Path of the Vampire forum

Title: Iced Clash
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Characters: Clover, Kyrie

Clover must post first, outlining a story on the following theme (feel free to get creative):

Setting: A frosty part of the quarentine zone
Backstory: The group crossed paths after approaching the scene of a disturbance (some or all characters).
Occurance: government agents attack.
Variable: You feel something is amiss.

Participants: 2
ARES: yes
Speed: slow
Chapter: no
Minimum Words Per Post: 100
Maximum Words Per Post: none

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This thread was generated via the Roleplay Matchmaking System.

Clover woke up in the sewer again, and while she knew why, she refused to waste time unpacking her baggage, analyzing her reasons, going through multiple scenarios. Her wraith, Junebug, still lacked a grasp of English, or any language for that matter, so he couldn't explain how she managed to go from her apartment in Circle to the western sewers. She always woke up in new clothes, still smelling of body spray and the lingering scent of her shampoo. There was a real possibility that she had a split personality, the first place her mind went to for reasons, but she had no reason for that kind of instability, so she shelved that idea. That night, she'd worn clothes that she didn't remember owning, but she shook her head, shoving that line of thought aside in favor of focusing on her journey through the sewers. She knew the way, for the most part, but it had been a while since she traversed the western sewers. Still, she felt as if she were home there, memories playing over and over like a movie on repeat. Somewhere ahead, June started clicking, helping her find the way when she reached a fork in the tunnels.

Wearing taupe, suede boots and a blush-colored blazer layered over a white shirt, she avoided as many disgusting puddles as possible to try and keep herself looking as clean as possible. She walked around the water dripping from the ceiling of the sewer and took hurried steps to keep closer to the clicking. The sewers were a little chilly, so she knew that it was an unusually cool night. Even though daytime highs were in the fifties, the nights were in the low to mid thirties. There was no way to tell the time, but passing sewer exits, she caught brief glimpses of the dark sky. When Junebug stopped clicking, she knew that her wraith had found an exit or retreated to her side. She'd never been able to see him, so she had to assume he was there with her, allowing her to take the lead to the closest ladder leading to the surface. They had been walking for quite some time, Clo content to trust her wraith, so when she emerged from the sewer and took a look around, she sighed. June had led her right to the quarantine zone, her old stomping ground. She hadn't visited in a while, not since the zombies had spread from the zone, not since soldiers took to watching the place. She wasn't dressed for a fight, but she decided she didn't really care anymore. She felt like shooting something and a zombie worked just fine.

Just as she'd thought, the air was chilly, so chilly that frost had formed on the ground, the stiff, green blades crunching under her feet. It was late, but she didn't have an exact time. Overhead, the skies were clear, perfect for frost conditions. She planned on going to Corvidae Flats, but she heard quick footsteps and shouts, followed by the sound of breaking glass. Something told her to mind her own business, so she continued on her way, until she heard walkie static and someone reporting that they'd located the target and needed urgent backup. She heard a few choked screams, then the walkie static again, someone repeatedly calling for someone named Johnson.

"Mind your own business, Clo. Humans shouldn't be here anyway. It's on them." She heard someone begging for help, so she closed her eyes, removed her gun from her waist, and went to investigate. She traced the sound to the supermarket. The front window had been broken, a corpse half inside, half outside of the store, body impaled on the broken glass. Clo grabbed a handful of the agent's hair and pulled on the head, lifting it enough to see that the man's face was nothing but a bloody mess. She brushed a thumb over the mess and licked her thumb clean, smacking her lips once. "Not bad, Mr. Agent," Clo smirked, releasing her hold on the head. She found his badge in his right front pocket and kept it for herself, easily slipping it into her own front pocket of her grey skinny jeans. Clo stood there and stared into the abandoned store, contemplating her next move.