Luna:
I walk in the forest looking for something to gather.I usually just gathered fruits and plants.After all I wouldn't dare hurt and animal.There was so many animals around me but I just looked for stuff like carrots or Strawberries.Occasionally I give an animal a strawberry.And in return they don't hunt me.

Spencer
I looked around the medical corner we had set up in the warehouse. It was dingy and rusty. It had items that were old and few that were new. I picked up a dusty pair of scissors and looked at them. I looked at the rubbing alcohol we had and the gauze we salvaged. We were in rough shape.

(omah glob. interesting.)

Name: Liam Price
Age: 20
Job: Hunter
Appearance/Description: Liam has ripped jeans, a depeche mode sweat shirt, light blue eyes, golden brown hair with dark green highlights on the tips,some cuts on his face, and lots of dirt.
Bio:Ever since the awakening, Liam's life turned upside down.Luckily, being skilled in Hunting, he made his way through chicago and got to this warehouse. Now only if he can get to the top of the warehouse chain, he'd be all set.

(bump.)

((Accepted!))

(Hi!)

((Hi! Rp?))

(Sure!)

Name: Alyssa Wright
Age: 20
Job: chef
Appearance/Description: Dark brown hair, dark almost black eyes , and slim
Bio: Alyssa loves to cook. She can make something delicious out of practically anything!

((Accepted!))
((I may decide to have longish posts here because I <3 apocalypse-like things))

( how do I start?)

((You can just have her cooking or something. Going about her daily life and stuff. Once we have more people, they'll have some visits by the evil Kann!))

(Awesome!)
Amaya
I hear something and I turn, pulling my bow back, ready. I spot a deer and I smile softly, following it with my arrow, waiting for the right moment to shoot.

Alyssa
I walk into the place that's supposed to be the kitchen... it's a mess! I start to neaten it up a bit

Spencer
I stare at the vials of blood that sit in test tube racks on a long, cheap table. It had a sample of blood from everyone in the warehouse inside, and the name and blood type of that person written in a dying Sharpie on the outside. I look at the crimson liquid that filled them all. I turn and look at the rusting gurneys we stole from an abandoned hospital. I then looked at my ratty Converse. The black turning grey after months of hard work. My backpack is slung over my shoulder. You never know who you can trust. We are all after one thing. Survival.