Tori cast a glance to Ty as he spoke, and as she contemplated her answer, studied him. She’d never really liked dreads, most of the people she met with them were dirty and their hair looked more like frayed, burnt ropes of thick yarn, but he seemed to keep his hygiene. Even in the post-apocalyptic world of the undead. Absently, she reached up to her own hair. Tugging the rubber bands, she loosened them and let her hair down. The bands grabbed a lot, making her head hurt faster, and it would feel much nicer allowing the breeze to ruffle it out.

“Hm...” She put a finger to her mouth, twisting the rubber bands around her hand. “I like this world better.” She finally admitted. “I mean, I was a borderline convict when... order... reigned. I didn’t like society’s thoughts and what they considered right and wrong, and they didn’t like my so-called radical beliefs and my rough past. Apparently people nowadays figure your past makes you who you are now, and if you come from a messed up, war-torn world of daily fighting and famine, you’ll try to cause war among everyone, even when you leave that place. But now, I can use my talents to my advantage. I’m skilled with a gun, started learning when I was five, and a blade, especially an axe or other heavy-bodied thing. Since I lost my sense of smell and taste because I was forced to breathe the harsh smoke of oil fires, I don’t have to deal with the stink of rotting bodies and the horrible taste of bad food when we can dredge it up. And being alone for extended periods of time doesn’t bother me, because I’d gotten used to it.”

When she paused, Tori glanced to Tyrod again. She hadn’t meant to reveal as much as she had, but it was all right there, floating in the open, and Ty had heard it all. Shaking her head, making her hair whip around her, she turned her gaze on the blade in her hand. It was completely saturated in dark, coagulated blood, but it wouldn’t dull the blade. It wouldn’t slow it down, either, so she left it alone. “Probably boring you, ain’t I?” Tori chuckled, shouldering the axe and kicking a large rock on the road. “Sorry about that. Don’t usually talk about my past, that’s not what you asked, anyway. Long story short, yeah, I feel like I belong in a place like this. I’m a survivor. Besides, if I’m killed, at least I know I died fighting, even if no one else will ever know I existed.” She looked down. A melancholy smile was on her face. It seemed Tori’s mind always went back to that subject, of when she dies, or if she dies, what she will have left behind, if anything, or nothing at all. Even if her deeds are lost in the pages of history, she at least made a mark there.

Tori glanced at him. He wasn’t bored? With her talking so much about herself and not asking about him? She shook the thought away. Though she wasn’t usually so open with her past, it wasn’t as if many people would be interested in using it against her, or pegging her as this or that. But she didn’t want to seem as though she was prodding. She didn’t need to know much about her companion. That he was a good fighter, and someone who didn’t want to kill her, was enough information for her. And she had to admit to herself, Tyrod was appealing. Both to conversation and to the eye.

She couldn’t stand him sometimes. He was so annoying, so desiring silence and stealth when force and noise was necessary, or holding completely different plans than hers that couldn’t be negotiated either way. But, Tori wasn’t stupid. She knew he probably thought she was just as bad, or worse. She was a fiery spirit that didn’t like her judgment questioned, that was just how she was, adapted for war so others would take her seriously while under fire or when she gave direction. Force was usually what was required, and she left the stealth to the snipers. Tyrod would have been a good sniper, she noted silently, glancing through her hair at him. Quick, quiet, calculating, perhaps good with a precision rifle.

“Anyone else in the world would be pushing it.” Tori said at last. “I mean, I’m not that old yet, there are a hell of a lot more veterans out there more battle-ready than I was. But it helps.” She chuckled, then her face grew stony, her two-toned blue eyes moving to watch as Tyrod spoke, then looked to the road. His question caught her off guard, and she moved her hair back so he would see the look of mixed surprise and suspicion she cast toward him.

“Hmm.” She decided to think about her answer quickly. She actually had, once, been in love. A man about her age, perhaps a few months older, she couldn’t remember the month he told her when they met. But he was strong both in body and mind, quick on his feet and soft-spoken, more used to receiving orders rather than giving, and preferring not to take the lead of any group or team. He’d had blonde hair, not terribly long and swept back, with the brightest green eyes that she swore glowed in the dark at night. He had a few scars, a few tattoos, nothing too large on his darkly-tanned body, and didn’t usually get in the way of others. He did his job, and never complained about their situation. He was just happy to be helping, and he had a large family waiting for his return. She loved that about him. He was the opposite of her, a mellow, easy-going thing that just took situations as they came, but appreciated Tori for her quick switches and loud, presence-demanding personality. Even her slightly raspy voice, he’d said, caught him immediately. But he’d died in a roadside bomb during an evening sweep of the countryside, an explosion Tori had witnessed from just fifty yards away. And she swore she would never forget his name: Ty Roday.

“No, I’ve never been in love.” She said at last. The outright lie made her cringe inside, but he already knew too much about her. She didn’t want to bring up past loves, be it only one in her past, but it was one she had been devastated by, and she’d told herself she wouldn’t do that again.

Tori had made herself run her fingers over the skull and crossbones of her black choker, something she did when her hands weren’t busy with her axe, gun, or defensive moves. She was a pretty convincing liar, but at that point felt she’d let something go that was... wrong. And it probably let Ty in on the fact she wasn’t telling the truth. But he didn’t seem to want to prod any deeper than that. For a moment she worried, for the first time, that she’d made too strong an impression on him. Tori certainly was someone that couldn’t be overlooked, her presence in a room or crowd was always loud and demanding, even if she didn’t intend it to be. That was just her personality. Of course, her choice of style was something to be noted as well. She preferred leather-bases and vests, heavy boots that intimidated and added a few inches of height to her stance. Her vest, today a black, low-cut zip-up leather thing, showed off her tattoos: A black scorpion on the right arm, a black wolf on the left shoulder, and a skull on her chest. Her pants were snakeskin-style leather that gave her boots room to move.

Her eyes widened when Tyrod spoke again. “I think a sniper rifle would fit you easily.” She said. “A perfect design for someone like you. You desire stealth and shadow, and the sniper needs to be quick, accurate, and quiet to take out his targets.” She glanced at him. and grinned. “You know, from the radio transmissions from the town we’re headed to, it’s obvious there was a military base set up there, probably in one of the mansions since most are surrounded by tall gates. You’ll have a nice selection of weapon from their portable armory, it’s probably in an armored truck about the size of a small U-Haul.” She paused, thinking back. “Oh! They might have explosives as well, grenades and launchers, we could use those to our advantage, make some ruckus away from us then pick the swarmers off from afar.” She rubbed her hands together, the breeze ruffling both the dry grass and her hair across her face. “Good idea, if I say so myself.”

She looked at her rifle, still draped over her shoulder. She needed something else, something more accurate than a rifle. And maybe something stronger, more... automatic. She did love the automatic rifles, quick in shot and extremely accurate, save for the speed of the shots that, if in an inexperienced hand, could go erratic and lose control. Looking down the road, in the complete, yet cloudy, stillness, she could see the gate that surrounded the town, barred even stronger from the army men and women who took up residence and possibly got too full of themselves.