op (maldito) wrote in rooms, @ 2014-03-29 03:21:00 |
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Entry tags: | !walking dead, *log, graham ross, shane alexander |
TWD: Shane A/Graham R
[Shane has no fucking idea where he is. One second he's watching TV in the black of his fucking tiny living room (and probably dozing off), cat on his lap, and the next, it's dawn, and he's peeling himself off the ground in a goddamn forest, moss sticking to the bare skin of his arms and neck. Dew beads in his eyelashes. He sits up with a curse, keeping his head, amazingly, and looks around. His bike is parked nearby, loaded up, somehow, some fucking way, with an old canvas bag of his, and some fucking guns and that's when Shane stands up, his bones creaking.
Only then does he notice he's not alone. The smell of the dead hasn't hit him yet, or the sounds. For now, all he sees is Graham, seemingly alive and well, thank fuck.] What the fuck is going on?