guardian

hunter jade wilson. 26. medic. leo. enfp. survivor. it seems unnatural being born together and then dying a p a r t .

[wilsonhunter-blog]

briennedufort‌:

She had been meaning to have this conversation a while, but the opportunity was only just presenting itself. During her six months with this new group, Brienne had read and re-read their various personalities and observed not-always-quietly while she assessed their skills. This wasn’t the kind of world where you could take the risk of being surrounded by wild cards. People were not machines. They could react in unpredictable ways, and of course, anything could happen, but Brienne liked to narrow down the variables.

Hunter was a doctor. That meant she was a commodity. But she had a shitty attitude, and that meant she was a liability. It was give and take, and Brienne didn’t want to be put in a situation where one had to outweigh the other. “You know why they don’t listen to you, don’t you?” she said, waiting for Hunter’s interest to be piqued, for her to hang on Brienne’s every word like a fish on a hook. “It’s because you aren’t asking in the right way.” She wasn’t asking at all most of the time. She was simply telling.

@wilsonhunter

These days, every day felt like five. Hunter became more and more thankful with every sunset, because she rarely was put on watch and sleep was a welcome retreat. As she was headed to the tent for the night, her guard was down. She didn’t even notice Brienne until she spoke, and even then it took Hunter a moment to register her words. The last thing she’d expected at this time was some sort of seminar, but Hunter was in a rare mood: a listening mood.

“Oh? I’m not commanding enough, or something?” Hunter crossed her arms, turning fully to Bri and giving up on her mission for sleep. If there was anyone she never grew spiteful with, it was Brienne. Hunter could appreciate a strong woman in charge, and she respected most of the calls that Brienne made. It wasn’t really her place to question someone who could do nothing but stand and blink, and still exude power and grace. “Is this about the hospital thing? I know we never go where I suggest going, and I know I complained a lot today, but I don’t think it’s bad enough to warrant a self-help conference.”

[wilsonhunter-blog]

lucapalermos‌:

If he was being honest, he didn’t feel like doing shit. He’d already spent half the morning sitting atop the hot roof in the boiling sun, keeping watch and twiddling his thumbs. There’d been two, maybe three infected the whole time, and they were taken care of in a matter of minutes. Frankly, there was nothing left for him to do — nothing that he wanted to do anyway. If Luca could have had his way, he’d be palming a bottle of whiskey where he sat, sipping the evening away. Instead, he just sat with his back propped against a tree stump, alone with his thoughts; perhaps the most dangerous part of the day, if the only.

Heads up, Palermo!

His reflexes were too slow having been far too engrossed in the inner-workings of his mind to see the rock as it flew in the air right toward him. It pierced his gut and he jumped back, shocked at the wicked sharp pain something so small had caused, but then again it had came from the arm of none other than Hunter herself. There’s no telling if she meant to do real harm or not; but the half smile on her face told him otherwise. 

“Got me,” he sighed, incapable of returning her friendly gesture with a smile of his own; he just couldn’t muster it, not now. So he looked away instead, to his left and then to his right, before he brought his arm up to wrap his hand around the back of his head. “Do you — uhh,” he paused, not really wanting to offer, secretly wishing he could just plop back down onto the ground and not be bothered to talk to anyone, but something was telling him that Hunter would never let that fly.

“Do you need some help or something?”

Watching Luca was painful. Not only because it reminded her of her own grief, but because every time she looked into his eyes she saw Lola looking back at her. She remembered Lola looking at the bite, and then to her, somber realization etched in her irises. Luca was a living, breathing reminder that Hunter had let her friend die--that instead of arguing when Lola told her to just go, she just went. She could have tried to get her out of there, or to amputate her arm, or something. But instead she left her with a gun and no choice. When she’d seen the light drain from Luca’s face, wearing same somber realization that had painted his sister’s features, she knew what she’d done was unforgivable.

Really, she tried not to think about it. Maybe if she put herself in more danger, made herself more of an asset to the group, they’d forget that she was the last one to see Lola. Maybe if she helped Luca through his grief, he’d forget that she was to blame. She’d never forget, though. No amount of pretending could keep her from hating who she’d become. Then again, didn’t everyone hate themselves these days?

“I might,” Hunter answered, shrugging. The two had hardly spoken the past few days. When she’d told him the news, she couldn’t use the only words that mattered. She just kept saying Lola, and I couldn’t. It was the first time she’d cried in front of any of the group members. Since then, she’d picked herself up off the ground and haphazardly stitched herself back together. She patched herself with denial and lies. She didn’t feel as sad because she was too busy pretending as though nothing had happened, and it was clear in her voice that she was overcompensating. “I mean, we don’t really have any kindling, and this area seems safe enough for a fire. There are some woods a ways out if you wanna join me.”

[wilsonhunter-blog]

masengarcia‌:

Masen found himself adrift in that honey-colored stare of hers; Hunter’s eyes told the truths her lips were too frightened to say. He had decided back before she even showed up at her tent that her eyes were what set her apart from the others. They told stories, kept promises. It was the easiest thing to look into those eyes and ask her a question, because he could tell if she was lying in an instant.

Of course, he wouldn’t have ever let her know that. In a whatever-you’d-like-to-call-it like Hunter and Masen’s, one was always trying to have the upper hand. One was always trying to be one step ahead of the other, and usually, that person was Hunter. So, he had to take whatever resources he could find.

But she was so close, and so familiar, that she could’ve told him everything was right again, and he would have believed her.

“Probably,” he carried on.

The silence that transpired between them was enough to send Hunter running, but she stayed instead. She didn’t know why--silence was never healthy for her. It gave her time to think, and as he looked into her eyes she thought about what he must be seeing. Maybe he saw through her confident facade, maybe he looked into her past and wondered why she couldn’t just grieve like a normal person. She tried to keep herself from thinking in circles, tried to focus on what she could decipher from his eyes, but it was no use.

She was relieved when he finally opened his mouth to speak, relieved to have the silence broken. But then it was just a word. Probably. What was that? What kind of distraction was that? Clearly she’d expected too much from Masen. If she wanted to occupy her mind, clearly she had to look elsewhere. So she stood on her tiptoes, placed a chaste kiss to his lips, and turned on her heels.

“See you tonight,” she said as she walked away. It felt like more of a warning than an invitation, but he probably didn’t see it that way. He was decent, and he tolerated her, and he would continue to tolerate her. As she exited the room, she shot one last glance in his direction. There were worse coping mechanisms, she supposed.

FIN. 

[wilsonhunter-blog]

jacqueline-griffin‌:

Jack let herself chuckle at the joke. No one got this far past the end of the world without a will to live, and yet she found herself slightly agreeing with the woman  moving to the other side of the tent. Pressing on like this was exhausting, even more so without her sister. And yet, she continued on. Her brother could be out there, or someone else worth saving. 

It took her a few moments to find another rock, but when she did, she settled at the opposite corner of the tent. “God, that’s what I really miss. I just want a car to work on again,” she said with a laugh, her cheery smile back. “Maybe we’ll find something helpful soon. Perhaps a van to lug everyone around in?” That was the dream, wasn’t it? Though with every day that went by, it was getting less and less likely. 

“A chainsaw would get a bit messy, wouldn’t it?” Jack said, wrinkling her nose. With only a kitchen knife and a gun with only a few bullets as her protection, she figured she wasn’t one to talk about anyone’s weapon choices. What she was interested in was tools, and if they could also be used as weapons, even better. “I dunno if it would be at a hardware store, but I’d love a crossbow,” she said, her eyes lighting up a bit at the idea. “We’ll probably go to the hospital next, though,” she said with a shrug. Honestly, she was surprised they had ended up at the hardware store, however much she had wanted it to be the case.

Hunter got to thinking again when Jack mentioned the van. With everyone in their group, they’d need a goddamn school bus. Or they could always tie Ethan to the roof. Both options were a bit unlikely, and Hunter had no clue how they’d find a workaround. It was nice that Jack had a goal, though--something to look forward to. Hunter’s only goal was to find Hayden, and the only thing she could do to work toward it was survive until they made it to Vegas. That kind of goal didn’t exactly occupy her mind in the best ways.

“Honestly, I just like efficient weapons,” Hunter moved to the next tent stake. “Things you don’t need a lot of accuracy for. The messier the better, I guess. But if you want a crossbow, we’ll find you a crossbow. Micah could probably teach you how to use one.”

After the tent was finally up, Hunter decided it was one of the sloppiest tents she’d ever mounted. She also decided she didn’t really care. Standing and wiping her hands on her pants, she focused on the hardware store in the distance with a smile playing on her lips. “Can we go yet? You ready?”

[wilsonhunter-blog]

blairtownscnd‌:

“But… That thing I need to do…” Blair pouted, her words trailing off and dying on her tongue. There was no use trying to escape. She had to wonder if Hunter would actually throw something at the back of her head if she tried to run, but the risk was too high. She totally would. The younger girl sighed and stepped forward, entering the medical tent and grimacing. “I hate it in here. Are you sure it’s sanitary?”

Blair would be surprised to learn that she was more of a night owl than the woman in front of her, but Hunter was always… doing stuff. Like, all the time. She found it strange, how someone could actually care that much about helping others. Didn’t she ever want to be alone, to sleep through an entire day and damn the consequences? Being that good of a person had to be a disease in its own right.

She got to work, helping to reorganize the items with slow hands and lazy movements. Blair wanted to get this over with quickly, but that would mean putting forth an effort and breaking a sweat. “Nah, I’m not hurt.” Hunter really wasn’t that bad, and being in her company wasn’t the worst thing. It was kinda nice, having someone who refused to let her isolate herself. Someone who would call her out on her behavior. “And Will’s cool, I guess. I don’t know. But she’s an awful thief.”

Hunter rolled up her sleeves, grabbing her water canteen that she was fully prepared to throw at the back of Blair’s head if she tried to leave. When she instead walked closer, Hunter took a sip and set it down. The blonde could be a handful sometimes, but she was worth it. It felt good to have someone to look over, someone to keep straight. It reminded her of--well, old times. Even if she could never admit it, she was glad for the sense of normalcy that Blair gave her.

“Of course it’s not sanitary,” Hunter huffed. The conditions in which she operated were not ideal, but she knew she couldn’t expect better than what she had. The few wipes that came in the med kit and the lighter for sterilizing would have to do. She grabbed one of the indvidually packaged sanitary wipes from her small collection and tossed it to Blair. “But that’s why it’s so good that you stopped by. I had to give Teddy some stitches earlier, so my needle could use a clean. Other than that, if you want to organize...well, my shit’s kinda all over the place.”

Sitting next to her things, Hunter patted the spot on the ground next to her. “Did Will try taking something from you, or something?” She went back to Blair’s snippet of story as though she hadn’t just given her instructions she knew she’d despise. 

[wilsonhunter-blog]

micahhan‌:

   There was an inherent, potential danger in every unknown the group encountered, but Micah thought he could definitively say that there wasn’t an infected scratching its bloody nails at the floorboards. “Maybe a squirrel got itself stuck under there,” he said, relaxing a little and making his way carefully over to the spot he’d heard the noise. There was a faint animalistic squeaking, though that didn’t really narrow it down. Micah’s experience with animals was limited at best.

   Nala, who had come inside with Hunter, started sniffing at the seams of the wood paneling, her nose twitching as the squeaking continued. Micah pressed a hand to the dark, aging wood and found that there was a slight give underneath his palm. “Do we have a crowbar?” he asked, looking back at Hunter over his shoulder.

   The camp was already well underway and those hours between setting it up and eating dinner together were usually filled with boredom for Micah. He wasn’t especially handy and sometimes felt like he was just getting in everyone’s way, so mostly he stood back and waited for somebody to need help. Prying a floorboard up for Nala seemed as effective a waste of time as anything else.

Hunter was thankful for a disturbance that couldn’t kill her, and for Micah’s distraction. The two of them had always gotten along--in fact, if Hunter was choosing favorites, Micah would be somewhere at the top of the list. So she was happy to help with a tedious task. Prying the floorboard up, however, seemed a bit too tedious. Hunter had survived for five years by being efficient. Perhaps not the most stealthy or subtle, but efficient.

“Stand back,” Hunter removed the axe from her back and shoo’d the cat out of the way before bringing it down into the rotting wood. The panel practically withered away under the pressure, leaving slivers of wood everywhere. Beneath the flooring, there was no animal to be seen, and the skittering seemed far away now. Perhaps this wasn’t the best approach for trying to catch a living, breathing thing that could be scared off by loud noises.

“Hm,” Hunter crouched to remove some of the wood from the crevice. “Maybe Nala can slip under and catch it.”

[wilsonhunter-blog]

gemackerman‌:

From her crouch next to the infected she had just killed, Gemma observed as Hunter took down the other one, expression neutral aside from a subtle frown that furrowed her eyebrows. There was no doubt that Hunter was equally unskilled; the similarities between both of their attacks proved it. However, that was where the similarities ended because while Gemma was simply relenting to the situation she had been forced into, Hunter was deliberately putting herself face to face with the monsters. It made no sense to her.

Gemma stifled a sigh at Hunter’s response; not really frustrated by the vague answer as she hadn’t been expecting honesty in the first place but simply perplexed that Hunter couldn’t provide a reason. Did her response imply that she didn’t have one? Was this nothing more than an impulse-driven endeavor to her? If that were the case, then she was nothing more than a fool who would get herself killed way before she could be ‘of service to her group’. “Might wanna decide which one of these is your justification if you want to keep fighting,” Gemma responded, rising from her couch after wiping her knife on the tattered shirt of the fallen infected.

She gestured idly gestured at Hunter’s chest with her knife; her eyes equating it in their sharpness as they remained fixed on her companion. “Because you’re already getting tired and you’ve only taken one of them down. Soon, you’ll get overwhelmed and when you get overwhelmed – which is bound to happen when you’re fighting them on your own – your reason is the only thing that will keep you going,” Gemma wasn’t sure why she was telling Hunter this but for some reason, it bothered her to see her recklessness reflected in the actions of a survivor who actually had worth amidst the aimless survival. Hunter had a purpose, both within the group and outside it; her presence and skill would be a decisive factor in countless situations. A cord that tethered people to this world when their own will and health were respectively expended. How could she indulge in recklessness for superficial reasons like boredom or obligation when she was meant for way more than that? “And you have to keep going, Hunter.”

Hunter scoffed almost immediately after the lecture was over with. Gemma had never been the most inspirational person, and Hunter had never been easy to convince of anything. Hayden was the only person allowed to give her life advice, and he wasn’t here. So all of Gemma’s words fell short. After all, what did she really know about Hunter? What did she know of her motivations, of her strength? What made her think she knew what was best for her--for anyone? Hunter used the rest of her reserved strength to bury her axe in the ground, leaning on the handle as she turned to Gemma.

“Look, I know you mean well or whatever, but you don’t know a single thing about my reason,” Hunter’s knuckles turned white around the handle of the axe. She wasn’t mad at Gemma, really. She was mad that she’d been pegged as incapable by anyone. She was mad that every time she tried to prove herself, her motives were questioned. She was mad that every time she put herself on the line, someone tried to get her to step down. All she wanted was to be needed--not just for one thing, but for everything. “I’ve got this shit, okay? I’m fucking strong, I’m fucking capable. Killing those things is nothing. If I was breathing a little heavily, it’s because maybe I need a better weapon--but I can still make do with this. Because that’s what I do. I make do. We’ve all survived for five fucking years, alright? I think we all have enough of a goddamn reason at this point.”

Turning away, Hunter swallowed the knot in her throat and centered herself before wedging the axe from the ground. She kicked at the handle and swung it upward, taking more effort than she would have liked to. God, why did she have to slam her axe into the ground? She wished she had less of a flare for the dramatic. Propping the weapon onto her shoulder once more, Hunter focused on the horizon. “Just let me help you. You shouldn’t have to question shit like that.”

[wilsonhunter-blog]

jacqueline-griffin‌:

“I’m…I’m not…” Jack started, her words trailing off. She didn’t think she was any better than the others in the group, than anyone that was in the hardware store right now. “I’m just the same as you guys. Probably less important, because there’s no cars around,” she said with a bit of a chuckle. “At least you can do something useful.”

Her hands found the frame of the tent and started slowly popping the pieces together, a slow and almost therapeutic movement. Maybe it wasn’t so bad to take a backseat from the action. After all, they had no idea what could be inside the store. There could be creatures lurking around every corner, or it could be perfectly safe and empty. Though, was anything really safe at the end of the world? 

Her thoughts were pushed away by the next question, which pulled Jack’s eyes back towards Hunter. “Oh, I don’t know. I guess more tools would be useful, for me at least. It’s always nice if there’s food, but who knows what they would have at a hardware store,” she said with a bit of a shrug. “What do you want to be in there?” She remembers, just moments ago, when Hunter was grumbling about searching the hardware store first. Maybe she had some hope, though, that there could be something inside.

Though she was tempted to argue, Hunter kept her mouth shut. Jack’s words were ridiculous, but she’d let her be humble this time. She busied herself with the tent, wondering how someone could manage to stay so good after spending five years in hell. She was almost envious. Jack kept to herself, pulled her own weight, and was always mostly pleasant to be around. Hunter couldn’t imagine causing that little trouble--or being that modest about it.

“I dunno, a will to live?” Breath escaped her nose to create something that resembled a laugh. Truth be told, Hunter hadn’t thought of what they might find in the hardware store. It was nice to have someone to keep her thinking through a menial task, but she was really only focused on what she could find at the hospital: all the pills she could carry, a full med kit, a stethoscope just for fashion’s sake. She took a moment to think of an actual answer as she searched around the campsite for a rock. This place was really Jack’s wheelhouse, so she supposed whatever Jack wanted was also what she wanted.

“I guess I’d like to find anything you could make use of. You know, none of it will be helpful to me personally, but... Well, imagine if we found shit you could use to fix a car. I’ve really missed kicking my feet up on the dash,” Hunter actually managed a genuine smile, because nothing sounded better than a vehicle at this point. She settled down in front of the tent and started pounding the first tent stake into the ground with the rock she found before adding, “also maybe a chainsaw.”

[wilsonhunter-blog]

masengarcia‌:

He saw it in her, quick as that: hesitation. It washed over her so suddenly and so often that it almost felt like the standard, like Masen should have expected nothing less. He’d gone through several explanations of it: maybe she was just private, maybe she was embarrassed of him, maybe he wasn’t good enough for her— Most of the thoughts had to do with the things he could have been doing wrong, but the most logical explanation, which also happened to be something on her part, was that she was just afraid.

Afraid of caring, afraid of intimacy, vulnerability. In a world like this one, Masen could respect that. He could understand the isolation; being alone was always worse when it was due to loss. If she didn’t have anyone to lose, well…

She glanced at the area she’d bitten him, eyes glistening with mischief now, where before there had been doubt. She was a resilient creature, he’d give her that.

“I have a pretty good idea of who my first victim will be, too,” he joked, stopping himself from taking a step toward her.

"Go right on ahead,” Hunter took a step forward, angling her head to the side and holding her curls back so her neck was on display. Rethinking, she stood straight and pressed a hand to Masen’s chest. Her demeanor had the tendency to change at the drop of a hat, especially around him. “Wait--is it insensitive to sexualize the undead?”

She searched for an answer in his eyes, allowing herself to stay dangerously close to him. Sometimes, she wondered who he was before his life was destroyed, before survival became the only necessary thing. She’d never asked him about any of that, though; she’d never taken the time to know who was behind those brown eyes. Looking into them now, she couldn’t even make a guess at his ambitions, how he used to spend his time, who he used to love the most. She felt a pang of guilt in her chest.

“Are we going to Hell, or what?”

[bunchofrpmemes]

Character Flaws

[wilsonhunter-blog]

isvbellas‌:

bunchofrpmemes:

Bold the ones that apply to your character:

absent-minded | abusive | addict | aggressive | aimless | alcoholic | anxious | arrogant | audacious | bad liar | bigmouth | bigot | blindly obedient | blunt | callous | childish | chronic heroism | clingy | clumsy | cocky | competitive | corrupt | cowardly | cruel | cynical | delinquent | delusional | dependent | depressed | deranged | disloyal | ditzy | egotistical | envious | erratic | fickle | finicky | flaky | frail | fraudulent | guilt complex | gloomy | gluttonous | gossiper | gruff | gullible | hedonistic | humorless | hypochondriac | hypocritical | idealist | idiotic | ignorant | immature | impatient | incompetent | indecisive | insecure | insensitive | lazy | lewd | liar | lustful | manipulative | masochistic | meddlesome | melodramatic | money-loving | moody | naive | nervous | nosy | ornery |  overprotective | overly sensitive | paranoid | passive-aggressive | perfectionist | pessimist | petty | power-hungry | proud | pushover | reckless | reclusive | remorseless | rigorous | sadistic | sarcastic | senile | selfish | self-martyr | shallow | sociopathic | sore loser | spineless | spiteful | spoiled | stubborn | tactless | temperamental | timid | tone-deaf | traitorous | unathletic | ungracious | unlucky | unsophisticated | untrustworthy | vain | withdrawn | workaholic

[wilsonhunter-blog]

jacqueline-griffin‌:

Jack felt a little more at ease when she saw her companion’s face light up, the suggestion seeming to be all she needed to focus on the relatively small task at hand. It was pretty shitty they got stuck with such a boring job, but they could make the best of it. “I might need some help, yeah,” she said softly, grabbing one of the few tents that had been haphazardly stacked near them. 

Honestly, she should be better at pitching a tent by now, but she never saw any harm in asking for help. Starting to unpack the bits and pieces, she glanced over at the other girl. “Why did we get stuck doing this, again?” A simple question, still spoken with a hint of a smile on her face. 

Hunter had been hoping Jack would refuse her help, but if she minded too much she wouldn’t have offered. Frankly, she was just tired of setting up tents, but she shrugged off the distaste and stood after jotting down a few more words. “So our safety’s ensured--as much as it can be,” Hunter toed at the tent before bending over to grab it. “Because I’m the medic and you’re...too good to die.”

As she started to spread out the tent on flat ground, she wondered if there was any truth in what she just said. No one had ever explicitly suggested that Hunter get the easiest jobs so she could be available to heal others, and it wasn’t like Hunter never took the front lines. Usually, it was just luck--or unluck--of the draw that landed her away from the action. Maybe she wasn’t that special. Maybe she just wanted to believe that people deemed her worthy of protection. It didn’t really matter in the end; most people met the same fate.

“What’re you hoping we find in there? Like, if there could be anything.”

[wilsonhunter-blog]

micahhan‌:

date: August 2023 time: late afternoon location: front of the hardware store status: open to @wilsonhunter

   The jittering, anxious feeling that ran through Micah like a current of electricity was starting to build steadily as the sun continued to set with no sign of a single infected. It would get worse when the stars came out and the darkness settled in. If the demons were smart, they’d wait until most of them were asleep to strike. He stared out one of the front windows of the shop, watching Jack’s cat, Nala curl up in one of the last remaining patches of sunlight. Her eyes closed but her ears remained perked and at attention. Micah supposed her kind was better suited to this planet now.

   He’d stood still long enough that when a quiet, skittering noise broke the silence, his breathing stopped. It was coming from behind him, but as he slowly turned, he couldn’t see any movement to attribute the noise to.

   Before Micah could think to investigate, the door opened and Hunter entered the shop. He held out a hand to her, indicating for her to stay still and be quiet. But the skittering had stopped. “I heard something,” he said, brows furrowed. “I think it was coming from the underneath the store.”

Because people had been roaming through the store for a while and a scene had yet to be caused, Hunter assumed the coast was clear. This was helpful because, well, she wasn’t among the most careful members of the group. She entered the store with heavy footsteps and a complete lack of awareness for her surroundings, so when Micah motioned for her to stop she assumed the worst.

Hunter hardly breathed as she waited for him to explain himself, hand going to her ax. “You think an infected got underneath the store?” Her eyebrows knit themselves together as she thought for a moment, allowing the store to fall back to silence.

The skittering was so quiet it almost didn’t register, but Hunter noticed Nala’s head lift in response to the noise and knew it wasn’t in her head. “Oh, okay,” she spoke softly, her arm falling slack at her side. “Not an infected. What the fuck?”

[wilsonhunter-blog]

ethanmillers‌:

Ethan rolled his eye at her sarcasm, hands digging further into his pockets. Why did he even bother to say anything? It never changed how she acted, and it never seemed to change how the others felt about her. He’d been keeping a close eye on her, more than the others in the group. Every time she cleaned a wound or addressed some bandages, the others trusted her more and more. He knew his own distrust wasn’t misplaced, not after the way she’d left him. Not after what she’d taken. Not after she acted so nonchalant about taking it in the first place. 

“Forgiveness?” he laughed bitterly. Every logical part of him told him to walk away, and if it were anyone else in front of him, he might have. When it came to Hunter, his emotions controlled him. His anger and his frustration, not over the food or water she’d taken, but all over the piece of metal in his pocket that reminded him of the person he’d loved most in the world before, let his emotions control him. “You should’ve thought about that before you and your… brother, was it? Stole all of my shit and left me for dead.” 

Her brother. Ethan remembered him, as he remembered all of the people he’d traveled with for the past five years. The two of them had been close. If he wasn’t here with them anymore, that could only mean one thing had happened to him. Ethan didn’t have to ask to figure that one out. With a sinking feeling, he thought he might regret bringing him up. Before he could retract, though, he kept going. 

“A year. Right. So, I’m supposed to believe that you’re not going to do the exact same thing again because you’ve taken the time to change,” he shook his head, staring her down. “I don’t believe it. People don’t change anymore,” he hesitated, thinking on the person he was five years ago. He had changed, but… “Not for the better.” 

For six months, Hayden had been an unspoken variable in the tension between Hunter and Ethan. Half the reason Hunter tiptoed around him was because he was the only one who knew that she had a brother, that her soul was halved. When he brought up their past, he never mentioned Hayden, and she’d hoped he’d forgotten that it wasn’t just her who took his things. That hope was too good to be true.

The second he mentioned him her heart fell through the floor. It was bad enough having to live knowing she drove him away; she didn’t want anyone else knowing it too. Even worse, she knew he was only bringing him up now because he knew it would get to her. And it did. Her jaw clenched, her fists shook--she didn’t know where else to put her feelings. When he continued to talk, his voice grated her ears. How dare he act like he know her, like he had all the information he needed, like her brother was just a weakness to exploit.

“Sorry I took the shitty knife your dead lover gave you,” Hunter took a step forward, crossing her arms over her chest as though to shield her heart. She knew she was doing very little to prove him wrong, but at this point she didn’t give a shit. Maybe she hadn’t changed. Maybe she was much, much worse without her brother. “Sorry because it was only good for opening the soup cans I took with it. Hope that little engraving numbs the pain of knowing you’ll never see them again.”

[wilsonhunter-blog]

gemackerman‌:

Gemma raised an eyebrow, watching as Hunter pulled out her ax. The woman seemed subtly eager to fight the infected alongside her and it intrigued Gemma considering she always went above and beyond in her attempts to avoid interaction with the creatures. The group always prioritized isolating Hunter from any danger due to her important position so maybe she was itching for some activity. That seemed like a logical reasoning behind her unexpected arrival. It still perplexed her, though—what was the point if it involved risking her life? It didn’t matter if it was one biter or a hundred; the risk was always the same. All it took was for one of them to get too close and that would be it regardless of how many you were facing or how skilled you were.

It didn’t seem worth it for the mere prospect of releasing pent-up frustration or whatever Hunter intended to gain from it. Gemma turned back to the approaching infected, moving to face the one on the right in silent agreement to Hunter’s proposal. Taking a deep breath, she remained standing until she came face to face with the creature before swiftly veering to the side and kicking it in the knee. As soon as the mangled corpse hit the ground, Gemma stabbed it, careful to avoid the splatter of blood this time as she struggled to pull out her knife again.

“Can’t really see what you’re getting out of this, Hunter,” Gemma proclaimed, her curiosity overshadowing her detachment. She wiped sweat off her brow then stood up to face the medic while maintaining her peripheral attention on the straggling infected. “I’d take setting up camp over facing these rotten assholes any day.”

Hunter had expected at least a word of opposition from the woman next to her, but was pleased when Gemma played along and went for the runner on the right. These days, she wasn’t listened to as much as she’d like to be, so Gemma following a simple order had made the trip to the perimeter worth it. Following her lead, Hunter hefted her ax over her shoulder and then swung it like a bat, burying the blade straight into its forehead. She’d gotten decent with the ax, knowing well enough to aim carefully and use a lot of force, but she still found it difficult to wedge the thing out of skulls. 

With the creature dead and slumping toward the ground, Hunter stumbled for a moment before planting her foot on it’s shoulder and pushing it back to release her ax. A spray of blood landed on her black jeans, and she was shamefully numb to it. She’d distanced herself so much from the world she once knew that she no longer saw the infected as people, and she no longer felt guilty for killing things that once had dynamic lives and plenty of loved ones. She couldn’t be sure if that was a good or a bad thing, but she tried not to think about it.

“What, wanting to help you isn’t enough motivation?” Hunter tried to hide the fact that she was already panting slightly; she wasn’t as athletic as she used to be. “Maybe I just want to be of service to my group. Or maybe I was bored.”

[wilsonhunter-blog]

date: august 2023 location: camp outside the hardware store availability: closed to @lucapalermos

As the afternoon sun dimmed and introduced the evening, Hunter returned to camp with nothing to show for her hard work except for the beads of sweat on her forehead. She’d been busying herself in every way possible: first by setting up camp and taking inventory, then by guarding the perimeter, then by searching for something useful, and finally hefting a load of plywood off a door in hopes of finding treasure. Nothing came of it, but Hunter was pleased with the amount of work she’d accomplished.

The first face she saw as she settled into a spot on the ground was Luca’s. He’d been there the last time she left the camp, in the exact same spot, and the sight angered her to the point of her fist shaking. He was supposed to be useful at locations such as these, light on his feet and quick to scout a place. Hunter was disappointed, and she knew it was her own fault for expecting anything of him. After a moment, her fists fell loose at her side. She took a deep breath, trying to be more understanding.

She sympathized with him--really, she did. He’d lost his sister so recently, and she’d felt those same wounds. She knew how paralyzing they were when they were fresh. But when she’d lost--when her brother had--when she was first alone, giving herself excuses would’ve gotten her killed. She didn’t want Luca to dig his own grave so willingly. So she held him to higher standards than she otherwise would have, just to keep him alert. Or, more accurately, to keep him distracted. It was the only thing she could think to do.

“Heads up, Palermo!” Hunter warned him a moment before chucking a rock in his direction, aimed at his abdomen. It looked like an attack, but she’d call it a friendly test.

[wilsonhunter-blog]

blairtownscnd:

date: august 2023 location: campsite/outside (hardware store) availability: closed for @wilsonhunter​

As the sky began to darken and the evening gave way to night, Blair wandered through the camp. She found it calming, how she was able to see her companions in such a relaxed setting. They would talk and laugh and go about their duties as if there was no possibility of an infected lurking just out of sight — or maybe they were simply defying that fear, smiling in spite of it. Maybe they were braver than she was.

She soon stopped in her tracks, realizing where she was. Not only was the medical tent way too gloomy for her tastes, full of sharp things and potential diseases, but the woman in charge often put her to work. For no reward. She’d force Blair to clean utensils and wipe away stains and stock the shelves — and what was the point? To become a better, more helpful person? She wasn’t interested in that. The girl was a lost cause.

“Oh,” she started, scratching at her arm and adverting her gaze. “What’s up, Hunter?” Of course she was there. She always had to be doing something. Blair had to wonder if she ever slept. “What about me? Funny you should ask! I’m… Uh…” She looked around, noticing Masen and trying to get his attention. He only waved at her and walked off. “Well, I’m doing a thing. Right now. I’m so busy.” She grinned, backing away.

“Gotta go!”

The second it was late enough to make out constellations, Hunter was tempted to go to sleep. She’d been early to bed, early to rise since high school, and unless she was needed for watch or particularly insomnia-ridden she never broke this habit. She also wanted to see if she could pull Masen aside while the others were occupied enough. She sighed as she stood and began to put her supplies away, stopping when she heard footsteps.

“Can I help--” Blair kept talking, and she didn’t look injured. In fact, Hunter would have been happy to let her go if she didn’t keep stumbling over her words and looking for an escape. A smile found its way to her lips. Perhaps sleep could wait. There was something so endearing about Blair, something familiar, something that really made Hunter want to push her.

“Blair!” She called, quickly unpacking her med kit again. “I could use some help reorganizing. And you can tell me how things went working with Will. You’re not hurt at all, are you?”

[wilsonhunter-blog]

teddyainsworth:

date: august 2023 location: crew’s camp near hardware store time: early evening availability: @wilsonhunter

If he’s being honest, he knows the cut on his right shoulder needs looking after. If he’s being honest, he knows he’d force anyone else with that size cut to go straight for a med kit. If he’s being honest, he knows better.

He’s not being honest.

Instead he’s cleaning his gun, taking it apart piece by piece and using the thin button down he normally wears over his t-shirt to clean each of the parts. Firearm maintenance is no joke, Theodore. He can still hear his father’s voice ringing around in the back of his head. Take proper care of your guns.

The last thing he needed was buildup in the barrel to make the damned thing explode.

He only barely sees her coming, catching sight of her from the very corner of his right eye. He knows without her ever opening her mouth exactly what she’s come to his side for.

“I’m fine, Wilson,” he says, slowly lifting his gaze from the rifle pieces in his hands. “I don’t know what Gemma told you, but it’s nothin’.”

To say she hoped for injury and illness would be cruel and mostly inaccurate. But she did look forward to being useful, and those things did give her the best opportunity to be just that. Perhaps it was better to say that she anticipated injury and illness, because in this world you had to. That wasn’t cruel; it was just realistic.

So when she noticed a fresh, unfamiliar blood stain on Teddy’s shirt, she was thankful for the opportunity to take care of someone. The wound itself was unfortunate, but it wasn’t unexpected. She grabbed her things and headed directly for Teddy.

“The last thing we need is an infected wound, Ainsworth,” she said. She almost added that she didn’t want to see him in pain, but swallowed her words. They were true, but they had the chance of stinging. She set a hand on his arm instead. “Could I please just take a look? If it doesn’t need the attention, I’ll spare the supplies. Or you can just find me another med kit when we get to the hospital--whatever makes you feel better.”