PSL: The Walking Dead
Jan. 31st, 2015 10:40 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
fivefingereddiscount[It's dusk, and the night is rapidly falling on the forest. The woods are, mercifully, still as the crickets begin to cautiously start their chorus. There is smoke and blood in the air, though, and the faint sounds of pained breathing barely muffled carries faintly on the breeze.
Garrett, dressed in leather armour like some medieval bandit, is sitting in middle of a ring of dead Walkers. His firepit smoulders, the flames having died down during the battle, and there is a thick branch dangling from an old tree by a thin strip of bark. He is sitting with one boot off, revealing the source of his apparent anguish: his foot is heavily bruised and badly swollen, likely broken.
Just my luck. I survive the apocalypse, and it's a tree that gets me.]
Garrett, dressed in leather armour like some medieval bandit, is sitting in middle of a ring of dead Walkers. His firepit smoulders, the flames having died down during the battle, and there is a thick branch dangling from an old tree by a thin strip of bark. He is sitting with one boot off, revealing the source of his apparent anguish: his foot is heavily bruised and badly swollen, likely broken.
Just my luck. I survive the apocalypse, and it's a tree that gets me.]
