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Robyn Dempsey

"A mother knows what her child's gone through, even if she didn't see it herself."

0 · 535 views · located in Post-Apocalyptic America

a character in “Bullets, Blades, and Brains”, originally authored by Scarlet Loup, as played by RolePlayGateway

Description

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"A mother knows what her child's gone through, even if she didn't see it herself."




The Basics




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Full Name
Robyn Lynn Dempsey

Nicknames
She's never really had nicknames besides Ginger and Red Head. Robyn's also been called "Mom" or the mom of the group.

Gender
Female

Age
Fifty-three

Ethnicity/Race:
Irish and Scottish; Caucasian

Sexual Orientation:
Homosexual

Prior Occupation:
Social Worker

Current Occupation:
Unofficial group leader




What's on the Outside




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Hair Color: Her hair is, thanks to her Irish lineage, ginger.

Eye Color: Green

Height: Five feet, four inches

Weight: One hundred, fifteen pounds

Tattoos & Piercings: Robyn has an infinity symbol tattooed on her left, inner bicep. She has the average ear piercings in both ears and a cartilage piercing on her right ear. She once had a nose ring, and the hole still remains though she hasn't worn the ring in ages. Robyn also had her bellybutton pierced, but she hasn't used it in years either.

Scars: She has scrapes and scratches on her knees and hands from falls as a child. She has a deep scar on her left pinky from where she nearly severed it cooking dinner once.

Character Color: #006600

Description: Robyn's appearance simply screams "Irish". She's been blessed with ginger hair that falls just above her chest. Usually, however, it's pulled into a sloppy bun to keep it out of her face. A smattering of freckles fall on her nose and cheeks, but they are also found periodically on her arms and back. Robyn lacks a very intimidating figure, but she has no need for one because who would pick a fight with her? She's average weight for her stature, though she's on the skinny side. Once, she had a multitude of piercings. But, as she matured, Robyn began to use them less and less. Her green eyes, sometimes sympathetic and sometimes piercing, appear all knowing, as if she can read into one's past.





What's on the Inside




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Personality:
{Laid-back, clear-headed, goal-oriented, easily offended, compassionate}

If there was ever a woman made to be a leader in the time of the apocalypse, it would certainly be Robyn Dempsey. She is usually quite laid-back. Rules, she knows, are important, but so are the liberties and rights of others. Generally she believes that as long as it doesn't negatively affect the others, it's probably okay. But, then again, she knows that this isn't always the case. Her clear-headedness in times of stress allow her to think things through rationally whereas others might rely on fight or flight. Robyn has seen enough zombie shows and movies to know that when the people lose their control, they tend to spiral downward. She certainly does not want this to happen, for everyone in the group is like a child to her. She knows this is probably because she misses her daughter so greatly, but Robyn certainly hopes that this is because the others have begun to trust her like a child would a mother.

When confronted or singled out by another, Robyn quickly grows defensive. In college, even though she excelled, she was known as the girl from the slums. However, she usually doesn't snap suddenly. Instead, Robyn kindly asks and slowly increases her voice in volume and her words in intensity to express her anger. She's a goal-oriented woman who refuses to be deterred by any man or woman. Robyn knows they will have to make the move to the South if they want to survive the winter, and she refuses to let sentimentality stop her. She especially refuses to let her own sentimentality keep her from leaving. Robyn usually never regrets life experiences. "Whatever will be, will be" as the song goes. But, she does have her own few personal regrets. There are times when she looks to Nathan and wonders if he truly is capable of leading a group like this. Also, she regrets not pursuing Beverly and Phillipa to try and find them. The days ahead are dark, and Robyn knows this. Yet, she still holds on to shreds of hope and continues to lead her group of rag-tag survivors to a safer home.


Hobbies:
Reading, especially mysteries || Biking || Knitting, though she'll admit she wasn't really good at it || Cooking, though she's never really been good at this either

Habits:
Tends to check her phone every half hour or so in case her daughter calls || Toys with her wedding ring when nervous or bored || Chews the inside of her cheek when she thinks || Speaks softly when she's in "mom mode" || Tends to baby the younger members of the group

Oddities:
Allergic to dogs and bee stings || Abused drugs for a period in her youth || Becomes suddenly upset and depressed at the mention of her daughter and wife


Likes/Loves:
  • Mystery novels
  • Wine coolers
  • Children
  • Random facts or trivia
  • Light rain
  • Fleetwood Mac
  • Green Tea
  • Birds
  • Irises
Dislikes/Hates:
  • Hearing people chew
  • Moist air
  • Non-fiction books or articles
  • Being provoked or singled out
  • Walking around alone
  • Peanut butter
  • Bees and wasps
  • Her hair color
  • Brandy and whiskey





What Makes Us Special




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Strengths and Weaknesses

Character Skills/Talents:
  • Robyn's extremely sympathetic with the other group members.
  • In high pressure scenarios, she's usually able to keep a clear mind.
  • Being in good physical shape allows her to keep up with the younger members of the group.
  • Having navigated New York streets for years, Robyn's a pretty adept driver (contrary to popular stereotypes).

Character Flaws/Weaknesses:
  • Though she's still in very good physical shape, Robyn knows she is aging and worries she'll eventually be a liability.
  • She easily takes offense to harsh words or anything she perceives as an insult.
  • She can not shoot a gun for the life of her. Well, she can, but she has a poor sense of aim.
  • Robyn lacks the ability to lie well, even though she tends to be calm in most situations.
Secrets:
Robyn experimented with drugs through most of her high school career || Sometimes regrets making Nathan her right hand man because of his arrogance || Usually leaves some kind of note wherever they camp so that Beverly or Phillipa can find her later

Fears/Phobias:
Being attacked by a zombie while alone || Seeing a family member as a zombie || Bee stings or wasp stings || Prolonged death (she'd much rather go out with a bullet or something instant)




What's Done Is Done




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Biography

Place Of Origin: Philadelphia, PA

Birth Date: August 18th, 1965

History:
Robyn Dempsey never knew her father. Then again, most of her classmates didn't know their fathers either. She was the second child born to Fiona Dempsey, the ex-wife of a history teacher. Fiona herself was a teacher at a local Philadelphia elementary school. From what her brother told her years later, her father was an abusive man. After finding out she was pregnant again, Fiona mustered up the courage to divorce him. Growing up in the slums of Philadelphia certainly wasn't the best place for young Robyn. But, her elder brother seemed to constantly appear at her side to help guide her through life. Both he and Fiona made sure the young girl excelled in her studies. Life fell into a simple pattern. Though they never had an excess of money, the Dempsey family made do with what they had. When Robyn was twelve, she boldly announced to her mother that she wanted a little brother. Though she was reluctant to bring another member into the family, Fiona adopted Will when he was one year old. Quickly, the young boy fit into the family. In middle school, Robyn began to go out with boys, but this was only because she wasn't even aware homosexuality was an option. Since elementary school, she'd never really been drawn to boys. Her first kiss, in fact, was a peck on the lips with a girl in sixth grade after a dare. By high school, she was fully aware of her sexuality and embraced it. At the end of high school, she graduated top of her class and then attended University of Delaware so that she could become a school social worker. Too often had she met students abused at home or bullied, and it inspired her to help them.

She graduated and moved to New York, settling in an apartment with a few other girls. Luckily, work wasn't too hard to find, and only a few months out of college, she found a decent job as a part-time social worker. On top of this, she moonlighted at bars and took up odd shifts at a book store. For years, she was quite content. And then her friends began to get married. At one of these weddings, she ran into a young accountant named Beverly Patterson. The two talked almost the entire night and exchanged numbers to keep in touch. They became close friends, but things didn't become romantic until the two spent a drunken night out on the town. After that, the two found it difficult to ignore the sudden love they felt for each other. Robyn and Beverly moved into their own apartment together and lived as any married couple would, even though gay marriage hadn't been legalized yet.

When Robyn was 37, she and Beverly decided to try and have a child via donated sperm. It took years of trying, but Beverly was finally pregnant after a year of trying. Phillipa Hero Dempsey-Patterson was born nine months later and became the apple of her mothers' eyes. Robyn floated blissfully along on Cloud 9. Three years ago, her mother died, but her grief was overshadowed by her own wedding. In 2011, she and Beverly were two of the first to get married once gay marriage had been legalized. With a wife, a daughter, and a stable job, it seemed life could not get any better. And it would not.

Robyn was at work when the outbreak began. An odd man was pacing on the lawn in front of the school, so the school was sent into lock down. Police were alerted, but an officer was bitten when he tried to talk to the man. Terrified, Robyn watched the news with worried thoughts running through her mind. At about three PM, still under lock-down, Robyn learned the horrible truth. She frantically called family members, but none of the calls gave her any real closure. Knowing that she had to get out, Robyn snuck into her car and drove off to her apartment, hoping to find her wife or daughter. Both of them were still out. Reluctantly, she gathered food, charged her phone, wrote a note, and left her home. Quickly, she found a group of "refugees" roaming with weapons and vehicles. She joined the chaotic group and quickly became their "leader" simply because she was able to unite them. Since then, she's been wandering with them around New York. She knows, however, they'll have to move out soon. Winter is coming, and that means freezing temperatures.

Family Tree
Mother: Fiona Dempsey || 82 (at death) || Dead
Brothers: Conner Dempsey || 59 || Dead; Will Dempsey || 42 || Unknown
Wife: Beverly Patterson || 44 || Unknown
Daugther: Phillipa Hero Dempsey-Patterson || 16 || Unknown

Happiest Memory: Her happiest memory is when, after years of Beverly trying to get pregnant through donated sperm, they finally received the call saying that they were expecting. The next months passed in a blissful blur (or at least they did to Robyn). Phillipa was, and still is, her "baby", and she is terrified that she doesn't know where she is.

Saddest Memory: Robyn is still haunted by the responses she received when she called her family members after finding out about the apocalypse. Her eldest brother told her he was in the hospital, having driven his wife there that morning. She warned him, but before he could get away from the hospital, she suddenly heard a scream and the phone fell as flesh torn and bone crunched on the other end. Will never picked up his phone. She called Beverly next, only to find out her cell phone was left in the kitchen that morning. Finally, she dialed her daughter's number and waited until the young girl picked up, frantic. She said that Beverly had picked her up from school, but that they were stuck in unmoving traffic. People were walking around "like zombies", and she was frightened. Before Robyn could find out where they were, Phillipa told her she'd call her back and hung up. She still hasn't called back, though Robyn always carries her phone with her.

So begins...

Robyn Dempsey's Story

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Chloe Simmons Character Portrait: Rasul Hendricks Character Portrait: Art Character Portrait: Nathan Durand Character Portrait: Robyn Dempsey Character Portrait: Cyan Kress Character Portrait: William Andrews
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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."

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Chloe Simmons Character Portrait: Rasul Hendricks Character Portrait: Art Character Portrait: Nathan Durand Character Portrait: Robyn Dempsey Character Portrait: Cyan Kress Character Portrait: William Andrews
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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..."

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Chloe Simmons Character Portrait: Rasul Hendricks Character Portrait: Art Character Portrait: Nathan Durand Character Portrait: Robyn Dempsey Character Portrait: Cyan Kress Character Portrait: William Andrews
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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."

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Chloe Simmons Character Portrait: Rasul Hendricks Character Portrait: Art Character Portrait: Nathan Durand Character Portrait: Robyn Dempsey Character Portrait: Cyan Kress Character Portrait: William Andrews
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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.”

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Chloe Simmons Character Portrait: Rasul Hendricks Character Portrait: Art Character Portrait: Nathan Durand Character Portrait: Robyn Dempsey Character Portrait: Cyan Kress Character Portrait: William Andrews
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#, as written by Vix
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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.

β€œOye, 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. β€œDon'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.

β€œWe 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. β€œI'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: Rasul Hendricks Character Portrait: Art Character Portrait: Nathan Durand Character Portrait: Robyn Dempsey Character Portrait: Cyan Kress Character Portrait: William Andrews
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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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Character Portrait: Chloe Simmons Character Portrait: Rasul Hendricks Character Portrait: Art Character Portrait: Nathan Durand Character Portrait: Robyn Dempsey Character Portrait: William Andrews
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Nathan waited briefly for a response out of the younger soldier, but it never came because of Robyn's appearance from her tent. He really didn't mind, of course, for he probably wouldn't have given the younger man much of his time anyway. He grabbed the box of cereal and poured some into the front pocket. Perhaps it would lure in an animal. Regardless, he knew that leaving it in the box would create too much noise. Silence was his friend as many of the animals he'd be hunting were snuggling up for the winter. Soon, he knew, he'd be unable to find enough food to last them more than a day or two at a time.

As the others told Robyn how they'd contribute before moving out, Nate opened his car and pulled out a pair of brown work boots. Once, they'd been light and the laces had yellow flecks on a field of black. Now, however, the fawnish brown had turned muddy with the moist forests he'd trekked through. Before the world went to shit, he might have been angry over this. Now, however, was no time for fashion. Perhaps he'd find a back-up pair next time they drove through a town. As he pulled the boots on over his thick, calf-length socks, Nathan chewed absentmindedly on a piece of orange until it was no more. Nate tied them on tightly. It certainly wouldn't be good if he twisted his ankle now. Oakley, meanwhile, paced eagerly around his backpack.
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"Yeah, I'll be ready to hunt. Just give me a few minutes."

"Not a problem, kiddo." Nate said to the younger man as the Lieutenant ducked back in his tent. He personally set the Winchester Model 70 against the car and stuffed the knife he'd used earlier in his backpack, which held numerous rounds of ammo, a Nalgene bottle, and some granola bars. He still had the pistol in the waistband of his pants, but how he pulled it out and tossed it in the backpack. Couldn't risk losing that if he had to run. Finally, he zipped up the backpack and pulled on an L.L. Bean fleece jacket his mother had gotten some Christmas for him years ago. Slinging the backpack on, Nathan grabbed his gun and sighed as the Lieutenant emerged from his tent and requested they wait for the other soldier. Quickly, he shook his head. "I'm not waiting for him. He should get his ass up with the rest of us." He gave Oakley a pat on the head. "We'll head out before you. Catch up when your buddy's awake...or, just let him catch up to us."

Nate looked back to the others just as Art was leaving. "Wait-," he began to say, trying to ask if she wanted to come along with him. He worried about her going out alone. Out of the group, it was really only her and Robyn who seemed the least bit friendly around him. Perhaps that was why he was fond of the young woman. She reminded him of what his wife had been like before his injury had torn them apart. Actually, though he wouldn't admit it, she merely reminded him of what he'd wished Wendy was like. She was bubbly, of course, but only for a while. Wendy was bubbly in the way most high school girls, high on life, are. In truth, he hardly knew the woman who bore his children. But Art was the spitting image of what he thought Wendy was like, so he was oddly possessive of the young girl in a way that wasn't romantic per say. He watched the girl and her dog disappear with a sigh. Well, maybe he'd follow her at least.

As he moved away from the camp, Nate stopped to give Robyn a tight, one armed hug that lasted a few seconds. In turn, she hugged him back. With one quick glance back at the young soldier to see if he was coming, Nate ventured into the woods with Oakley at his feet. Both figures cautiously tread over the leaves, senses heightened by the rush hunting brought. Man and beast moved similarly through the brush, on the look out for movement.

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Character Portrait: Chloe Simmons Character Portrait: Art Character Portrait: Robyn Dempsey Character Portrait: Cyan Kress
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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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Character Portrait: Robyn Dempsey Character Portrait: Cyan Kress
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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: Robyn Dempsey Character Portrait: Cyan Kress
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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: Robyn Dempsey Character Portrait: Cyan Kress
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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.