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DaMadReaper

Call of the Void - Chapter 1: Adolescence [Closed]

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8 hours ago, Spikey844 said:

"What the..?" She muttered, before moving forward to investigate the pipes, poking and prodding them carefully.

"Alright, I know enough about water installation to tell that's not how you earn your paycheck..."

Dino studied the makeshift piping, checking if it really did work and hold. Surprisingly, it seems it does. Little droplets are dripping from what she could only assume was a showerhead, and there's no signs saying it's out of order, which a mall should obviously have plenty to spare. Clearly she wasn't expecting this. A shower seems very possible and welcome right now, though that would require new clothes as well. If it's not covered in sewage sludge, it's it's sweaty and old from weeks of survival. She'll need a change, and so will the kid if she wants to shower too. It'd be a good idea to get her away from those pipes too, she seems a little too entranced with them. Maybe a smile of her own will snap her out of it.

"C'mon girl, let's find some new clothes first, then we can test these showers."

Should the little girl comply, they'll both go back into the big area of the mall and look for something or someone who looks like they could provide clothing. If there's nothing in sight, she'll ask the first person she sees or passes by.

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On 2019-11-22 at 4:44 PM, DaMadReaper said:

but in place of the barebones metal sinks that normally lined public bathrooms, there were... metal separators, creating small cubicles, where jury-rigged showers were created by growing (???) metal pipes to extend off of the sink, extending the path that the water would travel to allow most people to wash themselves while only needing to stoop down a bit. However, it made washing your hands... slightly problematic. Perhaps they were expected to use the showerhead?

The sight of the metal pipes didn't make Martijn recoil as much as he had expected, part of him had grown accustomed to the sight of strange metal-flesh that just grew on its own (what a surprise when one of such growths is coming out of his hand at all times). Unlike Karl though, the Dutchman decided that showering and then getting back into dirty clothes was probably not the best idea. Instead he'd do a quick wash up of his feline friend to at least get some of the sewer's stench away.

With the metal creature now nestled against his neck - after drying the cat off of course - Martijn set on his way through the mall to find some clothes.. Maybe a bag too. Having something to keep the cat in while they walked around. He felt uncomfortable about the idea of having the creature just roam on its own.

Clothes first, bag maybe, shower after. That would be the plan for now. Once that was all done he could hopefully finally get some sleep. No wait, food first, then sleep.

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Everyone goes to mind their own business, following them I see the showers, shivering lightly and just deciding to wash my hands for now. "One, find new clothes, two, shower, three, eat..." I mutter to myself, forcing my brain to stay active keep tension up for now just in case. 

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On 2019-11-25 at 9:56 PM, Denny2669 said:

"Alright, I know enough about water installation to tell that's not how you earn your paycheck..."

Dino studied the makeshift piping, checking if it really did work and hold. Surprisingly, it seems it does. Little droplets are dripping from what she could only assume was a showerhead, and there's no signs saying it's out of order, which a mall should obviously have plenty to spare. Clearly she wasn't expecting this. A shower seems very possible and welcome right now, though that would require new clothes as well. If it's not covered in sewage sludge, it's it's sweaty and old from weeks of survival. She'll need a change, and so will the kid if she wants to shower too. It'd be a good idea to get her away from those pipes too, she seems a little too entranced with them. Maybe a smile of her own will snap her out of it.

"C'mon girl, let's find some new clothes first, then we can test these showers."

Should the little girl comply, they'll both go back into the big area of the mall and look for something or someone who looks like they could provide clothing. If there's nothing in sight, she'll ask the first person she sees or passes by.

Gabby nodded at that, but not before giving the pipes another poke. "Clean clothes would be good," she mumbled, still curious about the pipes. 

Then, as she looked back at Dino, a thought came to her. It was so out of the blue that she could not stop herself before asking, "Are your arms going to rust if you get them wet?"

Thoroughly embarrassed by her outburst, she clamped her own hands over her mouth, turned bright red, and scuttled out of the washrooms.

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3 minutes ago, Spikey844 said:

Then, as she looked back at Dino, a thought came to her. It was so out of the blue that she could not stop herself before asking, "Are your arms going to rust if you get them wet?"

"Geez, I sure hope not." Dino answered, chuckling at the thought. Silly question as it may be, the times are weird enough as is and she wouldn't be surprised were it to actually happen. But for now, she'd rather just wash off the dirt so the metallic-like surface can shine again.

Of course, she caught a glance at the little one's blushing face and embarrassment antics. It took a lot of willpower not to ruffle her messy hair like she's the cutest little bugger in the world.

She'ssocuteshe'ssocutegetagripshe'sadorable,you'rebetterthanthisresistthecute resistthecute...

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A lot of people might have very intricate plans once entering a base in the middle of the undead apocalypse. Check the fortifications, see how trustworthy people are, find some backup equipment, maybe a gun or some sort of reinforced clothes. Explore. Me? I'm a simple person, at least for now. I might have dozed off but my mind's still halfway off, I'm exhausted, my everything hurts and I feel like someone's tapdancing inside of my head. Overall, not my finest day, and that includes hangovers and post-work zombie state (who needs sci-fi? Give anyone two twelve hours shifts back-to-back and they'll make a very good imitation of the living dead).

I just head to the women's showers, check three times because my eyes might be messing with me, take a long shower (medium boiling, as anyone civilized likes them) and find the nearest unoccupied bed. And then I just crash. It's like someone's found the off button. Sleep now, be civilized later.

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As night settles onto the sky and the reality of freedom sets in, many choose to let their guards down, allowing water to wash away the last vestiges of the day's struggle from their flesh. Though they're forced back into clothes that carried with them the same stench of sweat and suffering, there was little on their minds beyond the softness of a makeshift bed, and the allure of rest, regardless of surroundings. The world they woke up to tomorrow would be the problem of their future selves. 

---

Partaking in more productive activities, however, were the others, the first of whom was currently facing down a man that was made of roughly two to three times her body mass, half of which going into his absolutely built upper body. Still, he didn't seem particularly menacing beyond the whole aggressive standing, his brows furrowing as Tara rattled off languages with no sign of stopping. Once the girl had slowed enough to afford him a few words, he cut a verbal path, speaking slowly and just soft enough to attract attention.

"Mi madre me dijo que no confiara en nadie que hablara más de dos idiomas. ¿Tengo alguna razón para no confiar en ti?" 

As he finished, his stance shifted almost imperceptibly, changing to something of a loom, made easier by his height. The words had come out controlled, tight, with a great deal of proficiency in maintaining the exact tone he had been going for. A trained speaker, perhaps?

---

As the other two events were happening, a number of the newcomers would realise that they indeed had no clean clothes, and unlike the rest of their comrades, they were bothered by the fact. And so, the numbers filled out slowly, conversations joining together as they aimlessly wandered, a mass that attracted a few odd looks, and even more wrinkled noses. It seemed that they were... conspicuous, in a way. As they made their way downstairs, however, they would hear the barking voice of a woman call them over.

"EY! You the ones tracking... whatever the hell that is in here? It smells like a sewage tank emptied into the lobby."

As the others looked over, they would see a woman in her early thirties, with a thick ponytail and a pair of sunglasses that complemented a rather drab outfit, lifting it and giving it some taste and style. As she, for lack of a better word, strutted over, her expression seemed to be one of exaggerated distaste. She gave them a once over, before taking Dino's wrist between two fingers, dragging her along with zero regard for the fact that they may be unwilling, or dangerous.

"You look like fashion disasters... Forcing a lovely young girl to dress like that?"

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3 minutes ago, DaMadReaper said:

Partaking in more productive activities, however, were the others, the first of whom was currently facing down a man that was made of roughly two to three times her body mass, half of which going into his absolutely built upper body. Still, he didn't seem particularly menacing beyond the whole aggressive standing, his brows furrowing as Tara rattled off languages with no sign of stopping. Once the girl had slowed enough to afford him a few words, he cut a verbal path, speaking slowly and just soft enough to attract attention.

"Mi madre me dijo que no confiara en nadie que hablara más de dos idiomas. ¿Tengo alguna razón para no confiar en ti?" 

As he finished, his stance shifted almost imperceptibly, changing to something of a loom, made easier by his height. The words had come out controlled, tight, with a great deal of proficiency in maintaining the exact tone he had been going for. A trained speaker, perhaps?

 

"Dificil de decir." replied Tara in a distinctly Latin American Spanish accent that would be clear to the man that she did not learn the language from the source of the language in Spain. "Mi trabajo me obliga a viajar mucho y aprendo idiomas como un perra gringo promedio contrae enfermedades de transmisión sexual."

Saying that with a raised eyebrow, she had not expected the man to take what she said particularly well. Still, what she said was definitely true. She did pick up more than a few languages from her travels, as much as she embellished the implications of how she learned the languages that she can speak and write in.

"Más aún, no creo que tengas una razón para desconfiar de mí, ya que estoy en desventaja de haberte dado mi nombre mientras todavía no conozco el tuyo". she said, leaning on a solid-looking door frame and shrugging.

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Some time passed by. All I could tell was that I got some good bit of shuteye, I felt mostly human again and-

Oh dear lord I reek. Of course. The sewers. The current state of things is...Unacceptable! Filthy! Unhygienic!

Hoping I didn't contamine the sheets to a point where they might have to be purged, I hastily got up and undid the bed, taking everything with me. Right. Simple plan. Step one, get new clothes; Step two, get new sheets; Step three, clean everything. With fire if I must. Also, apologize. Step four is to take another shower and purge myself from the smell.

Stepping out of the dorm, I start looking for anyone local that might inform me on where to go.

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On 2019-11-29 at 5:19 PM, DaMadReaper said:

As the other two events were happening, a number of the newcomers would realise that they indeed had no clean clothes, and unlike the rest of their comrades, they were bothered by the fact. And so, the numbers filled out slowly, conversations joining together as they aimlessly wandered, a mass that attracted a few odd looks, and even more wrinkled noses. It seemed that they were... conspicuous, in a way. As they made their way downstairs, however, they would hear the barking voice of a woman call them over.

"EY! You the ones tracking... whatever the hell that is in here? It smells like a sewage tank emptied into the lobby."

As the others looked over, they would see a woman in her early thirties, with a thick ponytail and a pair of sunglasses that complemented a rather drab outfit, lifting it and giving it some taste and style. As she, for lack of a better word, strutted over, her expression seemed to be one of exaggerated distaste. She gave them a once over, before taking Dino's wrist between two fingers, dragging her along with zero regard for the fact that they may be unwilling, or dangerous.

"You look like fashion disasters... Forcing a lovely young girl to dress like that?"

Gabby was somewhat blindsided by the woman who advanced on them out of nowhere, ducking behind Dino. When Dino began to be pulled away she just stood there for a moment, rather non-plussed, before chasing after. Well of course they smelt like a sewer, they'd just walked through one!

"Blame uh... uh," Gabby scrambled for the woman's name, then just went with the nickname she'd already given their mute guide, "blame Batwoman for dragging us through a sewer to get here! And I dress myself thank you very much!" 

Honestly, what did people think she was, a child? She was eleve- wait, no, that doesn't work. She is still a child. 

Try again.

What did people think she was, a toddler? She was eleven for crying out loud.

Success.

Edited by Spikey844
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Le 29/11/2019 à 18:19, DaMadReaper a dit :

Snip 

 

Il y a 17 heures, Spikey844 a dit :

Success

I had scoured the place to find new clothes for most of us with little success so that woman's reaction felt almost like a direct attack, and even though the girl's reaction was adorable I couldn't just not say a thing. 

"Thanks for the compliment, I looked around as the others were showering but I didn't found anything and since everyone was busy I couldn't find anything to replace those clothes." I simply answered kindly looking at her. "Some new clothes for us all would be a god send." 

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"We've only been here for a day after surviving for weeks and the first thing that gets mocked is our clothes? I'll take it." The dutchman hums as he listens to the replies of the other people. It was a fun thing to consider it as a compliment like Cyriann. "He's right though, getting a new set of clothes would be great! Much better than staying like... this." He hums as he trails after Dino, the woman and Gabby. Hopefully Dino didn't mind being dragged along though.

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On 2019-11-29 at 6:19 PM, DaMadReaper said:

"EY! You the ones tracking... whatever the hell that is in here? It smells like a sewage tank emptied into the lobby."

As the others looked over, they would see a woman in her early thirties, with a thick ponytail and a pair of sunglasses that complemented a rather drab outfit, lifting it and giving it some taste and style. As she, for lack of a better word, strutted over, her expression seemed to be one of exaggerated distaste. She gave them a once over, before taking Dino's wrist between two fingers, dragging her along with zero regard for the fact that they may be unwilling, or dangerous.

"You look like fashion disasters... Forcing a lovely young girl to dress like that?"

"Hey! I may smell, but this hoodie was killer when I found it!"

That is how the Greek woman responded to the accusations. Smell? Yes, they did smell, nice of someone to notice. Yes, it is spreading, it's one of the reasons they're even looking clothes. But this red hoodie was hand picked from a high end clothes shop! You could still see the designer mark... behind all the smudge, maybe... or did she tear it away along with the sleeves? Either way, the only flaw here is the unsanitary state it's in.

Still... new clothes would be appreciated. But that doesn't mean she'll let herself get dragged away. So, instead of shaking herself free of the woman's grip, she merely disconnected the arm she was holding. That ought to give her a scare once she turns around. She also moved to walk behind her other side to add to the upcoming shock. With her other hand, she put her index finger before her mouth in a "shhh" gesture to Gabby.

Man, this power is fun...

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The man with the tanned skin buries his face in his palm as Tara rattles on in foreign vulgarities, describing her capabilities in horrifically colorful terms. Despite the man's rather rough looking exterior, he seemed to be distinctly uncomfortable with the sheer amount of... rough language in use. Still, he couldn't suppress something of a quiet chuckle under his breath. He takes a deep breath, and then removes his hand from his face.

"Arlo. Llamo Arlo. Puede que hayas conocido a mi hija, Esme. Es responsable de racionar la ropa."

He turns his back to Tara, a show of trust, before motioning for her to follow him inside. While it wasn't strictly allowed, it was more or less up to their own discretion on who they were trusting... He couldn't resist poking one last bit of fun before he headed in.

"Recuérdame que te traiga un crucifijo de ella."

---

Elsewhere, a half dozen of the group members were gathered together, being dragged along by a highly fashion-conscious woman. However, it seemed that she was far from an ordinary fashion snob. As Dino's arm came off, she merely stopped for an instant to confirm that they were still following, before carrying on with the arm, holding it with much more strength than the infected's primitive magnetic field could possibly bring to bear. Was she... also not human like them? Nevertheless, she continued on, babbling about a number of possible outfits she could dress them all up with.

It seemed that they were going to be stuck here for some time... Truly, fashion was a more terrifying beast than any infected monster.

---

Time passed in abstract ways, when one was tired. Seconds dragged into minutes, minutes into hours, while the opposite also held true, with massive chunks of time disappearing before one could even realise. Between longform essays on the state of modern fashion design, stock-taking of weaponry, and quite simply sleeping, the group would find themselves occupied until dinnertime came, bringing with it the sound of Jamie checking up on everyone, knocking on all doors and calling out for the others to join them in the dining hall, and that important announcements would be made.

If any were to make their way outside, they would find perhaps twenty or thirty people making their way through the halls over time, clumping together in groups of two, three or four, all hovering around in a state of vague discomfort, before settling into groups at the tables. Perhaps they would recognise Sy, Jamie and Yeva, sitting and conversing, as much as a mute person could. Elsewhere, the woman distributing clothes, Esme, was exchanging a few, awkward words with Arlo. A table sat empty, beckoning to the group with an opportunity to meet and discuss their experiences.

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The sweet feeling of sleep was something Karl went into easily.

Unfortunately, it wouldn't be a good night.

He woke up in the panic room he had in his building, dressed in the tattered suit that was clawed in, the corridors were dark and empty with little to go for but eventually, he went into the boardroom. He stared at the men and women in suits, their faces and hands shadowy with glowing hands, they all charged for him, cursing at him in Lasiran. He did his best to run from the shadowy wave of souls cursing his name, their lives ruined and their futures shattered. He witnessed thousands of children swarming for him as well. He turned to a lone corridor and there felt a gunshot rip though his chest...

That's when he woke up, screaming and clasping his chest. The gunshot felt so real in his mind and so did the shot that rip into his flesh. He looked around in a state of paranoia, panting hard and clasping his head and rocking back and forth in a fetal position. For a single moment, he started to cry in wailing sadness. What the hell had he done?

Eventually, the time for tears passed after a good ten minutes before he got onto his feet and proceeded to the dining room, his eyes still red and his cheeks stained with tears. He still smelt like [Insert word that rhymes with grit] he'll have to ask for clean clothes afterwards.

Edited by Drakeardian

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On 2019-12-06 at 6:18 PM, DaMadReaper said:

Elsewhere, a half dozen of the group members were gathered together, being dragged along by a highly fashion-conscious woman. However, it seemed that she was far from an ordinary fashion snob. As Dino's arm came off, she merely stopped for an instant to confirm that they were still following, before carrying on with the arm, holding it with much more strength than the infected's primitive magnetic field could possibly bring to bear. Was she... also not human like them? Nevertheless, she continued on, babbling about a number of possible outfits she could dress them all up with.

It seemed that they were going to be stuck here for some time... Truly, fashion was a more terrifying beast than any infected monster.

Alright, we're just going with arms popping off now. This is fine. Then again these people probably saw more infected coming through here. The amount of outfits she listed was astonishing, and Martijn frankly had trouble keeping up with everything she suggested. He had a hard time considering which of those outfits he did like. Mostly because with the word barrage she was spitting out he had no chance to visualize any of the looks she suggested.

"Are you a fashion designer?" He asks, hoping that the question might slow her down a little, and maybe to start a conversation that goes two ways instead of one.

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On 2019-12-07 at 1:18 AM, DaMadReaper said:

The man with the tanned skin buries his face in his palm as Tara rattles on in foreign vulgarities, describing her capabilities in horrifically colorful terms. Despite the man's rather rough looking exterior, he seemed to be distinctly uncomfortable with the sheer amount of... rough language in use. Still, he couldn't suppress something of a quiet chuckle under his breath. He takes a deep breath, and then removes his hand from his face.

"Arlo. Llamo Arlo. Puede que hayas conocido a mi hija, Esme. Es responsable de racionar la ropa."

He turns his back to Tara, a show of trust, before motioning for her to follow him inside. While it wasn't strictly allowed, it was more or less up to their own discretion on who they were trusting... He couldn't resist poking one last bit of fun before he headed in.

"Recuérdame que te traiga un crucifijo de ella."

"Todavía no he conocido a Esme, pero es un placer conocerte, Arlo". said Tara as she followed him into the armoury before responding to his dig at her with an eyeroll and a smirk. "Pero los crucifijos queman paganos como yo."

Walking into the makeshift armory of Homefront derived from the electronics section of the former department store in GUM, she paid extra care and attention to not touch the ramshackle reinforcements made from sheet metal and wood frames. It was an inspired choice to have the armory in this section of the department store really, the electronics section has plenty of display cases for lighter weapons to be mounted to and placed under.

"Seré sincero, esto no parece mucho. ¿Ha sido alta la tasa de víctimas de los operadores, mientras que la tasa de éxito de las misiones de recolección ha sido baja?" she asked, giving the weapons display a lookover.

-meanwhile-

Tara joined the other newcomers at the tables, keeping her mask on as she regards all the others with an open-minded but guarded suspicion.

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On 2019-12-06 at 5:18 PM, DaMadReaper said:

Elsewhere, a half dozen of the group members were gathered together, being dragged along by a highly fashion-conscious woman. However, it seemed that she was far from an ordinary fashion snob. As Dino's arm came off, she merely stopped for an instant to confirm that they were still following, before carrying on with the arm, holding it with much more strength than the infected's primitive magnetic field could possibly bring to bear. Was she... also not human like them? Nevertheless, she continued on, babbling about a number of possible outfits she could dress them all up with.

It seemed that they were going to be stuck here for some time... Truly, fashion was a more terrifying beast than any infected monster.

---

Time passed in abstract ways, when one was tired. Seconds dragged into minutes, minutes into hours, while the opposite also held true, with massive chunks of time disappearing before one could even realise. Between longform essays on the state of modern fashion design, stock-taking of weaponry, and quite simply sleeping, the group would find themselves occupied until dinnertime came, bringing with it the sound of Jamie checking up on everyone, knocking on all doors and calling out for the others to join them in the dining hall, and that important announcements would be made.

If any were to make their way outside, they would find perhaps twenty or thirty people making their way through the halls over time, clumping together in groups of two, three or four, all hovering around in a state of vague discomfort, before settling into groups at the tables. Perhaps they would recognise Sy, Jamie and Yeva, sitting and conversing, as much as a mute person could. Elsewhere, the woman distributing clothes, Esme, was exchanging a few, awkward words with Arlo. A table sat empty, beckoning to the group with an opportunity to meet and discuss their experiences.

One set of clean clothes and a shower later, and Gabby was feeling much better. Even if said clothes had been forced on her by a tyrant. Honestly, a pleated, knee length, green and blue tartan skirt? Black tights? She'd only avoided a 'cute' dress by literally getting her claws out. Thankfully they had a shirt that was about her size, though the only jumpers available were oversized. That was fine by Gabby. She'd always liked overly large ones.

Plus, they hid her hands if she wanted them to. 

There had also been a row over her coat. Esme had tried to take it away, give her something more 'fashionable', but Gabby had levelled first a death glare, and when that had failed, deployed her most dangerous weapon. 

She'd deployed her puppy eyes. Or were they now kitty eyes?

Either way, she kept the coat. And her boots. They were practical.

Now, following group/her nose/the-person-who-greeted-thems call, she was headed to find food.

Foooooooood.

Ehm.

"Oooh, free table," Gabby said, bouncing up and down before grabbing the nearest person, who happened to be Agnes, and practically dragging them by the hand towards said table.

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I see Agnes, I finally had started to hear names and had the time to imprint being dragged to a table, by the kid.

I sigh, following, after all, better form a little group, it's always better to have people around. I have already had the luck to change myself, these aren't the most comfortable, yet at least I have a common look and a sleeve on my right side, which almost feels weird after how long I had it exposed.

So I just sit there, looking around, absentmindedly, not really knowing what to do, what to say, it almost feels like the realization of the peace we are given hasn't settled in correctly yet.

Edited by Cyriann

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Well, that didn't work out. It's unfortunate, she had hoped she could get more funny reactions with this hand trick. It's not every day you get to disconnect your arm at will like a drill head. And both victims of this trick took it unsatisfyingly lightly. How dull... still, at least the woman had spirit, and passions. Admirable traits in Dino's eyes. And she offered them clothes. There was a lot to choose from, but she specified she can't really wear anything with sleeves, as it'd get in the way of her abilities. They ended up with a black tank top, torn jeans, a sleeveless denim jacket and high boots. They looked for a while to find a jacket with a hood, and made sure it had those strings to tie it under your neck too, that's important. She kept her choker though, at least something to keep from her personal wardrobe. As for underwear... keep dreaming, pervs. It was off to the showers afterwards.

Now, with clean clothes, clean body, and incoming meal, last thing needed would be a clean mind... sadly, that might take longer. She can start by filling the hole in her stomach though, the packet of gum in her pocket wouldn't help with that after all. She watched the adorable kid bounce over to the table, all chipper in clean, cute clothes, she almost felt jealous of Agnes being dragged around by her. She sits down at the table next to the two.

"Man, I'm starved..."

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Having managed to find a place where to leave things to be washed (and dumped my sheets there, before washing my hands three times) I kept looking for somewhere to get things but...No dice so far. Meaning I was stuck with...Those clothes for now. And that was people announcing dinner. Maybe I could just pass on that and...

A horrifying noise, some sort of surprisingly loud groan, quickly told me that my stomach did not agree with that idea. When *was* the last time I ate, actually? ...Five, ten, twelve...Fifteen hours? Alright. New plan. Eat, then get new clothes and wash again.

Finding my way into the mess hall, I quickly end up grabbed by someone tiny...That's the kid in our group. Brand new clothes, a part of my brain notes with a bit of envy. Others from our little group are joigning us. And it seems I'm the only one still reeking. Smiling at the tyke, I manage to speak up through my embarassment.

"Hey there. So...Where did you get those clothes? I'm still wearing Eau des Egouts number 5 right now so anything fresh would be a progress here..."

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2 hours ago, 404Cygni said:

Having managed to find a place where to leave things to be washed (and dumped my sheets there, before washing my hands three times) I kept looking for somewhere to get things but...No dice so far. Meaning I was stuck with...Those clothes for now. And that was people announcing dinner. Maybe I could just pass on that and...

A horrifying noise, some sort of surprisingly loud groan, quickly told me that my stomach did not agree with that idea. When *was* the last time I ate, actually? ...Five, ten, twelve...Fifteen hours? Alright. New plan. Eat, then get new clothes and wash again.

Finding my way into the mess hall, I quickly end up grabbed by someone tiny...That's the kid in our group. Brand new clothes, a part of my brain notes with a bit of envy. Others from our little group are joigning us. And it seems I'm the only one still reeking. Smiling at the tyke, I manage to speak up through my embarassment.

"Hey there. So...Where did you get those clothes? I'm still wearing Eau des Egouts number 5 right now so anything fresh would be a progress here..."

“That lady over there,” Gabby said, pointing out Esme with her free hand, then glaring at her, “she’s an evil fashion critic though. I wanted jeans, but she put me in this!” She waved at her skirt and tights with a free hand, completely ignoring anything resembling an inside voice. “And this, this! Was the compromise! She wanted to put me in a dress!” She flumped onto the table and began mumbling about being quite able to choose her own clothes and dress herself, thank you very much.

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il y a une heure, Spikey844 a dit :

“That lady over there,” Gabby said, pointing out Esme with her free hand, then glaring at her, “she’s an evil fashion critic though. I wanted jeans, but she put me in this!” She waved at her skirt and tights with a free hand, completely ignoring anything resembling an inside voice. “And this, this! Was the compromise! She wanted to put me in a dress!” She flumped onto the table and began mumbling about being quite able to choose her own clothes and dress herself, thank you very much.

I tap on the table thoughtfully, giving the lady a look.

"I...See. If there's no one else, I guess I'll to ask her later. "

I can't help but mutter...

"I swear if she so much as gets a dress close to me..."

A little bit of extra thinking has me ponder. She's not too happy, that kid. 

"You know, I was wondering. You're catlike. You've got claws, so I'm guessing you're stuck in close range, right? Punching, kicking, clawing, all that jazz. So...You need freedom of movement to stay safe. Aren't they so very restricting, those clothes?"

I smile and butter wouldn't melt in my mouth. A wink. Come on kid, that's the cue. Take it.

Edited by 404Cygni

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2 hours ago, 404Cygni said:

 

I tap on the table thoughtfully, giving the lady a look.

"I...See. If there's no one else, I guess I'll to ask her later. "

I can't help but mutter...

"I swear if she so much as gets a dress close to me..."

A little bit of extra thinking has me ponder. She's not too happy, that kid. 

"You know, I was wondering. You're catlike. You've got claws, so I'm guessing you're stuck in close range, right? Punching, kicking, clawing, all that jazz. So...You need freedom of movement to stay safe. Aren't they so very restricting, those clothes?"

I smile and butter wouldn't melt in my mouth. A wink. Come on kid, that's the cue. Take it.

Gabby picked her head up off the table and gave Agnes a slightly confused look. "But I can move more easily in this," she said with a slight pout, "I just prefer jeans to skirts. They're warmer and don't flap. My coat is flappy enough." She proceeded to demonstrate by waving her arms around for a moment, the sleeves flailing and flapping. 

She sighed after a moment, her previously perky attitude vanishing suddenly. "Hungry," she mumbled.

Edited by Spikey844

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As the group files into their spots at a table, the room stops its chatter for just a moment, with curious onlookers eyeing them up. It seemed that newcomers to the Homefront weren't all that normal a sight... Eventually, already proceeding conversations picked back up, the rising chatter drowning out the sound of the group themselves. Slowly, the smell of food would waft its way through the makeshift cafeteria. Perhaps not the best, but just enough of a sweet smell to set off the hunger in the rather starved members of the party. However, there would be no sign of anything edible for a few minutes yet. The explanation would soon come in the form of a man, standing up at the end of the mass of tables, giving the crowd a patient look.

He was tall, wide-shouldered even for his height, with toned muscles built for function, rather than vanity. Fitness born of physical labour, rather than any particular exercise. Standing there in a simple get-up of a black t-shirt stretched tight against his skin, and a rather well-worn pair of jeans, many would write him off as just another man of the country, drawn to the city by promises of safety in numbers, of food and of resources. That is, until they saw the beginnings of a pair of horns, metallic gray, making their way out from the top of his head. Further splotches of the technocyte made their way down his face in a continuous stream, painting much of his neck as well, before disappearing under his shirt, only making further appearances at the edges of his sleeves. 

Either through his own force of presence, or through the crowd's desire for him to finish so that the meal could begin, the conversations they had all seemed so invested in moments ago were dying down into an absolute silence, waiting for the horned man to speak.

"Ladies and gentlemen of the Homefront. I'll avoid the usual spiel today, as we have more important matters to discuss than the fifteenth day in a row of Infected roaming and miscellaneous announcements. As of today, we have a number of new people staying with us. I ask that you take the time to introduce yourselves, and to assist them in finding their feet. As for said new people, feel free to approach any of our people with questions, or when you require assistance. Furthermore, with Yeva's return, we are able to begin initiating Operators once more. If any are interested, approach myself or Yeva on the third floor. With all of that said, I would like to remind everyone that there are children on the premises, and if you choose to partake in... horizontal relaxation, kindly keep it down."

It seemed that the last sentence had been rather... pointed, with the man turning to look at a certain man, who himself seemed to be attempting to disappear into his jacket. Allowing himself a hint of a smile, the horned man continued.

"Before I dismiss the meeting and allow the meal to begin, I would like to warn everyone that there had been some... unusual Infected sighted near the Homefront. It may be a good choice to keep the children inside for a few days. With that said, thank you for listening, and may God watch over you all."

He finished with a nod, before taking his seat once more, making a point to ignore the rolling of eyes at his final statement. With all of that over, however, a number of the Homefront's residents began streaming in with a mishmash of plates, both the dishes and silverware having been mixed and matched from whatever could be acquired. A well-practiced routine, each of the servers seemed to already know their table assignments, making their way through with little hesitation, and even less of a break in pattern, only momentarily pausing at the sight of Gabby's clearly Infected hands. Nevertheless, the routine is picked up again in a matter of seconds, and dinner is served, allowing the workers to disappear back into the kitchen.

 

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