KEEP IT QUIET, tag: Mikey

[Lucas Shaw]

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Down in the valley the calm trees are swaying in time
Over the hills where the mountains are tumbling down

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Food. Food... Food. Lucas couldn't stop thinking about it. He felt like one of those zombies roaming around the streets looking for their next meal. A nice meal was the only thing on his mind right now, and it didn't make it any better that his stomach was rumbling quite loudly. The boy glared down at his stomach, urging it with his mind to calm down. If it were grumbling any louder, it'd probably be attracting a lot of unwanted attention. Yes, it was that loud. Or so Lucas would love to have you think. He was always one for exaggeration; it was an easy thing to do in order to get the attention that he usually craved. For example, if he ran into anyone on his little scavenging adventure, he'd play the pity card, exaggerate and tell them that he hadn't eaten in days. Of course that didn't usually garner any useful results; people only cared about themselves these days. Although, Lucas had no room to talk.<p>

He was the biggest coward he knew. He would willingly admit it, too. He wasn't even brave enough to use a gun. Instead, he carried a baseball bat with him at all times. As a result, there was just no way he would voluntarily look after someone other than himself. Besides. He wasn't very capable of doing that in the first place, so why bother? A sly grin crept onto his face then; he always seemed to be able to slip out of sticky situations like that, so these days it was normally easy to avoid them. In fact, that's what he was banking on today. He hated having to go out and look for the tiniest scrap of food alone, but every so often he deemed it necessary. That is, when he hadn't had a job that paid very well. Normally after small treks, the employer would give him enough food to last a while- he could ration things quite well, so he didn't have to go scrounging for things too often. <p>

Unfortunately, today was not one of those days. His supplies were drying up, slowly but surely, so today he had bravely (using the term loosely, of course) ventured out of his temporary shelter in hopes to find something that would last him just a little while longer. He had been in this area before, though, and he knew there wasn't much to see. However, at the moment, Lucas stared down the length of a culdesac to which he had never been. Had he come from a different direction today? Or had he taken his usual route, through the backyards and over the remainders of wooden fences? His eyebrows raised; he knew where he was, location-wise, he just wanted to know how he had gotten here without realizing it. The boy glanced down at his stomach again and muttered a few curse words toward it. It was its fault he was so distracted today. It always wanted food. Couldn't it realize that there just wasn't a lot of that to go around? Don't worry, my little stomach, his mind cooed. Today is your lucky day.<p>

With that, he approached the first house on the right. He had a system today, albeit a little simple, in that he'd visit each house, going from right to left. Therefore, it only made sense that he'd start with the first. Lucas ignored his grumbling stomach for now, got a better grip on his bat (just in case) and entered the house. It was nice, at one time, he could tell. It was two stories, and immediately he headed for the stairs. He'd work his way from the top to bottom. He stepped onto the first step, testing its strength, then the next, and the next. It seemed sturdy enough, although a little creaky, so he continued to step up slowly, until he had reached the top. The top floor was spacious. To the left was a large room complete with a huge flat-screen television (the screen was completely shattered) and a couch with one of the cushions missing. To his right, Lucas could see a bedroom, and in front of him was a hallway with three doors: two on the right, one on the left. <p>

Lucas started by entering the larger room to the left. His eyes widened, taking in a plethora of electronics. The large television was what drew his attention, but there was a smaller television off to the side. Hooked up to both were a number of gaming systems, and huge speakers. Before the whole zombie thing, the people living here had good. It didn't seem to hold anything useful, though. Grimacing, Lucas turned to leave the room, when something in the corner caught his eye. A refrigerator? The grimace vanished and Lucas sped to the corner, kneeling so he could nearly rip the medium-sized door off its hinges. His dark brown eyes hastily searched the top shelf. Nothing. Second shelf: nothing. He held his breath as he moved to the third and final shelf: Jackpot. Okay, so maybe not jackpot, but there were two Snickers and a Butterfinger. Lucas nearly squealed in delight. It wasn't a meal, by any means, but it would keep him alive for the time being. <p>

Lucas shoved the candy bars into his pocket and stood, ready to search through the other rooms, but paused when he heard some sort of noise coming from downstairs. His stomach dropped like a rock. Shit, he swore, drawing out the 'i' so the word lasted a good second or two. He should have closed the door when he entered the house. He should have locked it. Damn his stomach for making all the decisions. It was going to get him killed one of these days, he just had a feeling. With a deep breath, Lucas gripped his bat as tight as he could with both hands, ready to swing it if anything sprung out of nowhere. He walked to the top of the stairs. Nothing could be seen. Awesome. I have to risk my neck just to get a bite to eat. He sighed, sneaking down a few steps. Much to his distress, the fourth step creaked rather loudly. Lucas froze in his tracks, happy he couldn't see anyone from where he was standing. What was it exactly that was invading his temporary safe place? He wanted desperately to know where the noise originated, but he wasn't a big enough idiot to call out for a response. There could be multiple of... whatever it was down there. He wasn't going to die simply because he asked 'who's there.'<p>

So, for the time being, he stood as still as a statue, waiting for whoever it was to just go away.

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tag: mikey; words: 1156;

credit wasted youth! notes: This is a little long. xD But the noise could be anything, zombie or just mikey. c:</div>[/dohtml]

[Maik Anders]

the harvest left no food for you to eat

In a broken world, exploring was nice. It could get you mauled, eaten, torn apart, and pretty much just killed in a pretty painful way in general – but other than that, it was nice. It was an exercise to wander through the crumbling mess and try to imagine the life it might have held before everything went to the pits. Suburbia was probably the best place for it. Giant businesses with their broken neon signs and useless money scattered were all well and good, it's where everyone worked and made their living and enjoyed themselves or hated themselves, but homes were where the personal things rested. Each little cookie-cutter house carried trinkets and possessions that were either too worthless to save or too important to leave behind. It made him curious, incredibly so.


The cul-de-sac that he wandered down was familiar in its sense of community. It was quiet, eerily so, the silence broken only by the soft tap-tap-tap of the end of his baseball bat dragging along the asphalt behind him. The hammer responsible for the few blood-encrusted nails embedded into its head rested hooked in his belt at his side, trusty and occasionally handy. On the other side, a gun sat equally hooked in his belt, utterly useless in its unloaded state, but still with its potential. Plus, it kind of made him feel like a cowboy. He'd found bullets, a handful of them sitting neglected and idle in his pocket, but he felt semi-positive that certain guns required certain bullets. He might have heard that somewhere, on television or in a book. Mother had never been a gun-woman, and so he'd never thought to become a gun-man. The end of the world kind of brought about those particular dormant thoughts. Of course, even if the bullets that he had found and kept were any good for the gun that he toted, he wouldn't know for sure how to load it up. At this point, he was just collecting things.


The place reminded him of the neighborhood that Mother had brought him to after the hospital. It had been gated in, the houses had been considerably larger, and the fences had been far more imposing in their responsibility of keeping every bit of privacy separated from another bit. This had been a nice kind of community once upon a time. It was the sort of place where kids could play in the street, husbands could mow their lawns at the same time like some kind of bonding moment, and the wives could chit-chat from the safety of their porches because homes were simply that neatly tucked together. Blood smears in the driveway probably weren't part of that life.


He didn't hesitate to walk up to the first house and step inside, the door conveniently unlocked and even ajar. Of course, when rushing out to the car to drive away in the hope of saving your life, locking the door behind you was probably a pretty low priority. How many people had forgotten to even close the door behind them? How many people had left the oven on? … did anybody turn around to return and check? A soft chuckle escaped him as he grinned at his thoughts, closing the door politely behind him and rubbing his feet on the welcome mat just inside. It was the courteous thing to do. Someone had lived here once upon a time and they'd tried to keep this place clean. They'd probably tried to keep strangers out too, but you win some and you lose some. Satisfied that he'd not be tracking much dirt into the home, seeming somehow ignorant of the broken glass and filth everywhere else, he stepped inside, eyes warily skimming over the inside as he veered to the right to enter a living area. A pretty ironic area, all things considered.


Leaning his makeshift cruddy nailbat against the arm of the couch, he immediately scurried over to an entertainment system pushed along the wall. There was a nice sized television propped inside, albeit a shattered one, and the bottom cabinets were probably filled with abandoned DVDs and the like – but that wasn't the focus of it. Every cubbyhole of the wooden creation was filled with picture frames carrying memories. Many were knocked over, others had fallen, nearly all of them were broken – but pictures were still there. The floor creaked softly beneath his stride and then glass crunched beneath the step of heavy boots, but he paid it all little mind as he daintily picked up the first picture carried inside a metal frame. A woman stared back at him, laugh lines at the corners of red lips and vivid red hair in a short bob. In her arms, there was a baby, fast asleep and completely unsuspecting. There was a name stitched neatly into the blanket that the infant was wrapped in, but, even despite too much squinting, he couldn't make it out. Shame. He looked like a Nathan though.


With a small hum of consideration, he lifted his eyes up to latch on to another portrait, one of an older girl with braces and the murky background that only belonged to professional shots. She had the same red hair as the woman he could only assume was her mother and it was all carefully pulled into adorable pigtails. He moved a hand out to reach for it as well, to pull it closer, but he paused mid-motion at the sound of a creak filling up the silence. For a moment, he glanced down as if to check if the creak had been his own but then he was turning slightly to glance over his shoulder. The house still seemed empty, lonely and uninviting in its decay, but now there was a presence that he couldn't shake. He waited for a minute, waiting for more. A zombie surely wouldn't be so quiet or so patient. Another hum of consideration left him as his hand abandoned its task to drop down to pull the hammer out of his belt, adjusting his grip upon the leather handle. The stairs filled up his attentions and he leaned over as if he might be able to see what was up on the second floor from his position. “ … 'elloo?” He uttered, clearing his throat after the word. It felt sticky in his throat. “A... anyone there?” He tried again, a little louder and no less sticky. Words weren't his friend, but how else was one to know if someone was there or not if they didn't ask?

you cannibal, you meat-eater, you see

[Lucas Shaw]

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Down in the valley the calm trees are swaying in time
Over the hills where the mountains are tumbling down

</div><div style="width:400px; height: 380px; background-color: bbbbbb; background: url(http://i51.tinypic.com/1174oz6.jpg);"><div style="width: 360px; height: 370px; overflow: auto; text-align:justify; font-family:times; line-height:120%; font-size:10px; color: 000000; background-color:efefef;">

Standing there, as still as a statue, was taking its toll on him. Don't get him wrong; he had spent an innumerable amount of hours cowering in a dark closet, an empty pantry, or something else that was equally as claustrophobia-inducing. But this was different. Here he had to focus on standing stark still so no one/thing would hear him, yet at the same time it was necessary for him to be ready to move suddenly and face an attacker. Enough so that he would be able to survive, anyway. Lucas pressed his lips into a hard line; it felt as though all of his energy was pooling in his hands. Absently he wondered what would happen if he let go of the bat. Would the adrenaline he was feeling (he assumed that's what it was; he couldn't be bothered to figure it out) wear off and cause him to collapse? <p>

No! He wouldn't let that happen. Just stay focused! Before you know it, you'll be at the hideout eating those delicious melted candy bars. That'll keep stomach satisfied for a while. And then you can- Lucas blinked hard twice, stopping himself from getting off track anymore than he already was. Focusing on the food seemed to do the trick, though: he felt a surge of energy and hope- hope that he would be able actually get the chance to eat, and hope that he would have the strength to defeat whatever it was that was downstairs. In fact, this somehow made him grow excited, and he was honestly (if you took the time to ask him anyway) about to jump down the flight of stairs and swing his bat wildly. However, something caught him off guard, making him stop once again.<p>

That something, the cause of him freezing on the spot, was a spoken word, wondering out loud if he wasn't alone in the otherwise abandoned house. Lucas thought he was frozen, but that was not the case. He quickly realized he had been moving a very small distance- he had unknowingly creeped down two steps before the voice called out once again. He pressed his lips even tighter together, admittedly afraid to do much else. And his brain wasn't very encouraging, either. He couldn't help but think the owner of that voice also owned a gun. He could picture it clearly: the man- boy? whatever it was it was male, without a doubt- aiming steadily toward the staircase, ready to fire as soon as he glimpsed a human-like figure. That's what Lucas would do, anyway. Or, rather, he would panic as soon as he saw the outline of a person and accidentally shoot. That was one of the reasons he would never carry a gun. Besides the fact that he would be too scared to use one, of course.<p>

Lucas swallowed hard at that moment, attempting to gather up any amount of courage he could. It took a few moments, but he was finally able to speak. "Yeah," he shouted stupidly. He could hear the hesitance in his own voice. That put yet another thought into his mind. He couldn't act frightened! Then the guy would undoubtedly want to take his things. Stealing from cowards was almost always easier than stealing from someone who put up a fight. So, Lucas threw on a determined look and continued, "Yeah, I'm up here. Was just looking around for anything interesting." That was only part true. The only thing interesting that was worth finding anymore was food. The young man felt his stomach growl viciously at the thought of something edible, something flavorful. Just a little longer... With a little luck, you'll be able to waltz past him without confrontation. Though, that didn't seem too likely.<p>

"I'm gonna come down the stairs now," Lucas warned as clearly as possible, happy to sound slightly more confident than before. He stepped down slowly, coming down another two steps. "Don't shoot me on sight or anything," he added, just to be sure. As if him asking nicely would stop him anyway. Lucas laughed inwardly, but kept moving. Soon the other male came into view, and Lucas was slightly surprised to find no barrel pointing in his direction. He allowed one hand to let go of the bat; it fell to his side. The other, his left, also dropped to his side, but the bat made a loud thump when it hit the stair. He jumped slightly, not expecting the noise. Nevertheless he ignored the mishap in an attempt to seem unfazed, and quickly looked to the other man. His eyes fell on the hammer, and he relaxed slightly. It seemed as though they were evenly matched, weapon wise. Unless of course this guy knew how to fist fight. Because Lucas sure as hell didn't. "What are you doing in here?" he finally asked dumbly, only because he couldn't think of anything clever or sarcastic to say.

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tag: mikey; words: 823;

credit wasted youth! notes: :3</div>[/dohtml]

[Maik Anders]

so tie me to a post and block my ears

His eyebrows rose as he received a reply. So definitely not a zombie. They didn't speak. They did sort of reply, but not in words. They offered mostly grunts and gurgles and raspy howls. Who knew the dead to be so noisy? Either way, they didn't speak – and whoever was up those stairs, they clearly did speak; therefore, not a zombie. That was a relief. It was pretty stressful stuff, running into zombies. Blinking, he continued to stare at the stairs, waiting for this disembodied voice to make an appearance. Instead, it only spoke some more, prompting him to lean over more to the side in the vain effort to see up the steps without having to move from his spot. It wasn't possible, but he could imagine.The voice was male though, he knew that much, and it was grown. No kid was yelling back at him. It probably didn't belong to anybody who had lived here once upon a time. The occupants of this house probably wouldn't speak ever again. … or they'd grunt, gurgle, or howl. Which wasn't really conducive to carrying a conversation of any form, but now he was getting off-track.


Back to the disembodied voice.


In a weird sort of way, he felt rather giddy at the prospect of the owner of said voice coming down the stairs. He straightened up, hazel eyes still watching the stairway in wait. He was painfully oblivious to the tension crackling in the air, ignorant of the nerves littered all throughout that warning voice. In fact, there was a smile now tucked warmly into the corners of his mouth, the sort of expectant smile that comes across a person when they're listening to a friend tell a joke that they just know will end with an absolutely hilarious punchline. In this case? Well, he supposed the punchline would be finally getting to see the man behind the curtain. A chuckle escaped beneath his breath as he was warned not to shoot on sight “or anything”, his eyes immediately dropping down to the empty gun in his belt. For a moment, he considered pulling it to aim, but the person on the other end of the barrel wouldn't know it was useless and such humour would probably not be appreciated in this day and age. So he left it be and simply returned his eyes back to the stairs to wait some more. Excitement bubbled in his gut as he spotted legs first, and he couldn't help himself as he leaned slightly over to the side once more.


The bat in the man's hands promptly dropped as his arms fell to his side, the weapon thwomping against the steps and the stranger jumped, all of which prompted Maik to jump slightly and straighten right back up, smile still sitting dumbly on his face and his eyes wide as he looked the other man over. He seemed small, kind of stringy, relatively well kept, and not at all zombie-ish. Which was a good thing. His eyebrows rose again at the question bluntly directed at him. What was he doing in there? His smile slipped slightly as the gears of his simple mind tumbled over an answer. “I... Looking. I was – looking f- for... interesting, anything. Um...” He cleared his throat as he fumbled slowly, his features furrowing together in determined concentration as he ducked his head down to look to what was still in his hand. Immediately, his brow smoothed out and he was quickly looking back to the man, holding the picture frame up and then angling himself slightly to gesture to the chaotic display behind him, looking over it himself. “P-p- … pictures.” He pushed out, smiling broadly as he looked to each one. There was a man, there was a woman, there a little baby boy and his older gawky sister. It was a nice family. They were all smiling and normal and happy and alive. All of the portraits at his Mother's home had been professional and dull, and none of them had been of him.


Hand still lifted idly up, gripping the frame and gesturing loosely to the others, he turned his head to look back to the other man, curiosity in his gaze. “Wwww-wut'd'you... find?”

i can see widows and orphans in my tears

[Lucas Shaw]

[dohtml]<div style="width: 400px; height: 250px; background: url(http://i211.photobucket.com/albums/bb7/raisetheroooff/Other/Jay/8dec31684972aa1f96b41c332c6d-1.jpg); -moz-border-radius: 300 300 0 0; -webkit-border-radius: 300 300 0 0;"></div><div style="width:400px; line-height: 150%; font-face:georgia; text-transform:uppercase; font-size:8px; background-color:343434; color: 888888; letter-spacing: 3px;">

Down in the valley the calm trees are swaying in time
Over the hills where the mountains are tumbling down

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Lucas watched the mysterious stranger, noticing the smile that seemed to be ever-present. Even when he jumped at the sound of the bat hitting the step, he still smiled. Which, naturally, planted a seed of doubt (not to mention unease) in his own mind. Perhaps that was because everyone he had met since the apocalypse began did not normally smile. Sure, they'd grin every now and then if something humorous or heartfelt happened, but to smile upon meeting someone? No. He just hadn't seen it happen. People, including himself, were too wary to be so glad over something so insignificant; most strangers were out there ready and willing to kill for whatever supplies another may have. It was a savage enough world, what with the Infected running around the town; he, or anyone else for that matter, didn't have time to worry about the muggers and scavengers waiting around the corner to ambush the unfortunate passerby.<p>

So Lucas was still hesitant to be so friendly, or even smile in return. Once he had spoken, he stood there, anxious to receive some sort of reply from the young man. Would he answer truthfully? Or would he make an attempt at being crafty and tell nothing but lies? Well, Lucas could only assume that the guy was looking for food. What else would there be to take? Blankets or a raggedy pillow, maybe, but food was the most likely answer. So when the other male began speaking, he listened closely, interested in the answer. But... it seemed as though the stranger didn't know how to speak correctly. Or he had a stuttering problem. Or something. Lucas was definitely going to comment on that, too, but his eyes fell on the holstered gun at the other man's hip and he suddenly (and for once...) found himself unable to share his opinion on that matter. <p>

But then the young man said something about pictures, gesturing to the scene beyond him. Still smiling, Lucas automatically thought, raising an eyebrow. He wasn't sure if he completely understood what the man meant. He was here for... pictures? Not food? Not supplies? Pictures were something sentimental. Why would a stranger carry around a family portrait that wasn't his own? Unless this guy killed the family... No, they had probably been long gone for quite some time now. Lucas still didn't know what to think, so he might as well ask before his mind went a little too out of control. "Did you live here or something?" he asked, still a bit clueless. Maybe this was his home now, and he had "made friends" with the images of the family that used to live here? Maybe he was crazy. Maybe he talked to the pictures. Lucas's mind just wouldn't stop with the possibilities. "Or are you just a collector?" He snickered at that point, somehow able to forget the gun and make a joke. <p>

The man spoke again, and Lucas was surprised to find that he actually understood the question being asked. He wanted to know what Lucas found. Lucas pursed his lips in thought; this was where he was supposed to lie, right? Honesty wasn't the best policy when there was a slight chance that he might be getting mugged. And although the stranger didn't seem to be too threatening, he still possessed the gun that could hurt or kill from a distance. Lucas had a bat. Clearly he would be outmatched, and he just didn't want to risk it. "Didn't find much useful." Other than the two precious candy bars, there really wasn't anything that he had much use for. "There's a couple huge TV's up there, along with a couple gaming systems." Lucas shrugged. "I only checked one room, though. There might be some blankets or pillows hidden in one of the bedrooms, I dunno." He also didn't know if the guy would be interested in that sort of thing, but he might as well offer, right?<p>

"You're free to check it out, man," he offered, pointing a thumb in the general upstairs direction. He took another couple steps down the stairs, ready to be out of this situation and out the door. He didn't think he'd be adhering to his original plan of action anymore, either. Rather, he would just hurry back to his little shelter so he could devour the melted candy bars that were currently sitting in his pants pocket. "I..." he trailed off, unsure how to go about announcing a departure. "I think I'm done here." As he spoke, he continued to move slowly down the stairs. Finally he reached the bottom, and he turned to face the man as he passed. He kept an eye on him as he steadily backed towards the door. "You have free reign here, friend." Lucas waved lazily, although he was still wary. He hoped the man didn't try to follow him with the picture or anything. He was already suspicious enough as it was; he didn't need anything else weird happening.

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tag: mikey; words: 836;

credit wasted youth! notes: Sorry it was a bit late. I actually had homework yesterday. xD </div>[/dohtml]

[Maik Anders]

the sun, it rises slowly as you walk

It would have been nice to live there. His smile slipped just slightly in thought as he slipped his gaze off the stranger to look around the room, ultimately falling back to the pictures. It looked like it could have been a warm place. It was colourful, coordinated and, aside from the typical debris that viral apocalypse brought, it had probably been neat once upon a time. Mother's home had been neat, but that had been strict. This was cozy organization. Was there a difference? Probably. The people looked very happy. They'd have been a nice family. He didn't answer the man though. He forgot. His thoughts were distracting things. But then another question was asked and his eyebrows rose as he looked back to the stranger, the gears of his brain slowly crunching over the title. A collector? Well, he did collect things. He had a pocket full of bullets. His lips stretched back into a familiar smile, a breathy chuckle escaping him as the other man snickered. He wasn't entirely sure what was so amusing, but he followed suit anyways. “Co... llector.” He returned, chuckling lightly again as he nodded before ducking his head down to look back to the picture still in his hands. He offered another glance to the display of broken picture frames before looking back to the man in curiosity.


He must have had distracting thoughts too because it took him a moment to respond. Mikey waited patiently. He seemed to visibly perk up when the guy finally spoke. His head bobbed slightly, nodding his acknowledgment and absorbing the information as much as he could. There were TVs and gaming things and maybe other stuff, stranger had only checked out one room. It all was sorted away as idle information that he could perhaps use at some point, but didn't really seem all that important in the moment. He just wanted to talk. This guy was nice. Company that didn't grunt or gurgle or howl was pretty hard to find nowadays. At least, decent company that didn't resort to hateful screaming or ugly glares; he didn't mind all that though. The end of the world wrought by zombies tended to mess with a few people. It was a little traumatizing. He just didn't want to talk with those sorts. But this guy chattered and snickered, so that was always fun times.


“Yer done?” He spit out, just a little bit surprised. He'd just gotten there though! At least, he could only assume that he had if he'd only managed to look through one room. Maybe he didn't like huge TV's and gaming systems. And maybe he didn't need blankets or pillows. Surely there was more to be found. There was always something to be found. Did this guy once live here? Or maybe he was the skittish sort. Maybe he didn't like company. Which was kind of depressing because company was so nice, everybody should enjoy it. Many didn't, he could admit, but this guy seemed nice. He chattered and snickered. Nice people did that and nice people liked company. Right? It sort of made sense.


He glanced briefly off to the direction of the stairs, as if he'd have better luck seeing clear up them to the second floor than he had any moment before. Predictably, he did not. He looked back to the man, watching with wide curious eyes as the stranger slowly made his way to the door, walking backwards. That was a feat. He couldn't walk backwards without tripping. “You have free reign here, friend.” Friend. See? He knew this guy was nice. His smile slipped back over his features smoothly, pleased by the idle endearment in much the same way that a puppy might be with a little praise and a treat. He let go of the picture frame with one hand to lift it up, waving back to the guy as he continued towards the door. The gesture was likely meant as a good-bye sort of thing and returning it probably meant that he was acknowledging the end of their too-short interaction, but his brain didn't quite click with that. “Whe-where'ya.. going? Huh.” He asked, smile still in place and hand still lifted to wave, though it slowly began to drift back down to clutch at the picture that he was admittedly paying very little mind to now that something far more interesting had come along. This guy was actually alive, after all, and the people in the pictures were probably not. Dead people didn't make the best company.

away from all the fears and all the faults you've left behind

[Lucas Shaw]

[dohtml]<div style="width: 400px; height: 250px; background: url(http://i211.photobucket.com/albums/bb7/raisetheroooff/Other/Jay/8dec31684972aa1f96b41c332c6d-1.jpg); -moz-border-radius: 300 300 0 0; -webkit-border-radius: 300 300 0 0;"></div><div style="width:400px; line-height: 150%; font-face:georgia; text-transform:uppercase; font-size:8px; background-color:343434; color: 888888; letter-spacing: 3px;">

Down in the valley the calm trees are swaying in time
Over the hills where the mountains are tumbling down

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When the stranger simply repeated what he had said, Lucas wasn't sure if that was meant as an answer, or... if he was just repeating the word for the sake of repeating it. Lucas watched the man closely, trying to discern whether or not he was all there in the head. Obviously it would be somewhat difficult to tell simply by looking, but maybe he was unknowingly a good judge when it came to this sort of thing. Then again, he didn't often stick around a certain person long enough to get to know them that well. Unless it was a potential employer. In that case, he would have spoken more, asked the right questions, things like that. But this man wasn't an employer. He was a random passerby that was trying to survive. Just like him. Are you crazy! his mind instantly shot back. It was more a statement than a question. His subconscious refused to believe he was anything like this strange smiley guy. <p>

But if Lucas actually thought about it, maybe being similar to smiley man over there wasn't such a bad thing. He'd be able to deter others from mugging him, or maybe he could just keep people away in general. That would probably become old fast, though, so maybe it wouldn't be too great after all. Lucas glanced to the numerous pictures that were still visible (had this guy straightened them up or had they always been like that? Who knew?) but his eyes quickly fixed on the man once he spoke again, asking if he was finished. This time around the stranger hadn't even stuttered. Lucas's eyebrows rose out of surprise; he was visibly impressed. A moment later he managed to nod. "Yeah, I'm done for now," he confirmed, "There's always tomorrow to find something neat." That wasn't necessarily true, but he was still feeling slightly uneasy, so he was just saying whatever he could in order to get out of this particular situation.<p>

However, as he slowly backed to the front door, Lucas realized the man was still watching as he tried to exit. Forever-smiling, it seemed. He almost wanted to quicken his pace so he could simply turn and run to escape in one fluid movement (if only he could be that coordinated...) but that might set off the other man. Sudden movement wasn't always the right way to go, as it might startle and evoke an unexpected attack. Like... some kind of wild animal. Needless to say, Lucas needed to remain cautious and keep his pace slow and steady to avoid anything dangerous. And, honestly, he thought he was being polite enough by offering up the rest of the house for the taking. He should be home free, right? In fact, he was very confident of that. So after he waved, he turned, his hand dropping slightly and inching toward the door. Only now did he realize that it had actually been shut (by the stranger, he presumed). Paying no more attention to it, he grabbed the knob and twisted.<p>

Then the man spoke, and Lucas stopped with his hand still twisted, still ready to push open the door. He wasn't quite sure how to answer the question, because he wasn't quite sure of the answer, himself. "Umm..." His mind raced to come up with something clever, or something that would allow him to retreat to his shelter in peace. But nothing came to mind, so he let go of the tarnished-gold knob and slowly turned back to the stranger. "I'm not really sure," he said honestly. His occupied hand moved up and down, causing the baseball bat to tap lightly against the ground a few times. Lucas thought that maybe the noise would help him concentrate, but not one idea came to mind, so he stopped. "Maybe I'll look for some more food. You can never have too much, you know?" He smiled, shrugging lightly. <p>

Another idea came to him and he blurted it out without much thought. "Or maybe a new bike. My cousin's is getting a little rusty." He paused, then added, "Or a weapon! Something better than a bat, maybe." Lucas chuckled, knowing that he would never find anything he enjoyed using more than a bat. Guns were too deadly, and he was too much of a coward to use them. Baseball bats splintered, sure, but that took a while. In fact, he had only needed a new one once. That was saying something, right? But Lucas was getting sidetracked. He looked at the stranger, shrugging once again to get back to the original question. "Honestly, I don't know. Maybe explore for good hideouts or something. You're gonna search this house, right?" He finally trailed off after that, pursing his lips. He was half waiting for a response, half wondering why he was talking so much in the first place while all this time, the stranger had spoken so little. <p>

On top of that, he had just opened up the conversation once again, something he had, almost this entire time, wanted to avoid.

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tag: mikey; words: 846;

credit wasted youth! notes: Mikey is too adorable c:</div>[/dohtml]

[Maik Anders]

but i will hold on hope and i won't let you choke

An optimist! Optimists were wonderful people. Sunshine was great, silver linings were greater – and people who could recognize the value in tomorrow's were absolutely the best. If possible, it made Mikey's smile grow larger, a small chuckle escaping him as he brightened at the notion. Indeed, there was always tomorrow to find something neat. In a world where seeing the sun rise again wasn't quite the guarantee that it should have been, it was always nice to be faced with such confidence. It was rare. If the statement was a lie or just for the sake of stating something – well, such a possibility soared over his head. Soared and crashed into a pile of numerous other things that he'd failed to grasp.


As he paused the man with yet another question, eyes wide on him as he turned back around to face him, distracted by his thoughts and looking quite puzzled. Maik knew that look, as he very well should; he wore it often enough, after all. He waited though, focusing and holding steady. Just waiting. Until the stranger revealed that he wasn't even sure where he was going. He raised his eyebrows, surprised by the revelation and yet not surprised at all. For the past who-knew-how-long, he'd simply been walking with no real destination in mind. He started out in the morning with no idea where he'd wind up by the end of the day. This guy was probably the same way. Who ever knew where they were going anymore? He blinked, dropping his eyes down to focus on the source of the tap-tap-tapping that had caught his attentions, watching the end of the bat hit the ground idly as the man continued to mull over his thoughts. Only once the man spoke did Maik look back up, his smile returning as the stranger smiled at him. He simply nodded. Yes, food was very good. One could never have too much. Except when you'd eaten so much that your stomach started aching so badly that you could hardly remember what it was like to feel hungry. That was usually when you'd had too much. Or when you'd eaten to the point of throwing up. That was probably too much too.


He passed on the notion of pointing such facts out to the man as he continued on, tacking other ideas on. Maybe he could find a new bike. New? He had one already? His cousin's. Oh, that was exciting! He wanted to see it. He sort of wanted his own bike. He could cover a lot more ground a lot more quickly than he did with just his feet to get him from one place to another. That'd be nice. Unfortunately, the fact that he couldn't really remember how to ride a bike could prove to be a challenge that could lead to many more, so maybe having a bike wasn't worth it. Either way, he still wanted to see this man's bike. So cool.


A new weapon! “Y'could... put, uh- p-put.. nails in it. L- mmm-ine.” He pursed his lips after forcing out some semblance of a remark, moving a hand up to point to the arm of the couch closest to where the man stood, to the bat that he'd mutilated with nails crudely hammered into the head of it. Though having a few nails sticking out of it probably didn't make it much better than an average bat. It really got in deep to undead skull though. “Or y'could, uh- tttt-t-t- uh...” He exhaled sharply, grinning widely and moving his hand back up to rub fingertips over his eye, glancing down to the ground for a moment before shaking his head. What did he mean to say? He could... what? He couldn't remember. Or maybe it could, but it was dumb. He dropped his hand to grip at the edge of the picture frame still in his grasp, shaking his head again, looking off and then back up to the man, grinning the whole while. “S'fff.. find.. somethin', yes. Thur's a... a harrr-hard..ware store...” He turned slightly, moving his hand up to point off in a general direction, glancing back to the man, somehow expecting him to know exactly what he was talking about. Or at least to think it a semi-decent idea. Hardware stores had lots of weapon-y type things.


Or good hideouts. There were lots of things to have at the end of the world, geez.


Raising his eyebrows again, he glanced over to the stairs once more, prompted by the stranger. Was he going to search the house? That had certainly been the intention when he'd first stepped inside it, but he hadn't counted on running into such pleasant company. “... 'dunno.” He finally muttered beneath his breath, frowning slightly. It seemed nobody knew anything. As a lightbulb clicked on in his dim mind, he looked quickly back to the man. “Iiii... I could- could hel..p-p with.. uh-with-with findin'.... things. Huh?” He offered, inclining his head forward slightly as if doing so would better encourage the man to accept him.

on the noose around your neck

( ooc | lucas is adorablerrrrr! <3 )

[Lucas Shaw]

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Down in the valley the calm trees are swaying in time
Over the hills where the mountains are tumbling down

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Lucas found himself leaning lightly against the frame of the front door. He was waiting as patiently as someone like himself could, and he was silently debating whether or not he should quickly and quietly slip out of the house and run. It would be simple, no doubt, to outrun the boy. Or, well, he was confident about it anyway. Throughout this whole year (and then some) Lucas had never met anyone that could keep pace with him. His long gangly legs were the obvious reason why he was such a good runner, but his cowardice was undoubtedly the reason why he was so conditioned to run in the first place. Running. That was always the easiest way out, no matter what. That was why the urge to escape was bubbling up inside him now; running was a comfort, he felt safest while running away, ironically enough.<p>

But now something inside was telling him to wait just a little longer. He should probably stick this out by waiting until the stranger made the decision to explore the rest of the abandoned home. Or at least answered his weak question. That way he could smile, nod, and still remain polite while trying to say goodbye. But the other young man surprised Lucas by actually giving him a useful suggestion. Putting nails in the barrel of the bat would definitely be a good plan. The only reason he hadn't done so already was probably because his current weapon got little to no use to begin with. Lucas watched closely, though, as the stranger pointed to something that apparently belonged to him. When he realized it was another bat, his eyes widened slightly. So this guy had a gun and a hammer and a nail-bat. Maybe it wasn't such an even match, after all.<p>

By the looks of things, though, it appeared as if the stranger meant no harm. He seemed quite clueless, actually. Don't let that trick you into a false sense of security! his mind warned. While the stranger stuttered, attempting to come up with an idea as to what he could do, Lucas nodded slowly, even though it was more a response to what he had been telling himself. The whole clueless gimmick could be a total act. Tricking the unassuming coward into handing over weapons or extra food. Ugh! he hated being so torn over this type of thing. It took debating for a moment or two, but he eventually decided that all he could do was remain cautious and just... be ready to move if something suspicious happened.<p>

Finally the stranger mentioned something about a hardware store, and that drew Lucas from his thoughts. He allowed himself to nod again, implying that it was actually a good idea. "Hardware store..." he mused, the smallest grin appearing on his face. "Yeah, they might have something useful. Then again, I bet a lot of that shit got looted a long time ago..." he trailed off, slightly disheartened. But a moment later he perked up, placing his free hand on the top of his head, as though in disbelief that he hadn't thought of this right away. "Garden sheds! People keep tools and junk in those, right? Like, even a lawnmower blade could be tied to a stick or something to make it useful." Even a hoe or a shovel could be valuable... "Whatever the case, I'm sure we'd be able to find something good." <p>

Whoa, whoa, whoa. We? That threw him completely off track, and he immediately regretted his poor choice in words. No. No, no, no. NO. There was no way Lucas would be willing to take on a sidekick. He could hardly stand up for himself; what if this guy needed protection from something? Lucas wouldn't be able to run away, he would have to stay back and help. Before he could open his mouth to take back what he said, the stranger was offering up his help. "Um..." Proper words weren't forming quickly enough. The hand atop his head dropped to his side as he faltered a few times, starting to say something but immediately stopping. Nevertheless, he soon realized that he couldn't say no. "You, uh... Yeah. Sure you could." Lucas despised himself at the moment, but even though he had given in, he wasn't going to play nice. That would just keep things awkward.<p>

"Just don't slow me down," he finally continued, pointing his bat lazily in the stranger's direction. "If I run, you run. If you want to fight something, consider yourself on your own." Apparently, without knowing, he had made the decision to buckle down and take charge. And, look! You're even trying to act tough. Lord. Even his own mind was mocking him. "Just... Be careful." Alright, so maybe he needed to work on being tough; he was not, and had never been, very good at it. "Let's go jump some fences, shall we?" Finally he was able to turn and twist the old doorknob, pushing the door open. With a half-hearted smile, Lucas made a gesture for the stranger to exit first. He hoped he wasn't making a big mistake.

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tag: mikey; words: 859;

credit wasted youth! notes: :3</div>[/dohtml]