Post by CYDARA LEE CARRION on Dec 21, 2011 1:51:30 GMT -5
THE TRUTH COMES OUT IN THE BREAKDOWNS
( • M E M O R I E S M Y G O D T H E S E M E M O R I E S • )
It had been two weeks since she had made it into Mater, since she had sat in the same room as that grouchy man that she'd spent the night with in Farmington. And no, it wasn't 'spending the night' in the way that naked bodies were pressed together and then the awkward next day wake up occurred. No, it was more like they had been trapped in an apartment complex together waiting out a break in the flood of undead that she had unwittingly brought down upon them. Well, it was actually Diesel's fault more than anything but he was just a dog and she couldn't necessarily blame it all on him. She had played her part well enough that he hadn't caught on about the whole 'hey, I'm deaf' thing until they had been stuck in quarantine together.
Why it bothered her that he knew she would never be able to explain to anyone but it had been the same before the world ended. People would start speaking louder or slower like she was slow in the head and that infuriated her like nothing else could. Cydara wanted to be treated as an equal and not as a god damn sack of cement on any person's shoulders. The fact that she had survived this long alone should have been somewhat of an indicator to people that she was tougher than she looked, that she had the ability to adapt against overwhelming odds. Her will to live had never been stronger.
Since coming to Mater the dogs had become very popular amongst the other occupants and that had led to meeting more people than solitary Cydara would ever have liked. She hadn't seen that man in quite a while and had figured the sour puss had moved on to whatever final destination awaited him...if he had one. It was dusk, it was peaceful and quiet and the dull murmur of activity could still be heard. The influx of inmates had not frightened Cydara in the least bit, she remained unafraid of the potentially violent criminals and perhaps in this measure she was a little off her rocker.
Sitting in a playground with a cigarette between her lips and two dogs off in the distance she knew that she would be alerted if anything potentially harmful were on its way toward her and it wasn't as though she hadn't come prepared. After the unfortunate Farmington incident she had stopped and pillaged again if the two pistols resting snugly in their leg holsters were any indication. Sitting on the swings and tapping ash from her cigarette she laid her head against the chain link and sighed, feeling that familiar itching feeling that maybe she should travel on instead of stick up for people she had no real relationship with.
That's what a smart, sane person would do anyway.
THEY DON'T MEAN ANYTHING OH THOSE MEMORIES
( • A S Y O U S P O K E Y O U R F O R K E D T O N G U E S H O W E D • )[/center]
W O R D S • 477
T A G G E D • open
O U T F I T • jeans, dirty white tank top, cowboy boots, and a leather jacket
L Y R I C S • memories by lion if ido
T E M P L A T E • PANIC! ITS LAUZ of CAUTION
N O T E S • these are notes. aren't they pretty?
