"Should you end up in a room with more than just one way out, be sure to pick the door that looks worse and less promising..." Albeit said in a light tone and with a small chuckle, the truth hidden between those words tastes slightly bitter. The apocalypse has left scars as prominent as the ones on K’s arm, but unlike K’s skin all those shattered windows and destroyed walls of Aaron's universe will not magically return to their former beauty. Nothing but shadows from the past, memories of a long-lost future, of what could have been. Of lives that could have been.
But there is no point in thinking about all that now - or thinking about all that, at all. So he reaches for the door handle instead, pushes it down with his elbow to lead them out of the room.
“Or, you know. If you're not sure which way to go, you can always keep an eye out for something like this—“ Lifting the hand holding the knife, Aaron uses its tip to point to a small symbol scratched into the white paint at the top corner of the doorframe: an A framed by two vertical lines and a horizontal one at the top. “Morgan-- a friend of mine came up with this. To make sure that we would always find our way back, that no one would be left behind.” That Rick would find them, for the off chance that he would be still out there and looking for a way to find his family. Aaron’s lips tighten for a second as he tries to ignore the small wave of loss that threatens to wash over him and he tears his gaze away from his sign, focusing on K’s face instead.
“Three lines like that mean that the area is clean and safe, that I cleared it. Once we’re outside and get closer to Alexandria you will also find signs similar to this one, just with an M or D instead of the A. Both signs can be trusted.” Neither Morgan nor Daryl would mark a trapped region or building that isn’t hundred percent free of potentially lethal threats. But the zombies in his world are called ‘walkers’ for a reason, so- “Should you come across a sign that looks weathered, keep your eyes open for stray walkers.” All right, he nods once to signal that his brief lecture about post-apocalyptic road signs and hidden messages is over for now. Should K decide to stay with Aaron for a while, they can talk about the finer details of this specific way of communicating with other scavengers or hunters. Maybe even think up a symbol for K or find their own way of leaving messages for each other.
"Did you notice?" Aaron points upwards. Similar panels covering the ceiling of the corridor, but the light in this corridor is less bright. Maybe because only half of the panels are actually working, and two are flickering in an unsteady rythm. Broken.They are definitely on the right track.
Just as Aaron remembers from his first time walking down the dimly lit floor, there's a huge toolbox standing in the far corner of the corridor, right next to a ladder. As if someone had actually meant to fix this mess.
"Want to take a look?" He's already down on one knee, leaning over the tool box in search for a hammer. "To kill a walker, you have to destroy their brain. Pick what you think will work best for you..."
Once they are done sorting through the tools and taking all the things they want to keep, they have to make their way through two smaller rooms, each marked with Aaron's sign and each room in a slightly worse state than the one before, until they are finally in a corridor that looks nothing like the brightly lit and very clean room from the beginning. There is no more electricity at all, no artificial light, only sunlight reduced to a dim grey by a soot-blackened window. But what's even worse than the lack of light is the dusty smell of empty shelves and peeling paint that greets them as soon as they open the door, the unmistakable scent of decay and neglect. And underneath it? There is an even darker, far more unpleasant stench – a smell that would fill up your senses and stay with you for hours after exposition. A smell that Aaron would recognise in a heartbeat. Home sweet home.
“Okay, so. I think there’s a welcome committee right behind the door. Two, maybe three of them.” Just listen to the distant noises – the gurgling and grunting, the sound of torn feet being dragged over faded linoleum. The sound of someone bumping mindlessly against the other side of the door.
If you want to change your mind, K? This would be the right moment.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
I.
Date: 2020-09-11 11:43 pm (UTC)But there is no point in thinking about all that now - or thinking about all that, at all. So he reaches for the door handle instead, pushes it down with his elbow to lead them out of the room.
“Or, you know. If you're not sure which way to go, you can always keep an eye out for something like this—“ Lifting the hand holding the knife, Aaron uses its tip to point to a small symbol scratched into the white paint at the top corner of the doorframe: an A framed by two vertical lines and a horizontal one at the top. “Morgan-- a friend of mine came up with this. To make sure that we would always find our way back, that no one would be left behind.” That Rick would find them, for the off chance that he would be still out there and looking for a way to find his family. Aaron’s lips tighten for a second as he tries to ignore the small wave of loss that threatens to wash over him and he tears his gaze away from his sign, focusing on K’s face instead.
“Three lines like that mean that the area is clean and safe, that I cleared it. Once we’re outside and get closer to Alexandria you will also find signs similar to this one, just with an M or D instead of the A. Both signs can be trusted.” Neither Morgan nor Daryl would mark a trapped region or building that isn’t hundred percent free of potentially lethal threats. But the zombies in his world are called ‘walkers’ for a reason, so- “Should you come across a sign that looks weathered, keep your eyes open for stray walkers.” All right, he nods once to signal that his brief lecture about post-apocalyptic road signs and hidden messages is over for now. Should K decide to stay with Aaron for a while, they can talk about the finer details of this specific way of communicating with other scavengers or hunters. Maybe even think up a symbol for K or find their own way of leaving messages for each other.
"Did you notice?" Aaron points upwards. Similar panels covering the ceiling of the corridor, but the light in this corridor is less bright. Maybe because only half of the panels are actually working, and two are flickering in an unsteady rythm. Broken.They are definitely on the right track.
Just as Aaron remembers from his first time walking down the dimly lit floor, there's a huge toolbox standing in the far corner of the corridor, right next to a ladder. As if someone had actually meant to fix this mess.
"Want to take a look?" He's already down on one knee, leaning over the tool box in search for a hammer. "To kill a walker, you have to destroy their brain. Pick what you think will work best for you..."
Once they are done sorting through the tools and taking all the things they want to keep, they have to make their way through two smaller rooms, each marked with Aaron's sign and each room in a slightly worse state than the one before, until they are finally in a corridor that looks nothing like the brightly lit and very clean room from the beginning. There is no more electricity at all, no artificial light, only sunlight reduced to a dim grey by a soot-blackened window. But what's even worse than the lack of light is the dusty smell of empty shelves and peeling paint that greets them as soon as they open the door, the unmistakable scent of decay and neglect. And underneath it? There is an even darker, far more unpleasant stench – a smell that would fill up your senses and stay with you for hours after exposition. A smell that Aaron would recognise in a heartbeat. Home sweet home.
“Okay, so. I think there’s a welcome committee right behind the door. Two, maybe three of them.” Just listen to the distant noises – the gurgling and grunting, the sound of torn feet being dragged over faded linoleum. The sound of someone bumping mindlessly against the other side of the door.
If you want to change your mind, K? This would be the right moment.
I love that song! And the katydid! c: Funnily enough that could be a nickname for K...
From:Omg you're right about the katydid! Awww c:
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