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Post by romain zadok fontenot on Oct 11, 2009 15:19:34 GMT -5
silence, the sky is an ocean, we're being swept out.
my arms reaching up to the drowned,
we are a monument in this twilight now.
If there was one thing that Zadok really, really hated, it was raiders. They made one big mess of everything. Everywhere they went, destruction ensued. Graffiti, broken windows and doors, and the interior was even worse. There was still graffiti, the furniture was completely trashed, and any valuables were either also ruined or stolen, like the supplies. Not that there was a whole lot of use anyone had for money anymore. And yeah, everyone stole now. It was necessary for survival. But while everyone did it, not everyone destroyed everything in sight. Just the raiders. And when Zadok made his way into the city library, he found that this place was not spared in the slightest from the raiders’ filthy hands.
Books were strewn all over a floor littered with empty beer cans and syringes. If they were lucky, the pages were all still intact. Most of them weren’t in such good condition. No, they were a mess, pages torn and scattered every which way. Well, that was a damn shame. The thing was, Zadok had come here in the hopes of reading a bit. Sure, there was a library much closer to his base, but it didn’t have nearly the selection that this one did. Or, was supposed to have, anyway. It was a gargantuan library, after all. There by all rights should have been piles of books, magazines, and periodicals just waiting for his perusal.
With a slight sigh, Zadok picked his way carefully through the mess, his gun at the ready. No need to get his sorry ass killed just because he was being stupid and reckless. That would bring shame to his entire family, Le Bon Dieu rest their souls. No need to do that. So, glancing around himself warily, he made his way over to the nearest bookshelf, hoping to find something worth his while to read there. Glancing down the aisle, he saw no one, so he sidled in, starting to examine the titles.
Unfortunately for him, he’d found what kids call the “boring” section. All history and science and math. And it just so happened that Zadok was a kid at heart. So, shaking his head distastefully, he left that section and moved a little ways down, to where the shelves were clearly labeled as fiction, hoping to find something with a bit of action, drama, and intrigue on one of these shelves. After all, it took at least one explosion and a gun fight and maybe a car chase to keep him occupied.
His gaze immediately fell on one particular book, and he picked it up from the shelf, turning it in his hands to examine the front cover. Neuromancer by William Gibson. A cyberpunk novel, a dystopia. Something that Zadok had enjoyed reading before the outbreak, and something that would certainly keep him occupied. With a slight smile at the irony of it, he carried the book over to the nearest chair that was in relatively good condition, plopped himself into it, and opened the book, thumbing through the first couple of pages to the actual book. He never was one for introductions.
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TAGGED Open!
WORD COUNT Five hundred and twenty-two
TUNAGE The Mission - Puscifer / Scenotaph (DJA Infected Remix) - Emanuel
NOTES None in particular <3 |
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Post by William J. Crane on Oct 12, 2009 20:24:00 GMT -5
The door creaked open, sitting on the bed with a book in-hand was Briton fingering through the pages meticulously. William eased onto the bed, annoyed when he didn’t immediately look up at his presence. His brows furrowed, and he noticed Briton smirk while turning yet another page…--------------------------------------------------------------- Books. A multitude of bound paper with words illustrated within them, telling a story. Telling a history, the biography of a man. Of mankind. Would Briton be here? William cocked his head and squint his eyes as he allowed his head to wobble with thoughts. The building was massive, although he had seen bigger in his lifetime. Was this a pun? Certainly, humor did not fail the man. Although, it was useless to him he occasionally cracked a joke or two. Nothing seemed to ever amuse him anymore. William admittedly had a bland taste in things, such as the renowned ‘why did the chicken cross the road’ or ‘how many... does it take to screw in a light bulb’. But now he began to wonder, sliding the bat off his shoulder and tapping it against the cracked concrete, if he only laughed because he was supposed to. For, it occurred to him he never laughed unless the latter showed some inclination of amusement. Was that healthy? Probably not. William’s head rolled to the other shoulder, shrugging so that he was able to rub it against his itching face.
The gravel rumbled and the bat reverberated his it was dragged across the surface, sounding as it hit against the level of the steps William practically crawled upon until he stood at the entrance of the library. Why must it be so intimidating? The man waved his bat at the building, as if wafting away any potential threat that would be behind those doors like a bad odor. One door was dislodged, thus he managed to squeeze through instead of opening the one beside and causing a ruckus. He slumped forward, as if the ceiling was not adequate for his height. The light flowed through whatever would be considered a window—such as large cracks or holes in the wall, as well as the actual, architectural glass—lighting the first room, which William assumed was once a check-out area. He sauntered forward, feeling his weight collide with the pressure of his foot stamping against the ground and noting that he enjoyed this.
Was that paranoia, or did he hear shuffling? William’s grip tightened on his bat regardless of the present danger being a falsity. Stepping over the pillars and whatnot that once belonged to the roof of the building, making it look difficult although he did it with such ease. He moved into the next section of the room, which consisted of disheveled bookshelves and piles of books (or rather their skeletons) scattered across the floor. William tried over one such pile and stumbled forward, catching himself on what was probably the last standing shelf. He patted the side, thanking it for its assistance. The gratitude, however, was cut short when he noticed a figure shift in the veil of misted lightness. His heart stopped beating.
Logic told him this couldn’t be. There was absolutely no way, but his heart dared to question this anonymous silhouette. Carefully, he stalked up on the being unaware of the clamor each step made, for his mind sang loudly the name of his brother. It was as though he was in a trance that was broken when fair locks turned to black and a somewhat slender figure turned to a larger, athletic build. Obviously, this was not his brother. All interest faded the moment the realization crashed into his person and ripped asunder the hopeful soul that coursed wildly through his veins until there was none left. Certainly, this wasn’t the first time he allowed himself to be fooled, but he continued to allow it. Was that idiocy or naivety? There was simply no way he could just move on.
William slouched forward, the bat hanging loosely at his side. All shine dissipated from his eyes, a blank stare forth at the man that tricked him. Animosity stung his chest, an intense pain that kept him from responding. His head dropped to the side. --------------------------------------------------------------- … William was aware what he was doing, and didn’t like a moment of it. He tore the book from Briton’s grasp and tossed it across the room, rolling on top of his brother to assert his dominance over him. William’s complex expression was softened by Briton’s triumphant smile. “The book said you’d do that…”
“You shouldn’t need a book to woo me, sweetheart.” William gripped at his chest, annoyed he’d fallen into this methodical trap. “Does your little book predict all my actions?” His touch descending from Briton’s torso, which he eagerly allowed, “I wouldn’t know, I haven’t been reading it.”
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Post by mai kosovka navaeh on Oct 15, 2009 12:10:53 GMT -5
;love me, hate me, say what you want about me,,
Tap, tap, tap. Her bo staff tapped the ground as she used it as a make-shift cane, pushing it down on the ground before her steps, pushing it back up when she took one. The tap was sort of calming, regardless of the echo that it caused in the desolate area, but it was a sound, and any sound of any kind, sans raiders, was welcome to Mai's ears.
The library, and more specifically, the city library, where Mai came every to and fro to come for a book and read for a bit. A science-fiction nerd, she assumed they'd probably never see the day when they'd live on the moon or have shopping malls on Mars, but at least the fiction was still there, the imaginary worlds weren't torn to shreads by the lifeless air.
Last time she'd been here, she met someone, someone who ended up being important to her, and someone who ended up dying in a raiders' march. It caused her great sympathy, and with her remembrance, she placed a hand on her heart and shed a few tears as if letting herself feel guilty for the fact they were dead. Everyone important to her was dead. Her partner, her best friend, her family...oh, how she longed for some sort of company, some sort of reassurance that she wasn't alone. But she pushed the thought aside and tapped over to the fiction section, toward the B's. She'd finished the A's recently, and was seven books into the B section.
Jim Butcher's Dresden series, the second, Fool Moon, was what her hand decided to grab. She flipped through the pages and coughed, the dust entered her lungs before being exhaled in a forceful puff. The first book was quite good, and she couldn't wait to find out what happened in the second. So, tap, tap, tap, over to the chair she normally sat in, and with that, the opening of the book and a quiet moment thereafter.
Page five now, and she was already giggling, unaware to even think that someone might be there, watching her, ready to kill her, but if she had to die now, then it might as well be here. Dying wasn't of utmost care to her, with everyone so far gone, that she thought it'd be better in the end to join them. She wouldn't kill herself, naturally, but instead would wait until the moment happened that someone else would launch their weapon upon her and gently drain the life out of her.
But she pushed the tears aside, and they were soon forgotten in the sounds of her laughter.
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