filledechance: (► moe blob)
Cosette Grimaldi: Monaco

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filledechance: (► far away)
[ 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.)
filledechance: (against a wall)
And you may tell yourself
This is not my beautiful house!
And you may tell yourself
This is not my beautiful wife!

{ 949 Beulah Street. Good morning! }

It's under 500. )

{ Hey. Hey. Pick up your phone. }

H-Hello? I … well I apologize for calling whomever you are but I need help. Immediately. [a little firmer] At once.

I am unsure about where I am but this has to be some perverse mistake!

[Why no, she’s so tunnel vision that she hasn’t noticed all of the pictures of her with that guy and two kids because she may begin hyperventilating if she does. As it were, the phone is meeting an unpleasant morning with her vice-like grip.]

Please help me. Is this a joke? Please let it be some foolish joke.

⇨ hmd

Jul. 15th, 2011 08:01 pm
filledechance: (thinking)

How’s my driving?
➺ Comment screening on. ➺ IP logging off. Anonymous enabled.


Jul. 14th, 2011 09:51 am
filledechance: (Default)
Come a little closer.
There are a few ways you can contact me! Private message, messengers, and plurk are all valid.
If you can teleport, sweet. Share that. Now.
Plurk is the easiest way to get me outside of PMs. Feel free to add me here!


filledechance: (Default)
❝ Cosette Grimaldi ❞

January 2015

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