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Post by Thyra Henriksen on Mar 11, 2013 13:03:52 GMT -8
Thyra had stayed at the tower colony of the Master Chef Swampman last night, fully expecting to wake up in the middle of the night to explore the compound. But she found that this did not happen, as she found herself in an almost coma-like sleep on Dmitry's mattress, in complete silence. The night had passed, and morning had come, and still she slept. She slept until noon, which was a feat for her since the apocalypse. The mattress had been a rare gift in these troubled times. And so she woke, stretching and yawning, staring around the water tower for any sign of the Russian. When she did not see him inside, she stood, stretched to limber up her muscles, and ventured outside to look for him. When she found him, she found it easy to convince the vigilant leader to go on a run with her for supplies. She had already decided that in order to be accepted into what she thought was a wonderful research opportunity she would have to contribute, and she would do so by getting medical equipment.
They had made their way to the Kaiser Foundation Hospital, where the chaos she had been expecting was nowhere to be seen. The hospital was certainly not in great shape, areas burned out, and the building smashed to pieces in others. But she had been expecting it to be swarming with zombies, and that all regular entrances would be inaccessible. They weren't, and with a smile she turned to Dmitry. "Looks like this will be easier than we thought,"[/color] she said, peering in through the front doors to a hallway covered in bodies.
When she stepped onto a puddle of blood upon entering she nearly slipped, but found her balance and put her hand on the hilt of her sword. "Did you sleep well?"[/color] she asked, making a bit of smalltalk that she had neglected to do when she first spoke to him in the morning. She was truly worried about whether or not he had slept alright, since he had graciously given her his bed.
Corners going in opposite directions were at the end of the hallway which they had reached, and so she flattened herself against a wall and peered around one corner, then the other, trusting Dmitry to be equally cautious. With no one in sight, she took in the signs on the wall; one pointed in the direction of surgery, the ICU, and the recovery ward, another pointed in the direction of the pharmacy, emergency rooms, patient rooms, and gift shop. "Did you know that the green cross we associate with medicine comes from the Order of Saint Lazarus, which was established in 1098, by lepers, who were also knights?"[/color] she said in a low voice that clearly pointed out that she thought this to be interesting fact. "And speaking of leprosy, it was the first disease conclusively shown to be caused by bacteria.."
She would not have been speaking so casually did she realize that just around the corner to the pharmacy were raiders with guns standing ready to get whatever they wanted off them.[/sub]
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Post by Dmitry Kalinkov on Mar 11, 2013 16:37:30 GMT -8
within the mist, [STYLE=float:left; width:379px; background-color:#F4F4F4; opacity:1; filter:alpha(opacity=70); height:250px; overflow:auto; font-size:10px; font-family:arial; color:#7A7A7A; text-align:justify; padding: 8px]Dmitry didn't have the best of nights, if anything, sleeping on the top of the world as it seemed only made him more paranoid. Being able to see survivors move on below him, or hearing the moans in full decibel as the wind carried them through the thin air could only keep him more awake. He could only stay awake, watching his favorite constellation spin and then duck into the canvas that the sun dragged away.
When he checked up on her in the morning, she was dead asleep, he didn't bother to wake her, she needed her rest. He just draped on his suit and climbed down, going to help the survivors around him farm and tend to their duties. When he wasn't protecting the last grip of civilization, he was helping the colony prosper. And when she came lumbering down, he followed her, but his paranoia sought him to bring multiple clips and a bag of rounds, he didn't like how zombie free it was. Usually that only meant one thing, and that was the last thing he needed.
When the entered area, she asked how he slept, he could only lie and reply "Well enough, And yourself?" He knew her response, but it was to keep the sanity going. Once they got inside, he popped his scope on his rifle off, watching his flanks as they slowly creeped into the hospital. When she spoke about some fact he never knew, he only nodded along. "Thats... Interesting..." He had walked over, a last stage undead dragging its last muscles towards him, he just did the thing a favor and snapped its neck with his dead weight. He walked over to her again, "Lets keep this quick, I don't want to stay around for lunchtime."
[/style]
words; 470
music; n/a
notes; I'll let you introduce the raiders, surprise me.
[style=font-family: fondamento; font-size: 20; letter-spacing: 3px; text-transform: lowercase; text-align: center;]i travel, and not a trace is found
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Post by Thyra Henriksen on Mar 11, 2013 18:26:58 GMT -8
When Dmitry asked her how she'd slept she thought for a second of how to phrase it, in order to not only express how well she had slept, but at the same time her appreciation. It was not difficult to find appropriate words; wondrously, magnificently, perfectly, fantastically, she could go on. So when she couldn't settle on a word to describe her sleep, she simply gave a wide smile and said "amazingly, beautifully, excellently, extraordinarily, magnificently, marvelously, miraculously, remarkably, spectacularly, strikingly, stunningly well!"[/color] That ought to sum it up, she thought after saying it.
Dmitry's less than enthusiastic answer to her random fact was not surprising. After the conversations they had the night before Dmitry was probably already sick of her random facts, but she cared not what people thought when she said things, only thought herself to be informative and exceptionally well-read. She had dealt with people being very annoyed and unenthusiastic about her facts her whole life, and was never offended or bothered by it, only very used to it to the point where she barely noticed whether or not they even cared. Though she did care slightly about what Dmitry thought of her, in her own mind only because she wanted him to like her so she could stay and study the colony, but truly because she quite enjoyed his company and did not want him to tire of her.
She nodded when he said to make it quick. Thyra was used to being on her own, and had always made her efforts to get supplies ridiculously fast, and so she did not consider this to be a problem. There was, however, an actual problem that might prevent them, and it only became obvious when she flattened herself against a wall again in order to look around the corner, but was surprised when a hand came around the corner before she had time to look, pulled the collar of her jacket and made her stumble around the corner. She had reached for her sword, but it was pointless; there was a group of about 12 men standing behind the one who had pulled her, all looking terrifyingly smug, and armed to the teeth. They laughed. Thyra was confused as to the reason for this at first, but soon found herself enlightened when the first man said "look what I found, boys! A little girl, and some walking seaweed! Yummy!"[/color]
Thyra frowned, not entirely sure how to react to the situation. When she was yanked back to her feet by the man and a gun was put to her head, she looked to Dmitry, something like panic marring her normally cheery expression.[/sub]
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Post by Dmitry Kalinkov on Mar 12, 2013 12:30:43 GMT -8
within the mist, [STYLE=float:left; width:379px; background-color:#F4F4F4; opacity:1; filter:alpha(opacity=70); height:250px; overflow:auto; font-size:10px; font-family:arial; color:#7A7A7A; text-align:justify; padding: 8px]He smiled to her comments about her sleep, only nodding, his suit hiding most of his emotions, he was sure she knew that he cared about her now. Whether it was on higher levels than just an acquaintence, he did not know it yet.
He heard footsteps, looking down at himself to see that he wasn't moving. He widened his eyes, looking over to Thyra, she was walking, something was wrong, the footsteps were out of synch, but still in pattern, and it was multiple. "No..." he whispered. He was about to confirm his suspicions, he knew that raiders would come sooner or later. And when Thyra was dragged around the corner, and the group came around the corner he just stood tall.
He chuckled at the compliment, his rifle would be useless in this situation, this was close quarters. Although he was a long range killer, his practice with other men in the colony honed his hand on hand combat. But he would only step forward. He grew his confidence, knowing that he always. ALWAYS. Had a scout with him, if anything, the boy was running back and calling for help. All he had to do was buy himself time. He finally spoke, "I don't think you know who I am, Or who I can become, I suggest you let her go before this becomes ugly." His tone deep in authority and accent, he was used to dealing with barbarians like these, even if he was outnumbered like this.
The advantage he had on them, was that he could see their expressions, and not his. He saw Thyra's near terror, but looked back to the man holding her. He knew he couldn't gun them out, they looked like they could take on a military unit if they stumbled across one. This was either going to turn into a gunfight, or one hell of a stagnant conversation, and the more they talked, the more likely that the undead would find them.
[/style]
words; 508
music; n/a
notes; Go ahead and control the raiders, I'll control the rescue party when they come.
[style=font-family: fondamento; font-size: 20; letter-spacing: 3px; text-transform: lowercase; text-align: center;]i travel, and not a trace is found
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