Weak Arrows, (open)

[Venus]

"Damnit!"

Her frustration getting the better of her, the woman who went by Venus swung her arm, hurling the two broken pieces of the arrow she'd been holding to the ground. She'd spent hours whittling and heating the arrows into perfectly straight, round, and smooth shafts, so to have one break was annoying as hell.

But more importantly, the fact that it had broken meant that all the arrows that had been made from the same wood were just as weak. Hopefully it was one she'd collected from the stock she'd found on some poor dead bastard along the way, and not one she'd made herself - she checked the wood before she ever started making arrows from it, but wood wasn't evenly strong throughout.

So now she had to test every shittin' arrow she'd made that day. She was not happy with herself.

She peered at her thumb, where several slivers of wood protruded from her skin, tiny dots of blood forming on the surface. Her glare worsening, she clenched the pocket knife she'd been holding between her teeth and rifled through her small pack for tweezers. She was silent as she pulled the bits of wood from her skin.

Snapping her pocket knife shut and dropping it, along with the tweezers, into her bra, she stood. She pulled on the arms of her leather jacket, which she had tied around her waist, and it fell to the concrete of the steps. She left her stuff laid out neatly on the steps and picked up her crossbow, which had been sitting faithfully beside her leg. She grabbed her leather quiver and slung it into place across her back, and headed out into the open grass, her expression still stormy.

[Armel Clark]

Armel had been strolling the grounds that day. The Nomads had recently arrived at St. Mary’s and seeing how it was still early afternoon he figured most would be in their beds or crawling through the kitchens. Opting for a less populated place the doctor had gone outside, besides it was a beautiful day.

The doctor was dressed in nothing but a pair of worn cargo pants held up by a leather belt. His feet and chest were bare, his lean body and inked arms and chest showing in the sun. Oddly though, he was reading. It was one of ‘Green Thumb’s’ books on natural medicine, and actually more interesting then he had first felt. He had been reading it a good hour now when suddenly he was stabbed.

“Oww!” Dropping his book the man jumped back. Looking down he saw he had stepped on a broken twig, no, not a twig, an arrow. “What the hell?” Scratching his head he leaned down to pick the thing up. No need to have anyone else get hurt by the thing.

[Venus]

V had been pulling arrows from a board of wood she'd propped up in a low tree branch when she heard the cry of mild pain. She pulled the last arrow from the board and moved around the tree trunk. She saw Armel looking at the broken arrow she'd tossed aside.

"You can toss that on the stairs with my stuff," she said, squinting in the sunlight and pointing to the neatly laid out shafts of wood and supplies on the steps. "Sorry; didn't think anyone would be walking around barefoot." Her apology was only secondary in emphasis to the fact that he was walking barefoot. How anyone was going to run from zombies with bare feet was beyond her. Then again, he didn't look stupid. He was most likely armed.

"Weak wood. Luckily, it's the only one," she said as she swung her quiver over her shoulder and slid the arrows into it before slinging it on her back again.

[Armel Clark]

Armel laughed. “Glad to hear it.” He bent down and picked up the second half of arrow as well as his book. Calling over his shoulder, he made his way to the stairs. “I didn’t know Nomads could see the morning sun. How are you not as hung over as the rest of your pack?”

Reaching the stairs the boy from the Big Easy inspected the girls work. He didn’t know why, hell he had never shot a bow in his life, but he was always willing to learn something new. “If you don’t mind me asking, why are you so focused on survival still? Your safe here, I’d figure you’d take the chance to catch your breath.”

[Venus]

“I didn’t know Nomads could see the morning son. How are you not as hung over as the rest of your pack?”

Venus laughed a short laugh, nodding in recognition to the fact that most of the Nomads were drunk more often than not. "In my line of work, one of us has to keep a clear mind; and it's never them," she said, not explaining her line of work, but not hiding it either. "Besides, I didn't like alcohol back when you just had to worry about some asshole taking advantage of you. Now that you gotta worry about some zombie bastard ripping into you...I rarely drink." She finished dryly, coming to a stop by the stairs and taking off her quiver, setting it against the steps.

“If you don’t mind me asking, why are you so focused on survival still? Your safe here, I’d figure you’d take the chance to catch your breath.”

Venus straightened again, her hands placing on her hips as she turned her head and looked appraisingly to Armel. She was quiet for a few moments before she spoke, carefully neutral. "This place ain't immortal. All it'll take is one turned dog wanderin' through the gates, and St. Mary's would be shit outta luck."

"It's more safe than most places, but it ain't no little piece of heaven."

V sat on the stairs, fanning herself from the hot rays of the sun beating down from the sky. "And besides, even if it was...I haven't called a place home since I was fourteen. I don't think it's in my blood anymore."

[Armel Clark]

If Armel understood the woman’s hints at her profession, he didn’t show it. Sitting on the handrail of the staircase the doctor dog-eared his book and set it aside before turning to the back to his companion. “I never said this was your home, and I wouldn’t expect you to think of it that way I get you being on edge though, but just look at the gate.” He indicated to heavy gate to the grounds which was currently locked tight, not six inches between the bars. “You’re safe here, hard as it is to believe. I’ve been here as long as they’ve been out there and not one has gotten in yet. Something tells me today isn’t their lucky day either.

The Bayou boy reached into his pocket and withdrew a corked bottle of greenish blue glass. He held it out to the girl. “Here, drink this. It’s hot and you look like you may need it soon.”

[Venus]

V realized how dry her throat was as he pulled out the bottle and offered it. She took the bottle from him, nodding gratefully, and opened the top. She took a long drink before righting the bottle again, and swallowed the cool liquid. Only when she was finished and her tongue had licked her lips did she speak.

"People who live in colonies like this...they get attached," she said simply, seeming to be stating the obvious before she explained. "I spent some time in a place in Illinois, a suburb of Chicago called Deerfield. They'd turned this big mall type place into a fort; kind of like this place except less secure."

V took another drink from the bottle before returning it to Armel. The back of her hand wiped her forehead along her hairline. As she continued, she pulled her tanktop off over her head. Which left her in leather pants and a black bra. She didn't seem to think anything of showing her lingerie to someone she barely knew.

"Something happened...I don't know exactly what; I kept outta shit like that - but this woman's husband got in a fight with One Of 'Em and apparently some other dude was there but didn't help fight the zombie off. Ended up waiting till the guy was fucked over and then killed them both. Who knows if he did it on purpose or not, but the guy's wife sure thought he did." V placed her hands on her bare hips, taking a deep breath in the heat of the sun.

"Who knows how she got it - maybe she went back to her husband's corpse - but the bitch stirred some zombie spit or blood or something into the guy's dinner. When he started goin' crazy..." V stared at a spot on the steps before her as she continued, her voice dark but otherwise carefully neutral. "I was the closest one with a weapon, so I had to put him out of it. I wasn't going to do anything else - I'm not God, y'know, it's not my place to pass judgement on other people, but somebody else killed the widow."

Her eyes flicked up to meet Armel's, as if snapping a bit from the sick enchantment of the story and, for her, its memories. "Look, it's a nice place you've got going here. And I hope it lasts, I really do. If we ever start to get this world under control again, it'll come from places like this. But if I ever settled here, and then it went to hell too...You can only lose a home so many times, Gumbo."

The nickname at the end, though it may have seemed slightly out of place, was somehow appropriate coming from a young woman with a trace of the same accent the man had.

[Armel Clark]

Armel listened to the grim story with his default calm visage. Everyone had witnessed horrors over the past decade, some had committed them and some had simply looked on. That didn’t forgive them for what they were, yet after you witnessed enough gore, it just became part of the routine. In this way the doctor was untouched by the story she told, it was bad, but what wasn’t?

“That’s a sad tale, but it is sadly the way of life today. For that to happen here though one of those creatures would have to enter, and the gates still hold. Besides, nothing ill can happen unless the Lwa allow it.” He smiled warmly, the curve of his lips fitting his face perfectly. “Any good Cajun girl should know that.”

He accepted the bottle back and took a drink himself. Re-corking the thing he set it in the shade of the steps. “You should get out of the heat. Come on, let’s go sit inside. “He stood and picked up his book and bottle, offering the sitting woman his hand.

[Venus]

"Besides, nothing ill can happen unless the Lwa allow it. Any good Cajun girl should know that.”

The statement brought a smile to V's face. The story was just one of many she could tell, and so she had become somewhat desensitized to the horros and was able to smile even after reliving the memories. There was a melancholy aspect to her smile, though.

"The Lwa - or any higher powers, if there are any left who care, have let a hell of a lot happen," she said as she began to pick up arrows in handfuls and place them in her quiver. Her faith in religion in general had been shaken over the years. She still believed that the Lord was watching over them, and that the whole hellof the world was just some sort of trial; a test. But the fact that the Good Lord was allowing such atrocities occur had given her an unexpecting attitude towards religious beliefs. She didn't expect any happy graces from the Lord; so she'd be better off to focus on fending for herself than praying day in and day out for the Lord's mercy on her. What would the Lord's mercy mean when the undead had none, anyway?

She took his hand when he offered it and stood. Normally she might have declined the aid, but she liked Armel. He reminded her of New Orleans. She lifted her quiver over her head to rest the strap on her shoulder, then picked up her bow. She shifted it and held it down at her side with an ease as though she had held it countless times.

As they walked up the steps, V glanced to to Armel. "I'm makin' bayou beans 'n' rice for dinner, if you want to join us." The St. Mary's folks tended to keep themselves separate from the Nomads; they rarely ate together. But sometimes a few would join them every now and then. Armel seemed to be one of those friendly few, V didn't know, but she did know that she hadn't met a New Orleans man yet who could turn down red beans and rice.

[Armel Clark]

Armel helped the girl up and chuckled softly; unlike the girl’s his smiled seemed as genuine as the sun that bore down on the dry earth. He slipped the bottle into one of his cargo pockets as the two ascended the steps.

“See, that’s where the Lwa differ from gods. They aren’t omni-powerful and can’t save us from the world. It’s up to us to know when we should call on them, and then which one currently can influence us the most. Think of them like Patron Saints if that helps.”

As the two reached the door the doctor opened it, walking through first and then keeping it propped for the girl. Turning back after she entered his smiled had changed from warm to relaxed. “And thank you for the offer, but I don’t have much of an appetite at the moment. If you’d save me some though I’d be grateful.”

[Venus]

"I'll keep that in mind," 'Venus' said in response to his short lesson on the Lwa. "And I'll be sure to save you some," she added, referring to the meal she planned to make. Now that some of the food, however small a portion, was going to a St. Mary's resident, she didn't feel so bad taking the supplies for the meal from St. Mary's storeroom.

She hadn't felt very bad to begin with. They had plenty.

"Well, it's nice to hear a Cajun voice every now and then," she said with a nod, one hand wiping the sweat from her brow. "How long has it been since you visited home?"