#ricksdonerightbyme

[xcathartic]

@ @ You are my sunshine, my only sunshine. You make me happy, when skies are grey. You'll never know dear how much I love you. Please don't take my sunshine away. Send this to ten blogs you love and will always follow~

ooc;

[abloodstainedconscience-blog]

{ + ricksdonerightbyme

"Daryl, has any of the Woodbury survivors complained lately?" 

[sheriffsdeputyrickgrimes-blog]

Untitled

The air outside was less stifling than inside the moving truck, and there was a light breeze that cooled the sweat on Rick's back. He slammed the door of the van and walked up the creaky steps to the door of the house. With the keys from his pocket, he unlocked the door and stepped inside.

Sunlight streamed through cracked windows, and dust floated in the air as Rick closed the door behind himself. The air smelled faintly of mold and bird droppings. No wonder the place was so cheap. It was all Rick could afford at the moment, living on a police officer's salary while paying for child support was a strain on his wallet. He really ought to have checked out the place beforehand, but he'd been a bit desperate to get away by the time the divorce papers had been signed, sick of living in a motel room.

Rick stepped further into the house, exploring first the kitchen (the drains were rusted, but working), then the living room (nothing in there but a suspiciously stained couch), then the dining room (a cramped space with a table and two mis-matched chairs). Then he went upstairs to the where the bedroom and bathroom were located. Impossibly, it was even dustier upstairs. The bedroom was not large, but seemed comfortable enough, with a decent-looking queen sized bed in the corner and a table to the side. There was a large window that overlooked the front of the house and Rick opened it to let some fresh air in.

The view from the bedroom wasn't bad. He could see the van and the road beyond it, along with the trees that surrounded his house, and, if he squinted, he could see the silohuette of the town that was a few minutes away by car. He stood there for a moment before turing back to explore the adjoining bathroom. It was small, with just a bath and a toilet- and no sink; Rick would have to wash his hands in the tub.

He went oustide again to bring in his boxes. One by one, he arranged them as well as he could according to what would go where. By the time he'd finished, the sun had begun to set and he was exhausted. Realising he hadn't eaten anything since the morning, Rick figured he'd drive down to the grocery store and buy something to eat. He would go shopping tomorrow, but he needed something to hold him through 'till then.

---

The lights in the grocery were bleach white and Rick had to take a minute for his eyes to adjust. The store was air conditioned and pleasant, and quite empty; there seemed to be no more than two or three people in the shop, besides himself. Music played from speakers above him as Rick grabbed a basket and started walking through the eriely quiet aisles.

Besides the food, he picked up some other essentials- things he had not thought to buy beforehand; toothpaste, soap, and some other cleaning products. He then found his way lingeringly to the cash register, not eager to leave the air conditioned bliss of the store. After staring to long at the gum rack pretending to shop, he grabbed a random one and hoisted his basket onto the conveyor belt to unpack.

The man behind the belt looked up from the book he was reading and Rick smiled at him tiredly. The man flicked his eyes up and down his body and began to scan Rick's items. Rick's smile faltered.

Tapping his fingers against the side of the basket, Rick realised he must look a mess. There was dirt all over his hands and under his nails, and his shirt -originally white- was stained brown.

"Thirty-two fifty," a gruff voice startled him out of his reverie.

As Rick fumbled in his pocket for change, he shot an apologetic look to the cashier. He counted out the money and handed it over to the waiting man. He picked up his bags, nodding at the cashier who had already gone back to his book, and left.

The stifling heat came as a surprise and Rick struggled to take a breath. He sighed heavily and threw his stuff into the van, trying to adjust to the darkness of the ill-lit parking lot.

Plopping down in the drivers seat, he grabbed a sandwich from the bag and bit into it, savouring the taste of food after a long day of work. He sat there, methodically eating his sandwich until his eyes adjusted, focusing on nothing but the taste of the meat and the texture of the bread.

{an' that's all i've got. the cashier is daryl, but we don't know that yet.}

[aequitasxsancti-blog]

I'd trade it all [to have you here with me]

Murphy nudged another branch out of his way, teeth clenched as he stepped over roots. It was known that he was not a huge fan of change - Connor had discovered that when they'd moved from Ireland to Boston and he'd been physically sick for a week due to homesickness - and this was no better. Give him a city to wander through and he was fine, but he was apparently completely inept when in a Georgia forest. 

He mumbled under his breath in gaelic, frustration building slowly and dangerously, like a bubbling volcano or geyser or some other metaphor shit. He was done with this. 

Rarely did Murphy feel the need to cry, but he wanted to in that moment. "Dammit Connor," he mumbled, voice uncharacteristically small. "I miss ya, brother." They'd never been split up like this, and now that it was literally the end of the world, well. He would never doubt his brother's skill, but he was still worried. He disliked having his brother out of his sight more than anything else in the world, really. He just wanted to know for a fact that his twin was alright. 

He tripped over a tree root and spit out a curse, shivering as the wind gusted and blew open his pea coat. He had his turtleneck, but the temperature was dropping by the hour. It wasn't awful yet, but he could tell a cold front was coming in. He frowned, feeling sorry for himself, his mind bringing him back to happier times despite better judgement. Rocco and his stupid jokes, them sharing pizza and playing darts at three in the morning, Romeo and his bandana, Doc stuttering at them to at least walk home, Connor patching up his broken nose, Connor laughing at him as he failed to get his foot out of their broken toilet, Connor handing him a pack of cigarettes with an amused roll of his eyes, his arm draped over his shoulder, his hand on his forehead, his bright eyes - 

Murphy's world tilted, and his heart jumped into his throat as he lost his balance, sliding down the sudden incline with a yell of shock. He only had time to think 'I fuckin' hate Georgia' before he hit what felt like solid floor. It took him a moment to process just how cold he was a second later, and that the 'floor' he'd felt was actually the surface of a river. He let out a stream of bubbles and kicked, now thoroughly in panic mode, limbs flailing even as his heavy coat filled with water and threatened to drag him even further down. Of course, why would he be brought down by one of the dead bastards when he could just drown because he was a fucking idiot instead? He could practically hear Connor scolding him.