burntvideocassette: (camera in mirror)
Jay Merrick ([personal profile] burntvideocassette) wrote in [community profile] entranceway2017-07-16 01:21 am

[Video] Entry #2 - Event Day 3

[The camera's pointed at Jay's shoes. Wherever he is, it's carpeted, and it's at least somewhat well-lit. When he finally speaks, it's at a whisper and oddly flat.]

If anyone was thinking about using the last house on...Lakeview Drive for shelter...

[A gas can swings into view, and a narrow stream of gasoline leaks from the spout onto the carpet. The camera tilts for a second, revealing a well-furnished suburban bedroom with lazy gasoline loops painted across both the floor and the bed.]

...Don't.

[Jay starts down the stairs, trailing fuel behind him.]

Don't get anywhere near this place. If you're looking for me, [He tries and fails to suppress a cough. The fumes must be getting to him.] I won't be around either.

[He's in the living room now. Jay pans the camera across the room--couches, coffee table, TV, stereo--before dribbling the last of the gasoline across the floor and up to an open window. He tosses the can aside.]

Last warning.

[Jay reaches up to the inactive stereo, twisting the volume dial as low as it can go. Hand visibly trembling, he switches it on. Nothing. Good. He switches the input to "radio". His breathing is audible now, high and ragged.

He twists the volume knob, and the speakers come to life with the deafening roar of...well, you win some, you lose some.

Jay bolts from the house, leaving the front door hanging open.

There's chaos for a moment, leaves hit the camera lens, and then Jay's looking down from a reasonably sized oak tree. A corpse shambles into view, heading straight for the house. Jay cuts the feed.]


[OOC: Jay has just attempted to create walker-bait out of the last house at the end of a dead-end street. Very loud, very flammable walker-bait. He's stolen Tim's lighter, and he's planning to shut the front door and light the place up through the window once enough bodies find their way inside.

Feel free to use this post to yell at him/cheer him on/try to stop him/try to help him.]
shorthair: ignore everybody else (so show me why you're strong)

[personal profile] shorthair 2017-07-19 04:31 am (UTC)(link)
Clementine shakes her head slightly in confusion. They really don't look good. She doesn't know that they'll make it to the safe house, but it's empty enough on the street that they should be good if they just get off the street.

"Is it far? You might want to hole up in one of these houses if it is. It'll be safe enough if you stay inside."

If there are no windows broken and no open doors, there's no way a walker could have gotten inside of it.

Walkers don't know how to use handles.
postictal: (dirty dirty unwashed hair)

[personal profile] postictal 2017-07-19 05:12 am (UTC)(link)
He has a lighter. Tim's lighter. It takes him a long moment for his gaze to properly settle upon in, a glint of silver in the weak light. It's...fuck. It's hard to see, harder still to focus.

But he manages to wrap fingertips around the familiar shape, gripping tight in his palm.

"We'll...we can take one of the other houses. 'S not a problem." Maybe he can get some of the stick off him, and close his eyes and hope the ache in his bones starts to fade.

After that stunt, it's not likely.
shorthair: (put all your faults to bed)

[personal profile] shorthair 2017-07-20 03:38 am (UTC)(link)
They're going to collapse at any second, aren't they?

Clementine frowns and moves forward. "This way." She goes to the first house, opening the door, checking the windows and the back door. They're all intact. No walkers here. She turns back to the both of them, sliding her backpack off her shoulders, pulling out the essentials to put on the table.

If they die or something after she saved them, she's gonna be pissed.

"Bandages, antiseptic, food, water, pain meds. Should get you through."

She's hoping the Event won't last much longer, but she has to restock.
postictal: (barely got a lid on it)

[personal profile] postictal 2017-07-20 03:57 am (UTC)(link)
How the hell she manages to be more unflinchingly competent than either of them is...well, actually, that's not all that surprising. It's just kind of sobering in an exhausting kind of way.

"Thanks."

He's tired. He's fucking tired, and she's done enough into them - no need to dip into her own supplies on their account.

"You don't have to...we've gone through worse." Probably, anyway. "We'll probably just hole up and - lay low." For once.
shorthair: and so thin (you look so worn)

[personal profile] shorthair 2017-07-20 05:13 pm (UTC)(link)
"I know I don't have to do it. How do you think I survived in my world? Everything I did was to keep myself alive even if it meant screwing over someone else. It fucking had to be."

Clementine leaves the items despite their arguing with her over it. It's nice to be able to save someone for a change even if it meant saving two dumbasses, even if it meant being stupid herself for once, rushing into a too dangerous situation with little hope of surviving. Carver said she could make the hard choices, and she can. She has done s many times in her own world, choosing who lives and who dies, who is the better choice for survival- Honestly, there's some adrenaline from the experience that feels good for once even if her heart's still beating too fast in her chest.

"I've got a whole room stocked with even more. I'll be fine. Worry about yourselves first."

She starts towards the door and then smirks. "And don't play any more loud music."

With that, she's gone, leaving the two alone in the house.
postictal: (did i leave the stove on)

[personal profile] postictal 2017-07-20 06:38 pm (UTC)(link)
Great. Yeah. They'll be sure not to turn up any more stereos.

Tim leans back against the nearest wall, sliding downward until he's in a trembling seated position. At least neither of them are at the immediate risk of fucking dying anymore, which is a nice deviation from the norm. Much as the frustration from Jay's little stunt has yet to boil off in earnest, that requires more effort than he feels capable of exerting at the moment.

The square of the lighter digs into the center of his palm. He has to remind himself to relinquish his grip on it, even slightly.

What a day.