulled at the drawstrings of his hood, tightening it about his face, the cold really becoming too much for his little southern soul. Decaying corpses that waltz around in the daylight like its completely normal? Death waiting at every door, around every corner, and ready to jump down on you from above? He could handle that. That was totally okay with Cyan, 'And actually a tad bit awesome...' Somewhere in the back of his mind, his little inner Jiminy Cricket chimed in, at maybe an unnecessary time. Only at the appearance of the mom of the group (Or, at least, Cyan liked to think of her that way.) announcing that she wanted the group to head south was the sweetest sound the mute had ever heard. He had the sudden urge to hug the wonderful red-haired woman. Had he been as outgoing as Ras, maybe he would have, but awkward tendencies got the best of him and he settled with nodding enthusiastically at Robyn's suggestion.

Though, Art did have a point. It will take awhile to get to warmer weather from here, even if they still had cars, it doesn't mean that there aren't going to be things to slow them down. Things like blocked roads and large amounts of Zombs should be taken into account. Hunting and gathering is great, but it just really isn't going to work once it gets too cold, all the fuzzy things going to catch some major Z's and the plants freezing over. Plus, as the rest had suggested, the ones in the group who can hunt should be getting at it while they still could, while the ones who can't should probably make themselves useful elsewhere. Cyan fit in the latter category.

Making his decision, he yanked his notepad all the way out of his pocket, snatching his pencil from behind his ear, and scribbling something down. When he was finished, he held it up to be read, to really no one in particular.

His handwriting was sloppy, written in all capitals and slanting to the point where it looked like the words were trying to run right off the page, but at least it was legible. 'I could go into town while you all go hunting. Pick up some stuff.' Cyan cocked his head to the side, indicating it was more of a suggestion than a definite statement. As an afterthought, he added, 'Need anything in particular?'

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She finished addressing the group and fell silent, looking around slowly at the assembled group. Slowly, Robyn clapped her hands behind her back, in front of herself, and behind her back again to try and alleviate some of the awkwardness her lack of specialty created. She couldn't use a gun, she didn't know what berries could be eaten, and she certainly didn't have much luck raiding ghost town. Robyn's entire career had revolved around merely talking with others. What could a social worker provide in the zombie apocalypse besides drug counseling and a friendly face? She tried hard to prove her capability to the others. She knew that any of the others would make a better leader if she died. Yet, they still seemed to trust her with the job.

Just as the situation seemed to be growing unbearably awkward, Chloe walked up to Robyn and began to gesticulate. Subconsciously, she smiled. Her own daughter had spoken with her hands numerous times. Beverly, too, used her hands to convey thoughts. Both blamed their minor Italian roots. But,, hand gestures aside, Robyn couldn't help but smile even wider at Chloe's idea. It was brilliant, really. Robyn would have never thought of such a thing herself, but Chloe was a computer wizard.
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"D-do you really think so?" her eyes flashed with hope, widening slightly at the idea. Though she knew the blonde had suggested the idea to look into their safety down South, she couldn't help but realize that perhaps her own daughter would be posting online. Maybe she and Beverly had found a nice group to travel with. The thought gladdened her, but only slightly. What if they weren't? "You'll get on that, then? Tell me if you find anything." Robyn flashed another smile and looked toward Art as the Cuban spoke.

"Good point," she replied amicably, nodding quickly. Yes, that certainly is a priority. Who knew what kind of food they'd find when they drove through farmland? For all they knew, grocery stores had been ransacked. So, they'd probably need a way to preserve food, too. Smoking? Salting? Freezing? They'd have to think of that, too. Before she could say any more, Art already began trekking into the woods with her dog. Again, she awkwardly looked around the clearing. There was Cyan, holding up his notepad with some words scribbled on it.

Robyn hated sending the kid off to do things on his own. He was mute, so he wouldn't be able to shout for help, and he wasn't as athletic as the soldiers in the group. Still, he was good at what he did and Robyn commended that even if she wanted to baby him at times. She nodded to Cy and walked toward him, hand raised slightly as if to count off on it. "We'll need some non-perishable food-- actually, any food would do thought non-perishable would last longer-- blankets, water, med-" She cut herself off, realizing her requests were growing ambitious and impossible. "I could drive you into town so we can collect a bunch of things for the trip." She shrugged at her own suggestion, looking to the boy for an answer.

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Cyan was about to forfit his sign, everyone already departing for their hunt and leaving him to stand stupid and alone. However, in the light of gracious purpose, he watched as the leader of their rag-tag group approached him, all prideful stride and mother-like seriousness. Or, at least, that's of he thought of her. Robyn always seemed to know what she was doing at all times, and Cyan really looked up to that. She was like... Well, like a mother, for the lack of a better description, really. But, as she stood before him and started to count off the things they needed, the mute couldn't help but purse his lips in dismay. Blankets were easy, seriously easy. People never seemed to think that the end of the world might be cold. Silly them. So there were piles of those things just laying around old bedrooms and storefronts. Can foods, or just food generally, would be harder. Those were usually the first things to get snatched up in any situation. Well, after useless things like money and jewels. Water and medicine, however... Almost impossible... In every town he's searched, medicine was nonexistent and water was down to two or three lone bottles stashed under some sorry blokes' cabinet.

ImageHopeless or not, Cyan still flipped the page on his notepad and nodded slowly as he jotted down the list like he was going to the grocery store. Everything he wrote was sloppy and capitalized, nearly filling the page just with the select few items. 'WATER | MEDS | BLACKETS BLANKETS | FOODS (ANY)' As an afterthought, feeling over the side of his already depleted notepad with his thumb, 'NOTEPADS + PENS' The list still felt a bit like an impossible stretch as he looked it over one last time.

It was worth a try though, right? Of course there was always something to be found, even if it wasn't exactly what you were looking for in the first place. The icing on the cake to all this was Robyn, bless her almighty awesomeness, offering to drive him down there, like a mother offering to drive their kid to a school football game. Cyan nodded enthusiastically, but held up a finger to her, telling her to hold on a second. He jogged his way to the tent where Minnie and he slept and shimmied his way inside. Minnie was gone, to his surprise since she always slept in late, but it was clear she hadn't left in much of a hurry. Her pack with spilled all over the floor, almost methodically, her hairbrush and clothing every-which-way, and her prized photo album was flipped open to a random page like she had been leafing through it. Cyan sighed, quickly shoving her things back into her pack as fast but neat as he could. That girl really needed to stop doing this, he was starting to feel like her caretaker.

When that was finished, Cyan snatched up his own pack from where he had left it (Need something to carry to the stuff he was going to bring, right? There was no way he was going to make trips from camp to city with every item.) before shimmying his way back out into the cold morning air. Another jog until he was right back where he started, standing in front of the leader (If only slightly out of breath from the short sprint.) and saluting her jokingly to show that he was ready to go. Had he been able to speak, he probably would've said something witty like "Autobots, roll out!"... Er... On second thought, maybe he should leave the jokes to Raz...

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Character Portrait: Cyan Kress Character Portrait: Robyn Dempsey
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Cyan, being one of the youngest of the group, tended to remind Robyn of her own daughter. Not because he was feminine or anything, for she had been quite masculine herself. Instead, just his personality made her think of the young girl. They were quite similar in age, she realized. She noticed this after firing off her list. Cyan's expression of dismay looked almost similar to Hero's. How many times had she given Robyn the same expression in response to their discussions about college? Robyn couldn't help but frown subtly herself. Perhaps that was too much to ask of anyone. Plus, wouldn't others be out and about looking for similar belongings?

She peered over his paper to watch him write. The pages in the pad were dirty, smudged with graphite from continual use. As he added "NOTEPADS + PENS", she smiled. Those shouldn't be too hard to find. How many people actually needed them in the post-apocalyptic world? Her suggestion was met with enthusiasm, and she met it with a broad smile of her own. At least she felt she was contributing to the group this way. While she waited for him to return, Robyn walked around to the driver's side of Nate's Jeep Wrangler and unlocked it via the keyless entry. Nathan kept his keys inside the car, under the passenger floor mat. It was predictable and not very well thought out. He was a smart man, but not a genius. Regardless, Robyn knew he wouldn't mind her taking the car. As she turned the keys in the ignition, the car purred to life. The "leader" let the car warm up for a bit as she returned to her starting position where Cyan was ready to salute her playfully. She did the same, though she might have felt more awkward doing so in front of Nate or William. But, around Cyan, she felt like she could relax much more.

"Ready to move out, kiddo?" she asked, pointing to the Jeep over her shoulder. She didn't bother to wait for a response because she didn't want him to have to pull out his notepad again. Instead, she moved to her side of the car and got in while Cyan did the same. Soon enough, they were driving along the road in the still frigid car back toward a town she remembered passing a while back the day before. "Would you rather I wait here while you grab the things?" Robyn tucked a strand of hair that had fallen from her bun behind her ear. As she waited for Cyan to write up a response, she pulled the car into a parking spot outside of a small pharmacy. Along the streets, a few zombies shuffled. However, it didn't seem like they posed much of a problem. She just prayed they wouldn't run into any large hoards. Sure, she could use a gun...relatively well. If they were cornered, she'd be as good as dead.

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Character Portrait: Cyan Kress Character Portrait: Robyn Dempsey
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His pack secure on his back (A lot heavier than he remembered, and was totally killing his shoulders already.), and his own lame inner monologues quelled, Cyan was more than ready to head out for a morning of scrounging. Physically, anyway. Inside, however, his nerves were jumping through the roof and bouncing all around the walls of his stomach, quiet panic already setting in. But, no one would ever guess that he was a hair's breath from a break down from the playfully cheery smile Cyan wore as he gave his make-shift squad leader a double thumbs-up and a goofy, kid-like grin before climbing 'shotgun' into the car. To be completely honest, long car rides had never been very fun for Cyan. They were only slightly more chest-tightening now. Confined spaces, empty landscaping sweeping past the windows, and a very serious mom-like figure in the driver's seat aren't exactly a calming environment. He found himself wringing his hands tightly far before they stopped in front of the pharmacy.

Cyan leaned forward, squinting to try to see out the windows of the Jeep and into the ones of the small shop, but it was impossible to see past the direct storefront. He sighed rather loudly, yanking out his notepad to jot down an answer for Robyn, "I go alone. Quieter + if it goes south, less injury." Holding it up, the mute waited long enough to make sure she had time to read it before dropping the pad on the floor of the car at his feet. No need for that right now, he wasn't big on stopping to chat with the walking dead. Remembering just then that he had forgotten to empty out of pack before coming, he followed by pulling his pack from his back, unzipping it, and unceremoniously dumping the contents right on top of the befallen notebook. All of it was just a waste of space at this moment and would just limit what he would be able to collect on the run. A few shirts, pens with the caps chewed off, Art's GameBoy, and a scruffy-looking teddy bear that looked like it had seen far better days spilled out, (He took extra care making sure neither the gameboy nor the bear were in any way injured in the tumble.) were all he really had to his name.

'Welp, time to be reckless and stupid.' He let out a long breath, giving Robyn a small salute, trying to look like he wasn't going to toss his cookies. Tentatively, he hopped out onto the pavement, eyeing the shamblers in the distance with caution before jogging lightly to the storefront. He pressed his eyes against the glass, cupping his hands around his face to get a better look. Nothing really seemed particularly menacing, unless you think life-size cutout doctors were frightening. Deciding it safe, in an attempt that was thought to be obviously vain, Cyan tried pulling on the front door. Worth a shot, right? Well, to his ultimate surprise, it actually opened with relative ease.

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The place was trashed. Shelves were overturned, papers and documents that probably held people's personal medical information were thrown every-which-way, and those doctor-cutout-things had probably seen some serious shit in their time. However, Cyan couldn't see any medicine. He shifted through the piles of papers and empty perception bags, but it seemed like the place was picked clean, save one thermal blanket and four unopened bottles of water in which he stuffed into his now-deflated backpack. With the front yielding insufficient resources, he moved to the back, to the thin door right behind the counter. Though, it seems like the owners of the shop, where ever they might be now, had the inconvenient sense to lock the only door leading into the back room, and the window in which medicines were passed back and forth through was far too small for a seventeen year old boy to squeeze into. Completely inconvenient? Yes, but it meant that no one else had touched what was back there, right?

Now, Cyan was no major league hitter... Actually, his six year old niece could probably hit harder than he could. ... But that didn't stop him from picking up a long piece of shelving (You know, the part with the brackets that get screwed into the wall.) from the wreckage and attempting to jam the right-angled end right between where the lock met the wood. The first hit was too feeble, didn't even scratch the paint, but the second was a sure hit. The lock popped out of place just a little, and after a few more good smacks, all the hardware fell out along with the shelf piece in Cyan's hands, both crashing to the floor, and the door drifted open. The loud noise made Cyan pause, not moving a muscle, straining his ears and listening to make sure he didn't accidentally just send of a flare saying 'All-You-Can-Eat, Next left!'.

No moans or groans were audible.

Well, paint him disappointed to see the back no better than the front. Again, papers. So. Many. Papers. Not to mention the god-awful smell the room had. Though, the shelves were still intact, that was a good sign. Pulling his hoodie over his nose to warrant away choking on the smell, he wandering up and down the little rows, looking through each of the bins on the shelves, all of them marked with little letters to organize prescriptions by last names' initials. Most were empty, some had the sick sense of humor of having empty pill bottles in little paper bags, waiting to be filled, and others just had the retched papers. Turning the corner, ready to take on the tedious task of digging through the next row, Cyan came up short. Sitting on the floor, propped up against a shelf was a man. Or, what was left of a man. Oh, true, all of the man was still in the room for sure, but maybe not in the correct order. His entrails splayed themselves out grandly on the floor between was was left of his legs and down the man's not-so-nice-n-white shirt, one arm was at the far end of the row, and his head had been bashed open, brains and whatever else turned to stomach-turning mush. The whole scene made Cyan feel quite weak in the knees, but the severe head wound eased his worry a fraction.

'Never thought you would think that, did you?'

Turning on his heel quickly, Cyan pulled at unchecked drawers at random, no longer wanting to be anywhere near this building. In his haste, he found two prescription bottles for some kind of heavy-duty pain killer that, when shook, rattled with assurance of something being inside, one Mars Bar, a small memo pad, and a handful of pens. But with his haste, he became extremely clumsy, dropping each item multiple times and banging into shelves repeatedly.

Pack slightly more full than it was before, he practically started to run for the door that led back into the storefront. Cyan dashed past the dead man, not daring to spare a glance, wheeling around the corner of the shelving unit and coming face-to-face with molting flesh. Scarcely speaking, really, since the walker barely had a face at all, with no jaw or tongue or even a nose to speak of. It was no wonder he had heard no moans, but the shuffle of its feet was quite loud. How had he not heard it?

If a mute could scream, they would be hearing him in Timbuktu. He reeled back, barely dodging around an outstretching arm and decided now was a good time to get the hell out of dodge, running at full speed toward the door. He crashed through the front in record time, and was back out into the morning light of the parking lot within seconds. Cyan was out of breath as he slammed himself back into the passenger seat of the Jeep, pale as a sheet and hands shaking like a lunatic.

"Leave. Now." The mute wrote on the new memo pad once he had enough control of his hands to write legibly, holding it up for his Leader to see, and pointing to the steering wheel to further prove his point.