Achronum
Forsythe
RPM
kittyluna45
Scrawl Banditta
Not a Sayan
KazAlkemi
Neziul
Jack Hudson
Location: Building F
Jack rubbed her back, enjoying the comfort of Tatiana's embrace. He recalled the very first moment he met her, with the walker that had attacked her and the absence of her friend. The very first word she had ever said to him, so simple but he could still recall it: da. The memories ran through his mind, and a tear trickled down his face, holding her closer. Time was like sand, slipping through his fingers with each and every passing moment. He couldn't bear to forget a single moment he had spent with Tatiana.
The truck. The colorful backpack. The chicken dance. Monopoly. All of it had brought him hope, it had brought him life once more. He wasn't complete without another person, something he deeply understood after he had lost Sutton. But with Tatiana...He never had to be alone ever again
"Tati, I love ya," Jack said, his hands shaking a bit with nerves. He glanced down at his feet, before looking up again, nearly bonking his head against hers. "I know evahy guy says they'he no good at romance but...Well, I would've asked my mom for advice on how to do this," he admitted, laughing a bit at himself. He knew what he wanted to do, what he wanted to ask her, and he wanted it to be perfect. The thought had crossed his mind about asking her that night, after the performance, but his fear told him not to. Death could come at any time. It wouldn't wait for him.
"You don't have to say yes but...I'd be lost without you, solovey," Jack continued, clearing his throat. Careful not to step on Tatiana's feet, he got down onto one knee, and revealed the ring. Made out of a tiny bit of rope, the knot was in the shape of a heart. "Will you make me the luckiest guy alive an' marry me?"
Édouard Riviere
Location: Heard County High School (Franklin)
Mood Music
Mood Music
Édouard flinched slightly as the sponge was rammed into his chest, feeling the soapy mess drip down all over him. His clothes may have been covered in the walker bits from earlier, but he had gotten fond of the rugged look it gave him. The sponge dropped, and Édouard nudged it with the toe of his boot. He glanced up at Lyon's commands, before wearily picking up the sponge, his leg protesting as he bent it. He knew that Lyon spoke French, and any complaints from Édouard in that language wouldn't be appreciated.
Questo è il lavoro dello schiavo, Édouard thought to himself, making a mental shift into Italian. Angelo non mi ha fatto fare questo. Angelo had been Édouard's bodyguard growing up. Rather than force him to learn English and all of the silly, irritating chores his tutors insisted upon, Angelo (or Angie, as Édouard affectionately called him) let Édouard choose. The boy was going to be the leader as soon as he became of age, and according to Angelo, that meant if Édouard didn't want to learn English, he didn't have to. Others would have to bend to Édouard's will and accommodate him--not the other way around. This very philosophy stayed with Édouard, and it was Angelo who taught Édouard to speak Italian. He was the closest thing to a father Édouard ever had.
Non c'è dignità in questo, Édouard thought, with a scowl. Wordlessly, he began to scrub away at the blood and guts, hardly phased. Alisanne's cruel smile echoed in his mind almost. She would have enjoyed this--perhaps she had even gone about this same process with another. Darcey was far kinder. She would have simply put a bullet in Édouard's head.
"Est-ce que vous avez connu mes sœurs?" Édouard finally asked, staring Lyon in the eye. "Alisanne était comme vous."
