ONL

Current Mood in One Gif

🧚🏻‍♀️ The Walking Dead - Year 6 Part 1

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Alexander Polawski Location: CMB Graveyard (Bus) Skills: N/A

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Besides the chattering between the proper members of CMB and their assigned guards, it would seem their whole group fell into a lull of silence after Manny's comment to Alexander. It felt like a deep silence, one everyone either fell into by accident or one people entered for some peace and quiet. Alexander had been in many a times of utter silence before, but this was different, not enforced by someone else or brought forth by fear. It was…cathartic in a sense.

Alexander felt yet a greater sense of inner peace when he felt a hand placed into his own - Thalia's hand. She had accepted his little gesture. Alexander didn't pertrude the silence, only shot her the briefest of look before returning his gaze out the window. When she gave him a squeeze and pulled her hand back, Alexander squeezed it back and returned his own hand to his lap, glad Thalia had taken it. It felt like the proper thing to do, to show her she was one he cared for. One of many he cared for these days, one of a handful he had in his prayers each night before bed. Judith had shown him that. Don't tell, show it.

Slowly but surely the bus had traversed the distance between the graveyard and the gates of CMB - their new home. A trip of that time and length, however brief, had always sent a sense of dread to old Mugsy before. Back when he was alone or was with his handful of loved ones - Thana, Beatrice, Thalia and Manny- anything could happen, just look at what happened to them time and time again after Eden. The fact that this had been a safe travel back and forth the outside almost didn't sit well with Alexander, like he knew something would happen. It always did, didn't it? Listening to Daytona informing them they were almost home told him otherwise.

If then all went well, Alexander would get some work done with Thalia, eat dinner and then look for the General. He had not forgotten their arrangement from the night before.

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Nigel Cooper Location: Administration (A) Skills: N/A

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Nigel kept his distance behind Thana as they now stood in the Administration building, having determined to let his superiour do the talking and making the arrangements for whatever files they had to…well, file. Keeping quiet Nigel took the time to simply gazing around the room and its contents, besides the nail-filing lady and Thana. Now that sweat was rolling less down his face and he could actually see without shielding his eyes, he was paying more attention to the interiour than anything else. Air-condition, the counter and a scene right out of any reception in a typical American small town, Nigel was still wrapping him mind around the normality surrounding him.

It came as a surprise when he was finally spoken to, yet the voice that spoke wasn't Thana's. Suddenly there was a hand extended out to him and a older lady's voice talking to him straight out of Gone With the Wind. Nigel turned around unbalanced and got a good look of Rolodex, catching Thana's look that could only be of pity. Why, he couldn't tell, but having gotten to know her meant his gut was following Thana's look.

Nigel reached out and shook Rolodex's hand, as his ma and pa had taught him, and gave her a friendly, polite smile. "Pleasent to meet you. Nigel Cooper. I've only just arrived, but I assume that was a given." Nigel introduced himself as best he could, unsure of how to proceed thanks to Thana's visual warning. Pulling back his hand and scracthing the back of his neck, Nigel stood sheepisly for a moment, before biting the sling-shot. "So…since I've only just entered this fortified polis, how does the paper work…work?"

🧚🏻‍♀️ The Walking Dead - Year 6 Part 1

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Alexander Polawski Location: CMB Graveyard (Bus) Skills: N/A

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The presence of his dearly beloved Angel with more force grown up inside of her than most people he'd known, with few strong exceptions, went unnoticed by old Mugsy as he looked out the window for a good second or two. Yes he could see her in the edge of his sight and hear her speak to him in her restrained Boston voice, but he didn't respond immediatly. The thoughts that had haunted him during his time in the cemetery, followed him most of his life actually, they had drowned her out.

"Hm?" Alexander mumbled from his absentmindedness , turning around and looking at Thalia sitting in the bus seat and looking as deadpan as she ever did. He didn't judge her though, they all had a lot to process, not the least her. "Yeah, sure thing Angel. Uncle Sam still need us after all." He quiped, stiffling a sigh and straightening himself up in the seat. "Pull yourself together, old man." he'd tell himself, just like Sergaent Jackson would have told him, like so many others in his life told him. Be a man and all that. Judith was the only one who didn't listen to that bullshit, because she listened to him.

As the bus starting up again with everyone seated and accounted for, the thought of therapy crossed Alexander's mind again…maybe it was a good idea after all.

Manny also found his way over to Alexander, sitting beside him and giving the usual optimistic commentary the post-apocalyptic dentist Alexander knew him for. And that smile, that stupid smile of his which somehow helped. Did dentists smile as much as Manny did? Alexander couldn't remember. "I don't know. It is sure a lot better to give them a proper burial. Helps us moving on as they move to God. We can only do our best to, quote; "not fuck up", as my old sergeant Jackson always told us." Alexander said to Manny, taking a deep breath in of fresh air-conditioned air that filled him with new vigour. It was unusal for him to mention someone from his military past, especially by name, but it had happened.

Almost as unusal was for Thalia to thank everyone on the bus the way she did. Alexander turned to look at her again, pulling the side of his lip into a smile and nodding to her compassionatly. "Yeah, thanks everyone, and you…" It was emotional, without any doubt it was for everyone. Losing someone never got easier. Alexander patted Manny on his shoulder and reached the palm of his hand out to Thalia to do as she wished.

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Nigel Cooper Location: Streets of CMB (N5) -> Administration (A) Skills: N/A

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Things were far too lax there? Nigel didn't show it in a massive spectacle of disbelief, but he didn't quite understand what Thana was going on about. The neo-Roman had some trouble seeing how much more stricter the security of Camp Mexico Beach, having been through it himself after having spent as much time out in the undead wild as he had. As they kept walking through the streets of CMB, Nigel couldn't help but compare that experience to someone stepping out of the Nubian Desert into the grand cities of the pharaoes for the first time.

Perhaps that was why he didn't see what Thana saw? He had to admit he'd grown softer those past days in quarantine and within the safety of sturdy walls. Perhaps Thana was right, Nigel certainly knew to what lenghts they themselves had gone in order to keep their own settlement safe. Kept people outside, starving and freezing, their lives dictacted by the dead that followed them…Would he need to harden himself again?

Thankfully Thana quiped back more cheerfully about the children and their training. Nigel had to chuckle in surprise alongside her, giving the black haired kid a second look as they passed. Impressive was the least he could say of the thought that a lone kid could disarm Gregory…whoever this Gregory was, which he couldn't recall. Just like Thana it seemed, they were trained from a very young age. "Well about you I'm not surprised, but those younglings? Sounds like they've recieved the best of both Athenian and Spartan education. My pa' mostly taught me how to smith horse shoes, shovelheads and the like. It would be an honour to teach them if I'm placed in Education." Nigel admitted, hoping to teach them proper sword-fighting techniques and warfare of the Ancient world.

Nigel followed Thana closely as they finally reached their destination - the Administration building, again blessed with the modern marvel of air-conditioning and the less modern shade. Of course it was quite the enviromental change to Nigel's body once he stepped inside, but it thanked him sooner rather than later. An older looking lady sat filing her nails like a certain librarian had done at his campus back in the day. Nigel couldn't place that lady either, and let Thana once again do the talking for both of them. She knew what they were doing after all, he was just her slave.

Voluntary slave…no, didn't sound any better.

Current Mood in One Gif

🧚🏻‍♀️ The Walking Dead - Year 6 Part 1

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Alexander Polawski Location: Graveyard -> Bus Skills: N/A

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People were affected by the small ceremony they all had particepated in, however simple and brief it had been so far. All in their different ways, including Alexander himself, they all met death differently. He himself had shed a few tears in silence, some hugged and others did nothing. The stoic stance of Ash made Alexander give him a brief look, imagining what was going through the man's mind, probably the same that had filled his own many years ago in the same situation…

Scenes from many funerals…

…Another humid day in the middle of God knew where, somewhere located in South Vietnam. A military base, an American one to be specific. Rows of soldiers in uniform stood around a single man wearing a cross and the Army's padre uniform, wielding a Bible and sermoning over a casket. Several caskets, strewn with burial banners with the names of the dead, some of which Special Polawski had known personally, some not. All were catholics, now united in death. The priest spoke with a voice that only a mournful, yet comforting father could compare, all the soldiers' eyes and ears paying attention.

Alexander had heard that prayer many times before, both before and then in his military life. He knew one of those guys in the caskets, a guy of Mexican descent and with a temperament that rivalled his own father. But he was friendly to those he cared about, helped Alexander catch up with the squad if falling behind stuck on his vegatation. And just like that, he was gone. The others Alexander didn't care too much about, but he?

"O God, Whose property is always to have mercy and to spare, we humbly beseech Thee for the soul of Thy servant Pedro Gonzalvas…"

…With raining pouring down on the funeral procession, the Chicago autumn weather only made the bural attendants all the more somber. The crowd was far from a large one, only amounting to ten-fifteen people at most, a limping young man in a military uniform standing at the front. A single casket was to be put in the ground, the catholic priest wielding a Bible and sermoning over the casket. With the sermon taking its course, Alexander Polawski couldn't take his eyes of the soon-to-be grave of his father. Not a day had passed since he stepped on American soil before he was told his father was dead.

He felt nothing, at least not anything powerful enough to overcome all the other feelings writhing inside him. It was an emptiness that rivalled the body of the man lying in the casket and the prospect of the world having anything resembling meaning. Empty and dark. War or not, it followed Alexander wherever he went.

"O God, Whose property is always to have mercy and to spare, we humbly beseech Thee for the soul of Thy servant William Mathis Polawski…"

…The wind blew the usual sea-salted air across the island, though failing to drown out the words spoken around the newly dug grave of their last dead. There were a handful of them, laid to rest in hand-made caskets by someone not trained in the craft, but they would have to do. None of them were of the clergy, so the prayer to the recently deceased should be spoken by the group of survivors most experienced man in this matter. Alexander couldn't do it.

He stood staring at the casket to his wife, now dead and gone with the Florida wind that must be weeping alongside him. How could it not? This was the worst day of his life, and how it could keep on going after he could not fathom. He blocked out those thoughts, all the things penetrating his mind telling him all those terrible things. He couldn't. All he could do was to stand there and weep as their buried his wife and the others taken by the Undead.

"O God, Whose property is always to have mercy and to spare, we humbly beseech Thee for the soul of Thy servant Judith Perkins Polawski…"

They were leaving. Atticus told them their time was up and it was time to return to the bus. Alexander blinked the running tears from his eyes, wiping his cheeks and straightening up. Walking up to the bus with the others and lining up like the good grunt on a patrol he'd once been, his eyes drifted back to the gravstones dotting the landscape one last time. Nothing said, nothing done, only a brief look and a deep thought that stuck with him as he handed over the shotgun and satchel of shells to Bass. He didn't know how or when, if it was even possible, but one wish was growing brighter and stronger inside his heart as he entered the bus and sat down.

Could he bury her there, close to him? Would that be his redemption?

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Nigel Cooper Location: Hydroponic Garden (T) -> Streets of CMB (N5) Skills: N/A

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Atlas. Yeah, Nigel could grow accustomed to being called that as well, why not? Though with a saddened smile on her face, Nigel had perhaps helped drawn Thana out of her saddening vision and back to the realm of the living, if that was what she'd been thinking about. Nigel reciprocated the smile, feeling the pat on his own shoulder like a comforting reasurrance, one he hadn't gotten for a long time beside Erica. Giving her a nod, Nigel agreed and followed Thana back outside. "Works for me. Let's go make the Roman annals proud."

Today had been, all things considered, a good day for Nigel. Besides the enjoyable company of Thana the Athenian, he'd gotten into a certain rhythm - one involving waking up in a comfortable bed, getting dressed in clean and non-tattered clothes, eating two meals so far and doing some important work for the new Magna Gracia colony. He was doing something meaningful, something normal. Again his mind wandered back to the interview and the Professor's question of "normalcy". He smiled to himself. This felt normal. Who knew how normal he'd feel if and when he'd get back into a classroom?

Not to mention, as he though, he'd gotten a new friend.

Nigel followed Thana through the sun-baked streets of Camp Mexico, Apollo pearing down at the mortals hurrying through the heat on their own ways. While Thana went on to tell him more about the Bayou-people and a trade of people that didn't go well, Nigel listened casually while noting the groups of children passing by as well. Nigel had still not gotten used to seeing the younglings running about as carefree as before, and perhaps he never would after what happened in at Spartanburg. "Must have been something serious considering how strict they've been with us. Not that I'm complaining, been fair so far." Nigel commented to Thana, following across the street and walking down the main street alongside her. Main street, down towards the Administration Building - the Conciliabulum he would call it. "From the sound of it, you haven't been in dire need of more hands though? At least not when those younglings will grow up and take our place. I hope they'll be prepared for the world out there though…"

The Rain In The Cycolpean City. (H.P. Lovecraft/Cthulhu Mythos Roleplay)

Richard Barker

"Yeah, sure thing Detective Garther, since you asked nicely. I'll make sure he comes along, peacefully." Richard told Dirk as the small group of the cop, fake cop and the Italian fella walk off to their set of wheels further down the street. He himself was put on baby-sitting duty for their good doctor, though Richard's harsh comment earlier was more his to-the-face attitude than annoyance.

Turning over to Alonzo, Richard touched the tip of his fedora and nodded to him with his scarred nose. "Being the true gentelman a New Yorker I am, wouldn't dream of anything else. Dr. Scott was it? Barker, Richard Barker. Before you ask, yeah I'm a shamus. Private detective, finding what's bothering people just like you do Doc." Richard introduced himsef to the doctor, flicking the dead ash off his cigarette and turning back towards Jeremy's pile of planks and bricks. So the two last fellas were still inside? That didn't make any sense.

Richard was about to ask Alonzo about that Chinese angle when he had the good doctor shouted in his ear like an incompetent nurse had just stabbed him in the private parts. "What are you flim-flamming about, old man?" Richard asked the doctor, giving him a long face at first as if he was talking to someone else. When he was told someone was trapped inside the house and to get Dirk back, Richard looked back and forth the old house and Alonzo. "I've got a feeling I'm stuck behind the 8-ball here. What the Hell are you on about, doc?"

It was not until he heard a noise from the house - a loud and brief one, something breaking through wood. Was that the sound Alonzo had heard, assuming someone was stuck inside? Richard sighed heavily, instinctively drawing his Colt Police Revolver as he began jogging towards the house, wondering if their promised bad guys had just gotten the jump on Ambroise and James. If that were the case, Alonzo's need for Dirk to return would be too late. "No time if someone's sent Ambroise and James on a permanent New Jersey vacation. James, Ambroise! You hear me in there? What's the trouble?"

Why he couldn't hear or see neither James nor Ambroise could only be answered by the powers that may be, something only a King or follower would know.

🧚🏻‍♀️ The Walking Dead - Year 6 Part 1

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Alexander Polawski Location: Graveyard Skills: N/A

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While Alexander himself had little more to say than his brief farewell with Lola, others clearly had more to get of their chests. He didn't mind, and why should he? It was still saddening to hear the others he still knew little about, hear them talk about the souls resting at his very feet. While they spoke, Alexander would silently look at those people and those graves respectively, knowing this was the respectful way. Been there, done that before. He had lost count on how many funerals of soldiers KIA he'd attended, people and units he'd never heard of. But they were all brothers in arms, and the same applied to these people.

After Amelia had said farewell earlier, it was Ash's turn speaking of Ryan and James in differing substance. At least the James name rang a bell in Alexander's mind, mostly reinforced by Thalia's reaction to him way back when they all first stumbled upon eachother. While he himself didn't know the man, the story Ash related made an impression on old Mugsy, the tears that had gently dripped earlier continuing to come. It was a brilliantly ridiculous one that mirrored the shows on TV James had apparenly hailed from, and the crazy tales ol' Mugsy had both partaken in and heard of in 'Nam. It was a man he sure would have liked to know, yet now all he could do was to pray for his soul.

Thalia had less to say about Lola, though the impact was none the less one of a great lady. A crazy TANK-driving Kiwi who wanted to drink tea, but a great one. Died with a song on her lips, how poetic. Alexander knew she was the closest one to Lola and been for a some time, letting her speak what little she said. He had said his part, there was little else to do. Finally she would get a date on her grave and her full name. She would be missed too, that crazy Kiwi.

Alexander gave a look over to Manny who he saw mouthed something quietly, nodding in silence at whatever was said. He assumed it was something akin to the many thanks and farewells the rest of them had given. A silent nod and a brief smile, Alexander knew Manny hadn't met most of these people, the last one only for a living moment. Still, Alexander appriciated Manny coming along. He was a good man, the best dentist on this side of the world.

Then there was not much left to say. Atticus gave them a few more minutes to bid farewell to their lost ones. Alexander was left standing alone for himself, shotgun pointed down to the ground and his eyes lifted up to one of the trees occupying the cemetery. He wondered…where would he be laid to rest when his time came, and would he be fit to return to the arms of his Lord when the time was right? And would they be there, all of them?

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Nigel Cooper Location: Hydroponic Garden (T) Skills: N/A

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The gentle breeze of Amphitrite was not to last forever, like all good things were to pass. In an instant, while Thana enlighted him on the current issues of the wicked barbarians living beyond their protective walls, the breeze that had cooled the greenhouse ceased to blow. Nigel felt the halting of the air like a rock thrown at his head and shoulders, weighing him down once again with the unbareable heat he was yet to grown used to.

Wiping his forehead for the beads of sweat once again, Nigel continued to listen to Thana and what she had to say about the so-called Bayou people. Ferals, Mad Max, Waterworld, references to movies he knew he'd seen and perhaps would want to see again. At least those with Kevin Costner, though preferable as Robin Hood. "They don't sound like the sorts you want integrated into your camp, do they?" Nigel commented through himself changing into his last pair of clothes and shoes like Thana, though wondering why they bothered if they were to work inside the greenhouse in that heat.

Thankfully Thana recived the divine wisdom of Athena to withdraw from the infernal forges of Mars, much to Nigel's joy. With a tired smile and an untrained salute, Nigel followed Thana outside into the lesser evil humid heat. "Yes ma'am, not going to ask twice for that." He replied, though noting her trailing off and closing her eyes when talking about Eden. Eden, that wretched place of devils he had heard about. Nigel was still curious as to how bad the place had been, though the look on Thana's face told the Roman teacher to let it be. "Hey, Athena, let's go get that paperwork done. I'll show you I know how to wield a pen like a sword. Come." Nigel tried to distract her from whatever she was thinking, awkwardly laying his sweaty hand on her shoulder, not knowing what to do. He was a neo-Roman, not a well-trained Greek diplomat for Jupiter's sake!

The Rain In The Cycolpean City. (H.P. Lovecraft/Cthulhu Mythos Roleplay)

Richard Barker

Silence. Utter and desolute silence permiated Richard's senses as he looked down the stairs again, after having taking a brief look earlier. At first he had thought he caught the sight of the two members left down in the hallway, shouting down at them something about what the suckers outside were shouting about, what he himself found upstairs and their opinions on the newly-found box. But as he took a second look down the staircase, his brows raised far up his face and jaw dropped slightly, almost losing the cigarette in the process.

Where the fuck had they gone?

"Uhm…fellas? Anderson, Ambroise? Ah chucks, they left me high and dry…" Richard muttered to himself under his breath, seeing himself alone in the house that desperately needed a new paint stroke. Or rather, it needed to be demolished and rebuilt by some proper labourers. Richard sighed, putting the box down at his feet as he took off his fedora, running his hand through his greasy hair and putting the hat back on. Well, if he was alone, at least no one could put their nose in his business.

Sitting down onto the stairs, Richard began fiddling with the clues he had found so far, the cigarette dangling back and forth in his mouth like the weight on a grandfather's clock would. A box, an alarm clock and a piece of paper. Nearly a complete paper trail. Aha, Richard would 'never' get tired of chasing paper around…yeah right, like he was a pencil pusher.

First of all, the paper then. Opening it, Richard was unsure what he saw imprinted on the faded paper. "What do we have here…looks like an inkdot…octopus?" Richard questioned himself, wondering just what the imprint was and what it was made of. Charcoal? It only put forward more questions than it answered.

Second was the clock, odd as it was. Why had Jeremy, or this "Harry" have it hidden underneath the bed? Richard toyed with it for a moment, lifting it up and rattling it ever so slightly. Rattling, and not just the sound of a broken clock. Something big was hidded inside. Richard pulled out his set of lockpicks, choosing a thick screwdriver-looking tool and catching the edge of the clock's backside. Eventually, perhaps after a few minutes of fiddling, he got it off, revealing the clock's contents. A key. "Oh let me guess, this is the Key to this puzzle? Ha…ha…real funny, Jeremy, you absolute clown…"

Richard, not being amused at all by the bullshittery that was occupying his day, decided to check the chest and get over with it. He had a hell of a lot of questions to have his mind ponder over, and too many questions popping up for him to process alone. The chest was fair enough to lockpick open, only taking him another five minutes or so. Inside he found…yet more paper - A journal. Quickly turning the pages and only getting glimpses of its contents, Richard got an eire feeling in his stomach, one that had in reality been there since he first looked at the imprint on the paper and the hidded key. Something bad, something dark…like when he knew he was stepping into a bad alleyway, and someone wasn't walking out alive.

"Jesus Christ in a handbasket, I need a coffee…and Irish coffee, whiskey and secterian split and all…" Richard muttered angrily, wearily under his breath, tucking the journal inside his jacket alongside the other pieces of evidence he'd picked up. Something about those things sent a shiver down his spine, or perhaps it was the moldy interiour that got to him. Whatever it was, Richard decided to exit the house after what had felt like an hour on the inside snooping around.

He did not expect the welcoming-comittee he was greeted with.

"Of all the rain-soaked dead-end holes I wander into, and I'm greeted by you?" Richard exclaimed as he heard him being shouted at, squinting his eyes underneath that brown fedora as he realized who was talking to him. Dirk Garther, fellow former NYPD beatcop and equally miserable son of a bitch. "Oh I remember you, green-bag. You're the square new guy at the club house that couldn't tell a stool pidgeon from a torpedo. Good to see you though, you're right; you can really use me."

Clearly the group had grown by one more stooge at this point, a tower of guy who looked like he came straight out of Harlem on a good day, unlike this one. Another guy who knew Jeremy? This was getting weird indeed. Richard mouthed his cigarette and let out a long puff of smoke, signalling everyone that he was noting the conversation silently. Too bad he waited too long, for Dirk let the tounge slip that Harry was dead and they were to follow him to the police station - in Dirk's car. "To Hell with that, Dirk. How am I supposed to get back home? Cab, out here in this God-forsaken place? Nah, you know me, I'll be right behind you." Richard retorted, refusing to simply get in Dirk's car like a common thug. Either he'd have to be forced at gunpoint or have a real good reason why Richard wouldn't follow him in his own car, and so far something else was much MUCH more important, as Richard looked at the group.

"And just where has Mr. Ambrose and Mr. Anderson gone? Did they scamper off while you guys chatted over tea and cookes? "

🧚🏻‍♀️ The Walking Dead - Year 6 Part 1

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Alexander Polawski Location: Graveyard Skills: N/A

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There was a painful ache somewhere in Alexander, a sort of black hole that kept the old veteran's guard up as the group got together outside the bus. He couldn't place its location, rather it seemed to glow from wherever he was feeling after. While his eyes and ears were shifting past each member attending what would be his first funeral gathering in many moons, his stance echoing Atticus' cautionary tale, Alexander tried to isolate the pain inside him.

They started moving. While Alexander wasn't actively ignoring the story Daytona told Thalia about the fool named Dimsdale, he continued his attempt at supressing the pain distracting him from being alert. Yes they were a number of armed survivors with enough weapons to defend themselves, but in his opinion, nine out of ten times it was the guy not paying attention that got the first VC bullet, not that he could back it up with any concrete facts. Then again was he paying attention himself? The pain kept being a, well, pain in the bud. Perhaps it was the swan-dive that had roughened up his arse?

Alexander was swept of these searching thoughts as they reached their final destination - the graves proper. The sun shined as bright and annoyingly down at them as ever, sweat pouring down Alexander's face when he'd be much happier with a pair of good sunglasses and a Boonie hat, though that didn't cross his mind at that time. With Atticus announcing their arrival and asking the group whether they wanted him to say some words, Alexander looked blankly down at the graves, in particular the one belonging to a certain Kiwi.

The pain centered itself in his chest. Sorrow, grief, sadness. Alexander was sad.

It was by his sheer force of will that Alexander didn't fall on his knees in front of the graves, though he looked at them with an empty look. The others he didn't know or had only known real briefly relative to Lola, though that didn't make it any easier for a man who'd seen enough death for one life. Did he want Atticus to say anything? What was there to say, they were put to rest in the ground already. Alexander stiffled a quiver and held back most of the tears, simply crossing himself and looking over to Thalia. Lola had been her friend before they met in a TANK, she knew more about that strange Kiwi.

"I don't know. Thanks for the ride, Lola, and for the coffee. Keep the tea-set ready for us, would you?" Alexander said quietly, emotionally, though audible enough for most people to hear him. Whether he spoke to Thalia, Lola or himself was up for grabs, but somewhere inside him the pain both intensified and released, a brief smile tugging at his face. "May their souls and the souls of all the faithful departed, through the mercy of God, rest in peace…"

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Nigel Cooper Location: Hydroponic Garden (T) Skills: N/A

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The mood was certainly lighter still back at the lesser Hanging Gardens of Babylon, at least this section of the grand wonder of the apocalypse world, and in no thanks to the dreadful humidity that weighed heavy on Nigel's shoulders. Thana's revelation had done more than enough to make Nigel forget about it though, the talk of other centers of human civilisation still making a stand outside of Camp Mexico Beach. And following her inside the greenhouse, he was eager to learn more from thought-lost bastions of humanity.

Nigel listened eagerly to Thana's tales, nearly forgetting what he was supposed to do though following her lead in the change of clothes. It was almost to good to be true, just like the wind blew through the pipes and made the dephts of Hades less miserable for those mere mortals. Through the exchange Nigel only nodded and gave the occational "Wow…" and such. For better and for worse, now he knew there existed other settlements outside of these protective walls - papermills and all! He was impressed, and it wasn't difficult to read the astonishment on his sweaty face.

"Well I guess shocked is a good of an adjective as I'll ever teach the younglings, if that's were I end up here among you. A working papermill? That would explain how you can afford giving us all these tests and forms you've done, and agreed, toilet paper is a luxury on-par with Chinese silk these days. But…" Nigel said back to Thana, getting off his wetsuit and re-dressing in his own shorts and t-shirt, glad to feel some air on his skin again. It was Thana's mention of a second group that made Nigel's excitement blow away like the humid air inside. "Who're those guys then, the Bayou? You mean all "dueling-banjoes" and frightening hill billies? Barbarians?" Nigel asked her, not liking the tone which she'd set for those people. These days you couldn't cherry-pick your friends, Sportucas had learned that thanks to the dynamic hetero-duo early, but still. Thana's words didn't conjure up a pleasent image of them. "Should I…or we be worried?"

One good thing about today.

Job interview went well, ate a good salad for lunch and generally felt like I did good. Good day.