Rusted From The Rain || mod

One thing that Alex was never going to get used to was the utter solitude of the abandoned streets. He was probably never going to get used to it. How could you even start to find any of this 'normal'? Roads where purring cars once bumbled up and down at all hours of the day were now completely still except for rubbish and rotting leaves blown gently by the wind, and except for the few walkers you could encounter, the replacement of the once habitual pedestrians that'd previously occupied the sidewalks. Vehicles sat abandoned, gathering dust, and the hedges that lined the street were now overgrown and wild. It was a grim sight to behold.

The blonde, his hair tied back in a taut bun instead of its habitual braid (safety first), didn't usually wander past the walls alone, in fact it was something he rarely did. The feeling of loneliness, as if you were the last man alive for miles, was something he despised. Not a lot of things could get him down, but such gloominess and isolation could really kill his mood in an aching way; it killed the man from the inside. He was used to being surrounded by people, he thrived around other people, and being the only sane and uninfected person in the vicinity could really mess with his head.

Usually, he'd pester for a fellow Scout member to accompany him - for the company, not because he was a chicken - but today it seemed like the sun was shining brighter than usual; a good omen in his book. It wouldn't hurt to go for a stroll by himself for once. Maybe shoot a couple of those rotting fuckers and make sure no fresh packs of them had formed overnight in the streets surrounding the settlement. 

Birch Road was the closest street that hadn't yet been absorbed into the camp; apparently it was something that they were working on because the football field would be heaven-sent for the overworked farming plots in Maple Park. People just kept on arriving - not as many as at the start now which was a worrying thought - and soon housing and food were going to get more scarce. It was inevitable. The assembled council were planning ahead but it wouldn't be a bad idea to maybe hurry up a bit.

Alex walked with a relaxed gait that betrayed how alert he actually was, his eyes darted vigilantly from sidewalk to sidewalk, lingering on the spaces between parked cars and open windows. His feet trod almost silently on the road's asphalt, playing a silly game with himself that involved not standing on the white, painted marks in the middle of the road. Being out in the open didn't scare him too much, but there was no denying the ball of jitters he felt in his stomach. You'd have to be inhuman to not feel uneasiness from being out there. 

Over his back, slung casually but in easy reach, was his bow and quiver of arrows. Alex wasn't carrying melée weapons today, a risky move on his part. He knew too well how you could suddenly find yourself surrounded by a large wave of infected. Tucking a stray curl of honey hair behind his ear, Alex took a deep inhale through the yellowing filter of his cigarette as he walked. Smoking was probably one of the only pleasures he still invested in and, god, before he'd thought his habit had been expensive - now it was insanely expensive. It was funny though; before he'd worried that his habit would kill him, now it was his habit that helped him keep his cool. And keeping your cool nowadays meant staying alive.

But fuck it was quiet. Perhaps an Offense team had just cleared the area recently or the biters were just hiding extra well due to the sun's intense rays today. Or maybe he was just lucky this afternoon.

ooc:: carrying osage orange bow, arrows, cigarettes. ate vegetables, ew.