Survival instincts.. such a bitch! [open]

[|BlackBird|]

Green eyes shifted silently as the solitary figure walked along. Even after all that has happened the urge to survive had yet to disappear. Having survival instincts was indeed a mother fucker, and she had come to think that more and more. Raven unlike most of the human population had always been interested in the un-dead and paranormal. She had read countless books on these things and that was why she figured she remained alive today. While the rest of her family lay either slaughtered or a lumbering zombie. Either way. The grief over her family being murdered had yet to really sink in and the girl just decided to ignore it. For now.. As she approached the cemetery she breathed out quietly as though she were gathering strength. Obviously, the infected would not come here for no humans ever came here. She had been staying here amongst the graves for almost two entire weeks and had yet to encounter a zombie. The loneliness was what got to the young woman, she craved interaction with her own kind, even though she hated most people. Up ahead walked her two dogs, the only remaining members of her family. They kept her safe too, with their keen senses the two canines always managed to sense the dead before she could. Arriving at her campsite, the girl sat herself down and just tried to relax.

Amazingly enough it wasn’t that hard to do anymore. You adapt after awhile. Raven rubbed her back absently against a tree trunk and looked out across the graveyard. This place still offered her some peace, but she was always listening for noises. Calling her two dogs over she smiled just slightly as she ran her hands through their short hair. They needed to eat. She needed to eat. Which meant sometime during the night she’d have to venture out in search of food.

Raven hated going on searches for food. Because of the zombies that stalked the place. It was dangerous. For now though the hunger wasn’t that bad, they had eaten yesterday. Her hand dropped down into her lap as her dogs rested against her sides, keeping her warm from the crisp autumn air.

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[Lost\\ and //Found??]

Damian

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Damian had taken the outbreak fairly well. His parents had died, not that he or his sister, Melinda, really cared. After, they were the "rich family" and their parents were far too busy with the business to sped any time with their son or daughter. They had been eaten alive whilst Mel and Damian ran for their lives. Adapting to their new lives, now that was a different story. Sure, what with all their father's military equipment, that was the easy part, but moving around, the two of them, along with Conlon, their dog, was risky, so once they had acquired a life for being on the run, they had gone their separate, every once in a while meeting up at their old home or some where around town, telling each other of what had happened since their last meeting.

Pale and silent, Damian Ace walked quietly across the graveyard. Awkward place to be during a zombie attack, no? Surprisingly, the zombies must had figured out that people didn't go their, so they wandered along other places across their city. Their city? Never. Hell was their city, and they should go back. Why kill people they possibly knew after their deaths? Anger? Or did they even have a choice? Were their bodies taken by demons while their souls sat up in heaven, crying tears for their eaten loved ones that would soon join them? Who knew really?

Damian let out a sigh, his right hand falling to his side to pat Conlon's neck. Conlon's copper eyes looked up at Damian, his eyes widened in thought; knowing. Conlon was his only friend, other then Mel, but she was his sister. If he even needed to talk, Conlon was their. Of course, that didn't mean he could speak back, but Damian liked to imagine what he said. Conlon was his look out. He fought at his side, and so far, they had survived.

Conlon's copper eyes left Damian's gray ones, his brownish tan ears lifting up, listening. Instantly, Damian reached to his back, opening his black backpack and taking out a long knife; a nice long one. Zombies in the graveyard? Going back to their graves, finally after all these weeks? Yeah, right. And Conlon was going to sprout wings and fly. A camp? A girl? Another? So it seemed, but just in case, Damian left his knife in his hand, ready to lash out.

"Hello? Is anyone there?" Damian's deep voice was only a few octaves higher then a whisper, just in case it was a zombie. Damian carefully jerked his head sideways, pushing is long blackish brown hair out of his eyes to get a better look at whoever it was.

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