Welcome to Walking Dead, Survival! By joining this site, you accept the terms and conditions and are willing and able to prove that you are 18 and older. By accepting this, you release all liability.
Forum Roleplay: Roleplay resources catering to play-by-post forum gamers and communities
If you would like to establish your own Stronghold, please private message Remy with a name, city, state and brief description of your stronghold. If you have any questions about any of the stronghold's listed above, please mesesage the leaders. NEWS AND EVENTS:
For news and events in our area strongholds, click here: STRONGHOLD NEWS
It all felt surreal...but maybe that was the fever making her loopy.
The banging and moans finally broke through her fuzzy haze and she looked up and over at the same time as Damien pulled away, the brush of his finger slowly pulling her attention away from the dangerous undead outside. She shrank along with Damien, away from them, away from what they represented, and moved into the relative safety of the house. She pressed her fingers against her eyes, wiping her tears away...and finally refocused somewhat as she sat - instead of laying, like Damien tried to get her to do - and slowly eased her bag off her shoulders. There was something...something she was forgetting...
And as he came back and shut the door, she remembered, her eyes catching the small hole and stain. She frowned, pulling out her small first aid kit and setting it on her lap.
"...Damien...do you have alcohol, here?"
She didn't want to drink anything just yet, not trusting that her body wouldn't immediately expel it again. She might try the dayquil...maybe. There was the issue of the gunshot wound to take care of, first. And even though she was sick, it'd be easier than dealing with the wound, himself, no matter how many times he'd gone through it already.
It struck her, then, just how lucky he was that it didn't hit him, lower.
"A little. I've had to use it for...wounds in the past, instead of drinking. Let me see-"
He'd move over and rummage through his pack, removing a 12 year old scotch that had about a quarter of the bottle left. It wasn't totally clean, really...but it was definitely better than nothing. Thankfully, the bullet smashed through the meat on his shoulder and blasted out the back- avoiding his muscle. He would wince as he removed his shirt, pulling some fishing wire and a needle from the first aid kid he had. He'd sit on the floor in front of her, take a swig of the alcohol...and pour some on his wound.
"Augh-Mmmfffuck...."
His growl and word was mostly suppressed, knowing that if they kept quiet, the moans would start to drift off with the loss of walker interest.
Unless she tried to take it from him, he'd pinch the wound and try to start sewing it closed himself.
She let him go and rummage, and unzipped her kit, threading a curved needle with the suture thread. Her stitches would be nowhere near as neat and professional as her sister's, but, she would do alright--
She looked up to see Damien threading another needle - considering she'd finished before he got back - and immediately pushed to wobbly feet to sink down next to him, taking a cotton ball and tipping it onto the top of the alcohol bottle to wet it and clean the needle, thread, and her fingers.
"Wait...wait... I have...proper thread, Damien." So she would take his from him with a frown and take a look at the wound, first, before looking back at her bag and pulling out the knife. Pretty nice, for a kitchen knife! She offered the handle to him.
"Bite. Just in case."
She inhaled slowly and tipped more alcohol onto the cotton ball before cleaning the exit wound. Then...she would do what Damien had intended, drawing needle and thread through the wound to close it in silence, on her part, though she winced in sympathy.
Damien would blink and look down at what she held.
"O-oh."
He'd lower his needle and let her go about the work of stripping away shredded flesh and beginning to sew it shut. He took another drink, trying his best to not focus on the numbing yet continually stabbing pain of her administrations. He didn't know what was happening- like, part of him had prepared for this moment. To find her again, live and well. No, that was wrong. Part of him hoped for it but....it had been mostly squashed. He'd prepared to tell his brother- whom he knew must still live- that she was dead. Now, he had the responsibility to make sure that they found each other again.
"Have you...AH....heard or seen Arianna and David?"
He wouldn't broach the topic of her no longer swollen stomach.
Kyrie remained largely silent, though judging by her breathing and the slightly unsteady hands, she was exerting her willpower to get through this last bit, before she reached a state of utter exhaustion and passed out.
"...no...you?"
She hoped and dreaded the answer all at once.
The blonde turned her head with a soft burp, wincing at the taste of residual bile, and spent a few minutes after tying off the front part just...catching her breath as she shuffled around to the back to repeat the same. He'd have a scar from this. Not a neat one, either. Still, she was deliberately focused on her task, and didn't want to think of the questions Damien would have, next.
There was no way it wouldn't come up, one way or another.
Damien would turn back as she finished, letting the answer hang for a moment. He knew she wanted to catch up but she was oh so clearly ill. Terribly so. He'd help her once more- this time into his bed- where he would cover her. Only far more clearly- he wasn't giving her the option of not getting rest. Of sitting him and visiting. He'd answer her question simply.
"I spoke with him a year ago. Rest, and I'll tell you all about it."
He wouldn't take no for an answer. Once she was laying down, he'd go in to boil some water and make tea that he'd found and saved for this home.
The message he'd received from David was the only good part about it- that he was alive.
The rest of the message was.....harrowing, to say the least.
The petite blonde - clearly thinner than he'd remembered - made no move to resist as Damien helped her up and to lay upon the bed after she'd finished stitching up the exit wound. Her eyes, though, widened in a sort of dreadful hope as he said he'd had contact. But despite her hope there was a growing pit of knots in her stomach.
Fear.
A fear that was somehow more tangible, now that she knew Damien was alive and before her.
She pressed her hand to her mouth, obviously to stall further questions as Damien moved away, but also to discourage her body from any more sickly antics. She burrowed under the blankets, hands and body clammy and cold. Even with the jacket, she couldn't quite stop her teeth from chattering as she waited, trying to relax even though she felt like she could vibrate out of her skin at the news.
...and being sick.
Her eyes followed him if he was still in view. But if not, she didn't fall asleep, yet, though her eyes were heavy and, now, too dry.
Without asking, Damien slipped a touch of Theraflu into her tea. Cold medicine. Medicine that would put her into a deep and hopefully dreamless sleep. Coming back into the living room, he handed her the camomile and would sit next to her, his remaining sword propped against his shoulder.
"Do not be afraid, Kyrie. I'll be here when you wake. I promise."
He'd wait for her to finish the tea before setting the cup aside. He planned to sit, awake, for as long as she rested. Whether an hour. Three hours. Ten hours. Damien had been on a long journey to reach the point where he could tuck Kiyr into bed.
A hand snaked out of the blankets and Kyrie slowly pushed herself to sit up so she didn't spill and scald herself at all. She winced a little, wrapping her hands around the mug as she took a slow sip. She hadn't tasted tea in so long...it tasted slightly odd, but, she didn't really think anything of it. The mug was hot in her hands. Nice. Too hot.
One hand lifted and settled against his shoulder--his good shoulder.
"Damien...what happened when you spoke with David..?"
She was tired. Drowsy, even without the Theraflu. But, it was obvious she wanted to know. Some part of her was deathly afraid she might not like the news. Her hand unsteadily squeezed. She would know if he lied.
He sighed. She really should rest before hand but....he knew she'd fight it unless he gave her what she wanted.
"We have our own power sources inside Blaize ENT. As long as it remains off, the generators won't run dry and its locked behind some pretty powerful doors. Doors that are still standing. Anyway- he messaged me once a month, about two months after you and I were separated. Then, i got one from him a year ago. He said.....he said he lost Arianna. She was taken by Raiders, he thinks. He still has my boy and was going to start east. Which meant he'd be out of contact."
He knew Arianna's loss would hit Kiyr as it had him.
"I promised him that I was still looking, and as soon as I found you, we'd make for North Dakota. We'll meet him there."
Assuming David didn't run into any problems along the way.
The weary blonde slowly sipped the tea as Damien spoke, letting it warm her from the inside, out, though she still felt like a sickly, shuddering mess of a human being. She felt relieved that they'd been in communication...
...up until the point that the bad news was delivered.
Her hand shook against his shoulder, fingers and palm slackening in their grip before squeezing again as she couldn't help the bubble of a sob that escaped her lips before she clenched her jaw, stifling further sounds of distress to listen intently. At least Will was still safe, though...if anything, if he and David were okay... They would still have some part of her sister, if she met a fate as David thought, or, worse.
The blonde closed her bleak - and now wet, again - blue eyes and sank down, awkwardly, to wind the arm of the hand that had gripped his shoulder around him in a hug.
"...nothing...on the rest of my family?"
She knew her father was likely dead, by the news David had given her back when she had been in contact with him - them - at the start of all this. She drew in a staggered breath and exhaled just as shakily.
He faced forward and spoke quickly...monotonously. Too much death had reached his ears to continue to shed tears, though for her it would be different he knew. Tears would come. It did for him, when he heard of Arianna. Just...continuing to speak and think about it deadened the pain.
"Your younger sister, Aless, is still unaccounted for. Your parents...both died. Your brother's are unknown as well."
Kyrie exhaled softly at the...mechanical tone of voice Damien gave as he shared the news and she sipped the tea, still. She...didn't cry at his words. Somehow that was better than the grave news she had been expecting, before. The tea drained - and herself still shaking like a leaf in a cold autumn wind - she gently leaned over the edge, to wind up setting the glass on the floor.
Her stomach lurched and she stifled a groan...then eased her hand from his shoulder to his waist in a hug, offering what comfort she could, given her illness. She then pulled the blankets up after folding the bottom around her feet.
Blessedly, she didn't argue, the Theraflu working quickly despite her protesting body. She tucked her face against his back, and, still clutching him, closed her eyes, and waited for sleep to take her. It wasn't long, even with her shivering, and the tiny blonde was out like a light.
Damien watched her fall asleep on his lap, brow furrowing. He would bring the blanket up and over to cover her fully. His fingers would comb through her hair. No way in hell would he let anything happen to her. He would sit in vigil all night, helping her to adjust and go back to sleep anytime she woke.
Never once did he drift off- he sat in the same place, his lap her pillow, keeping a steady vigil.
************9 Hours Later**************
She would wake with a pillow under her- which he had placed about an hour ago to stretch his legs. But he was still in the room, standing at the window, staring out into the streets. Halfway through the night the group came back and took a glance around but had left soon after, probably heading back into the city to either get more men or wreak havoc on those that remained.
Whatever the case was, they would be clean out of Mass. by the time they got back.
"Good morning, Kyrie. There is a warm can of beans next to you- just made it a few minutes ago."
Her sleep was deep but somewhat fitful. It seemed to her she woke often, groggily, but she never remembered for how long or how many times. All she knew when she did...was that Damien was still there.
It was a constant that surprised her every time...but the absence of him there when she woke up some nine hours later caused her to tense and immediately look around, wide-eyed...and still and relax with a groan as she spotted him at the window. She sank onto the mattress and exhaled against her arm and the pillow, her response muffled by the pillow.
"G'morning Damien." Her eyes - crusty - cracked open again to look for the can. She wasn't sure if she could stomach it, but, she slowly reached for it and drew it towards her.
...screw manners. She remained beneath the warmth of the blankets and took a tentative bite of a few, to test her stomach. Her stomach, which promptly churned and squeezed. She pushed the can away and set her forehead against the crook of her elbow, still holding it, just...away.
Damien would walk back toward the center of the room, sitting at the couch. On the table were a few guns and a whole lot of knives. They were cleaned and sharpened. The sword handle was sticking up over his right shoulder, and the third gun was at his waist. He would speak quietly.
"I've assessed my armament. I figure we could both handle all of these....how good are you with a knife?"
Perhaps she'd been trained by her previous group in weapons use, or perhaps she had some martial arts training prior to the fall that he didn't know about.
Whatever the case, he'd glance at the very small pile of food in the corner- a days worth. Maybe two. If they planned to make it all the way to North Dakota, they would have to track down a food store. His car was in beautiful shape, and could handle any load they came across. Judging from Kyrie's wounds from the bike crash, she probably didn't have much food and any she did have back there they would have to leave.
The blonde opened her eyes as her stomach seemed to settle, gurgling. It made her feel ill, still, but maybe she was just so hungry that it was having an effect on her senses between sick and hungry. She hazarded a few more bites as Damien came and sat nearby, gesturing at...
At?
She pushed herself up a little, sliding her legs beneath herself before she plunked to the side, blankets around her shoulders.
"I may need some refreshers...but a mix of both would be safest, probably." After all, the noise of a gunshot would draw the attention of both living and dead.
The blonde breathed deeply and ate a few more bites after noting where Damien looked. Not a lot... And all she'd been able to bring was beef jerky, which was probably still in her bag at the side of the bed. She felt guilty, but it wasn't like she'd had food to bring.
Her chin jerked up, eyes moving further at his words.
"But you stayed, anyway? Instead of going to find David and Will." She frowned a little and scooted forward. "...I think my hope was pretty much gone. The only reason I came back into Boston was to grab supplies...and maybe, I thought foolishly at the time, find you. Well."
She gave a wan smile, still a touch too pale, but...clearly better than last night.
He nodded, swallowing as he brought his eyes back to his blades.
"I...promised him, you see. After the fall. I promised him I'd look after you. When....we we got....separated, I told him. He didn't respond for a long time but....said no matter what, to promise him I'd keep looking and...take care of you."
Damien would look up at Kyrie.
"I keep my promises."
He would bring his hands back down, setting the blade back in it's spot, having examined it as he spoke. He would stand and walk over toward his duffle. He withdrew some tums- about 20 left in the tub- and would walk back over to her, offering it.
"Helped me, when i got the flu."
He'd offer it to her. Then he'd clear his throat.
"So...listen. I know it's been a very...very long time since we've seen each other, and we got along just find before the fall but...I want you to know that whatever I have, I want you to treat it like it's yours. You and I will be...spending the next several weeks or months getting across the country. We should be comfortable with each other and our stuff."
Kyrie just blinked and stared, her mind obviously processing. Then she nodded with a grateful curve of her lips.
Of course he kept his promises.
He always did.
She nibbled at the food again, testing the limits of her stomach for the moment until she blinked at the rattle of..? Kyrie looked up, both startled and curious, and slowly reached out for the tums.
"Thank you..." She curled her fingers around them, the utensil in the can to free up her hand. The blonde shifted slowly, to the side, and pressed the stopper open with her thumb and a slight exhale. Ugh. Little harder than it should have been. She carefully shook two tums out onto the blanket before closing the lid with a slight snap. Her chin lifted and she offered the bottle back, slowly crunching the two tablets after she had the container out of her hands - either by him taking it back or her setting it on the bed - before swallowing.
"Okay... Even though I do not have much, the same applies." She slowly pat the bed, though she left it up to him whether he wanted to sit next to her and all of her germs...though she may not have been contagious anymore. She'd been sick for a few days, after all. Her stomach still made the occasional gurgle, but she figured it was clear that between the tums and food, it was starting to settle. "...part of me still does not believe this is real."
She flexed her fingers against the can. Warm metal. The taste of food, and the tums. The feeling of the blanket. It all had an ethereal quality to it, despite the realness of it all at the same time.
"But I am so, so glad it is." She paused, looking down at herself, her state of disarray...and wrinkled her nose. "...any chance of hot water? I...stink of sickness."
Shauna Kelly: That helped, thank you
Oct 4, 2021 14:40:44 GMT -5
Ayita Hunt: dang, January was my last post.. Jeez it's been a hot minute. o7 guys, sorry for the complete disappearance, life got.. a little interesting this year.
Oct 18, 2021 22:34:19 GMT -5