The Schoolmarm

|| Miss Thomas || || Twenty-Eight || || Schoolmarm || || Scared to Death && Fighting Anyway||

[thexschoolmarm-blog]

jericho cross || gxnsmith‌

the end of days. it wasn’t the first time he’d heard someone describe their predicament in biblical terms.  and it hadn’t just bean the preacher.  a lot of people seemed to be pondering in terms of fire and brimstone these days.  and while he didn’t necessarily agree with the sentiment, he honestly couldn’t really blame them for doing so.

❝ – no ma’am.  ain’t the end. ❞

though at her next words, he somewhat regrets his own.  she had stayed, and she had tried.  and she’d witnessed.  something the likes of no one should ever have to.  but this – disease – didn’t spare the young or the innocent, the old or the infirm. didn’t spare woman or child.  it was ravenous for all.  and it took what it could.

he takes a breath.  slow and steady.  then moves to take a seat alongside her - leaving what he thinks is a respectful amount of distance.  

I was meant to protect them. I failed…

it’s a simple repetition on jerichos part.

❝ – no ma’am. ❞

he’s not good with words at the best of times.  too blunt.  too abrasive.  too honest for his own damn good.  but he does know that there are times when – tact – is worth the effort.  subtlety is something that could be… useful. in a delicate situation ( unfortunately, ‘delicate’ tended not to be in his skillset ).

❝ you tried.  s’more than some in this town did.  taking for the hills at the first sign of trouble.  and on the face of it… given what you were up against… ain’t no more you can do but try.  no one can put more of an expectation upon you than that – other than yourself. ❞

easy to say.  but guilt had a troublesome way of laying about shoulders heavier than you might expect.  and there weren’t really any words that could help ease the burden.  everyone had faces that would haunt them from here on out.  everyone would see things in their dreams - horrifying things, nightmarish things, terrifying things - that likely would stay with them for however many days they might have left.

❝ you were… kind… to them.  you thought of them before yourself.  an’ with things the way they are, maybe it’s – kindness – that will see us through. ❞

  Perhaps calling it "the end of days" was a touch dramatic, but when the dead started to walk, she couldn't help but think of the four Horsemen riding over the world to beat them down to make way for the full apocalypse. She knew there was a passage in the Bible about not being amazed or afraid or something because the day was coming when the burial tombs would be opened, but this definitely seemed something LESS than holy.

  Blinking slightly at the firm denial that this was the end of days, the surprise was enough to actually pull a smile from the woman. At least someone believed that. Maybe the belief of one person would be enough to make it the truth.

  Sniffing quietly, Anne wiped her face again as the gunsmith joins her. What she wouldn't do for someone she knew well and could lean into for a tiny bit of physical contact. Still, sitting even a little bit close to someone who wasn't in the process of judging her was a comfort in and of itself -- an act she wasn't sure the man knew the enormity of, but one she appreciated greatly.

  The second denial made Anne turn and look at him in surprise. The straight up and flat out denial was not something she ever could have expected. She couldn't fathom how anyone could think she didn't fail to protect the children. Not only had some DIED under her watch, some had run off and still hadn't been found. No one knew where they were or if they were even alive, let alone able to be rescued. How that could be seen as anything other than failure, she didn't know.

  But, listening to him speak, clearly drawing no punches and giving it to her as he saw it... Anne felt a wave of amusement and relief wash over her. Honestly, though, she hadn't taken off because she knew she couldn't survive out there on her own trying to run. Not exactly NOBLE. But, still, his words are oddly comforting, knowing that he's right about how no one could expect more of her than she did of herself. A person was always their own worst critic. And maybe being reminded of that would make this easier to bear. Eventually. There were no magic words that would erase the images from her mind and the memories of how it felt to do the things she did, but maybe eventually it WOULD get easier.

  Wiping her face, Anne offered the man a tired, but entirely genuine smile. "Thank you, Mr. Cross... your words mean more than you may know."

[thexschoolmarm-blog]

Not What I Expected || Anne & Wolf

Diego || wolf-in-horse-clothes‌

Wolf nodded enthusiastically, because in his ears that sounded like God, and he would never dare to question God. Wolf was a firm, firm believer, he knew God had a reason, he knew God had a plan. He would never at all question his faith or God himself, not even if the undead won. If so, they had it coming. He figured God would have a reason, maybe somewhere some human had done something very wrong, or this was an other Noah story. 

Wolf had heard about St. Clemens, the Veterans had mentioned it once. It was a bigger city nearby, and it scared him that people had to flee from such a big place. Not to mention, if the undead took over such a big city, there must more undead walking around now. He bit his lip, trying not to think about it. He decided not to comment on it, he decided to leave his fears unanswered for now. He accepted the hand, surprised at the adult-ness of the gesture. People didn’t often shake his hand, they mostly asked the Veterans about his name, as if he didn’t have a voice to tell it himself. And they would just say: ‘ignore the boy’. And so Boy it became. But now he got the chance to break into this place on his own terms: WITH HIS OWN NAME. “Uhm, not sure. My mom used to call me Wolf, so I got pretty used to it. But I don’t mind hearing Diego either.” His smile was extremely obvious though. The fact that she was the school teacher now made a lot of sense. “Nice to meet you, Miss Thomas,” he said, overly well mannered, because: teacher. 

  The enthusiastic nod was really all Anne needed to know that she had said the right thing. She may not be filled with faith, but Diego clearly had enough faith that hearing the thought that God had a plan with all of this was what he needed to boost him. Morale was unbelievably and yet still believably SCARCE lately with everything that's been going on. So, if she could help anyone in that regard, she could call it a good day. She could put on a brave face and offer that tiny bit of hope only because it wasn't for herself, but for someone else.

  Seeing the uncertain way the young man bit his lip, Anne gave his shoulders a gentle squeeze. "Saint Clemens is only ONE city in a very big country. Just because it has fallen doesn't mean that all hope is lost," she pointed out gently. "This is a big country. And it is a big world. It may take some time because of how big places are, but that doesn't mean the help isn't coming." The hint of surprise on his face made Anne wonder just what sort of people he found himself around if basic courtesy was something he found surprising. Then again, perhaps she didn't want to know. There were all sorts, some letting their truer natures shine now that priorities have changed. She knew that it took a certain type to survive if they didn't have the luck of others around who could help protect them like she did. Left to her own devices, Anne knew she would likely have been one of the first to fall. "Well, if you don't mind, I think I'd like to call you by your proper name, Diego," she mused with a smile, loving how bright his smile was, like there wasn't a single care in the world. "It's nice to meet you as well, Diego."

[thexschoolmarm-blog]

The Dark Outside || Anne & Pascal

pascal || pascal-deschamps·

“Danke.” Another smile, his pronunciation was excellent, but he never got tired of hearing it. He had tried to teach about five people who to speak German, thought few of them had been successful in picking it up. Due to other teaching possibilities. People liked the French Language a lot more, and he gladly taught them that. He noticed how genuine her compliment was as well, those weren’t rare either. There was a certain joy to showing off a skill and being recognized for it. And he had missed using the skill too, switching between languages, trying the taste of French, German, Dutch, and French. It almost made him wish to learn a fifth one, though he was saddened by the prospect that such was a dream for the future. And Pascal might act hopeful, but he figured there was little of a future left for them. 

It was clear that the subject had a certain affect on the young woman, and he couldn’t blame her. He wouldn’t like to live with the knowledge children had died on his watch. He figured those were the kind of nightmares that might send someone into insanity. He wondered if God would forgive her, or if He would simply test Anne beyond others, to allow her to redeem herself. Still, he decided to offer what comfort that he could, there was no reason for him to be honest about his reservations given the situation, simply because he worried about making her even more useless if he gave her the space to wallow in her feelings. “Might you feel better discussing the situation in English? I don’t mean to make it even more difficult on you having to speak of it in an other language. I know how hard it can be to do so. There is a certainty to feelings that one can best express in their mother tongue,” Pascal said, effortlessly switching. “Sauf si vous souhaitez ne plus en discuter“

  Okay, DANKE. Even she knew that word. Maybe she wasn't versed in the language, but a few main words that were often used, she could recognise. Though, she didn't get a chance to hear them often in any language other than English, sadly. She did her best to teach the children in the school at least a little French to give them a taste of what else was out there in the world for them to explore and discover. She may have never left this town, but she wanted future generations of Janestown to know that the world was out there waiting for them if they wanted it. Even though she knew that most wouldn't travel further than Saint Clemens, just knowing that she gave them the chance to know there were options out there was... not enough, but it was ALMOST enough. Maybe if she survived all of this, she would take her own advice and see more of the world and learn about the horizons beyond this town and the plains that surrounded it.

  That felt like a BIG if, these days.

  She didn't want to know what people thought about her before, so she decidedly didn't want to know now. She couldn't meet anyone's eye, not wanting to see the judgement, or worse... the PITY, that might be held there. The switch back to English throws her briefly and Anne can almost feel her brain switching gears when he speaks in her native tongue. "I don't think this would be something easy to discuss in ANY language... but I appreciate the thought, at least," she replied quietly, a ghost of a smile tugging the corners of her mouth for the briefest of moments before it died again. Biting back a soft sigh, Anne pushed a hand tiredly through her hair. She hadn't been sleeping well at all and it was beginning to get to her. "Je peux dire que je ne veux pas le discuter..."

[thexschoolmarm-blog]

pale moon || anne & dov

[thexschoolmarm-blog]

dov || dov-hevelsohn

Dov, surprisingly, found it more difficult to sleep now he was with more people. It meant, in theory, he’d have other people to keep an ear out for danger so he should’ve slept well. The last few weeks he had only himself and the horses, and he had to rely on the animals stirring if there was any danger or hope it was loud enough to wake him.

He knows it’s probably a survival instinct, not wanting to be vulnerable surrounded by people whose motives are unknown. The un-dead were at least simplistic creatures. From the little Dov observed, they had no plans or foresight. They simply… moved and didn’t stop.

It’s why he hasn’t stopped to rest and instead found a much calmer activity in the hopes that if he couldn’t sleep, he’d at least have a mental rest. Dov was fiddling with a satchel on the ground when he sees a woman’s skirt. He catches a flash of legs as she fathers her skirt stepping towards the animal. 

Dov stands quietly, not wanting to startle her. He was going to clear his throat in a moment, distracted by the new face, who spots him first. She’s embarrassed, and Dov can understand. If he hadn’t realized she was looking at the horse when she said that, he’d be flushed and stammering.

“That is okay,” Dov accepts her apology with a smile, he holds up the bag he had on the floor, “I was not hiding, but I was on the ground. Easy to miss.”

He looks around, the nights are so much colder than the blistering days, something much more familiar to the German. He missed the cold most days.

“Is sleep hard for you to find as well?” Dov asks, making conversation because he’d rather blaze past any awkwardness, he’s still far too grateful to have found any living people to hang onto trivial things.

  While she might not be sleeping well now, Anne knew it would catch up with her. She would eventually have to sleep simply due to exhaustion. Thankfully, though, she wasn't one of the people who had been chosen to do night guard watches or even a day guard watch due to her lack of experience with shooting a gun. So, at least her exhaustion wouldn't put anyone else at risk. When it eventually caught up to her, she would find a quiet place to hide herself away and sleep.

  Grateful that they had both seemed to notice each other before they were able to startle each other with their presence, Anne smiled softly back at the man. She was also VERY grateful that he realised she had been speaking to the horse. Admittedly, she could be honest with herself in that the greeting could have just as easily gone to him, not that she was actually BOLD enough to say something like that to someone she didn't know. Or even someone she did know. Her lack of social confidence just couldn't allow that.

  Still, she was grateful for the slightly dimmer light of the night to hide the way her cheeks had pinked, and for the cooler air that helped diminish it as well. "Ah, that would explain it. I apologise if I interrupted anything, I just couldn't pass up the peace I find animals bring," she admitted, brushing her fingers lightly through the horse's mane.

  She almost laughed at the question. She wasn't sure how anyone found sleep easily lately. "Unfortunately, yes... I think it's a problem for a lot of people lately, but I just found that tonight I needed to get some air," she replied, nodding as she looked over at him with another gentle smile. "Pardon my manners... I'm Anne," she added, holding a hand out in greeting.

[thexschoolmarm-blog]

david || preacher-ainsley‌

He listened as she spoke, taking in her words and nodding, when appropriate, to encourage her. She spoke of the trials she’d encountered, of losing the children, and he could see the guilt weighing on her shoulders as plain as day. He sighed. Human beings were fragile creatures, especially once combined with a conscious. The world had been a rough enough place before the dead began to walk and devour the living.  “Miss Thomas,” He said gently, turning to face the young woman, “There’s not a doubt in these folks minds-” He gestured across the town behind them, “That you did everything you could. The love and devotion you’ve shown for the children of our town out paces anyone else here. No one has shown more care for them than you. It seems the only one here who is holding you responsible for their loss… is you. As far as I can tell, there’s nothing you could’ve done better, or differently. What befell you and the children was beyond any woman’s, or man’s, capabilities. If you truly want to find peace… you’ll have to accept that.” “Now I know it won’t be easy, or quick,” He added quietly, “Guilt and shame have an awful way of taking hold of us and grippin’ tight. But you’ll have to forgive yourself first, if you want to heal.”

  Honestly, even just having someone let her talk and just LISTEN was a bit of a relief. Having it out more in the open, especially to someone she knew she could trust with how she felt and would give her the respect of not spreading any kind of rumour, made it easier to bear the load of guilt that weighed down on her. She didn't think it would ever be gone, but maybe carrying that guilt might make her stronger so she can get through this all. She didn't know how it would all work out, none of them did. There was just no way to know. All she could do was hope that she had the strength to get through these times they found themselves in.

  Taking a slow breath, Anne tightened her arms around herself and turned to the older man when he spoke again. She had appreciated the silence, but if anyone could make her feel at least a LITTLE better, she figured it would have to be someone like him. She could appreciate the attempt at assuring her that the parents who were no longer parents weren't holding her responsible for their LOSSES, even if she absolutely couldn't believe it. There was still a faint sting on her cheek where a well deserved slap had landed a few nights previously.

  "You're not wrong, Preacher... that is something so much easier said than DONE," Anne commented, her gaze drawn back to the headstone. "When you're directly responsible for the deaths of children, it doesn't feel like you should even be CONSIDERED for forgiveness. When a child you sent in to die thinking a place was safe and then had to look them in the eye and take their life in an effort to keep them from suffering... how do you forgive yourself when their blood is LITERALLY on your hands?"

[thexschoolmarm-blog]

The Dark Outside || Anne & Pascal

pascal || pascal-deschamps‌

He couldn’t help an other smile when she mentioned German. He thought his skills with languages would go extinct because he had too little practice, but it was like riding a bicycle, he just needed to take the first few steps to relearn it. The thing was that German was a language he heard more often around the American Frontier. French was just something rich families wanted their children to learn, but those children often had little interest in it. The older ones had interest in other things however, and he had spoken very little in their interactions. “Deutsch ist eine schwierige Sprache,” he said, grin spreading across his face. “En particulier, la prononciation.” He switched between both languages almost naturally, he had to admit that it was most difficult to speak English sometimes, while German, Dutch, and French seemed to be engraved into his nature enough that he didn’t have to think about it so much anymore. Although, German still remained somewhat of a challenge. He tended to use a lot of Dutch words from time to time. Because a lot of those sounded almost similar. He feared had he started to learn Catalan or Spanish, he would’ve met the same difficulties. Maybe he was being especially coy with his knowledge of languages, but it might be one of the few things he was proud of. One of the few things he knew he excelled in. 

When he answered followed, Pascal studied her, he had made a mistake asking about it, that much he had been certain about the moment the words left his mouth. But he had been so keen to talk that he just came up with subjects on the spot, hoping she would react, hoping they could continue to speak in French. He was surprised that despite the sudden wariness in her eyes, she still managed to answer in French, and due to it, he felt the need to be kind, rather than honest. “Vous ne devriez pas vous blâmer. C'était une situation terrible. Il y a peu, vous pouvez changer à ce sujet maintenant,” he offered. And he figured nobody would challenge her position of taking care of the children, in a way they would all have to do it, but she was most capable. Although, he gave everyone good reason not to trust her completely with it as well. They, Risa and Anne, had made a judgement call, clearly the wrong one, but they were women. Nobody could expect women to always make the right decisions. 

  She could easily RECOGNISE the German language, but she had no idea what the words meant. Other than the word for German. So, all she could really do was offer a shrug and a smile. "J'en ai aucun idée ce que vous avez essayé m'a dites, mais votre prononciation est exemplaire," she said, almost wishing that she had studied more languages while at university. Then again, French had been hard enough to master, she wasn't sure trying to do more than one language in the short amount of time that she had to study would have done her any favours at all. She was actually quite impressed with how SMOOTHLY he had switched from one language to another. It always took her a moment to switch to French and then another moment to switch out again when going back to English. So, interacting with someone who was clearly well educated in languages was a rare treat. And to have something like that in times like this was incredible and sort of the little morale boost she needed to almost feel NORMAL for a moment.

  She felt foolish even as the words left her mouth. She didn't know this man well enough to be this OPEN about things and how she felt. She could only assume with was the intensity of her feelings that left her spilling what she would normally reveal to NO ONE to this man. Caught off guard in an emotional state and by the near normalcy of conversing with someone in another language. Still, it was said now, there was no taking it BACK. So, instead she tries to pull herself back and recompose herself. "Il y'a rien que je peux faire l'à-propos maintenant, mais je sais que je n'ai fait pas tous que j'ai pourrai pour eux..." she said quietly, jaw setting slightly before she looked up at the man again. "C'etait une erreure que je ne vais JAMAIS faire encore."

[thexschoolmarm-blog]

Not What I Expected || Anne & Wolf

wolf || wolf-in-horse-clothes‌

Wolf nodded, trying to do it enthusiastically, though he wasn’t too happy with the situation. THERE WERE DEAD PEOPLE. Dios Mio. ¿Cómo se suponía que lidiar con eso? His mind drew a blank on most of these matters, he decided to just follow this lady, to hope other people had answers for him, that other people could tell him what to do, so that he wouldn’t feel terrible having to figure that out for himself. “Maybe He hasn’t figured out himself yet what we should do. Or maybe He hopes we figure it out ourselves.” Wolf suggested, God was kind, but he had been taught to believe that God didn’t do anything unless there was nothing else to be done. 

Soldiers! Wolf hadn’t even been thinking about help from the American armies. He hoped news would reach them quickly, maybe he could take a horse and ride East, find one of the forts, convince the soldiers that there was a plague. That dead people were rising. But would they believe him. And maybe the sickness had reached the fort before he could. He felt himself shiver at the thought. “How far away is the nearest fort?” 

Maybe a change of subject would be better. “Uhm, my name… my name is Diego,” he said. “But I usually go by Wolf.” 

   In all honesty, Anne had NO idea if anyone would ever come for them. If the whole country was under the same threat as they were here in their one small town, the Army was probably far too busy to be worried about a single small town. They would have to protect larger cities and IMPORTANT places. Janestown... she just didn’t think they would rate against the rest of the country. But, there was no real harm in having a little hope that even if it took time, help would be coming... was there? Given everything they were going through, hope might be all that they had to keep them going to see this to the end and SURVIVE.

   And now she had something else to focus on, making sure this young man was brought into the group to be safer with more people looking out for everyone else and getting him SETTLED. Maybe if he did get settled, he would decide to stay. Which would make her feel better than thinking of him and his companions, wherever they were, just wandering back out into the wilderness to hope for the best. “I think that God definitely has a plan... we don’t ALWAYS know what it is or understand the lesson we’re being taught at the time, we will come through for the better,” she replied, biting the inside of her cheek. She honestly wasn’t really sure how much she believed her own words at this point, but there was no sense in giving someone else LESS hope just because she didn’t have much.

   His question made Anne frown slightly. “I believe the closest would be near Saint Clemens, but I’m not sure... it’s not something I ever felt I NEEDED to know. But, I do know that Saint Clemens is no better than we are here and if there is another, it would be too far to reach without horses and supplies,” she mused, shaking her head, hoping that she had dissuaded that idea. She could understand the desire to go and bring help, but it was too much of a risk. Softening a bit when the young man introduced himself, Anne smiled and offered her free hand to him. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Diego. Do you PREFER Wolf, or may I call you by your actual name?” she asked, wanting to know what he preferred. “My name is Anne, though you may hear me referred to as Miss Thomas. I’m the town’s school teacher.”

[thexschoolmarm-blog]

david || preacher-ainsley‌

Her question hung in the air, heavy as millstone tied around ones neck. Guilt seemed to be something that hung over everyone, whether with the inclusion of the Almighty or not. They’d been forced to do things they’d have never pictured themselves doing, many of them having even taken lives- if the sick were in fact alive- and it was natural for guilt to be associated with such an action. The Preacher himself had wrestled with the idea. “I think,” He said quietly, his eyes tracing the words written on the child’s cross, “That the Good Lord knew this day would come, and knew what must be done to not be swept away with it.” The man sighed. “We’ve all done things we never thought we would. I have to think the Lord understands, and would not hold us guilty for such actions if they were done with the intent to save lives, and the lives of each other.”  He tried to give her a small, encouraging smile. “What’s troubling you, Miss Thomas? I can practically hear the turmoil in your mind from here.”

  It was a heavy, loaded question that no one person could possibly answer, not even the preacher, but if she didn't put some of the weight out into the world by asking, Anne was sure it would CRUSH her. Maybe if she could just sleep without seeing those grabbing hands and dead eyes and broken, bloody teeth... or the faces of the children. But, that didn't seem like it would be possible any time soon. She knew she ought to feel some guilt for the actions she had taken against the people she knew that had become those things, but once they had turned their grotesque sights on the children, she had lost any sense of compassion or guilt for them. They weren't HUMAN anymore. They couldn't be. To swarm like locusts and tear apart anything living that they could get to... no living human could do that. No, she felt no guilt or shame for the things she did against the devils walking around in the dead bodies of her fellow townsfolk. What weighed heavily on her shoulders and heart was the guilt towards the LIVING and the ways she had failed them and the worry she would only continue to do so.

  "I've heard it's the road to HELL that's paved with good intentions, Preacher," Anne replied, shaking her head and touching the cross again. "And I somehow think I'm a lot more all right with that possibility than I ever would have guessed I could be."

  She did certainly BELIEVE in God and in angels and heaven, but she did also believe in the Devil and demons and hell and if the Devil had sent his demons here to Earth, maybe the only way to defeat them was to become one yourself. It had certainly felt less than saint like when the rage had clutched her and left her beating the crowd of undead with all her might when they went for one of the children. And it hadn't even been ENOUGH.

  Turning to look at the Preacher when he asked what was troubling her, a ghost of a smile crossed Anne's face briefly. Sighing softly, she wrapped her arms around herself and looked up into the open sky. "I haven't come to confess my sins, Preacher... God knows what I've done. And what I failed to do. And by now.... so do MOST folks around here." When she turned back to look at him, her eyes were wet, but she was too tired to actually cry anymore. "It's no secret that I couldn't protect them..."

[thexschoolmarm-blog]

The Dark Outside || Anne & Pascal

pascal || pascal-deschamps·

Pascal’s thoughts were mostly happy, he didn’t care for the woman but that she talked in the same language as he did. It was a nice change of pace, and he could keep at it forever, because he certainly had enough to talk about. It felt like he could finally loosen his tongue after all this time - although Pascal had never been someone who didn’t talk a whole lot. “Parlez-vous d'autres langues que le français?” he asked, small-talk, anything to keep it going, anything to ensure he could continue speaking it. He wouldn’t even mind if she spoke English back to him, as long as he could continue to express himself properly. He was even slightly forgetting his initial reaction to her. She was slightly higher on his list now, for at least she managed to keep up with him, and that was in itself impressive. 

“Exactement,” he responded, the grin remaining. “Ah, vrai. Ce n'est pas si simple. Si seulement.” He looked at her then, wondered if by just talking he could continue a conversation and not have his reservations about her. He needed something to live on at this moment, and talking about the dead town wasn’t such a great subject. “vous prenez soin des enfants, non?“ His gaze moved back to the General Store. He had seen a lot of kids around the place, but he figured there had been more. “Connaissent-ils le français aussi?“ he added, hoping to make it a little lighter. 

  While Anne was more than used to talking at length, it was most often with her students in lectures and studies rather than holding conversations with people closer to her own age. The ones she had grown up here with had long accepted the fact that she wasn't overly social, preferring her books and writings to socialising. And she hadn't even MEANT to do more than come out to give the man his coffee before taking a short walk on the safer streets and heading back inside, but Pascal seemed KEEN to talk, so she wasn't going to deny him that chance. "Uh... pas vraiment. J'ai étudié le français et mon père connaissait un peu l'allemand, mais je n'y étais jamais très bon," Anne admitted with a slight shrug. She thought German might have been easier than French since many English words had some Germanic influence, but she had found the language clunky in her mouth and it never flowed quite right. "Maintenant, je serai chanceuse si je peux me souvenir plus que cinq mots."

  Her head came around sharply at the question about the children, the cold guilt she had almost managed to forget for a moment in their conversation wrapping itself tightly around her insides once again. Her gaze wasn't suspicious, just a touch WARY as she tried to discern why he would be asking about the children. "A une fois... mais je pense qu'aucune personne veut que je le fait maintenant... et je ne peux pas leur blâmés," she replied, her tone flat and soft now. Wrapping her arms around herself, Anne turned her head to stare down the lane, knowing the horrific scenes that lay just beyond her sight. "Il n'était pas nécessaire de terminer leurs études, mais j'ai fait ma mieux pour ceux qui étaient intéressés."

[thexschoolmarm-blog]

pale moon || anne & dov

dov || @dov-hevelsohn

   Sleep had been hard to come by since the dead had first starting walking through their streets, but it was so much harder now with the images of recent days filling her mind and refusing to leave her any rest. And it wasn’t like she had anyone to truly confide in. She and Risa were too different, even though it had been a shared experience, neither of them had truly gone through the SAME thing. It was hard not to completely isolate herself, but the children who didn’t know where their parents were or whose parents had died still needed her. In the daylight, it was much easier to put on a brave face and get through what needed to get done, but once the pale moon rose to cast a cold light over the town, it felt impossible to hide anything.

   Picking up the iron poker that had become her weapon of choice, Anne moved quietly through the room and let herself out. The air was cool and fresh and for a brief moment, she just stood with her eyes closed and let it wash over her. It was almost enough to make her feel NORMAL for a moment. A moment that ended as soon as she opened her eyes again and looked around.

   The quiet snort of a horse drew Anne’s attention and she smiled softly. Most of the horses in town had run off in the initial chaos. Gathering her skirt in one hand, she stepped down and moved to the animal, watching it carefully as she extended a hand to let it get her scent. “Well, hello, gorgeous,” she murmured softly. Shifting slightly, Anne’s eyes widened when she saw another figure standing on the other side of the horse, just out of her line of sight until she had moved. Flushing slightly, she ducked her head. “My apologies... I thought I was the only one out here.”

[thexschoolmarm-blog]

Not What I Expected || Anne & Wolf

wolf || wolf-in-horse-clothes‌

Wolf could be said to be disappointed, he hoped they would have the resources to run away. Staying in the town to starve or get killed by the undead seemed like a terrible plan, not really a plan, a terrible way to go. He bit his lip as he thought about it, thought about never seeing his family again. And they would never know what happened to him, just that they would never see him again. 

“Oh okay.” He looked down. At his feet, where he pushed the dirt away with the sole. “Maybe He had nothing to do with it, maybe it’s the devil, and He tried to stop it, but He thinks we can fight it.” And also, he didn’t like to think that God would test them in such a way, unless if it was really important that they were to be tested, but Wolf saw little flaw in humanity as it was. They weren’t slaughtering each other… except for now. They actually were, slaughtering each other. That could never be what God wanted for them. “Maybe there is a way to defeat the creatures.” He wasn’t sure what to call them. 

“Weeks,” he repeated. All that time they had been on the road, far away from here. Wolf hadn’t seen any living soul in all that time aside from the Veterans. But they had gone into town, so what if they had known. What if this wasn’t the only place hit. “Do you… do you know where it came from?” He was actually glad for the slight brush against his hair. 

  If there was ever a time for wishes, now would definitely be it. And if there was any chance of any wish coming true, Anne would wish for a horse and a week's worth of supplies she could make last as long as possible to try and get as far away from this nightmare as she could. But, if wishes were fishes, they would all FEAST forever. Watching the young man reacting to the news, though, the only wish she could make was that she could get him through this in the hopes of him finding his way back to wherever he was from... hopefully to family.

  "I'm sorry... I wish I had better news," Anne said softly, brushing her fingers lightly through his hair again. She could only help it was of SOME comfort. "You might be right. I don't think God could ever do this to his people. But, I sure do wish He would give us a sign on what it is we're supposed to do." She smiled softly when he made the comment about defeating the creatures. "There must be a way. And if there is one, we'll find it."

  Maybe if she sounded confident enough, it would be true.

  "No... I don't. I just know it's here. and other places too," Anne admitted, shaking her head slightly. "But, I think if it's other places then maybe there's hope. Maybe the news has reached bigger places and they'll be sending soldiers out to help folks like us. It may take some time, but they'll come."

[thexschoolmarm-blog]

jericho || gxnsmith‌

huh.  the woman that emerged didn’t really look in any state to be going… well, anywhere.  clearly in the midst of - well… something.  he doesn’t know what.  and the manner of distress was visible on her face, ringing true in her voice, even when there was a moment taken to compose herself.  there’s something of a half squint as jericho turns his head to bring the woman into full focus - a trait that was simply second nature to the gunsmith, that damned eye only giving a blurred vision of light and shade, his other having to work to keep up… and in the relative darkness, with only the soft light from the store behind, it was something of a struggle… 

❝ – ma’am? ❞

a polite greeting, but the question in that single word is obvious.  he knows her.  knows her face and voice and name.  knows that she is… was… the local school teacher… not someone who had any need of frequenting the smithy, nor turning a hand of cards in the saloon - their paths had crossed enough for a nod and a smile and a few casual words, but little more than that.

❝ – miss thomas, why don’t you take a seat… ❞

a small step back and he’d like to offer something like a chair, but there’s really only the slightly dusty steps, which he does bend down to give a quick swipe at with his hand - the effort doesn’t make a great deal of difference.  he’d also probably offer a handkerchief - if he had one.  but the smith isn’t really the kind of man who carries such finery, usually it was just a ragged cloth smeared with gunoil or covered in chars of ember burns.  as it is… he has neither.

❝ – is there something wrong? ❞

he could kick himself.  that’s a real dumb question.  there was very little right at the moment.  infected townsfolk, dead friends and family… 

❝ – i mean, aside from… y’know…? ❞

one hand waves vaguely toward the street, an all encompassing gesture meant to somehow encompass all of the terror they had seen on their streets over recent days.  and while he doesn’t know if there’s anything he can do to help - the moment they lost that sense of compassion for one another, was the moment they might as well wander out into the wilderness and offer themselves up as a snack.

  Coming out here had been a ridiculous idea. Of COURSE after everything that had happened, they would have someone on watch at all times. Still, she had to admit, being seen breaking down by only ONE person as opposed to many was a nicer option. There were several people inside who thought she had no right to be emotional. She knew that the kids weren't her kids, but they were... in a sense. She taught them, coaxed them, tried to inspire them, FOUGHT for them... they were her kids almost as well as anyone else's. Especially the ones who didn't have family in the town. They had needed her the most and she had failed them.

  Hastily, she wiped face with one hand when the man spoke again, catching the unasked question in the simple word. She tried her best to smile, give the air of composure she used to carry before the world went all to hell in a hand basket. "I'm fine."

  She was sure she didn't sound any more convincing to the gunsmith than she did to HERSELF.

  The offer of a seat and the gesture of wiping some of the dirt from the stairs is well received and her smile is far more genuine, if still a bit tremulous. "That's very kind, thank you," she said quietly, taking the spot offered. At this point, she hardly cared about the dust. Everything she had was dusty now and there was little sense wasting water to wash things out only for them to get dusty AGAIN.

  Setting her feet up on the stair just beneath herself, Anne drew her knees in close to herself, much the way a child might. She felt lost and scared enough to be a child herself. She couldn't help the tired, wet laugh at the question, wiping her face again as she turned an equally TIRED smile to the man.

  "Well, Mr. Cross... aside from the..." Anne gestured towards the street the same way he had. "I'm not even sure what to call this MESS anymore... an attack? A plague? The end of days?" Reining herself in, Anne wiped her face again, struggling to regain any sense of composure. But, it was far too late for that now. She had no real choice but to let the tears that had been threatening to fall come.

  "The children... I was meant to protect them. I failed..."

[thexschoolmarm-blog]

preacher-ainsley‌:

Death, as it was often said, was the strongest argument against the existence of a Creator. Of a loving God, who cared deeply for each of them- the God who the Preacher had shared each morning with his congregation, and held to himself in the craziness of this life. David stood in the graveyard, the dirt of the fresh graves noticeably different from those that had passed on before the sick had made their way into town. Children, mothers, fathers… they’d lost their fair share of folks.

His fingers massaged his brow as he sighed quietly, wrestling in his heart.  Could a God who loved them allow this to happen? He knew the answers were not always easy, but he also knew that God didn’t wish these things upon his children. Sin had brought evil into the world, and the Devil was like a roaming lion, seeking whom he may devour, the Word said. All they could do was hold on. The loud creek of the rusty gate announced a newcomer to the town’s small cemetery, bringing him back to reality as he stood before the grave of a child. “Pardon me,” He said quietly, “Just paying my respects this mornin’.”

  She was still nursing blisters on her hands from her part in digging the graves for the children that had been lost. There was nothing she could do that would ever make up for having not protected them like she had been expected to, but it was SOMETHING. And the pain in her hands and back felt well deserved, though she knew it wouldn't do anything in the long run. After the graves had been dug, she had stayed away, giving the parents left to mourn the space to do so.

  Now, though, she felt like staying away was doing her conscience more harm than good. She'd hoped at this earlier hour she might not interrupt others, but she had apparently been wrong about that. Still, if anyone wouldn't object to her being there, Anne had to think it would be the Preacher.

  "Sorry, Preacher... I came to do the same," she admitted softly, shutting the gate as quietly as she could before stepping into the cemetery. Stopping beside the man, Anne bowed her head and crossed herself before reaching out to touch the cross that had been placed at the head of the grave.

  "Do you think God will forgive us for the things we've had to do to survive this?"

[thexschoolmarm-blog]

The Dark Outside || Anne & Pascal

pascal || pascal-deschamps·

Pascal smiled, kindly. His English was supposed to be at least a little excellent, given how long he had been in America for, how often he had spoken the language over the past couple of years. Not to mention, his knowledge of other languages helped in picking up a new one without any classes. She was taught in French, he heard it from her sentence structures, it was the kind of French he had learned at school, the basic, yet formal French. He too spoke that way, unlike when he spoke Dutch, a language he had learned from being placed in circumstances where he was listening more than talking. “Merci, c’est bon. Je suis dans ce pays depuis un certain temps maintenant,” he admitted. “Beaucoup de pratique.” 

“Ton accent est clair, mais je peux le comprendre.” He grinned, it wasn’t an empty compliment. He was enjoying himself with talking French with someone, for the first time in a long time. Often he was used by the sons and daughters of rich families who wanted to practice their French or their Dutch or their German. And he would gladly do so, in exchange for a small fee that was. He found it much easier to talk about what he saw or felt in his own language. “C'est vraiment dommage, il est faux,” he sighed. “J'essaie d'être optimiste cependant,” Pascal added, a little smile there, but it was empty. He tried, but he wasn’t an optimist at heart. 

  His smiles seemed to be getting kinder and more genuine. It helped, she supposed, that there was some flattery to be gained from her words. The foreigner definitely did strike her as the sort who would enjoy flattery, even it was passing and vague. Though, almost as soon as she had those thoughts, Anne scolded herself quietly. There was no sense in being judgemental of the others they were stuck with. They needed to rely on each other now. She couldn't exactly afford to keep to herself like she was wont to do in her previous life. The thought of thinking of it as a previous life was painful, realising that NOTHING would ever be the same again. Even if this plague were to eventually pass, the losses they had suffered and the things they had done to survive it would leave them all forever changed. "Ça fait du sens... plus vous pratiquez quelque chose, plus vous serez performant."

  Her laugh was barely more than an amused exhale, the tiniest shake of her head accompanying it. She was American born and raised, and taught her French by other Americans, as she had said, of COURSE she had an accent. She would never be a Francophone. "Au moins que vous pouvez me comprendre," she mused with a small smile. The thought of trying to be OPTIMISTIC in this sort of situation was nearly laughable. "Je pense que nous pouvons être pardonnés si nous ne sommes pas optimistes avec tout ce qui se passe."

[thexschoolmarm-blog]

Not What I Expected || Anne & Wolf

wolf || wolf-in-horse-clothes

Wolf had to admit he wasn’t listening full attention at first, he was too happy to hear himself being called “young man” which was far more applicable than kid or boy, he thought. He had grown so used to it, but that didn’t mean he didn’t wish to be titled differently. But with that out of his thoughts, he focused on her answer. It was just a suggestion, something he felt like he needed to know, in order to somehow understand what they were all dealing with. Maybe he shouldn’t expect such things of these people, maybe they had a hard time as it was, and they didn’t need to be reminded of their situation, and maybe they had thought about these things already, but decided against it. He was just a boy… young man that was. 

“Oh. So, there no… we can’t go to any other town then… what if the whole country has…” He paused, his parents, his family, his siblings. He stopped himself from finishing the sentence. “The God doomed us,” he suggested, because that was how it felt. How would God ever allow for such a thing to happen? For monster like this to walk around? The death weren’t meant to walk around, they were meant to stay death. He tried to make sense of it, but it seemed so impossible and unholy. He was calmer, but he knew he still hadn’t accepted it as the truth. He was still hoping the dead face with the dead eyes was simply an illusion, that they were testing him. Maybe laughing with him.

That the Veterans would suddenly jump out from behind a building and laugh at him. Despite the humiliation, he would still prefer that to the alternative: that this was truly happening. “How long ago did you say the town was attacked?” He asked in a small voice. 

  Maybe they SHOULD be trying to rid themselves of the threat directly within town. But, how could they do that safely? And without alerting any roaming undead outside of town and bringing even more trouble down on their heads? Anne had no idea. She liked to think she was smart, but her smarts came from books. Planning ATTACKS or whatever one might call a plan to get rid of the undead within town was not exactly on the list of her notable skills. That sort of thing was better left to those who might be able to think of something intelligent that could be done as safely as possible. Perhaps the deputies. Or others with hunting experience. She wasn't one of those sorts of people.

  "We could TRY, but I don't think we'd have the resources to survive even to Saint Clemens, much less anywhere further away," Anne admitted, brows knitting. The idea of simply running away and finding a place to start over was certainly APPEALING, but there was just no perceivable way to do it. She bit the inside of her cheek lightly, not sure how to respond to his claim that God had doomed them. "Perhaps he has... or perhaps he's simply TESTING us. But, if he is, I'm not sure what kind of test this could be or how anyone could pass it," she mused, shaking her head slightly. She, herself, had a few questions of faith since this had happened. Maybe she should seek advice from the town's preacher, but she had never really been MUCH for religion. She certainly believed in God and the Devil and all those beings came with, but something about the church never fully convinced her, though she knew no other way to try and get to know God and be one of His sheep he would bring to greener pastures.

  The small voice that came from the young man tugged her heartstrings and Anne reached her hand up to brush his hair back lightly. "It's been a few weeks now... we spent a good amount of time in the sheriff's jail house until a herd of bison drew them away."

[thexschoolmarm-blog]

gxnsmith‌:

open starter [ post event ]

there’s a rat.  small black beady eyes, tiny pink feet and a long pink tail.  it’s sniffing at something in the dirt.  something that could quite easily be a chunk of… someone.  maybe someone he’d once known.  perhaps had even shared a drink or a smile with.  maybe even someone he’d cared for.  he’ll never know.  it’s probably not worth dwelling on.  

he’s half tempted to throw a rock at the creature.  but for all it’s supposedly vermin, he can’t quite bring himself to kill anything else right now.  ( that, and the fact that his depth perception is pretty much non existent, chances of him even coming close to hitting it were… slim to none - he might as well toss the rock straight up ).  it’s kinda nice just to see that something other than themselves survived.

it’s only when he hears a small scuff on the wood porch behind that there’s a half turn - the reverie and his little tete-a-tete with the rodent broken by the presence of someone else.  the small creature pricking up at the movement, seemingly weighing up it’s options - run, or chance investigating it’s prize.  for his part, he doesn’t draw any unwarranted attention to it - live and let live?  eh… something like that.

❝ – does feel a little crowded in there, huh? ❞

just his own observation, and at least they had a little more confidence in stepping out of the door than before, town no longer swarming with infected.

❝ – reckon you’re okay out here for a bit - if’n you’re needin’ some air.  and if y’needin’ some privacy then… feel free, just.. don’t step out too far. ❞

  Coming back to the main part of town after everything that had happened... it had been almost impossible. The thought of facing people and having to report that their child was either dead or missing after having run towards the wilds beyond the town limits was even more nauseating than the undead they had faced. There were images Anne would never get out of her head, blood she would never be able to fully wash off her hands, and guilt no amount of prayers for forgiveness could ever assuage.

  Still reeling from the well-deserved slap that left her face red and stinging, Anne stumbled to the door. It was too much and she found herself struggling to breathe in the warm air inside. She hit the door with a touch more force than she had intended, nearly stumbling through it and onto the wooden porch, gripping the door tightly lest the lightheadedness settling in take her over completely. She was strong than this... wasn't she?

  A half started sob choked off with a quiet noise of surprise at the voice off to her left and Anne let go of the door, allowing it to swing closed behind her. Blinking away the wetness stinging her eyes, Anne cleared her throat softly and pushed her hair back from her face in an attempt to regain her composure.

  "Yes, it's a little... much..."

  She could her the tremour in her own voice and bit the inside of her cheek. "My apologies... I didn't mean to interrupt your solitude... I just needed air," she murmured quietly, half turning away. "I... I don't think I dare go anywhere by myself after what happened..."

[thexschoolmarm-blog]

The Dark Outside || Anne & Pascal

pascal // pascal-deschamps·

Despite his feelings towards regarding things not properly thought through, he did enough the practice of talking French with someone, even someone with a bad accent and who admitted to not having used it in some time. She must be intelligent, if the language came natural enough that she formulated her sentences correctly. He was appreciative however, a kinder smile pulling to his lips, a more genuine expression, the cafe being sipped from his mug with a delicate motion. Living with her might be bothersome, but with every French word that passed through his eardrums, he was coming back on that initial thought. For now at least. “Hélas, vous parlez très bien malgré cela. mieux que mon anglais” He added with a grin, useless charm perhaps. But he was enjoying be able to talk in French, to have those words roll so effortlessly off his tongue. He still thought in French, sometimes Dutch, but rarely in English, no matter how long he had been here. 

“Sans l'accent, j'aurais peut-être pensé que vous étiez un locuteur natif,” he added with charm, smiling, as he followed her gaze into the empty streets. “C'est hanté, non?” he sighed. “Ce n'est pas ma ville. Mais je suis néanmoins attristé par son vide.” 

  It was strange, but honestly speaking in French was almost a relief. It took her out of the current state of their lives and allowed her mind to concentrate on something else, even if that something else was only words describing that state in a different language. It was enough of a difference that it meant she didn't have to fully focus on the way things were going. Even if she didn't truly believe there was much sincerity behind his kind words, the distraction was welcome. "C'est faux, ça... votre anglais... c'est excellente," she replied with a tiny shake of her head. She highly doubted that he struggled with his English the way she was struggling a little with her French. Most of it was coming back easily, but she knew her conversational knowledge would be very basic compared to that of a native speaker of the language.

  A small laugh slipped out before Anne could help herself. "C'est vrai... mon accent est terrible... mais, une Américaine enseigné par des autres Américains..." she mused with a bit of a shrug, amusement tugging at the corners of her mouth as she glanced over at the man. "Il y a tellement de choses qui peuvent être aidées." Her smiled faded, however, looking back out over the streets at his words, arms tightening around herself. "Je n'avais jamais compris l'expression «ville fantôme» auparavant. Maintenant, ça me terrifie de voir à quel point c'est réel."