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Finn does prompt a slight chuckle out of Samuel, but he quickly masks it with a cough. “I hope we never have to…” he adds to the thought of cannibalism. “Isn’t that what caused mad cow disease? Cows eating other ground up cows… I know they ate other animals too, but regardless- prions and sponge brains and what not? We’d all die from eating each other…” And not because they’d be hunting each other, but because they would get fatally sicl. He finds he’s rambling a bit of useless information at this man and a warmth blossoms along his cheek bones. He clears his throat.
But yes, London. Back onto the topic of introductions and filler information so they can get to know each other on an amicable level. Samuel isn’t sure he’s ready to go on about the science of human flesh consumption any longer so he’s quite relieved that they steer off that topic. But London? Was that where Mariella is from? He wonders that but he doesn’t say it out loud. This man surely wouldn’t know her. It’s like assuming he knows every American in the country simply because they share the same country of origin.
“I’m sure you’ve gathered we’re not all so bitey… Americans, I mean. This - whatever it is - isn’t exclusive to… just us…?” Samuel trails off with his attempt at light humor realizing that he may as well be referring to the stranger’s home as a part of the infected population. It’s not so funny when he thinks of it like that.
Turns out he, Finn as Samuel learns, isn’t alone. Much to Samuel’s surprise Omaha is the home to several large groups. It’s fortunate they are all amicable and not up in arms with one another over supplies. Survival always works with a system, and even if the higher the population the more supplies that are needed can pose a problem, having more people to lean on outside your own fami- er, group, can be beneficial. Through trading and protection and a system of communication, Samuel believes that to be a reason why he’s seen so many living people in one area.
“So…” with a short exhale, Samuel blows a strand of his messy hair of his face. He looks to the bush he saw Finn pulling plant from. “You were… I mean, what’s that for? Is it medicinal?” Samuel knows nothing of botany or herbs and what not, so he can only ask in hopes he doesn’t sound completely dumb.
Samuel is incredibly endearing; quirky but not gimmicky and Finn appreciates that. The kid has a personality, unlike the fucking robots of ‘survival-only’ that he has come across every now and again. He’s the kind of bloke that would make it easy being his friend, although Finn worries for his survival with how timid he seems at times. Finn is simply entertained by how loosely words flow out of his mouth, as if his mouth moves too fast for his brain to catch up with. Finn wishes more people spoke first and thought later -- it can be a dangerous quality to have, Finn often does it too, but there’s someone genuine about it.
A chuckle shakes his shoulders at the mention of cannibalism, his head shaking slightly as he could feel his stance relax in front the stranger. “You don’t have to be a cannibal if ya don’t want to. That’s why I’m out here -- if we start growing food, we won’t ever have to starve like that.” Finn knew he needed to start now though, knowing certain foods wouldn’t begin sprouting until months after they start growing.
Finn remembers when the outbreak first started and it all seemed sectioned to America. However, it wasn’t long before it seemed it spread everywhere and when he was able to still reach his mother in London, she had revealed the odd behavior coming from those seemingly infected. Finn tried to brush away the thought of his mother holed up somewhere, in hiding...or worse..”Nah, it’s alright mate. I mean it's not ideal I’m here but it is what it is..” Samuel didn’t need to know just how much he hated being away from his mum. “I came here for a wedding for one of my best mates. It’s been nice seeing the country, even if it all fell to shit shortly after.”
At Samuel‘s short exhale and question of the herbs, Finn’s expression lifted to something more excitable. Oddly enough, he liked talking about this stuff. It was currently as close as he could get to what he loved to do. “I’m a Chef. Or, was one. I don’t know.” He shrugged, now lifting some of the healthier looking mint sprigs. “I don’t know a lot about medicine but I do know a lot about herbs and what they can do for the body. I was wanting to check out the library camp and see if they’d allow me to look for any books about using herbs as medicine for minor injuries. Like I know mint is good with digestion so I could make it a simple dried tea or I could make it an oil. You can actually use mint as a bug repellant or for minor scrapes.”
He looked about the land nearest them and shrugs again, his nose scrunching in thought. “I wanna start looking for land we could use to grow food. Like if someone managed to have good soil so we don’t have to start from scratch to start growing food. I guess I’m just sort of exploring right now.”
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“The apocalypse has hit so hard we’re going back to the whole hunting and gathering shit? Hunting biters, gathering people’s half-dead plants,” she deadpans when she happens upon Finn. Despite her sarcasm, though, she has to give him some credit: While most loot through abandoned homes and malls and grocery stores, hardly anyone bothers to look at the ground, what the Earth gives them. Finn, apparently, is a rare one that does.
She crouches down, plucking a mint spring and twisting it between her fingers, clicking her tongue at its appearance. It seems unusual, perhaps, for a woman like Elodie to be deliberating over the state of mint, but it’s a reminder of better days, when she could pick fresh herbs from pots on her windowsill. She’s never had the patience or time or money for pets ( save for a fish in fifth grade ), but plants seem to suit her just fine. Succulents sat on the shelves of her room back in SF, hanging plants from the ceiling in the kitchen, and flowers bloom in the corner of the living room. They all brought their personal touch to their apartment in the bay; Elodie’s was a green thumb and a heavy dose of realism bordering on pessimism.
She’s not surprised the plant in her hand has been neglected; whoever planted it is probably dead or a zombie. “What’re you gonna do with it?”
Glancing up at the familiar voice, he smirks to himself as he continues plucking. Sure, it made sense most would deem him insane for staying outdoors to scavenge rather than head for a nearby home or store to loot. Truthfully, the thought of living off canned food for the rest of his life was what brought him out here; at some point those canned foods would run out and they’d need plotted land and fresh food to grow. Besides, if it were up to Finn, they’d use fresh vegetables and fruits primarily and only use canned if absolutely necessary. God forbid they were ran out by intruders or a season of grown food rotted or went bad. Jesus, this spiraling thought process was already getting out of hand.
“What can I say? Gettin’ real caveman-esque ‘round here. Feeling my inner Homo Sapien.” He watched as she grew close, not feeling like he needed to prepare himself in any way. It was the nice thing about being part of a camp and seeing a camp member outside the walls. He didn’t feel like he needed to keep a close hand on his gun or knife.
“Well the ones that aren’t rotted, if I gather enough, I’m gonna dry it if I can. Some of them are wet from the snow or rain so we’ll see.. Maybe make a loose leaf tea or maybe I can use it at some point to make it an oil. It’s good on bug bites and skin irritation. If we can start to use plants as medicine in certain cases, like minor stomach issues and headaches, we would cut our use on our supply of medication.” He was rambling, realized as soon as he stopped, a chuckle escaping his lips. “I’m a smart guy, ya know..” A playful smirk lifted to the corners of his lips as he glanced over at her.
Anonymous asked:
do you miss london?
“Of course, mate, of course. It’s hard being away, not knowing anything about my surroundings. Thank god I speak English but it’s still a different sort of way of life at times. Not by much, I know, but I just know it’d be easier to be back home. It’s...” It’s hard to bring up, hard to think about the fact that as desperate as he is, he can’t reach his mom now. “I worry for my mum every single day. I just hope she found family or friends to help keep her safe. For now, all I can focus on is looking out for myself and my sister.”
Anonymous asked:
guilty pleasure tv show
“Alright, well…no shame, I suppose..I enjoy a really good reality show. Like Made In Chelsea, although the posh fuckers can really annoy the fuck outta me at times. I think I just enjoy watching rich people whine about the smallest of things. Or, like, when people have so much money that they know they can do whatever they want with no repercussions. And oh man, the more staged it looks, the better. Absolutely ridiculous.”
Anonymous asked:
what's your favorite dish to make
“Sorry to those who don’t eat meat because this one has pork and fish in every direction. So restaurants usually have a sort of chef’s special every week or so and I had gotten in a shipment of these amazing, fresh Scallops from Orkney, in Scotland. I started testing a few distinct flavors with it and came out with a Roasted Orkney Scallops with a garlic pesto drizzle and crispy pig’s trotter topped with truffled pork fat. It was, I mean… incredible and I ended up putting it on the menu full time. It was one of my first dishes where I really got to explore and form my own creation. It’s not necessarily my most favorite to make but it had fond memories. Otherwise, I make a mean stew when it’s raining outside and all you wanna do is watch movies. I’ll always enjoy cooking comfort foods.”
Anonymous asked:
have you ever made shark fin soup?
“I’m not very well versed in Chinese or Vietnamese cuisines but I see what you’re trying to do.”
Anonymous asked:
are you sometimes tempted to steal from your own camp?
“No.” It was definitive and confident, eyes narrowing momentarily in thought. “I understand people get desperate but this has only just started. We still have supplies and we’re doin’ pretty well. Even if things got scarce later on, I’d like to think I’m the type of person who wouldn’t do something like that. The only thing I can honestly say I might do is if my sister was sick and I needed something to save her.” He couldn’t bear to think of his sister ill. “I mean, at the end of the day, a camp is meant to protect each other, right? Karma would get me real good, wouldn’t it?”
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Heartland Honesty Day!
Here’s how it works: instead of doing a few hours where only a few people in the accommodating timezone can play, Honesty Day, well, lasts all day! From 12 AM EST Wednesday to 12 AM EST Thursday, you may send and receive anons (or off anon, be brave) to all participating members. To participate, reblog this post onto every character you want to be in the game and only send questions to those who have reblogged this post. Include everyone who wants to play. No hate will be tolerated and you are not required to answer any questions that upset you, but other than that, go hog wild and have tons of fun all gosh darn day!
eudaimcnia-blog reblogged
Matilde never felt more exposed in her life than when venturing outside the compound. The way anxiety coursed through her veins, she felt like her heart would stop from shock as a crow cawed overhead and made her shoulders jump back. She hated to be outside. She hated the apocalypse. She hated Omaha. She hated everything about her life at the moment but being outside? Top of the list. Apparently doling out supplies wasn’t pulling her weight enough and Mattie ( in sneakers! ) ventured outside with a scavenger to help find things they didn’t already have back at home—she had a great eye for products, after all, they were practically her whole life before.
Matilde hadn’t come across many other survivors that she didn’t already live with, nor had she had many encounters with the undead, so when she came across a figure, her natural instinct was to hide. Shit. What was she supposed to do? Run? Charge at them? Just pray that the earth would open up and swallow her up on the spot? Peaking out from behind the wall, Matilde didn’t mean to yelp in surprise when the figure seemed to have seen her. Apparently stealth wasn’t a skill that money could buy.
Finn didn't mind going outside much, not when looking at the same walls and same people day after day could cause a bit of claustrophobia for him. For now, people were working together and mostly keeping quiet, especially with how new everything was. Nobody wanted to be the arsehole who caused a scene or made things tense in camp but Finn could still feel that hesitant tension. Of course that new, awkward feeling was bound to dissipate but it was just a matter of when. So, getting to go outside ( even if for a few minutes ) was a welcomed part of his every few days. With the slower introduction to spring, he was just waiting for the flowers to begin blooming that would tell him it was appropriate to start planting. The least amount of Costco pre-packaged food they consume, the better. Finn had been a chef, for fucks sake; he was excited for the day that he could cook his campmates a real fucking dinner.
Seeing the familiar dark hair of his camp-mate and fellow Provisioner, he realized by her small yelp that she hadn’t recognized him at first. Wearing a hat, he didn’t blame her. Besides, he had only arrived in camp only about two weeks prior and having been so focused on his sister and job, he hadn’t necessarily extended himself to make friends. He cautiously made his way over, a smile lifting to his features when he reached her. “Hey, don’t worry. It’s just me.” He nodded his head, then wondered if she actually remembered his name. “Finn..”
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The powerful stench of lemon Lysol consumes the ten by ten foot space she called her office though Ophelia hardly notices, body already accustom to the fumes. A dirty floor’s the least of her problems, yet there she was. On hands and knees scrubbing as if her life depended on it. Her mind a thousand miles away as she feverishly brushes at a spotless floor. With all five of their medics bedridden due the flu she spent most of the last couple days manning the infirmary solo. She didn’t mind, not even a little bit. In fact Ophelia felt more comfortable among the cots, medical supplies, and medicine than she did anywhere else on camp but she couldn’t help but worry. The flu by nature was contagious and while she’d only recorded eight cases so far including the five medics. There was no telling how bad things could get if it spread. Lost in thought, it’s the sound of thunderous footsteps approaching that force a pause in her repetitive movements. “The floor’s wet,” she warns almost immediately. “So don’t run into here unless you want to slip.”
It had only been two or three weeks since he joined the camp and he was finally beginning to remember each person’s name without hesitation. However, even with the names, he still hadn’t fully gotten to know anyone. He was so focused on making sure his sister was okay and he was doing his job that he realized he hadn’t actually been trying to know people. It was hard, given he had no idea how all of this was meant to work. These people wouldn’t have otherwise met if it hadn’t been for all of this and now they were all forced together, pressured to ‘make it work’. Finn was a team player, of course, but it was still a lot to get used to. Walking into the room, he spotted Ophelia on the ground, hesitating a moment before slowly making his way towards her. “Let me give ya a hand.” He crouched down, now grabbing for the other scrubber from the small bucket. “Ya alright?” With Ophelia being their camp leader and with so many sick, he could only imagine the pressure she was under.
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the thing movies and tv shows never prepared mateo when it came to the apocalypse is that it’s boring as fuck. of course, he’s aware that there’s no shortage of things – human or otherwise – that can kill him, but without the mass hysteria of the early days of the pandemic, the empty streets can almost be peaceful –– as long as he doesn’t dwell on the fact that it’s only quiet because most of the population is dead. after almost three months, the survivors of omaha have settled into some sort of routine, which is good for them, he supposes, but it leaves mateo with a distinct lack of things to do.
no longer are his days filled with purpose, scouring the city for survivors and making sure they get to a camp safely; it had been anthony’s idea, of course, because if his foster father had one defining characteristic it would be his refusal to abandon anyone who needed help. but now the only people who had yet to join a camp are people like him, people who have made the choice to reject community. loyalties are fickle in times like these, and mateo does not bear the same faith in humanity as his foster father once did. which is why his guard is up when he spots the hunched figure. there’s some relief when he gets close enough to be able to tell that the man is human, but throughout his life people have fucked him up more than any of the undead ever have, and so he continues with caution.
the man doesn’t seem to notice his approach, and mateo knows that the worst thing to do is to startle someone who is armed. he doesn’t see any weapons on the man, these days it’s unlikely for a person to not at least have a knife on them and being stabbed is not an experience he’s eager to repeat, thank you very much. ‘ did you find a pot dealer’s stash ? ’ he jokes, stopping a couple of feet behind the man ( out of stabbing range ). just because he is wary of strangers doesn’t mean he shows it. mateo’s not a fan of confrontation unless absolutely necessary, and only if he can’t disarm them with a little charm –– that’s rarely the case, and he knows he’s got his youth and good looks to thank for that. even at the end of the world, people can be surprisingly superficial. how fucking depressing, really, although he doesn’t complain too much as long as it works in his favour.
Maybe having a buddy-system in place for situations like these were for the best. Many could say he was an idiot for coming out on his own like this to study plants, bent over, without having someone covering his front. Regardless, here he was. How many ways could he die nowadays? Coulda, woulda, shoulda -- he refused to become so obsessed with his survival that he needs a tag-a-long buddy at every corner. Truthfully, he’d choose his sister but the thought of putting his sister in any sort of danger was enough to set him off.
Alas, here he was, in conquest to find areas of Omaha that might deem useable for growing crops. It was still too cold, sure, but this small crop of mint seemingly grown in doors before being planted outside in hopes spring would arrive sooner rather than later was a promising start. Surprise, it’s still too fucking cold to do much of anything. Still, whatever hasn’t rotten could be potentially dried. Finn had interest in growing herbs for medicinal purposes alongside cooking to avoid using medication as frequently -- how very fucking holistic millennial of him; if only Instagram could see him now -- but it’d take time for him to decide what would be dire need to grow. Still, he needed to do it sooner rather than later because when winter came around next year, they needed enough to survive on.
Tucking the bag inside his pack, he turned to begin leaving when he noticed the lad in front of him. Finn instinctively smirked, a slight chuckle shaking his shoulders. “If only, huh? Heard Colorado was good for it, maybe we should have moved there.” He teased before pointing to the mostly dead crop at his feet. “It was just some mint that looked like it was brought out here to continuing growing. Whoever did it was premature, I guess, thinking spring was coming in.” He eyed him a few seconds before looking off, up the road. “ You passing through or...?“
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naoko bristled at childhood memories of broken shopping trips to costco. it was a warehouse of her mother’s wildest wet dreams and contained little entertainment for a sullen, angry girl short of free kashi go lean bar samples and harry potter compendiums. shopping trips had always felt like a punishment. now, she supposed, she ought to be a little more fuckin’ grateful that the place hadn’t just been looted and rolled over on until the supplies were wasted.
like a curious cat, naoko was not entirely in fear of venturing further from home each day and she had been casing the costco camp for several days from afar. not particularly militant or interested specifically in spying on the place, it seemed to be as good a past time as any after a guard shift to see what sort of people the camp attracted and what other survivors outside of her small community did with their time.
she is nimble and small of build and while not entirely deliberate in following the man as he searched around town, naoko was more than happy to tag along at a safe distance to see what sort of things he was looking for–her hands shoved deep into the worn black leather pockets of her jacket. after witnessing his assessment of the dilapidated foliage, naoko chose to draw more attention to herself ( if he hadn’t noticed her already ), and called out to him. “looks pretty dead, my dude.” a dark humor tugged at her lips. “are you guys that hard up or just run out of churros?”
Having only been in town for about two weeks or so, Finn still wasn’t entirely familiar with both his surroundings or the people. He only just felt like he was remembering the names of those in his camp, let alone knowing anyone outside of it. It was really still a learning lesson for all of them, having heard that it wasn't long before Finn and his sister arrived that this place had been built up. While fairly organized, it was still clear that the camps had a lot to figure out together.
While a team player, a skill he obviously knew he needed being an Executive Chef, there were still things he wanted needed to do on his own. Scouring for useful plot land, watching what grew in the surrounding area and just how the seasons would affect it all. Never having been to the US, Finn knew that weather would be his enemy with his desire to grow food. If he wanted to prepare and plant and have enough dring the winter months, he needed to figure out his system sooner rather than later, especially with the now introduction to spring ( as still god damn frigid as it was ).
He had heard the crunching of footsteps and the voice -- ‘my dude’, ha -- and glanced over his shoulder to view her. Cute. “You guys?” He cocked a brow, looking around himself to point out he was alone. “Who else are ya talking ‘bout?” She couldn’t just assume he was part of a group, though maybe it was obvious. At the mention of churro’s, he cocked a brow, now facing her completely as he eyed her. In another situation, it’d be funny that she knew how many boxes of those kinds of products are inside Costco -- churros, pretzels, mini pizza, pizza rolls, microwavable dumplings -- but he’s more focused on the stalker bit of it first.
“Trying to see what will grow ‘round here. Trying to see if I can dry these to make something with ‘em.” His eyes narrowly momentarily before a small, mischievous smirk rose to the corners of his lips. “I know I’m a good lookin’ bloke but stalking isn’t really my turn-on. I gotta list I can give ya but that wouldn’t appear on it, babes.”
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The first thing Samuel notices, aside from the knife in his hand, is his accent. It reminds him briefly of Mariella’s, and it causes for Samuel to wonder how many people in Omaha were from all different corners of the world. Nothing like a zombie takeover to bring them all together! It still sounds lonely. Samuel doesn’t say so, he doesn’t want to trigger any longing thoughts about family so far away. Wherever the man is from it’s much further than Nevada, or even Texas, Samuel’s sure.
The stranger visibly relaxes, and Samuel swallows a dry lump in his throat as the knife no longer poses a threat. The blade could’ve been glinted red if he really didn’t watch his step. Fortunately, neither one of them seems to have any malicious intent whatsoever. “Yeah, I-I… uh, should’ve been more careful…” he shrugs a bit helplessly, thankful for the umpteenth time since the start of this year that fate had it he wasn’t going to be dying today. Not at the hands of this man, he thinks. He sighs and laughs nervously, shrugging and trying for some form of cynical humor, “I don’t want to be taking your body parts, there not useful to me, that’s for sure.”
The question posed has Samuel open his mouth and then shut it immediately. Is that information he’s supposed to give out? Being so new knows very little about the possibility of peace agreements and ties to all the camps around. He hadn’t heard anything about any tensions so it can’t cause any harm. “I, uh, definitely wouldn’t be alive if I were on my own… I’m from, ah…” he turns on his heel and looks back in a random direction. With a vague gesture towards wherever the library would be - he’d have a fun time navigating these foreign streets to get back later - Samuel says, “Up that way. Somewhere over there.”
Samuel’s dark eyes filter back on the man as he rubs at his arm nervously. “And you’re not from there, s-so that means you’re from…?” he inquires dumbly. But before there’s a chance to answer, he clicks his tongue against the back of his teeth and holds a hand, the one not holding his bat, out. “I’m Samuel. You know, if we’re in the same area then it makes us like neighbors, yeah?”
There was so much fear running through everyone that Finn hadn’t seen how ugly humanity could be just yet. When supplies began running out or weapons became scarce, Finn knew people would only grow more and more desperate with each passing day. People were still cautious, maybe even still helpful, and Finn wondered when that would start to deteriorate.
So far, everyone Finn has met in Omaha seems pleasant enough. There were no big, loud personalities that caused him to feel threatened, which he was incredibly thankful for. Samuel seemed like a nice enough lad, if not a little jittery. He was honest, maybe even too much so, knowing the threat he could face admitting he’d never survive on his own. So, he was part of a camp; that was useful. It felt easier to connect to him knowing they were all part of this little society together, even if in separate spaces. At his odd comment about not taking his body parts, Finn half-snorted, half chuckled. He jokingly made a relieved face before a smirk lifted to the corners of his lips. “That’s good to hear, mate. Not sure we need to resort to cannibalism just yet.” Finn’s jokes were often a bit crude but, well, fuck it. Hopefully the guy would realize he was only kidding.
Finn then noticed Samuel’s hesitancy to reveal his location. Fair enough. How many times has Finn done the same? He hated to admit where he lived, hated to think that if he gave that information away one day, he’d be the reason why the camp would be attacked. Costco was already sought after because of supplies to begin with.
He nodded, another smile lifting to his features. “I’m from London, yeah. Definitely not from ‘round these parts. Never even been to the States before this.” He could feel his heart sink just a little at hearing the words out loud, hated knowing he most likely wouldn’t get back home; at least not for a long, long time. He offered a kind smile, grasping the man’s hand in his with a firm shake. “It‘s a pleasure, Samuel. I’m Finn.” He let his hand fall back to his side, a slight chuckle and nod before meeting his gaze again. “Suppose so. I’m not far up the road either. I’m in a camp too, with my sister.”
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sotick