* HURRICANE / EYES !

sifar : contains nothing, nothingness. leelavati al-jamil ferring. forty years old. leader of the rodeway inn west dodge. colonel and fighter pilot of the u.s. marine corps. former wife and mother.

[sifahr-blog]

IDENTIFIED : ruiz, diana.

diana didn’t like asking permission for anything; especially not in a world as lawless as this one. but she understood, this was a democracy. and that meant if you looked hard enough, you would find a leader. besides, diana respected leela. she was holding this place together, after all. and lord knows that was a near impossible task. so, she would ask. reluctantly.

slipping inside the lobby, diana tried her best not to chase the joint as she walked in – a habit she had developed over the years that made her look awfully suspicious. she just liked to know what she was walking into. all that paranoia she had built up before the end of the world, had come in surprisingly useful after it. dark brown gaze fell to the magazine in the woman’s hands; diana arched a mildly curious brow. she didn’t answer the woman’s first question, but took affection to the one about bourbon. “yeah, you and i both.” she mused, debating taking a seat for a moment (her aching body needed rest, after all) but deciding against it. diana felt better about everything when she was standing on her own two feet — more prepared. prepared for what? who the hell knows. 

“i ah, needed to talk to you about somethin’. those rooms, in the east wing? i wanted to clear some of the biters out of ‘em. and i know! i know it’s a two person job, but… look. i’ve told you before. i can do it myself. i’m better on my own, anyway. just let me try, yeah?” in retrospect? probably not the best idea. but diana was confident in herself ——– perhaps too much so. as per usual.

the girl’s request was met with a damn near blank expression. aside from a mildly arched eyebrow, and the corners of her lips tightening into a frown. leela liked diana. not just because they were confined to a limited space together, and liking each other was key to not snapping. in a lot of ways, diana reminded leela of her younger self. when she’d been a decade or so younger, she might’ve suggested clearing out the east wing by herself, too. and she probably would’ve died doing it. ( if she were being honest, leela had never really outgrown being rebellious and restless. she'd just learned to reserve that behavior for a more appropriate time. )

leela put the magazine aside in favor of picking up her cup. she sipped from it briefly, tasting stale coffee and cheap whiskey and letting both warm her chest. she felt a sigh building just behind her breastbone as she leaned forward, resting her elbows on the countertop, hands cupped around her mug. but she didn’t let the breath escape. instead, she shook her head. “ you and i both know that i’m going to say no. ”

before diana had a chance to protest, leela drummed her blunt fingernails against the thick ceramic of her cup. “ NOT because i don’t think that you can. you’re one of the best at taking out the damn things. but is is a two person job, and we can’t afford to take risks like that. our fence is shit, and it's only a matter of time before we're gonna need everyone who's able to defend the place. sure, you'd probably make it... but i don't fuckin' gamble. ”

[sifahr-blog]

IDENTIFIED : andenet, siwazuri.

Siwazuri chuckled slightly at her response. He had always viewed the words of Shakespeare as still being somewhat alive despite the hundreds of years separating their time periods. But even more than that, there was a part of him that viewed William Shakespeare as a friend rather than an author or playwright. He felt like there was a connection with him, something that made him understand what the words meant more than he could with other writers.

“Well, I’m always glad to have people hear my performances. I have to put those years of training at RADA to good use somehow.” He responded with a chuckle as he stepped towards the woman. After a moment he opened his arms and looked around the costco. “Well then you came to the right place! We’ve got a little bit of everything and a lot of other things. Thank you bulk shopping. But anyways, I’m Siwazuri, but you can call me Siwa. I help run this little… home of ours.”

she felt her lips easing into a smile, even as she fought the urge to raise a brow. she hadn't thought to bump into a man of the theatre kicking around a midwestern costco after the world had gone to shit. but, stranger things had happened.

" pleasure to meet you, siwa. leelavati, but you can call me leela. i'm from the rodeway inn. former little three star hotel, not far from here. " she kept her weight on her uninjured leg as she glanced around, taking in the hauntingly familiar sight of a bulk shopping center a month after the housewives that once crowded its aisles had all turned to a strictly human-based diet. no ridiculously large bottles of ketchep necessary. " never was much of a costco gal, but i guess beggars can't be choosers. "

[halfsad-deactivated20180421]

Her (2013) dir. Spike Jonze

[zendayes]

[sifahr-blog]

joxpacker.

Jo listened and accepted her reasoning with a nod knowing that ultimately, they had no choice but to kill. It was engrained in his very being that if someone said Jump! he would say How high? And so though fear threatened to hold him back, the rest of him demanded he move forward. After all, the woman before him was a leader, and Joseph had no intention of going against she who could have him on the other side of the fence in a heartbeat. “Then I’ll be there to help in whatever way I can.” 

she gave a small nod, and just like that drew her hand away from his shoulder. " good. we're going to need all the help that we can get. " leela began moving back toward the hotel with a measured stride, still being careful not too put too much strain on her healing knee. her limp was becoming more and more subtle all the time. " i have a feeling that it's going to get worse before it gets better. i know that nobody wants to hear that, but... better to be honest and prepared than lying and dead. "

[sifahr-blog]

johnrhees.

He tried not to let himself get too absorbed in the entirety of the inn, but it was a bit ofa struggle. It was just so…muchwhen compared to his now everyday norm. In fact, he was certain he’d stayed inthis very inn during some choice in-between days of his youth on his way out ofdodge. Small world…

Hands clasped at the small of his back he leaves his postureopen, keeps body language in mind as the odd survivor passes him by. He canalmost feel the hole their gazes burn in his back—but he smiles. Feeling like apolitician fresh of the campaign trail. Never counted himself to possess the devil’s luck but it seemed rumor oftheir fellow man eking out a living in this forsake city were not entirelyunfounded. Word of mouth was all they had these days until someone picked up on the other end of his radio.

So, he put in the leg work (exactly like that politician he snarkedabout prior, he realized with a frown) and made himself and his people known. No small task, without publictransport and both the main roads and winding side streets choked with wreckageand the diseased it was…hard.

But, he was here.

Though he hadn’t been told much, he’d been given directionand left to his own devices which was nice.They didn’t strip him of his rights to a weapon, didn’t pat him down like asecurity threat at the airport. They left him as human as human can be andthough the place had scored a consistent three-star review on Yelp before theinternet went down, it felt like he was standing in the lobby of the Ritzitself. And with that note he looksup when addressed, offering forth a crooked grin by way of reply “Not much o’ awine guy myself I’m afraid…is that a…good result?” he asks crossing the spaceto motion at the vacant seat next to her.

He hides a grimace, as if it were so obvious “Well, no. Notexactly—name’s John, I’m from the Washington Library camp—ran across some ofyour folks in my end of town and they were mighty kind enough to bring me back ‘ereand point me towards you. Do you mind…if I sit?”

“ no clue, ” leela shot back. she’d never had much of a taste for wine — she’d tried it before, if only because she would drink or smoke just about anything, at least once. ( not a healthy way to live your life, but it was a hell of a lot of fun. ) left to her own devices, she always opted for a bottle of crown. a little red wine would do in a pinch, though. she glanced back down at the page, brows arching as she read. “ it means i’m... bold and unique. i don’t dwell too much on what people think of me, and i make daring decisions. according to the wise women at cosmo. ” her drawling tone practically dripped sarcasm, giving away just how seriously she took the whole thing.

she tossed the magazine aside, letting it thump with a quiet rustle of paper against the countertop not far from her half-finished cup of coffee. when he gestured toward the empty chair, she gave a short nod as permission for him to sit down. “ the library ? i don’t think we’ve had anyone from that camp here, in ours. ”

there was a battered box of marlboro reds in the front pocket of the old flannel shirt shrugged over her shoulders. she pulled one free for herself, and then tipped the box toward him, wordlessly offering a smoke. “ pleasure to meet you, john. leela. you come here to stake the place out, looking for trade ? or did you just drop by to say howdy ? ”

[babil6]

[sifahr-blog]

she remembers taking quizzes in magazines like this, when she was a teenager. a series of questions, multiple answers, each answer having a corresponding number. at the end of the questionnaire, you added up those numbers to get your result. far more math than the trendy buzzfeed personality quizzes that the world had been obsessed with, before the outbreak had toppled both the internet and society itself. but leela enjoyed the math. she found it calming... it settled the mind. and it was certainly more entertaining than staring at the walls.

the magazine had been sitting, unread, in the rodeway inn lobby for a long time. long enough that the pictures had begun to fade a bit, the white of the pages turning a faint yellow. leela had kept a running tally of the digits correlating her answers in the margins, using an old ballpoint pen. all the while she nibbled on the crust of a piece of plain buttered toast. the mug of coffee at her elbow was more whiskey than it was coffee, were she being honest. but liquor helped to mask the fact that the coffee was stale and burned.

she heard the bell above the lobby door jingling as it opened, and a burst of cold air washed over her face. " have you ever taken one of these ? " she asked, without looking up. she was still doing a bit of mental math. " i'm... cabernet sauvignon. " she flipped the page around for the survivor to see. WHAT WINE ARE YOU ? was scrawled across the top in big, bold letters. " i'm definitely more of a bourbon girl, but still. good to know. and probably not what you came in here to talk to me about. "

[annajoganiyan]

[sifahr-blog]

joxpacker.

Jo couldn’t help but stare at the woman in awe. He wished he could speak with just as much conviction. The manner in which she carried herself alone was enough for Jo to want to follow her orders. He knew he had proven himself capable of helping with the undead the first night at Rodeway Inn, but that had been the only time in which he had come face to face with those creatures. The thought of having to do it again sent a shiver up his spine. “What if we just leave them in there and don’t open the doors?”

          she paused, looking over at jo, her frown softening in the light of his discomfort. ❝ and wait for them to start breaking the doors down ? ❞ leela shook her head. she wasn't enthused with the idea of coming face-to-face with any more of the infected than was absolutely necessary. but they had no other choice. she reached over to rest a hand on his shoulder, squeezing gently. ❝ they're not roaches, jo. we can't just live with them right there, on the other side of a thin wall. sooner or later, they have to be killed. ❞

[sifahr-blog]

siwazurisurvives.

Walking through the aisles of the Costco Wholesale, Siwazuri found himself becoming somewhat bored. It was a surprising feeling, as there was always something to do to try and help lead the small ragtag group of diverse survivors, but he knew he needed to stay as sharp as he possibly could. Crossing his arms, he closed his eyes and let himself pull back to try and find the words he knew better than any in the world. 

“Set you down this; and say besides, that in Aleppo once, where a malignant and turban’d Turk…” As the words escaped his mouth, he heard the footsteps behind him. Turning around without breaking his line of dialogue, he raised a finger momentarily to silently ask for the second to finish the line before he was to respond. “Beat a Venetian and traduced the state, I took by the throat the circumcised dog, and smote him, thus!” At the final words of the monologue, Siwa brought his hand up and slid it across his own throat before lolling his head to the side and sticking his tongue out momentarily. “Forgive me please, I felt as though my good friend Bill should keep me company. But now I am all yours. How can I help you?”

          in grade school, leela had never given much thought to her studies. romeo and juliet and macbeth sat unread somewhere in the mess of her locker, the essays on their contents forever unwritten. years later, in college, she'd set her sights on more scientific pursuits. a bit of shakespeare had worked its way into her curriculum, but not enough so that she could walk about quoting it from memory. the basic principles of aerodynamics ? she could recite them in her sleep. othello ? she only vaguely recalled.

          ❝ no need to apologize. time spent listening to literature is never wasted. ❞ she hadn't interrupted him, instead propping the single crutch she'd been using against the shelf nearest her. more than a month after the plane crash that had sent her plummeting into the suburbs of omaha, leela didn't require crutches to get around for the most part. given the distance between rodeway inn and costco, though, she'd figured it was a good idea not to test her limits. her mouth had bowed into a faint smile, head tilting. ❝ i came to talk supplies, but i didn't know i'd be treated to a performance. ❞

[sifahr-blog]

joxpacker.

     Stray gusts of wind whooshed by through the eerie streets of Omaha, causing a car’s open door to calmly swing back and forth. Jo let out a quiet sigh of relief after he shut the door and the creaking finally stopped. He was far too out in the open for his own comfort but the fence had to be dealt with eventually. And sooner certainly seemed better than later. He crossed his arms as he stared down the lineup of cars that touched bumper to bumper in an attempt to block the undead from entering the hotel. “If one semi-large wave of maneaters navigates our way, this fence is done for.” 

            ❝ which is why we're going to hope the surrounding buildings keep a large herd at bay. or at least create a bottle neck. ❞ wind kicked through the dark waves of her hair, sending it to sporadically dancing around her face. her arms were crossed in a near mirror of his, weight resting on her uninjured leg, combat boots firmly planted on fading asphalt. she knew the camp's weaknesses all to well. but in front of him, leela was all confidence. ever the commanding officer. her eyes scanned the surrounding structures, lips plucked into a frown. and then, with a small jerk of her head, she started back toward the cover of the pale yellow hotel. still limping, but only subtly now, and with the help of a knee brace her mobility was getting better by the day. ❝ we'll build a proper fence, when we can. right now i'm just as concerned with the maneaters already in the hotel. ❞

[sifahr-blog]

col. leela al-jamil ferring aesthetic.

❝ i can fly anything. ❞