Fallenreaper — Roleplayer Guild

Abbie
Location: Salt Lake City, Utah
Timestamp: Around Afternoon

After Coltrane, followed by Toby, came through Abbie felt the boar slip from her grip and clatter softly onto the ground. Instantly she froze. Her eyes widened and body tensed, poised to react while she strained to listen to the air over her own racing heart. Was that footsteps she heard? Her ears strained farther for the slight tittering sound, possibly her paranoia’s imaginations, until Coltrane’s words shattered it. His deep voice caused her to sudden jump and snapped her head about to give him a glaring look. Partly, it seemed like she was accusing him for her jumpiness in unfamiliar territory. However, the sour look quickly melted away when she noted his suggestion. Her heart was still pounding within her ears, drowning her head, while she forced herself to nod in agreement.

Her dry tongue forced a soft word from her lips. “Agreed.”

The sooner they searched, the sooner they could leave she thought as Coltrane started to move toward the sliding porch door. Her eyes followed him yet her body hadn’t moved from place, yet. She paused long enough to attach her quiver and notched her bow with an arrow. A handcrafted one from last spring, decorated with black raven feathers, one of her favorites. She slightly let a smirk trace her mouth when her mind wandered back to the memory of Lacy suggesting she use the black feathers, and then it faded. Loosely she continued to hold her arrow to her weapon while Abbie followed Coltrane’s path. Easily her body fell in step with his without a second thought, telling the world how at ease she felt working with him. Her legs shifted through the tall grass creating a flatten trail that wove to the house and destroyed the imagery of abandonment with each step.

As Coltrane started to edge the glass door open, she stepped to the other side of the doorway and propped herself against the frame and the door edge. She eyed the yard while also glancing at the murky, grimy glass in an attempt to see past its dirty surface and into the room beyond. It didn’t make a different since the outside was covered in many weathered layers. Her leg lifted high enough to rest her foot upon the outside and prevent the door from sliding too far open. It was a precaution, namely should a zombie attempt bust its way through. She held her breath while her back dug into the frame’s outline, ready to slam some zombie’s head into mash, it felt like the longest time in her existence. The indentations felt like they would make a mark when Coltrane tapped the glass. Right on cue, the corpse sitting in the chair had started to rise. Its frame, spared the harsh environment, was barely touched by the decay. Still there was a build of rot and stank emitting from the corpse’s shambling movements, soiling the stale air. Flesh seemed to shrivel up and muscle long gone, the bones held by fraying and weak tendons thanks to the years passing by. Inwardly she was thankfully it was Coltrane dealing directly with the undead and not her. However, a small voice chided her for it. It said she was being a coward and weak leaving the dirty stuff to the bulkier man rather than face it, as she should. Not wanting to bother with it, Abbie pushed the voice to the back of her mind just when Coltrane sent his crowbar tip right into the eye of the shambling threat. She shuddered, letting her leg down while she couldn’t tear her face away from the thing. Even after, it collapsed, dead for a second time.

No matter how many times Abbie watched them. No matter how much she tried to convince herself they were gone, her mind seemed to continue to feel a slight twinge of guilt when they were forced to kill one. She guessed her mind would never get over the fact they were once human and that, to her, was something very dangerous. It hurt her chances of survival.

She didn’t have long to dwell on it when Coltrane spoke. “Alright, watch my back..”

His hand waved as he headed inside. Abbie’s hands still fixed, ready to draw her arrow and fire, made sure to keep close. Her boots seemed louder than it should have been in the quiet, soundless tomb of the old house. Each step caused the boards to creak and moan softly in protest, trying to sound the alarm to any inhabitants left only to go unheeded. At least she assumed and hoped so. Her head instinctively shot to the corpse while her nose scrunched up from the aroma wafting off it. She bit down on the sourness within her throat; her arm rose slightly to cover her nose and stifle the scent invading her smell. Swiftly she edged on by the smelly mass. Not that it mattered. Most the house had stale quality of air and that made her think she was being suffocated, her lungs unhappy with the dust and mold being inhaled.

Abbie avoided examining the scene too closely. Namely the photos, evidence of a family, hanging from the wall like little windows, each scene locked within a simple, more peaceful scene and time. Now it was all meaningless. Her heart hurt while her eyes traced the interior, quickly passing over the more homely touches while she motioned for Toby to shut the door. As risky as the house might’ve been, having something else come in behind them was far worse and something Abbie wasn’t about to chance.

Inch by inch, they roamed the various rooms downstairs. Luckily, there wasn’t a door leading into a basement or else Abbie would’ve locked it down, using cord, to be searched much later. Too many times they had unwanted surprises. Slowly each one had driven up her paranoia because she nearly found herself in a life or death situation far too often for her liking. Now she was tired of them.

They finally came to checking the upstairs. Once more Coltrane took the lead, her heart suck in her throat and eyes peeled for any signs of movement during her close travel in his wake. So nervous, she barely registered herself nearly melting into Coltrane’s back until her elbow nearly nudged his lower back. Softly she cursed herself for being so jumpy. Then she forced herself to hold back, her head still eyed his thick frame slowly worked his way up with each step treading as light as possible for someone his size. For a moment, Abbie had a lingering thought that perhaps she should’ve taken the lead but shook it away. It was too late now. Like before, each room checked made Abbie’s stomach toss in anxiety since she expected to see another time burdened body moving toward them. By the third room, her worry had started to ebb leaving her core lighter now until she heard Coltrane’s words.

“Aw man...”

“What? What is it….” Her sentence trailed off when she edged to peek into the room. Her eyes widened in horror and her figure was saddled with trembles, her skin voided of any color being washed over in white.

At first glimpsed it looked like any typical boy’s room. The walls were covered in sky blue, lined with various posters of racecars, their drivers, and other sport figures who flashed their winning smiles onto the empty bed, the same theme patterned its covers and sheets. A dresser, pure white with painted on flag patterns and peeled stickers, sat near the partly open window. The curtains were very thin, easily toyed with by a breeze though the cracked window and causing their edges to flutter a bit. Abbie followed a single, large stain of blood. It stretched over the carpet from end of the room to a closet, which stood wide open. The door stoppered by a half-eaten woman slumped over before it. Flesh peeled back, her face half-eaten to reveal the yellowed skull underneath and messy, wiry frizzle of brown hair covered her eyes, likely shrunken into her sockets. The buzzing of flies, a small swarm flittered to and back among the large gaping hole in her middle.

Abbie felt her stomach start to curl again. Then a sound of a moan, followed by shuffling feet caused her to jerk to the side. A boy, no older than six, dressed in stained shorts and a tee shirt started his slow treading steps to them. His eyes glossed over in a film long voided of any life now. His pupils and irises a milky, sour color just stared at the trio peeking into his bedroom. One shoe was gone but the other was slated to the side, the ankle seemed off set and broken, though he didn’t register it. The undead child just continued on his mindless path toward them.

“Oh my god…” It was all Abbie could say. On cue, her feet immediately took a step back then another backing right out of the room once more. She felt fear and a deep sorrow seize her heart. No…no… “I can’t…he’s just, just so young… No.”

It would be clear this was her first ‘young’ corpse and the effect was rather unsettling.

Lyn

Lyn looked at Ssarak and nodded, slowly and slightly sad, while she watched him order one of the birds over the roast. Her eyes fought hard not to linger toward the soup and its tempting aroma. It was very hard as her desire to try it was strong. She gave a small smile when he spoke to her, her face turned up in a pleased expression while her head tilted to the side in curiosity. She felt him gently lead her toward Alaira and immediately her pace shifted, her arm pulled taunt in her excitement as she tried to pull the larger Esyire along with her to the bar. Her desire overwhelm her usual observant nature, Lyn missed the look exchanged between the two, Ssarak requesting her Aunt to watch her. While the two talk, Lyn stood there shifting foot to foot with her free hand on one of the empty stools, toying with it and unable to contain her enjoyment. Her other was still fixed within the callous but gentle hands of Ssarak during her impatience for the conversation to be over.

A small, childish giggle escaped Lyn’s lips when Alaira looked at her. Shortly, she was pleased to realize, the Esyire had released her into her Aunt’s care. Without farther mention or gesture other than wide-open arms inviting her, she darted about the stool she was standing at and scrambled into the halfling’s lap eagerly. The child’s arms pushed her up in well-practiced movements as she felt strong hands aid her up the rest of the way until she was situated in a sitting position. It was obvious this was a favorite spot of hers. One she loved to sit on often and made herself rather comfortable, her head now able to peer over the table thanks to the boost where she could easily eat what was set in front of her.

Lyn spotted the chicken’s arrival. Her eyes stood fixed to the source, her middle growing more impatient by the moment while she saw her portion being sliced away then placed in front of her. She needed no other words in order to dig in. She merely made a quick nod to Ssarak’s words and started to consume the chicken in her usual fashion, with surprising haste and delight. However the flesh was still hot and when her fingers tried to tear it into small chunks, they hurt her fingers slightly forcing her to pop them into her mouth. Naturally she looked to Alaira alongside the teddy bear who also turned its head, still on her shoulder, for some help. Or to cool it off a bit at least.

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