pretend it's home

CELESTE VENTURA twenty six years old "I'm a secret. I'm a lie. I'm the weakness I despise. Let the fear consume you, then force it out Remember that it's not true."

[ofventura-blog]

I don’t really know where to post this, because I was so busy with school I wasn’t here for all of this. I’m sad to see the group go. I know I’m still relative new and so was Celeste, but if anyone wants to start a 1x1 with her or just simply stay in contact with little old me or you know, just plot a 1x1 with me or something then follow me at http://melodierps.tumblr.com/. I would love to get to know some of you better there (I also have kik and skype if you want that)

[isaackrane]

SEND A SYMBOL FOR MY MUSE’S REACTION TO YOURS:

▼ kissing them

♢ stabbing them

♞ shooting them

✖ punching them

➶ slapping them

☠ poisoning them

☎ hugging them

☂ picking them up

✗ bringing them alcohol

✣ bringing them food

☯ coming home late

♀ proposing marriage

[d-aisyskys]

[ofventura-blog]

lori--taylor:

“I shouldn’t have to apologise for bein’ who I am, y’know?” She ran her palm down her face. No tears. “But I do it anyway, ‘cause I can… I can see why people don’t like me– and I can… I can relate to that. I don’t like me very much most of the time, either.”

Celeste slowly lifted her gaze to the speaking female. Her hands only stopping briefly from their task of organizing the medicine in the box. “We all have our flaws. No one in this world is perfect. Sometimes you can’t change those flaws. Sometimes all you can do is accept them. Don’t let them cripple you and you sure as hell should not have to apologize for them -- apologize for being human.”

[ofventura-blog]

jamiereuben:

Jamie was one of the few people here that didn’t care so much about the fact that Fall City had been destroyed. He hadn’t lived there long enough to get attached. A week, maybe two. The people were safe. Lori was safe and it was all that mattered to him. She was the only family he had left and so he kept a close eye on her as he worked. It seemed like scrubbing blood off the floor would always be his assigned task. On his third day in Fall City, the day of the attack on Xavier’s camp, he’d been the one to keep the clinic clean. He’d scrubbed the tiles on his hands and knees and that was what he did now too. Only it was a different day and a different hospital.

They had to maintain this place if they were going to stay here.

Rough footsteps squeaked on linoleum floor. The back-door creaked when he pushed it open with his shoulder to discard a load of bloody towels into the dumpster. Jamie was about to turn and continue his work when he spotted a figure not far from the door. Against the bright sunlight he couldn’t tell who they were. 

“Hey,” he called to them. “Wanna come in? You can’t open the door from the outside.”

Celeste had been an outgoing person before; always eager to make new friends. Shy was the last thing she was. But somehow all that had changed in six months. She had been on her own for the majority of that time. Clearly solitude had an affect on her. She was still surprised whenever she walked into a room and found someone in there. Celeste wondered if it was her PTSD or the time she had been alone that made her jump at every sound. The gun stay by her side, but she was beginning to think if she would ever fire it again. 

Point was, she had no idea how to approach any of these people. She wanted to help, but how when she did not know what to do. Everything she knew how to do, she no longer could. In the end, she kept to herself, keeping her head low at all times. 

Even with an oxygen tank by her side, the girl still craved the feeling of the fresh air. Not wanting to walk through an entire building and be right at front, she decided to go for the back door. She doubted anyone would go out that door, thus she sat by the wall relaxed and with her eyes closed. Her arms wrapped around her body and for once letting her lungs take a deep fresh of air. It felt nice to the point that a little smile was forming. That was until she heard the door creak open and someone speak moments after. 

“Really?” She softly laughed at herself, moving her head towards the direction of the person. “Well, fuck. Thanks for telling me. I did not know that. Just saved me from spending a night out here,” Celeste added, pushing herself up to her feet and walking over to new stranger. That’s when she saw the bloody towels that he had been carrying. A little playfully she narrowed her eyes and asked, “should I be worried?”

[ofventura-blog]

diana--white:

Diana was fortunate to be able to have survived this far.  What she had yet to get over was pulling the trigger. Every time she considered it, she froze. It was as if she saw the person’s life flashing before her eyes – too damned responsible. Meanwhile, Diana knew that those creatures were not human anymore. Their memories were gone, their brains eaten by the fungus which had been bred within them. She recalled the invasion of Xavier’s camp, how when Hunter’s life was on the line, it was the first time she willingly used a gun. To save one of the closest people she had, it still hurt. Maybe it was her former views blocking her from succeeding. Maybe it was the fact she was held responsible. Diana was outgoing, often getting involved in actions she shouldn’t have and this was her cutoff point. She couldn’t kill unless the circumstances were extreme. With Hunter, she had tossed the burden onto his shoulders and she realized she shouldn’t have done so. Just because he did it to protect her didn’t mean it was right. Diana needed to learn for him – if she ever saw him again. Her mind was hovering back and forth between death and life. Celeste was deep in thought; Diana could tell by her silence and the focused stare of her eyes. She was hoping someone would be there for her probably. She was being kept alive by the same force Diana used – believing she would see her best friend again. If there was something worth living for, the worst case scenario wasn’t the worst it could be. The only problem with this world was it wasn’t nearly as promising and the bad it unleashed were very different than in the past. It was harder to be okay. “The look you have is familiar, that’s all.” Diana offered Celeste a gentle smile. “It was the same one I had a few months ago when I was searching for my best friend – always waiting for him to appear.” And there were many nights when Diana was terrified it would be for nothing, when she would wipe tears from her eyes in the concealment of the shadows. “I don’t think I’ve met a Natalia, but there are a lot more of us than this. She may be with the others. Don’t blame ya’ for being unable to get into the city. It went down fast. I was on the patrol tower when the bombs fell. Ya’ are lucky for being on the outside.”

Celeste had learned over the years that pulling the trigger to save someone you loved or doing it because you thought it was the right thing was a lot easier. In the brunette’s case, her entire life had revolve around saving those she loved. Going to hell and back for the people she cared for. In a blink of an eye she hadn’t hesitate to risk her own life and kill for the girl that became her sister. With such ease she had joined the marines because it meant fighting for those that could not. 

When it came to pulling the trigger for others, she could do it. It was when pulling the trigger to save herself, that she could not. Especially when someone she knew was at the other end of her gun. While Diana had to learn to pull the trigger to save those she loved, Celeste had to learn how to pull the trigger to save herself. 

She was aware that the infected were not the only threat out there. People were desperate, scared, and above all wanted to live. That was enough to make anyone forget their humanity. Celeste had been lucky enough to find a group that did not threaten to kill her the moment she showed up. She was lucky to find someone like Diana. People like her could be rare now. 

A little sad smile formed when Diana admitted to having been in the same position that Celeste was in now -- desperately searching for someone they lost. Holding on to that silver lining each day. Every rustling leave or sound made her heart skip because it was either Natalia, an infected, or someone stranger. She was scared it would be a combination of the two first ones. But never in those many months had Celeste’s faith falter. She strongly believed she would find Natalia somehow. She would keep searching for as long as she could still breathe. “Yeah, it did not look good from the outside, trust me.” It was like a bloody curse that Celeste had -- every time she got near a city she hoped her friend would be in, that same city would get blown to pieces. “Did you ever find your friend?” 

[musingmemes]

send me a ♬ and a number between 1-10 and i’ll put my itunes on shuffle and skip to that number and write a starter with my favorite lyric from that song.

example: if you send me ♬ 7, i’ll put my itunes on shuffle, skip forward seven songs and use my favorite lyric from that song.

[ofventura-blog]

lexierivera:

At the mere mention of a fictional character, unforced laughter vibrated against her vocal chords. Lexie struggled to recall the last time such a natural response had came forth, more negative emotions being the first to spiral from conversations, but she remained to be appreciative of the rare experience. “What Winnie the Pooh says, goes, right?” Olive cheeks pinched upwards as she spoke, gracing her once-relaxed facial features with amusement. “If I’m honest, I was always more of a Tigger fan anyway.”

The female knew the type who would have comfortably fit within the latter; coming with limited compassion and the inability to recognise the natural responses to loss. In fact, as she pondered on the thought, the more likely it was that a minority of the group fit comfortably underneath the title. “Never heard the phrase positivity kills?” There remained to be no seriousness with her tone, having welcomed her approach from the get-go. Nonetheless, as hopeful as Lexie may be for the most part, she was also greatly aware of how damaging too much optimism could be. “Y’know, it’ll be good for these people if you stick around,” she admitted. “Pessimism eats everyone up from the inside out and it’s been a long time since they’ve heard anything else.” Even those who once clung to hope had now surrendered it within their grasp. They’d crumbled like society, unable to re-instill what they once believed. “I guess mindsets change, but it’d never hurt to give these people something to hold onto.” No matter how fleeting the conversation may have been, the company of the other female had only caused Lexie to question herself and the very emotions she often ran from. “Damn shame that council isn’t around anymore.”

Celeste had spent the last weeks, maybe months, on her own. To say she had gotten used to the solitude was an understatement. The sound of her mere voice was strange to her ears, thus the sound of someone else genuine laughter made lips split into a grin. Without even thinking about it, she joined into the laughter. Glad that her little comment could make someone laugh. “I did say it was a brilliant quote, didn’t I?” She teasingly reminded her. It was sad how they could find amusement in the smallest of things. That in this dark world, the smallest of light was appreciated. “Can’t fight you on that one, though my favorite was Piglet. Mostly because he was adorable.” 

For once, Celeste began to relax. She could literally feel her muscles begin to slump down. Even her breathing was not as harsh. Not only was the darkness comforting, but also this conversation that turned out to be a little more different than she had envision it. Her grin descended into a small smile, but it was still there nonetheless. Everyone had their different opinions, ways of looking at the world, and coping with what the world had become. Celeste would not judge them if their opinions differ. With a shake of her head, she continue to tap her gun against her leg. Hope was what had gotten her through her life. It was finding that silver lining that made her want to keep fighting. If she didn’t have something good to fight for, then she did not know why she would keep fighting at all. 

Celeste remained quiet until Lexie made the comment that it would be good for the people if she stay. “What?” She breathed out, raising her eyes in confusion. “Should I feel flattered? Just got here and already telling me to stay.” The girl teasingly went on to say, shaking her head slightly before looking back out to the sky. “I doubt I can give people hope. They have to find that themselves. Find the thing they are fighting for. Plus, don’t you think people are holding on to something? Let it be selfish or selfless.” She was just a girl trying to survive as well. “But...--what’s the council?”

[thepiperhollis]

back to zero; piper and celeste

[ofventura-blog]

thepiperhollis:

As Celeste apologised, Piper paused, she knew she should accept the apology as it was, but there was a small part of her that remained slightly angry, hurt by the reaction she had received, so she stayed silent, shrugging a shoulder, feigning nonchalance, though internally she was anything but nonchalant.

She let out a quiet sigh, moving closer to her friend, ignoring the bitterness she felt inside, and at once she tried to push away any negativity she felt, stewing in her own hatred would do nothing but be a hindrance, and that wasn’t what she needed, or needed to be.

A quick glance at the floor had Piper securing a facade of carelessness, now was not the time for her to close up, to be distant. They had made it, they had survived, the pair of them had made it together. “It’s fine, I shouldn’t have just barged in anyway…” She spoke honestly and smiled slightly at the brunette who was perched upon one of the beds in the room, and Piper herself moved to sit on the other bed, sitting opposite Celeste.

“Are you okay, though?” The question was posed carefully, the tone it was spoken with soft, caring, and hopefully it was clear that Piper meant apart from the excuse of being tired. She didn’t know why exactly she cared so much about Celeste, but it was nice to have someone to care about with no agenda.

Celeste prided herself in saying she was a levelheaded person. That in a time of crisis, she could keep calm. She always professed that anger never got anyone anywhere. Except anger was all she was feeling right now. It was becoming clear that she did not know how to handle it. She had Natalia to anchor her down before. She now felt utterly alone. 

When Piper’s eyes moved to stare at the ground, her own eyes moved to look at the oxygen tank she had tossed earlier. The medicine she had knocked over in her desperation. All of that had happen after she had grabbed her gun and ran from the attack. Hide and trembled. The girl had yet to shed tears, but at the thought of that she wanted to. Whoever that girl had been, it had not been the brave, levelheaded girl she had been so long ago. 

She had felt scared, weak, powerless. 

                               And every part of her hated that. 

Doctors had shown her how to deal with her medical conditions out in the world on her own. They hadn’t shown her how to deal with them out in an apocalyptic world. She was struggling to figure everything out, but she was not about to place all that burden on Piper. She had done enough by shouting at her, and she already felt like shit for doing that. Maybe she deserved to feel this way, but Piper did not deserved to be the outlet of her anger. 

"No, please, forgive me. I’m just tense, and...--it’s not like this room is mine,” she continue to beg for forgiveness with her words and eyes. Her eyes lasted on Piper for a fragment of a moment until they moved away to look at something else at the question. She caught the sight of the old oxygen tank, the new one, the inhaler, the medicine she had knocked down, the gun that remained on the floor. All before they landed on Piper again. 

“I’m okay.” She replied. “I’m fine.” The way she spoke was like she was trying to reassure herself more than Piper. “I’ll be fine.” Somehow, she always was. “You look great though!” Celeste began to shift the spotlight to her instead. “You sounded great when you came in. Not that you didn’t before, or that you looked ugly before. You look amazing. Like you’re not living in an apocalyptic world. You’re like sunshine, especially your hair. It’s so..--yellow. I mean...--Oh god, I need to shut up.” She felt herself begin to blush, her rambling mouth returning in the presence of Piper. That usually only happen when she was excited or nervous. “Ignore everything I just said. how are you?”

[ofventura-blog]

for the wrong reasons | celeste and piper

[ofventura-blog]

thepiperhollis:

Piper smiled as the other snatched up the bottle, starting to drink quickly, clearly having been more thirsty than she had let on, and Piper was glad she could have helped out, even if it was only in the way of quenching the thirst. Celeste offered assistance in case it was ever needed, and though Piper hadn’t intended on such a reaction, she was glad she would have someone in her corner if she needed it. “Yeah, I’m pretty sure it’s April, anyway. It’s been like 6 months or whatever since the monsters showed up so…”

Though she was relatively sure of what she had said about the dates, Piper didn’t hold much hope that she was correct, considering how no one else seemed to know, and she was attempting to figure it out with the weather. “I mean it’s gotta be spring right, because we had all that snow like 3 months ago so, logically speaking, it’d be April.” Her final sentence was spoken with a small smile, hoping the other would understand how her logic had worked it all out.

The woman beside her let out a laugh and Piper glanced at her from the corner of her eye, a small laugh falling from her own lips as Celeste spoke just as mockingly as she herself had done and Piper turned her eyes back to the larger group arguing by the doors. “The only distracting things I can think of is playing little games, like 20 questions, or I-Spy or something…”

Celeste was horrible at reading people. Mostly because she always tried to see the good in them, blinded herself even. People could turn out to be the worst person ever and the brunette would still be there believing that there had to be some good in them, even if her guts told her not to do it. She wanted to believe that, it was just sometimes hard to do so, especially in this new world. With Piper, she had let the appearances speak for her. The blonde was petite, fragile, and in her mind, not a threat. But the fact that Piper had given her water when she was just a stranger, some random girl that had joined the group, just reinforced her thought that there was good in this world. Piper was the first light of hope that Celeste had seen in apparently six months. 

“Six months,” she whispered, eyes dropping to the floor. It was like cold bucket of ice that had been dropped on her when she realize that she had spent the majority of those six months alone. Celeste did not know if to see it was a miracle or a curse that she had survived this long. Now she understood why she felt like crap. Why she was jumpy at the slightest sound. Her hand always going for the gun that had been her companion for six months. “To be honest, I don’t even know what month the world went to hell,” she admitted with a soft chuckle, her head shaking. Everything had happen so fast. 

Running her pale fingers through her brown, messy hair she shook her head again. Everything felt so surreal, but she could not focus on what had happen in the last months but had not. Like finding her family. The girl beside her could be a key to ending her personal mission, but strangely enough, that was not what was on her mind at the moment. For the first time in six months, she was smiling and laughing. “How about we play 20 questions since I’ve never played I-spy?” She suggested. “Or maybe two truths and a lie?”

[davineclaire]

[ofventura-blog]

robatkins:

There was a burning sensation behind his eyes. Lack of sleep that had been needing for what seemed like years was starting to come crashing down. Yet, he had no desire to sleep, not wishing to return back to the nightmares that seemed to eat him whole. Light sleep kept the monsters away, the ones that clawed into his mind and never seemed to let  him go, breathing ideas of his heritage into his mind. If he stayed awake long enough, he would crash into a hard slumber that that demons could not shatter. He would be safe from the poison. Most of the hospital had been swept for clickers, or survivors, and he was left alone to wander and pick up medications he would need. His memory meant that he never needed a pencil to note were things were, and he spent a decent amount of time hiding things away from the other survivors. 

Rob knew how to play these game, how to keep the pills away from the drug fiends that were among them. His thoughts drew to his sister, wondering if she’d be able to keep clean with temptation so close now. He did not want to have go through a detox once again, her words still burned into his mind. He knew she did not mean them, she wasn’t herself, but the fact that even someone who wasn’t herself was still capable of saying that was hard to comprehend. His judgement and mind had always been obscured when she was in the picture. Debating on the obvious, he wondered if they were to be alone out there if it would be better or worse. The effects she had on him–it made him rash and unpredictable. Out there, he was something else, some other beast.

He looked in one the scenes of grim rooms with unyielding, detached eyes. Reminded of the asylum (if one was allowed to really call them that anymore) he recoiled from the scenes mentally, barricading his already compromised mind from further damage. How many suicide attempts did he walk into? How many destructive scenes of people too out of their senses had he watched? People who scratched at their skin until it bleed, dark jagged line from their nails. People who pulled their hair out one strand at a time until half their head was bald. Those who were mad and had to be restrained. The yells, the speaking in tongues, and so much more. Blood, feces, urine, anything was game there. Under staffed and funded by the government: it showed the people who worked that hardest when people were at their worst.

From somewhere down the hall, he heard a crash, and vacant eyes narrowed, trying to discern the direction that it came from. This floor had already been cleared of things that hunted them, which meant that it was human. Leery to draw his weapon, he likely figured that not having it in his hand would end poorly for him, but he was tired, so very tired, and in an odd way, figured he could talk his way out of this one, as he usually did. He missed who he was, not who he was becoming. He missed the world were people did not attempt to roll over him, where there some amount of respect for humans. It was odd–surely in a world were humans were becoming an endangered species, one would choose humanity, but such was not the case. They were baser animals.

Opening the door, he saw a girl rummaging through the cabinets. Her breathing was fractured, coming out in tight gasps. Panic attack, mixed with something else. He could hear the slight wheeze at the end of her breaths. Digging around, he  decided to help her. Finding the inhaler that would at least open her airways a little more, he said, “Here. Albuterol inhaler. You’re not allergic to anything, right?” His hand was out, the inhaler a gesture of good faith. “What else do you need? I can help, I know medication like the back of my hand.”

All Celeste could think as her fingers drummed against all the medicine in the cabinet was about the pain in her chest. 

                                     She was drowning. 

At least that was what it felt like to her. Her head was beginning to pound. The girl felt like she was a fish out of the water -- desperate for air that she could not get. Her throat felt dry and it hurt to try to inhale through it, but she kept trying. 

Breathe. Calm down. She chanted to herself as she began to knock medicine out of the way. Celeste was no longer looking for medicine, but for some type of inhaler. Please, please, be here, she began to beg in her head as the only thing coming out of her mouth was a horrible whizzing sound of air. The idea of this being the end of herself made her even more desperate. 

Celeste was so preoccupied in her own fear and desperation she did not even hear the stranger that was helping her. At least not until he was right by her side, taking her by surprise. The already frighten girl jumped out of her skin, hands dropping bottles of medicine as she reached behind her to get her gun, forgetting that she had dropped it. Green eyes that were usually warm and filled with light were now vacant, scared, and desperate. 

That fear was quickly replaced with relief and immediate gratitude towards this male when she saw the inhaler. She knew that it would open her air passages and make it easier to breathe for herself, at least enough to make this pain in her chest and head to cease. Rapidly, she took the inhaler into her possession and began to use it. Her eyelids fluttered close as she felt her air passages slowly open up, allowing some air to go through them. She found it ironic that a simple little inhaler could mean the difference between life an death to her. 

Eventually, she felt the air beginning to hit the back of her tight throat, irritating it and making it slightly uncomfortable. There was only so much an inhaler could do for someone with mucus lining their air pathways. Celeste released the inhaler from her dry lips, her hand coming behind her to rest against the counter and hold herself up. 

“I-I..--” Her eyes began to shift everywhere as she attempted to recollect the name of the medicine or device she would greatly appreciate right now, but fear was clouding her mind, keeping her from thinking beyond death. It was no secret that the girl was scared of death. Using the inhaler one last time, she dropped it on the counter and turned around to rest both of her hands on it. Her chest heaving as she attempted to take deep breaths. 

It’s not real. It’s not real. Don’t let it control you. Focus. She gave herself words of encouragement with each deep breath that went into her mouth. Celeste had to remind herself that this fear was not real, that she could not let it cripple her or she would be dead.

“I need DNase, through a nebulizer,” she finally manage to breathe out. The male said he knew medicine like the back of his hand, which was more than Celeste’s smaller medical training. 

[ofventura-blog]

alexandraliddell:

Alex’s breath held as the younger woman told her story, trepidation crawling up her spine. Better to answer her question first, than to ask the questions that might have answers she didn’t want to know.  “I was miles out – I’d gotten trapped away from the city, for a while, but I was heading back, when it happened.”  She paused then, and added; “the bombs hit … and people were still there?  Were there other survivors?  Still left inside maybe?”

"You were in the city before.” It sounded like a question but it was more of Celeste repeating the obvious. She would be lying if she said that she was not curious as to why someone would leave their safe haven; a place with walls like the cit. “Obviously, I think the whole point of that attack was to kill. I doubt it was for show, but again, you are asking the wrong girl, sister,” she added with a teasing smile. “I was not in the city when the attack happen. I was outside. From what I could see people were just scattering everywhere. I don’t know if everyone made it out.” She would love to know the answer to that too. “I couldn’t run into the city with..--” my condition, she left out. “so I just retreated back, found a group that had made it out and followed them.” With raised eyebrows Celeste began to ask her own questions. “Did you have someone in the city?” It was either that or the dark-haired female was just a curious little thing. 

back to zero; piper and celeste

[ofventura-blog]

thepiperhollis:

Though they had only met recently, and they were still relative strangers, Piper still trusted Celeste, for some reason she didn’t know entirely. But it was nice, knowing someone who didn’t seem to mind how she was as a person, who didn’t mind how annoying she could be.

Though the pathways of the hospital were long and occasionally confusing, Piper seemed to know exactly where she could find her new friend, and walked the path carefully, checking the turnoffs around her to make sure she was entirely safe.

Soon enough, she came across a familiar face, and a smile spread across her own. “Hey, Celeste…” She started, her voice level, her heas held high, she was being better. But when Celeste responded with venom in her voice, a look if disgust on her face, she retreated into her shell slightly, her expression falling. “You know what, uh, never mind, it doesn’t matter.”

Celeste had been able to obtain some of the medication she required, but the empty oxygen tank was her constant reminder of what she would need in the end. There was only so much some medication could do for her. They could open up her air passages, get the mucus out, but what use would that be if her lungs needed help getting the oxygen? When simply inhaling like any other person was no longer possible?

One of the things the marines had taught her was to keep a level head; remain calm in desperate times. That was before they tossed her into battle and she came out with a tormented mind. Keeping her sanity was a lot easier said than done. She had yet to find Natalia, and if she did not get that oxygen, she never would. The brunette was desperate, scared.

People did horrible things when they were faced with death or scared. 

To her luck, she let out this pent up frustration towards herself out on the first possible friend she could make in this place filled with strangers. The smaller blonde had helped her, gave her water when noone else had, and now Celeste was shooting daggers at her with her green, tired eyes. Great fucking job Celeste, she scowled at herself as she took a step back and her expression soften. 

It was not Piper’s fault that she was stuck in this war against herself. It was her stupid genetics. “I’m sorry, Piper. I didn’t mean to...--I’m..--I’m just..--” She replied back softly, but there was a roughness in her tone due to her trouble in breathing. “I need...--I thought you were..--” She couldn’t even get the explanation out of her mouth. “I shouldn’t have snapped like that. I’m just..--tired.” 

[ofventura-blog]

lexierivera:

“I don’t need a sorry,” she admitted, no harshness emitted from her vocal chords. It was such an unnecessary word when your surroundings often entailed loss. To apologise for a casualty was as pointless as reveling in it. If you opted to do so, to show kindness so commonly, the female believed it would be the only word to grace your tongue. In the apocalypse, through a barren wasteland, the deceased could be perceived as the lucky ones. How misfortune was a short  explanation for those who endured starvation and frozen flesh; for those who had faced Death in the midst of falling victim to their demons and only escaped by the skin of their teeth. 

How lucky am I to have something that makes saying goodbye so hard.

For a brief moment, her facial features alternated into a sign of appreciation. Brutality was often so commonplace that the genuine nature of the other was a change of pace Lexie had only ever desired. If only more people came with the capability to douse the world alight with compassion.

“Is that what you think?” She asked, directing her curiosity towards the dirt of the earth. Hazel eyes had found shelter in the surface beneath her feet, as if it was capable of luring out the often unspoken concerns which remained to etch against her bones. “That it’s lucky to lose a feeling than to have never felt it?” Lexie found it hard to believe. Surely the inability to place yourself in the line of fire, awaiting the oncoming hurt, was a choice which made far greater sense than welcoming the sensation with open arms. “I don’t know if I see things in such a light.” Although her admittance was merely a half-truth, greatly aware of her stance on such an idea, she allowed herself the brief moment to accept the possibility. “I think maybe that was the reason I lost people well before Fall City was even a thing, y’know. Consider it protecting my own back.”

"I know you don’t need it.” Celeste immediately told her. No one truly needed the pity of others, especially a stranger like herself. She had heard enough ‘i’m sorry’s’ to know that they did nothing. No sorry would bring back the dead and they sure as hell would not make the pain go away. “It’s just the nice, respectful thing to do.” More like the common thing in society. “Call it natural instinct,” she kept explaining herself. The last thing the brunette wanted was for Lexie to think she was being pitied upon. Celeste had seen comrades die in battle, lost her own father, lost a friend. That ‘I’m sorry’ was like an automatic respond she had built into herself. 

The two girls had just met. All by a random chance that they were sitting next to each other in the darkness. She could already gather one thing about her though -- she spoke her mind. Which was not necessary a bad thing since Celeste tended to do the same thing. Not to mention it kept the conversation going. After travelling alone for a long time, it felt nice to sit down and speak to someone. Even if it was about the one thing that now surrounded them -- death. 

"It’s what Winnie the Pooh thinks,” she pointed out with a little chuckle before she fell silent and heard her out. Celeste clenched her fingers tighter around her gun, tapping it against her leg as she bobbed her head slowly to show that she was listening. Her thumb beginning to tap the hammer part of the gun. After the stranger, Lexie, had finished expressing her opinion, Celeste remained quiet. Her eyes focus on the night sky. She understood where the girl was coming from. At times it felt like feeling this pain was a curse. That not feeling anything was better. Especially when that pain grew so much it someone could not breathe. 

“I think it’s lucky we can feel at all,” she finally replied, letting the gun fall limp in her hold. “People will die all the time, apocalyptic disease or not, and it will hurt like a bitch. But it’s what makes us human, more right now than ever before. I don’t know about you, but I rather die in pain knowing that I’m leaving someone behind than dying trying to kill those I love because I felt nothing at all. What can I say? I’m a half glass type of girl.”

[ofventura-blog]

bloodybyrd:

It was only an hour after the incident that Byrd noticed he was bleeding. 

Somewhere along the crossing of the river he’d felt a sharp pain on his side, the kind that you can only ever get from metal. As always, he ignored it, because there was nothing to be done, and because injuries slowed you down. Thus he refused to acknowledge ever having one.  

He didn’t look down until the group reached the hospital. It seemed ironic then, that that’s where they would end up straying. Finally he was able to breathe– and look down. His shirt had long since dried off the water from the river, but the red that streamed down his torso was wet as a new coat of paint. When he held up his shirt, trying to have a look at the wound underneath, he saw how white he’d gotten beneath the tattoos. He stood out especially pale against the black.

Byrd did a good enough job at acting fine in front of the others as he walked inside and through the corridors, but practically stumbled his way inside a room when he finally found one that was empty. Maybe he closed the door, maybe he didn’t. Byrd was only half-way inside the infirmary and he already couldn’t remember.

He quickly and painfully took off his shirt, a groan escaping his lips as the fabric briefly got stuck to the wound and pulled at it. Good news, it was just a cut. Bad news, it was a big one, and he had zero to no idea of how to deal with it. Again, he ignored how much it was bothering him, immediately turning to a small metal cabinet and looking for anything that could be of help– needle and thread sadly being the only things that came to mind. 

Fighting off the blood loss daze, he started looking, knocking off half of the things from their shelves.

She was still breathing. 

Celeste could not ask for more in the conditions she was in now. She had a roof over her head, medicine to at least keep her going, and more oxygen in case her lungs decided to be assholes again. She was in better conditions than she had been in weeks ago, that she could admit and be grateful for. She had made it to a safe haven for herself. It just had taken miles of walking, lungs almost giving up on her, and for a herd of infected to attack them. Not to mention the panic attack she had gone into. Celeste attempted to not be hard on herself for that break down she had during the attack. She could remember the doctors telling her she needed to rest, get out of combat. Not only was her body system collapsing, but she was suffering from PTSD. Those doctors just hadn’t known that they were taking her out of one war and tossing her into a brand new one. Nonetheless..-- she was alive. That counted for something. 

Anyone could see that the brunette was in no condition to go around the hospital. Not only was she was strangely pale and sickly looking, but she was hooked to a brand new oxygen tank. She looked like shit, she was aware of that, but the new oxygen that was entering her lungs was making her feel a whole lot better. She had also found some medicine she recognize to help her get rid of some of the mucus lining her pathways. The bathroom had witness her coughing out excess amount of mucus. It was a miracle that she had made it this far. She was grateful. 

Celeste was by a window she had pushed open. It was foolish, but she was standing there pretending that the soft breeze that was ruffling her brown curls was the same one that was going up her nose. She could almost ignore the tube that was up her nose and giving her that oxygen that made her shoulders relax. When she realize what she was doing she could not help but chuckle at herself. She felt like a little girl just standing there fantasizing over something. 

Her little delusion was broken when she heard someone stumbling on their feet and entering a room near the one she was in. With a little frown she told herself to leave it be, but the next thing you know, she was grabbing the handle to her oxygen tank and rolling it behind her as she made her way to the source of the sound. At first she only found a half closed door. Slowly, she pushed the door open so she could pass through. Once she did she could see that someone had in fact entered the room she had been in during the attack. 

It was not the fact that he was shirtless that made her wince a little but the wound he was revealing by peeling off his shirt. From where she stood she could see it was a deep cut and that the person had obviously lost a lot of blood already from how they were just stumbling around. It was not until the stranger began to knock things off that Celeste moved forward. She knew how it felt to be desperate for the medicine needed to survive. Someone had helped her, and now it was her turn. She wasn’t even going to hesitate. 

Rolling her oxygen tank behind her she approached them until she was standing beside them. “Hey, hey, I have some medical training. Why don’t you sit down and I help you with that nasty wound?” She spoke in her usual calm and gentle voice. “I will even do it free of charge,” she added teasingly as a friendly smile decorated her features. 

[ofventura-blog]

diana--white:

Diana had seen the worst in people emerge throughout the end of the world. Her and Hunter running into groups where there was only malice in a person’s eyes, and their hands were itching to pull a trigger. Human, clicker. It didn’t matter much. Those were who Diana had steered clear of, anticipating how bad things could get if she said the wrong thing, if she was assumed to be rummaging around somewhere she shouldn’t be. Her and Hunter had survived as a unit: both physical and mental. She had him to thank for the reason why she was able to speak to this woman and she hoped in her heart he was okay out there. He was able to fire a gun, but he was equally as able to drift into a place dark and unforgiving. There would be no one to pull him back, allowing him to submerge deeper and deeper. Avoiding being shot didn’t mean anyone was out of the woods. 

What Diana also knew was small talk was foolish. There was no such circumstance that was nice to meet anyone under. Either they were running, dying, or trying to continue and each form held its own kind of desperation. The last thing people wanted to discuss was what the weather was like or simple greetings. For Diana it was a sense of normalcy and politeness. Her manners had gotten her this far as did her personality. She was pleasant when she needed to be and sharp when everything else failed. It was how she made it through her past and how she was going to make it now – especially if those she loved were in fact dead. Because they would be counting on her. Because she had lives to represent if this shitty situation somehow righted itself. 

She wasn’t going to get her hopes up about that option. She did not have blinders on her eyes. A cure was eons away and with the dispersal of Fall City, any chance of it being completed was lost or so she assumed. Even those who were working on it could be a pile of ash. God would have helped if they truly existed. God would have shown them a way and yes, God provided trials and tribulations, though this was exhausting. It was much easier to shun away her faith than it was to believe when all evidence went against what she had been taught. Her parents wouldn’t be proud of her, but this life was entirely different than where she had come from.

The journey to the farmhouse was mostly quiet, the woman asking a question which she cut off as she saw the camp which had been made around the building. Diana caught a glimpse of hope in her gaze. 

She wanted to see someone as they all did.

“There’s about twenty or so here. There were way more in the city we came from, maybe a little under a hundred. Dunno where they are now. The bombs hit and everyone scattered. Hoping to find someone? I can try and let ya’ know if I’ve heard of them.”

Truth be told, Celeste did not know how she had survived this far. She had been alone since day one, travelling by foot when the gas ran out. Some might even say, God was on her side with her condition. It was true, she did carry a gun around. It was also true that she knew how to aim and pull a trigger. She had done it several times in the marines. But there was a fine difference between knowing how to pull a trigger and actually doing it. It was so much easier pulling the trigger when she did not know the person. 

Her eyes flashed down to the gun she was still holding -- that oxygen tank and gun were what her life depended on. Unlike Diana, Celeste was alone and with no one to truly help her. Not that she expected that out of them. The last person that tried to help her, ended up dead. Those memories flooded into her mind the longer she starred at the gun. The brunette could clearly remember starring at Emmet in the eye as he charged for her. She had known he had been infected and was no longer the friend that had kept her safe. He was out for her blood now. She remembered aiming the gun at his head and thinking how she would be doing him a favor. Celeste almost remembered how her hands trembled, because she could not pull the trigger. She had to stand by and let someone else do the killing for her. 

Everyone around her died except the girl who could no longer breathe.

Celeste blinked rapidly, as if trying to keep tears at bay, but none were even shining in her eyes. Even though the memories were painful, it kept her from feeling a little awkward at the vacant air surrounding them. One look at the girl and one would think she was some introvert that kept to herself. That was only because she had been alone for quite a while. In times before this, she had actually been very outgoing and loved making friends. Just now she no longer knew what to even talk about. The weather? The latest news? How infected were taking over their home? 

The sight of the farmhouse was a welcoming distraction to her rapidly working brain. Twenty people. She could care less about nineteen of them as long as one of them was the girl she was looking for. “I know,” she whispered softly as she set down her oxygen tank to give her arm some rest. Green eyes shifting to look at Diana with a little smile tugging at her lips. “Either I’m really obvious or you can read people well,” Celeste commented lightheartedly. “My friend, basically a sister to me. Her name is Natalia. I was coming to Fall City in hopes of her being there. Like you said, the bombs hit everywhere and people scattered. I couldn’t even get into the city to look for her. I’ll find her thought, thank you.” She would find her if it was the last thing she did.