(Untitled)

[wither_wilt]

One of the things that will never get old for Salah is the view of the sky without all the light pollution. He's spent most of his life in cities with heavy smog. Stars should always be celebrated! They are so shiny

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[applepieless]

Beth looks up, and frowns a little, "We can call it first star on the right, how about that?"

She's crossed her arms over her chest, dress moving in the slight breeze. She's used to stars.

[applepieless]

Glancing down, Beth reaches for the first solid thing she can find, a long piece of plywood that looked like it used to board up the nearest storefront.

"See the stars, he says." She rolls her eyes fondly, hefting the wood. "A chance to grab my ass and get me eaten by zombies is what he's really after. You going to help or just stand there?"

There's five of them, Beth counts. But with shambles you can't ever bee too sure. Bracing her legs, she takes aim for a zombie head.

[wither_wilt]

"I was hopeful to drop things on their heads and grope you a bit more, but if you insist."

He kicks at the closest zombie that is walking off kilter on a broken ankle. The ankle comes off. Zombie goes down, still reaching for Salah. He stepped down on its head. Squish.

"Urg. I hate that sound."

[applepieless]

Beth whistles, 'take me out to the ballgame' as she slams the plank into a zombie's head, wincing away from the splatter.

"Shoulda, woulda, coulda. Can't let your cute ass get eaten while I flee to safety."

Glancing at the spread of zombies, she wishes she wasn't wearing a skirt: less chance of showing off your girlie parts to the undead.