[ death isn't what paul had expected. he'd known it was coming as soon as the crushing shredding rip of teeth had snagged his arm too high up to chop off soon enough to save him. he'd let out a rough and ragged laugh and jammed the ratchet he'd been using through the softening skull of the walker that'd done it. everything hurt like hell already but if he could just get the damn bike fixed before he died at least he could save daryl.
except saving daryl fell to the wayside when he realized he wasn't the only one bit. oh. so taking out the last ones left had become priority so that no one looking for them would come upon a horde of zombies (it'd be fine if it were someone from sanctuary, but if someone from alexandria or hilltop came around, well... no, they couldn't let that happen. finally it'd just been them, panting and feverish and pained and nauseated, burning up with fever and thirst and feeling like death and knowing the end was coming and paul had dropped down to the asphalt, tugging daryl down with him. or maybe it'd been the other way around. it didn't matter.
we have to figure out how to put each other down, he'd said, ragged. they both knew it was coming and it wasn't time to moan and cry, it was time to protect their loved ones--unless we want to get back as close to sanctuary as we can before we kick the bucket.
but that wasn't desirable either. no matter how it'd ended (it doesn't matter any more) waking up in an apartment building is not what he'd expected. instead of doing what he's supposed to he starts to tear down the halls, looking. he can't be the only one of them, right? what the hell is this? he needs to find-- ] Daryl? Daryl?
[ it's almost like he's hyperfocused. feel free to stop him and get him to focus on something else, steer him downstairs - or, you know, be daryl and give him something at least marginally familiar. ]
exploring
[ paul is, to put it lightly, made to go on runs. he's good in rural areas but he's even better in cities, and if you're paired up with him for a run you'll find out why. he's a runner and a climber, dragging himself easily up ladders and walls and climbing through windows to hand things out and literally existing as that movie trope of a guy that can hop from roof to roof. he's friendly too, calm and collected and smiling gently. even if he calls the zombies anything but and just looks kind of confused by the z word, he appears to be really used to the concept as a whole.
in any case if you want a fun, fast-paced run that's almost sure to get results or be hilariously yakety sax trying, paul is a great partner to have. ]
network
how the hell did anyone manage to get something like this up? all our satellites and towers are completely down even with solar panels. we're lucky to have batteries for walkies any more.
paul (jesus) rovia. the walking dead.
[ death isn't what paul had expected. he'd known it was coming as soon as the crushing shredding rip of teeth had snagged his arm too high up to chop off soon enough to save him. he'd let out a rough and ragged laugh and jammed the ratchet he'd been using through the softening skull of the walker that'd done it. everything hurt like hell already but if he could just get the damn bike fixed before he died at least he could save daryl.
except saving daryl fell to the wayside when he realized he wasn't the only one bit. oh. so taking out the last ones left had become priority so that no one looking for them would come upon a horde of zombies (it'd be fine if it were someone from sanctuary, but if someone from alexandria or hilltop came around, well... no, they couldn't let that happen. finally it'd just been them, panting and feverish and pained and nauseated, burning up with fever and thirst and feeling like death and knowing the end was coming and paul had dropped down to the asphalt, tugging daryl down with him. or maybe it'd been the other way around. it didn't matter.
we have to figure out how to put each other down, he'd said, ragged. they both knew it was coming and it wasn't time to moan and cry, it was time to protect their loved ones--unless we want to get back as close to sanctuary as we can before we kick the bucket.
but that wasn't desirable either. no matter how it'd ended (it doesn't matter any more) waking up in an apartment building is not what he'd expected. instead of doing what he's supposed to he starts to tear down the halls, looking. he can't be the only one of them, right? what the hell is this? he needs to find-- ] Daryl? Daryl?
[ it's almost like he's hyperfocused. feel free to stop him and get him to focus on something else, steer him downstairs - or, you know, be daryl and give him something at least marginally familiar. ]
exploring
[ paul is, to put it lightly, made to go on runs. he's good in rural areas but he's even better in cities, and if you're paired up with him for a run you'll find out why. he's a runner and a climber, dragging himself easily up ladders and walls and climbing through windows to hand things out and literally existing as that movie trope of a guy that can hop from roof to roof. he's friendly too, calm and collected and smiling gently. even if he calls the zombies anything but and just looks kind of confused by the z word, he appears to be really used to the concept as a whole.
in any case if you want a fun, fast-paced run that's almost sure to get results or be hilariously yakety sax trying, paul is a great partner to have. ]
network
how the hell did anyone manage to get something like this up? all our satellites and towers are completely down even with solar panels. we're lucky to have batteries for walkies any more.