TheDookieNut

Winter's Child

The journey home was quiet and as each of the three watched their elders disappear into the snow, they felt even more lonely. No one spoke. Each of them walked in silence, treading as if something terrible had happened between them. Regardless, they walked. One foot was placed in front of the other, each taking a brisk pace to get themselves home. To see Rannor. Or to know they didn't realize what Ysabel was. She'd be slaughtered if they found out. A heretic. A traitor. The Gods wouldn't be able to save her. If the King found out, there would be no way to stop Thyme. The men sighed, quietly. Thoughts wondering hard and far, travelling to places they called home, or to places that were far warmer than the snow they walked upon.

Several hours passed, or so each of them suspected. They shared a quiet meal of sourdough and set off walking again. They didn't have time for camp, or so Roran told them. His pace was faster and more determined of all the boys. He needed to find out if she was still alive. If she was who he thought, she'd not be safe until she hit the God's Waste and found the first well. It was a long walk, or so the stories went. A pilgrimage to the holiest of cities to the first temple of Mirelda, where all God's Children are sent to be proven. The priestess in such a temple is said to be the direct connection to the Gods. However, stories like that go unproven and had died with age.
"Slow down. You'll kill us before we get home." Gilly shouted, stopping to drink a mouthful of water. The group stumbled to a stop, Roran halting reluctantly ahead.

"We have to hurry."

"Why exactly? What is it that's so important to you? It can't be Harron's cooking." Howan commenting, joining Gilly in taking a drink. Roran rolled his eyes and sighed. "Well?"

"She's not safe there."

"Of course it's about the girl." Gilly joined in, shouting as he tucked his waterskin back onto his waist.

"It's not like that." Roran shouted, watching as each of them shifted a hand to their weapons.

"Then what is it?"

Roran couldn't answer. There was no way they'd understand. He couldn't tell them.
"We just need to hurry. You'll understand soon enough." The blonde started to walk again, heading off at the same speedy pace as before. He needed to know she was okay. As the group began to walk again, Howan and Gilly began to talk amoungst themselves. It was pleasant background noise for the group to walk to, but nothing Roran considered important.

By the early hours of the next morning, the three of them returned to the walls of Cannor, all three weary and tired. They disarmed and stumbled into their rooms, sleeping almost instantly. Gilly was out faster than he'd ever seen a man sleep before and Howan was pale with nausea before he finally drifted off. Roran had to fight fatigue for some time before he headed down to the place he'd found Ysabel to be. It hadn't taken much questioning to find out exactly where they'd taken her. Roran hurried around corners and up a flight of stairs before finally reaching the door. He knocked lightly.

Running. Dead. Infected. (The Walking Dead/The Last of Us Style RP)

Emilie lowered her bow and looked towards the window. Cameron was right, there was a high chance the stranger had friends.
"This land may be claimed, I suggest we look quicker." She hushed. Although their presence was known, none of them knew what was upstairs. There may have been infected or inhabitants living in the walls up above them. They didn't need to alert every clicker in the town. She placed down her bag and began to glance through cupboards. Rotten. Inedible. Useless. Empty. They were all words that passed her lips as she filtered through the various shelves. Eventually, she found two peach cans and handed them down to Cameron. They needed medicine more than food. Rain was their worst enemy and the clouds hadn't looked promising for days. She dropped down quietly onto the floor again and quickly picked up her bow. They'd regroup and head upstairs together.

The brunette took the two cans and stuck them into her bag, then returning it to her shoulder. It wasn't a meal, but it would save incase something sweet was needed. She'd hated processed food as a child, but now it was saving them all.
"Keep an eye on him. There's a chance he doesn't know how many of us there are." Providing Annie and Nick stayed away from the windows.

Across the street, Andrew stayed close to his wife. They listened for the ever constant clicks or shuffles in any of the rooms. Nothing but dust, thankfully. It wouldn't stay that way forever.
"Kitchen and bathroom are the best bets for food and medicine. I suggest we clear the house then check each of them. Anything is useful to us now." The elder man commented, following Marc's footsteps exactly. Anything they could find would bring some morale to the group. If it wasn't the Infected, or the Infection itself, it was depression. There had already been two members of the group who'd taken their own lives out of the grim reality of it all. He didn't blame them. It was always an ever constant threat. Something that would always play on their minds.

Mary held her own gun close, fretting and watching every corner. If there was so much as an inch of movement, she'd shoot. It was how terrified Mary spent her life now. She was a mother figure and the one who hid her fear to protect the other girls, but she would openly tell Andrew of how much she wanted everything to stop. They would get to the sanctuary and everything would be okay. They'd be on the road for months but they'd reach it. She knew they wouldn't all make it. She knew she'd either die alone or take Andrew with her, despite how much she'd want her husband to carry on.

Running. Dead. Infected. (The Walking Dead/The Last of Us Style RP)

Urgh, cover shifts suck ass.
Tomorrow.

Running. Dead. Infected. (The Walking Dead/The Last of Us Style RP)

Nevermind. Was far too tired to reply last night so I shall reply this afternoon, then well be back on track and finally getting somewhere again

{{Official TDN Interest Check}]

Bump

Through the Years (private)

Today was the day. A day every eleven year old wizard looked forward to. He was finally going to Hogwarts and finally going to learn the Magic his parents had shown him throughout the years. George Nott was the second son of a busy Pureblood family. Not as dark driven as the Black family but directly related. The blonde boy had spent a busy Wednesday in Diagon Alley the week before and had managed to purchase all his belongings. He stood in a comfortable pair of jeans, watching both his parents beam down at him with proud faces. To their right stood Theodore, a brown haired boy in his sixth year. His eyes were tired from reading and now bore glasses however he wrecked with an air of intelligence. Theo always had. George was jealous, or he would be as soon as the homework started.

"Keep up with your studies. You'll be an Auror yet." He father smiled, ruffling the curly white blonde hair on George's head. There had always been that pressure in the Nott household. Nicholas Nott was the deputy Head of Magical Law Enforcement and a rough hand at catching do-wrongers. George was grateful. He glanced about the platform as his parent's turned to say goodbye to their eldest son. The youngest could already see how busy the platform was, parents, children, brothers, sisters. Everyone rushed about. George managed to spot a group of boy's each dressed in green and silver robes, the attire he would later learn to be Slytherin's Duelling Team uniform.

"Go. George, come on." His mother cooed, suddenly ushering him towards the train. They didn't have long but if he wanted to find a seat, he'd have to step up soon. The boy glanced down at the train step and paused. That was it. Right there. His whole life was about to change. Two elder students pushed forwards behind him and soon enough the blonde found himself on the train, his trunk being lifted by a prefect. He was shocked and amazed at what he saw inside. A rich mahagony interior. The train was beautiful. George grabbed his trunk and dragged it along the corridor, stopping at an empty carriage. An elder student lifted it onto the over head racking before disappearing.

George sighed and dropped back onto the seats, pushing his nose against the window to look outside. He couldn't see his parents but he could see the waving and proud faces of hundreds of parents, as well as the bewildered faces of muggle parents.

Through the Years (private)

Cs coming soon

{{Official TDN Interest Check}]

BUMP

Running. Dead. Infected. (The Walking Dead/The Last of Us Style RP)

Posting when I'm back from work tonight.

Running. Dead. Infected. (The Walking Dead/The Last of Us Style RP)

It's a walking dead/last of us crossover.

Just try to be realistic, that's all.