⊹ church.

@im jaebeom. "they're too nice with you," serim only replies. her brothers... it's been a while since she has last seen her family, and she wonders if she'll ever see them again—or never at all. as far as she's concerned, her leaving the city is an act of betrayal to the oath they have taken a little too many years ago. she doesn't comment any of her thoughts, but instead she lets out a sigh at jaebeom's answer. truly a jaebeom answer, if she were to say so myself, but she does take out her clean bandage from her supply.

"you already are an idiot, but i suppose you wouldn't want to make yourself even more of an idiot," she says calmly, before she holds out the bandage. "give me your arm. i know a place that can help your injury but... it'll be a little far from here," she adds. by place, she meant the motel she hasn't been to in three days, but that's not something he has to know now, she believes. "we should get going as soon as you're fine. we can't stay here until sundown."

@jo serim. he nods at her recall and ducks his head down before hearing her further comment. "suspicious positions—?" he pauses and slowly gets up from his position. he refocuses his sight on the other, drawing a thin smile and scratching his neck. "your brothers were a little more lenient on my carelessness," he emits a small chuckle and attempts to wrap the cast tighter. he missed her brothers—no, he /misses/ them still. they were his childhood for the most part, before he got shipped off to america to attend a broken academy. the last time he saw her was a few years ago, but she is more apparent now—more of a mature individual. though, her presence broke down his aura faster than he can ever imagined it could.

he heaves loudly, "i fell, and that's all i'll tell you because i'll deem myself an idiot if i do, especially from your judging—but i'm okay, for now. it's bleeding and swelling a lot though, a little too much for an injury like it." he creates a visible grimace. however, it's going to attract the dead if i don't get proper treatment for it." his eyes fall to the bloody patch, biting down on his bottom lip.

@im jaebeom. the man has a dirty mouth—this is what first crosses serim's mind as she listens to the stranger ramble. she raises an eyebrow at his words, at the supposed recognition, and she tilts her head sideways as she tries to recall when she's seen this man who claims to know her. "oh," serim finally says as memories save her from her still state, and she lowers her gun, lets it hang by her shoulders as she walks closer to the older lad. "jaebeom?" she calls tentatively, brows furrowing as she wonders if she got the name right.

im jaebeom is a friend of her brothers—all four of them, though two of them have been deceased for several years now. she bites the insides of her cheek at his remark, and she averts her gaze even as she walks closer. "it's not my fault you always end up in suspicious positions," she says, before she crouches beside jaebeom's figure, examining his wound. "what happened to you?"

@jo serim. jaebeom suddenly feels restless and immediately closes his eyes. he is at the brink of sleeping before his eyes shot open in reaction. a mere bullet nearly misses his cold skin, causing him to hiss in fright as he jolts an inch away. his head turns to the culprit with widened eyes, "—what the !" he whispers to himself, needing that small curse before responding to the figure before him. he expects some older individual, but they happen to be a bright-colored young lady who is holding a gun twice her size.

"what the —no, clearly i am not. i'm hurt," he rudely reacts, slowly standing up from his position and softly groaning to the immense pain. "now who are you—" and he realizes who it is. "ah, ."

the one and only jo serim, that rowdy of a daughter whose hair is far too recognizable to even glance away from. the sun hits her locks, bringing the color into a warmer aspect and blinding him if he stares too hard at it. more so, their encounters have always been serim pointing any sort of gun at him. the last time he saw her, she aimed the exact same weapon but with a /nicer/ smile (at least, that's what he hopes). "will there be a time where you don't have a gun pointing at me, serim? or is this how you greet people?" he remarks and sighs loudly.

@im jaebeom. it has been a while since serim has been out on a scavenge hunt alone—mainly because the people back at the motel wouldn't let any of them come out on their own. it's a good move, of course, yet serim can't help but hear the president of the city of ansikjeo, yelling at the soldiers that this is a wasted opportunity to lessen the demand, when there were already so few of the supplies.

the woman walks as quietly as she can inside the abandoned church, her steps echoing despite her attempts on making her footsteps inaudible. she holds her gun close to her chest—a rifle with a bayonet at its tip that would be too heavy for a girl of her statue, if not for her training back when she was still younger—senses on high alert as she steps out of the church. there isn't anyone—or anything—out there, but serim readies her gun anyway, moving along with the shadows as quickly yet silently as possible, in her back a bag of supplies that could last her a week if she planned it right.

however, a figure in the distance stops her in her tracks, and the moment her heels hault, she raises her gun, aims at the figure of a man. one second is all she needs—she sees the blood, she notices the weakened state, and her mind assumes the man may have been bitten, and she puls the trigger all too easily—only to remember there are still quite a few years before men turn into the undead. the gunshot rings throughout the air. she misses by a mere inch beside the lad's neck.

"are you infected?" she asks, rifle still at aim.

@jo serim. well, . jaebeom is in a whole lot of trouble.

it isn't a good type of trouble either. the kind of trouble that you'll find in a zombie apocalypse, the "oh--i-am-injured-and-i-am-surrounded-by-zombies" trouble. it isn't like he can't move at all, but rather, he can't move how he should be moving as. the blood reeks, and it is keeping him up all night, unless of course, someone finds him.

he is currently resting against a nearby tree, and an empty church is in sight. he hopes that the undead hasn't spotted him yet, but it is quite inevitable since the population of zombies is significantly higher. his arm is wrapped in a dirty cloth, which signals a greater chance of infection, but in honesty, he rather lose a limb than his own life. he lived far too long to just simply die now. but how did he exactly happen to have this wound? well, the only statement that he can give is... idiocy. it is pure idiocy. imagine someone climbing up a fence and falling down accidentally. yeah, that's it.

he sighs loudly as he stares at the skies, taking small sips of whatever liquid that sits in his canister and praying to that nonexistent god that someone will find him. "i'm in' stupid," he grumbles to himself.