[hr][hr][center][h1][color=#cc66ff]Tryke Lockley[/color][/h1][img]http://68.media.tumblr.com/05da649d2d2ce361f7841e2e6f74d141/tumblr_mqfpy0uQji1qb48xzo1_250.gif[/img][/center][hr][center]Location: On Her Motorcycle, on the Walker Infested Route to Newnan[/center][hr][hr]Sometimes, Tryke wished she had the good sense to shut her goddamn mouth. Right before the walker hoard appeared on the horizon, she had asked Bridgette if they were going to Valhalla. It had been a joke. But flash forward to moments later, when Astrid's axe was embedded in Bridgette's skull, and Astrid's last words to her sister had been just that. [i]Valhalla.[/i]

At that moment of her life, Tryke felt like the asshole supreme. Despite hardly knowing her for even an hour, she [i]liked[/i] Bridgette. She could see herself being friends with the Viking chick. She hadn't had a true friend since the year the outbreak began--and engineers at CalTech, shockingly, tended not to be very good with social skills. And as much as Tryke was pissed at herself, she wasn't the type to curl up and cry. 

No, she got pissed at the world. [color=cc66ff]"Oh fuck no, you asshats!"[/color] Tryke exclaimed, removing her bat from its place behind her shoulder. [color=cc66ff]"That was my [i]friend[/i]!"[/color] Tryke practically growled. Usually, her policy would have been to speed away on her bike as fast as she could, and put as much distance between her and the walkers as she could. But this was different. This was time for revenge, for payback. With one hand on her bike, the other hand held her bat. Swerving as best as she could, Tryke did her best to help Astrid clear a path to Bridgette, swinging at any walkers that came near her. 

But it wasn't enough. Just as Tryke's anger had begun to falter slightly, seeing Astrid pull her dead friend into the truck, her throat caught slightly as Astrid was bit as well. Tryke had a list of things that were okay, and goddamnit, this was not on the bloody list. Her anger swelled again, and she was tempted to pull out her makeshift flamethrower, and burn the sons of bitches to hell that had done this. 

But that wouldn't solve anything. For those few awkward and sarcastic moments over in Franklin, Bridgette had been her friend. Astrid was Bridgette's sister. And if the dying woman wanted to get everyone back to wherever the hell the Vikings came from, then Tryke vowed that she'd do her best to help. Enough was enough. 
[hr][hr][center][h1][color=#cc6699]Édouard Riviere[/color][/h1][img]http://68.media.tumblr.com/a3fd18c695ddfee4f9f634ada4d62009/tumblr_inline_nv14jdAuCE1qlt39u_500.gif[/img][/center][hr][center]Location: Franklin ---> the Infirmary[/center][hr][hr]Édouard held himself deathly still as the group headed out vanished into the distance. He had fallen back on one key strategy, when encountered with situations beyond his understanding--playing dead. The pretty girl, Sana, had placed her head on his shoulder. On one hand, he was ecstatic and thrilled--but on the other, he was deeply and undeniably terrified. This seemed [i]exactly[/i] like something Lyon would come over and kill him for. He didn't fancy death, not really. As much as he sometimes wished for it, he never wished for it all too long. Mostly, it was just when there were problems in his path, and death just seemed like an easier and less stressful alternative. 

[color=cc6699]"Il est....ton frère?"[/color] Édouard repeated, still holding himself still. He couldn't help but feel more and more confused. Did they commit incest here, then? He supposed that it could just be an American thing, or another product of Lyon's brainwashing. Either way, he couldn't help but be glad then that his sisters were likely dead. The thought of kissing Darcey, or Alisanne especially, almost made the Frenchman gag. 

[color=cc6699]"Je suis certain que ton frère se sentira bien,"[/color] Édouard said, a bit awkwardly drawn out. He moved his hand very slowly, and patted Sana on the back, like a child petting a dog for the first time, filled with terror that it might run away. [color=cc6699]"Mes sœurs sont mortes, je pense,"[/color] he added, as if that could somehow comfort Sana. 

He couldn't help but feel relieved as Sana seemed to focus on his hair. He had lovely hair, he had to admit. It wasn't strange at all that someone else would become obsessed with it. Frankly, he was almost surprised more people didn't. As Sana took his hand, he nodded, once again terrified at the physical contact of it--especially as the devil himself came over. A few strange English words later, and Édouard glanced at Sana with unease. 

He then made the (in his mind) unfortunate decision to trust her. He hoped his hair wouldn't perish as a result. 

Following her inside the school, they ended up back in the wretched infirmary. He wouldn't be surprised if Lyon made him live there, with how much time he spent in the place. Nodding at her question, Édouard held out a hand for either the scissors or the comb. He wanted to help. 

[hider=Translations]Il est....ton frère? = He is...your brother?
Je suis certain que ton frère se sentira bien. = I'm sure your brother'll be fine.
Mes sœurs sont mortes, je pense. = My sisters are dead, I think.[/hider][hr][hr][center][h1][color=#00ff00]Jack Hudson[/color][/h1][img]http://68.media.tumblr.com/9aa3a47c901252922e43950d062e1fe8/tumblr_inline_nuo4tdsc7h1qlt39u_500.gif[/img][hr]Location: Building 7 (Rec Center) ----> [s]Death[/s] the Gate[/center][hr][hr][color=00ff00]"You deserve some relaxation time,"[/color] Jack agreed, as Miss Sally sat down and directed the placement of the chairs. He abandoned his practice of announcing--still debating whether or not to leave in the bit about [i]monstah trucks[/i]--and set to work. It wasn't too long before most of the chairs had been set up, and even Sophia, the one handed girl, was pitching in. The more he saw of Newnan, the more it seemed like a paradise, a dream come true. 

He was about to whistle playfully at Tatiana, when he heard the crackle of the radio. For a second, he reached towards his hip, the way he had done back as a police officer. But there was just air there, no radio. His fingers had grasped for nothingness. Refocusing his attention on the Ashton's voice, Jack swore under his breath. Jack's immediate, gut reaction was to protect Tatiana at all costs, and he looked over at his Russian ballerina, his heart heavy in his chest. 

[color=00ff00]"You sure, solovey? I don't mind staying here with you,"[/color] Jack replied, having walked back over to Tatiana, a hand on each of her shoulders. He could tell how nervous she was, and he wanted nothing more than to stay with her, in the safety of the Rec Center. But if they were going to make this their home, it had to be defended. Paradise came at a price. As Tatiana reassured him, Jack pulled her in for a hug and a kiss. [color=00ff00]"I'll be back before you've got a chance to miss me,"[/color] he promised. [color=00ff00]"Take good care of Bazhooli while I'm gone, yeah?"[/color] he added, cracking a joke and a smile. 

Bidding his farewells, Jack left the Rec Center, remembering that Ashton had told people to meet at the courthouse with weapons. He didn't have a single thing on him, and he couldn't help but feel slightly foolish. However, he spotted a few people heading towards the gate, and figuring that crowds weren't [i]usually[/i] wrong, he followed them. Moving at a bit of a light jog, he finally made it out to the gate, seeing the other members getting ready to go. 

[color=00ff00]"I'd like to volunteer, if you'll have me."[/color]