zombies || p

[sock]

Bronwyn Raven
7-year-old || she/her || small for her age, she's very good at hiding and running. She has olive skin, shoulder-length black hair, and jade-green eyes. She wears a red t-shirt with a torn left sleeve, and denim overalls that end in a skirt (falls just above her knees) with a pocket on the chest. She has no shoes in order to make less noise, and wears tall grey socks

The apocalypse was all she'd ever known. The apocalypse had taken her mother, her father, and her older brother. As she paced the halls of an abandoned Home Depot, the image of their deaths plagued her mind. She never left the building anymore, the only exception being the outdoor area for plants. It wasn't because she was afraid, no. It was because here, she had everything she needed.

Food, safety, resources, shelter.

Though it was annoying, a few survivors would often come to her seeking refuge. She would always provide for them until the time came for them to leave, or until they were in good health. It always seemed like a burden, sharing the precious few things she had with dirty strangers, but once they left, she always felt an unexpected stab of loneliness.

That was in the past, though.

She'd learned to control her emotions, blocking out anything and everything so she appeared rock-hard, fearless, and indifferent. And for the most part, she'd succeeded. Bronwyn found herself becoming a bit of a legend among other survivors; and it was always strange when the odd human would enter the building, treating her as if she was a goddess of wisdom and prosperity.

She was only seven.

For now, Bronwyn was alone. Her last visitor had left a few months ago, leaving her to her thoughts, as she preferred to be. She wondered how long it would last.

[ @peppermintbubble. ]

[bubble[error].]

Originally Posted by sock

Bronwyn Raven
7-year-old || she/her || small for her age, she's very good at hiding and running. She has olive skin, shoulder-length black hair, and jade-green eyes. She wears a red t-shirt with a torn left sleeve, and denim overalls that end in a skirt (falls just above her knees) with a pocket on the chest. She has no shoes in order to make less noise, and wears tall grey socks

The apocalypse was all she'd ever known. The apocalypse had taken her mother, her father, and her older brother. As she paced the halls of an abandoned Home Depot, the image of their deaths plagued her mind. She never left the building anymore, the only exception being the outdoor area for plants. It wasn't because she was afraid, no. It was because here, she had everything she needed.

Food, safety, resources, shelter.

Though it was annoying, a few survivors would often come to her seeking refuge. She would always provide for them until the time came for them to leave, or until they were in good health. It always seemed like a burden, sharing the precious few things she had with dirty strangers, but once they left, she always felt an unexpected stab of loneliness.

That was in the past, though.

She'd learned to control her emotions, blocking out anything and everything so she appeared rock-hard, fearless, and indifferent. And for the most part, she'd succeeded. Bronwyn found herself becoming a bit of a legend among other survivors; and it was always strange when the odd human would enter the building, treating her as if she was a goddess of wisdom and prosperity.

She was only seven.

For now, Bronwyn was alone. Her last visitor had left a few months ago, leaving her to her thoughts, as she preferred to be. She wondered how long it would last.

[ @peppermintbubble. ]

{ Warning: mentions of guns, violence , and mentions of death and fantasy }

Samantha Foyard - She/Her - 13-Years-Okd - Survivor
-- Rather tall for her age, she has long red-black hair, sharp and blazing orange eyes, wears whatever she can get her hands on, so her appearance in clothes may vary. She carries two pistols, a shotgun, and a large backpack with supplies. Can normally be seen with a German Shepherd following her. --

If the apocalypse was supposed to be something horrible, Samantha would disagree.

Finally separated from her horrible and controlling parents, the young girl lived by exploring. She never stayed in one place. Her dog, ironically named Death, followed her and helped fight. Samantha learned a lot. She learned how to hotwire cars. She learned how to grow her own food if she needs to stay in one place for a good long while. She learned how to tell if someone was infected and who wasn't, so she knew to help and who to shoot on sight. And she learned how to use guns, how to make knots with rope, how to make her own water with the sun and a bag, and so much more.

Samantha was a force to be reckoned with. The stories of her taking down mass hords of zombies with nothing but a dagger, her running over many zombies with cars before making her escape, and she's even learned how to hide amongst the zombies and rubbing dead flesh all over her and acting like one as her dog distracted most of them.

It had been years since she had last seen a human. She traveled the world to find her only friend before the apocalypse, a boy named Carl. She wanted to find him. Alive hopefully. As she rammed the car she had hotwired through a hoard of these flesh-eating creatures, a large building caught her attention. It was what looked like a Home Depot. The lights were... On? Or, she could see lights.

Samantha steered her car towards the building and slammed the breaks by a ladder. Of course she wasn't gonna waltz through the front doors, they were most likely blocked. So she climbed up the ladder as her dog used other means of getting up. Soon the two of them were on the roof. The setting sun gave its dying rays a blast of light into hee eyes. Holding her hand in front of her face, Samantha sees a vent. She quickly runs to it, and helped her dog into it first and followed in suit. Death used his nose to lead though the vents and soon, he noses a vent cover off the wall with a loud clang. Samantha prayed that no zombies or hostile survivors were close enough to hear that. Her dog jumped down, and she followed.

Her black sneakers hit the hard cold floor of the abandoned store. She brushed her body off, fixing her green shirt and blue pants before taking out her shotgun from her back and slowly started to explore the dark store with her flashlight. She knew there was someone in here. She could sense it. They weren't alone. Death sniffed as he walked with his owner. Samantha could hear her own footsteps and breathing echo slightly. She carefully pulled the safety trigger off the shotgun when she heard footsteps that weren't her own. 'I'm not afraid of you!' She thought as she raised her gun and held her ground, holding her breath...

[sock]

Originally Posted by peppermintbubble.

{ Warning: mentions of guns, violence , and mentions of death and fantasy }

Samantha Foyard - She/Her - 13-Years-Okd - Survivor
-- Rather tall for her age, she has long red-black hair, sharp and blazing orange eyes, wears whatever she can get her hands on, so her appearance in clothes may vary. She carries two pistols, a shotgun, and a large backpack with supplies. Can normally be seen with a German Shepherd following her. --

If the apocalypse was supposed to be something horrible, Samantha would disagree.

Finally separated from her horrible and controlling parents, the young girl lived by exploring. She never stayed in one place. Her dog, ironically named Death, followed her and helped fight. Samantha learned a lot. She learned how to hotwire cars. She learned how to grow her own food if she needs to stay in one place for a good long while. She learned how to tell if someone was infected and who wasn't, so she knew to help and who to shoot on sight. And she learned how to use guns, how to make knots with rope, how to make her own water with the sun and a bag, and so much more.

Samantha was a force to be reckoned with. The stories of her taking down mass hords of zombies with nothing but a dagger, her running over many zombies with cars before making her escape, and she's even learned how to hide amongst the zombies and rubbing dead flesh all over her and acting like one as her dog distracted most of them.

It had been years since she had last seen a human. She traveled the world to find her only friend before the apocalypse, a boy named Carl. She wanted to find him. Alive hopefully. As she rammed the car she had hotwired through a hoard of these flesh-eating creatures, a large building caught her attention. It was what looked like a Home Depot. The lights were... On? Or, she could see lights.

Samantha steered her car towards the building and slammed the breaks by a ladder. Of course she wasn't gonna waltz through the front doors, they were most likely blocked. So she climbed up the ladder as her dog used other means of getting up. Soon the two of them were on the roof. The setting sun gave its dying rays a blast of light into hee eyes. Holding her hand in front of her face, Samantha sees a vent. She quickly runs to it, and helped her dog into it first and followed in suit. Death used his nose to lead though the vents and soon, he noses a vent cover off the wall with a loud clang. Samantha prayed that no zombies or hostile survivors were close enough to hear that. Her dog jumped down, and she followed.

Her black sneakers hit the hard cold floor of the abandoned store. She brushed her body off, fixing her green shirt and blue pants before taking out her shotgun from her back and slowly started to explore the dark store with her flashlight. She knew there was someone in here. She could sense it. They weren't alone. Death sniffed as he walked with his owner. Samantha could hear her own footsteps and breathing echo slightly. She carefully pulled the safety trigger off the shotgun when she heard footsteps that weren't her own. 'I'm not afraid of you!' She thought as she raised her gun and held her ground, holding her breath...

The clang of a vent brought Bronwyn from her thoughts, and sent her sprinting to her camp. It was in the back of the store, nestled into the houseware section. A blanket tied to two kitchen displays made up the walls and ceiling, leaving the front of the fort open. Inside was a lantern, a sleeping bag and pillow, a bloody wooden baseball bat, and a small plush cat. She lunged for the baseball bat, ignoring the lantern - she'd rather traverse the dark halls than give away her position to whatever it was that'd found its way in here - and making her way silently towards where she'd pinpointed the echo of the fallen vent cover to be.

Bronwyn didn't have to strain her ears to hear the careless footsteps of somebody else. She highly doubted it was a zombie - those vents were hard to get to, and zombies weren't smart enough for that. Therefore, it had to be a human. Bronwyn had met her fair share of kind survivors, but she'd met a heaping amount of bad ones, too. Holding her bat with white-knuckled grip, she advanced on the noises, which seemed to be growing louder.

Bronwyn also identified a second source of noise - some kind of beast. She could hear the rhythmic click clack click clack of claws on concrete, and it startled the young girl to hear such a thing. She remembered one man - an old, sickly one - come through her building with a small and excitable dog. That was the only way she'd been able to recognize the clatter, but the beast's steps seemed to be much heavier than the little pooch's had been.

What a fool, she thought. What a fool to think I can't hear them.

[bubble[error].]

Originally Posted by sock

The clang of a vent brought Bronwyn from her thoughts, and sent her sprinting to her camp. It was in the back of the store, nestled into the houseware section. A blanket tied to two kitchen displays made up the walls and ceiling, leaving the front of the fort open. Inside was a lantern, a sleeping bag and pillow, a bloody wooden baseball bat, and a small plush cat. She lunged for the baseball bat, ignoring the lantern - she'd rather traverse the dark halls than give away her position to whatever it was that'd found its way in here - and making her way silently towards where she'd pinpointed the echo of the fallen vent cover to be.

Bronwyn didn't have to strain her ears to hear the careless footsteps of somebody else. She highly doubted it was a zombie - those vents were hard to get to, and zombies weren't smart enough for that. Therefore, it had to be a human. Bronwyn had met her fair share of kind survivors, but she'd met a heaping amount of bad ones, too. Holding her bat with white-knuckled grip, she advanced on the noises, which seemed to be growing louder.

Bronwyn also identified a second source of noise - some kind of beast. She could hear the rhythmic click clack click clack of claws on concrete, and it startled the young girl to hear such a thing. She remembered one man - an old, sickly one - come through her building with a small and excitable dog. That was the only way she'd been able to recognize the clatter, but the beast's steps seemed to be much heavier than the little pooch's had been.

What a fool, she thought. What a fool to think I can't hear them.

Samantha stopped. She could hear someone else. That someone else was coming. Her dog stopped and sniffed and glanced at her. She nodded. Death walked forward, sniffing and sniffing, as she followed close behind. Then, she flung her hand out and crouched. Death stopped and crouched. Samantha could see someone through a few shelves. Someone holding something. Maybe a baseball bat? Or possible a smooth chunk of wood? Who knows?

She carefully put her shotgun on the shelf, aiming it at the person, but felt something tugging at her heart. She didn't want to hurt this person yet. So she ended up turning her shotgun more to the right and firing it. The bullet slammed into the shelf next to the new person, the bang making a loud noise, and the shelf shook at the force of the impact, and some things fell off it. Samantha had her dog run after the person and make sure they weren't gonna get hurt from the falling objects.

The shelf thankfully didn't actually fall over. Samantha approached the person, holding her shotgun still. "State your name." She ordered.

[sock]

Originally Posted by peppermintbubble.

Samantha stopped. She could hear someone else. That someone else was coming. Her dog stopped and sniffed and glanced at her. She nodded. Death walked forward, sniffing and sniffing, as she followed close behind. Then, she flung her hand out and crouched. Death stopped and crouched. Samantha could see someone through a few shelves. Someone holding something. Maybe a baseball bat? Or possible a smooth chunk of wood? Who knows?

She carefully put her shotgun on the shelf, aiming it at the person, but felt something tugging at her heart. She didn't want to hurt this person yet. So she ended up turning her shotgun more to the right and firing it. The bullet slammed into the shelf next to the new person, the bang making a loud noise, and the shelf shook at the force of the impact, and some things fell off it. Samantha had her dog run after the person and make sure they weren't gonna get hurt from the falling objects.

The shelf thankfully didn't actually fall over. Samantha approached the person, holding her shotgun still. "State your name." She ordered.

A bullet whistled by her ear, sending multiple items careening off the shelf next to her. Bronwyn didn't scream or shout - she wasn't frightened. She simply stepped to the side, allowing the items - wood, paint cans, pipes, extension cords - to take their course. Bronwyn could hear the clatter of claws coming closer, and at an alarming speed. She readied her bat, just in case, when-

CRACK!

An enormous piece of wood that had fallen from the very top of the shelf knocked her to the ground, causing her jaw to make contact with the concrete flooring. The wood landed on her lower body, too heavy to pull off. Sometimes being so young didn't help in the apocalypse. Because of the circumstances, she was obviously very physically strong, but there was only so much a seven-year-old could do.

Bronwyn rubbed her jaw, and found that her tongue was bleeding. She'd bit it on the way to the ground, and the pain was only just beginning to register. She watched, glaring, as a dog pranced up to her, almost immediately followed by a girl - a child, by the looks of it - holding a gun. She asked her name.

Bronwyn smiled wryly, fingers tapping the ground impatiently. "No thank you. Why don't you point that gun somewhere else? At the dog, maybe? He'd make a great dinner, and he's more trouble than he's worth. After all, I heard you all the way over here," she said, sounding bored. Stuff like this happened all the time, and honestly, after being threatened by powerful men and enormous women, this child didn't scare her.

Of course, the girl was older than her, but she didn't care.

[bubble[error].]

Originally Posted by sock

A bullet whistled by her ear, sending multiple items careening off the shelf next to her. Bronwyn didn't scream or shout - she wasn't frightened. She simply stepped to the side, allowing the items - wood, paint cans, pipes, extension cords - to take their course. Bronwyn could hear the clatter of claws coming closer, and at an alarming speed. She readied her bat, just in case, when-

CRACK!

An enormous piece of wood that had fallen from the very top of the shelf knocked her to the ground, causing her jaw to make contact with the concrete flooring. The wood landed on her lower body, too heavy to pull off. Sometimes being so young didn't help in the apocalypse. Because of the circumstances, she was obviously very physically strong, but there was only so much a seven-year-old could do.

Bronwyn rubbed her jaw, and found that her tongue was bleeding. She'd bit it on the way to the ground, and the pain was only just beginning to register. She watched, glaring, as a dog pranced up to her, almost immediately followed by a girl - a child, by the looks of it - holding a gun. She asked her name.

Bronwyn smiled wryly, fingers tapping the ground impatiently. "No thank you. Why don't you point that gun somewhere else? At the dog, maybe? He'd make a great dinner, and he's more trouble than he's worth. After all, I heard you all the way over here," she said, sounding bored. Stuff like this happened all the time, and honestly, after being threatened by powerful men and enormous women, this child didn't scare her.

Of course, the girl was older than her, but she didn't care.

(oh I love this girl already so much lol)

Samantha put her finger on the trigger at the mention of shooting her dog. "I'm not shooting Death! He's been one of the reasons I'm still alive!" She hissed, ready to shoot but wasn't gonna pull the trigger unless given no choice. She lowered her gun though after seeing who this 7-year-old wasn't scared by her. She wasn't that surprised.

"Don't give me that look. I only came here because I thought I saw lights that weren't the sun's rays. And my flashlight is dead, so I'm staying here for the night. Just point where your camp is and I'll go the other direction and you won't have to see me if you want." Samantha motioned for Death to come to her. "And no, I didn't name the dog Death, my dumb parents did to try and scare me when I was little. It didn't work."

If the girl didn't point anywhere for about two minutes, Samantha would just go back to the vent she entered this place in and stay there or she would explore more to find more supplies. "I'm not gonna say anything about your age. I really don't care. I've seen way dumber people who are grown ups. Everyone has to be smart to survive. If you're not gonna tell me your name, then I'm not gonna tell you mine."

[sock]

Originally Posted by peppermintbubble.

(oh I love this girl already so much lol)

Samantha put her finger on the trigger at the mention of shooting her dog. "I'm not shooting Death! He's been one of the reasons I'm still alive!" She hissed, ready to shoot but wasn't gonna pull the trigger unless given no choice. She lowered her gun though after seeing who this 7-year-old wasn't scared by her. She wasn't that surprised.

"Don't give me that look. I only came here because I thought I saw lights that weren't the sun's rays. And my flashlight is dead, so I'm staying here for the night. Just point where your camp is and I'll go the other direction and you won't have to see me if you want." Samantha motioned for Death to come to her. "And no, I didn't name the dog Death, my dumb parents did to try and scare me when I was little. It didn't work."

If the girl didn't point anywhere for about two minutes, Samantha would just go back to the vent she entered this place in and stay there or she would explore more to find more supplies. "I'm not gonna say anything about your age. I really don't care. I've seen way dumber people who are grown ups. Everyone has to be smart to survive. If you're not gonna tell me your name, then I'm not gonna tell you mine."

Dear lord, this girl was annoying. She watched the girl place her finger over the trigger of the gun, but Bronwyn sincerely doubted that she'd shoot a little girl. She decided to nickname the girl Trigger. Bronwyn laughed when Trigger introduced the dog as Death, as if it was an actually good name for a dumb dog to have. As Bronwyn saw it, death was kind. Forgiving. It took you away from this world of pain and suffering, offering you a better place, offering peace. Meanwhile, this dog was none of those things. It was loud, annoying, and licking her face. Bronwyn tried to push Death away, but Trigger called him back to her side.

And then Trigger asked her to point to her camp. Really? How stupid did Trigger think she was? 'Oh, yeah, I'll just point to my camp, give you the exact coordinates, and then maybe you can steal all my things and leave me for dead!' IDIOT. Bronwyn actually laughed at the suggestion. "Listen, I'm cool with live and let live," she said, propping her - still throbbing - head on her hand.

Woah, Trigger just kept getting worse and worse. She started preaching about age, and idiots (as if she wasn't one), and about how she 'wouldn't say anything about her age'. Yeah, dumbass, that's mentioning my age. Bronwyn rolled her eyes. "Oh, go preach it to the nation," she huffed. "Now can you get this wood off of me?"

[bubble[error].]

Originally Posted by sock

Dear lord, this girl was annoying. She watched the girl place her finger over the trigger of the gun, but Bronwyn sincerely doubted that she'd shoot a little girl. She decided to nickname the girl Trigger. Bronwyn laughed when Trigger introduced the dog as Death, as if it was an actually good name for a dumb dog to have. As Bronwyn saw it, death was kind. Forgiving. It took you away from this world of pain and suffering, offering you a better place, offering peace. Meanwhile, this dog was none of those things. It was loud, annoying, and licking her face. Bronwyn tried to push Death away, but Trigger called him back to her side.

And then Trigger asked her to point to her camp. Really? How stupid did Trigger think she was? 'Oh, yeah, I'll just point to my camp, give you the exact coordinates, and then maybe you can steal all my things and leave me for dead!' IDIOT. Bronwyn actually laughed at the suggestion. "Listen, I'm cool with live and let live," she said, propping her - still throbbing - head on her hand.

Woah, Trigger just kept getting worse and worse. She started preaching about age, and idiots (as if she wasn't one), and about how she 'wouldn't say anything about her age'. Yeah, dumbass, that's mentioning my age. Bronwyn rolled her eyes. "Oh, go preach it to the nation," she huffed. "Now can you get this wood off of me?"

Samantha couldn't handle this stupid girl. "Hey, it's not my fault I don't talk to people anymore!" She hissed ans removed the wood off her. She turned and walked back to the vent she entered and sat against the wall. She opened her bag and dug through it, taking out a can of tuna. She gave some of it to Death and ate the rest herself. I hate that girl. I'm just gonna find batteries and leave. I'm better off without her.

Samantha was thinking of renaming her dog to something else. But now she couldn't think that. She explored the shelves of the store, trying to find more supplies.

(Hmmm... We need something to happen to make them need each other for help.)

[sock]

Originally Posted by peppermintbubble.

Samantha couldn't handle this stupid girl. "Hey, it's not my fault I don't talk to people anymore!" She hissed ans removed the wood off her. She turned and walked back to the vent she entered and sat against the wall. She opened her bag and dug through it, taking out a can of tuna. She gave some of it to Death and ate the rest herself. I hate that girl. I'm just gonna find batteries and leave. I'm better off without her.

Samantha was thinking of renaming her dog to something else. But now she couldn't think that. She explored the shelves of the store, trying to find more supplies.

(Hmmm... We need something to happen to make them need each other for help.)

(hm... zombies?)

Bronwyn grabbed the lowest shelf in order to pull herself off the ground, brushing the dust and grime from her skirt. She silently walked over to one of the check-out counters, carefully pulling one of the enormous self-proclaimed "gourmet" lollipops from a cardboard stand. She quickly unwrapped it, dropped the wrapper on the ground, and put the candy in her mouth. She stormed back to her camp, making a point of stomping as loud as she could - which wasn't too loud, because of her lack of shoes - and glaring at the vents.

Once she was back at her camp, she plopped herself down on her sleeping bag. Reaching under her pillow, she pulled out a novel she'd found in the bathroom a few months ago. She had been using it to teach herself how to read.

[bubble[error].]

Originally Posted by sock

(hm... zombies?)

Bronwyn grabbed the lowest shelf in order to pull herself off the ground, brushing the dust and grime from her skirt. She silently walked over to one of the check-out counters, carefully pulling one of the enormous self-proclaimed "gourmet" lollipops from a cardboard stand. She quickly unwrapped it, dropped the wrapper on the ground, and put the candy in her mouth. She stormed back to her camp, making a point of stomping as loud as she could - which wasn't too loud, because of her lack of shoes - and glaring at the vents.

Once she was back at her camp, she plopped herself down on her sleeping bag. Reaching under her pillow, she pulled out a novel she'd found in the bathroom a few months ago. She had been using it to teach herself how to read.

(who shall need the help first?)

Still steaming with rage, Samantha found batteries and stuffed them into her flashlight and got it working. Just as the few lights in this building went off. The entire building fell into darkness. She turned on her flashlight and pulled out her pistol, since it was the easiest weapon to use with a flashlight in her hand. She and her dog silently walked slowly through the dark halls, hearing the noises of zombies outside

Samantha found herself near the center of the building after a while and froze. She glanced at her dog. He was sniffing and his ears were straining. He then let out a low growl that echoed through the entire building. She knew what that meant. 'Oh, crap.'

'Zombies.'

That thought was the only thought she could make before hearing the sound of glass shatter and shelves falling and other things falling echoing loudly through the store. The zombies had broken in. They were getting smarter.