nolanfrazier-blog

[nolanfrazier-blog]

                 「  ─  Can you be immortalized without your life being expired?                          Even though you share the same blood is it worth the time?

                                                                                task 03. the playlist -- listen. 

[nolanfrazier-blog]

“Of course! I have meeting all over the day. What are we going to do with this? When are we going to do this? What buildings have the best supplies? The worst customer care?” Nolan let out the remainders of a laugh. “It’s exhausting. I have to be on my best behavior, both mentally and physically, to take down that 8-pointer. It’s going to put up a fight.”

“Awesome. A schedule? So you have important plans in the apocalypse?” Wyn teased and nodded. “Absolutely, especially if we find the 8-pointer.”

[nolanfrazier-blog]

Nolan reached over and shook her hand, his grip firm. “When are we doing this? I need to clear my schedule.” What schedule? “Tide’s going to be eating good because of us.”

Wynona let out a sigh of relief. She felt fairly guilty, but she couldn’t trust anyone with the bow except herself. She looked back up at him, smiling. “That sounds like a deal,” The blonde nodded and extended her hand for him to shake.

[nolanfrazier-blog]

“Moody today?” Nolan’s hand raised up and he began counting his fingers. 2. “That’s no way to greet people.” 8. “Or should we all grovel at your feet and follow your every command, until you decide you’re ready for human interaction?” 29. “Whoops, that was twenty-nine words. Do I keep going, or should I stop?” Nolan didn’t make it a habit to stop and talk to others on his way back, but -- man, what an asshole. Nolan’s lips curled into a smirk.

“Look, I just got done with a run. Whatever you’re about to say better be within the minimum of 15 words.”

[nolanfrazier-blog]

Nolan laughed. “Must be your brain chemistry. They’re hunting after it, apparently,” he joked, his eyes moving down to observe the fallen walkers. “You don’t have a weapon with you?”

Wiping a smear of blood away that had splattered on her face, Kassie let out a sigh of relief. She would be in a lot of trouble if it weren’t for this stranger. As much as she hated being the damsel in distress, she had to admit the help was needed. “Thanks for the help,” she said with a genuine smile, as she took the male’s hand and got to her feet. “Eh, what can I say? The undead find me irresistible.”

[nolanfrazier-blog]

Nolan raised his palms in defeat, quirking a brow. “’S alright, Wy.” He didn’t know the hunter very well, only seeing her from afar during dinnertime or with other mutual associates, so Nolan couldn’t have possibly known that this was how she’d react. “I’ll bring my bow one day and maybe you can teach me how to hunt -- and we’ll find that 8-point one day. Before the zombies eat it up.”

Wynona swallowed, looking down at his hand approaching her bow. “I’m sorry, no one touches the bow except me,” She sighs, remembering the day that her dad gifted her the bow. 

[nolanfrazier-blog]

A smile lifted his lips. “Even better -- I love being bored to death. Is it just going to be connecting your group, or do you have plans for region-wide communication? That’s pretty big -- I’m surprised you came here alone for something that important. Maybe it’ll even dispel some of the hostilities between Tide and the Reapers, but that’s a little too idealistic.” He shrugged. “No, just a few sticks. Some bandages. Nothing big enough to power a working communications system,” he teased. If he wanted to get along with the other, Nolan knew he needed to get rid of any tension that surrounded them.

“Yeah well, I’m working on something along the lines of a working communications system. I don’t want to get too into it. Wouldn’t want to bore you half to death. Once you get me talking it’s hard to get me to shut up.” He shrugged, sensing the other was just as wary as he was about him. “What about you, find anythin’ good in this area?”

[nolanfrazier-blog]

"Us, too. You with the Reapers?” He questioned. Nolan had a whole list of what he needed to bring back, but wasn’t willing to share that with the girl. Maybe he was just in a cranky mood -- he can’t exactly claim he’s been benign to Courtney since meeting her. Nolan’ll warm up eventually. The runner walked to where the usual medicine and housekeeping items were, towards the far end of where they entered. The stench was something he needed to grow used to, his nose crinkling in disgust. He was on high alert, looking for any potential dangers, his finger locked on the trigger. “See anything?”

Moving inside with him, she started to look around for anything living, or any sign of anything useful. She was thankful when she couldn’t see anything undead, however the smell in the place caused her stomach to turn. “Anything helpful hoping to further our supply of antibiotics and get more food, what about you?”

[nolanfrazier-blog]

His reaction was quick. As soon as the other lifted from the ground and the walkers broke through, his gun began firing. It was a good thing he had decided to bring this weapon and not his other favorite, a cheap and rusty hatchet. If it were out, he’s sure the sun would be shining for him. After a few rounds, Nolan could hear the ringing in his ears and couldn’t see anymore walkers trailing after the other. “Got them,” he said, reaching out and offering his hand to pick her up from the floor. “Popular with the zombies? Not the best people to hang around with.”

Kassie looked up as he cocked his gun in the direction of her and the door. She nodded her head, as a sign she’d registered his plan. “Ready?” she queried, her voice wavering ever so slightly. She hadn’t dealt with this many zombies at once before, and as scared as she was, she also felt exhilarated. As quickly as she could, Kassie lunged forward from her position on the floor towards the feet of the male, letting go of her grip on the door and giving the zombies free entry into the house.

[nolanfrazier-blog]

He guffawed. “Can’t win them all, I’m afraid.” Nolan stepped closer to her, putting out his hand as if asking to see her bow. “You should’ve asked me to come with you. Not trying to brag or anything, but I’m a great shot. We probably could have been roasting that thing at camp by now.” He grinned. 

“Shut up,” She joked with the man. Wynona hasn’t ever had an involved conversation with Nolan, but she was willing to give him a shot. “I literally just lost an 8-point buck, cut me some slack,” She raises to her her, giving him a michevious smirk.

[nolanfrazier-blog]

“Okay,” he agreed. He readied his weapon and entered the building with Courtney. He observed their surroundings for a minute, checking to see anything that didn’t fall into place. The supermarket was deserted, with not a single person roaming the aisles. It also seemed to be deserved of anything useful. Walking a little bit further into the room, he turned towards the girl. “Did you come for anything specific?”

Pulling a smile, she shrugged her shoulders. “Why not go in at the same time? I mean at least then we’ve both got back up. That would be better, wouldn’t it?” She asked looking away from the guy, toward the building, then back to him. “You in?”

[nolanfrazier-blog]

“Uh. No, we don’t.” He didn’t know how to phrase it. “I -- she’s never been a sister to me and pretty much turned everyone against me since birth. I’m pretty sure that she would have left me to die if I wasn’t her only hope of survival.” Okay, he laid it on thick, he could admit to that; but Helena doesn’t stand a chance without him, he’s confident about that.

“Do you not get along then?” Alaska was curious. She had heard of people not getting along with their siblings. She never had any so she never knew how terrible they could be, but she had always wanted one or two.

[nolanfrazier-blog]

”Really specific,” He commented, a lazy grin covering his features. “What kind of project?” Nolan was skeptic of the new face, and he had all the reason to be. Without a name to put on him, Nolan was sure the other man wasn’t from Crimson Tide. “Probably not worth the bruises, though,” he joked, keeping his tone light-hearted. “Nothing ever is anymore, right?”

“A few extra parts for a project I’m working on,” Grant said, shrugging slightly. His description was rather vague. But then again…who could really blame the guy? He’d just lost over half the parts he’d come out here for. But the day wasn’t totally lost. He was willing to work with what he had. “We’ll see whether or not it was worth the bruises once I’m done.”

[nolanfrazier-blog]

What the fuck is up with you and your sister?

“A game of monopoly that went too far. She stole half my hotels and fucked me over.”

[nolanfrazier-blog]

out of everyone you've met so far, who are your favourites and why?

“Are we stuck in high school? Still playing class favorites?” He paused. “Favorite: Hard to choose when I’m an option. Least favorite? Evan, but I’m working on it. We can’t win them all.”

[nolanfrazier-blog]

poetic justice. first prompt.

TW: death (parental), murder, violence, weapon (blade), hints of neglect.

this was surreal. this was what he had wanted so long ago, back when he was twelve and shipped off to boarding school. this was what he had wanted so long ago, praying to a deity he didn’t believe in. his words and his breath were stuck in his throat; he’s not sure how to react. his sister was still with him, alive and as uncooperative as always. his parents...were not. his parents...were in front of him? his parent. singular. the corpse of his mother was in front of him, her face different from the last time he had seen her. when was the last time he spared his mother a glance? months. years? no, it wasn’t that bad. months. it had been months - she called him to check up on his progress in school, and he thought to himself: “now she cares?” he was bitter and she could tell from his voice. did she say anything? 

no.

the thing looking at him right now wasn’t his mother. his mother was pristine, clean, orderly. her jewels always shined and her hair always in place. her smile was like a small cuts against his skin; now? her mouth sat half-open and half-closed. this was...surreal. her eyes were no longer the brown she had been born with. they were green, blue, yellow? he couldn’t tell. it was something inhuman. her face was now rotting into a murky gray, looking like a floor once residue has dried to its surface. her teeth were now jagged, yellow, and rotting. her nose was now different. her walk, once so tall and proud, was now slouched and slow. 

“hi.” his voice is rough; it’s seen better days, ones that were well fed and not hanging onto the last bits of water. ones that were privileged. it’s soft. he doesnt want to attract the attention of other walkers. his mother’s head snapped back to him, his eyes zeroing in on him. this was it. the moment he had eagerly waited for. it was coming and it was going to be his. he could see her brains splattered on the floor of the field, her daughter coming back and rushing to help her. he could see retribution. but -- 

that was a fantasy. not a reality, not until now. not until she’s coming towards him and his weapon is raised, the blade shining in the pale sunlight. nolan’s not sure what to do; he’s running on autopilot. this is a new world. different. he’s not the same person he was before -- if he’s going to survive, he can’t let emotions sway him. if he was going to make it until next month, he had to slash and kill anything in front of him. even if it was blood that connected them. even if she was the one who had been kind to him during the first years of his life. this is a game of family feud that has gone for too long. 

his weapon strikes and he’s sure he’s never going to forget the sound it makes. the blade connecting itself to the skin, the bone, the muscle. it’s sickening - haunting. he keeps swinging. nolan can’t stop. how will he clear this transgression from his mind and soul a few weeks down the line? nolan is usually one who plans ahead of time, but not now. he tries to comfort himself once he’s sure the walker is dead -- he had no choice, it was either she died or he died (she, being dead, and he, being alive; she, being the past, and he, being the present and future). he had no choice but to leave her there, his mind frazzled and confused, and leave the responsibility to someone else. he had no choice but to keep his mouth shut as he reunited with his sister, her mocking his fruitless mission for supplies to keep them going; his lips were sown shut once he joined crimson tide. if they knew that his mother’s blood was coating his hands, soon it will be his blood that coats the hands of another (his sister, probably. selfish bitch).

he still hears the impact of the blade and the corpse in his dreams. it gnashes at his brain; he doesn’t feel guilt, but doesn’t feel another emotion either. not the joy he thought he would feel, or the sadness that might have followed. he just felt empty. unsatisfied. was he supposed to cry like others have during this ride? that was a waste of what little resources were still hidden in his body, hesitant to leave. things happen, people die. a mantra he repeats to himself. he doesn’t feel guilt. another mantra. he shouldn’t. another. 

he’s next. a prediction.