godshood​:

                    boy     half     destroyed          ,          fists     swollen     and     smelling     of     spent     gun     powder          .          he     thinks     he     has     known     peace     once          :          was     it     somewhere     in     the     trees     with     cardinal     birdsong     to     drown     out     screams     and     begging          ?          he     was     ten     then     and     an     old     testament     god     had     promised     fury     upon     a     few          .          he     would     return     that     day     to     see     the     scaffold     still     bloody     and     something     foul          ,          something     copper     and     rancid          ,          hanging     heavy     in     the     air          .          when     did     the     birds     stop     singing     and     the     trees     rot     into     the     ground          ?          when     did     his     skin     begin     to     bleed     and     bleed     and     his     stare     become     cold          ?          when     did     his     soul     become     incorrigible          ?          palms     once     clasped     in     prayer     that     know     only     of     ruin     and     atrophy          —-          welcomes     the     ravage     and     the     sin          .

                    knows     he     is     a     corpse     decaying          /          virtues     and     personhood     deteriorating     into     something     wild          ,          unrecognizable          .          is     this     what     it     feels     like     to     slip          ?          thinks     for     a     moment     how     comforting     a     grave     would     be          :          i     hope     they     bury     me     in     the     mountains          ,          leave     me     to     collapse     among     the     rock     and     dirt          .          when     he     sees     her     face          ,          knows     sanity     has     left     him     godforsaken          .          still     …     rationale     be     damned     and     he’s     pulling     out     his     gun     to     shoot     the     hunter     atop     her     body          .          doesn’t     blink          ,          doesn’t     miss     when     the     bullet     goes     through     his     skull     and     she     is     painted     in     crimson          .          sweet          ,          honey     voiced          ,          if     this     is     a     dream     please     let     it     last     …     thumbs     tracing     the     visage     of     a     ghost          ,          lips     trembling     and     mumbling          .          ❝          mathilda     …     are     you     here          ?          am     i     slipping     away          ?          please     tell     me     you’ll     stay     …          ❞

deep know, mathilda knows he is there --- physically in front of her, made of flesh and bone and real enough that she can feel the warmth of his presence cutting through the thick winter air. the fabric of her clothing is beginning to soak with blood that did not belong to her and melting snow but the chill striking down to the bone cannot wrack her from fogging dream like thoughts. “ leo... “ she repeats in disbelief, whiskey hues scanning him over and over unable to grasp the thought that after years of heartache fueled days and even worse nights that he was not some godforsaken figment of her imagination. time passed on and gradually, she began to doubt his existence in her life --- in her mind, using the boy as some escape for something better in a heartless and cruel place. it was a punishment of her faulty mind except, she could never understand how he felt so real in all that doubt. 

“ leo, “ she repeats again, softness dripping from her words like honey. it is more gentle than mathilda remembers being, can recall feeling but it all comes back to her and it stings all the more. 

he spared her life --- saved it even but it is the last thing on mathilda’s mind. if he had been anyone else, any other person in these woods with a loaded gun and a desperation for bloodshed she would have instinctively grabbed her gun, trigger finger itching at the faint reflex but her mind remains a blank slate. leo... the only thing that she can register, the only name she can recall. the space between them is killing her, gradually causing her chest to ache with a longing buried deep within her being --- only awoken by the sight of him now. arms wrap around him tightly, the force of her body hard enough to knock them both into the dirt and snow beneath them but rationality isn’t present. she is reacting more upon reflex than thought as delicate fingers dig through his hair, holding him awaiting for the moment he’d slip through her fingers like sand and leave her all over again. but he was no ghost. he felt real, his touch almost burned her skin but relief washes over her in waves --- an unexplainable sense of fondness seeping into each impatient squeeze. “ i thought you were dead, i - i thought you were dead. you’re not --- i’m not... i don’t understand. “

NFWBMB by Hozier but from an abandoned church in the woods

mccncrane​:

bash knows it isn’t fair to be disapproving of the joke, when he’s often the one saying worse things. it’s just his usual visceral reaction to it, he can’t think of a world without her. “i know, i know,” he nodded, sending her an apologetic look. “yeah. we’re okay.”

the comment about an arrow possibly putting a damper on the morning, however, seems to tickle his funny bone. maybe it’s just the insanity of spending the entire night in battle. he’s probably dehydrated, and definitely hungry as hell, and exhausted, and maybe a few screws have gone loose in his brain because of it; if he sounds a little hysterical when he laughs at that comment, he can’t help himself. “really would be a fucking damper,” he agrees, dabbing around the wound carefully to make sure everything’s dry before he grabs the bandage to cover it. his hands are careful as ever as he makes sure the tape is adhering to her skin properly, and he lets his touch linger there as he looks back up at her with a warmer smile. “there you go. just make sure you’re not using this arm too much now, please? pretty please? must i beg you to rest, wife dearest?”

ill timed jokes were a favorite of hers, they came out without effort but anja knew it wasn’t the best time --- it wasn’t only her life in danger anymore and that was still a reality she was having a hard time dealing with. “ you know this goes two ways though, right? you and me? i’m allowed to worry about you too so i hope you’re being honest. “ it wasn’t a threat, nor did her tone hold any anger but it was serious in the only way anja knew how to be serious. 

she wants to insist he stops touching it, insist that it’s time to grab a quick meal and maybe a hot shower before crawling back into the confines of their own area and knock out as the sun begins to rise but it isn’t a reality for them. anja knows eventually they’ll have to be productive, help out the rest of the group even if her limbs ache and she can barely keep her eyes open. at least she wasn’t getting sick this morning but the nausea was not completely faded --- not yet. “ you certain it won’t fall off? “ the blonde asks cracking a small smile. “ i suppose since you said pretty please but you know that all depends on what yen wants... not always up to me. “

CLOSED FOR : @cordiiceps​ .

beau knew if they died in that airport, maybe they deserved it --- one way or another. sometimes his hands still tremble holding a gun, shake with fear and the haunting memories of his father slowly succumbing to the infected bite from a clicker. he garnered that guilt for years, holding the fear and responsibility for something that was no fault of a teenager. it was another tragedy in the world they lived in but despite all of that beau did not want to die here. not with their family back in jackson, waiting an arrival that was looking less likely or jesse --- fuck, he couldn’t leave jesse. 

there’s blood on his hands and staining his clothes and truth be told --- beau has no idea if it belongs to himself or sloane, who had put him in charge. it was a mess, quite a disaster but he was trying to keep a clear mind though that was beginning to feel like trekking through a snowstorm. adrenaline is too high to let the pain of some wounds sustained get to him, focus is set on the entrances counting them off one by one to clear them from a hidden view point. how many hours had it been? would they send a search party? surely, jesse would know something was wrong. he always did. 

with a deep exhale, beau keeps the gun trained on the main door way --- quiet among his thoughts while he waited impatiently for something to happen, anything at all. they look rough, exhaustion and stress is finally flooding over them in waves but sloane is looking far worse and that remains priority. could they get her back to jackson in time? the door creaking open snaps beau out of their thoughts, gun cocked and aimed at entrance. 

mccncrane​: 

“saying it could be worse is not a valid argument,” bash protests, though there’s a tint of humour behind his tone. he steps away from her, only so he can pick up a clean cloth and some of the liquid mixture they use to clean up wounds, whatever it is. he just knows it stings like a bitch, but it keeps anyone from getting infections. “don’t even joke about that. being dead, i mean,” he says around a sigh, his voice a bit more tired there. he’s not one to complain about risky jokes and dry humour, and they’ve had their fair share of death jokes along the years, but the stakes feel higher now. things feel different, ever since they found out about the baby.

“i’m okay,” he smiles at her, the first time his lips have managed to be anything other than a scowl all night. god, it’s already morning. and he probably has to go scout for supplies soon. he wishes he could stay in and take care of her for the rest of the day. “couple bruises, but what’s new,” he hopes to sound reassuring. his left leg hurts like a bitch and he has a cut above his ear that matted down his hair with blood a bit, but it had all been minor stuff. nothing a good wash and a bandaid won’t fix. “it’s gonna sting,” he says as a warning, before pouring the hellish liquid onto her stitched up wound, to clear out the dirt and dry blood around it.

“ it sounded like one in my head. i feel like my arguments are usually better than that. “ it wasn’t the first of those jokes nor the last but anja understands the concern --- she understands that those jokes scare her as well when they fall from his lips. the blonde white knuckles the edge of the counter, fearing that sting more than she was prepared for not that she hadn’t had worse in her years. “ you know i didn’t mean it like that. i’m okay... we’re okay. “

nodding, she still worries --- still wonders if he is being completely transparent with her. after all the time they’d spent together she still wouldn’t put it past him like she would not herself either. sometimes little white lies were what they needed to get each other through the day but bites, scratches, infection. it was always living in the back of her mind. being raised among a decaying quarantine zone had not fared well for her optimism nor had knowing he was the one person she had left to lose. her grip tightens and anja grits her teeth, hissing as the liquid made contact with the wound. “ that never gets easier but... it wasn’t an arrow. that would’ve put a real damper on the morning. “

 mccncrane​:

bash is angry. angry at the grizzlies, at this whole fight, at life for getting them in this situation. he knows anja should’ve stayed back, stayed protected in camp. by all means, he’s not about to say what a pregnant lady can or cannot do, but a literal battlefield is not exactly the ideal place for one. and it’s early, and he barely understands what all of this means, but he worries about her. always her. she’s the priority.

his fingers are careful as he stitches her up, trying to make this as quick and painless as possible. he’s gotten good at this, over the years, although the medical field was her specialty. her words cut through the fog in his brain and pull him out of his thoughts, and he hums, un-furrowing his brows with some effort. “i worry a normal amount,” he protests, his voice just as quiet. it could’ve gone worse, but it could’ve gone better, too. “hold still,” he warns, as he finishes up the stitches, thankfully done with the worst part. now he just had to clean it up and put a bandage on it. before any of that, he leans closer with a sigh and presses a careful kiss to her shoulder. “it was kind of a shitshow out there. i’m just glad you’re safe.”

it was dangerous and stupid but what choice did she have? the situation the two of them had been throne in had been confusing enough let alone knowing what to do with the over abundance of unknown information. a baby --- the timing couldn’t have been worse but anja was certain by now, she knew that it was the situation they’d been handed and she couldn’t even be upset about it. she only wished they weren’t here, almost anywhere else would’ve been better. 

she watches him stitch her up with precision, gritting her teeth with each movement of the thread. this wasn’t how she saw her day going but here they were. “ i can’t argue with you there, “ anja whispers, waiting for the moment she’s cleared to drag her jacket back up and over. there’s still no evidence of the baby, nothing more than an unnoticeable bump to most but she often feels like people know --- like they can see through her. “ it could’ve been worse. it’s not too bad. i expected it to be worse... i’m not dead at least. “ she never saw the point in all the fighting, worried for him and the baby more than herself. “ you’re okay, yeah? it’s only fair i worry about you too. “

CLOSED FOR : @mccncrane​ .

when they had abandoned the purged anja had hoped they’d end up somewhere better --- somewhere where she did not need to fear about the upcoming days let alone next few months but they’d both been mistaken again. and their options had been quite limited, she wasn’t about to ruin anything and protest so the attack had to go smoothly, she had to prey to any god that might listen for some sense of safety. if it worked, no one could tell but she had managed to walk away mostly unscathed only a knife slash to her left arm proving to be an issue. 

anja grits her teeth while he stitches her up without anesthetic. it was not the first time they’d done this, in the world they ventured out into would not be the last either. “ you worry too much, “ the blonde speaks in a hushed tone, reaching out with her free hand to brush some hair back from his face. “ it could’ve gone much worse, right? “ 

lastingslivers​:

event.

LOCATION: jackson hole airport, jackson territory TIME: 18th of february 2044 CHARACTERS: sloane schuyler & patrol

Sloane should have expected it, should’ve seen it coming a mile away. The ambush took the patrol off guard, including their leader, who cursed at herself now that she let something like this happen. Perhaps it wasn’t something she could’ve predicted, no one could’ve, but they were trained to stay completely alert. Either her focus slipped too much for a few seconds or their adversaries were just that smart. That good. That prepared. The arrows rained from nearly every direction and while Sloane was scrambling with the others, one of the said arrows hit her. A shoulder injury. Not completely life-threatening compared to other spots it could’ve hit, but when taking into account that they were far from town and real medical help, then it could be considered critical.

But she’d rather it be her than any of her patrollers. She would hate for someone she was responsible for to get wounded instead. 

“Damn it,” Sloane hissed under her breath, her bleeding and aching shoulder being tended to by the others. Or it was trying to be. None of them were actually medically qualified, despite perhaps knowing the basics of what to do in situations like this. So, there was only so much they could do for the time being. Until 22:00, when those at Jackson realized they were late for their arrival. For now, they were held up in the airport, which had been the closest safe haven. Someone announced the current time out loud. 20:05.

Half of the arrow’s shaft had been broken off, but part was still there, obviously including the arrow head stuck in her right shoulder. When someone reached for that part of the shaft, she grabbed their wrist with her left hand. “Don’t,” she warned in a strained voice, gritting her teeth as she tried to suck up the pain. “Don’t pull it… out. It’ll make the… bleeding worse–” She would’ve said more but stopped herself. Groaning lowly, she laid her head back down and just tried to focus on breathing as evenly as she could.

And her shirt was soaked with blood in that area, red dripping onto the cold floor below them. Options ran through her mind. If the arrow head stayed in her, she could end up dying. If they took it out, she could end up dying from blood loss. Neither option seemed fine. She wondered if they perhaps needed to cauterize the wound instead. Either way, things were looking far from good.

There was only one thought on his mind, Jesse was going to lose his shit --- Beau supposed that would be even more true if he dies in this fucking radio tower accompanied by Sloane and Archie. Caution was drilled into them prior to every single patrol but they’d been prepared for hoards of frost bitten clickers and runners not a slew of arrows piercing the windows with too much precision to be an accident. 

Held up, attempting to steer clear from a viewable point Beau had never been more thankful that their hands no longer shook while holding a rifle. Gunshots never ceased to send a chill down his spine but there was no possibility for better memories if he was dead buried six feet under. Adrenaline was running too fast to recognize his own injuries, instead panic is settling in looking to Sloane for guidance but instead finds an arrow broken off in her shoulder. Beau jolts when she grasps his wrist, whiskey hues settling on her with concern and words seem to be escaping him in that moment. “ Sloane, no offense but I’m not much of a medic. “ Beau laughs, pulling back and shifts quickly to find a knife in one of his jacket pockets. 

“ If you need me to do something... I need you to tell me because I have no fucking clue what I’m doing here. “ Basic first aid, that’s all Beau knew and he tears the fabric from one of his many layers knowing he could survive without it.  Bandages... Pressure... That’s all things that were used for a wound, weren’t they? But ones with an arrow was a different question. “ They’ll.... They’ll come looking for us, I know they will. “ Just how soon was the question, and if they could survive was another none of them wanted to think about. It was an ambush and who could tell how many of them had been waiting like a predator stalking prey? “ And if not... Well it’s a long run back to Jackson. “

endurcsurvive​:

LOCATION: Mall rooftop TIME: Late afternoon CHARACTER: Will Croft + OPEN

“Think it’s gonna snow overnight?” Will asked nobody in particular. Whether his question got caught on the wind and swiftly drifted away or whether somebody actually responded to him with some semblance of wisdom, it didn’t really matter either way. He was simply thinking aloud. “Hot cocoa weather, right?” he mused with a chuckle as the cool breeze caught a flash of bare skin on the back of his neck, between the collar of his jacket and his hairline. Though hot cocoa was mostly a thing of the past or a rare, celebration worthy treat at best, he still thought hot cocoa weather still very much existed. 

Valerie is fooling with her gun, reloading the rifle and contemplating how she ended up here --- on a rooftop in the winter scouting? What were they supposed to be doing? The purpose had left her mind and it was slowly turning into what was inside the mall abandoned after outbreak. “ Guessing the weather isn’t exactly my thing? “ She states, gloved hands pulling back and knowing she did it right when the gun clicked. Maybe she was paranoid but who wouldn’t be? “ I don’t know if I’ve ever had it but I’m not terribly fond of the upcoming months... All the infected melt out. “

CLOSED FOR : @godshood​

she hates her fucking life --- her miserable, agonizing life. sometimes mathilda thinks she was born to be punished, like it had been some sick will of god but years of hyper religious trauma would do that to a person. it had been filled with nothing but searing pain; and even now she is acutely aware that none of this made sense for her. ending up with a pack of hunters in wyoming, it had been nothing more than refuge for the life that had once tormented her but she mourned more than anything under the sun. 

one second her mind is fogged, two strong hands around her throat pressing down hard --- she’s too young to be romanticizing the end but it feels like she’s on death’s door. her vision grows spotty and she’s kicking a person, not an infected, in the knees to no avail until it all halts. a gunshot rings in her ears and hot, warm blood splatters across her face. it takes her a moment to realize she is not dead, not yet --- and it is not her blood. shoving the body off her own mathilda loudly gasps for air, letting the oxygen fill her longs again and attempts to let her blurry vision focus on her savior. not another hunter --- no, but the last thing she expects. “....leo? “ mathilda chokes out, mind flooding with thoughts that are running far too fast to process him. maybe she is dead or this is another sick twist of god’s wrath to man.

LOCATION : in the woods north of jackson

STATUS : open

the bowstring is pulled taught and ellie exhales slowly, steading her aim at the doe strolling across the hardened earth chewing away at the grass. it wasn’t her job in jackson to hunt but old habits die hard and it wouldn’t harm anyone ( but the deer ) if she hauled it back to jackson on the back of her horse. with the woods mostly clear, other than a dead runner, she was pretty confident that her tracking would have paid off --- that was until a small snap of a branch sends the creature running off and ellie turning around on her heel, arrow pointed towards her company. “ can i fucking help you? “

Hélène Cixous, Hyperdream (tr. Beverly Bie Brahic) 

Byzantium (2012) dir. Neil Jordan

(✿◠‿◠)