convxctd-blog

Latest Posts by convxctd-blog

What is your biggest fear both from before the outbreak and after?

HONESTY HOUR*

      ❝  i don’t remember much from before. but i remember my soldiers, my companions. && i remember being terrified when we were sent to war. not for myself, but for them. you know, we made a promise to each other every time        if one of us were to not make it back into the arms of those we loved, the rest would take care of them. wives, children, husbands. friends. siblings. mothers. fathers. cousins. grandparents. they were all family to us. && we’ve always made true to our promise. so, what i’m trying to say is that it’s the same answer for both. my biggest fear is losing my family && being the last one alive, knowing i didn’t do everything in my power to keep them by my side.  ❞

@convxctd

who are some people you've met that you enjoy being with?

HONESTY HOUR*

     ❝  i really enjoy COUCH POTATO’S company. noah’s been a … good friend of mine since i first met him. he makes everything around him feel normal, as if we weren’t surrounded by monsters. you don’t really realize how much you need it until you’ve experienced it. quill’s up there too. we’re in different communities, but we’ve spent a lot of time on the road together, before reaching cheyenne. he grows on you, && i can confidently say that i’d do anything for him. miss campfire’s pretty fun. she always has something to say && there isn’t much moments that are dull with her.  ❞

@revenios, @conflicticn, @convxctd

quatucr:

BACK pushed against the wall, chair tilted, the soldier couldn’t help but smile at the sight in front of her. Her arms were crossed against her front, letting Quinn struggle with the contraption until he turned towards her. “Did you manage to get it to work?” She inquired, her eyes peering over to the coffee maker, as if it was about to explode. “But yes, I’d love some.”

“I’m NOT promising we won’t be scalded by an exploding coffee machine in the next few seconds but I’m pretty confident.“ The TENSE shrug of his shoulders proved Quinn didn’t have much faith in his words as the appliance emitted noises that made him take some cautious steps backwards. As a prominent beep sounded and coffee flowed into the pot below Quinn released a held breath, moving forwards to pour himself and Four a coffee. "How’s things over at Whispering Chase?”

ashhes:

Ashley brightened, considerably, stifling a small yawn as soon as the word ‘coffee’ was mentioned. She was tired. Before all of this, she’d been an avid coffee drinker. She’s missed it “You got it WORKING?” She can’t help but ask, impressed, before nodding, grateful. “I’d love a cup, if you have one to spare. It’s been so long. My mouth is watering over just the thought.” Ashley pauses. “I may have been a bit of a coffee addict back in the day.”

Quinn was visibly doubtful of the term WORKING, with his lips slightly pursued and his brow furrowed, it was clear he wasn’t completely sure that the coffee machine wouldn’t blow up. “I hope so.” His uncertainty was put to rest as the sort of fresh coffee poured into the pot below. A smile pulled at his lips at the girls admittance, pouring two cups and placing them on the table with a laugh. “ADDICT, huh? I used to be, like, way before all of this…I don’t think I’ve had coffee in more than SEVEN years.”

He lost the thread of things. His inner star went out.

Adonis, from “Another Voice,” Mihyar of Damascus: His Songs, transl. by Adnan Haydar and Michael Beard (BOA Editions Ltd., 2008)

FOCUSED eyes bore into the component below him as he took a tactical step back to analyse the problem, a HUFF of frustration following. Quinn braced his arm on the table as he lowered himself so he was eye level with his torment; the coffee machine. The generator was still powered but yet he couldn’t seem to HEAT the beverage. His hands ghosted over the various buttons, deciding on one and the beep that followed was hopefully a good one. He turned towards the survivor seated behind him, half sheepish, half triumphant. “Coffee?”

Quinn had never been great at sleeping and solitary confinement for six years didn’t help. He often found himself wandering or maybe searching for something at the most obscure hours. Without the steady rise and fall of his fellow survivors chest, Quinn would have swore it was a corpse he was staring at. His voice didn’t have any impact so he opted for the slightly more physical approach of kicking at the sole of her foot. His eyes flickered towards the bottle then back to it’s owner, head titled every so slightly as his arms folded across his chest. His seemingly defensive body language didn’t correlate with the amused half smile playing on his lips as his shoulders lifted in a shrug. “Wakey wakey wasn’t doin’ much, I felt creepy just standin’ around so that was my next best idea.”

Elliot slept like the dead. The actual dead, not the undead which clearly had a difficult time staying asleep. The only thing that deepened her sleep was a night infused with alcohol and the night before had required it. One shot to keep warm, two shots to keep warmer, three shots to feel cozy. And then so on and so forth until she’d built up a hazy home around herself with the crackling fire to keep her company. Four hours of solid sleep, no dreams, just pitch darkness and momentary solace. But in a world so disrupted everything ended all too quickly, life and sleep alike. She sat bolt upright, eyes still closed, the empty clink of a warm bottle run cold as it fell from her lap with the disturbance.“That was fuckin’ offensive.” Elliot announced as she rubbed her eyes, trying to steady herself from being roused too early.