Daryl Dixon | The Walking Dead (crossbowed) wrote in madisonvalley, @ 2013-10-17 14:41:00 |
|
|||
Entry tags: | !log, !open, ~2013 october, ~~!35 points, ~~cesare borgia (for_family), ~~daryl dixon (crossbowed) |
WHO: Daryl Dixon and OPEN
WHAT: Zombie-proofing
WHEN: Thursday afternoon
WHERE: Outside the apartments
STATUS: OPEN/Ongoing
WARNINGS: Talk of Zombies
It was strange, having nothing to do. Back home, there was always hunting to do, raids to go on, Walkers to kill. And that was when stuff wasn't going to shit. What the hell did they expect him to do here, sit in his apartment and jerk off? Find some bullshit job? What qualifications did he have? He'd never even graduated high school, and he sure as hell wasn't spending his time here asking people if they wanted fucking fries with that. He'd never felt right cooped up like that, and the idea of working some 9-5 job where he had to clock in and clock out was something that very nearly terrified him.
Still, that didn't mean he was lazy, or that he wasn't wanting to do something good with his life, and his time here. That desire was what had him up early this morning, and out in the woods collecting limbs that he was gonna use to put pikes up around the entrances to the apartments. Pikes and gates, proofing against any Walkers that showed up. He'd come back to the apartments a couple of hours ago, and had spent the time sitting on the trunk of a car, whittling the ends of the sticks into points. It was easy work, but time consuming, and he was content now that he had a sense of purpose.
He heard footsteps on the stairs, but didn't look up, knowing by the quick, even and easy sound of them that it was a sentient human and not a Walker coming towards him.
"Hey," he called, sharpening the point a bit more. "Grab one and help me with this. It's your ass on the line, too."