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Sunny

Everything in just one bag...

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Sunny    0

[[Just felt like writing a bit. Hope it isn’t too dull. Recently applied and this seems like an awesome community. Hope to get in soon! Oh, and also! Always looking for Rp contacts! Please, please, send me a message.]]

Quinn had always considered herself a morning person. That was how her nickname 'Sunny' had started anyways. Some quip made by her younger brother and it stuck. It wasn’t that she got more rest, or enjoyed mornings more than anyone else. It wasn’t even that she was a breakfast person… No. Quinn simply always had thought there was something to look forward to in a new day. Now, she wasn’t so certain. It was far easier to wake up thinking ‘It is going to be a long and shitty day. If I make it that long’.

It had only been a few weeks from the start of this mess, and she was already forgetting what it was like to live in a society. At first it had been easy to inwardly make jokes, at one point she even considered it some sort of regional joke; an annual event, not unlike the War of the Worlds broadcast in 1938 that had everyone believing aliens were upon them. She knew it wasn’t fake now…

Her eyes drifted to the tattered straights of her jeans where someon-… no, something… had clawed a hole in them. That was a close one yesterday. Now it was dawn, and she could scarcely motivate herself to get out of whoever’s bed this had been once. They were gone now, probably dead. She hated being grim though, and cast those thoughts aside for now. Better to put energy toward being alert rather than being a pessimist.

With some effort on the part of her arms and legs she urged her tired muscles to bring her out of bed and to her feet. A pack sat nearby. In it were all of her belongings. No matter how trivial the things in the backpack had once been, they were worth more than gold to her now. A flashlight she had yanked off some keychain or another, a map she acquired upon first arriving to Chernarus some months ago as an eager tourist, some canned goods, and a water bottle. That was it. That was her entire life in one bag. Oh yes, who could forget the ice pick that had saved her life a few times now. Philosophy student Quinn Dallas, swinging ice picks into Rotter heads...

It was a fortunate thing indeed she had found that ice pick. It had only managed to rid her of a couple of the Rotties, but that was enough to keep her alive. Quinn wasn’t cut out for this, not at all. As meek and gentle as she was, this sort of life probably going to see her broken or dead before too long. Not two days prior she had seen a man robbed in the streets, masked individuals trying to take all he owned. Probably a backpack just like her own… They shot him. He wouldn’t give it to him, and they shot him.

“I am sorry I didn’t help you.”

She could hear the raspy snarl of one of the Rotties outside. Quinn was already fair skinned, but the sound made her turn ghost white. Her long platinum hair shaded her cerulean eyes from view with her head hanging a bit, as if there was anyone around to see her cry.

“I am sorry. I just didn’t want to die too…”

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