InsaneJournal

Who: rockstars Alison Blaire and Tabitha Smith; OPEN
What: Seeking asylum or refuge or what have you
When: Tuesday, late afternoon
Where: Front gates!
Rating: PG-13 for swearmouthing and sexuality




Snow fell softly as two slim figures danced down Greymalkin Lane. The girl out front had pushed the fur trimmed hood down on her coat to accommodate a fur-lined trapper hat that sat on her head like a crown. Her bouncing blond braid caught the sunlight so that it seemed golden. Despite the slight grubbiness of her face--it had been almost forty-eight hours since she'd bathed, such as it was--her blue eyes stood out sharply, an intense shock of color in a desaturated environment.

They'd taken it as a good sign when they'd reached plowed-looking roads, clear enough that Ali didn't need headphones and her powers for them to navigate. It had been three days since their truck had broken down. They'd spent the nights in abandoned homes. There'd been a scary moment when they'd found a walker locked in a car, but they dispatched it easily and fallen asleep in a nearby house, discussing whether it was safer to keep going or to try to salvage some parts and turn back for their truck.

But today they'd found cleared roads and just fifteen minutes ago, turned onto a road whose street sign was still visible--GREYMALKIN LANE--and there had been much rejoicing. They'd been singing all day, just to keep momentum up, but now they busted into some favorites. And there was dancing, too. In fact, Ali was absorbed in dancing to an enthusiastic cover of Bikini Kill when she looked up and realized they were there.

"Fuck!" Ali stopped dead and swung around to Tabby, "This is it."

There was a big hulking gate set in a big hulking wall, which seemed promising, and the pavement was clear despite the snow everywhere else. There were people here, alright. With a dubious look at Tabby, she approached the gate, whistling the first few bars of Rebel Girl under her breath.