Kidd

To Survive the End. (Post Apocalyptic Rp)

Damn hoomans

To Survive the End. (Post Apocalyptic Rp)

To Survive the End. (Post Apocalyptic Rp)

When her name was returned, Lillah sighed in relief and slowly pushed herself up. Then she was suddenly being squeezed by the other girl, wincing in response. "Oh for fuck's sake," she muttered, but found herself hugging back. "I thought that psycho nabbed you or something," she explained. "But you look fine to me--have plenty of energy," she noted as the tight embrace started to add to the overall soreness she was already feeling.

To Survive the End. (Post Apocalyptic Rp)

Lillah blinked as a voice echoed down--or up?--the stairs. It was a woman's voice, though there wasn't much confidence in it and that sounded vaguely familiar. Although she was confident she could take another woman, Lillah wasn't too enthusiastic about the possibility of that woman having a firearm. So that kept her from moving from her hiding place. However, the voice's familiarity kept her from moving, as well. Her eyes wandered about the room, looking for a possible escape--the elevator most likely wasn't working, but if she could get the doors open, she was strong enough in her arms to climb down the cables. With a tentative escape plan established, Lillah peeked out from behind the desk. "Steph?" she called to the stairs, tensing in case she was wrong.

To Survive the End. (Post Apocalyptic Rp)

CaptBoobgrab said
Kidd, before Jim left, he madd some sort of escape mechanism in the 13th and 12th floor. Basically the elevator shafts in there was jammed open and a cord dangled, but I think it was used as binding for Doc. If you want, maybe Lillah could find that.

Ohh, okay. Yeah, I remember reading about that. If she decides to bolt before Steph finds her, I'll have her attempt to use it.

To Survive the End. (Post Apocalyptic Rp)

When the air was quiet for a bit, Lillah hesitantly peeked around the desk. No one had appeared--yet. Maybe it was just those two, she thought, remembering that the psycho and some other man had walked out of the building before she came in. I guess I should just leave, then. There wasn't much point to sticking around if the building was empty--especially since the two men could come back at any moment. But there were still plenty of floors to explore, and even if she didn't find Steph, she might find some supplies. "Hmm," she muttered, turning away from the edge to lean against the desk again, juggling her options.

To Survive the End. (Post Apocalyptic Rp)

solamelike said
Wouldn't one things that necrophiliac's like is that they don't move? Like surely that's a part of it? So I wouldn't say so....

Well Idk, some people consider Twilight a story about a choice between bestiality and necrophilia. And zombies are basically walking corpses.

The Path Ahead

Lillah followed leader boy's example and took it upon herself to grab another couple of the bags left for them. She imagined her physical strength would come in handy out in the wilderness, but she didn't have much of anything else to offer. Already, the dark thoughts that had been becoming less and less frequent as she approached the end of the school year were coming back in rapid fire.

With a bleak gaze, she followed the group to the clearing by the stream. Her and her father had been camping once, the summer before her freshman year at Midcreek High School. They had been far much closer then than they were at the end. He had teased her about her dependence on technology: "you're not bringing your Gameboy either," he had decided, to which she explained that the DS wasn't a Gameboy. In response, he only added her phone to a list of things she wasn't allowed to have in the woods. Regardless, the trip was fun--disconnecting from the stress of everyday life had really helped curb her depression.

Now it was just amplifying it, and the memories of what once was only hurt.

She barely noticed when leader boy disappeared to gather firewood--otherwise she would've offered to help in order to blow off some of her steam. With her sweatshirt on, she probably looked rather slim; however, underneath the clothing she had toned, muscular arms that could rival the strength of a young man. Soon enough, tents were being set up, but she only dropped the bags she had carried and sat back, seeing but not really observing as the group worked. The guilt of not helping wouldn't set until much later if at all.

Soon enough, they had a fire going as well, and that gave her something else to stare at for the time being. The night was cool; however, she stayed where she was. She didn't want to bond with these people. I want to leave, she thought, though she had no where to go. Keeping her eyes on the fire, she wasn't too aware of the commotion going on around her.

Although she was trying to collect her thoughts, she soon gave up on that: anything she was thinking was a repeat of the night's events or how much she didn't want to be here in any sense of the word. Fuck, she thought, knowing she had to give herself a distraction. So she reluctantly got up from her seat against the tree and walked over to sit by the fire. She settled down just as the comedian retreated into his tent with his dog and a wink that she didn't catch--not that she was looking out for guys flirting with her anyway. She sat halfway between both Raven and leader boy, her eyes flickering to the Frenchie beside him.

She opened her mouth to speak to the young woman she knew to be Raven, but Mr. Michael DeLorenzo decided to declare a speech to the camp instead. She held in a sigh of annoyance, and managed to stare at him evenly as he spoke. It sounded like he was implying that whatever happened tonight was not some random act of terrorism. She couldn't find the strength to dwell on it in that moment, though, and was distracted by his gestures. Is he seriously crossing himself? she thought as his speech came to a close, feeling her anger flare up. She didn't have a problem with the religious types, but she did not enjoy the talkative religious types.

Jesus fucking Christ, just count to ten, she told herself as she looked back to the fire with furrowed eyebrows and her lips set into a straight line, angry that she was angry. So, she drew in a long breath and exhaled, counting up from one in her mind. When she finally reached ten, she licked her lips and allowed her gaze to wander over the other students. The red head called Raffy stepped up and introduced herself--she seemed to be doing her best to stay smiling. Raven went next. Then the leader boy--Leon--offered his name and that was it. The tomboy followed his example.

"Lillah," she finally offered in a flat tone, realizing that if she really didn't want to be dead by morning, she'd have to find for herself some reasons to live.

To Survive the End. (Post Apocalyptic Rp)

Trap card: activated.

To Survive the End. (Post Apocalyptic Rp)

Lillah opened the door to the stairwell and drew in a long breath before taking her first step. It wasn't so bad until she put her weight on her wounded leg to take the next step, and she nearly dropped her bat as she grabbed at the railing to keep from falling. "Fuck," she laughed bitterly. "Okay, you got this..." she sighed and took the next step. And then the next step. It was a slow process, but with every step it got a little better. Eventually she wasn't even pausing between steps, though the going was still slow.

At each floor, she would pause to not only catch her breath, but peek into the immediate room as well. She'd whisper into the emptiness, "Steph?" with her bat ready in case anybody but Steph responded.

That pattern was finally interrupted, though, when she tripped over something and stumbled into a room as cans fell over each other and onto the floor, making far more noise than she'd expect. "Shit--no," she hissed, glancing back at the wire she fell over. "Fuck," she uttered, pushing herself to feet as quickly as she could and slipping into the office to take cover behind one of the desks. Now that she was still again, the pain in her leg was acting up and she grit her teeth as she sat pressed against the desk, not even daring to peek at the mess by the door.