#lb.closed

[evan-sterling-blog]

(FLASHBACK) JUST KEEP WALKING // EVAN & ALEX — @alexxwalsh

                              Evan’s faintly aware of a pressure against her back, not like that of a steady hand urging her forward — urging her to take one step. Then another. And another. The pain in her side has subsided to a dull ache ever since she’d wrapped it (poorly), but she can feel a light wetness soaking into her shirt. A mess of ripped flannel and fabric stained with blood is the only proof that she’s actual injured. Or had been injured. The patch up is haphazard and messy at best but she’ll live. And the ache is a distant reminder of why she’s so tired and growing more exhausted by the minute. Just a graze, her mind repeats. It’s just a graze. Still. That fact doesn’t make it hurt any less. Or extinguish how she’d sustained the injury. It’s a miracle she’s even made it to the city but, then again, she’s been moving on autopilot for the past few weeks (can’t stop moving, need to get away, stop and you die).

                              An above ground root catches the toe of her shoe and Evan stumbles forward, off balance. For a moment she’s sure she’ll pitch to the ground but she’s saved by the wall of a building, her shoulder thudding into the brick with enough force to turn her vision a sharp, sharp, white. She can suddenly feel everything. The ache in her joints, the fire spreading from her side, the crust of blood against her palm — she can feel it all and with a groan she nearly slumps to the ground. But her resolve (stubbornness?) stays strong and with a grunt the young woman straightens with gritted teeth, eyes hard and determined. Evan puts one foot in front of the other and continues forward down the street.

[miserorums]

( @liamhart . )

     Spinning on his heel, Adam’s eyes remained vigilant. His gaze moved around, one place to another, searching desperately for the source of the noise. It could have been his companion, but in the time he’d come to know the young man, Adam had learned that Liam was smarter than that. He might be labeled as a Heathen, but there’s more to him than meets the eye, and that’s why Adam chose to trust him enough to walk ahead, to be alone with him and not have his gun pointed. Fear is not an emotion he associates with Liam, and it never has been. Besides, the noise sounded like footsteps—erratic, spurious, and not the sounds of a living being. 

     I don’t think we’re alone. Every inch of his being wanted to speak, but Adam had learned early on that speaking wasn’t always the best choice—no, especially not when there were things out there with echolocation. So, he remained frozen in place, confident that Liam would catch on without him having to say anything. Slowly but surely, the familiar clicking noises become apparent, an unsettling feeling took hold of him. Gaze settled on Liam, and his brows raised as if to question what they should do. They could run, of course, but clickers were fast. Their best bets? Take the situation head-on or hide until it went away. 

[miserorums]

( @larachvn. )

     Regret—as soon as tired eyes catch sight of the familiar face, the emotion washes over him like a tidal wave, and as much as he hates to admit it, he had been praying that he would never see her face again. Somewhere in there, he feels the guilt slowly forming a bump in his throat, making it damn near impossible to even breathe. But somewhere within the chaos of his own mind, he mustered up the courage to push his lungs to make it happen—in and out, in and out, until finally, he found a rhythm he could keep up with. “Lara,” He said simply, a faux-nonchalance coating his words. Nevertheless, his shocked facial expression and tensed shoulders betray him, as always. “I see you’re still kicking.” Humor—was that the correct way to respond to seeing the ghost of a friend?