Vigliacco

A high heart ought to bear calamities and not flee them, since in bearing them appears the grandeur of the mind and in fleeing them the cowardice of the heart.

[bringthecain-blog]

a sense of home  ( ricolette )

[riicore-blog]

bringthecain:

                         It took a moment to catch her breath.

It was caught against her lips, forcing itself to move out despite everything holding them back. She could barely imagine the dark thoughts she allowed herself. The tension of them even allowed her to push away one of her closest friends - just at the mere MENTION of the man before her. She tried to make it seem like she was alright. She tried to push back any sort of worry in the back of her mind. She had to be one of the strong ones. That was her deal while out in the wild. She had to make sure she took the weight of others.

                         There was no time for her to worry about the ones she may have                          lost.    She couldn’t worry about them simply because she allowed                           no other choice.   Now, there was no reason to be strong.   There                          was no reason to hold weight that she couldn’t carry.      It felt too                          raw and perhaps that was her fault. She allowed herself to be so                          numbed to the fact that she might have lost them all – especially                          Rico. 

Her hand cupped his face, brows knitting together in concern. Always the mother, wasn’t she? Her thumb traced the cut, a soft gasp falling past her lips at the sight of it. He was hurt. Part of her wanted to be enraged, but she knew that the man himself brought it upon himself. He could never hold his tongue as sharply as she could.

                         His hand pushed back her hair. That’s when it snapped - the small                          thread within herself that was holding everything together. Tears                          fell against her cheek as a smile struggled against her lips. With a                          soft nod, the brunette sniffed lightly. Christ, she shouldn’t have                          cried over this. There should of been relief, not a sudden fear to                          realizing that she didn’t lose anyone. She didn’t lose everything.

“I – I’m okay.” She struggled out with a sniffle. Her hand clutched against him with a shiver. “I can’t believe - I honestly thought you didn’t make it. I was coming back from the lab and you just – I did not have enough time to — I thought…” She could barley even say the word. 

                                  “What about you? What did you do to                                   yourself, sweetheart?”

He couldn’t let her go, so much had happened to them in such a short amount of time, he had dove too deep into  this; Rico had let her capture him mind, body, and soul.  The man was letting her heal the broken pieces of him that he thought would never be seen again let alone  touched so gently and with so much love. 

Love-- God, what a feeling, he had missed it. 

Being loved and giving love. It had been so far in the back of his mind that the man thought he had forgotten how to do it, but here he was, holding her so carefully and giving every ounce of affection she was giving to him. God could damn his soul and Rico was so sure that was exactly what would happen, but he could go to hell gladly just knowing that he left the world loved. 

Her tears were not unforgotten but he wished they weren’t there, a moment of concern creased his face in question whether he was the cause or not. God he hated himself for hurting her those times, but he didn’t want to do it, he just wanted her away from him-- safe from the monster that he  was. But she loved him regardless. 

“You don’t seem okay, love--” He hummed, hand still caressing her cheek before he sighed. When the bombs had hit he hadn’t been prepared, he had only looked for her briefly before killing those that stood in his way. He was still a monster. “Shhh-- hey... It’s okay, we’re both here Lottie. We’re alive, I--- I feared the same for you.” Honesty, it felt so strange, like a lurch in his stomach,  almost as if he had butterflies. “I’m---” He was glad she was okay, Lord only knew what he would have done if she hadn’t lived. Of  course he had prepared himself, but that didn’t mean he wanted it. Words escaped him so the Italian leaned in to press another,  softer yet claiming kiss to her lips, expressing that he was glad she was still alive, that he missed her-- hell, that he loved her, even if it was in some shadow form of love that he once had been capable of. “I’m alright, just a scrap between some morons.”

“Now tell me really, how are you?”

[bringthecain-blog]

a sense of home  ( ricolette )

[riicore-blog]

bringthecain:

                        It took moments before she even realized - before she even found it                         upon herself to believe. Eyes wide, her chest tightened. The one man                         she believed to be dead among the rest. He was there - scowl etched                         into his features just as it always was. She couldn’t speak. She could                         barely register what was flickering before her. Rico.                “You’re –.”

There was a chance she could breathe again. She didn’t step forward and embrace him.     No, there was a different beast against her chest. Something willed her to lift her chin and pull him down without  much to any warning.     Her lips met against his own, claiming him in those few seconds alone.      Her other hand was tight against his shirt while she stood on her toes. Tears breached her gaze, compromising her uneven stance next to him. Her weight rest against him, not wanting to lean too much against her bad leg.

    He’d be lying if Rico said that he hadn’t been looking for her,     looking for the petite woman hobbling around helping everyone     but herself. His dark eyes scanned lazily, acting as if he was      really not phased by all that had happened and really he was not     so unbroken as he acted. Everything that had transpired really     was him breaking, the fighting and the vulgar words, anything to     get those around him away, save them from the monster that      lurked just beneath the surface under his skin.

One word, it only took one fucking word---

Then she was against him, the familiar heat and comfort of who had become his home was back again and Rico didn’t even try to bother and withhold himself. Her lips snared his and the man leaned in to allow such intimacy, his arms snaking around her torso to support and pull her close. Jesus Fucking Christ, she made it. Rico had been prepared for her demise, prepared for the moment Charlotte died because he was so sure he’d lose  her one way or another. He’d let himself have this moment too, the imaginary moment that they could actually survive this shit hole, this fucked up piece of shit world, that maybe they actually belonged.

      His breath caught in his throat and he delved in, closing out       everything else around them. All he focused on was Charlotte,       all that mattered was her-- in this moment he had a second        chance to be a better man, with her he was a better man.        She stole his breath and he was perfectly okay with that.

“Ho temuto il peggio il mio amore.”

          He breathed, eyes finally searching her gaze, one hand            gently pressing against her cheek while the other supported           her against him. Allowing the rest of her weight to fall against          him in support. Rico looked a mess, although his busted lip          and the gash above his eye had been taken care of it was more          than obvious he had been in a fight, of his own doing but that           didn’t matter at the moment. A small smile, somewhat pained          and sad, pressed at his lips as he pushed her hair back out of          her face with a content sigh. A genaric question was on his           razor tongue, but he asked it anyways, because he fucking cared.          The god damn fool-- “Are you okay?”

[incorrectclonewarsquotes]

I’m not questioning your honor, I’m denying its existence.

Obi Wan to Count Dooku (via incorrectclonewarsquotes)

[riicore-blog]

I don't know what people see in you or why they think you're worth something, you're a fucking murderer.

“And you’re a fucking dildo but people talk to you all the fucking time. Fuck off.”

[aidenholmvik-deactivated2016010]

harder than stone || aiden/rico

[riicore-blog]

aidenholmvik:

( @riicore )

A soft sigh escaped her lips at the sight of the scowling Italian. She was fond of him, quietly adopting him into her life. Rico was the first roommate she had in Fall City, the first person so share her life in such a way. He got suckered into fixing odd things, helping with the plants, and she would repay him by taking care of the little things that he always seemed to forget. Fix a button on a shirt, or a hole in a pair of jeans, bring him food when he was sulking and trying to keep him out trouble. 

There was a bruise blooming on her cheek, the throbbing in the back of neck from the blow back was a bit concerning but it wasn’t broken, she’d know if something was broken or fractured, and nothing seemed to be. She was lucky, really, and wanted to move past the fight. That was her business and no one else’s. Gently, she reached to touch Rico’s arm.

“Hey, you.”

Was he glad most of the city was still alive? Not really, there were only a few people he would even think to care about but two of which were fully his own causing; they were and had become family, Giano and Charlotte. Aiden, on the other hand, his previous roommate had somehow managed to weasel her way into his life and made a place for herself there. It still amazed Rico how it happened in all honesty, he hadn’t planned on getting attached or letting anyone get attached to him at all yet here it happened and this bombing put into perspective, slightly, how much of a dick he had been to those people. But then again, he was in a constant state of not caring, especially when he didn’t escape the city with any of the people he cared about-- and when he got in a fight with that pompous ass Casey, the guy who thought he could save the group he’d managed to find himself in. Then he became an outcast, the way he should have been the entire time.

Now things were almost back to normal, he still hadn’t found that one person he’d been looking for but there were a few people he cared about. Like his brother and---

Scrutinizing dark eyes narrowed as he felt someone touch him, the man almost flinched but as his gaze found that of Aiden’s he eased down without even thinking. A small and almost genuine smile brushed his lips as his dark gaze searched her face. He knew these marks but he also knew it wasn’t his business, even still his fatherly nature blossomed for a moment.

“Hey, kid.”

Rico replied, swallowing the lump in his throat as he leaned into her touch, more so offering comfort than taking it. He didn’t need it, he was a stone cold hearted man, nothing could shock him--- nothing could frighten him, not anymore. A nod towards her cheek showed his concern, something he wasn’t about to hide, he was tired and didn’t feel like bullshitting Aiden when she already knew how to see right through him. 

“You alright there? Do I need to kick someone’s ass?”

It was genuine concern, showing in his eyes as they lightened to a more chocolate shade, better than his dark and moody gaze. He didn’t look any better, what with his busted lip, bruised face and a good gash above his eye, evidence that he did not at all get along with someone or rather, multiple someone’s. 

[ventimigrillo]

[riicore-blog]

“ Nice spin, you should work for Bush. ”

[riicore-blog]

{ from reclaimedasset }

[ ❄ ] Basics;

Name: Rico Antony Palcore Alias ( nicknames ): Ric, shit head, fucker. Gender: Male Age: 38 Date of birth: June 6th, 1977 Spoken languages: English, Italian. Occupation: Fisherman Criminal record: Doesn’t have one but that’s only because he wasn’t caught. Disorders:  Asshole disorder, anger issues, probably some form of PTSD or hallucinations. Eye color: Brown Hair color: Black Height: 5′9 Scars: There are several that scatter his arms and torso from work related accidents, mostly his hands bear the scars of a hard working man. But since the apocalypse he’s gotten several more, almost unnoticeable but they are there, one on his lower back and the other by his collar bone. Burns: None

[ ❄ ] Favorites;

Color: Grays, black, darker colors. Song: Dark Times by The Weeknd ft. Ed Sheraan Food: Mama’s cooking. Drink: Chocolate milk Candy: Starburst

[ ❄ ] Experiences;

Had sex: Yes Had sex in public: No Gotten pregnant: No Kissed a boy: No Kissed a girl: Yes Gotten tattoos: Yes, several. Gotten piercings: No Smoked / drank / done drugs: Yes / Yes / No Had a broken heart: Yes Been in love: Yes Needed surgery: No Stayed up for more than 24 hours: Yes

[ ❄ ] Misc;

A virgin: No A cuddler: When he wants to be, yes. A kisser: Yes Scared easily: Not really Jealous easily: Basically Trustworthy: When he wants to be. Single: Yes In a relationship: Kinda sorta, probably would say no. 

Considered mean: Hahah, yes. Harmed themselves: Accidentally/Unintentionally Thought of suicide: Yes Attempted suicide: Yes Wanted to kill someone: Yes Have / had a job: Yes

[bringthecain-blog]

hold your liquor ; ricolette

[riicore-blog]

bringthecain:

“You’re a fucking idiot.” The brunette let out a loud laugh, covering her lips as the light sound bubbled past her lips. It was a loving tone, despite her teasing. Her arms tangled with his own. The bottle fell against her lips, titling it up to take a few gulps. One thing she never imagined was sitting there - drinking with a man that never took a drop before. It was pleasant in its own strange way. His head was lulling, spinning around when the world dazed him into the brightest smile she’d ever seen from him. Well, maybe whiskey was good for more than just enjoying. She shifted her body to give him more room. The way he pressed against her. It felt safe. It felt warm despite the coldness he usually brushed towards her.

“Take off your clothes. Problem solved.” Charlotte winked towards the man beside her. She leaned over, drinking in a little bit more before resting the bottle on the night stand beside her bed. As he struggled to take off the jacket, the brunette leaned forward and shook her head towards his nonsense. “Oh hon.” Her tone poured out in the most sappy and amusement tone she could muster.

“Yeah well, I’m your fucking idiot.” He chided before grunting at the fact of what he had just said was perhaps a bit more possessive than he might have liked if he were sober. Whiskey did things to him, made him more honest for one thing but also made him into a complete goober, this sappy shit that would never show such a vulnerable and gentle or playful side to him any other time just let it loose. Not really giving a fuck thanks to the golden liquor that had intoxicated him. “Don’t--- you fucking dare quote me on that.” Rico said with a gentle poke to her arm before he sat up some more to peel his wet clothing from his torso, leaving it bare and slightly damp. But the warmth of the liquor made it less bothersome than what it might have been if he were sober.

A snort, soft and short, left his lips as he glanced at her as he tossed his clothes aside. “If only I had a dollar for every time you’ve said that to me.” The Italian purred, rolling to his side to let his arm find its way around her comfortably, a small grin tugging at his lips. Jesus Christ was he going to regret this in the morning, for more than one reason but then again--- it was nice to be so lighthearted, after being so dark and weighted down. Another shift and slight struggle before his boots thudded to the floor and he moved to get next to Charlotte in a cuddling manner. “You may have to help me with--- my pants.” He commented, teeth holding back the chuckle that he wanted to let out but not doing much for the smile that spread his lips. 

Instead of making any movement to actually get his pants off Rico leaned in a bit and nuzzled against Charlotte’s neck lightly, breathing in her scent softly as his free hand, the one that was not supporting his head against the bed, traced little circles against her warm flesh. His lips found a spot on her neck and pressed there gently, tender and with care before he pressed another soft kiss to her jaw and then nudged her cheek with his nose some. 

[riicore-blog]

Facing The Demons | | Ricolette

[riicore-blog]

bringthecain: 

So, this was what it was like. This was what it was like to watch someone you love fall apart completely. Her arms felt numb as she held him that much closer. He was a changing tide, pulling her in violently towards the sea. He was Atlas, keeping the world on his shoulder and never allowed any other to bare it. It wasn’t out of diligence or kindness. It was guilt. He never believed he deserved to release any of the weight on anyone. His actions canceled out any sense of recovery. Charlotte almost let him. She almost walked away several times, declaring that the man before her was too rough. Too sealed together that even a shred of care from his lips meant more than any confession of love. Her arms wrapped around him, pulling him to shore with the best of her abilities. She was attempting to bare the weight to at least ease his pain a little.

He still saw them. Her fingertips ran over his cheek, watching as Rico fell into her so deeply. Her…lovely piece of sunlight was fading with each tug she gave of him. It was not once source, but everything. Her brows knitted, tears threatening to escape at the mere state of him. She couldn’t handle this. She couldn’t be Atlas, so she remained close by and tried to bear the weight. Her small hands combed through his hair and did everything in its power to soothe. A sob racked through his body. Her chest tightened at the sound, never once hearing the man before her cry. There was anger. There was adoration. But there was never…tears. 

“Shhh, love.” Her hands combed through his hair, burying her nose against his forehead. Her lips met the soft skin, gazing down at him with every sense of adoration she had for the man. She would be his strength even though she would never be able to bear the weight completely. Part of her was confused, wondering how he even say the dead beings. Was it mania? Ghosts? No, there wasn’t such a thing. Dreams turning into reality? What caused him to see the dead that were miles away?

                    “Just close your eyes, alright? I’m right here. I’m here.”

Yes, she was there, Charlotte was real-- those things, the people clawing their way towards him were not. This was all just a nightmare and Charlotte was the saving light at the end of the tunnel. God, hadn’t he destroyed enough? Wasn’t there enough destruction in this world without Rico rampaging around like a bull in a China shop destroying everything in his path when all he wanted was to sink into the things that comforted him. This world was doing something to him that Rico didn’t think possible, it was breaking him and here he was falling apart against Charlotte. The man let every ounce of him pour out, it was just--- it was just his time to grieve, something he had not done for his family. He hadn’t done it for anything or anyone, not his parents, siblings, wife, and children. Not even for himself, the part of him that died so long ago that he was desperately trying to fight against to keep from coming back. He needed to be cold and strong and unbreakable. This world would destroy everything he loved and then slowly tear him to pieces if he didn’t stand strong, if he didn’t prepare himself for the worst; if he wasn’t prepared for the worst in everything-- even in this.

His head was shaking, but then again so was the rest of his body, soft sobs causing the action before he finally turned his dark gaze up to look at Charlotte. Why was she still here? After everything he had done to her, after all the attempts he had made to push her away, to show her just how much of a monster he was. They still plagued him, his family, he was not sound of mind nor moral compass, why was she still there with him? Shushing him like a comforting lover--- but that’s what she was, his lover. She meant something to him and god damnit he had let her under his skin and Rico didn’t want her to leave ever-- this was dangerous, all of this was fucking dangerous. “You shouldn’t be-- Lottie, you really shouldn’t...” He was a danger, he didn’t trust himself, Rico was so sure that he would destroy Charlotte just as he had destroyed his family. But he shouldn’t care about her enough to even be able to do that, either way-- whether or not he cared for her, Rico shouldn’t have been able to even think of killing her if he had to. Such a situation was likely to occur but the man was not sure if he could do it at this time. Why hadn’t he felt that way the night he had killed his family? What made this different? What made Charlotte so different from Clarice? Oh, what a stupid question. 

So many things were different between the two women, but one thing was the same--- they both believed in Rico more than what was good for them, Clarice had always thought him capable of anything and although she hated how often he had to go out to see and for how long the woman supported him, even tried to get him to pursue the one thing that he could do and still be at home more than he was when he was out at sea. But he hadn’t wanted to do it, not because of a lack of interest or even wanting to better himself, but because it would put him out of the job and it would throw his family into poverty sooner than not. So he had put his own self development aside and did what he could for his family, being a good husband and father but of course he never thought he was good enough. Just like now, he wasn’t good enough for her love or care, hell, he wasn’t even good enough for Clarice but that hadn’t stopped him from loving her with every ounce of his very being. “Why, Lottie--- Why... Why do you stay? I am... horrible to you and...” No, he needed to stop speaking before he let himself break even more. 

With his tongue caught behind a clamped jaw Rico turned his head, pushing away a bit but not fully, still staying in the position he was in before he just sighed. Exhaling through his nose as he shook his head and cast his gaze to the bathroom where the demons stayed now, warded off by Charlotte most likely. Or his unfaithful tendencies. She thought he was somehow a good man, perhaps that was why she stayed, or perhaps what she said was true and Charlotte really fucking loved him. And if that was truly the case then Rico had fucked up because he cared for her too, something he never thought he could do for any other woman aside from Clarice. 

[glenpowelljr]

[bringthecain-blog]

hold your liquor ; ricolette

[riicore-blog]

bringthecain:

“Alright, I’ll take that excuse. Maybe next time I’ll get you to say it out loud.” The brunette patted the splayed sheets beside her with a satisfied grin. Surely the man had seen her under the influence, but this was the first time she ever saw the man actually drink. What rested in his body was probably something that Cole diluted in his veins for only a few hours. Strange as it was to make a comparison, she couldn’t help it. Rico was surely triggered by something, but what - she could only guess. Her lips parted, staring at him as he struggled to merely stand. 

A chuckle fell past her lips once more, though her gaze was growing tense. She couldn’t help herself. Drunken banter had always amused her. She was sure it would amuse anyone with how much of a difference Rico was sober. Same streak of sternness with a hint of bumbling idiot. A little pain killer. Now, that was something that she couldn’t deny. At least, not now. She arched a hand up, narrowing her gaze as she gestured him to come forward. A grin fell on her lips similar that of a Sphinx. The adoration in her voice merely leaked out without even attempting to do so. “Come share the love then, you drunk fuck.”

“Oh--- Fuck...” He was too drunk really to make any further protest, to fight her would take a lot of energy that Rico really didn’t want to give up at the moment. The man was exhausted and wanted to be loved, that’s what he was doing in her room soaking wet and drunk as fuck. Because he knew she would supply such an emotion and that was all he wanted. Really, even though he was such an asshole and pushed her away more times than not the man did care about the brunette. With a grumble the Italian shifted forward, lulling the hand that held the bottle of alcohol towards her before he sighed, brow creased before he finally reached her. Offering the bottle and only when it was taken did he plop down on the bed and the spot that was offered to him, careful not to bother her leg too much.

“Shit I’m--- gonna get your bed wet.” Rico mumbled, shifting to pull at his jacket before he snorted, a shit eating grin pulling at his lips in pure amusement before he laughed at his own joke, the one he hadn’t voiced just yet. “Wouldn’t... be the first time... heh heh heh.” The Italian said before he started laughing softly, arms falling over his head as he let his gaze find Charlotte’s again. His head was spinning and perhaps he was more himself when intoxicated. The one time that he had been such with Clarice had been during their honeymoon and she had called him goofy and cuddly. Which was exactly what he was while drunk, even now as he just laid there looking at Charlotte, not wanting to be an ass but also not wanting to give her the pleasure of seeing him so--- kind. “Sei così bella.” He hummed, letting one of his hands move up to brush against her arm lightly in an affectionate manner. 

[spxcecxse]

[riicore-blog]

shadow preachers // zella day

[riicore-blog]

thepiperhollis:

“Yeah, I know, and I’m scared of the humans too, I’m genuinely terrified that one of you is gonna slit my throat while I sleep, or use me as bait for them and have me die so you all make it because I’m the weakest link.” Piper’s words were harsh, and they were honest, which is what made them that much more telling, that and the way her voice trembled slightly, as if she was fighting back her emotions. She didn’t know how long she was going to make it out in the wild once more, after believing in the safety of Fall City’s walls.

Even though it was an unwise decision, Piper lowered her knife slightly, watching the man move away slightly, catching sight of the injuries marring his skin. Those injuries alone were proof that the man didn’t care for their situation, that he was willing to fight people to survive, something Piper herself was too afraid to do. “Maybe you don’t need any of us, but did you think that maybe we may need you?” She doesn’t add the part that’s on her mind, that she specifically needed his help, his protection. “Please? Everything out there is terrifying, please don’t make me scared of you too…” Her last sentence is spoken quietly, the mere action of saying it embarrassing her, showing such weakness to a stranger.

          Don’t make me scared of you too-- 

The words reminded Rico of his second oldest daughter, this is what would have happened to her, she would have become scared of the world-- scared of him and everything else that even made a move in the darkness. It confirmed that this world would have destroyed her and the other two, his wife as well, none of them would have made it and Rico could not have bared to see them torn from his hands by the monsters that lurked in this fucked up place. That was why he did it, because Rico knew that he couldn’t protect them all the time, something was bound to happen, that was what he learned from his father-- no one was safe and the death of his sister was enough evidence of that. It was better off in this place alone, they were better off six feet under the ground and he would never see them again because he was going to hell. He was a monster, damn right she should be scared of him, as should everyone else. 

          Rico would destroy them just as soon as the infected would. 

Taking a deep breath the Italian shifted, body language shifting to a more closed off-- less infuriated energy, but it was there, bubbling under the surface. The anger that would burn him from the inside out and soon would consume every-fucking-one. The man moved closer to the little blonde, dark gaze falling down on her before he nodded a few times. “You should be terrified, this place is fucked and so is every fucking person out here. But you don’t need me--- I’ll destroy you just as quickly as the infected would, I’m better off on my own, kid.” Although his words were dark, meaning to frighten her more, Rico couldn’t help but feel the father side of him rustle slightly under the rage, reminding him what it was like to comfort a small framed female. Let his arms lock around her and promise that everything was going to be alright. 

How many times had he done that for his daughters, his wife, himself? Comforted them after the runs he’d make to bring back more food-- the barriers he moved out to make in order to ward off the infected from their home. He had comforted them, promised that help was going to come, promised that everything was going to be alright and he wouldn’t let anything happen to them. Fuck. How could he promise them such a promise when he was the one who fucking broke that promise, destroyed it with a bullet to each of their heads. Rico hadn’t protected them, the only person he could fucking take care of was himself and that was how it had to stay--- the man couldn’t get close to anyone else, doing so with Charlotte was a mistake because now she was gone and the doubt that she was still alive grew by the second. The Italian couldn’t afford to get attached to any of these people, he didn’t want to because he wasn’t strong enough-- no, he couldn’t lose anyone, that was why he killed his family. Because he would rather have been the cause of losing them than to see their fragile bodies torn to pieces by some monster, or worse, to see their innocence and humanity crushed by this fucking place. They were flowers and he was the darkness that had suffocated them. “Don’t fool yourself, agnellino, I’m a monster too.”

[alexandraliddell]

Hope for the Hopeless || Alex and Open

[riicore-blog]

alexandraliddell:

She had seen the bombs.  Alex had been miles away, still – over a week out (or so was her best estimate, considering navigational skills could only get you so far when you’d never been where you were before.  Still, she had known the general direction of Fall City, and as she had gotten closer and closer, it had become … she missed people.  The feeling was uncomfortable to say the least.  Alex had never missed people before.  She hated people, usually, but she hadn’t seen any for weeks.  Months?  She hadn’t even seen a goddamn zombie for a few days now, as if even the undead knew to stay away from her.  She had finally been certain – after what felt like decades of walking – that she was headed in the right direction, and that Fall City was near.  And that was when her world had been shaken by loud explosions, followed by huge blasts of fire and billows of smoke.  Right where she knew Fall City to be.

The sight had taken her to her knees and she had pressed her head into the ground as her body shook with sobs.  Because of course.  Of course after so long, after she had finally almost made it back … surely no one could have survived those blasts.  Her sobs had turned to hyperventilating panic of a kind that no one alive had ever had the privilege to see in her.  At least, not anyone since Yalta.  But after being on her own for so long; to have the hope of seeing people she knew again, any of them even, let alone … No.  

Alexandra had decided then and there that it couldn’t be true.  Couldn’t be real.  Perhaps they had already evacuated city.  Perhaps they had all sent the bombs themselves, to clear out the horde.  With how long it had been, lots could have happened.  And Alex was nothing if not reckless and constantly desperate for something to do.  For so long now, it had been survival.  Find food.  Find water.  Make shelter.  Stab a zombie (her Glock had run out of ammo long ago, though she’d hung onto the thing anyways).  Rinse and repeat.  So she had continued on, like she hadn’t seen the explosions at all.  Because what else was there to do?  Nothing.  Nothing to do but survive and keep moving; keep going, no matter how tired, how thirsty or hungry she was.  And she was, to be sure.  Food had been scarce even when she’d found places to scavenge in, and when there was no one to keep watch but herself, well … whenever her body had wanted to give in to deep sleep, her training had kicked in, forcing her to keep alert and on guard.  

Frankly, that had probably saved her life many times now.  Her body was constantly sore from it all – her right arm hadn’t yet healed all the way, though she’d finally been able to remove the makeshift sling for good and partially regain her range of motion.  Of course, encounters with the undead over the last few weeks had resulted in scratches and bruises and a sprained ankle that still twinged with every step.  The pain, at least, was easy to ignore.  Pain she could deal with.  It was easier than a lot of other things, and when she focused on the movement, on the need to keep moving and keep surviving, she could hardly feel any of it.  Alex wasn’t sure how much time had passed since she’d seen the explosions, but it had been more than a few days, at least, and she knew now she was getting close.  If she could just reach the city, then at least she could see.  At least she could know.  

As it turned out, though, even the best CIA training couldn’t keep the body up and moving after days without sleep, and it was as she came upon a secure looking farmhouse that she knew she needed to stop.  To sleep.  Naturally, there were a few undead lurking by a clump of trees near the place, and as exhausted as she was, Alex knew it would be entirely idiotic to not to take care of them.  So she drew a knife and made her way there.  Except apparently, three days with no sleep really was a poor choice.  Because even as she was stabbing one through the head, two others approached, and she was so out of it that when she backed out of her range, the zombie she had stabbed fell, taking her knife with it, and even as she was reaching into her holster for another, she fell, tripping over a root or something and “fuck!” she swore loudly, because after all of this she was gonna get taken out by a goddamn zombie.  

                         Outcast--

That’s what he was and damnit he had earned the title too, causing nothing but trouble with the people in that pathetic group he had been in. At least he’d gotten his taste of blood before he was banished from the ranks of the weaker people, he didn’t even want to stay with them in the first place. Why else would he risk everything and attack two of them before he was cast from their presence. So of course he laughed, was even doing so as he traveled away from the place he’d been with curses on his breath. Where was he to go now? It was as if he were starting all over again, expect this time he didn’t wander aimlessly like an absent minded-- like one of the undead. His brother was out there, Charlotte was out there, and that little blonde who had become somewhat of a friend to Rico was out there-- The Italian knew that much, but he was on the fence of whether or not he wanted to care, or wanted to go look for them. Giano could handle himself, it was in the Palcore blood to survive against all odds, most of all the bad ones. That was why he had survived for so long, it was against his blood to die, even though he wanted nothing more. To end the torment of the demons, the ghosts of his family from haunting him. 

Tracking through the woods, slow at first and with a slightly amused disposition before he heard the curse that graced his lips so frequently. Great. Someone was in trouble, either that or he had started cursing more often than he had realized. With cautious brown eyes the man moved forward, knife gripped tightly in his hands before he found the problem, of course it would have been a woman. Anyone else he wouldn’t have cared about, but his mother did not raise a son that would abandon a damsel in distress, even though he moved forward with a cold touch to his heart and drove his knife into the skull of the undead, a noise of aggression leaving his lips. Planting his foot on the next infected Rico kicked at it, making the thing fall and slam its head into the nearest tree, another kick exploded the mush that was the clicker’s head. In another movement his gun was pulled and aimed, just because he saved this womans life didn’t mean she was to be trusted. “Did they fucking bite you?”

[hotmengifs-deactivated20171024]

[clutchforbalancearchive-blog]

        I’m the worst kind of monster:

    The kind that comes with a pretty face

                A cold heart

         And a reason to be that way.

[riicore-blog]

Snarl of the Wolf | | Self Para

Stability in a world like this was just a pipe dream, just as it was on the sea, that was-perhaps- how Rico was even able to function the little bit he was in this desolate piece of shit they called a city. He didn’t have a place in with these people, the only place he’d found was between the sheets or legs of one of the scientists here. It had happened fast but he was more than welcome to the distraction, almost too welcoming as he found himself developing some sort of attachment to the brunette. She brought the small amount of happiness that the Italian would even allow himself. But that night as she left his room, his arms and bed, to go to her precious lab Rico later regretted not being his annoying self and going with her. It was a fleeting moment as hell rained down of the fucking place. 

He should have been asleep, but such a feat was not as easily made without Lottie there by his side. The weight and warmth of her body next to his was what eventually lulled Rico to sleep after he had fought off the demons of his family But tonight was different, Lottie wasn’t there to warm his soul, the bed was empty without her, just like his soul. It was something Rico had come to accept with the last few events that had happened, the night of drunken conquests and the one that he had spilled his soul, it was all too much and he shouldn’t have let either of them happen. She’d get taken away from him, or he would push her away, just as he had his family. It was better to push someone away than to loose them.

The whistle of what was in the air was foreign at first, strange and it caused his dark brow to wrinkle in confusion before the explosion off in the distance shook the entirety of the house he was in. A blast took out the windows of the room and glass shattered everywhere in the room, flecking his naked torso with blood and small cuts. But that didn’t faze Rico, not as he rolled to his feet shell shocked for half a second. Action, he had to jump into action. Sliding away from the bed the Italian tore on his clothes and shoes before scooping up what little possessions he own, slinging the pack across his back and securing it there. He knew this place was too good to be true, he had gotten too comfortable and now the small shitty city was being brought to the ground. His feet carried him, darkness settling into his heart as rage filled every inch of his person. By the time he reached his doorstep, all thoughts of protection or finding anyone else was thrown from his mind, the flames licked the darkened sky and people had just started to trickle out from their homes but Rico was one step ahead of them, by the time the second bomb dropped he was halfway towards the end of his street; the blast making him stumble and pull up, almost falling over himself as he watched the closest tower to him teeter and then fall. 

Then the damned started to fall past the crumbled defenses and Rico’s plot of escaping out the front gate was thwarted, now he back pedaled away from the infected that were lurching forward past the fallen gates. His feet picked up and brought him to the middle of the people that had gathered out of their homes all blurry eyed and disoriented all unaware of the dangers and exactly what to do. All Rico knew was that he had to get the fuck out of there. With a curse on his breath the Italian absently searched for that flicker of metal and the familiar click of a gun, he didn’t know where the fuck they had taken his weapons but there never was a problem with that in a world without a weapon, he was the fucking weapon. So the second he caught glimpse of that metal he lunged for it. A knife in the hands of a smaller male, one that was disoriented but brandishing the weapon with caution. Rico attacked without warning. Easily tearing the knife from the other man and plunging it into the jugular of the opposing male, wide eyes met his darkened gaze before the Italian shoved the dying man into the arms of an on coming infected. It gaze Rico time to get out.

Running worked his muscles, damn had he gotten too comfortable in this place. He could hear his father now scolding him for not being more detached and calculating with his choices, the Italian accept dripping on the end of each word. The Italian was away from the gates where it seemed most people were going. There it was, the familiar click of an automatic, dark eyes found the other man that helped Charlotte on her crazy outings for test subjects, the Marine, he was as determined as Rico was but this one Rico would not mess with. The other man had a good few inches on him and was more than just trained to kill a man. No, the next person who came clamoring out of the small shed was who Rico attacked. 

Knife slicing at the delicate flesh of the throat but only leaving a small mark as the person moved away at the last minute. Another wide eyed horror struck gaze as the cocked the gun ready to end Rico’s life, he should have let them, but his mind was too far gone into survival mode to be kicked down by his desire to die. So he knocked their gun aside, the blast echoing into the air and the bullet finding its home in the dirt as Rico’s fist landed against the nose of the opposing person. A screech of pain was what drew the infected closer and Rico had to act fast, but this person was not ready to die just yet. They returned the counter as he went for another stabbing blow to their throat, a block sent his knife knocked from his hands. Now his fists clenched and threw a blow to the persons gut before another one knocked them back against a wall. 

Another blow and then another, and another, and another, and another.Hard and aggressive were his blows, cutting the air from the lungs of this person before the blows started landing on their face. Soon his knuckles were bloodied with the crimson liquid that spurted forth from the wounds on the person’s face. It was only a matter of minutes before their body went limp either from unconsciousness or death Rico truly didn’t care. He swiped for their waistband and took the extra clip hidden there, the larger knife and then with a grunt he let their body hit the concrete, an infected grunting as it meandered closer. With a swift motion Rico plunged the knife into the throat of what once was a person, dark black substance spilled forth and covered the knife before he shoved the thing away and swooped to pick up the handgun. 

Now he was on his way, knife brandished as his primary weapon and the other one tucked away for safety or necessary usage for later. It seemed like hours that he was running, abandoning everything that he had become familiar with. Lottie, Aiden, and Giano were all left back there to fend for themselves. Rico didn’t care, he didn’t have time to care, nor the ability to do so. Giano, his brother was more than likely well, there was no doubt in that. They were two of a kind, the Palcore brothers, cut from the same cloth and bred to be snarling bastards like wolves. The older Palcore would make it, Rico didn’t even think that he wouldn’t for a moment. Lottie and Aiden however, unless they found a creature more vicious than they, the chances of survival were slim to none for them. They were weak in their own way, Charlotte more than Aiden with her bum leg. Well, all good things died in this world, but Rico wouldn’t--- because he wasn’t anything good at all.

Moments passed before the Italian came to a building, it seemed quiet enough and his dark eyes quickly found movement of another survivor, a tall man whom nodded towards the warehouse and asked for the Italians opinion on whether it was clear or not. A snarl like expression pulled back Rico’s lips before he even answered. “The fuck if I know, only one way to find out.”