Meme/Voicetesting - set in canon, just after the prison fell

[dum_spiro]

[She'd split up with Rick without much fuss, but no one and nothing is keeping Carol from her family, who she sacrificed everything to protect. Not with ground-shaking blasts coming unmistakeably from the direction of the prison -- a tank, she finds out too late, as she drives up and sees the prison overrun, yard littered with corpses both fresh and long-turned.]

[Her eyes dart across the scene, heart pounding even as she is perfectly, painfully still. No use panicking. Much better to focus, keep her knife ready, and do what she can. Try to identify that movement darting off into the brush as friend or foe -- ]

[Mika, Lizzie...?]

[Not allowing herself to continue hoping in specific names, Carol starts off into the Georgia woods. Each step careful and deliberate, as little sound as possible, senses stretching. Sooner or later she'll hear something, a rustle or a moan or, just maybe, the echo of a familiar voice. Whether she'll be a welcome sight, well. That depends on a lot.]

Comments

[defies_reason]

[There is a rustle, and another-- too big and too regular to be coincidence-- and after a moment the undergrowth parts and a tall man steps into the edge of the clearing she's passing through, carrying a large length of pipe which has obviously seen a good bit of use.

He's not expecting to see another living soul; his eyes widen, but he doesn't let go of his weapon.]

[dum_spiro]

[She's not shocked when someone leaps out at her, at least not as she once would have been. Instead, Carol looks him over in a split second; the pipe, the pause, the distinctly human expression.]

[Her knife is ready, and she doesn't bother to hide it from his view.]

Where'd you come from? [The group that attacked the prison, maybe? Doesn't really matter that much, she'll deal with whatever needs dealing, however it needs dealt. She has things to do.]

[defies_reason]

[The knife, Isaak can respect; the fact that both of them are breathing hardly makes them friends. The living are no less a threat than the dead.]

Originally or most recently?

[he quips, keeping his distance, although he lowers his weapon slightly. It's as much of a gesture of peace as he's willing to make under the circumstances. The jest is perhaps made more obvious by his accent, British but with an underlying roughness.]

I've been heading north, as directly as possible. It's been some time since I've had a map at hand.

[dum_spiro]

[The accent puts her aback more than the response. One doesn't hear that every day in Georgia. However, from his answer she deems it less likely that he was just at the prison. He's making vague jokes, so probably not the recent witness to a massacre.]

North to anywhere in particular? [She has seen a map very recently, not that she's willing to share that tidbit. Not yet.]

[She glances in the direction she'd been headed. Can't afford to spend too much time, but she'd be plain stupid to write off a potential second set of hands, and armed ones at that. Either she'll need to convince them to help her, or... take care of them.]

[defies_reason]

I was in Miami when the present situation began. Rather a dearth of other options.

[He shrugs, at ease as much as one can be when one is surrounded by shambling piles of starving decay, but there's a grim look in his eyes.]

I'd hoped I might find some safe harbour, but that seems less likely each day. And yourself?

[dum_spiro]

[A thick pause as she very obviously is debating what to tell him. In the end, she can find no reason to be anything but honest.]

I was with a group, but we got separated. [Her knife arm relaxes visibly, as if in apology for her open suspicion. If he's traveled that far, though, he should understand. Of course, that begs the important question of how he got this far, if he's been alone.]

[defies_reason]

[Truth told he'd have understood before all this began; but then, most people are not accustomed to expecting the sort of danger about them that he always took for granted. He wonders sometimes, whether criminals have had a higher survival rate than the general public in all this mess.]

Travelling?

[he asks, with some mild interest.]

Most groups I've encountered have been reluctant to undertake too long of a trip, with no guarantee that things are better elsewhere.

[dum_spiro]

They aren't better. [She's not terribly sorry if that bursts a bubble. There's no time for fantasies like that anymore.]

I'm looking for a new place to stay. The old one -- didn't last. [She knows better than to sound hopeful. The prison was their hope, and now all that's left of it is that faint burning smell on the air.]

[Carol shifts her weight, as if to resume walking. If he's going to make some move to kill her, they'd best be on with it. If not, he can join her or not until she sees a reason to the contrary.]

[defies_reason]

At least the weather might be preferable.

[He doesn't expect anything better, anywhere; the truth is he'd have liked to have gone home, to at least have had some familiarity about him, but the airports were among the first facilities to go and he doubts there's any way left in the world to make it to Kiev.]

I'm sorry to hear it. [But not surprised. He's seen any number of abandoned places in his travels; not only those left when the outbreak occurred, but the tiny camps survivors had made and defended and ultimately lost. He eyes her speculatively for a moment before seeming to come to a decision.] Well, as I've no reason to hurry-- would you care for some company, for a time?

[It's safer, not being alone, and she clearly knows the area better than he does.]

[dum_spiro]

[She almost asks it, the first of the questions they all decided on. But, no. There's no sanctuary to bring anyone back to anymore. It's just her and the dwindling-by-the-second hope that she can find someone from the prison... and that they won't agree with Rick.]

[Her chances are better with help. Simple as that.]

[Carol nods toward where she thinks she saw some survivors heading. It's as good a direction as any, really, and if they stand here it's a matter of time before walkers stumble upon them.]

Not much around, but there's some railroad tracks not too far off. I'm hoping my people stick close to them. [She starts off, aware of the stranger's proximity and keeping him in view if she can. Plenty of cushion between.]

[defies_reason]

A better line of sight as well, I expect.

[He nods, and falls into step beside her, content to leave as much distance between them as she needs. Funny; he'd never been in the habit of respecting personal space, before. But he's not looking to intimidate, now. Anything but.]

What's your name?

[dum_spiro]

Carol. [Her reply is as automatic as the way she glances to the left, where a distant walker is stumbling around. She ignores it. Not close enough to be a threat if they keep moving.]

I can't promise anything if I find my people. [Just so there's no expectations. On her part, either.] I guess I don't have to tell you that things haven't gone well, lately.

[defies_reason]

Isaak, [he answers, unprompted, because for all his failings he's still inclined to be polite.]

No offense taken. I hardly expect you to trust me, much less your friends, should we find them.

[He shrugs, shifting his pipe to lean it on his shoulder for easier carrying.]

The most I'd expect is to be let alone to go on my way. And failing that, well.

[Then politeness would cease to be in the question, of course.]

[dum_spiro]

[A nod. That's the world they're living in. Once, she might have been offended by the insinuation.]

I don't think that'll be a problem. No one's better off going it alone, they all know that. [Except maybe Rick. Although there's only so bitter Carol can really be about his decision, now that the Governor's assault on everything she holds dear has put things in perspective.]

[defies_reason]

[Isaak has been on his own since before all this; he'd lost the only thing that mattered before the world fell apart. He's a habitual survivor. He has no plans to lay down and let himself be eaten, but he is not very focused on building anything new. Really, his only plan has been to keep moving.]

Still. Those few of us left know not to expect open arms.

[Or to trust them if they find them.]

[dum_spiro]

[His words ring more than true. At least she can be relieved that Sophia never had to live this reality. She wouldn't have made it. With luck, Carol will have the chance to teach Lizzy and Mika how to survive. They've got to be out here somewhere.]

We don't have to trust each other to kill walkers.

[defies_reason]

Is that what you call them? I've just been calling them corpses.

[This is what small talk has become.]

[dum_spiro]

[She smiles a little at that, humorlessly.] I've heard them called biters, too. And geeks. [That one was Daryl's, so she gets it even if it might not be in classic good taste.]

[defies_reason]

I suppose some variety is to be expected, with no way to communicate across distances.

[He still carries his mobile, for all the good it does. Though he's under no illusion it will ever work again, it's his lone bit of sentimentality: somewhere there is the last message Viktor ever left him.]

Are you from nearby?

prose sample from S4 app

[dum_spiro]

Prose Sample:

The din in this house has changed. In mere hours it has gone from sanctuary to suffocating, the new ghosts of Mika and Lizzy hovering close, dirt from grave-digging casting an earthy scent. They'll try to leave it behind at first light, when it's safer. It's the only logical choice if they're going to continue on.

Tyrese's forgiveness sits just as heavily, unexpected and undeserved. Carol isn't sure whether she's grateful or disappointed that her gun will only be responsible for one death today, but this is how the cards have fallen. Twice the murderess but only now absolved, yet she can't manage to blame Rick. They had all agreed on them, after all, the three questions.

How many walkers have you killed?

It seems so comically naive now, looking back. Sitting at a makeshift table with paper and knife-sharpened pencils, tsk-ing over Carl and Sophia's arithmetic and English. They'd have been far better off learning how to use the textbooks for kindling, the three vulnerable spots of the skull where a sharp pencil might have a chance to penetrate (eye, temple, ear; it's second nature now). Back when she would sooner run and hide than pick up a weapon and stab it deep into a walker's brain.

Back when she was weak. Carol isn't that person anymore. The world won't let her be.

It was simple, really. Once she was over Sophia enough to really think about it, anyway. Walkers are a threat to be protected against, and she had to be ready. She had to learn the best way to hold a knife, how get the headshot when it counts. Kill or be killed. It's just reality.

How many people have you killed?

Mika wasn't fit for this world any more than Sophia had been. Not a mean bone in their bodies, either of them. They deserved better. Maybe that's why, according to the legend Daryl told her, flowers grow in the wake of lost children.

When it comes down to it, whether dealing with walkers or people, you take a risk. Carol knew that since Ed; some people are just bad. Some people want to hurt you. And some people just can't help it, but that doesn't make them any bit less dangerous. Carol vowed she wouldn't let it happen again, now that she knows better. And what that meant, she was prepared for it if the time came.

How she wished it hadn't.

Why?

What would she say, now, if someone were to ask? 'Because it had to be done' sounds so callous, yet it's the only answer she has. It's the only thing that matters. Lizzy couldn't be around other people, Karen and David were the hosts to a deadly disease that she couldn't let spread.

Logic. Survival instinct. The greater good. All entirely correct; none kept her hands from shaking or her tears from flowing. None of them provide a single speck of comfort.

The delicate blossoms of a Cherokee Rose may yet bloom in this secluded grove; Carol won't be around to see it. She and Tyrese will do what they must: take Judith to safety, fight to survive because it's all they know how to do anymore. One foot in front of the other as the steps begin to span miles and months. Her eyes will be dry; blurred vision is a luxury she can no longer afford.