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Post by Dexter Adams on Apr 8, 2017 0:51:45 GMT
Once the sun had vanished over the horizon, the light sensitive introvert known as Dexter left the safety of his dark sanction for the daily routine of scouting Iona for necessary supplies. Considering he wasn't in a particularly social mood, he decided it was best to escape the city streets and retreat into the country. Besides that, he had not been outside of Nootau for a long time. Thus, with a cautiously planned route he was prepared to head out rather far from his precious home base, however, such things were necessary and with summer inching closer and closer the amount of opportunities to venture such distances were growing rather slim. Dexter had carefully planned everything, even an emergency place to stay should he get caught in the vicious sunlight. For today's adventure, the introvert's attire consisted of a dark grey hoodie, a simple pair of sweatpants, dark coloured backpack and the always necessary amber-tinted goggles that somewhat protected his dark blue eyes from illumination. As the red-head walked down the hole-ridden roads that lead him outside of Nootau a brisk night breeze ruffled his hair and clothing. The night was cold, but it seemed that the more he left the comfort of his home for the chilly embrace of night air, the more he adapted to the feeling. He kept walking, almost as though the breeze didn't even touch him. Sometimes he wondered if his umbrakinetic abilities had something to due with his newly found indifference to the cold. It was an unlikely theory, but still he pondered the idea from time to time; although the idea would always be foiled by the fact that Iona was warming up with the coming of summer. Dexter shoved his hands into his sweater pocket while he approached the Peterson Farm. The broken, old farmhouse, machinery and barn always seemed like an absolutely perfect location for a horror movie. Nature had long settled in and took over the buildings and machines ever since the farm fell into disrepair. Cautiously, Dexter began scanning his surroundings to make certain that no mutated animals were lurking around, which was an easy task due to his night vision. Thank goodness the gift had some perks! The introvert turned down the lane, or at least the insignificant patches of dirt that was once the farm's lane. Obviously, nobody had maintained the dirt path that lead up to the farmhouse's front porch. About halfway down the path, Dexter paused to glance around at the wide stretch of property. He could only presume that the farm would look scarier to those who couldn't see through the darkness. Dexter spared glanced towards the crescent moon that was like a claw of light within the confines of the sky. It had not raised too high into the night sky, which was a fortunate thing for the light sensitive man. Quickly, he looked away from the bright crescent as it slowly began to bother his darkness preferring eyes. Dexter returned to surveying the property and debating exactly where he wanted to go, in the end the barn seemed like the best bet. The introvert turned off the path and began to walk hastily towards his destination, there was simply no time to waste on any loitering when the sun was your mortal enemy! A wooden fence with missing boards surrounded the face of the barn, its gate wide open in welcome to visitors. When Dexter approached the barn, the doors were open slightly and the right one was practically hanging off its hinges while the left had a large hole right in the center. The red paint was chipped and holes aplenty graced the outer walls of the unfortunate building. For a few moments he merely stood at the threshold to make certain that entering the neglected building wouldn't collapse. It was rather surprising the rickety, old barn hadn't toppled over when Madman rained upon Iona! Once he was assured the barn probably would not be toppling over, or at least tonight, Dexter slowly entered the battered building. Various stalls lined the walls that probably held different types of animals when the farm was still operational. The introvert exhaled a deep breathe as his eyes glanced about the inside of the wooden building. Finally, his hands slid out from the warmth of his pockets as he made his way towards the first stall to examine what long forgotten treasures somebody may have left.
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Inactive
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Whatever happens, happens.
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I joined in January 1970. I've made 17 posts and threads.
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Post by Mia Valentine on Apr 8, 2017 6:37:37 GMT
[GoogleFont=Montserrat] [attr="class","mmk1"] | i don’t know when love became elusive. what i know is that no one i know has it. my father's arms around my mother's neck, fruit too ripe to eat, a door half way open – when your name is just a hand i can never hold, everything i have ever believed in becomes magic. |
She has always imagined taking refuge in a barn loft, like one of those gunslinging vigilantes in her old novels. Now that the world's ended, she she can safely cross that item off her bucket list, she thinks, flinging herself bodily into the hay above the main floor. It's a lot less comfortable than she'd thought it'd be, but she soon grows accustomed to the constant tickle at her nose and skin. The air here is warm and dry, the sun but a sliver of gold peeking through the cracks in the ceiling. Specters sweep lazily by in soft swirls of dust, and Mia watches them with slits for eyes before she turns and presses her face into the straw beneath her. There is no place for ghosts here, but she finds herself inviting them closer all the same, lids falling closed to the hum of a voice she can't quite recall. She only realizes that she'd fallen asleep when she awakens to the cold touch of night. By then, it's too late to go find another place to sleep, but there doesn't seem to be any harm in sticking around, so she buries herself deeper into the straw. And sneezes. Ugh, there's more to this haystack-sleeping thing than it seems. And then she stills, intuition blaring an alarm in her head. Someone is here, someone in the dark that she can't see. A fellow traveler looking for a place to stay? No, it's too dark. Tonight is the night of an old moon, and nothing good ever wanders around in the dark. Realizing that the rustling straw would give her position away, Mia keeps still, ears pricked. The intruder seems to be a little ways below her, and she'll only have one chance to have the advantage of surprise. Muscles tense, coiling beneath her skin before snapping out to shoot the girl out of her loft. Eyes narrowed to strain against the dark, she descends upon the vague outline of a person with her leg raised in a kick, hoping that it would be over quick. ooc | tags Dexter Adams notes lord, i'd burn myself out if i wrote as much as you, sorry ;; |
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Gifted
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If you want to role-play with me, feel free to PM me~!
Chibi Magician |
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I joined in January 1970. I've made 51 posts and threads.
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Post by Dexter Adams on Apr 9, 2017 3:09:45 GMT
The stillness and silence hung similar to a thick mist within the confines of the barn. All of it was something a night owl like Dexter had grown accustomed to and had even come to appreciate. It merely proved the superior solitary and quietness of night to the crowded hustling of daylight. The aged wood of the barn floor creaked a soft protest beneath his feet as he cautiously moved about the rundown barn. There was work to be accomplished, but walking about a neglected building after the horrific raining of bombs without some form of care seemed like an abysmal idea. Each motion was slow as Dexter turned into the first stall, his hand running across the rough surface of the wood. The rotted wood did not dare to threaten him with the idea of a splinter, it had long grown too old for that. A noise sounded, something rather small that caught Dexter's attention. The introvert stiffened upon hearing it, it sounded like a sneeze. For a few moments he stood nearly motionless, his eyes scanning around the barn. Alas, there seemed to be nothing peculiar about; perhaps it was his imagination enjoying a trick. He returned his sights back towards the animal stall and began looking over what was inside. Cardboard boxes lined themselves against the walls and each box was in terrible condition with stains coating their outsides and some obtaining holes. Gloves would have been an excellent item to bring, but Dexter had not even thought about the useful item and even after all of his meticulous planning. A sigh of annoyance escaped his mouth and left a mental note for himself to find some gloves. Before Dexter could even begin to work, a rustle sounded from atop and when he glanced upwards towards the hayloft the discovery of company was made. As expected, the introvert hardly got the chance to make a proper analysis of his opponent, but they looked like a younger survivor. There was hardly a moment to think, but out of sheer instinct the introvert stumbled back and his umbrakinesis acted up. He had grown use to protecting himself with the lurking darkness after all. A layer of think darkness formed a solid shield while its master tumbled to the ground in surprise while uttering a swear beneath his breath. Dexter narrowly caught himself, his eyes looking at the condensed shadows as he attempted to comprehend what had just occurred. He glanced through the shadow shield, his night vision eyes making the shield more transparent than it would be for most individuals. This seemed like the beginnings of a fight, which was the last thing that Dexter had expected after entering the battered barn. Immediately his guard raised as he prepared for another possible attack; he had no intentions of allowing this person to surprise him again. WORDS: 478 TAGS: Mia ValentineNOTES: Don't worry about it. :3 I tend to go overboard with my word count. Also, sorry, was tired. ^^' |
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Inactive
plotter
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Whatever happens, happens.
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I joined in January 1970. I've made 17 posts and threads.
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Post by Mia Valentine on Apr 10, 2017 8:01:35 GMT
[GoogleFont=Montserrat] [attr="class","mmk1"] | i don’t know when love became elusive. what i know is that no one i know has it. my father's arms around my mother's neck, fruit too ripe to eat, a door half way open – when your name is just a hand i can never hold, everything i have ever believed in becomes magic. |
Something unexpectedly even slaps against her feet, but her impact does nothing to mask the softly grunted curse beneath her – a sign of intelligence. It sounds distinctly male and human and – most important of all – coherent, which is all Mia needs to withhold her next attack. A tight flip backwards off the surface she had come in contact with returns her to the wooden floor of the barn, the entire structure groaning under her weight. She lands low in a crouch on all fours, knees bent and hands splayed, spine curled like a bristling cat on the prowl. The lack of immediate offensive responses from her opponent gives her hope for a more peaceful resolution, so with equal parts caution and cajolery, as if to tame a wild beast, she parts her lips and lets her words disarm rather than her legs and fists. "Easy there, friend. Sorry for the lack of warning. You just never know what shady thing's skulkin' around in the dark, and well, it was dark."Her apology is one of nonchalance, sweetened with just enough sheepishness to add sincerity to her claim of remorse. The insinuating demand for justification that underlies her words is far more acrid, if dulled by the cream and sugar. Though there is no sign of hostility or blood lust, Mia has yet to find reason to trust that this shadowy stranger means her no harm. ooc | tags Dexter Adams notes no worries at all, take your time!! |
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Gifted
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Post by Dexter Adams on Apr 13, 2017 0:25:51 GMT
Naturally being attacked by an unknown person would brew up concerns in anybody, and Dexter was no different. The attack first ask questions later was a fair strategy especially when somebody couldn't sense their surroundings. The smack against his shield of shadows caused the introvert's attention to focus back to the problem at hand. He watched as the agile form flipped back and landed successfully on the barn floor. The manner of which the girl moved was impressive and was likely earned with plenty of practice. That was a little concerning to the red-head who was rather amateur with his umbrakinesis and had the absurd weakness of light. However, he felt relieved when the girl spoke with what sounded like genuine remorse. The defense to her actions was a sensible one, unlike Dexter the young girl was probably unable to see in the dark. The shadows that formed his shield disbanded as he slowly pushed himself off the floor of the ramshackle barn. The old boards whined in protest to the sudden weight, threatening to crack and break. Once on his feet again, Dexter brushed himself off. " Fair enough," he responded. " You scared me half to death though. I thought nobody was going to be lurking around in the dark, except me." Truthfully this was probably the third or fourth time and honestly Dexter was certain he should just expect people to pop out of nowhere. Dexter looked himself over, for the most part he was practically unscathed thanks to the shield, but his hands had gotten a little scrapped up. For a few moments, Dexter looked at the palms, but soon shrugged and disregarded the minor injury. It would heal in due time. Every now and again he glanced at his unexpected company, the girl had just attacked him out of the blue and although her defense was sensible it by no means gained Dexter's trust. In the apocalypse, trusting somebody easily could be a one-way ticket to the afterlife! Nothing about the person mattered if they had a method of attack and somebody's absolute trust since it would be likely to end badly. The introvert pulled at the black straps of his backpack in an attempt to adjust the bag into a better position. The items inside rustled a bit, but Dexter was rewarded when the pack sat comfortably on his shoulders again. " What brings you out here anyways? Most of this stuff seems broken, so I didn't think anyone would find a visit to this old farm worth while," Dexter asked out of curiosity. There was certainly no reason to leave an awkward silence between them, plus conversation could give away any negative motives his company had. Thus, the introvert stood attentively, his ears picking up the sounds of the barn settling as wind battered against it. WORDS: 470 TAGS: Mia Valentine NOTES: Sorry for spelling/grammar errors. Headache, so I wrote this in the dark. lol |
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Inactive
plotter
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Whatever happens, happens.
red |
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Bisexual
I joined in January 1970. I've made 17 posts and threads.
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Post by Mia Valentine on Apr 14, 2017 7:53:33 GMT
[GoogleFont=Montserrat] [attr="class","mmk1"] | i don’t know when love became elusive. what i know is that no one i know has it. my father's arms around my mother's neck, fruit too ripe to eat, a door half way open – when your name is just a hand i can never hold, everything i have ever believed in becomes magic. |
Another creaking sound of anguish from the building alerts Mia to movement, and immediately, she tenses, prepared to spring away at the slightest threat. In the brief moment it takes for her companion to gather their breath and speak their mind, the girl spares a moment to ponder the foolishness of her pacifism. A foreign voice claws her from her thoughts, her doubts dissipating as quickly as they'd come, and she straightens from her crouch. So the man has reason to be out here, in the ink pool dark of the night. He had also detected her oncoming kick with ease, or at least had enough wits about him to block. Intuition? Or is it something else? Mia suspects the latter – this man had sounded as if he doesn't need a significant source of light, if one at all. It isn't much of an answer, but it is answer enough, the girl supposes, already turning away. There is no reason for her to remain here in this dilapidated barn if she will have company while doing so. Despite the ever-present ache of loneliness that has made itself at home in the hollow of her chest, she's not so desperate for conversation that she'd speak to any sentient thing without reason. (Loneliness can be her friend now that there's nothing left.) She returns her gaze to that disembodied voice anyway, when it fires a bullet – a question – at her from the dark. "I was invited here," she says with a shrug she's unsure the other would perceive. Invited here by a dream, by drops of liquid amber on dancing dust. This she keeps close to her chest, but– "But I could ask you the same, friend. What brings you out here, to this old, broken place?" He's fishing for information, she realizes, for a reason to doubt and to fear. But two can play at that game. She has always had a flare for the cryptic and the dramatic anyway. ooc | tags Dexter Adams notes again, don't worry about a thing! hope your head's feeling better :( |
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Gifted
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Post by Dexter Adams on Apr 16, 2017 14:10:47 GMT
The atmosphere seemed to calm slightly when the realization that neither party had intentions to duel within the long neglected barn. Dexter relaxed only a minuscule amount; there could very well be some form of deception in the air yet. Keeping a vigilant awareness of his surroundings was practically mandatory nowadays. The introvert took a couple of small steps back and with each step the wooden floor gave a groan of protest against the idea. He crossed his arms while his blue eyes remained on the mysterious girl, cautiously watching for threatening behavior. The palms of his hands stung from the small scraps, but the tiny amount of pain was tolerable. Based on the events that occurred prior, Dexter knew that this girl was fast and who knew what kinds of gifts she could be hiding. Rarely the introvert crazed social interaction since alone time always seemed more desirable, however, in this situation it felt necessary. An attack from a complete stranger, even if they possessed a reason, was always a concern for anybody. Hostility was something that may have to be dealt with in the future and knowing whether or not the perpetrator of the attack plans to act similarly in the future was key. Thus, he silently listened to the girl's vague answer and immediately began reflecting on it. The answer was concerning and suggested the possibility of more survivors being in the area, which was definitely a problem should Dexter be correct. He was alone which made it an easy task to outnumber him should they desire. Perhaps it would have been a better idea to abandon the barn and head elsewhere, but it was a little late for that. With the vague answer in mind, Dexter kept the various exits in mind. Despite being absorbed in his thoughts he managed to caught the question that had been fired back towards him; he had to admit that the girl had a fair point in asking. " Just scavenging like everybody else would be," Dexter said with a shrug. The answer was simple, but he felt there was still a chance more questions would be created from it; specifically ones about why he was scavenging at such a time. The light sensitive introvert preferred not to mention his complications with light since it was always vexing to know that other people had such information in their grasp. Light made him vulnerable and often brought forth a torrent of pain alongside a frightful blindness. Dexter paused for a moment before inquiring about his next concern. " So, who exactly invited you here? If you don't mind me asking. I can leave if you need me to." If more survivors were going to arrive at the barn, the introvert figured it would be best to abandon his supply run and opt for avoiding the possible other people.
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