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@contedefee​​ asked ( for dierdre ) :   83, nuclear winter ( x )

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           ❛ 𝐈 𝐅𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐀 𝐂𝐎𝐀𝐓. ❜ It wasn’t so bad after a while. The COLD. It stays with you, but you learn to live with it. Or so Daphne wanted to believe. In the aftermath of The Drop, scavenging became a skill, one you could die or live by. And as Daphne and Deirdre took turns, the other on look out, they became a team… of sorts. Pushed together by CIRCUMSTANCE, and the impossibility of what had happened to the world. 

Sometimes, fights emerged. Warring groups of the desperate and the hungry and the cold lashing out, nearly ripping each other’s throats out over cans of soup. She’d seen a man stab a woman in the side over toilet paper. Magazines. A hairbrush. Razors. 

Daphne herself had TOUGHENED up, learned to bare her teeth, had been forced to SHARPEN them. It was the only way to survive. 

❛ Not a bad reaping. ❜ She slid in to the back of the Mystery Machine. They’d decorated it in whatever they could find. Half-torn pillows and musty blankets.  She wondered if Fred missed it. She’d vowed to find him, wherever he was. Beside Deirdre, she sloughed off a nub of stale bread and passed the rest to her. ❛ God, I miss fresh food. ❜