Crowley (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
goesdown) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
entrancelogs2013-11-22 06:49 pm
goesdown) wrote in entrancelogs2013-11-22 06:49 pm
Hell is other people [Open]
Who: Crowley and OPEN
Where: All over
When: Through the course of the zombie event
Rating: PG13, may change to R
Summary: Crowley is human and zombies are terrible
Note: If you prefer action spam, tag me with it and I'll match you. If you'd like to do something other than the scenarios here, just let me know!
The Story:
Day 1
The first thing Crowley notices on waking is that he seems to have passed out. He's been known to sleep for leisure here, but passing out isn't common at all. As he opens his eyes, he notices that he's hungry at the same time that he notices he's in a cell. Fantastic.
Later, once he's found his way out of it, he wanders the halls. There's got to be an awful penitentiary cafeteria here somewhere.
Of course, that's when he hears the groan. Torn, he goes to investigate and rounds a corner straight into a small gathering of three walkers.
"And me without my lipstick..."
Day 2
Crowley's found his way outside to snow. It's not exactly his favorite thing as a demon, but now it's downright deadly. Lucky for him, he's managed to steal some extra clothing from a dead body here and there. He hasn't bothered to look at faces, but he's wondered in the more quiet moments if they weren't mansion-dwellers, rather than walkers.
In the snow, he can't see far and the sound of the wind whipping around him covers up most natural noise. As he trudges on, he can't help worry that there could be a walker scarcely twenty feet away in any direction and he wouldn't have a clue.
He grips his lead pipe and trudges on, not even sure where he's going.
Day 3
By the end of the second day, Crowley had found his way to the woods, thankful for the safe place to sleep. Climbing a tree hadn't been easy, but he'd felt safe there, at least, to catch a few hours.
By the time he wakes up, the snow is already melting, leaving muddy puddles that make for easy tracks that he hopes the zombies don't have the mental capacity to follow or understand. At least now he can see where others might have been, though he'd rather avoid anyone than risk finding more walkers.
Day 4
Early in the morning, just as the sun is coming up, Crowley stumbles onto the small farm. He's in torn and muddied clothes that aren't his own and he's starving and exhausted.
He wants this event to be over and he's practically praying for it, even though he knows that there's no one listening--not to anyone and certainly not to him.
Unsure of who or what might even be inside, he falls to his knees and then collapses on the porch with a heavy thud.
Where: All over
When: Through the course of the zombie event
Rating: PG13, may change to R
Summary: Crowley is human and zombies are terrible
Note: If you prefer action spam, tag me with it and I'll match you. If you'd like to do something other than the scenarios here, just let me know!
The Story:
Day 1
The first thing Crowley notices on waking is that he seems to have passed out. He's been known to sleep for leisure here, but passing out isn't common at all. As he opens his eyes, he notices that he's hungry at the same time that he notices he's in a cell. Fantastic.
Later, once he's found his way out of it, he wanders the halls. There's got to be an awful penitentiary cafeteria here somewhere.
Of course, that's when he hears the groan. Torn, he goes to investigate and rounds a corner straight into a small gathering of three walkers.
"And me without my lipstick..."
Day 2
Crowley's found his way outside to snow. It's not exactly his favorite thing as a demon, but now it's downright deadly. Lucky for him, he's managed to steal some extra clothing from a dead body here and there. He hasn't bothered to look at faces, but he's wondered in the more quiet moments if they weren't mansion-dwellers, rather than walkers.
In the snow, he can't see far and the sound of the wind whipping around him covers up most natural noise. As he trudges on, he can't help worry that there could be a walker scarcely twenty feet away in any direction and he wouldn't have a clue.
He grips his lead pipe and trudges on, not even sure where he's going.
Day 3
By the end of the second day, Crowley had found his way to the woods, thankful for the safe place to sleep. Climbing a tree hadn't been easy, but he'd felt safe there, at least, to catch a few hours.
By the time he wakes up, the snow is already melting, leaving muddy puddles that make for easy tracks that he hopes the zombies don't have the mental capacity to follow or understand. At least now he can see where others might have been, though he'd rather avoid anyone than risk finding more walkers.
Day 4
Early in the morning, just as the sun is coming up, Crowley stumbles onto the small farm. He's in torn and muddied clothes that aren't his own and he's starving and exhausted.
He wants this event to be over and he's practically praying for it, even though he knows that there's no one listening--not to anyone and certainly not to him.
Unsure of who or what might even be inside, he falls to his knees and then collapses on the porch with a heavy thud.