Italy Romana | Chiara Vargas
27 November 2011 @ 10:00 pm

locked to housemates )

B; Around Mayfield, open

[Having found her housemates the next thing on Romana's agenda is to find her allies, her friends. Or even just to find anyone who needs help. So she had quickly started off to hunt for people, clutching a tattered jacket over her nightgown, flat shoes on her feet for once.]

Hello?! Hello?! Is anyone out there, anyone hurt?! Veneziano! Spagna! Ungheria! Canada, Paesi Bassi?! Anyone?


[They needed supplies. It was useless hiding out without supplies, and stubborn as ever Romana had headed out to find them. Anything she could find, bandages, cans of food, weapons, pieces of clothes, anything she could carry she had taken, making trips to her safe place to dump them.

It was in the middle of one of these trips that the hoard had arrived. Narrowly ducking the shotgun blast Romana scrambles into a sprint, whirling around to aim her own rifle back, one of the few guns she had managed to gather up. She doesn't miss, the thing (For that's all it could be, with skin like that, and a voice so ghastly, a thing, not human) going down. It's easily replaced though.

And then Romana fights. There's not really chance to flee, and her only choice is to hold her own as best she can, a pistol in one hand that she uses sparingly, only when the hunk of wood in the other, which she uses like a bat doesn't do the job fast enough. She's managing okay, for now, but who knows how long she'll last]