#crpgopen

[effie-ioannidis-blog]

“Shit - fuck, sorry I did not mean to do that, oh my god - still working on the whole braking part of the runner thing... my bad.”

[orenmacnamus-blog]

He should be used to the voices by now, but sometimes there was that rare one that caught him by surprise. He turned so sharply he felt a sharp sting in the back of his neck, but again he saw nothing but the rain pelting against the small puddles at his feet.

“Will ya’ all just shut th’ hell up for once?”

[ipainteddanteoneverywall-blog]

(lakeside stories)

Early morning, a bit after seven. The silence was unnerving for some but pure pleasure for him. There he was, tall and dressed in nothing but swimming shorts, on the shore of a perfectly calm Lake Carnegie, just across the stadiums, standing in the cold wind for a second. His jumper and trousers were folded and put on his bag, around meter away from water line. Finally he was not trembling from cold anymore. Brought up in Great Britain he was used to windy weather, wind seemed to be almost everywhere – on the street, seaside and in bedrooms. Everyone talked about the rain but people seemed to forget that the wind was the worst thing – so many scarfs and hats and hopes were lost because of it.

He would give a world to be able to walk London streets again. Safe, not afraid from the virus and its children. Walk across the millennium bridge, look at Tate, and eat at that brunch place ten meters away from Tate Modern. He always had cancelled his meal there. That was not his side of the city. Well, now it was too late, he will never know whether the breakfast food tasted as good as it looked.

He started to walk slowly into the water, till the moment he could jump. Coldness buried him, but with first moment he felt his body burning. He did not feel pain anymore, only the burn in his veins. Swimming helped him to relax, as almost no one liked playing tennis and the courts were badly damaged, as it really was not the top priority in this village. After all, even restaurant worked only once a week. So he was swimming, three times a week, hour or two, depending how many thoughts he wanted to wash away. This was his alone time, one against one, human versus nature, every time playing around the idea – what would happen if his body would refuse to obey? Drowning is not a peaceful death, but then again – it was not his intention. Death. If it ever would come to this he would prefer for it to be peaceful. Like, when he is old. To be honest, his dream death would be simple – around age of 70 between a girl’s (who is one third his age) legs. Leave this world with pleasure and leave a girl trauma for life. Perfect.

He was swimming for around half an hour – till his mind was clear from any disruptive thoughts. Now he was slowly walking out from the water, to pick up his towel, get dressed and back to regular life. Moment of peace was slowly leaving him.

[destructivemeadow-blog]

“Hunting? It’s... you know, mainly filled with waiting. It’s pretty boring for most of the time. Why?”

[destructivemeadow-blog]

      Ashlee had had enough of all these goddamn fucking nightmares. Every time she closed her eyes, her mind conjured up more and more horrific images she couldn’t seem to shake off. Alex, bloody and bruised on the concrete floor. Alex, walking among the undead. Alex, cursing Ash for leaving her behind like some sort of coward. Her mind hurt like hell, though her body was positively pumping to get going. It was one of her problems; the disconnection of the mind and the body, causing a bizarre, crippling numbing effect.

      Sleeping wasn’t restful. The pathetic small talk she engaged in daily wasn’t restful. Killing animals and working with a team of annoying, two-dimensional men wasn’t restful. Nothing was restful, anymore. The only option was to keep moving, and suffer through it. Those things starred in her daily thoughts - Keep moving. Suffer through it. Here, she had no roots or meaningful connections, for that she was grateful. She was number 49; just another walking resource for the Governor to exploit and keep in love. She hated them all, of course. Every single person she’d met here had been fake, disingenuous or just plain stupid.

                        (At least, that’s what she S A I D  to herself to keep things nice and simple;)

      So, this was life now. She slept on a hard mattress, with hard pillows and a hard duvet, to dream hard things and would awake to a hard life. She felt particularly groggy this morning, as she lazed around for a moment in her small apartment - she’d taken anything that wasn’t communal, no matter the location or the size. Being forced to live with someone, to sleep and eat and speak and be with someone else for the majority of the time was nauseating. Better this way. Nothing left. She tugged on her well-worn boots finally, opting to try and find something more substantial for breakfast than water.  She wouldn’t have bothered with it otherwise, but she wasn’t stupid - Ash saw what the Governor was doing. If she fell or became too much of a nuisance, she’d be swiftly and duly punished. 

     She wiped sleep out of her eyes as she finally got out to Palmer’s Square - the sun was glaring down on it, though it was still a cold winter’s morning. When she exhaled it looked almost like she was smoking a cigarette. Impossible, of course - Ash had never been a smoker nor had she the luxury of even possessing such a thing. Alcohol, drugs, sex... none of it appealed to her like it seemed to other people. She just wanted to live, and feel as if she was alive. She had... say, thirty minutes before she started her shift? 

[orenmacnamus-blog]

He didn’t make tea simply because he wanted it. There were benefits to them, whether someone wanted to calm their nerves or even ease the ache of stomach pains. While it wasn’t exactly a medicinal science, it was still, in some cases, an efficient home remedy. Oren had decided long ago that it would be wise to learn more about natural fixes, and even now, he sat and quietly flipped through the pages of an old book one might have previously found in organic health stores.

Distracted from his reading at the sound of feet on the floor, he glanced up just once, long enough to catch who it was.

“You can have some tea if ya’d like,” he offered politely, and gestured to the counter with a nudge of his head. “It’ll help with the stress. Sugar is next to it.”

[odeliahayes]

Dark brown eyes stared sullen to the tattoo on her wrist. Her grandmother had a similar tattoo, and so did her great grandfather. She wondered Israel was in shambles like the states were, but she knew that there was no use in hoping. Her father and brother were out there, maybe they were dead. She wouldn’t focus on that.

{Go, keep g o i n g, 

                                   do not stand still.}

She snapped her head up, eyes peering unflinching at the trainee before her. She pulled the glove down to cover her tattoo, jaw clenched and chin held high. “You’re training with me today. Keep up. Do not slow down because the Venatores won’t. And if you crack a sexist comment, you will regret it.” Even if her accent was still thick, she still didn’t fail to sound intimidating. 

[lestanjager-blog]

Dress Me Up and Watch Me Die

He scratched at the numbers etched into his skin. The connotations were well, less than pleasant for him. His father’s grandparents and peers had similar numbers if they didn’t meet the ovens when they first got to the camps. He hated that in order to live, he had to be branded like cattle. His only hope now is that humanity would survive this and so would he, and that his children and grandchildren could trace those numbers as he rocked them to sleep in his arms.

He knew he had to get up but his bones were even rejecting the idea, but his mind, oh his cursed mind wouldn’t here of it.

      -up   ---------- GET UP ------- TIME wasting --------- WASTING                                                GO!

Sighing, he swung his legs over the side of the bed and he got up to get ready for the day. There wasn’t much to do really, but it was enough. He had long accepted that this was an existence now, not a life.

When he was done, he went outside, squinting in the sunlight. He wanted to find something to eat before he went out to hunt. He couldn’t be passing out out in that wilderness. Just one more day in this endless cycle.