darkness will fall — APOCALYPSE AU; open

This is an archived version of FeralFront. While you can surf through all the content that was ever created on FeralFront, no new content can be created.
If you'd like some free FeralFront memorabilia to look back on fondly, see this thread from Dynamo (if this message is still here, we still have memorabilia): https://feralfront.com/thread/2669184-free-feralfront-memorabilia/.

    [fancypost bgcolor=#8A0829; border: none; border-bottom: 5px solid #8A0829; width: 450px; height: 16px; padding: 0px; font-family: verdana; color: black; font-size: 8px; line-height: 16px; text-align: center]template by #punki-chan[/fancypost][fancypost bgcolor=#6e6e6e; border: 5px solid #8A0829; border-left: none; border-right: none; width: 450px; min-height: 200px; padding: 0px; padding-top: 2px][fancypost bgcolor=#8A0829; border: none; width: 450px; height: 2px; padding: 0px][/fancypost][fancypost bgcolor=#A4A4A4; border: 2px solid #8A0829; border-top: none; border-bottom: none; width: 400px; min-height: 198px; padding: 0px][fancypost bgcolor=; border: none; width: inherit; height: 40px; padding: 0px; font-family: baskerville old face; color: #151515; font-size: 20px; line-height: 30px; text-align: center; text-transform: lowercase; letter-spacing: -1px;]darius | run boy run[fancypost bgcolor=; border: none; width: inherit; height: 10px; padding: 0px; font-size: 10px; line-height: 10px; letter-spacing: 0px; font-family: verdana; margin-top: -5px]running is a victory
    [hr][/fancypost][/fancypost][fancypost bgcolor=; border: none; width: 380px; min-height: 96px; padding: 10px; padding-top: 0px; font-family: verdana; color: #151515; font-size: 10px; line-height: 12px; text-align: justify; text-transform: lowercase]


    Even as Boo hit him, Darius only stared down at his ex-fiance, his expression a bit hard as he was offended but they softened as he always did when around Boo. Glancing towards the others in a quick moment, the muscular lithe figure of the ginger went to wrap his arms tightly around Boo, hearing the choked words that were the three words that the former marine used to despise and hate. He had tried to move on from their relationship problem but to be honest Darius would always bail on first dates or ignored all sorts of romance, girls hit on him and men but usually Darius had always dropped it off. He was a very loyal and dedicated person and if he wasn't going to be with Boo, then he wouldn't be with anyone.


    Blinking his clear sea green jade eyes, the male fell down from all his thinking and simply kept hugging Boo, bending his head down to plant a light caring kiss on the forehead of Boo while aiming to softly brush the tears away from the curly haired boy's cheeks and he went to slightly raise the chin of Boo to look up at Darius. His infamous wild crooked grin flashed out for a moment before it went to a kinder tender moment as he said in a light whisper "I'm never leaving you. Don't ever think that for a second." He was half tempted to kiss Boo but hearing the voice of girl that came rushing in, he took a step back and gripped the base of his katana that hung to his back, a last resort if he was ever cornered. Glancing around, he gave a slight nod as he heard her and smirked, letting out a light clear laugh and commented "Damn, if I had a daughter I would want her to be like you." With that, he wondered if he should stick with Boo, knowing that Boo was one that was too kind to even kill a menace like a zombie. Reaching out for Boo's hand, Darius glanced around, wondering if there really were more zombies wandering near them.
    [align=center]

    ( TAGS FOR MOBILE )

    ( TAGS FOR MOBILE )
    ( TAGS FOR MOBILE )


    [/fancypost][fancypost bgcolor=; border: none; border-top: 2px solid #8A0829; width: 400px; height: 50px; padding: 0px; background: url(https://33.media.tumblr.com/c8…rxsem7AC1s8tqb9o1_500.gif);][/fancypost][/fancypost][/fancypost]

    [fancypost bgcolor=; bordercolor=transparent; color:white; font-size: 10pt; text-align: justify; overflow: auto; width: 500px;][font=georgia]Sea wasn't like the others. He hadn't a single bit of humanity left inside of him and frankly, anything that got into his path ended up gone, alive or dead. He had gotten this way because, like the others, he had lost someone. His boyfriend and two of his children.


    It would seem to anyone living with him that he would commit suicide if left alone long enough. Maybe he would. But although his fucks were gone, he was responsible enough to take care of his remaining children. Especially if that meant watching them waste away like he did- the apocalypse did that to people, children, without a tad bit of remorse. The only thing he did to keep the last threads alive was telling them that this would be over. It would take years, but they were smart enough to stay alive that long once he died.


    Seafoam was a strange man, that was for sure. Both in personality and appearance; with a clean undercut and an unmarked body lacking the usual grime and blood that the rest of the survivors had adapted. Sporting a crude sense of humor and a no-shit attitude, he was a fucking joy.


    Honestly, the only reason Seafoam was targeting the unnatural gathering of survivors was to screw them over in the end game and flee. He wasn't going to fucking play house and get his throat ripped out in the end for being an ignorant ass. Leaning against a a nearby wall in plan view, the tank top and jeans clad man cleaned one of his recently scavenged knives with a blank expression. His children were somewhere nearby, and as long as they didn't get killed he couldn't give any shits what they did.

    [fancypost borderwidth=0px; line-height: 14px; width: 450px; text-align: justify; font-family: verdana; font-size: 10pt; color:#;]Damn, that was a lot of people. Hating that he was so weary, the fifteen year old would slide back, eyeing Sea. He wanted to be in the group and enjoy the rare company, but zombies didn't care at all, and he felt obligated to protect them. So he got his guns out, twirling them with his fingers, before looking around. He didn't know them at all, but he already felt like he knew them like friends.
    [color=transparent] #sckick

    [fancypost bgcolor= transparent; border: 700px; color: white]

    [size=30pt][font=Georgia][color=#8FD8D8]hurricanekit[/size]
    sunclan -- easy -- invisibility


    [hr][hr]


    [justify][font=georgia]She remembered running, scavenging, crying, and the ones who she'd lost. The ones that stuck out most in her mind were her father and two of her four siblings. They'd died in this horrible event that was now actual everyday life. And she hated it. She hated it with every fiber of her being, every inch of her soul. Everytime she saw a zombie, she couldn't help but think of her dead family members. Had they turned too? Of course... Everyone did. And it killed her.


    But Hazel was not dead. She was very much alive, though she didn't act like it. She clung to her remaining family desperately. Her eyes held a weariness that seemed to know no bounds and a sadness like none other. She wasn't fit for this. No, she wasn't dead. But sometimes she wished she was.


    Dressed in black jeans and a gray shirt, she came to stand by her father. All the faces before her were strange. It wasn't in a bad way though. She'd just... Hadn't seen so many people in one place for about a year and a half. It boggled her mind. It was amazing and terrifying. Hazel gripped the straps of her backpack, edging closer to Sea when she caught one of them looking she and her dad. [color=#8FD8D8]"Dad wha - what do we d - do?" [color=white]the fourteen year old inquired, silently cursing herself for the small stutter in her voice. Thought she'd outgrown it at the age of seven, it came back every once in a while. It was usually when her anxiety was highest.

    [fancypost borderwidth=0px; margin-left: -1px;]

    [fancypost borderwidth=0px; height: 32px; width: 310px; padding: 0px; transform: rotate(-90deg); -o-transform: rotate(-90deg); -webkit-transform: rotate(-90deg); -moz-transform: rotate(-90deg); -ms-transform:rotate(-90deg); font-family: felix titling; font-size: 24pt; margin-top: 143px; margin-left: -40px; text-align: right; line-height: 20px; cursor: vertical-text; padding-right: 3px;]EREN J. [size=8][font=verdana]
    apprentice | male | sunclan | battle tags[/fancypost]    		 [fancypost borderwidth=0px; height: 310px; width: 300px; padding: 0px; padding-right: 4px; overflow: auto; margin-left: -140px; font-size: 7pt; text-align: justify; text-transform: lowercase; text-align: justify;]Damn it, there were too many people around. Eren could hear them, shuffling around corners, trickling in like water. The smell of untainted human flesh was too much for the zombies to ignore; pretty soon they would be overwhelmed. Eren stood swiftly, grabbing his twin swords - one in each hand. At least Fawn had killed the first one. "We're about to be swarmed by zombies," he snapped, "there's too many of us in one place. If you can't fight, I suggest you stand back." He tucked the rest of the chicken away in his bag and scanned the area for any of the undead.
    [/fancypost]    		 [fancypost borderwidth=0px; height: 10px; width: 200px; padding: 0px; font-size: 7pt; transform: rotate(90deg); -o-transform: rotate(90deg); -webkit-transform: rotate(90deg); -moz-transform: rotate(90deg); -ms-transform:rotate(90deg); margin-top: 100px; margin-left: -90px; cursor: vertical-text;][color=transparent]template (c) olivan | #erenwashere [/fancypost]

    [/fancypost]

    [fancypost borderwidth=0px; line-height: 14px; width: 450px; text-align: justify; font-family: verdana; font-size: 10pt; color:#;]With Wren's call, zombies appeared all around Kyle. He pointed his guns, and shot them in quick succession, his accuracy surprising for a fifteen year old. Then again, you had to be good in a zombie apocalypse.
    [color=transparent] #sckick

    [fancypost bgcolor=Transparent; border: 0px; height: 200px; width: 300px; margin-center: -5px; overflow: hidden; font-size: 7pt; color: black;][fancypost bgcolor=Transparent; border: 0px; height: 200px; width: 300px; margin-center: -5px; overflow: auto; font-size: 7pt; color: black; text-align: justify;]"I don't know if I should take that as a compliment," she muttered, grabbing one of her handguns. The first motherfucker came around the corner and with the sharp eye she had, it was down in mere milliseconds. "These people obviously haven't been in a horde," she muttered to herself, running forward and kicking down a zombie so she could easily shoot it in the head. "We need a blockade on each alleyway except one and the main entrances manned by those who can handle it! Then those who need to get out of here go up that fire escape," she said simply, shooting another in the head before pulling down a ladder. This was everyday life, and, to say the least, she liked it.[/fancypost][/fancypost]

    [size=6pt]hidden scrolling . #fawnsteps2k15 . #quetemplate[/size]

    [fancypost bgcolor=; borderwidth=0px; bordercolor=; width: 375px; text-align: justify; font-size: 8pt;]
    oh, they were in a hoard or something? tressy stretched, sitting up and finishing her granola bar with a hum. "aw, well we certainly shouldn't blame anyone else for this. we can live because we're in a group, as long as we kill zombies and not each other, 'cuz some of you look like you'd rather be killing us than them." the blonde said simply, not naming names or giving anyone particular looks.


    she grabbed her cutlass, standing from her spot and turning to face some of the approaching zombies. she grinned - not because she was obsessed with murdering others or gore, but she did consider it a little fun slaying some zombies. the work with her cutlass was clean if she wanted it to be, which meant a quick removal of a head or two and a neatly slashed face. it was pretty easy after a while.


    /mobile
    [/fancypost][fancypost borderwidth= 0px; text-align: center; text-transform: lowercase; font-size: 6pt;][abbr=sixteen months, she/her, biromantic, single]information[/abbr] - powers - [abbr=hard, attack in bold, ask for maim or capture, uses sword]tags[/abbr]
    [size=3pt]a[/size]
    [/fancypost]

    [fancypost borderwidth=0px; margin-left: -1px;]

    [fancypost borderwidth=0px; height: 32px; width: 310px; padding: 0px; transform: rotate(-90deg); -o-transform: rotate(-90deg); -webkit-transform: rotate(-90deg); -moz-transform: rotate(-90deg); -ms-transform:rotate(-90deg); font-family: felix titling; font-size: 24pt; margin-top: 143px; margin-left: -40px; text-align: right; line-height: 20px; cursor: vertical-text; padding-right: 3px;]EREN J. [size=8][font=verdana]
    apprentice | male | sunclan | battle tags[/fancypost]    		 [fancypost borderwidth=0px; height: 310px; width: 300px; padding: 0px; padding-right: 4px; overflow: auto; margin-left: -140px; font-size: 7pt; text-align: justify; text-transform: lowercase; text-align: justify;]eren completely disregarded fawn's plan; he couldn't even hear her, he was overcome by rage. Swords clutched tight in both hands, he flung himself forward with a yell, lobbing the heads of three zombies clean off. Killing the undead wasn't exactly fun for him, but he did feel a bit ecstatic every time one of their bodies fell to the ground. He felt like he was avenging his mother somehow.




    / rushed
    [/fancypost]    		 [fancypost borderwidth=0px; height: 10px; width: 200px; padding: 0px; font-size: 7pt; transform: rotate(90deg); -o-transform: rotate(90deg); -webkit-transform: rotate(90deg); -moz-transform: rotate(90deg); -ms-transform:rotate(90deg); margin-top: 100px; margin-left: -90px; cursor: vertical-text;][color=transparent]template (c) olivan | #erenwashere [/fancypost]

    [/fancypost]

    [fancypost bgcolor=transparent; borderwidth=0px; bordercolor=transparent; width: 425px;][justify]★ [size=3pt]--[/size] [font=arial][size=9pt]she didn't understand how she had survived as long as she did now. she didn't understand why her parents had locked her in here for two weeks, she didn't understand why they threw themselves to the wolves, suicided for her. one thing she did understand, however? her food supply was running low - way too low. and her parents wouldn't want her to die just as they had, nor would she want to go out from starvation - so what would it be, little chiaki?


    ' i have to leave. ' a startling relization yes - she didn't want to leave home, the place in which she had so many memories in, the last little piece of her family that she had left - but was memorabilia really that important so it rivaled her life, her wishes? not to mention her parents' own - they wouldn't want thier little girl, whom they had sacrificed so much for, to go out being a wimp, a coward, never going anywhere, never moving forward.


    ' ihavetoleave ' and before she could think about, before she could change her mind, she was doing it. grabbing the ramona summers sledgehammer her dad had crafted her for her birthday, a backpack full of cans of various foodstuffs, along with her cat-esque hoodie, the girl would let out a shaky breath, before swinging open her front door. she was going to live - or die trying to.


    and then she was met with the hoard - coming in from all directions they were, heading towards what seemed to be ... a group of people? all her fear melted away for a second - until she realized it.


    they were coming for her too, weren't they?


    [ scott pilgrim refrences yeah ][size=1pt]
    #pleaseinsertcoin    [/size][/fancypost]

    [fancypost borderwidth=0px; font-size: 14px;][font=arial]Feeling Darius hugging him and kissing his forehead, the panicking male seemed to relax to an extent. Not to the point of being completely fine - far from it - but to the point where he was somewhat able to deal with what was going on. Even if that state lasted seconds, it would be more than good enough. Tall figure still shivering as he attempted to tighten his grip whilst the hug lasted, although he didn't have much strength. Feeble from what had gone on, looking weak. Pathetic, even.


    As he saw his former lover's hand, Boo would attempt to take hold of it. Grip still very shaky at this point. Mind beginning to race at the thought of them finding them, evidently feeling sick at the idea. Terrified. His shaking became worse, more tears running down his cheeks. He wouldn't let himself kill any of them, the understanding that they didn't have a choice making his morals turn completely against the idea. They were just like him, forced into something. They had families, lovers and friends. Just like those still alive.


    Keeping quiet, Boo would beg for nothing bad to happen. Holding on to the hope that he already knew wasn't good for him.

    [fancypost bgcolor=; borderwidth=0px; bordercolor=; width: 375px; text-align: justify; font-size: 8pt;]
    well, tressy hadn't the slightest clue as to who boo and darius were; to each other, or to anyone else. maybe they were reunited lovers or something? she hadn't the slightest clue. it was a pretty nice scene for the apocalypse, honestly, even if as they were hugging she was lodging her sword into the skull of an undead person.


    she was still going to be optimistic, though, she had to. it was much better than being so down and out of it. once she'd finished the zombies in her area, she looked around for anyone who needed help. darius and boo seemed preoccupied with each other, but the former looked strong enough to cover for both of them. eren seemed to be covering for himself, as was fawn. anyone else was good too, likely, except.. except a suddenly new face, of a young girl who stepped out from her house. it seemed she didn't know of the hoard, and, considering her young age she probably didn't know how to defend herself. tressy supposed she could play hero for the time being, right?


    the blonde hurried over, slashing through the torso of any zombie who stepped in her way. she didn't want any kids to get hurt; there were a few, but they seemed to either have guardians or close proximity with someone strong. all besides this girl. the young woman rushed to her side, attempting to lift the young girl to her hip so she had a free hand for her sword. "why'd you come out of the house?" questioned the blonde toward the young girl, panting a bit and sticking warily near the building for the time being. "what's your name, too?"



    [/fancypost][fancypost borderwidth= 0px; text-align: center; text-transform: lowercase; font-size: 6pt;][abbr=sixteen months, she/her, biromantic, single]information[/abbr] - powers - [abbr=hard, attack in bold, ask for maim or capture, uses sword]tags[/abbr]
    [size=3pt]a[/size]
    [/fancypost]

    [fancypost borderwidth=0px; margin-left: -1px;]

    [fancypost borderwidth=0px; height: 32px; width: 310px; padding: 0px; transform: rotate(-90deg); -o-transform: rotate(-90deg); -webkit-transform: rotate(-90deg); -moz-transform: rotate(-90deg); -ms-transform:rotate(-90deg); font-family: felix titling; font-size: 24pt; margin-top: 143px; margin-left: -40px; text-align: right; line-height: 20px; cursor: vertical-text; padding-right: 3px;]EREN J. [size=8][font=verdana]
    apprentice | male | sunclan | battle tags[/fancypost]    		 [fancypost borderwidth=0px; height: 310px; width: 300px; padding: 0px; padding-right: 4px; overflow: auto; margin-left: -140px; font-size: 7pt; text-align: justify; text-transform: lowercase; text-align: justify;]"are you guys ok?" Eren called back to boo and Darius. Neither of them seemed to be fighting, but darius had a weapon, so he was sure they'd be fine. As for their reunion, he honestly didn't care about it - as long as nobody died he would continue to be an emotionless prick. He drove both of his swords straight through the ribcage of a smaller zombie, heaving it's corpse over his head to crush another one that was advancing towards him. He was using shockingly brutal battle tactics, especially for a kid his age. Unlike the others, it never crossed his mind that these things used to be human - he didn't let himself think about that. They were monsters. To live, you had to fight.
    Eren turned his attention towards tressy and the other girl. Oh, great - she looked helpless. The boy skewered an approaching zombie through the eye without a second glance before trudging over to the pair, breathing hard. "Is she hurt?" He asked, "the second horde is almost on us, I can hear them."
    [/fancypost]    		 [fancypost borderwidth=0px; height: 10px; width: 200px; padding: 0px; font-size: 7pt; transform: rotate(90deg); -o-transform: rotate(90deg); -webkit-transform: rotate(90deg); -moz-transform: rotate(90deg); -ms-transform:rotate(90deg); margin-top: 100px; margin-left: -90px; cursor: vertical-text;][color=transparent]template (c) olivan | #erenwashere [/fancypost]

    [/fancypost]

    [fancypost borderwidth=0px; line-height: 14px; width: 450px; text-align: justify; font-family: verdana; font-size: 10pt; color:#;]Running out off bullets, the male quickly reloaded and shot the zombies coming at him. He often thought about how each zombie was once a human. They had friends, families of their own. Who knows, maybe he knew some of them. He couldn't think about that now, not when their was a very real possibility everyone could die.
    [color=transparent] #sckick

    [fancypost bgcolor=; border: 0px; width: 300px; font-family: verdana; font-size: 10pt; text-align: justify;]
    [hr]
    When shit hit the fan, Lukas had laid low. And by low, he meant he had stayed in an emergency bunker for weeks upon weeks, waiting, trying to make any sort of contact with a singular person. Emil. He wanted to talk to Emil and no one else. Well, perhaps their father, for he was with young Emil, right? When he last saw the two, his eleven-almost-twelve year old brother and father were being dragged away from him by panicking crowds and crumbling societies. They were separated when wide-spread shock had rippled through out the masses. Of course, warnings of the sickness had already been all over the media for weeks, and yet his family had figured that they should go out for one last run for supplies before locking themselves up. So, they had, they went out together and tried to stay that way as they practically raided shelves for canned food and bottled water.


    It just had to be at that moment that one of those things got out in their area. So, naturally, people panicked, and ran, and pushed, and shoved, and kicked, and knocked him down; when he got back up, he couldn't find either of his only family members. His father was gone. Emil was gone. His small, innocent, silver-haired little brother was missing and no matter how much he searched he couldn't find him. He looked everywhere through out the store, in the house, around the town, and everywhere Lukas was, Emil was not. By the time he was being swarmed and chased down by those things, he still hadn't found Emil, had gotten a gruesome cut from his collar bone up to his shoulder, and had twisted an ankle falling over the latch to a safety bunker that one of his neighbors owned. He was lucky, and yet unlucky at the same time. His neighbors, Berwald and Tino with their "son" Peter and daughter Ida, were no where to be seen when he threw himself into the bunker and locked himself tight. He figured that Peter would be with his older brother and his real family, instead of the couple that he was usually seen with instead. Tino, Berwald and Ida, however, he wasn't sure, but he couldn't bring himself to worry. Tino, a small Finnish man whom adored Christmas and, surprisingly, rock music, was military trained and was the best shot with his prized rifles Lukas had ever seen; Berwald was a huge, stony-faced Swede, rather talented in the art of strategy and combat; Ida, their adopted Danish daughter, was loud and annoying and blunt, but she, along with her fathers, was an excellent fighter, especially with battle axes. He figured that wherever they were, they were fine, so he felt no guilt in using their bunkers for a few weeks as he healed.


    Within the bunker was shelves of food, canned and dried, and water that was clean and drinkable. There was a first-aide kit, which he was able to use to wrap his ankle and mend his chest wound. There were some extra clothes, though Berwald's giant jackets and boots were much too large for the fifteen-year-old Lukas, he was able to use a pair of Tino's combat boots, a dark sweatshirt that probably belonged to Ida, along with a light blue windbreaker, a couple of shirts, wool socks, a blanket, and a six-foot-long, powderblue scarf. While he spent a few weeks recovering, he used his cellphone as much as he could until the lines went dead, trying to contact Emil. He resorted to radios, but there were none in the bunker. So, he waited until his ankle healed and his chest didn't ache so much before he gathered up as much food and water as he could carry in a backpack, took his clothes and blanket, a portable first-aide kit and fire-starter, and one of Tino's pistols that he had stumbled upon when searching for a radio, and as much ammunition as he could find.


    Clad in woolen socks and tightly laced combat boots, the skinny jeans he had started out in, a white t-shirt, a dark jacket and his scarf that he wore over his mouth and nose and wrapped around his neck, the young teenager was off. At first he had raided a few empty houses, and he ended up coming out with another blanket by the time he had gone through his fifth house. Inexperienced and low on weapons, the Norwegian knew that he needed to be extremely wary - those zombies could be lurking around every corner. He progressed on carefully, and within a week he had only come across a handful of the undead. That was about the time he had met another person. It was an older man whom he vaguely recognized from his neighborhood. He had a thick Eastern-European accent and begged for solace and mercy from Lukas. Apparently empathic, the teen had trusted the other, helped him, only to be beaten to the ground before most of his things were stolen. Bruised ribs made his breathing wheezy and harsh; his back ached and that scratch on his collarbone and neck hurt like it had opened up again. Thankfully he was only bruised, however, for the man hadn't enough courage to kill him on his own. He had taken most, but left what he deemed useless. Lukas had one of his blankets, a few protein bars, and his life.


    Having gathered up his items, Lukas trailed back to the bunker that he had left, and again locked himself up. Thankfully it was untouched, but there wasn't as much there. The teenager was discouraged, he had left his sanctuary to find his brother only to be beaten by someone that wasn't dead. He had a bitter determination, however, and about for days later he had taken another bag, thankful that there were three, sulked it with more food and water, salvaged as much from the first-aide kit he had first used, and was off again. This time, however, he was wary of not only the undead corpses that walked the streets in their unnerving shuffles, but also the people living in the bland world and were closer to being undead than they thought. No-one was too be trusted. He couldn't take any more risks like that.


    The fifteen year old had travelled for a couple of weeks. His bruises on his face and torso had healed, and he had came across a metal baseball bat from a corpse on the ground. He learned to better make fires, and he tried hunting a few times with semi-sharp sticks. It was difficult, although, without a knife, but he tried to make do. He hadn't come across any other human life, not for a long, long while. He didn't exactly mind - he didn't desire to be a victim of another hostile stranger. The only human he wished to see was Emil, maybe his father, but most Emil. For the longest time he was losing hope that he would come to find his sibling.


    And then there were gunshots.


    Approaching the scene warily out of nothing more than curiosity and wonder, the Scandinavian teen peered through his perch in the distance, watching as a large group of people were being swarmed. His trust toward humans was small and steadily diminishing, and it would be idiotic to jump in with only a metal bat at his side. Icy blue eyes narrowing, the platinum blonde Norwegian glanced around, noticing the heavy increase of zombies making their way over. They weren't really in his area, so, just in case he wasn't seeing all of them and there was a chance he knew someone there, Lukas climbed a nearby tree and watched, waiting.
    //lost muse at the end ehhe


    [/fancypost]

    [fancypost bgcolor=transparent; borderwidth=0px; bordercolor=transparent; width: 425px;][justify]★ [size=3pt]--[/size] [size=9pt]what were the chances of her finding other life? slim. the chances of her being noticed in the frey of the hoard? even slimmer. the chances of someone coming over to help her, save her even? nonexistent.


    despite being twelve and a half, the child would be surprisingly easy to lift - she wasn't the biggest of kids, afterall. chiaki would give a silent startled squeak as she was suddenly flung off the ground, her stone hammer clattering to the ground. safety. protection. that was a feeling she hadn't felt for a long while. the girl would give a gulp, yanking the hood of her jack over her eyes.


    " w-well ... " she began in a shaky voice. " mama and papa told me to stay in the house and neverever let anyone in until they came back - they said badbadbad people were out here and i shouldn't mes with them, 'cause they're bad. but they never came back so ... i just stayed here until i got reallyreallyreally hungry and came out to find food. "


    speaking of mama and papa ... hadn't they told her not to speak with strangers? she forgot sometimes, the lessons she had learned - awful easy it was, she knew. she had already told them stuff so ... why not? if they tried to hurt or kill her she could just ... run. run away until she found nicer people. yeah.


    ' but you wouldn't get far, now woukd you? '


    " i-i'm chiaki. please don't hurt me, miss stranger ... ""
    [/size]
    [size=1pt]
    #pleaseinsertcoin    [/size][/fancypost]

    [fancypost bgcolor=; borderwidth=0px; bordercolor=; width: 375px; text-align: justify; font-size: 8pt;]
    wow, that hammer got really fucking close to her foot, and she was briefly glad that she'd stepped away. tightening her hold on the small girl, she held her sword up carefully toward any approaching zombies while she spoke. the blonde maintained a smile though, hoping to raise the mood of the little girl so she didn't get upset.


    "yeah, there are some pretty bad people out here, huh?" tressy said with a hum, poking the tip of her cutlass to the chest of one of the closer zombies to shove it away. she didn't particularly want to be gross and murderous around younger kids, so she carefully knocked them back for the time being. "so you ran out of food? i think someone's got a granola bar you could have, maybe?" tressy said, glancing at eren questioningly.


    the poor girl's parents were quite likely dead. she sheathed her sword quickly, squatting down to pick up the sledgehammer without dropping the girl and handing the previously mentioned hammer to chiaki. "chiaki's a nice name, i'll say. and i won't hurt you. you can call me tressy." she said, offering her a smile. "are you hurt?" tres asked chiaki, repeating eren's question and directing it toward the girl.


    [/fancypost][fancypost borderwidth= 0px; text-align: center; text-transform: lowercase; font-size: 6pt;][abbr=sixteen months, she/her, biromantic, single]information[/abbr] - powers - [abbr=hard, attack in bold, ask for maim or capture, uses sword]tags[/abbr]
    [size=3pt]a[/size]
    [/fancypost]

    [align=center][fancypost bgcolor= transparent; border: 0px solid black; width: 500px; font-family: georgia][img width=400]http://www.lovethispic.com/upl…Blowing-In-The-Wind.gif?1[/img]
    [size=20pt]VintageEscstasy ?![/size]
    [size=13pt]female - SunClan - kitten[/size][/fancypost]
    [hr]
    [fancypost bgcolor= transparent; border: 0px solid black; width: 300px; overflow: auto; text-align: justify; text-transform: lowercase; font-family: arial]Vin burst through the bushes. This was the scariest thing that had ever happened to her... well... besides the peanut thing...
    She ran and hid in the group, trembling badly. Zombies trumped out of the bushes on hot persuit of her.
    [/fancypost]
    [size=6pt]{c} Taboo[/size]