STEALING A PAGE FROM SCRIBBLES' BOOK AND OFFERING OPTIONS

[enervated]

[OPTION A: LONG DEAD WINTER]

[Walking Dead universe, here. Virginia in winter. And up near the mountains, to boot. Not the best place to be, but sometimes you're forced to play the hand you're dealt. And the cold slows down the dead, so there are worse places one could be.

It's just about the only 'good' thing that has happened to Kenny in the past week, and even then, the 'good' it is is highly up for debate. Though honestly, the bad is still stacked high, especially now. A herd separated the group and he's just trudging on through the cold streets trying to locate even ONE of the group. He'd prefer Clementine, if he had to think about it, but he wouldn't turn down Mike. Or even Bonnie. Luke... Luke, well, Luke- he doesn't want to encounter Luke, the fucking turd. Kenny's already chalked this fuckup to Luke, the boy's as bad as fucking BEN, and that takes some real talent. Some real, real talent.

He just keeps moving; a true figure of depressed, PTSD determination stalking his way through the cold, mostly empty streets. One hand on his firearm, the other on a knife. Firearm for survivors. Knife for the dead. To say he's prepared to stop anything that might slow him down from getting back with the group is an understatement.

Man, fuck this town though, how the hell is he supposed to find anybody here?]

[OPTION B: AN UNFAMILIAR PLACE]

[Your character's universe.

The last thing he remembered was the showdown against the fucking Russians. Russians. In Virginia. Of all the things. The kid in the leg brace pointed the finger at them for something they hadn't done, ambushed the lot of them. And then when Kenny fired his gun - Clementine called for help and he had given it without hesitation - they assumed he was firing at them instead of putting down someone who deserved a better life than what had unfolded. The Russians began firing at all of them, and in turn they (Mike, Bonnie, Luke, Kenny) began shooting as well.

He had one of the sons of bitches right in his sights.

And now he was here. On the ground. It didn't feel cold, and he didn't feel DEAD. Slowly, he opened his one working eye.

This... was not a cold, snowy road outside of some town in Virginia.]

Oh shit...

[OPTION C: BLIND LEADING BLIND]

[Wildcard. You get to make up the shit here, it could totally be anything.]

Comments

[enervated]

"Ah, hell." He seems embarrassed by the fact she has addressed he has called himself a monster and also saying that Clementine wouldn't think he's one. Kenny even looks away some because hell no is he letting her see his face at being told that sort of thing.

"She sure as shit doesn't see me as a hero. She takes more care of me than I do of her, anyway."

It's true. But he doesn't seem embarrassed about that fact, as evidented by a shift in his tone of voice, one more resigned and accepting. Perhaps even a little regretful.

[allthatmatters]

"Pretty sure that's what friends do." There's a wry ruefulness in her tone. She never thought she needed those, refused to accept she ever needed help. The fact that he's not ashamed of relying on a young girl, on admitting it - that takes its own kind of guts.

They're walking through some of LA's back alleys, now, dank and thin and rank. (They were never that great, really, but nowadays they're covered in gore and grime.)

"Besides, there are a lot of ways to be a hero."

[enervated]

He doesn't really even notice the smell. He's been living with the smell of rotting flesh for two years, along with not showering or cleaning clothes regularly or so on. There's just no time or room to think about those things anymore. But he is, however, keeping his eye on the surroundings.

"Hell, I don't even wanna be seen as a hero. I just keep my people safe, best I can. That ain't heroic. That's just doin' the right thing."

He just leads when they need him to, fights when they need him to, kills when they need him to, plans when they need him to. That's not heroic. That's just doing the only job he's fit to do in the world anymore.

"And, heh, yeah, that little girl's about the only friend I got in this world anymore."

[allthatmatters]

"Sometimes one is all you need." Her voice is softer, now, and a touch wistful. She hasn't seen Angel for years - she only got back to LA a week before it went to hell. She's heard rumbles and whispers, of course, but fuck knows how much of it's true.

But she can't focus on wondering about him, much less trying to find him. She needs to survive, and save as many people as she can. Chances are good they'll cross paths sooner or later. Whatever else is happening, she knows what his priorities are, too.

"And sometimes - you can't afford to be a friend, and you need to be..." A cop. A hunter. A protector. "A leader."

[enervated]

"I used to lead." But he doesn't offer more. There's some limits to what parts of his past he cares to talk about; the parts with Lee, with his family, he doesn't want to tread there. That's a wound too deep that'll never heal. Best not to talk about it. "Not anymore."

But now those thoughts have entered his head, and he walks a little stiffer. He's trying to shut down and shut all those things out. Best to be in the moment. Don't go there.

"I make plans, but that's about it now. They ain't always the best, though, but somebody's gotta fuckin' do it."