I'M DOING EVERYTHING ALL WRONG | open, joining

[Reggie.]

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[size=8pt][font=verdana]Camille had been top of her class in highschool, she'd graduated college with a doctorate degree, and had been a veteran socialite. Now she was living off rabbit meat butchered with her own hands and washing her undergarments in rivers. What a world, to rip that kind of status from someone. Though that wasn't what she grieved. Sure, the cravings of having a roof over her head was something that badgered her day and night, but even that didn't stand a chance. What she wanted was her babies back. Her two girls, her husband, just a sign that they would be with her again. Of course, Camille had watched her twins slowly die because their poor stomachs were empty day and night. Chelsie had died first, and a couple hours later so had Christine. Just like how they had been born. As for her husband... Well, she didn't know. He had disappeared on a snow storm, and while she prayed he had survived and was looking for her, it was more likely he had froze to death.

Her thick, black hair was pulled up into a messy, greasy bun, her makeup-less face regal. Even if she was covered in dirt the way she held herself marked her different from another survivor. Her chin was pushed upward, shoulders set back, each step light and aware. Her skin was smooth, her whole life she had followed a careful skin care regime, and whenever she had soap on hand her first move was to wash her face. Build wise she was athletic in build, but a life time of work made her trim. Though not particularly womanly or incredibly model thin she was plenty fine with herself. That was how she liked it, not incredibly perfect, but beautiful. At least, she thought herself beautiful.

What she was doing now wasn't very beautiful nor elegant, and she doubted it would ever become a popular trend. Her fingers rubbed together the fabric of her underwear while she squared over the edge of a river. The only thing covering her bare bum was the over sized T-shirt that was her only top in her current selection. Dark brown swirls that had been pulled from her hair tie was perpetually in her eyes. Gruffly she pulled them behind her ears before continuing. A look of disgust was layer out plainly on her features. How had she come to this, wearing cheap underwear with childish designs on them? It was emberassing even if it nobody knew. "Someday I'll be wearing my Agent Provocateur's and you'll be in the trash," she mused. Yes, and Abraham Lincoln himself would congratulate her on having the finest manicure, hm? Lovely. Next to her was the pistol that had once been her husband's.

// haha I dunno here ya go

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[spoiler= THE WORLD IS AN UGLY PLACE — CAMILLE][size=8pt][font=verdana]general — WHISPER LITTLE WHITE LIES
CANILLE L. SAWYER  | FEMALE [ SHE/HER ]
twenty eight years old | looks to be in her early twenties
grunt of the badlands | doesn't hold any real loyalty to the badlands
  —  born in Rhode Island | had a loving family
heterosexual | heteroromantic | single | has no romantic feelings
had a husband and two daughters | daughters died of starvation and husband was lost in a blizzard
has dagnosed bpd | suffers from depression | doesn't believe she has them
Pia Kristine Cruz faceclaim

facts — I'M JUST A MINDLESS SHELL OF WHAT HAS BEEN
before the world changed she was a woman from a wealthy family. she went to college, became a nurse, and got married. the man was poor, not really someone her parents would approve of. still, she loved him. they had beautiful twin girls named Christina and Chelsie. once the world changed her two girls died of starvation early on, devastating. not awhile after her husband was lost in a blizzard. she still hopes that her husband is alive and looking for her.
she has a distant, cold voice with the slightest east coast accent.
since she has no other clothes her forever outfit is a pair of old, ratty jeans, a too large T-shirt, and a rain proof jacket.
absolutely hates cocky assholes and whiny people who rely on others.

[b]interaction — TRYING TO FIGURE OUT WHO I WAS
MEDIUM PHYSICALLY | HARD EMOTIONALLY | ATTACK IN #1E1E1E
  —  Cam hates violence and would rather work things out peacefully, but will defend herself and those she trusts by any means necessary. Despite her generally peaceful nature she has an eye for an eye point of view. Every wound will be brought back ten fold.
was a nurse before the world changed | has extensive healing knowledge
uses a pistol though was never trained | will use a butcher knife in close combat
items in her possession: a pistol, a butcher knife, her wedding ring, an extra pair of underwear, an extra pair of socks, half a box of fruit snacks, and a pair of cracked glasses.

[Iceinkling]

k

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Damien was out during the day, exploring his new lands, his new home? It didn't quite feel like home yet, but it was definitely a step - or ten above where he came from. Was everyone coming here from bad places? Of course he didnt expect happy-go-lucky humans to want to join a murderous area. In fact he loved the idea of all the bad, abused, neglected, dropped off people. They were like a family; they knew what it was like to suffer and beg for even a piece of dry or moldy bread. Of course this was all his experience.

The platinum haired male stepped from behind the wall to spot the figurine in the distance, it was still cold outside and they seem to lack pants, it made the male more uneasy and he scoffed a bit under his breath. He pulled off his leather jacket with a wince still having his stab and cuts from a fight just days ago. His white shirt tattered at the ends and over his abdomen to show his wounds and smooth chest. He called out in a clear and uneasy tone. "H-hey! You are on Badland turf..Name and business?" He said as he warily held up his large coat for her. "I uh..You must be cold?" He said keeping his gaze firmly down on his feet. He had just joined and hoped that it was alright he shared his jacket, the female must be cold. "W-why are you not wearing any pants?" he asked worriedly before letting his haunting gray-lit oculi shift to meet her face, his lips twitching in a calming smile - only for a moment before he kept his hand up for her to take his jacket, his sleeves rolled up to show his muscular arms covered in scars all different thicknesses and skin tones - showing their age.
[spoiler=info ]
- I am the chosen one​
GENERAL:
· Damien Noir | Dammie
· Panromantic - Sexuality: Questioning | Male
· Birthday 11-07 | Twenty years old
​
RELATIONSHIPS:
· Single | Uneasy about love | Crushes: None
​
PHYSICALITY: [color=black]
★ FACE CLAIM: Draco Malfoy (Tom Felton) | health: 70% | Starving/knife cuts
— Body: Very slender, almost feminine like. Height: Five foot six inches / Weight: 100 pounds
— Blonde locks usually gelled back, but as of late always in a messy style. Plantinum looking at times
​
PERSONALITY: [color=black]
- Damien is a shy guarded being, but soft to those close to him/trust worthy.
· Does not take lightly to new people, tends to build walls.
· Very protective of those he lets in and very giddy.
· He enjoys drawing, music, and even dancing at times.
· Does not take to loud voices, flinches at playful swats/crude jokes.
​
CARRY ONS: [color=black]
· protection: Doesn't have much to wear for protection, just his jacket.
· weaponry: Enjoys his butterfly knives, and his katana.
​
INTERACTION + COMBAT: [color=black]​
· Not really the violet type - only if needed to protect.
· Can powerplay peaceful or nonviolent actions.
· Attack in [color=green]bold green
[/spoiler]
[align=center][color=transparent]© counselor dreamíe #TAGHERE

[Reggie.]

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[size=8pt][font=verdana]What? Slowly, as if she was doing something that just shouldn't interrupted she turned her head. A boy, a young boy who was trying to give her a ratty old jacket? Something about the bradlands or badlands or something of that sort too, but she didn't really care about that. "My pants?" she glanced down at her bare legs, "hm, one moment." she wrung the thin, patterned cloth before standing up straight and putting on something that should have already been there. After that she leaned down to grab her bag, bending her knees so the stranger didn't see anything. Calmly she put on her one and only pair of jeans with a grumble of disgust. "I don't need it," she murmured in reference to his coat. She had her own coat, and if things got fuzzy it was better to not have something worth chasing after.

Now that Camille's business was done she could finally pay attention to her white knight. At first glance he had looked young, and he still did. A hairless chest, practically no real build, and she was taller than him. Well, to be fair she was a tall women at 5'10, but she'd still judge him for it. "My names Camille Sawyer," the tan-skinned woman responded with her arm extended for a handshake, "is the badlands a group? I'm pretty new to this area, though that must be clear if I don't know about the badlands." An unimpressed, weak smile passed her features as she addressed the issue of not knowing whatever the flying fuck was the badlands. It sounded like some edgy 80s group. It would have been absolutely fantastic if she was in the mood for a good joke. Ah, why was she even being so polite to a complete stranger? Her mother had always said the one with better manners was the one who won. Whatever that meant, the old bat barely knew anything.

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[align=center][div style="width:450px;text-align:justify;color:#000;font-size:10pt;font-family:verdana;margin-top:-21px;z-index:1;position:relative;margin-bottom:12px;line-height:120%;"]
[spoiler= THE WORLD IS AN UGLY PLACE — CAMILLE][size=8pt][font=verdana]general — WHISPER LITTLE WHITE LIES
CANILLE L. SAWYER  | FEMALE [ SHE/HER ]
twenty eight years old | looks to be in her early twenties
grunt of the badlands | doesn't hold any real loyalty to the badlands
  —  born in Rhode Island | had a loving family
heterosexual | heteroromantic | single | has no romantic feelings
had a husband and two daughters | daughters died of starvation and husband was lost in a blizzard
has dagnosed bpd | suffers from depression | doesn't believe she has them
Pia Kristine Cruz faceclaim

facts — I'M JUST A MINDLESS SHELL OF WHAT HAS BEEN
before the world changed she was a woman from a wealthy family. she went to college, became a nurse, and got married. the man was poor, not really someone her parents would approve of. still, she loved him. they had beautiful twin girls named Christina and Chelsie. once the world changed her two girls died of starvation early on, devastating. not awhile after her husband was lost in a blizzard. she still hopes that her husband is alive and looking for her.
she has a distant, cold voice with the slightest east coast accent.
since she has no other clothes her forever outfit is a pair of old, ratty jeans, a too large T-shirt, and a rain proof jacket.
absolutely hates cocky assholes and whiny people who rely on others.

[b]interaction — TRYING TO FIGURE OUT WHO I WAS
MEDIUM PHYSICALLY | HARD EMOTIONALLY | ATTACK IN #1E1E1E
  —  Cam hates violence and would rather work things out peacefully, but will defend herself and those she trusts by any means necessary. Despite her generally peaceful nature she has an eye for an eye point of view. Every wound will be brought back ten fold.
was a nurse before the world changed | has extensive healing knowledge
uses a pistol though was never trained | will use a butcher knife in close combat
items in her possession: a pistol, a butcher knife, her wedding ring, an extra pair of underwear, an extra pair of socks, half a box of fruit snacks, and a pair of cracked glasses.

[Sylmae Winzor]

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Sylmae was drawn in by the sound of splashing in water and voices to follow. She had been sticking to herself lately and she figured it was time to step out of that shell again. Once a week was enough for her, and so here she was, attempting to socialize every now and then. She chewed on her bottom lip as she moved up beside Damien, her head tilting a little bit as she gazed over towards the woman who was in the river, washing her unmentionables in the water. She often drank from that water, but maybe not for a bit. Not after seeing this happening right in front of her. Swallowing hard, she decided to allow the man at her side take charge here, as she wasn't really equipped to handle such an awkward situation. She wouldn't dream of letting someone else see her undergarments and this woman was half naked, washing them in a river! Her cheeks flushed a light red in embarrassment as she stepped behind Damien and merely peered out from behind him, watching quietly.

This was all new to her and she wasn't entirely sure she wanted to stick around, but she was going to. She had to. Chewing on the inside of her cheek, the brunette's mocha hues watched intently as she waited for the female to speak or say anything. And then she did. Mae almost jumped out of her skin but she relaxed a bit and grumbled a little to herself. "Yeah... We're a group." She stepped out from behind the male just a bit as she fixated her gaze on the woman and offered her the faintest of smiles as she tried to relax a little bit. "I'm uhm... Sylmae Winzor.. It's uh.. Good to meet you.." She felt weird, talking to a mostly naked woman who didn't seem to care about the sort of situation that she was in and she crossed her arms almost self-consciously over her chest.

[spoiler=info | updated 2/1]
This Mae is Non-Related To The Cat Universe Mae
​
GENERAL:
· Sylmae Winzor | Syl - Mae - Sylbae
· Panromantic - Unknown Sexuality | Gender: ♀
· Birthday [02/20] | Age: 17 years old [possibly changing]
· Grunt of the Badlands
​
RELATIONSHIPS: [color=black]| ½ ⅓ ¼ ⅛
· Single | Unknowingly Looking | Crushes: None
· ½ Undecided Ship
​
PHYSICALITY: [color=black]
★ FACE CLAIM: Nina Dobrev | health: 74% | Injured/Stab Wound
— Body: Slender, Toned, Lightly Muscled / Height: 5 foot 3 inches / Weight: 105 pounds
— Brunette Hair, Usually Curled, Down to Middle of Back
— Brown Eyes with Hints of Gold
​
PERSONALITY: [color=black]
★ Mae is all around a kind person, but typically sticks to herself.
· Loner-esque qualities but will open up once she gets to know you
· Bubbly once she is comfortable with you
· Loves cuddling and reading, singing and dancing
· Terrified of sharks and thunderstorms and being abandoned [ironic]
​
EQUIPMENT: [color=black]
· protection: typically doesn't wear armor, just leather jacket
· weaponry: skilled with katana, prefers knives/swords
​
INTERACTION + COMBAT: [color=black]​
· Typically Non-violent
· Can powerplay peaceful or nonviolent actions.
· Attack in [color=teal]bold teal
[/spoiler]
[align=center][color=transparent]© counselor dreamíe #TAGHERE

[Iceinkling]

k

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---

Damien was tired of women looking at him like he was a coward, a growl rose from his throat and he narrowed his gaze - sharp and cold. His hand recoiled his jacket and he put it back on, covering his wound and he gazed to the female and simply watched her put on her pants; the idea of seeing a woman in any way sexual made him gag so he simply remained irritated. "The badlands is a group, yes, and you happen to just be on our turf. If you want to join, so be it, we accept everyone. If not, feel free to scram. Got it?" He said sternly; he may be the awkward and shy one but he knew when to put his foot down; and he refused to let some wanderer talk down to him.

"My name is Damien, Damien Noir." He said with a scoff before he glanced to Sylmae, he gave her a confident smile before turning his attention back to the other female, hands on his hips before crossing over his chest. "What's your answer, we dont have all day or night; we must gather food and our own items to survive. The weak die here, everyone for themselves it seems." He said in a somewhat defeated tone as he turned his back towards her. "Find a more private place to wash your attire next time." He snorted.

[spoiler=info ]
- I am the chosen one​
GENERAL:
· Damien Noir | Dammie
· Panromantic - Sexuality: Questioning | Male
· Birthday 11-07 | Twenty years old
​
RELATIONSHIPS:
· Single | Uneasy about love | Crushes: None
​
PHYSICALITY: [color=black]
★ FACE CLAIM: Draco Malfoy (Tom Felton) | health: 70% | Starving/knife cuts
— Body: Very slender, almost feminine like. Height: Five foot six inches / Weight: 100 pounds
— Blonde locks usually gelled back, but as of late always in a messy style. Plantinum looking at times
​
PERSONALITY: [color=black]
- Damien is a shy guarded being, but soft to those close to him/trust worthy.
· Does not take lightly to new people, tends to build walls.
· Very protective of those he lets in and very giddy.
· He enjoys drawing, music, and even dancing at times.
· Does not take to loud voices, flinches at playful swats/crude jokes.
​
CARRY ONS: [color=black]
· protection: Doesn't have much to wear for protection, just his jacket.
· weaponry: Enjoys his butterfly knives, and his katana.
​
INTERACTION + COMBAT: [color=black]​
· Not really the violet type - only if needed to protect.
· Can powerplay peaceful or nonviolent actions.
· Attack in [color=green]bold green
[/spoiler]
[align=center][color=transparent]© counselor dreamíe #TAGHERE