loosinglights

[loosinglights]

@shotgvnshells ; near the council building

There is some blood speckled across Matteo's shirt when he approaches Denny, and deep furrows have drawn themselves into his forehead. It is late, he has gotten little sleep in the last few days, and having a beloved member of the community and a friend die in his own arms tonight, had not been easy on him, and his features. He had sent someone out to get Denny, so that he would not have to search for him all night, and offered him a brief nod as a greeting. "Evening. I'm sure you've heard about what happened." The news had surely made town quickly, there was nothing that would be able to prevent that.

"We need to create a few security measures regarding our new friends. They seem to feel the most comfortable in the dark, but that also means they might approach us at night. The raiders do not know if they radiate warmth, so I am not sure if their heat signature can and will be helpful. Tonight, please place double the guards on the wall, especially in the east." Matty brushed his hand through his hair, "Any ideas on your side? We need to strengthen the walls for sure."

[loosinglights]

@sublimedreaming ; at the radio station

Recently, Matty has been lying to himself. Pretending like there was still hope to find his wife, and more often than not, that exact thought lead him down the main road, into the darker parts of the safe zone, to find the radio station. Jérémie had likely grown used to seeing his face glance in through the windows, and today was no different. Matty opened the door after knocking, placed a freshly made burger in a bag of paper on the table, and sat on one of the wooden chairs. He had helped with crafting them when they first found the safe zone, and they had now ended up somewhere where they were not used as frequently, given they were squeaking and creaking, and not really comfortable, anyway. Still, to him, they brought comfort. Something that nudged his back and told him time has passed, and you're still here.

"Nothing new?", he asks, "We should notify the other safe zones about the discovery of the scratchers. Would be best for them to know before they enter dark buildings on their own. Just tell them we found them near a cave, and say nothing about the warehouse.", Matty notes, "We need new resources for our own, and as long as they are not in terrible need, we will not share this time, the council has voted."

[loosinglights]

@prevailsmercy ; near the library

The last few days were drowning in darkness, and every smallest glimpse of light was appreciated. One of those came in form of Marika, near the library, holding a medicine themed book. Teaching had once been his true passion -- residents, students, he'd loved it all. But through books, came danger -- misinterpretation, or misunderstandings, no matter how smart the student might be, and Marika, he deemed pretty smart. Still, Matty sat down on the bench right next to her, and knocked his knuckles against the cover of the yellowed book.

"You're studying?", he questions, "What for?" Matty lifted a hand, "Not judging, or skeptical. Just curious. You rarely see someone wanting to learn about medicine anymore. Most people are not quite ready to lift responsibility into their own hands. Learning might mean you will feel guilty when you cannot succeed." He thinks of Carter, and lets the thought linger in his mind for a second, before brushing it off. "Are you ready for that?"

[loosinglights]

"Sounds an awfully lot like you got into a fight, Paloma." While amused, his tone is denoted with skepticism, and Matteo only turns around when he hears her place her bow on the back counter. "So is your arm hurt, or your leg?" He pushes his rolling chair in her direction, and gestures for her to sit down, watching her clenching teeth, "So your arm. Does it just hurt, or are you unable to move it?" Gloves, are nothing he uses here, if it is not for a surgery. They are too rare for such simple things, and instead, he uses the self made disinfectant for his hands, to spare her of infections.

"My night shifts will never be boring with you around." There are not really nightshifts in the safe zone -- they knock on his door, or yell at him to come by, when there is an emergency, and sometimes, when there is not really. Sleep has been optional for the last thirteen years, anyway. "Tell me what happened, but precisely. Do you remember where you hit the ground?" He lifted his hands and touched her arm, "You really need to be more careful."

medical  centre  —  closed  starter  (@loosinglights)

paloma  didn’t  knock.  she  never  did.

just  pushed  the  clinic  door  open  with  her  shoulder,  holding  her  left  arm  stiff  like  it  might  fall  off  if  she  moved  it  the  wrong  way.  she  wasn’t  bleeding  this  time  —  not  really  —  but  there  was  dirt  on  her  cheek,  and  the  sleeve  of  her  jacket  had  been  ripped  clean  at  the  seam.

“matty,”  she  called,  not  loud  but  definitely  with  intent.  “you  busy?  or  do  i  get  to  be  your  favorite  patient  again?”

she  was  grinning,  of  course.  she  always  was.  the  kind  of  grin  that  said  yeah,  i’m  probably  limping,  but  it’s  not  that  bad,  stop  looking  at  me  like  that.

paloma  moved  toward  the  back  counter,  setting  her  bow  down  gently  —  always  gently  —  and  started  unzipping  her  jacket  with  her  teeth  clenched.  “before  you  say  anything,”  she  added  quickly,  pointing  a  finger at  the  nearest  shadow  that  looked  like  it  might  be  him,  “i  did  not  get  into  a  fight.  i  tripped.  technically.  over  a  root.  on  patrol.”

beat.

“…twice.”

[loosinglights]

A quiet snort can be heard from where he is sitting, while his head tips back against the wooden wall of the box. The horse leans down and huffs a warm breath against his hair, so he lifts his hand to scratch it's chin, until it draws back upwards. "I do hope she loved me a lot. I loved her a lot. We met in High School. I was an outcast, nerdy and all that. Hang out in the chemistry classroom after school, and saw her walking past the door one day. I never forgot her after that." More, he does not share. He rarely talks about her, anyway, not with his friends, not with his foes.

"You were really young.", Matty points out, "Almost a teenager, but still a kid. And even adults become kids, in situations like these. You see me arguing with some of them, day and night. Stuff like this awakes the true nature of humans. Which is why we are so careful." He sits up straighter. "I was scared, when our car crashed, and everyone started running. I was incredibly scared. But not for me. Just for my wife." His fingers trace a few balms of hey on the ground, "You did the right thing. There was nothing you could have done to help them, without dying yourself. And your parents wouldn't have thanked you for that. I know that if I had been injured, I would have urged my wife to leave me behind, and to start over new."

They talked about it, for a few brief seconds in the car, when all hell broke loose. Matteo had told her the exact same thing -- leave me behind. Find someone new. Start a new life. Forget about all of this. But they had both known, that that would be hard. "You cannot just erase twelve years together. You cannot just forget that. Neither of us can. But that is okay." Matty patted the hey right next to him, "Come here. I'll tell you something funny."

olivia had been quiet when she first heard his voice, startled, maybe, but not unkindly. the dim glow of a hanging lantern cast soft shadows across the barn walls, swaying slightly with the breeze that slipped through the old wood. she sat cross legged in the hay, arms wrapped loosely around her knees, eyes distant. she didn't say anything still, just let the silence stretch. it felt more honest than forcing comfort. instead, she scooted over slightly, patting the hay next to her like it might make the space more welcoming. "yeah." she mumbled, eyes on the flame inside the glass. "sleep's been hard lately, the horses calm down more at night, so sometimes i come out here and just...listen." his words hit gently at first before growing heavy. she turned her head to look at him fully, her expression softening with each sentence. "i know," she spoke, voice barely above a whisper. "i don't think we ever get the time we think we'll have. it's like one second you're makin' plans, and the next, the world just takes 'em." she paused, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. "she sounds like she loved you a lot, and i think…if she could see you now, surviving, helping people, she'd be proud." her voice softened, barely more than a whisper. "i'm sorry, matty. really." and then, after a beat, "you can talk about her, you know. if you ever want to."

she hesitated, her eyes dropping to her hands, picking absently at a piece of hay in her lap. "i miss my parents too." olivia admitted quietly almost like saying it too loud might make the ache worse. "still. every day, in ways i can't even explain. it's been years, and it still hits me like it just happened." she didn't cry, but her voice hollowed out, as if the grief had carved itself into her and never left. "i was only twelve..." her throat worked around the memory, and she shook her head slightly. "i remember the last thing my mama said to me. we were rushing, packing, trying to leave before things got bad. she kissed my forehead, and told me to grab my favorite sweater, because it'd be cold out there, and i did. i grabbed it, but i didn't say i love you back. i don't even know why, i just figured i'd say it later." she swallowed hard, knuckles white where her fingers clenched the fabric of her pants. "there was no later." she shrugs. "we lived way out on our family farm. no neighbors close enough to hear the screams, no sirens coming, just smoke. i remember the sound of the fire more than anything, how loud it got. i ran out into the pasture barefoot and just stood there, watching the house burn. they didn't come out. i waited, i waited ‘til the roof gave in and the sky went orange, and then i was alone. i still think about them a lot. about whether they were scared, if they knew what was happening, if they were calling for me. i ran like they told me to, but part of me still wishes i hadn't."

[loosinglights]

@apocasurvived ; house of the council

Pounding headaches are something Matty has grown very used to. Staring into four, partially scared and dirty faces, and then in those of the survivors, that had just lost a friend, ripped him apart, piece by piece. When he returned to the room they held their emergency meeting in, he expected it to be empty, but it wasn't. Adi had stuck around, and maybe it saved him from shedding a tear, or two. "You should go home. Take the files to the library tomorrow." Matty pauses, furrows his brows, and shakes his head, "Scrap that. It's too important." Scratchers. A new word, added to the inventory in his head. One that cuts, or scratches, deep.

"Were you two close?", he asks Adi. Maybe because he wishes that's what they would ask him. Instead they just ask about the new zombies, about how Carter died, how the other raiders are, and then pour their heart out to let him know how they feel. To be fair, he signed up for this, when he helped creating the council. But then again, at first he never thought they would last. "The funeral will be held tomorrow."

[loosinglights]

@monochrcmes ; goose creek

Furrows of sorrow speckle Matty's forehead, when approaches the burning light he can see from afar. Glimpses of blonde hair reassure him in his mission, and when he surpasses the wooden door, his bottom lip starts quivering. A sight, soon distinguished, and replaced with the weakest smile he can muster up. "Still around, this late at night?" In between countless of council meetings and answering questions that scared inhabitants of the safe zone throw at his face every chance he gets, there has barely been a chance to realize that Carter Abioye -- just Carter, to him -- his good friend, has died. Ever since the outbreak, his life has been full of losses. And this one has him dropping onto a ball of hay beneath one of the horse boxes, with his gaze sternly facing the one opposite of him.

"I miss my wife." Matty is not entirely sure how many survivors even know that there ever was a wife. That he devoted the first half of his life to one person entirely, and that there was nothing, or no one else to really tell. "When we were your age, I was already starting my residency. And she started asking me about kids, you know? And I kept saying that there was plenty of time left, and that we'd have kids in our thirties, when I was finally making the big bucks in some renowned hospital." Matty lifts his head, and looks at Olivia, "But we lived in Cleveland, you know?"

[loosinglights]

BURNING THROUGH MY THEIR SYSTEM;

** NO RESCUE FOR THE WICKED ** ( gabriel luna / forty-two / cis-male / he/him ) can i still trust my eyes after all this time or am i hallucinating the appearance of MATTEO DÍAZ in front of the blackridge safe zone gates? perhaps the council allowed them to stay because of ABILITY TO PERFORM EMERGENCY SURGERIES WITH LITTLE RESOURCES – though they should be careful that their ANGER ISSUES do not get them kicked out sooner or later. have you heard them share over a campfire that THE LOVE OF HIS LIFE is what they have missed the most ever since the apocalypse started? well, i definitely heard that WORKING IN HOSPITALS is what they miss the least. if you can’t find them, they’re likely busy with PATCHING UP PATIENTS AS THE RESIDENTIAL EMERGENCY SURGEON. they may BE AN ORIGINAL SURVIVOR, but can they survive another night? ** lovingly coddled and emotionally destroyed by jean

PUBLIC KNOWLEDGE, PUBLIC LIES?

burned out emergency surgeon. struggled all the way through middle school, and became an absolute nerd in high school. has a tremor in his right hand due to an old injury, that had originally cost him his glowing career right before the outbreak. anger issues.

ANGER ASCENDING;

tw; loss of a partner, car crash, survivor's guilt, grief

The news Matteo is holding trapped inside of his brain the moment his wife comes rushing out of their house, are bad. Luckily for him, his wife has even worse news. Cleveland, Ohio, appears to be the worst city to live in. His mother's words are ringing in his ears once more: Why did you leave Texas, son? He would always give the same, monotone answer: Because my wife wanted to. She had wanted to escape her hometown just a year ago, and Matteo had dealt with leaving his family and best friends behind, just for her sake. He had scored his dream job, and like a bad liar, had blamed it all on his wife. With her agreement, of course. In fact, it had been her idea. Let me be the bad guy. Turns out, she was never the bad guy. He was at fault - and he was the one being laid off before the beginning of what turned out to be the worst catastrophe of his life.

They don't know what's happening. We have to try and make it to Texas.

But they don't make it to Texas. Their car is totaled, and a complete stranger pulls Matteo away from his fatally injured wife. He screams after her for his life - begs for her to wake up, even when he cannot see her anymore. Texas is too far away. He ends up in Missouri for a month, then in Kansas, and when all roads are blocked, he runs into a group in Colorado. They grow, and fluctuate. They catch him like a cushion, needing his abilities, helped him heal the injury of his shoulder, that never left his right hand without a twitch. In 2033, they end up in Blackridge, Wyoming. A town left behind in a better state than they could have ever dreamt of, and when all trace of the infected are gone, they build a safe zone. One that runs on their rules, and their lost dreams. Matteo is praying. That somewhere, someone has rescued his wife when he was not able to. That somewhere, she is still alive, looking for him.

Some days, he is sitting in the radio station, trying to reach other safe zones, reminiscing about his life before the outbreak - the hard few years he had in middle school, before he became a reclusive nerd in Highschool, crushing on his future wife in secret, not knowing she felt the same way. Being absolutely tormented in medical school. Becoming a doctor, marrying, watching his family grow up, and loosing it all within seconds.

But maybe in Blackridge, there is some hope left.