[hr][hr][center][h1][i][b][color=steelblue]Ash Holloway[/color][/b][/i][/h1] [img]https://31.media.tumblr.com/bcfab66a674d39bfaaddc28bd62d4470/tumblr_inline_ne41kcr5UN1s5par2.jpg[/img][/center] [hr][center][b]Location:[/b] Building [b]2[/b], Mess Hall -> Outer Wall, Main Gate [/center][hr][hr] The Captain decided against speech as Astrid responded to his earlier admonishment about taking some food with her. While this place was run in the manner of a military outpost, he was fully aware that he could not treat everyone as soldiers under his command. At least not all the time. Little provisions and caveats had to be allotted for individualistic behavior. So long as work got done, the place was kept safe to the best of their ability, it didn't cross the boundary into disrespect or insubordination, Ash was willing to give a bit of latitude. These were colorful people. It was, perhaps, their differences from workaday folk that kept them alive certain intangibles that the veteran military man did not want to squash in them. Work gets done, orders are followed, everyone able works, everyone able fights. It is how they survived. Difficulties with their neighbors to the east aside, it was how they flourished. The man, Beni, seemed optimistic. Even insistent upon cooperation, despite Ash's minor attempts to elicit an emotional response from him. A quiet desperation, possibly. Hopefully, more noticeable than his own, which was (also) hopefully buried beneath a convincing poker face. He surely did not want to get his hopes up just to see this turn into a horrific mistake. The moment Astrid left the gates, it would be too late to go back, short of bloodshed. And Ash certainly had enough of that today. He listened to Beni quote someone close to him, as he mentioned, someone he lost. [color=steelblue]"Yeah. We've all lost people. Hits us different. I've lost a few recently that [i]will be answered for[/i]. But that's another day."[/color] They neared the front gate, escort in tow. The two armed men remained below as Ash ascended the post, motioning for Beni to follow. [color=steelblue]"If you would please, talk to your people, explain our arrangement. Grain of salt with Astrid. She does her own thing, but she's extremely capable."[/color] [hr][hr][center][h1][i][b][color=orangered]Bridgette Vinters[/color][/b][/i][/h1] [img]https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/736x/d5/b4/78/d5b478ac0063ce48f5bab3cb5648b0a1.jpg[/img][/center] [hr][center][b]Location:[/b] Within the Outer Wall, Livestock area - Stables [/center][hr][hr] Of course, the concept of a warm, shiny, smiley Bridgette wasn't going to last long, especially when her battle-sister starts saddling up her draft horse and preparing to leave the city without so much as an explanation. There had been a bit of a communication lapse, starting with her time fixing the damaged section of wall to the east, and continuing with her unexpected jaunt to the stables to find out that the horses were basically ignored all day today. This, like so many chunks of her daily life, required profanity. [color=orangered]"Didn't expect? Yeah, that's fucking rich. Means you were planning to ride off into the goddamn sunset without word fucking one to little sister, huh? Look, I've been down here with the feed and shit and unkept fucking equines here in horsey-town because someone else couldn't do their mothershitting job right. You mind telling me what the actual fuck is going on?"[/color] So, she didn't seem quite as content nor fuzzy. More to the point, she was worried about Astrid. It's just that worry, like most of her other observable emotions, presented as anger. And sailorworthy uses of colorful language. [hr][hr][center][h1][i][b][color=c0c0c0]The Great Bazhooli[/color][/b][/i][/h1] [img]https://img.roleplayerguild.com/prod/users/0c830ac3-637e-4722-a654-d4192b0bd4c2.jpg[/img][/center] [hr][center][b]Location:[/b] Building [b]7[/b] (Rec Center) [/center][hr][hr] Wow. The Great Bazhooli hadn't expected the other new guy, Jack, to bring him anything. Let alone bring him a plate of freshly smoked venison. This day was looking better and better every second. [color=c0c0c0]"Da, da... Am thanking you. Very nice of you."[/color] He accepted the plate Tatiana held out to him, but tried very hard not to go too overboard. While enjoying the fruits of Newnan's labors, he had no desire to overdo and make himself a burden. But he was still hungry. Had been for a long time before pulling into this settlement. While it was probably another reason not to overdo it, the smell of seasoned, smoked meat was intoxicating. [color=c0c0c0]"Assistant... little ballerina, vhat you do is art. Is poetry. Vhat I do is entertaining. Literal [u]circus[/u], yes? At least, if I juggle. Give me knife, give me five or six or eight... I make poetry. Songs generations long. Most I can offer is part of lovely assistant, da? You dance in, you motion to things, you throw pins and balls to me. Not poetry. Not at all vhat you are capable of. But if vant, I can use Lovely Assistant. Just did not vant to insult by asking."[/color] He turned his attention back to Jack, who had just recently given him semi-formal introduction. He did not want to appear rude, not did he want to begin cramming his face full of deer and start things off badly. Then again, if viewed through the objective lens of their overall reality, starting off a conversation with a face full of good meat was really low on the list of worries. [color=c0c0c0]"Mr. Jack, zdravstvuyte[/color][sub]1[/sub][color=c0c0c0]. I am The Great Bazhooli, formerly of..."[/color] His voice trailed off and his face took on a bit of a "lightbulb moment". He looked over to his armed escort, possibly a man who was quite forgotten about by the higher ups. He still carried Bazhooli's great bearskin coat, which was currently wrapped around his rifle an all of his knives. [color=c0c0c0]"Hey there, Man-Who-Carries-My-Stuff. You are hungry? Have they let you eat yet?"[/color] He immediately began to wave the man over, vigorously. [hider=Translations] 1 = Hello [/hider] [hr][hr][center][h1][color=firebrick]Black James(!)[/color][/h1] [img]https://v.cdn.vine.co/r/avatars/6AE78329E91063505631975227392_pic-r-1396533712688c4afde8ecf.jpg.jpg?versionId=ZnGOSit0zozlhxpJk0w6QVx4cSozVRdq[/img][/center] [hr][center][b]Location:[/b] Building [b]B[/b] (Zoie's House) [/center][hr][hr] It seemed to James that lockup was an odd spot to put someone that needed checking up on. Then again, Zoie [i]was[/i] their Security Lead. Ask James about sweet potatoes or peanuts, he was your man. Handled agriculture. Zoie, she handled threats, both internal and external. They each had their place in keeping Newnan going. [color=firebrick]"Look Miss Zoie, soon as we done here, Imma run these plates back to Mess an' get you one o' them wheelchairs. Now, if'n you ain't wantin' Doc Froggy or Miss Astrid knowing about it, that's gonna be a much taller order, okay? They like keepin' tabs on apsrins and wheelchairs and stuff."[/color] James began eating with renewed purpose, given something of a task to perform that might make things a touch easier for his friend. Between mouthfuls, he could be heard exclaiming, [color=firebrick]"I see what I can do. Hell, I can carry yo' ass down there if need be, long as you got hands on my rifle for me."[/color] James knew that he really should be encouraging Zoie to rest. But he was a realist. The woman would do what she wanted to, period. The best he could hope for was to run alongside and make it easier for her, this time to make sure she doesn't blow a stitch and reopen something important. He was hoping to get a nice, leisurely meal in, but like his momma always told him, "You can Hope in one hand and Shit in the other, see which one fills up first." Truly a sage, that Southern lady.