[center]Music OOC (Recurring)[/center]
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[center][youtube]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8p2DjSwt4_g&list=RDQM4-e9lIlSNuM&start_radio=1[/youtube][/center]
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The woman had asked, and a voice had called back in answer, in earnest, even as the former readied her weapon to blast back at an attacker or an infected, whichever. Nothing else mattered at this moment but protection, survival, even if it meant forfeiting a life she might otherwise save.

These words? Nonsense, really. Recited poetry. Regurgitated creed. Little and less. Long since lost and bereft of definition. [i]Save who you can. Slay who is damned.[/i] An old friend had taught her, and Charley had wandered this dead earth as its daughter who defied the birth of its curse.
[i]
Words. Words are wind.[/i]

[color=fff200]“So you say…” [/color]Charley responded to ‘no infected’. Alas, she had heard those words before, only for infected to almost get her killed moments later. A name came the next moment. [i]Quinn Finch.[/i] Obviously she did not recognize it. Didn’t much care for a 25th fucking birthday either. [i]Leg. Friend. Fever.[/i]

Charley pursed her lips, determining a decision as much as her position in these circumstances. She was not so callous as to abandon someone who genuinely needed help and would not hurt her in turn. [i]Hell, might just help me. We'll see.[/i]

She debated the situation as the tarp opened just then. Training her weapon, finger on the trigger of a rifle not to be trifled with, another woman came into view, though no telling if infected.

[color=fff200]“Dollar,”[/color] Charley offered across the distance.[color=fff200] “That’s my horse’s name.”[/color] She ruffled his mane. [color=fff200]“Good boy. What about you?”[/color] Rifle aimed. [color=fff200]“You a good girl or you gonna make me wish I left this world and hell by shooting myself?”
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@Atrocious