#out!openpost

[yurixout]

❝— Make it Stop ; open

Note: This is a flashback para, having occurred before Yuri joined the Fox clan. This was also meant to create some IC drama, so don't hold back on the angst!

    It took ten seconds for Yuri to think her options through, and if she was to be honest with herself, ten seconds were hardly enough to scrape at the edges of reason. A collective gasp echoed between tired walls, every pair of eyes in the room gouged out and glued on the trembling female who was ruefully cradling her fist. "Don't you ever dare, you scumbag," she spat before sucking in a ragged breath. Blood dribbled down quivering features and soaked an already smudged shirt, reds and browns against an off-white canvas, as bodies swarmed around the conflicting pair to barricade them from each other. It was admittedly the rashest and stupidest thing she had done in a long while; she had effectively antagonized an entire group of people both herself and Jitae had been relying on for the past two weeks, or at best diminished whatever little regard they had previously held for her. But that didn't make the fact that she had a very good reason of doing so any less true, of that, she was utterly convinced.

    Dangerously brewing beneath that calmness she had advertised without fail - till that very instance, that is - was a war of unkind feelings. She could no longer veil or varnish Jitae's deteriorating mental health, and fear, if anything, was contagious. She could taste it in the way the other survivors pretended to tiptoe around the issue; supplies were alarmingly low, but there was never a shortage of wary glances and hushed gossip. It was only a matter of time before some insensitive idiot would put the ugly reality into even uglier words. Too far beyond her limits to find her way back, nothing would have appeased Yuri at that point but the sound of a body part getting smashed beyond recognition, and so the argument ended with her fist slamming into a beautifully constructed nose, the gratifying crack reverberating in her head.

    Bitter words, albeit quite labored, slapped against her eardrums with the ferocity of a predator lunging at their prey, as the supposed "victim" rose to their feet, attempting to butt heads once more with their assailant. Yuri was tempted to hit them again. Perhaps they were right and she really was in denial. Maybe he was a liability and threat, maybe it was her fatal flaw to care for him through thick and thin, but none of that mattered. She would not stand by and allow this person, or anyone, to tear down her fiancee bit by painful bit, even when the consequences far outweigh any realistic worth. "I don't like repeating myself," the female tersely declared, struggling not to choke on the tension in the air, "Jitae is just as scarred and depraved as you are...as every one of you. He is not a threat. Do not make this an issue".

[yurixout]

❝— Fixer ; open

    Yuri's head shot up at the sound of shoes squeaking against the makeshift linoleum flooring, project in hand momentarily discarded as a familiar face came into view. A curtain of black framed her face when she nodded briefly, offering her full attention to the approaching individual, whose name she couldn't quite remember no matter how diligently she raked her brain. Odd. Then again, their previous interactions were only limited to a few occasional glances, and maybe even the edges of a pleasant conversation.

    "Can I help you with something?" her gaze quickly fell upon the object in the other's hands, a rather quaint device. The noirette curiously examined the dysfunctional piece of technology, brows knitted into a concentrated frown as she traced its contours with her fingers. Quite the intriguing challenge, and Yuri was never one to pass up on these kind of things. Brimming with excitement, she tried her mightiest to contain herself, not wanting to supply false hope. After all, she was restricted by a multitude of things. "I'll see what I can do, but I can't guarantee that it'll get repaired," she said honestly, pointing to a chaotic pile of wires, metal and plastic, "or if suitable parts are even available".

[yurixout]

❝— Pressure ; open

    She cursed under her breath, forehead resting against the dumpster's metal surface as she struggled to keep her tears from rolling down reddened cheeks. The wind had grown angry and frigid, and the world around her dulled into dreary shades to match her distress. “Why? Why now?”, she croaked despairingly, locked in a state of quiet panic. Many others would have bawled their eyes out and screamed their throats raw had they been crushed under the weight of a giant dumpster for what seemed like half a day. The idea rolled around in the tech's head every so often, who unsurprisingly didn't fancy the thought of being a zombie's next meal. Someone should have questioned her prolonged absence by now; if only her arms were long enough to reach the radio that had accidentally hurled itself out of her backpack, teasing her from just a few feet away. Arm drawn out and fingers pleading, her lithe form stretched towards the fallen device, disregarding the fact that she was about to tear at the seams. That was, until an acute stab of pain sliced through her upper body, shattering the silence. Lips chewed violently, her free hand was quick to provide mild relief as she tentatively massaged the stiffness in her neck. Yuri didn’t exactly know the extent of damage done to her shoulder, but the rattling spasms and numbness that claimed her limb left no doubt in her mind that it wasn’t less than what she suspected.

    She cursed again, channeling her renewed resolve into another push. “It’s not like I have anything better do, anyway," she bitterly hissed, placing the plumped tips of her fingers on crusting metal. Her hand was too numb - so much that she didn’t feel the edge she had gripped bite into her flesh until warmth rivered into the oblique wound. This time, she felt like banging her head against the wall she was pinned against, as streams of red snaked all over her hand. The wound was neither deep or severe, and the amount of blood wasn’t enough for zombies to get drawn to its scent - that was, unless they were frighteningly close. She was equally doomed, either way. Exhausted, her body slumped in resignation, forced to preserve an awkward and severely uncomfortable posture. With a scowl, she eyed her heavy captor, hellbent on somehow hurting and bruising it. And so she did. Frustration poured out in the form of kicks and strikes, loud clangs ringing loudly through the alley before realization slapped her right in the face. She was ringing a dinner bell, practically inviting more trouble. How stupid of her.

    As if on cue, a shadow emerged from the alley's mouth, vaguely silhouetted and molding into the dimness. Yuri froze, unsure of what to do as the figure inched closer with every stuttered breath she took, something bitter crawling up the back of her throat. She struggled to still her shuddering form and so chose to ignore it, pushing herself against the hard surface with the intention of going right through it. It all suddenly felt like a tightening noose around her neck; despite the many things she had seen and done, she had never been so thoroughly overwhelmed by a single emotion in her life. And she couldn't subdue it for the life of her.

[gainxout]

Books, texts, knowledge --- no, she had never had any use for such privileges. What would she earn by knowing of emperors and algorithms? Voyages and battles fought in ink? She had always been a survivor, after all. She was quick in distinguishing necessities and commodities, and she hardly even considered education as a priority.

For that particular reason, she found incredible irony in her situation at the moment. To think she would be trapped in a library she had blocked out of her mind during her days on the streets --- had the situation not been so grave, perhaps she would have slipped a smirk. But no. There were plenty of dead marching down the streets, with several hiding throughout the building she had taken shelter in. She had been nice and quiet while navigating through the abandoned structure, but the sheer size provided paranoia at every small corner. There was no telling where an infected being was lying, ready to spring ---

The hand that covered her mouth from behind sent shots of adrenaline painfully bursting through her bloodstream. Alarms seemed to explode in her head, eyes widening out of sheer shock. Something had her in its grip, dragging her into the shadows of the library. Pale hands grabbed and scratched at the figure holding her, small whimpers escaping her throat in response to her rapid heartbeat. Was she going to die like this? In an unfamiliar world that had threatened to steal her away so many times? 

[celesxout]

— ❝ ɪɴᴇxᴘᴇʀɪᴇɴᴄᴇᴅ...❞ ↪ ( ᴘs × __ )

Dread. That is the only accurate way to describe the feeling of absolute terror that forces her eyes to flicker swiftly from left to right, up and down as her head swivels on her shoulders to receive a better perception of her current surroundings. Her heart beats fiercely within her chest, thumping rapidly with enough strength that she is sure it can be heard far into the empty distance. And that is what frightens her, causing her legs to wobble and tremble as she stands there waiting. She had not reached this destination alone, yet alone is where she stands, enveloped by ominous silence that is inevitable to being broken in mere minutes. Something will come for her and she is doubts that her rescuer will be in the right state of mind to decipher between cannibalistic impulses and humane instincts. Still, she cannot bring herself to move for fear of producing too much noise, though she knows movement is the only option she has to escaping back to the lands of clan and away from the wretched area of neutrality that could only be labeled as a death trap for one.

Her eyes flutter shut for a quick moment, blocking out her sight as she attempts to sort out her currently muddled thoughts. Courage is needed, solutions and plans are as well, but her thinking process is slowed profusely by the fear continuing to inch into her system and plague her mind with horrible scenarios of pain, torment, and death. She is briefly haunted by images of hundreds of infected advancing onto as she stands completely helpless before her eyes snap back open. Seemingly, with another hasty scan of the surrounding area, there is nothing alive—or rather dead—in sight. However, that only accounts for anything not hidden behind various solid objects. A sudden cracking sound alerts her to the misfortune that seems to continuously follow her every step of the way. It sounds once more and realization shocks her into taking a single step forward, hands automatically grabbing clumsily at the pistols attached at her sides.

Snap! Crack! Crunch! The suspicious noises seem to close in all around her, slowly creeping forward with the movement of their source until the sounds become nothing of suspicion at all. Not too far away, the obvious signs of an infected are revealed as a figure trudges into her view. Both living and dead lock eyes, and the soulless look within dark irises causes her to step back. One after the other, she withdraws her weapons and aim them unsteadily at the approaching creature, all the while backing away as quickly as she is able. Terrorized, the inattentiveness with which she moves causes her to tumble backwards, tripping over something unknown. One pistol falls away from loose her grasp. It clashes horribly loud against the cemented ground before practically bouncing farther away. The impact of her fall causes her fingers to jerk, firing the weapon against her will and without proper preparation. The bullet flies through the air and makes contact with stone rather than flesh. Desperate, she attempts to steady the weapon despite her shaking hands and fires the weapon once more, only to miss again.

[naeun-out]

— after dark.

{/ In all honesty, Naeun had never been found of dark alleys, due to the classic stories of horror you hear that happens within their shadowy depths, and the fact that she’s powerless in the dark made this situation worse despite the amount of time she’s put into training to overcome the childish fright. Fear always runs deep within the slim girl’s stomach, aching whenever she walks into one; this time it’s no different, except when she reaches her hand out in front of her, she sees something. A quick blur, or movement her vision catches, but maybe it’s the headache pounding against her skull which is playing tricks on her, or the paranoia that consumes her at such a time of night; making herself conclude that it’s unbelievably, eerily quiet. However it’s something, someone, who grabs out at her and she tries to shake it off hastily. But then, without much the young female could do, her knees get swooped up and she’s knocked off her feet, and in this moment, combat skills are at the back of her mind, but the girl’s limbs go numb, unable to move. Not a sound comes out from her throat, except for the next words that surpass paled lips as she spots a figure before her. } Who are you?