I’ll be home in a little while
Jul. 20th, 2014 06:24 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
warrioreidlos posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
attackonwalkersTheir make-shift guard tower creaks faintly underneath Reiner as he repositions his weight, staring out over the desolate street leading up to the compound. They've tried to clear it out as much as possible, but there is some debris that simply cannot be moved; the wreck of some high exec's midlife crisis stands rusting to the side, testament to all the former decadence of the world. At least there are no bodies. They are always careful to burn those. Nobody needs to smell the rot constantly, after all.
A small movement catches his sight, and Reiner tightens his grip on his gun, immediately coming to attention. Watch shifts tend to be boring with nothing but long stretches of quiet staring out over the wall, but when they get bad, they tend to get bad really quick. It wouldn't be the first time they had a horde of dead show up underneath their wall, forcing them to work hour after hour to dispatch them all.
Another small movement tells him it was no figment of his imagination and he brings his gun at the ready. Soon he can see it clearly, a small figure coming down the desolate street, heading towards their walls. Breathing out slowly, he raises the gun so he can line up his sights, waiting. Nothing but a headshot will do, after all, and there is not sense wasting ammo on a-- No. No.
With a quick motion he jerks his gun down again, eyes wide. That-- That is no zombie. Those movements are too precise to belong to someone without brain function. Trying to keep calm, he fumbles for the binoculars so he can get a better look. Even if it might not be a zombie, that doesn't mean it is safe. It could be a lone survivor, someone looking to trade or someone looking for a place to stay. But it could just as easily be someone half-starved and half-mad, driven so crazy by the world that they are as dangerous, sometimes even more so, as a common walker.
A closer look at the stranger tells them they are well dressed for the situation, armed too but who isn't during these times. No limping. Not the look of someone driven half mad. A trader then. Or someone trying to find a place to stay. It wouldn't be the first time they had taken people in. They could always use a hand or two around here. Raising his binocular slightly, he takes another look, and then he is dropping them, nearly tripping over his own two feet as he hurries down the tower. There is only one person with that profile, only one person who could hack zombie infested terrain on her own for weeks and come out looking like she just took a stroll in the park.
Not bothering to signal anything to anyone else, forgetting completely about the fact that she could carry the infection in her blood, hell, forgetting about the fact that really they never got along too well, Reiner tosses open the gate, pelting down street to meet her halfway so he can toss his arms around her, sweeping Annie up in a bone-crushing hug, tangling his fingers with her grimy hair, practically mashing her face into his shoulder.
Sure, he had projected nothing but confidence towards Bertolt whenever the subject of her would come up in those weeks they had been separated, nothing could hurt Annie, she could hack this, but that had been for a lack of wanting to even consider the alternative, and now, thank fucking god, he doesn't have to.
A small movement catches his sight, and Reiner tightens his grip on his gun, immediately coming to attention. Watch shifts tend to be boring with nothing but long stretches of quiet staring out over the wall, but when they get bad, they tend to get bad really quick. It wouldn't be the first time they had a horde of dead show up underneath their wall, forcing them to work hour after hour to dispatch them all.
Another small movement tells him it was no figment of his imagination and he brings his gun at the ready. Soon he can see it clearly, a small figure coming down the desolate street, heading towards their walls. Breathing out slowly, he raises the gun so he can line up his sights, waiting. Nothing but a headshot will do, after all, and there is not sense wasting ammo on a-- No. No.
With a quick motion he jerks his gun down again, eyes wide. That-- That is no zombie. Those movements are too precise to belong to someone without brain function. Trying to keep calm, he fumbles for the binoculars so he can get a better look. Even if it might not be a zombie, that doesn't mean it is safe. It could be a lone survivor, someone looking to trade or someone looking for a place to stay. But it could just as easily be someone half-starved and half-mad, driven so crazy by the world that they are as dangerous, sometimes even more so, as a common walker.
A closer look at the stranger tells them they are well dressed for the situation, armed too but who isn't during these times. No limping. Not the look of someone driven half mad. A trader then. Or someone trying to find a place to stay. It wouldn't be the first time they had taken people in. They could always use a hand or two around here. Raising his binocular slightly, he takes another look, and then he is dropping them, nearly tripping over his own two feet as he hurries down the tower. There is only one person with that profile, only one person who could hack zombie infested terrain on her own for weeks and come out looking like she just took a stroll in the park.
Not bothering to signal anything to anyone else, forgetting completely about the fact that she could carry the infection in her blood, hell, forgetting about the fact that really they never got along too well, Reiner tosses open the gate, pelting down street to meet her halfway so he can toss his arms around her, sweeping Annie up in a bone-crushing hug, tangling his fingers with her grimy hair, practically mashing her face into his shoulder.
Sure, he had projected nothing but confidence towards Bertolt whenever the subject of her would come up in those weeks they had been separated, nothing could hurt Annie, she could hack this, but that had been for a lack of wanting to even consider the alternative, and now, thank fucking god, he doesn't have to.
