stateofdecay | Backstory Scenes

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Backstory Scenes

This is a space to post any scenes for your character which are set before October 1st, 2013. Scenes submitted for specific mod prompts such as "first meetings" will count towards a small narrative reward for all involved characters, but all backstory scenes are welcome!

🧟 First Meetings: Share scenes of your characters meeting (or re-meeting) for the first time after the world ended. This can be the first notable one-on-one interaction the characters had rather than the literal first time they met if it's more dramatically compelling!
🧟‍♀️ Other Scenes: What else have your characters been up to?
🧟‍♂️ OOC: Plotting & Scene Requests 
🧟 OOC: Other Chatter

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Edited 2024-09-19 03:19 (UTC)

BEFORE ▪ LOCAL BAR IN TRUMBLE CO, WA ▪ 5:30 pm

It’d been another long day, but you wouldn’t catch Quaid complaining. He’d been busy up until closing time, but knew that the double-wide would sit empty for a few more hours until Dafne and Mikayla were done with the latter’s dance rehearsal. With that in mind he’d gotten in his truck and driven to the local watering hole for a drink and a conversation to tide him over until “his girls” were free once more. It wasn’t that the grown ass man couldn’t spend time to his lonesome, though much preferred to be around the company of others.

So there he sat, having shortly ago been greeted with a rousing chorus of “Quaid!” and “Marv!” when he walked in before retiring to a corner of the bartop and ordering a beer before he set about people watching. The half dozen or so inhabitants of the bar were primarily of the older, day drinking crowd, but it was about that time others started trickling in.

This time an uproar of “Emmmettt!!” and “Em!” had him peering over his shoulder, eyes briefly landing on the man in question before returning to his drink with a smirk as he added his own “sonuvabitch” before taking a sip.

Emmett greeted the regulars with an assortment of hearty back slaps and "How are ya"s before making his way toward the empty seat next to a familiar face.

"Well, look what the cat dragged in," he teased Quaid cheerfully before turning to the bartender and ordering the usual. He then returned his attention to Quaid and asked, "How's business? How're the girls?"

Quaid liked to think the locals ‘round these parts were a decent sort, even if they weren’t especially welcoming to strangers. He personally was the type to shut down any bigoted bullshit that might have come out of oldtimers, though likewise wasn’t especially trusting to people he didn’t already know.

Good thing the lumberin’ oaf that sidled up next to him was a long-time acquaintance; friend even on a good day or when they occasionally went hunting together. “Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah,” he playfully roused, briefly tipping that ballcap in the other man’s direction to complete the hyperbolic welcome.

“Oh, you know, business is business. Did I tell you we can get that wagyu beef now whenever? Don’t even need to special order it.” The other would know this was a mouthful on the topic of himself, and of course there was more enthusiasm behind one of his undoubted favorite subjects. “They’re great. Kay’s got some dance recital next Wednesday and Daf’s helping with the costumes, so consider this your invite if one hasn’t already made it to your household.” Hey, he could now say he’d done his due diligence in telling Emmett about it.

“How’s Steph? The farm?”

Emmett let out a small sigh and took a sip of his beer. "Oh, y'know. She gets a little antsy when she hasn't been to the city in awhile. Maybe I should pick up some of that wagyu beef, make her a nice dinner so she feels a little less bored. Dinner and a dance recital. Who knows? She might find it inspiring." He sounded a little bit hopeful, even though he followed it up with, "Farm's the same as always. Got a new foal this week, but that's about it. Does Mikayla want to see a baby horse?"

“Since when did you turn into a romantic?” Quaid jokes, taking a pull from his own beer and dramatically smacking his lips. He’d known Em long enough to know the other man had numerous facets not seen at first glance, but it didn’t make it any less fun to poke at his prickly ass. “But she’d probably appreciate it.” They were friends enough that Quaid could admit from one man to another when there was an at least decent idea, plus it wasn’t like there were that many things to do around ‘town’.

“Does a bear shit in the woods… Which is to say congrats on the new member of the menagerie and this weekend work for you?”

Emmett just rolled his eyes at the jab, content to keep any other romantic ideas to himself. He was more than happy to let the conversation drift to livestock instead.

"Yeah, weekend's good. After lunch work for you folks? Steph'll love getting to go full horse girl with someone else. Bring Dafne, too. Steph'd appreciate the company, I'm sure."

There was a slight uproar as the hockey game on the bar’s three whole TVs got exciting, Quaid momentarily looking over his shoulder to check on the score before returning his attention to the conversation. “Unless you want me to bring over something to grill, after lunch works fine.”

There’s a chuckle at the mention of Emmett’s wife going full horse girl, knowing that there’d be two more added in at this rate. “Yeah? Sure, I’m sure they’d love the chance to get together and Daf says I never take her anyplace but PTA meeting these days, so…” Something he never thought he’d catch himself saying, yet Quaid wouldn’t trade it for the world.

“I can show you my new compound bow, too.” Bonding, companionship, masculinity et al.

Emmett raises his eyebrows, pleased by both Quaid's offers. "Yeah? Wouldn't say no to grillin'. Wouldn't say no to checking out that bow either. Sounds like a good afternoon. Gals'll like it, too."

He gets the attention of the bartender as they walk by. "Can I get another round for me and this fella here? Please and thanks."

It wouldn’t do to say a smile came about at Emmett’s words as that was his resting face, though Quaid’s features further split into one. “Sounds like a plan to me. We’ll grill, visit the foal, Dafne’ll comment on how I’m gonna shoot myself in the face one of these days, and certainly we’ll all have a good laugh over it.” Quite honestly a perfect weekend day in these parts.

The one who always has something to say takes a wordless thanks in raising his original beer that was nearly finished in Emmett’s direction and swigging the last bit down.

Edited (now ACTUALLY readable :)) 2024-09-20 18:52 (UTC)

July 17, 2013 ▪ Prescott Fire Station ▪ 11:15 PM

Reggie’s exhausted. It’s been an excruciatingly long day, she hasn’t closed her eyes in what feels like a full 24 hours, and she knows there’s no way in hell she’ll be able to sleep past 6:00 tomorrow morning, but she can’t go to bed yet. Because it’s Ares’ birthday for another forty-five minutes, and not even the complete collapse of the only world she’s ever known will make her miss celebrating it on the actual day.

“Okay, I don’t speak for the quality of your birthday cake,” she says into the dimly lit bullpen and tosses a box of birthday cake-flavored Oreos on the table in front of Ares. “But I think you’ll really like slipping into a diabetic coma.”

Ares, finally horizontal after an equally long day, takes a second to blink his eyes open. He smiles, warm, because Reggie is back safe from another day in hell, but his half-awake brain does not quite comprehend what’s going on with the plastic blue package in front of him.

“Aren’t we a little low on insulin for this? And a few days early?”

Reggie rolls her eyes and finally lets herself take a seat, sinking into the metal folding chair like it's a feather mattress.

"I got stress zits trying to get back here before midnight." She pulls a nearly spent tea light from her fanny pack and carefully places it on top of the package. Look at that, this is basically a normal birthday. “If it's the wrong day then we're changing your birthday.”

“As long as you don’t add any years. I want to earn those.” Ares sits up from the threadbare sofa he’d chosen as a temporary bed between calls in a sort of warped sit-up, since he’s about to eat an Oreo and all. He really had forgotten about his birthday, and it’s strange to be confronted with this all now. He turns large, concerned eyes up to hers, to search for damage more than stress zits. Nothing apparent.

“You better not have traded anything good for this.”

"Just some jewelry," Reggie says with a shrugs and fishes half a matchbook out of her bag. "Not much use these days."

Which isn't a lie. But for some reason it's easier to focus on lighting the candle and presenting it to Ares to blow out than it is to look him in the face when talking.

“Reg.” He chides, mentally trying to remember all the jewelry she had. She took her father’s wedding ring, he knows, after he died. He makes a point to remember to look for it later, or get it back somehow.

“For some Oreos that were never even good? You’re at least making half the wish.” He takes the candle with the ease of someone used to burns, and holds it stubbornly between the two of them.

“What?” Reggie folds her arms and kicks her feet up on another chair, pointedly pivoting away from the candle. “Am I going to the opera soon or something?”

Ares just as pointedly moves to sit on the sofa arm to face Reggie and holds it out, narrowing his eyes a little. Come on. Wish.

“What if I said yeah, I bought you Whitney tickets for Christmas in July. Surprise.”

“That would be terrible, because I sold my whimsy to buy you these Oreos,” Reggie deadpans.

“Then they weren’t worth that much. I can’t feel so bad. Blow this out, too.” Ares demands, threatening likely not for the first time to light the station on fire but jabbing out the candle like it isn’t aflame.

Reggie’s face cracks, and she barks out a laugh that’s just a little too loud and unrestrained. “You dick.” She punches Ares in the arm, and looks past the candle. “I was so fucking whimsical I got a six-pack of Cokes, too, just so you know, and if you don’t make your wish already I’m drinking them all myself.”

“Ow.” Ares says automatically, rubbing his arm more out of reflex than any pain. “Fine. Okay. For the need for caffeine…”

But caffeine and sugar isn’t what he wishes for. It’s so Reggie gets her jewelry back, and lives to see her next birthday. He can use his birthday gift on her and she never has to know. It’s time to blow the candle out anyway, so he extinguishes it in a little puff of smoke, and peels the plastic off the top of the Oreos without further preamble.

“But if you don’t help me eat these, I really will die, you know.”

The cookies on the table are a little worse for wear, half broken and probably stale, and the soda cans sitting in a cooler under the table are dented and dusty. Something about the whole scene puts Reggie's teeth on edge and makes her heart beat a little too fast and it's terrible. It's uncomfortable and uncontrolled and wildly unproductive.

So she punches Ares in the arm again. “Sucker,” she hisses like she just cheated him out of a jackpot, and shoves an entire Oreo in her mouth.

Having been friends with Reggie for literally half a lifetime,now, Ares knows when and how to take this kind of punch with a smile. Even when he’d much rather be awfully annoying and pull her in for a hug. He instead chooses to raise his hand and bop her on the head like a misbehaving kitten, stepping a pace back to eat a birthday Oreo in peace.

They’re good. The back of his teeth ache a little, but they are. “Thank you. For not making everyone sing.” And everything else. They can start there.

“I can still make it happen, don’t test me, Makepeace.” Reggie swats ineffectually at him and sneers through cookie-covered teeth. “But,” she plucks another Oreo and a bonus swipe of creme from the crumpled sleeve. “Thanks for living another year, I guess.”

“Sure didn’t try very hard at it.” This is supposed to be an airy joke, almost a brag, but he realizes his mistake the second it’s out of his mouth. None of them are promised birthdays anymore. He doesn’t let regret show, but does pluck another Oreo out of the sleeve, knocking against Reggie’s selection to steal some of the creme.

“But now I do have to last til at least your next. For payback purposes.”

“Yeah, and you know if you don’t,” she yawns, no longer able to keep that creeping exhaustion fully at bay, “I’ll fucking kill you.”

“And I’d absolutely never give you that satisfaction.” Ares grins, standing and throwing an obnoxious arm around his best friend’s shoulders. That’s a promise he can keep, this year.

“Birthday’s over. You gotta sleep.”

Sleep doesn’t offer much respite these days – Reggie’s brain doesn’t shut down without a fight, and if she remembers her dreams it’s because they were extra stressful that night. Unfortunately, their mortal shells required it from time to time. And she couldn’t keep Ares and Dylan and everyone else at Prescott safe and alive if she was barely conscious.

“Yeah, yeah, you ‘n’ me both,” she yawns again and bumps her shoulder against Ares. “Just don’t forget to floss first. You got a lil something in your teeth.”

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Backstory Scenes

Other Scenes

Other Scenes - Emmett & Quaid pre-apocalypse drinks

Other Scenes: Reggie & Ares, Apocalypse Birthday