Jan 18, 2024
screaming, crying, throwing up
in the words of someone you may know, i always come back ;')
seen from Namibia
seen from United Kingdom
seen from Algeria
seen from United States
seen from Switzerland
seen from Türkiye
seen from Germany
seen from Brazil
seen from Germany
seen from China
seen from India
seen from Namibia
seen from Brazil
seen from Philippines
seen from Jamaica
seen from Algeria
seen from Ghana
seen from Thailand
seen from Algeria
seen from United Kingdom
screaming, crying, throwing up
in the words of someone you may know, i always come back ;')
--- " thanks for doing this, man, " lewis smiles politely at his companion, neatly arranging his notebook and pens ( lined up perfectly straight, evenly spaced, just as they ought to be! ) before reaching into his bag and producing a beat up tape recorder. tools of the trade. " you don't mind me using this, do you? i know it's old, but it's, uh - it's easier. " how is he to explain the recent mass exodus of his digital recordings, all tainted with the unholy whispers of the wraith? he doesn't. instead, lewis has brought the man - mike, his name is mike! - to what is in essence a broom closet on campus. no mirrors, and the only reflective surface ( a window! ) covered conspicuously with lewis's sweat-dampened jacket. " anyway, i just had a couple questions about freddy's. i'm looking to give some flavour to the ambiance of the piece, y'know? let's start there. " [ @nighthire ]
— starter for mike ( @nighthire ) !
daryl scribbles a small note in the book he's holding. a soft noise rumbles in his chest as he considers the information. these newcomers to alexandria, a man and a young child, must answer the same questions as everyone else before they're allowed to enter the community. that's daryl's job— to make sure that the mouths they're committing to feeding deserve to be fed.
he's asked these questions what feels like hundreds of times by now. ( how many walkers have you killed? ) he's heard all kinds of answers. all kinds of stories. ( how many people have you killed? ) by far, the final question is always the most difficult for everyone.
— ‘ why? ’
his gaze flickers from the words on the page to the little girl and then settles on mike's face, scrutinizing every scratch and speck of dirt as he awaits an answer.
stupid. he had been stupid and reckless, letting the kid crawl on the grass, enjoying a cool summer breeze, the nearly toothless grin he was offered enough to make his guard slightly go down. the gear that usually covers his mouth and nose had been bunched down, his rifle laid a few feet away from him, resting against a tree. there's of course a small weapon in his back, can feel its metal tucked in the waistband of his pants. « point that at me, not the kid, @nighthire. » his voice is cold, deadly, already planning how he's going to get that guy down without hurting a hair of the kid's head. wonders if he can be quick enough to throw his knife at the guy's head, din is not worried about missing, he's more worried of the guy getting trigger happy.
a look is given, wide black hues staring at him, a few babbles out of his mouth, the kid has to be fine and for that to open, din has to survive. there are not many ways he can see for that to happen.
💜 THE STARTER CALL