[b]Lillah & Vivian -- Roselawn Cemetery, Baton Rouge[/b] 

The night had been a long one; Lillah had spent most of her time flipping through an old comic book, the edge of its pages brown and yellow by the light of a candle. The sun was up, but the walls of the mausoleum closed out its light. She was only aware of the morning when there was a stirring beside her: a petite woman lied restricted in the grimy sleeping bag but awoke when she tried to stretch her way out. Lillah's attention turned back on the last couple pages of the comic book after offering a "Good morning" to her companion. 

As expected, she didn't get a reply. It was a wonder if she was even heard as Vivian concerned herself with struggling to wake up. She pulled a book bag to herself and peered inside. "Fuuuck," Vivian whined despite pulling out a full bottle of water. "We're gonna need food soon." Vivian uncapped the bottle and took a large swig, swishing it about her mouth before swallowing to fight off the dryness. "And I'm not staying in here another day." She gave Lillah a pointed a look, though it was lost in the dark. 

"Then we'll leave today. And find some supplies." She shrugged and closed the comic book before tossing it to Vivian, who slipped it into her own bag. 

"You get any sleep?" Vivian asked, standing to stretch. She knew the answer every morning, but asked anyway. Always with a nonchalant and light tone despite the concern in her dark gaze.

As she answered, Lillah wiggled out the sleeping bag so she could sit on top it. "Got enough," was always the reply. 

Vivian rolled her eyes but sat back down to unpack some canned food. For their single-candle-lit breakfast, they would be splitting a can of black olives and washing it down with water. Their conversation was idle small talk, littered with a laugh or two here or there. More often than not, Vivian's lips were moving and Lillah was rolling her eyes--though hiding a smile--in response. 

With their stomachs at least partly full, Lillah got up to pull the heavy into the mausoleum open. She squinted against the sun as it entered, but didn't dare look away to leave herself unaware. However, the cemetery was empty and she pulled the door all the way open as Vivian extinguished the candle and went on to groom herself. Lillah stood by the door, continuing to keep watch as she waited for her companion to finish packing up their current supplies: two reusable water bottles, the large sleeping bag, a pack of matches, a lighter, the half melted candle, two more cans of fruit, lots of feminine hygiene products, and the essentials of self defense (which would be on their persons).

All finished up, Vivian handed the taller girl the heavier bag and an aluminum bat. She had an unloaded singled barreled shot gun on her back and a hunting knife at her makeshift belt. "Alright, let's get out of here, love," she said as she stepped out into the light, leaving behind the empty olive can. 

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Their search for food and supplies took them from street to street in Baton Rogue. Both were quiet and alert, though Vivian was casually twirling her knife about her fingers. She was also the first to hear vehicles a few streets over and redirected Lillah's path away from the noise. Their search for supplies took them from store to store, most of which already emptied by other survivors. "This is hopeless. This city was too big," Lillah muttered. "We..." Her voice trailed off, however, and they came to a stop in front of a shoppe with a half faded sign. The door was open and, just as she was about to peak in, Lillah pulled away at the sounds of coughing and hacking.

The two exchanged looks, then nodded. Vivian slipped the knife away, exchanging it for her empty shot gun as she turned to guard the door against outsiders. She made a point to be invisible to anyone inside the shop. Lillah, on the other hand, slipped quietly through the open door with her bat at the shoulder.

It became quickly apparent why the other woman was gagging. When the stench hit Lillah as she walked further in, she couldn't help the cough that rose from her throat and alerting the stranger to her present. "Shit," she hissed, wafting the air in front of her. Having surprise on her side would've been nice, but she wasn't terribly afraid despite: the short haired woman standing over two corpses was small and didn't have a firearm in hand.  Still, she said, "Sorry," as a greeting, her face wrinkled against the odor.