The sun set much quicker than Crowley had been anticipating. He was still a pretty fair distance away from where he and Blue had decided to set up camp. Blue eyes gaze longingly into the distance — past the looming silhouettes of the buildings that spread long shadows across the terrain. A part of him knew if he wanted to, he could keep going and hope that he would make it back to camp at least in time for the sun to rise. After all, it wasn't like he really had anything to fear. Infected liked to show up in packs during the night, seeing as how it was their prime hunting time, but they posed no threat to him. Even Crowley felt a burst of energy and sudden need to hunt now that night was gaining on him.
But at his core he still had a smidgen of humanity, and something urged him to forgo the trouble and simply make shelter and camp there for the night. Letting out a sigh, Crowley decides to continue wandering until he finds a somewhat cramped alleyway between two buildings — the perfect place to make shelter. It protected him from the bitter winds of the night, and also gave only two points of entry for anyone that might seek to cause him trouble — not that he was particularly worried.
They had yet to meet unfriendly drifters.
Crowley quickly gets to work setting up a temporary shelter, his backpack swung from his shoulders so that it would land on the ground in front of him. He pulled out a ratty, but still somewhat comfortable sleeping bag and laid it out on the ground that seemed the most flat, before pulling sticks and a lighter from the pack. The one good thing about traveling to Stronghold from No Man's Land was that Blue and him had picked up a fair amount of supplies that had not yet been raided. Better still, that they didn't have to worry about becoming a snack for Infected while doing so.
Once the fire was built and lit, Crowley settled down into a sitting position on his sleeping bag, back rested up against one of the buildings sheltering him. His blue eyes remained trained to the small fire roaring to life in front of him. Calm. For the moment everything seemed peaceful, even as the sun finally fell behind the structures surrounding him, bathing the world in a soft moon glow. At least it was rather warm tonight.
Soon the sun would disappear and the infected would be prowling the streets. Dark husks would stand for the derelict buildings -- tall sentinels leaning in over the streets - forever watching, frozen in time as if they were saying they would not be forgotten -- silent guardians as they were. For a small colony that lived amongst the shadows, the sentinels were gods, they provided for all the needs in sustainability and the long-term survivability of a people just trying to get by. As it was in this life. In just a few short hours, the sun would be at rest for the day. With its rest brought chaos. As the sun said its farewell, the monsters woke up. Creating a fate that could not be ignored. Hiding among the shadows, no more than 30 survivors that kept to the contours of safety, most wanderers never had the privilege to stumble across them. With good reason. These survivors had survived because their prerogative was not to go looking for trouble. Most of the time they scattered at the first sign. Usually when an outsider was close by -- the group stayed low and moved fast -- it brought a sense that could not be erased. It was in their DNA; programmed to an extent that at the first sign of trouble they would disappear.
They survived because self-reliance was the most important commodity. Especially in a world that could snuff out the flame just like that. With a snap, the group would scatter, flee for safety and not come out until the danger had passed.
Conviction no longer applied.
With a few hand gestures, hoods pulled up, face coverings pulled up to cover the mouth and nose (which could mistake the group for bandits or worse had they been seen ), leather greaves that made it difficult to puncture, and accentuated colors (drab grey, olive greens and material that did not catch the sunlight) made them blend with the urban environment made invisibility their weapon. Face coverings that muffled what would have been normal vernacular to most people helped to distinguish members of the group. Language from the old world had no more become non-existent than making sure to avoid rush hour traffic. A thing that had been reduced to hand gestures and a fledgling language drawing from older word forms that made adjustments that made verbal adjustments to sounds and patterns already learned. The group had managed to evade and remain mostly unseen. Save for a few stragglers that had the opportunity to work side by side with a few of the more emboldened. Most would keep to their ways and consent to hold their own council.
A few still held the flicker when humanity followed the same rules. Curiosity that could never be completely eradicated.
Doors and corners. Lorelei always checked. Behind a brick corner, rifle pointed down, she peeked, and went back into cover. But this time, searching for supplies, something had caught her attention. Slowly, very slowly, she followed the corner around until she had a line of sight just enough to aim and peer down the scope. A man. She held her stance. One with the stone. Eye closed, head tilted slightly, tracking the man as he walked. Waiting. If he had friends she would leave. She held and watched long enough until he slipped from her scope. Lowered the rifle and let out an exhale that heaved her shoulders.
Made for the next cover in a low crouch run. Feet like water.
Hid behind a dilapidated car. Watched.
Moved to the next cover. Watched.
Then the next.
Most definitely alone.
She watched him turn and walk down an alleyway.
Slumped into a sitting position with her back to the front tire. Rifle cradled in her arms. She could say hi. Make a new friend.
No.
The others would not like that.
She thought about leaving.
Maybe he did not have food. She had food. Could barter.
If he was dangerous, she would shoot him.
Inhaled and stood slowly, peering down the way he had gone. Eyes that moved to the side and the other. Rifle tucked to her shoulder slanted downwards. Looked behind her until she was sure it was all clear. Approached the alleyway. Pulled the rifle so that it lay behind and away to minimize the threat factor. But within reach. Just in case.
Turned the corner into view. Slowly. Face covering pulled down around her neck. Hands in a position to show she was not a threat.
Posted 07-19-2021, 07:19 AM
He hears them, even if he doesn't see them. Maybe it wasn't something he would have noticed as any other level of Infected, but Crowley did recognize that his senses had significantly improved ever since he had mutated into a Level V Infected.
He doesn't know who, or how many there are, just that there are suddenly dozens of faint heartbeats echoing around him, and it immediately puts the young drifter on alert. They're too far away for him to tell whether or not they're human or Infected, and a part of him almost hopes that they're the latter. Not that a pack of feral creatures would make him feel any more comforted, but he also felt as though they posed much less of a threat to him than humans did — oddly enough. Crowley's blue eyes glimmer in the light of the small campfire he had built in front of him, and though he doesn't move from his current position, he's acutely aware of the living creatures moving around him.
He's so distracted by wondering who it was that he doesn't even see the one person that does get close to him until she's practically on top of him, sending him into a flurry of fright. He scrambles backwards along the ground for a couple paces before he stops, letting out a small breath as he recognizes her non-threatening posture. Geez, being away from Blue's side really did make him jumpy, didn't it? Still...
His gaze lowers — he sees the gun at her backside, even if it's tucked away enough that she's not making any immediate threats with it. Then there's the fact that there's still people wandering around in a close vicinity, and after seeing the stranger and being able to pick up on her scent, he can only surmise the traveling group is humans. He still has yet to see them or pinpoint their location, and it leaves him on edge, even as he scrambles to his feet and turns his attention to the woman standing in front of him.
"Sorry for my reaction! You just scared me is all, I wasn't expecting to see anyone, especially this late..." he trails off slightly, his eyes flicking back and forth to scout out the darkness. "You're... Friendly, right? I am too! I don't mean you any harm," he quickly added, once more glancing down at the gun at her back before letting his gaze return to her face.
She rounds the corner. Hands out, non-threateningly.
Strange-man has found a little area to call his own for the night. A small campfire, a temporary shelter. It said all she needed to know. Strange-man was a traveler. Never stayed in one place for very long. Hazel eyes watch strange-man, a far cry from the rest of her people. Would probably have run and scattered. Not Lor, there was and always had been a rare element about the brown-haired female: decadence in curiosity. To learn more about the universe. A little thread of compassion that held onto the hope that not every person was bad. How quickly that tide could shift, change and evolve. Strange-man seemed startled and it caused Lor to take a half-step backwards. Hands pushing at the air to calm the situation. She was not a bad one. Eyebrows furrowed, a thin line, almost confusion, as if they spoke entirely different languages.
Easy, easy I mean you no harm -- not fully having the capability to understand strange-man's words.
Yet, the strange-man made no indication other than seemingly having been startled. Maybe this had been a bad idea. She was starting to have a doubt. The others nearby would not be particularly happy with this. Probably scold her quick-to-trust behavior later. Though, there was something in his tone, in the words spoken that disarmed that doubt with a quick efficiency. She smiled. Gave a nod to confirm. Yes, yes! She knew that word. Clutched a fist to her shoulder, a slight head bow, a gesture that her people had grown customary. Friend she spoke in a happy and jovial tone. The curiosity never lifting. Even the darkness, the glow from the campfire, there was a tinge in her eyes, that little twinkle at the marvel of discovery. Just earlier, the scouting teams had gone on a supply run. Located some canned goods. Most likely from travelers that had come and gone.
A token of esteem and for new friends.
She left a hand in place. To show she was just reaching for her bag. Slowly pulled it over her other shoulder. Began to rummage, keeping the bag to the front, slowly crouched, hazel eyes watching strange-man like a curious cat, and rolled a single can towards him. Slowly stood, returning the bag, and saying, once more, with a stronger brevity, Friend.
Then there was a whistle from afar. Out in the darkness. As if attuned, Lor's turned her head quickly -- not in panic but immediate focus and attention. Without moving, hazel eyes shifted towards the strange-man. They were calling. The others. There was another whistle then one more that seemed further off. Sense of duty was strong among the colony. If she did not report in, they would grow suspicious and come looking. Human nature. Every human had a tribe mentality. Every human wanted to be part of something greater. She inhaled, a punctuating exhale. Hands pushed forward: You. Stay.
Turned, shoulder to the corner, right side of the alley, checked right and then left. A cursory glance paid to the strange-man before she replaced the face covering.
Must have been weird.
She smiled, before the face covering completely covered her face.
Just take a minute.
Then dipped around the corner and into the blackness.
Like a shadow.
Couple seconds later, dipped in silence, there was another whistle: closer.
She doesn't respond to him, which causes Crowley's head to tip sideways slightly, a curious expression on his face that's punctuated by a small frown. Maybe she didn't speak English? But that seemed strange to him — not the idea that someone might speak another language, but that they might not speak English in modern times. The world had collapsed and fallen into ruin; there was very little privilege in speaking another language, when communication with others was key. Even Crowley had been unable to find anyone else during his travels that spoke Italian or Greek. But he supposed he shouldn't be entirely surprised that someone might not speak English. It would just make things more difficult.
The confusion on her face and her trying to placate the situation by putting her hands in the air — like some game of charades — made it clear she didn't understand him. At least body language seemed to be a universal way of communicating with one another, right?
Thankfully she manages to catch on to at least one of his words. Friend. The word makes her eagerly respond to him with a smile and a nod, and Crowley mirrors her with a grin of his own to show he was happy she had understood the meaning. She repeats the word and he nods along with her, repeating the word after her to show he now knew she at least understood that word. He wanted to talk to her so bad — a habit of sorts, considering he liked talking — but he somehow manages to keep his tongue still as he instead takes to just observing her. Now that they'd set down the 'boundary' of being friends, he knew not to distrust what she did next.
Or maybe he was just naive, who knew.
The woman suddenly pulls a can from her bag before tossing it in his direction, the aluminum can bumping along the ground as it rolls its way towards him. He shapes his mouth into an 'oh' as he bends down and grabs the can, straightening up as she repeats the word friend. Crowley grins, with a soft laugh leaving him.
"Yes, friend! Thank you!" he exclaims, pointing at the can for a moment before switching his free hand into giving her a thumbs up. But before he can say anything else — or, well, gesture anything else — a sharp whistle breaks the silence of the night and draws both of their attentions in the direction it came from. She clearly knew what it meant. Crowley, on the other hand, didn't of course, but it immediately brought his attention back to his surroundings, reminding him of all the heartbeats he'd heard earlier. Someone was around still, watching them.
"Wait—!" Crowley begins to say something before the woman is on the move, disappearing into the night once more. The young Infected blinks, staring at the spot she had disappeared to before sitting himself down in front of the fire. He listened to the whistles as he turned the can around in his hand, wondering what kind of food was inside. Not that it would do him much food anyway. Crowley peered into the dark to make sure no one was directly in his line of sight before he used his fingers to jab into the side of the can and rip it open. Easy-peasy for an Infected.
Crowley wondered if the woman was going to return or not.
Light perceives to think that it can travel faster than anything. But, the light is wrong, and according to the muña's teachings, the darkness has always been there first waiting for the light to catch up. It had always been prevalent for as long as the human race can remember. Most just chose to ignore that it existed. In the darkness, the colony managed to find it's purpose and extracted the old world's ruinations to prepare for the coming storm that would form the new one. Just like the ancient cities before. Empires would rise and they would fall. Buried beneath the new one that emerged from it's ashes. A cycle that represented growth and prosperity. Once in a while, a smaller one would emerge and attempt their shot at destiny. Even so, the darkness that loomed over the abandoned and forgotten city, fallen to the end times, lay a derelict remembrance of what was. The whistles that bounced off the large steel structures were the descendants of bygone families. A culture that emerged from the old one. Adapted with the times. Built their walls and confined their safety to a manageable little world. Whistle after whistle. Sharp tones before there was silence. And, the night was still once more. They had turned in. Gone home for the night. Lorelei stayed put, the fire escape she climbed to gain leverage and have her whistle be heard over the foreground, had also served as a good vantage point.
She then pulled the mask back over her face. Etched on the front were her colony's Apotropaic markings to keep out evil. Most in the colony would not admit that their ways were nothing new. According to the books Lorelei had found scattered about and covered in dust, humans had one preset programmed into their DNA. And, in what she had been able to decipher from the Old Language, her colony's markings were similar to that which were used centuries ago. There was a surge in knowledge within the colony. Some knowledge was intended to be erased completely. Lorelei, upon the discovery that the world had gone farther back than what the Elders had claimed, had yearned to learn all she could. Within an exhale, confident that they had taken the bait and returned, pulled the rifle comfortably around the back of her shoulders, the strap diagonal over the front of her torso. Hand on the railing, easily vaulted over, hands clasping and grabbing, letting go, grabbing and letting go until her boots found the pavement. She cleared her throat and pulled the mask free and lowered her hood. That man. In the alley. He was the first person outside the colony she had seen in weeks. Most people from the oktion never went this way. He looked to be going somewhere. But where?
Somewhere up above there was a clash of rolling thunder. It was far away. But, Lorelei sniffed and sensed the rain that caused the wind to smell fresh and sweet. And, with an exhale, she took a step forward back towards the nice man. She wondered what else she had that she could give him. A token of their new friendship. That is what friends were, right? Give each other things. Completely unsure on the outside cultures, Lorelei and her yearning to find out more about people and how they lived, preferred the crusade of personal growth and discovery. Finding trinkets lost in the dead city. Bartering, trading. The more she learned there were things that always surprised and caused the girl to believe that the colony, in the cosmic notion of things, knew nothing. In the grander scheme, they were miniscule. So, as she rounded the corner back to the alley, happy to find that he had not moved, Lorelei raised a hand to indicate she was saying hello -- Hello, jovial and light, she smiled but also look apologetic. Cast a look behind her and then waved a hand in front of her to tell him they were gone. A few cautious steps forward and she was within two feet of the fire. One thing that was customary in the colony, wait to be invited. Nobody just walked up, sat down, and cracked open a can of beer.
Fist pressed to her palm, thumb hooked over the other, it was clear the female was a little apprehensive. Unsure how to approach. Initiate dialogue. As much as she appeared to want to. Trade with the others was paramount to survival. According to the books from the old world. Why the Elders completely closed that out from their history was incomprehensible. She remembered the book she had read. Well, tried to read in the old language. How to Introduce Yourself to Others Without Feeling Awkward. Awkward was an awkward word to say or read at the time. Countless times she had been on some fire escape repeating the word. But as she attempted to make the first introduction, despite the confused look on her face as she tried to commence the words to even begin, Lorelei stood with straight posture. She had learned that recently. Worried that she might be slouching even slightly, straightened up a bit. Scratched the back of her head and said, I am Lorelei.
Posted 08-24-2021, 02:41 AM
On the Road Again
Posted 07-13-2021, 03:21 PM
