Post by Deleted on Jun 5, 2016 11:55:08 GMT -5
Some time had passed since Fable had left Mark in the capable hands of a small group of people. She had taken nothing but her empty messenger bag and her small knife. She had needed to leave him...not because she wanted to, but because of the danger she put him in. He had only known her two days and almost died, he would have a long recovery but the group had capable doctors....at least that's what she kept telling herself. She had made her a home in an old state building of some sort...maybe a courthouse...it was hard to say. Times hadn't been easy, not that they ever were. But she missed him. The pain for her mothers death had been different...her mother was dead. Mark wasn't.....he was probably less than fifteen minutes away if she were to walk...and somehow that made it worse.
She was sitting on the massive marble steps that led into her 'home'. Not moving enough to draw the attention of the stray walker that shambled past. Fable almost felt numb to the world....everything was different now....After living so long alone a simple connection with someone else had shown her what she was missing. It wasn't as if she could join a group. No one would allow her to stay once her blood disorder was discovered. She was a liability and could pass out any time for pretty much no reason. She wasn't physically strong.....And she was pregnant.
It had just been a suspicion at first....but then as time passed it became an undeniable fact. A single frail hand fell to slide over the slight bump of her stomach. At this point she didn't 'look' pregnant.....but she was already feeling the effects of it. The morning sickness was rough....and it not just in the mornings. She felt weaker than ever....some days it was hard to push herself to get up and search for food. She had added a handgun to her weaponry...but of course had no bullets. Her life was pretty bleak at this point in time.
She was constantly worried about the state of the baby.....if her blood disorder would affect him or her......what she was going to do when it came time to deliver.... Her face was nearly white, dark rings circled her pale blue eyes. She could go back to Mark.....but what if something happened to him? What if he didn't want the baby?...What then?
She closed her eyes and leaned against the metal railing of the steps with a soft groan. She was starving, having looted every location near her....she was going to have to expand her search....and that meant more risk...more walking...more chances to pass out in a dangerous place.
The walker that had been aimlessly bumping into an old car had heard her groan and turned, slowly ambling towards her. She slowly opened her eyes, not in the least surprised by the dead thing that had her in its sights. But steps were a bit complicated for him. He stumbled and began pulling himself up the stairs with his arms. She blinked, the reality that she was going to have to move setting in. But for some reason she waited....waited until he was grabbing at her ankle. Maybe it was the desire to feel something other than overwhelming sadness......maybe she wished it was all over. But she scooted her foot out of his reach, taking her knife out of her pocket she waited until he leaned his head forward. Slamming the small knife with as much strength as she could muster down into his skull. His head fell to the step, decrepit teeth clamping together on a rotting tongue which of course fell off to roll against her foot.
A look of horror crossed her face and she turned to wretch in the bushes beside the steps. She coughed, rubbing the back of her hand over her mouth. Kicking at the tongue until it bounced down the steps and into the street. She could hear something else nearby....another walker most likely. She gripped her knife and yanked it from his head. Unable to see much of anything coming from either side thanks to the overgrown bushes.....but whatever it was had undoubtedly seen the magical bouncing tongue.
She was sitting on the massive marble steps that led into her 'home'. Not moving enough to draw the attention of the stray walker that shambled past. Fable almost felt numb to the world....everything was different now....After living so long alone a simple connection with someone else had shown her what she was missing. It wasn't as if she could join a group. No one would allow her to stay once her blood disorder was discovered. She was a liability and could pass out any time for pretty much no reason. She wasn't physically strong.....And she was pregnant.
It had just been a suspicion at first....but then as time passed it became an undeniable fact. A single frail hand fell to slide over the slight bump of her stomach. At this point she didn't 'look' pregnant.....but she was already feeling the effects of it. The morning sickness was rough....and it not just in the mornings. She felt weaker than ever....some days it was hard to push herself to get up and search for food. She had added a handgun to her weaponry...but of course had no bullets. Her life was pretty bleak at this point in time.
She was constantly worried about the state of the baby.....if her blood disorder would affect him or her......what she was going to do when it came time to deliver.... Her face was nearly white, dark rings circled her pale blue eyes. She could go back to Mark.....but what if something happened to him? What if he didn't want the baby?...What then?
She closed her eyes and leaned against the metal railing of the steps with a soft groan. She was starving, having looted every location near her....she was going to have to expand her search....and that meant more risk...more walking...more chances to pass out in a dangerous place.
The walker that had been aimlessly bumping into an old car had heard her groan and turned, slowly ambling towards her. She slowly opened her eyes, not in the least surprised by the dead thing that had her in its sights. But steps were a bit complicated for him. He stumbled and began pulling himself up the stairs with his arms. She blinked, the reality that she was going to have to move setting in. But for some reason she waited....waited until he was grabbing at her ankle. Maybe it was the desire to feel something other than overwhelming sadness......maybe she wished it was all over. But she scooted her foot out of his reach, taking her knife out of her pocket she waited until he leaned his head forward. Slamming the small knife with as much strength as she could muster down into his skull. His head fell to the step, decrepit teeth clamping together on a rotting tongue which of course fell off to roll against her foot.
A look of horror crossed her face and she turned to wretch in the bushes beside the steps. She coughed, rubbing the back of her hand over her mouth. Kicking at the tongue until it bounced down the steps and into the street. She could hear something else nearby....another walker most likely. She gripped her knife and yanked it from his head. Unable to see much of anything coming from either side thanks to the overgrown bushes.....but whatever it was had undoubtedly seen the magical bouncing tongue.