07-29-2019, 10:04 PM
[align=center][div style="background=transparent; borderwidth=0px; bordercolor=; width: auto; font-size: 9.2pt; font-family:arial; line-height: 125%; text-align:justify; width: 490px"]Five days. He had been here for a whole five days.
So far, this place was as picture-perfect as any beach town could get. Hot summer heat, warm sands leading down into cool waters, clear blue skies that stretched across the horizon and beyond. Ronnie had never seen anyplace quite like this. He had been born and raised in a "nowhere-town", where not even the roaming bandits cared to venture. Where he had grown up, the resources were little and scarce, as was the community that inhabited the abandoned streets. All there was were rotting buildings, dead grass, and trees for miles around. It was hidden and peaceful for the most part, but at the same time, it was all rather... plain.
Not that Ronnie had exactly left his birthplace in search of a more scenic view. He had to get away, and find somewhere else. Anywhere but there. With them. Had he stayed there for any longer, he probably would have gone mad in the head.
He had to admit, though  he gave himself major props for stumbling upon this place... even if a ragtag group of edgelords already inhabited the joint. Ronnie had never encountered any of the major survivalist groups before, since he had been so sheltered for his whole life. In a way? These guys were similar to that of the old "gang" he associated himself with in the old days ( except this was much more structured ). He wasn't too sure if he liked them or not  hell, who was he kidding? He didn't like anybody. However, only the test of time would tell if he could come to tolerate the "Badlands". Perhaps, if they proved themselves worthy of it, he could offer his services.
Maybe it would feel nice to belong to something for once.
After all, there was more resources here than he could've gotten his hands on back at home. This was the start of his new life, away from the bad memories and the people he oh-so hated with his whole damn soul.
Ronnie had been leaned up against the side of a building, taking in the shade it provided. He hadn't remained relaxed for long, however, as it appeared that he was out of cigarettes. "God... dammit," He cursed in a low tone of voice, his brows furrowing as he glared down at the sad, emptied pack of Camels. He had been sure that he had an extra pack on hand, but he was proved wrong. That was just fucking great. Now he was in a bad mood, which never was a good thing.
So far, this place was as picture-perfect as any beach town could get. Hot summer heat, warm sands leading down into cool waters, clear blue skies that stretched across the horizon and beyond. Ronnie had never seen anyplace quite like this. He had been born and raised in a "nowhere-town", where not even the roaming bandits cared to venture. Where he had grown up, the resources were little and scarce, as was the community that inhabited the abandoned streets. All there was were rotting buildings, dead grass, and trees for miles around. It was hidden and peaceful for the most part, but at the same time, it was all rather... plain.
Not that Ronnie had exactly left his birthplace in search of a more scenic view. He had to get away, and find somewhere else. Anywhere but there. With them. Had he stayed there for any longer, he probably would have gone mad in the head.
He had to admit, though  he gave himself major props for stumbling upon this place... even if a ragtag group of edgelords already inhabited the joint. Ronnie had never encountered any of the major survivalist groups before, since he had been so sheltered for his whole life. In a way? These guys were similar to that of the old "gang" he associated himself with in the old days ( except this was much more structured ). He wasn't too sure if he liked them or not  hell, who was he kidding? He didn't like anybody. However, only the test of time would tell if he could come to tolerate the "Badlands". Perhaps, if they proved themselves worthy of it, he could offer his services.
Maybe it would feel nice to belong to something for once.
After all, there was more resources here than he could've gotten his hands on back at home. This was the start of his new life, away from the bad memories and the people he oh-so hated with his whole damn soul.
Ronnie had been leaned up against the side of a building, taking in the shade it provided. He hadn't remained relaxed for long, however, as it appeared that he was out of cigarettes. "God... dammit," He cursed in a low tone of voice, his brows furrowing as he glared down at the sad, emptied pack of Camels. He had been sure that he had an extra pack on hand, but he was proved wrong. That was just fucking great. Now he was in a bad mood, which never was a good thing.
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[glow=black,2,300]❪ — HEY YOUNGBLOOD ❫[/glow]
DOESN'T IT FEEL LIKE OUR TIME IS RUNNING OUT ? — [i]TAGS[/i]