Sleep now.

[Shaun Klein]

Strolling through the basement halls and rooms. He stumbled upon a brightly lit room with a rather misplaced light fixture hanging from the stone ceiling. He quirked a brow for a couple moments and shrugged. He kinda liked the feel of this room. It was bright enough to feel almost toasty with the shade it left on the walls. But not so bright as to be creepy with that exploited feeling.

Feeling like you've actually found a temporary safe spot in the hideout, was hard, & felt like finding a bottle of water in the desert. He glanced around the room, and saw a little bar-stool-like chair over by the north wall. He picked it up and blew the dust off the seat and placed it back on its legs and planted himself there on it. And just peered out a nearby basement window at the ceiling level, but at dirt level from above.

[Shaun Klein]

Add: The evening was cold. The draft was whistling and thick. sometimes it even blew at his hair side to side, which felt funny and looked like windshield wipers since his bangs were straight. His eyes were in the middle of stages. Earlier that day he had come face-to-face with a preteen child and a adult man walking through the woods. So of course the man lashed out physically at Shaun. Basically trying to kill him right in-front of the child. Which was insane these days, seeing the humans not even care if they're future generation is violently influenced if its violence against the infected or each other. It was brutal, in his opinion. Thus leaving his eyes now between the metallic white-blue and hazel.

He sighed deeply. Living infected was sometimes just so damn much to handle. The idea of dying would often cross the infected mind, across all of our minds. Not suicide primarily, but the idea of being killed out in the 'real' world by a vengeful or angry human. It was like the humans all took out the anger pain and suffering violence they might have on the infected. It was nonsense. And inescapable.

Suppose that the odd human was of the right mind to not hate the infected. But really, if any other human knew, they were just as good as dead. Just as vulnerable as any infected. Besides House though apparently. For it seemed like that guy just kept on doing his things and none of the other humans cared or had any interest. Which was alright ..apparently. For the time being anyways.

[Joelle Sanders]

Joelle wandered aimlessly through the many halls and secrets of the hideout. She liked the idea that she would randomly stumble upon an area she had never been to before and begin a whole new adventure. As she passed a brightly lit room, movement caught the corner of her eye. She stopped and backed up, her feet propelling her backwards and causing her to lose her balance and fall. As she landed, she smacked her head on the door frame leading into the room. Her eyes, now completely white were squeezed shut in pain and she bit her lip to keep from crying out.

Jo exhaled a shaky breath and felt something trickle down her forehead. As she raised her hand to touch the warm sticky liquid she already knew what it would be. She groaned when she opened her eyes and saw the red stain on her fingertips. Blood left her nauseaus (sp?) and in need of the nearest barf bag. As the pain already began subsiding, she shook her head slowly and tried to stand up.

(sorry its so short..brain lock )