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[ Day 1: Pre-dawn | Beulah ]

It wasn’t as if she was particularly attached to the drone family she’d been given.

When she saw their bodies in the rubble of 949 Beulah Street, it hadn’t exactly been heartache she had choked on. No, not heartache… dread perhaps – with a healthy amount of pain. After all, nobody got out of a bombing without a few scrapes. The only thing that remained of her house was the basement.

How had she survived?

She did what she could to assess what could be salvaged in the dark, finding dirtied dresses of a heavier fabric in a few boxes. So it seemed as if she’d kept seasonal wear down here in another life. Or whatever it was considered.

Sturdy shoes, a wool coat in a disgustingly cheerful red that made her nervous (no other choice though), and a trip to the sunken remains of her kitchen left her as ready as she could be. Foodstuff and a slightly bent butcher knife were tucked in the oversized pockets of the coat. She needed to find people if she wanted to stay safe – from what she didn’t know, but her street was in the same condition as her house.

(Expect her to be looking in the wreckage, whether scavenging or people hunting)

[ Day 2: Afternoon | In Town ]

She hadn’t known what she’d expected to find in the days after her new ‘home’ was bombed. That night Cosette had branched out toward the main area of town to discover only two buildings standing strong… And then she’d remembered what Estonia had warned her on about the milk. Of course

The rumbling of beat up vehicles gave her too many unpleasant memories to boldly go toward the signs of life. Ducking behind what had been a sturdy (quaint) wall, she waited, hoping that it would pass, the handle of her knife clutched in her hand.
Mortality – for once she had it. Monaco exhaled and rolled toward the end to peer around the crumbling brick to see if the vehicle was any closer. Three guesses and the first two don’t count… bingo. Her breath caught in her chest when she saw the head ornaments (oh God…) adorning the grill. That was no friend…

For once she was glad that she’s glad for being short, but there’s no way she can continue to wear the coat in plain sight. Not during the day. For that matter, it was risky to bolt. She cut up her knees crawling toward a better hiding place along the wall, cursing quietly at the sting.

She needed to go underground if she could, though, and as soon as possible. It was quiet.

Too quiet.

The engine had stopped rumbling and she could only assume (if she were thinking then) whatever was driving had stopped to scout out the area. Maybe they could sense life in this hell hole. She wasn’t going to stick around to fight off whatever it was though. Any pain she felt was ignored for the urge to slink away from this part of town as noiselessly as she could.

Too late; the first howl rang out in the muddy afternoon and she didn’t dare turn back to see how close they were. She ran.

[ Day 3: Evening | Residential ]

It hurt, in ways that she had not experienced in quite some time. She had ditched her coat in the chase against the cannibals, losing her food (but the knife – that had remained in her hand in a grip so harsh she didn’t know if she could pry her fingers loose) and additional protection from the elements in the process. She’d survived through a lot. She was older than she looked. She felt the kind of helplessness only felt by those that knew they were dying. The bombing had been done with two days ago, but the radiation that she had been inhaling had worked its wonders.

She could barely see straight anymore. In fact, she had fallen more times than not and had noticed how freely she bled, more than any scrape should ever. It’s strange. She should be tucked away, hoping for this to just be the affects of not having food and scarce water, but Cosette knew… And branched out toward the once attractive (enough) residential blocks to seek solace in some crumbling basement. It was going to be dark soon and she didn’t want the cannibals to try another go at her.

Everything was going hazy. She swore she could hear footsteps. Impossible… Resolutely, she shut her eyes. Perhaps she had already given up...

(Passed out, barely living shorty. She won’t make it through this.)

Day 1

Date: 2011-12-01 08:48 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
[Estonia's back on Beulah Street after making sure there was a base to be had at Ukraine's house with the others. When he spots the familiar nation, he makes a point of heading over to her, waving.]


Date: 2011-12-05 02:27 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
[Come to save little red riding hood, have you?; glancing back at her name, she stopped and turned toward the boy]

Estonia --
You look lively for an early morning disaster...

[Must be the whole 'while in Russia' thing he had going for him.]

Date: 2011-12-06 12:50 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
Heh... It could be worse! [Yeah, you say that now, kid.]

But how are you?

Date: 2011-12-12 05:42 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
Shell-shocked, quite literally... [She backtracked to where he was, looking at he state of rubble as far as the eye could see, then at the blond] Why are we still alive? The drones did not fair so well, at least in my house...

Date: 2011-12-15 08:58 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
[He shakes his head.]

I have no idea what sort of method you would use for something like this. Selective destruction. It seems to be uniform across the town, though, from what I've heard and seen with the others.

Date: 2011-12-25 12:15 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
The whole town?

[No, Estonia- she isn't gaping at you. She's just breathing in the cool air that is delightfully full of radiation! Mmm. Radiation.]

Have you established correspondence with anyone else yet?

Day 3

Date: 2011-12-01 05:44 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
[Alfred was doing his best to help everyone. With two guns on hand and some spare ammo he was doing decently well, but those cannibals were just too many. Eventually he'd have to start backtracking to the residential streets if he didn't want to get eaten as well.

Needing to reload, he searches around until he sees the tell-tale darkness that indicated there was a temporary shelter nearby.

He descends upon the basement carefully, unaware anyone was there until he sees a faint outline.

Frowning, he goes forward cautiously. It didn't look like a cannibal or dead yet for that matter.

H-hey? [He calls out just in case he was wrong.]

Date: 2011-12-05 03:06 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
[She wasn't dead yet, but she felt like it. Cosette had been leaning against the crumbling concrete walls but nausea had her doubling over on the floor, breathing deep to try and wait it out.

The voice sounded foggy, just like everything else looked and at first she hadn't responded. She looked toward the direction where she'd thought it'd come from anyway, seeing an outline. So it was attached to someone...]

...Hello? America?


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❝ Cosette Grimaldi ❞

January 2015

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