setting
Index was once a small and close-knit community, but the town located on the western side of Washington state has grown in recent years beyond anyone's expectations. It is the ideal place for those who work in Seattle but can't afford the city's high real estate prices, and for others the natural beauty attracts them to the town. And Index truly is a beautiful place - surrounded by thick evergreen trees, tall mountains and glistening rivers and lakes. While weather is typically rainy with overcast skies even this does nothing to take away from the beauty of the town, and it is only highlighted further when the heavy snow graces the town and caps the mountains in winter. To many, Index would seem like a paradise. And yet lurking beneath this visual beauty there is more to this town than anyone might ever imagine...

Current Time in Index, Washington:
rules
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 [Private] Dawn of the Dead - Page 6

[Private] Dawn of the Dead

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Re: [Private] Dawn of the Dead

Vincent Sawyer Byrne | Wolf; Pack Master/Alpha

Posted on Tue Sep 01, 2015 4:09 am

I wanted it to be a dream. Fuck wasn't that the obvious statement of the day? Of course I wanted it to be a dream, and she probably did too. No, we weren't cut up like thanksgiving fucking turkey while we were in that room. No, we weren't force fed gallons of fanger blood for days. No, we weren't manipulated and mentally and physically beat down. But it didn't matter. Being in that room, for the both of us, was just like stepping back into that memory. Being there was just as destructive, maybe not physically, but mentally, it was. And what we had been told... And what they'd done to her. I was sick of it. I was so fucking sick of being this pawn on the chess board that always came so close to being knocked over. I was so fucking sick of wondering if today I'd escape with my life, or if today I'd get to be shot and tied up like a fucking hog while my enemy laughed in my face. I was so fucking tired of it.

I returned her thanks with a grunt. I meant to say something, but I just didn't want to. Until I did, and I sat down. I didn't know what I was doing. Avoiding the obvious? Pretending it didn't happen at all? It was stupid, inside it was all I could think about. It didn't matter what we talked about, nothing would change the fact that in our minds, we were still in that fucking white room. Yeah... Too bad I couldn't be the one poking you... I cringed the second I said it. I wasn't like we went on a date and she pricked her fucking finger... She was injected with shit. Maybe it was grim to joke about it. Fuck it.

Her fidgeting didn't go unnoticed, but I just didn't have it in me to even pretend to be annoyed at it. That was the thing, when my mind was completely absorbed in something, even if it was something as fucking miserable as this, the world around me faded. I was surprised I was even having a fucking conversation right now, even if it wasn't much of one. Hm? I missed the beginning of what she said, but caught enough. Oh yeah uh... I got up from my seat and walked over to the door directly behind us. It was Penny's old room. And on the abnormally small table in the center of the room was paper and all kinds of fucking writing utensils sitting in a pink butterfly cup. I picked up both and carried them back out to pass them to her. I didn't even ask any questions. A part of me wanted to, but again. my mind was fucking elsewhere...

I wish I knew what to fucking say. I just need to... My eyes were lazily staring at nothing, but as I spoke they moved around the room and landed on the one thing that might fix this fucking situation. The one thing that had helped me learn how to make my mind go blank all those months ago when she started teaching me. I leaned forward and gripped my guitar by the neck and positioned it in front of me before beginning to fiddle with the tuning knobs. So... Maybe I'm pressing my luck here but there is one thing we could do to take our mind off of uh... Well you know. What? She did kiss me fucking back earlier, so it wasn't that much of a fucking long shot.

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Re: [Private] Dawn of the Dead

Peyton Marx | Wolf; Warlord/Battlelord

Posted on Tue Sep 01, 2015 5:26 am

The whole thing, the atmosphere that was lying over us like a heavy cloak, it made me thing of those scenes in movies after a bomb goes off. Not the explosion but the moments that follow, before the dust settles and there's this ringing sound while everything else is muffled and the people who can are getting up and stumbling around. Trying to wrap their heads around what had happened. I wasn't either, I knew that even though it'd been bad it could've been so much worse. I rubbed a hand down the side of my face, glancing at Vincent, feeling a flicker of guilt at the fact I was even so fucking wrapped up in it. No matter what had happened, he'd been through worse. I might've felt it when he'd opened up his mind before but... he'd actually lived it. Had to live with the consequences of it. But seeing that room, anticipating those possibilities, it'd been terrifying. Right up until the moment we were knocked out I'd just been just waiting for things to take a nosedive, for them to start doing all of that horrible shit. I'd been lucky in comparison.

But I didn't feel lucky, not really. I felt... marked, tainted by the tracker they'd injected. Knowing there was something so unwanted within me and I could do fuck all about it. Like cattle branded for slaughter, their progress being tracked and monitored. As absolutely fucking awful as the joke he made next was I couldn't help but be grateful for it, for the distraction it supplied. My mouth dropped open slightly and I stared at him for a moment. You didn't just- I stopped, looking away. that was so fucking bad, my God.

I didn't even feel stupid for the request I'd made. Everyone had something that was a source of... just comfort or whatever, even if that sounded gay. Something that helped them chill out and that was what I needed right then. I was still shaking but it was more so from the fact that every muscle in my body was tensed up. I just waited for him to respond, barely noticing the pause before he did. I was kinda surprised when he said yes and got up, shifting to watch him go through the door. My eyes widened in surprise when he actually returned with everything I'd need. Shit, you actually do have 'em. I reached out, taking them from him and then pausing to look at the container with the pens and shit in it. Another time I probably would've made some smartass comment but I... I just didn't. There was zero urge to do so.

It was immediately obviously to me that I'd need to move. The sheets of paper were loose and drawing hunched over the table would suck. I slid off the couch, moving round and settling down on the floor at the opposite side of the table. I set the stuff down and shrugged off my hoody, using it as a makeshift cushion. Yeah I'm kinda... fuck, tongue-tied doesn't even begin to cover it. I reached forward pulling a page toward me and starteed off with some warm up stuff, loosening up my wrist. It helped. Not much but enough to let me know I was on the right track. I noticed him move but didn't take my eyes off the page, until he spoke that is. I raised my head, eyes widening. Yeah uh.. as, um, effective as I'm sure that'd be I don't think... Would that even work right now? It's not like the idea was wholly unappealing but- ...yeah maybe right now is pressing your luck alright. My gaze moved down from his face to the guitar, watching him tune it for a bit before going back to what I'd been doing, biting my lip in concentration and clicking the ball of my tongue piercing against the back of my teeth.

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Re: [Private] Dawn of the Dead

Vincent Sawyer Byrne | Wolf; Pack Master/Alpha

Posted on Tue Sep 01, 2015 5:58 am



When the world gives you lemons, make lemonade. When the world decapitates you, shits down your neck, and shoves your severed dick into your severed heads mouth, play music. It was the only safe medication. It was an addiction that was encouraged. Music was the only thing that could transport you to anywhere in time. A melody from a children's show can make you feel like a kid again, and remember the most random shit from your childhood. Like whenever I heard Lithium, and it just reminded me of that time I found my dad's stash of skin mags and the world of women was opened up to me. Music could be tainted too, I could admit that. Songs ruined by shit circumstances, so much that when you hear them you get that same tight feeling in your gut you did when the woman you love shit all over your existence, or you heard the news of your dad's passing. But all of this just proved how powerful it could be.

This thought process had me going so strong I only just began realizing what she'd meant by what she said before I left the room. No it wasn't. I replied, knowing my response was so fucking delayed. I tried to force a smile but it just looked half erect, like a fucking stroke victim... Yeah I... I didn't but... Doesn't matter. What she wanted it for, I hadn't put those pieces together, but only a moment later I remembered she was an artist. Was it fucked that I immediately felt this magnet pulling me towards her? So, maybe it was common for people to delve into hobbies in times of stress, but maybe it wasn't as common as hitting the gym or the bar. We both had the same idea, maybe not exact, but art was her escape wasn't it? Like music was mine? Fuck, did this mean we were on the fast track to finishing each others sentences? Fucking God...

Can you blame me for trying? I asked, but she was already balls deep in her drawing thing. And it was that focus that lead to her habit of clicking that goddamned thing against her teeth. Maybe in any other situation it would have sent me off, but all it did was set the tempo...

I wanted to crawl inside her head and see what was going on right now. Neither of us were saying much, and granted, once I was done fiddling with the tuning knobs and my fingers hit the strings, I kind of cut off the opportunity to communicate. But it wasn't like she was in any position to be a fucking chatty Kathy either. Her eyes had become so glued to that paper I could have whipped my dick out right that very moment and she probably wouldn't have even flinched.

It felt like only a couple seconds had passed, but it'd been more than that. That was apparent from the amount of progress she'd made, and yeah, I was watching her. I couldn't fucking take my eyes off of her, but that wasn't fucking news. The point was, I hadn't thought of it, none of it. Not once. I'd only thouht of the music and her. I hadn't realized it because obviously my mind had become occupied with more pleasant thoughts, but fuck, I didn't know if the music held the power anymore, or if it was just her. Every fucking line intrigued me, but I knew if any other person had drawn them, I wouldn't have given a flying fuck to take a second look. What the fuck was she turning me into?

And just like that, I stopped to reach for my glass. What is it? I asked, unable to see from here... And the fact it was fucking upside down... It could have been a midget in a bunny costume for all I fucking knew. But what I did know, was I fucking liked it already, even if it did turn out to be the most hideous piece of art anyone had ever done in history.

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Re: [Private] Dawn of the Dead

Peyton Marx | Wolf; Warlord/Battlelord

Posted on Tue Sep 01, 2015 7:12 am

OOC Message
Sketch of Vin


The pause between when I'd spoken and his reply was long enough that when he did for a second I had no idea what he was even referring to. My brow creased as my mind backtracked and once I'd remember it rose and I threw him a skeptical look. No, it really was. God awful. I didn't even see how he could try and deny it but I still wasn't exactly in the frame of mind to start doing shit like emphasizing how bad it'd been. That and the fact that I was more occupied with checking out what utensils were in the cup he'd given me. A few pencils, a pen and a couple of markers, it was more than enough to get the job done. I'd picked out one of the pencil and was turning it over in my hands, trying to see if there was a mark to indicate the weight of the lead when he spoke again. You didn't what? I asked absentmindedly, having no clue what he was talking about. I didn't wait to hear the answer either, especially when he added the 'doesn't matter'. 

I placed the pencil against the page, only pausing a second before I started to move it over the page. The faint scratching sound that accompanied it was, to me, one of the most calming parts of doing this. Fuck, it was a sound that I pretty but associated with peace of mind and had done for years. It was the same with the stroke of paint dampened bristles across a rough canvas, or the rougher sound of charcoal on a piece of ply. Vaguely a part of my mind registered that he'd spoken again but I didn't hear the words and after another moment I forgot to even say anything in response.

What did draw my out of my concentration was the sound of him starting to play. My hand stilled mid-stroke and I looked up, listening to him pluck the strings, watching the way his fingers moved and for a few seconds become so much more absorbed in that than I had been in the random lines and patches of shading that made up the warm up I'd been working on. It wasn't just what he played how he played it, which was fucking amazing. It was how he looked as he did so. It was hard to look away.

Suddenly the idea of continuing with what I'd been working on held no interest to me. I wanted to draw this, draw him and try capture that on paper. It was so much more challenging than what I'd been doing and honestly, the fact that it gave me an excuse to keep looking at him had more than a little to do with the fact that I was pushing away the first sheet and sliding a new one towards me. Drawing a quick frame guide to mar his position only took a second or two, the adding a rough guide for areas of mass was a little longer. But with that done I was free to start following the lines of his body. Different things caught my attention, the fall of his hair, the line of his nose, the way the fabric of his top stretched across his shoulders. The longer I drew the more damn difficult it became to actually tear my eyes away and actually translate those things to the page. But I did, because what was appearing on it was exactly what I'd been hoping for.

When he stopped playing, just as I was going back over some details, adding my signature. I immediately looked up, speaking without thinking. You stopped? I couldn't even hide the edge of disappointment in my voice as I voiced the fact. But his question was more than enough to distract me from that. My eyes widened and I again I didn't think, just instinctively pulled the page off the table with one hand and pushed the other one towards him. Uh, nothing much. Fucking hell could I be more obvious? Just abstract shit, doodles really. I slid the other drawing, the one of him onto my lap, my head tilting up in a way that was almost defiant, like I thought that would stop him saying anything.

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Re: [Private] Dawn of the Dead

Vincent Sawyer Byrne | Wolf; Pack Master/Alpha

Posted on Wed Sep 02, 2015 7:02 pm

If you want me to keep playing, I'll keep playing until my fingers bleed. I thought to myself, while simultaneously wanting to jump off a cliff for wanting to give her anything she fucking wanted. Even if no one, including her didn't know it, I still felt fucking embarrassed about it. Which made no fucking sense. What was there to be embarrassed of in your own damn company? So did you. I snapped back, almost furiously as if she knew what I was thinking before.

My mood immediately changed when I quite fucking clearly saw her hide one paper while shoving another forward. I may not have been able to see very well what she'd been drawing, but I wasn't stupid, she'd done two. I glanced to the one she'd pushed forward, Fucking cool, but what about the other one? Yeah, I didn't know what the fuck the one I could see was a drawing of but it was fucking cool looking. Either way, she'd given me no interest in looking at it for more than a few seconds by hiding the other. I wanted to see what the big damn secret was.

The one you're hiding. Was it porn? I couldn't think of any other reason to hide it. I moved the guitar off of my lap and placed it on the chair next to me and stood up. At first I just tried leaning forward to see, but I still couldn't see shit so I moved around and began reaching for it.

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