[R1V] They Always Come Up Smiling

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    There was a time in my demented youth
    When somehow I suspected that the truth
    About survival after death was known
    To every human being: I alone
    Knew nothing, and a great conspiracy
    Of books and people hid the truth from me.

    This is open to anyone in the R1V RP who is in the Pacific Northwest area, specifically Washington State near the border with Canada. Currently, the Old Pine Motel is staffed by NPCs and one PC, my character Ayessa & is the biggest compound in the area.

    It's a warm day. Fog is muted, and the biters are about but not within the compound. There's a great view of the lake from the motel, and the horses are fed and safe.

    Feel free to stop by for the cookout, which is the event this thread is centered around. Bacon's definitely in the air. Or is that the charred zombies stuck to the electric fencing? It's unclear. Either way, smells good. Somewhat. If you're uncomfortable about having an in-character introduction session you can simply say you arrived earlier in the day and have already become integrated with the dynamics. I'll be NPCing the majority of OPM's core residents, which, counting my character, is around 9 faces. I'll try to keep things simple to track as with Markdown I can't just recolour text to clarify who's speaking. It also goes without saying that there are multiple story beats at work here and I have an underlying plot in mind for this entire group; so if that interests you, join the ride. And, yes, this thread is somewhat lacking in Sims elements. It's a work in progress on that frontier, but as RP is primarily word-driven, that doesn't change any of the writing happening here.

    "You know, you're never any fun."

    Ayessa was quick to turn her head as she heard the dry, matronly tone of Marian Lebowski, part-owner of the Old Pine Inn droned out something inconsequential to their youngest group member, a gruff highschooler named Zachary. He only ducked his head bashfully in response to the older woman's jab, "I'm not a good cook, that's all," He offered, glancing to the burned meat on his cheap grill, "And I wouldn't call this 'fun' anyway. I can be fun."

    It was with a rough huff and a sharp tsk sound leaving her mouth that Marian began to hustle her way into his cooking space, pudged fingers outstretched for the utensils and the platter of still-raw meat awaiting it's time, "City-slicker. Move over, let me try." Z surrendered the tongs to the more experienced proprietor, and simply shuffled off to the picnic tables to join the more idle woman sitting nearby, who watched the mist collect across the large still pool their land curved around.

    "I wouldn't worry," Ayessa offered with a smirk and idly poked his shoulder as he shifted to sit down, "You didn't totally ruin today. Just a little bit."

    "Gee, thanks." He slumped down with a harsh exhale, eyeing some of the new folk milling about the small turf field they had turned into their cookout space just by the main residential buildings. There was undoubtedly a certain guarded nervousness in the air concerning those they had let in for their goodwill exchange, talking and eating and drinking their watered-down beers and ignoring that awful burned smell wafting in from the fences, "Do you trust any of them?" Z asked as his dark eyes flicked to Ayessa, who only grinned and shrugged, "I'd like to. Nobody's started swinging bats yet. Must be a good sign. Had some people come a long way for this."

    A long way, indeed.

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