Unfamiliar ceilings

Who: Jeremy and Owen to start with. Now open to Bethany, Chris and Drew
Where: Maple Street 1
When: Early morning

Inside of a Dog, It's too Dark to Read

Who: Brianna and anyone else really.
Where: Liz-ibrary. I mean, Library.
When: Mid-Morning


Just before everything went to hell again I'd taken on a job at the library. I just went back there this morning to make sure everything is still standing and I thought I should let you all know that there are plenty of books there still. I haven't exactly taken inventory yet but I've seen a few books that could be helpful if our situation gets any worse or doesn't improve at all.

If you want to read up on survival, how to get certain things done, first aid or anything else you may want to drop by.

Private messages.

[Private to Janie]

Hey. I just wanted to ask if there was anything you needed or anything I could do for you. I'm guessing things are really rough right now and I don't pretend to be able to do anything to really help but if you need food, company, anything... Just let me know.

You and Everett have been taking charge and, I have to admit, I've been reluctant to join out of fear... I guess of everything. The situation, everyone else. But I'd like to help and I think I'm ready, have to be ready. Is there anything specific that needs to be done?

Could we start again, please?

Who: Drew and Jeremy
Where: Jeremy's house
When: Morning

Drew had woken up to Rin being gone. Which...was not good. It hit him hard, blindsided him in a way that he should have seen coming--but for some reason hadn't. But then again, how was one ever really prepared to deal with someone disappearing? It wasn't like it got easier with time, or quantity of people. That just...didn't work. He'd looked all over the house, then gone to the one she'd vacated before, and...nothing. No, she was gone. Removed, even. Fuck. He'd walked around for a while, feeling like he was in a daze, until he found himself on Jeremy's porch. He sat there on the front step for at least twenty minutes, just...staring out at nothing.

Wearing us down.

[private entry]

Things Have Changed

Who: Cheryl and Jeremy
When: Morning
Where: Jeremy's house

Cheryl was well beyond unnerved. She had hidden away in her house for awhile, gnawing at her nails until they were bitten down to the fingers and then cleaning her "house" until her muscles ached. She didn't know why she was doing what she was doing, all she knew was that it helped take some of the tension out of her body. She wasn't sure what to make of what was happening around town, and she couldn't bring herself to arming herself either. A part of her felt like she didn't deserve to have protection, but then again, she was in the same boat as everyone else. She wasn't watching this time. She hadn't slept in almost two days but for a few hours here and there, and she was determined not to unload on Drew or Jeremy, neither of which she had seen much of other than when they came to check on her before. After awhile though, it became too much to bear and she left her house, crossing through the yard that separated them, to knock on Jeremy's door. Cheryl felt if she didn't talk, or have some kind of human contact, she was going to end up going crazy and having another breakdown, and she didn't want to end up in that hospital again.


Who: Drew and Jeremy
Where: drew's porch
When: Shortly after noon

The need to get out.

Who: Jeremy and open
When: TBD
Where: Outside somewhere

Jeremy was all too aware of the fact he was acting out of character. But then again he'd done nothing but for the last few months. It would be a normal thing for him to go to those town meetings, listen to what people had to say and bring in a suggestion or two himself. He'd then chat with some of them afterward and get to know a few more of them before heading out and doing something useful.

The dysfunctional C'ers

Who: Jeremy and Owen
When: Morning
Where: Owen's house, Jeremy's garage and inbetween

Owen was propping open his doors with wood. He'd pulled apart a chair to do it, but he was busy nailing, gluing and generally making a nuisance of himself to his house. He wasn't very good at it, because he didn't have the strength in his hands to get the wood steady, or to hold anything up for a length of time, but he was making progress. Clarkson had gone to sleep in self defense a while back, flapping her wings at him in indignation and giving him the parrot version of a scowl.