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 I'LL SLEEP WHEN YOU'RE DEAD, NPCs, THERESE, LUCAS, LUCY
NPC
Posted: Mar 12 2012, 02:23 PM


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PLOT THREAD
The setting is a high school locker room - two women are handcuffed to the legs of a wooden bench flanked on either side by metal lockers. The tile is cold and hard beneath them. Across the room, a few feet away, is another body - that of a young man - his hand is cuffed to the pipes of a water fountain. Beside the young man's prone body is a doorway leading into the bathroom where rows of toilets line one wall and showers line the other.

Except for the steady sound of labored breathing, the locker room is silent. Beside the main door - a large, dented metal contraption - is an office. It was once the office of the coach of the girl's basketball and soccer team but now it's being used by three individuals who are definitely not high school administrators. Muffled voices could be heard coming from the office but the words are impossible to make out.



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therese bouvier
Posted: Mar 12 2012, 04:15 PM


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Old leather. That was it. The overwhelming stench of leather, as she retracted from the window of that Ford she had been raiding in the mall parking lot and...Nothing. Just blackness. An unfamiliar, overwhelming darkness that only intensified the ache that tore through her temple and swelled with every beat of her heart in her ears when she gave it any thought. She remembered a rough crack--something hitting the ground? or was it her skull splitting open? One hand twitched, the instinctive movement to touch the tender crown of her head in search of blood hindered by something metal and cold around her wrist. Her other hand, notably, was free, and she braced it against the ground beneath her in an ill-conceived attempt to stand.Bad idea. She found herself jerked back down to the cold floor (or, rather, what she assumed to be a floor) by the restraint keeping her hand in place before she made it very far. Her efforts were rewarded with a considerable throb in her temple, before the world slipped away again.A short time later, Therese came to, with a vision of the world that no longer swam and swayed before her. She sat up tentatively, sliding carefully until the small of her back hit the wood of the bench, and stared mindlessly at the lockers before her. It took her a moment to collect her bearings, and only then did she venture to look to her right--more lockers--and then her left--finding two people in similar predicaments further down the aisle. One was a dark-haired woman, hitched to the bench by the same means as she, and the other was a scrawny young...kid. A teenager. He couldn't be any older than eighteen--not from her vantage point, anyhow--and yet there he was, shackled up and slumped over and...Therese was only twenty-eight, herself, but she had learned a few things: when you wake up in handcuffs with no recollection of the events that brought you there, and Dacre wasn't looming over you buck-naked with a crop, you were most likely in trouble. Not the good kind of trouble, either. Not the you've-been-a-naughty-girl kind. Nooo. The real kind. The type of trouble that she found to be quite prevalent in a post-apocalyptic, zombie-ridden world. As if the goddamned walkers weren't enough. As if Dacre and Brock wouldn't be enough to worry about without the threat of the undead tearing out their throats every single day--The headache came back with a vengeance, but that wasn't a surprise. Rubbing her aching cranium, she thought bitterly on how the two aforementioned men could drive her up a wall without her head having been assaulted first. That was her bad.Turning back to the situation at hand, Therese glanced back at her fellow prisoners uneasily. She could hear the faint lilt of voices somewhere off, but the words spoken were indiscernible. She supposed whoever was speaking was a distance away and--in hopes of avoiding attracting any walkers shambling nearby (you never knew!)--decided against calling out. Consoled by the knowledge that the two captives beside her may have more recollection of their circumstances than she, the blonde decided to make contact with the woman, who proved to be more easily accessible. Sliding down onto her tailbone, Therese braced her hands against the tiled floor and extended her leg. She jabbed her toe into the woman's side a few times, chancing a whispered, "Hello? Oui? Madame?"
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LUCY GINSBERG
Posted: Mar 13 2012, 12:21 PM


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Since the end of the world and her subsequent brush with death via a Vicodin overdose, Lucy discovered she had quite a talent for drifting in and out of consciousness practically at will. Most people would have called that "going to sleep" except for Lucy, the fainting spells could happen at any time of day, at any place. They'd started after her overdose and lingered for a few days afterward but for the past few weeks, the brunette had managed to keep from keeling over at the slightest provocation like a high school quarterback with cranial damage. She didn't voice her concern to anybody else but she was secretly quite relieved when the fainting stopped altogether.

A crack to the back of the head however wasn't going to help matters.

When the brunette awoke to bleary vision and a pounding ache in the back of her head reminiscent of someone taking a chisel to her skull and tapping away at it, her first instinct was to check her pocket for pills, to make sure she hadn't accidentally taken one too many again, and to make sure she wasn't somehow overdosing out of sheer carelessness. When her hand stopped just short of her back pocket, it was the rattling of metal against metal and a tightness around her wrist cutting into her skin that caught her attention. As her vision sharpened, Lucy became aware of two things - one, she wasn't on the Pride or even in the vicinity of the Marina where she last remembered being and two, her right hand was currently cuffed to the metal leg of a bench. She used her left one to reach in her pocket, removing an orange pill bottle. Shaking it gingerly, Lucy pursed her lips. She wasn't overdosing. She wasn't hallucinating.

"Shit," she stuck the pills back in her pocket and looked around (a feat which became quite difficult considering she could only turn her body at a slight angle without dislocating her shoulder in the process). Beside her on the other end of the bench was a blonde in a similar predicament as herself and beyond the blonde was a boy cuffed to a water fountain. It dawned on Lucy that they were in some sort of locker room and her eyes widened briefly in bewilderment. Adjusting herself again so that her cuffed wrist rested against her legs and her back was supported by the bench, she closed her eyes and tried to recall the events leading up to her being handcuffed with three strangers in a very Saw-like scenario that may or may not eventually involve one of them cutting their own foot off for the amusement of some psychopath.

In the darkness behind closed eyes, the brunette could feel her pulse quicken and the blood pumping rhymically against her temples. She felt something else too, something nudging her side and a voice broke through the silence of the locker room. Lucy's eyes fluttered open and she turned to look at the blonde who'd just woken up. "Madame?" She repeated softly in response, arching a brow. God, please don't tell me I'm chained to a locker and stuck with people who don't even speak English. She frowned and continued in a whisper, "Call me Lucy. I'd shake your hand but ..." the chain on her wrist rattled. "You are?"

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LUCAS OAKES
Posted: Mar 13 2012, 04:58 PM


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Lucas was definitely in a good place in his life; hell he and Conor were just getting ready to go sailing for the first time ever in just a few days. Ever since his sudden and quick thinking proposal with that cherry Ring Pop, Lucas has spent a majority of his free time away from the other teen in search of an actual ring because they had already eaten the other one. But still, a proposal was a proposal even if he didn’t actually ask the question; the actions were enough to solidify what he wanted. He didn’t really talk to Margot, or anyone for that matter, about the idea but to him it seemed appropriate if they were going to start a new life off drugs to start their own lives together, as cheesy as that sounded.

He left Sam’s Club that morning to get everything ready on The Drunken Fool as they had come to call their ship. He went through and cleaned a majority of the things that needed it; he put new bedding on the bed, dusted the hell out of everything, and even got things ready for a nice dinner where he was going to attempt to cook and give the actual ring that was in his pocket to Conor. He knew it probably wasn’t the smartest idea not to leave a note to his fiancé where he was running off too, since they did sort of promise each other to make sure they knew where the other was at all times; these were dangerous times after all. But he wanted everything he was doing to be a secret, to surprise the other teen.

Lucas had just gotten off their boat and was making sure it was tied snugly to the dock when he felt a shooting pain through the back of his head and then darkness.

When the dark-haired teen began to stir, the first thing he realized was that everything around him was dark. Where was he? He shook his head and felt something warm running down the back of his neck; a hand moved instinctively to that spot, feeling a warm liquid between his fingers which he brought back in front of his face and for a second he froze like that, staring blankly at where he assumed his hand was. He couldn’t see. Almost immediately after that shocking realization, his breath hitched loudly and when he tried to move his other hand he felt something cool, handcuffs most likely, that held his wrist in place. He could hear hushed voices across the room or wherever he was, as well as some muffled ones that were a bit closer – and he started to panic.

“Conor?” Lucas asked quietly; why he even thought that his fiancé would be here was beyond him, but the other teen was the only person on his mind right now. He yanked on the handcuffs again making a soft clang sound each time he relaxed the tension of the metal and again pulled his arm a bit stronger. He breathing became more labored as he yanked harder and faster, his other hand reached to grab onto his bound wrist as he tried again to free himself – to no avail. His heart began to pound erratically and he could feel the pumping in his head as it caused a throb each and every time as he again tried to pull on the handcuffs before finally he gave up and pushed his back against the wall, his hand hanging a few inches above his shoulder connected to what, after he felt it with his other hand, he figured was a pipe.

And all he did was sit there and stare blankly and silently, complete unaware that the hushed voices he heard earlier were of two women sitting only a few feet away. Lucas did the only thing he knew how at this point, the only coping mechanism he ever had in his life to calm his frantic nerves and the impulse just to scream out and go insane against his restraints; he numbed himself from everything, only feeling the pain in his head at each beat of his heart.

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therese bouvier
Posted: Mar 15 2012, 05:58 PM


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Lucy.She offered up her name--softly, carefully--as though it were the most natural thing in the world. The other woman seemed well-adjusted, and Therese took it as a sign that Lucy had been conscience a bit longer than she. Her extended leg suddenly acutely apparent, the blonde sheepishly retracted her prodding limb and tucked her legs beneath her once again.The formalities that the other woman had proffered put her at ease; how someone could be so serene, so phlegmatic about the whole thing stumped her, but she decided not to question it. As the haze cleared, her thoughts began to race and only further aggravated the pervasive headache she was suffering under. She couldn't tell if Lucy had suffered a similar blow to the head, but if she had she certainly handled it well. One thing was for sure: it was not a hangover throbbing behind Therese's temples, and it didn't take her nursing training to know that was a bad omen."Therese. Hi. It's...um, a pleasure. Kind of." The blonde offered her companion a sheepish smile. She opted not to beat around the bush and followed Lucy's suit in keeping her voice hushed. It was better to garner all the information she could now if there was a chance she would black out again. With the darkness seeping into the peripherals of her mind's eye, she cut to the chase: "Do you remember how you got here? I was at the Galleria--"Her words trailed off, interrupted by the rousing of the kid adjacent to them. Therese perked up, straining to make out the teen's murmur, and only decompressed when he seemingly fell catatonic. Turning back to the dark haired girl closer to her, Therese nodded at the boy and repeated his word. "Conor?"
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LUCY GINSBERG
Posted: Mar 16 2012, 06:28 PM


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The blonde spoke, introducing herself, and Lucy was surprised by how civil she was. How effortlessly friendly. Her words struck the brunette as out of place for their situation. It was a pleasure? Unlikely. Unless the blonde took pleasure in finding themselves chained to furniture with other strangers this was quite possibly the best example of the least pleasurable experience Lucy'd had to endure in recent memory. Her expression betrayed her opinion of the blonde's words, the faintest furrowing of her brow and downward twist of her lips signalled her vexation. To a stranger unfamiliar with Lucy's standoffish tendencies, her actions and tone could easily be interpretted as unfriendly, even misanthropic. While completely aware that she came off as something of a sarcastic bitch, the woman didn't seem to have any intention of changing her attitude.

"Therese," Lucy closed her eyes slowly in an attempt to will away her headache as the blonde spoke her thoughts aloud, trying to figure out what had happened in the time between their last moments of consciousness and the present. The galleria. Therese had been at the mall. That couldn't be right. Lucy's frown deepened. "I was at the marina, that's across the city." She cringed as a voice spoke up softly from the other side of the room. "Does your head feel as terrible as mine does?"

Forcing her eyes open, Lucy glanced back over at the young man who'd been unconscious a moment ago. "Hey," she called out, her voice low but insistent. "Kid, is that your name?" Conor. She found it strange that the boy would be asking his own name like a question and Lucy did know a Conor - or at least she'd heard quite a bit about one but that was Sullivan's son. This boy looked nothing like a Finch (which could in many ways be considered a blessing). Perplexed, Lucy tried to turn her body again to better look at the boy, the chain against her wrist rattling in protest.


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LUCAS OAKES
Posted: Mar 16 2012, 10:03 PM


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Lucas set his head back against the concrete wall, which he instantly regretted when he felt a shooting pain that made his head throb even more than before as he let out a low groan of pain. He was beyond panicking now, instead he just kept still and tried his damnedest to keep as calm as he could but he could feel the anxiety building; looming like a lion waiting to strike in the deepest recesses of his mind. This was exactly the thing he was afraid of happening to Conor, getting hurt and all that, but he couldn’t help but think how ironic it was that he ended up in whatever the hell situation he was in now. He tried to move his wrist again, which only made a soft clang sound against the metal pipe and he sighed defeated.

And he silent hoped that maybe he wasn’t blind and there was just a blindfold over his eyes. They already bashed his skull in and he could feel the warmth of his blood on the back of his neck, what’s to say they didn’t cover his eyes too? The worst part was that he was afraid to even move his free hand up to see if he even had a blindfold on, because he couldn’t feel anything around his head; in fact the only thing he felt at all right now was a searing headache. He could hear two people talking in hushed tones across the room, whom he recognized by their tone of voice to be women. Why would people kidnap two women and then him? What did he even have to offer? Were they cannibals or something and planned on eating them?

As all the possibilities swirled in his dazed mind, he heard a woman speaking softly to him and at first he said nothing. “No, I’m Lucas. I just… know a Conor.” He said quietly. He looked in the direction of where he heard the other woman’s voice, although even then it looked like he was staring off into the distance more than right at them. “Are you guys blindfolded too?” It was obvious, at this point, that Lucas was in denial about his own impairment and his mind was trying to wrap around all the possibilities about why he couldn’t see in the first place; and yet his mind also refused to recognize the very reality of what had happened.

He wasn’t sure if he could accept the reality.

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ROSEMARY CLYDE
Posted: Mar 17 2012, 05:09 AM


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Rosemary did not like the way that her and her companions had been changing over the past few months. Innocent people had gotten hurt in ‘accidents’ because of them. Accidents that Bonnie and her sister had both assured her were actually accidents, and not acts of violence committed on purpose. However, Rosemary could sense something was wrong. Bonnie was not being himself, for the most part, and he was growing increasingly more violent in the way he spoke about other people who were not a part of their small posse. Rosemary’s worries kept her up at night. Sleep had been eluding her, and the lack of such a thing was beginning to make her think crazy thoughts. She was starting to think about hurting people, about hurting her companions, and the ideas scared her. Rosemary was not a violent person by nature, or she did not used to be, but that was slowly changing with each speech that Bonnie gave to her and her sister.

“I’m going to go check on the survivors, and make sure they are behaving. I don’t want any accidents or escapes.” Rosemary stated to her two peers as she eyed them suspiciously, “I will be back in a minute. It looks like they are waking up.” While she hated most of the things that her, Morina, and Bonnie had been doing, she found it hard to say no to her companions. Morina and Bonnie both knew the quickest way to Rosemary’s heart, and she loved them so much that she could not ever stay mad or negative towards them for long, even if they were kidnapping people. Bonnie had a way of making her see things from his perspective. With his silver tongued knack for negotiating, Bonnie could talk a starving man out of his last scrap of food, and make him feel good about the decision he made. Bonnie’s way with words was what made Rosemary swoon every time she doubted him. He was the brains, and she was the life of the group, while Morina had been acting like their muscle. If only her parents could see her now.

Rosemary exited the coach’s office, closing the door behind her, and entered the locker room. Upon entering the room, she changed her personality. She was a sweet woman who cared about people, and these hostages would be able to see that if she acted like anything close to her normal self, so she decided to employ that acting skills she had picked up from the Theatre class she had been forced to take in undergraduate school. Rosemary let her repressed rage seep to the surface and take form in her glare at the hostages. “Shut up! All of you!” Rosemary commanded in the toughest and angriest voice she could muster, which was surprisingly not hard at all, “Now, I want you all to keep quiet, or we will kill you. Understand? If a bullet to the brain doesn’t sound appealing to you, then shut the fuck up, and do everything that my friends and I tell you to do!” Rosemary felt a sense of pride and disgust swell up inside of her. This was not her, but it felt good to let out her aggression. She retrieved a small note pad and pen from the pants pocket of her blue jeans, and the sight of the tank top on her chest reminded her again of the home she had stolen it from.

Rosemary refused to let herself get all philosophical now, however, and she decided to continue taking charge. She took a seat in a chair nearby, which was far way enough away from the survivors that they would not be able to even graze her, and she began writing down bits of information about the hostages. “I want you all to tell me everything about yourselves. Save the backstory bullshit, though. I just want to know your names, something personal about you, and who I should contact for a ransom.” Rosemary declared as she continued writing on the small note pad, “We already know what groups you people were a part of, and we have been watching you for a while, so save the lies for someone who has the time. Anyone who doesn’t comply will be shot in the head, and tossed to the Walkers outside.” She did not condone violence, but using it as a threat was the best way to get people to pay attention. Rosemary could feel her heart weighing heavier with the stress her body felt from the situation, and she knew in that moment that she would never be able to sleep again without nightmares of this instance.



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therese bouvier
Posted: Mar 19 2012, 12:21 PM


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When Lucy said she hailed from the marina across town, Therese felt her heart sink in her chest. She wasn't quite certain why, but the mounting sense of dread that knotted in the pit of her stomach told her this was information she best make use of--and fast. While she was certain Clay wasn't Dacre's favorite person, if anything should happen to her--and the too-coincidental connection with Lucy might as well have been a guarantee that something would--Dacre had to know. He had to know that she wouldn't just up and leave him (er, not again, anyway). With this in mind, Therese swallowed her apprehension and murmured hastily, "Th-the marina? Merde, I don't know what's going on, but if something were to happen, there is a man named--""Shut up! All of you!"The blonde jerked to attention at the shrill, angry cry of (what she gathered to be) one of their captors, shrinking back against the reliable structure of the locker room bench she was attached to. Most of the woman's words fell on deaf ears; her sense of sight seemed to be call rank just then and memorizing every inch of her captor's personage took precedence. The stranger didn't seem like the wrathful type, but she certainly sounded like it, and it was then that Therese was certain she had never encountered her before. She couldn't have. She would have remembered a face so contorted by deviance.A few select tidbits of the woman's words did stick, however: her commands to give up her name and personal information resonated, but it was the request for someone to demand ransom from that really disconcerted her. Breath bated, when she tried to speak Therese's words came out as pathetic gasps for air instead. Crap.Finally her vocal cords decided to cooperate, and she spoke hastily in an effort to make up for the time lost choking on air. Tripping over her words, she blurted, "Ah--I'm...I'm Therese, I am...I-I don't know. I don't have any family. There's...there's um...Clay. Clay Suarez." Her accent garbled his surname a bit, but Therese trudged on, stifling the sobs of fear that threatened her. "At the marina. Pl-please, what...what is this?"
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LUCY GINSBERG
Posted: Mar 19 2012, 01:52 PM


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A curious expression flickered across the blonde's face and despite herself, Lucy's curiosity was piqued. When she began speaking of someone at the marina, Lucy found herself watching the blonde carefully. It was strange that Therese would have a message for her to relay to some stranger that she might know. The armada was large - there were close to 50 people, maybe more, living on various vessels and the brunette had hardly met half of them.

Before Therese could finish her thought however, a young woman entered the locker room and all but snarled at them. Conflicting feelings of surprise and the first inkling of fear, real fear that this wasn't some sort of joke but a very serious situation that she'd somehow landed herself in, Lucy waited silently, eyes studying the young woman who addressed them like she was the one in charge. She was young, Lucy realized. Far too young, in her opinion, to be running around a wasteland kidnapping people and chaining them to locker room benches.

The brunette exhaled, her mind reeling at the word ransom. If they had been watching her like this woman said they were, then they'd know who to contact and Lucy was about to say so when Therese beat her to the punch. The look of surprise on her face was genuine. "Clay?" She repeated before she could stop herself. Confusion quickly gave way to realization and Lucy pressed her lips together, nodding faintly. Clay. Well, she shouldn't be surprised considering their last conversation. Lucy glanced back at her kidnapper. "You probably already know who to contact - Sullivan Finch. He's the one with the yacht in the marina but -" arranging her features carefully, deliberately assuming a look of concern Lucy lowered her voice, softening it. "But please, that boy - he needs help. I think there's something wrong with his eyes. He asked if we were blindfolded," it was impressive how the brunette sounded so sincere as she pled for help in an attempt to gain the young woman's sympathy.

If the young woman let her guard down, they might be able to use that to their advantage.

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LUCAS OAKES
Posted: Mar 19 2012, 03:46 PM


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Lucas continued to be wrapped up in his own thoughts; only now he started to think about Conor. He should have told Conor where he was going, maybe even have had the other teen come too and none of this would have happened because whoever took him probably wouldn’t have had the balls to confront two teens. Heck, they were pathetic enough to hit him in the back of the head instead of facing him head on; not that Lucas was at all physically scary or anything, but he could put up one hell of a fight. He frowned when he reached behind his head again and his fingers touched where he was hit, instantly retracting them away as a sharp pain pulsed through his mind. He rubbed is fingers together and found them slick; blood, and if that was any indication to what he felt on the back of his neck, he concluded that he was probably bleeding.

He was doing everything to distract himself from the fact that he couldn’t see.

Lucas jumped when a woman started speaking, no yelling, at them. His head hung low as he weakly tugged against the handcuffs again and not surprisingly they didn’t come loose or anything. Why was he even being kidnapped? Why did these people want a ransom? There was a possibility that they were some former clients of his, but he doubted they would have had the gull to actually kidnap him like these idiots did. What did they have to gain? Margot and he didn’t have much to being with besides meth and fuck, if they wanted that they could have all of it. Lucas was done with that addiction. His head perked when the name ‘Sullivan Finch’ was said by one of the women; Conor’s dad? How did this woman know him?

He could hear one of the woman talking quietly across the room and Lucas let out a loud and very exaggerated sigh as he figured it was his turn to spill. “You would think if you took the time to stalk us, you would have at least gotten our names and everything.” Lucas muttered under his breath – oh yeah, some things wouldn’t change even if he was kidnapped. “I’m Lucas Oakes, obviously you already know where I am from. As for whom to contact for a ransom: my stepmom, Margot Oakes.” And chances were, they probably already knew who she was too. These people must have put a lot of time into plotting their kidnapping and he couldn’t help but be somewhat standoffish when it came to that. He so badly wanted to touch his eyes, just to feel that there was a blindfold or something there; he couldn’t accept that he could possibly be blind; he would be useless in this world…

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