Name: Abel Gim
Age: 16
Gender: Male
Race: Korean-American
Ahem preference: Pan (Less interested in women, unfortunately)
Appearance: Short for his age, narrow shoulders and waist giving him the appearance of a young girl. His eyes are thin, angular, and bright, a deep amber-brown. He wears his dark hair long and thick to his shoulders, usually tied up, with silver studs in his ears. He is normally seen wearing a white sweater with faded green cargo shorts, red converse and a bright, worn-out green backpack.
Personality: Around friends (not many), he is a ball of sunshine, always supportive and ready to help, though occasionally naive and airheaded. However, when he is alone with nothing but his thoughts, he appears narrow-minded, selfish, manipulative, and deceptive. He has been known for being a professional life-ruiner, but no one has had the guts to point it out for fear of... Well, something very bad.
History: His life was mysteriously normal, a bit too perfect for an outcome like him. (Anything else will be revealed later on)
Crush: N/A thus far
Other: Tends to latch onto his favorite in a group of people (*cough senpai cough*)

Name: Melanie Pasternack
Age: 20
Gender: Female
Race: Caucasian
Ahem preference: T
Appearance: Tall and lanky with a very thin body with few muscles. Her hair is ashy brown and almost whispy, reaching to her mid back, but usually placed in a bun. Her skin color is on the verge of tan, and her eyes are a greenish-blue. She usually wears a modest burgundy cardigan and messy white jeans over tall black boots.
Personality: She is sheepish and scatter-brained, rarely able to focus on a single subject, but is surprisingly mature. She is studious and has a rather large brain, but rarely speaks her mind and prefers to keep her opinions on the sidelines. However, when she believes someone's decision will have grave consequences, she will make sure her thoughts are known.
History: Will be revealed later on.
Crush: N/A thus far
Other: N/A

Time: 1:00 AM

Event:  3 years after the outbreak...

"Bon Bon?" A quiet voice spoke out in the dimly lit remains of a movie theater lobby. "Bon Bon..?" The room was silent, and nearly empty, save the sound of a youth calling into the abandoned space. The youth himself knelt behind the ticket booth, both hands incessantly shaking a small mass of beige fur. "Wake up..." He whispered, fingers knotted into the soft fluff, which was stained with a dark red splatter. "You can make it, can't you?" A tear fell from the boy's face while his breath quickened. To most, the scene might not seem like much, simply the loss of a loved pet. However, to the nearly grown child, it was the loss of his only friend to a disease he had no idea could even affect the creature. Even now, the canine began panting, eyes wide. "Bon-" He had retracted his arms and leaped to his feet only moments before the childhood security blanket became a monster before his very eyes, snapping and snarling with lazy eyes and a sickly purple tongue. Despite the lessened control of its body, it was still able to give chase as the boy slung his bag over his shoulder and hurried out of the office-like room, salt streaming from his eyes. He had only moments to make it to the exit door before the dog could catch up with him. Lucky for him, the door slammed shut into the animal's face, producing a bang loud enough to awaken half the town - this, when he was armed with nothing but a box-cutter and a chipped pocket knife, was not a good sign.

A woman stood in the doorway of an empty home. Her heart thudded heavily against her chest in response to the sound of something similar to a gunshot in the distance. Though it was far off, it was still drawing unwanted attention, and if she couldn't hide soon, there would be dire consequences. Her choices were limited; the growling and hissing of walkers could already be heard to the South, the noise from the North, and she was dead-center. The nearby homes' windows and doors had been all but nuked, and if the street were to be filled with living corpses, the chances were one to three of being heard or smelled. "Lovely." Her voice wavered with her courage, but with little choice, she was on the move now. Left and right were the sights of death, rotting carcasses on every corner she passed. Every body made her conscience sting. The dead faces on torn posters surrounded her with whispering voices of hatred and fear, making her sprint ever the more difficult.

------------------

As soon as she stepped inside, she gagged. The room was filled with a rotting musk to horrid to describe, and the familiar moaning of a mindless enemy. "We've got zeds. Bloaters, to be exact." Her face shifted into a grimace. She hated Bloaters. The pricks were gaseous walkers who, as suggested by their name, could bloat up and basically suicide bomb on you to attract more walkers.

She sheaved her rusty sword, observing the room too see if there was an evidence. there was not. "In and out, like always Yumi.. In and out" She sighed, heading over to a locked medical cabinet, and using the butt of the sword to bust the glass. After the deed was done, she proceeded to pick out what she could find, when suddenly-

*insert next story here*

As luck would have it, the boy found his way to the cellar of an old Italian restaurant, which seemed to be abandoned. Within moments, he had kicked in the door and dropped inside, coughing into his sleeve when dust rose around him. Someone had been inside before; broken glass from various vegetable and fruit jars lay scattered on the ground, but the damage seemed to be old enough to be safe. After a rushed double-check around the prison-like basement, he dropped to his knees against the wall and let out a single sob before taking in a sharp intake of breath to calm himself. It would be only a few hours until he could return to his safe haven.

The woman found herself in a rather compromising situation that required an even more compromising decision. In her path was a broken down mall, somewhere she could be safe, but also somewhere she could be shot down. However, she stood in the walkers' path, and needed to hurry somewhere quick before she was caught. To run or not to run? She decided to follow her senses and rush into the building, hushing her footsteps the moment she got inside, fearful of what may lie within.

--------------------

"C'mon C'mon!" A young man whispered to himself, rummaging through supplies as fast as he could, trying his best ti get away as fast as he could. It had to be seconds before someone came over and saw him. After all, that louod of a crash would draw anyone. He panted, finally finding medicine and food, getting ready to go when- "Ahem." He heard a voice say. He sighed, turning around, holding a bloodied brick in his hands. A young girl, no older than 15 stood a few feet away from him in the doorway, holding what looked to be a rusted sword in her hands. his eyes widened at the sight. Well, this is trouble...

At the sound of a loud noise somewhere above and to the left of him, the boy flinched, clasping his arms over his head before standing. Where exactly is the front of this place..? After a bit of searching, he was able to find the ladder into the main restaurant, which he found to be connected to the mall by the front. Profanity swirled throughout his mind as he made his way to the broken window, kneeling behind the sill to observe what seemed to be the source of the noise, a small supply store with two people inside. He most definitely was not going to approach, but he was going to observe.

Following the sound of a crash and faint voices, the woman made her way toward the wing across from her, cautiously sticking to the shadows. This was not her day to be making close encounters of the walker kind, especially when she'd narrowly escaped an entire mob of close encounters.

The boy looked at Yumi angrily, pouting and curling up into a ball. Thank god, She thought. Any louder and walkers would have heard us.

Name: Jack of All Trades (or just Jack, but that's boring)
Age: ??
Gender: Presumably Male
Race: Cardman
Preference: ??
Appearance: A lithe, elegantly built man around the height of 5'0 with narrow shoulders and only slightly broader hips. His arms and legs are a bit long for his height and his body is unnaturally skinny, though he somehow still appears healthy and totally not bulimic. His face is feminine and almost elfish with defined features such as angled gold eyes and cupid-shaped lips. His hair is blinding white and each strand is only about an inch long, barely covering his pale, white skin. Up close, this skin is smooth and inhuman like porcelain, and his eyes are owl-like with pinpoint pupils. His attire is often princely, fluctuating often between revealing and modest, but always colored plum and pale, sugary gold. On his fingertips are faint imprints of clubs, hearts, and diamonds. However, when embarrassed or under pressure, his appearance changes dramatically. His eyes become rimmed with a ruby red and his face becomes slightly more angled and bone-like, as if folded from paper. His skin greys significantly and loses all color, his clothing darkening to black and silver.
Personality: He is rather bumbling and beetle-like, always unsure and insecure, muttering to himself and pacing. He is shy and elusive, preferring never to speak unless spoken to. With a tendency to be clumsy to a fault with the absolute worst luck, he has incredibly low self-esteem and has a split personality based upon trying to help others, dealing with whether he should keep them safe and let them be or assist them and threaten their lives.
History: ??
Crush: N/A thus far
Other: He has an affinity for cards, buttons, card games, and clothespins, though he dislikes rain and fire (for some reason, he rambles about how it will 'fray' his 'edges'). If you stand less than two feet away from him, you can hear his heartbeat, which sounds more like a hand tapping on cardboard. Speaking of cardboard, never let him cook for you, because that's what it tastes like. Just his luck.

Name: Isobel Marshall
Age: 19
Gender: Female
Race: Caucasian
Preference: Bi
Appearance: Rather plain, but above average. She sports thick honey brown hair that reaches her shoulders, framing her lean, angular face with asymmetrical bangs. Her lips are full but devoid of most angles and curves, and green, deep-set eyes shadowed with hints of insomnia. Her body is bony and straight, often draped in grey, formless men's suits. She stands at 5'4, but often slouches two inches.
Personality: She is schizophrenic, insomniac, and has a case of Alzheimer's disease. As a result, she is often hot-headed and frequently experiences paranoia, depression, and lack of restraint. She is bold and often boorish and pigheaded, sticking to her own plan of action and disregarding most others.
History: Will be revealed (or written) later on (because this is taking way too long to write XD)
Crush: N/A thus far
Other: N/A

Age: Chronologically, over nine thousand years old, but somehow looks in her teens.

Race: Daughter of The Sparrows

Preference: Pan

Appearance: Preferred metamorphic body shape (hint hint) is that of a young, willowy teenage girl looking about in her teens, poised with elegance and a beautiful aura around her. Slender, almost bird like limbs complement her petite frame and heart shaped face. Her face itself is varied in many ways- Soft and fragile amber eyes soften her bold and intimidating jaw line, which in turn contrast starkly to her seductive and full cherry red lips, pulled off by a well defined cupids bow and baby-faced pout.Small, grey feathers act as blush on her cheekbones, bringing her bird like appearance to an exquisite view. Her hair is said to be viewed as many different colors by on going travelers- Ranging from white, to gold, to raven black, to cherry red- Some even report rainbow-, her hair color always changing. Her skin is pale with a slight tanning to it, smoother than the marble she steps on and more fragile than a porcelain doll. A tiny crack accentuates her face, located right on her jaw. She radiates grace and elegance, making those around her bow to her will.

Personality: She is always cool and confident, lady like and regal- Almost enough to be fit for a princess. She always keeps a leveled head, politely warning fellow companions on their mistakes with a cold and edged icy tone, frozen enough to make the fires of Underdall freeze over. Underneath her ladylike exterior lives broken and shattered interior, plagued with doubt from memories of the past and mistakes of the present. Visions of unknown forces haunt her at night. For some reason she tells people never to speak to her when her eyes turn gray. For what reason, no one knows. Another mystery of Wonderland

History:??

Crush: N/A

Other?: Birds are naturally attracted to her, and the air pressure,speed and direction change based upon her mood. Has a very unhealthy obsession with gummy worms and a possible fear of Cheshire Cats.

Age: Chronologically over eighteen-thousand years old, but physically retains the appearance of a seventeen year old

Preference: Bi

Appearance: Kemmoth is a tall, lean young man visibly tired and worn out from centuries of war and fatigue, the toll showing on his handsome young face. Slender yet slightly muscled limbs match his somewhat buff torso, contrasting exceptionally with his soft yet intimidating face. His face itself is handsome, cold and uninviting- Yet shows a deceitful friendly glow to it- Glowing, cold crystal blue eyes frame his face perfectly, taking attention away from his seductive full lips pink lips with their magnetism. A slightly crooked roman nose complements his face as well, it standing out against his rounded narrow jaw line. Small, blue and thick dragon scales cover his neck and cheekbones, and almost completely replace his fine blond eyebrows, bringing his soft yet war like appearance to a close. His hair is a pristine sapphire blue, sparkling in the moon and sunlight as if it were made of the mineral itself. His skin is hardened and red- No doubt from his draconic heritage-. with several scars both thick and thin covering the entirety of his body. A fine, olive scar runs along his nose and eye lid. His skin holds many secret birthmarks that burn a fiery bright red, orange and yellow- A mark given to him by his tribe, activated if he ever becomes angry or is near heating over.

Personality:He is often cold and insensitive, Pushing those away from him in fear of hurting them. Often with a sarcastic comment in hand a sadistic smirk on his face always, he is often seen a sa mean, military war strategist, but in reality is a truly caring young man who just wishes to protect those he cares for. Often doesn't tell those around him his problems and prefers to bottle his emotions and deal with them on his own.

History: ??

Other?: Is deeply weakened and hurt by water. Loves the summertime. Hates the Elta'dri, better known as Water Nymphs, andf has a secret pack of Coal Chips in his backpack

The man's voice droned on, ceaselessly ringing in the young woman's ears. It seemed to be her own personal hell. It was the loudest voice among many, disturbing the peace and never really seeming to shut up. "...Now, what happened last night?" The psychiatrist asks for the fifteenth time that afternoon, a hand resting upon Isobel's shoulder and causing her to flinch. "I remember... Sitting down..." She whispered, her eyes shut and tilted to the ceiling. She lay on a leather couch, arms folded over her stomach. "And... Talking to James..." That was when the hand softly squeezed her arm, pinching her skin. "Who is James, Isobel?" The voice speaks again, interrupting the peace yet again. She opened her eyes, rolling them and turning her head toward the wall, away from the bespectacled geezer. "My husband..." She spoke softly with an edge, wincing as a needle entered her arm. "You don't have a husband, miss." Something clicked in her mind with the liquid of the needle, something whispered in her ear. He's lying to you. He doesn't know what he's talking about. He doesn't know you. He has the nerve to tell you what you do and don't have. He shouldn't be here. He shouldn't be anywhere. With that, she sat up, stinging pain shooting through her arm as the needle fell out and the doctor sat back. The same hand lifted toward the man's neck when time just seemed to... Stop. Her eyes shut once again, the world turning black. She was leaving again, leaving this world and entering the next. No, she hadn't died - not yet, it wasn't her turn, no. Instead, she found herself in a place completely different from the former... A place where up was down and down was up - a place only children's stories could possibly describe. Wonderland.

The card sat idle on a floating stone. He was still as a statue, bent over his knees and staring at the ground, skin and clothing a dull grey. He was frozen, the way he had been for what felt like centuries... But then he woke up, as did the life around him. He seemed to be in one of the more pleasant areas of this realm, one where the newcomers always entered first, where flowers glowed in the night and beasts slept undisturbed. Slowly but surely, the card awakened as well. Sitting slowly with the sounds of crumpling paper, Jack of All Trades lifted his eyes as the color returned to his body. "Good morning..." His pleasant lips mumbled to the world beneath him, curving into a plastered smile, despite the obvious night that surrounded him. He felt so relaxed, so peaceful for the first time in so long, yet he knew all of that was bound to change when the newest victim would step through the door of chaos. "We've got a visitor." He hummed softly to himself, standing on the boulder he'd been perched upon, the underside immediately crumbling at his feet and lowering him to the ground. "My, my... Where are the others..? They should be here by now..." With every word he spoke, a single leaf fell from a plant, only to retain life as another grew in its place. "Mm... So heavenly today... A shame to see it all go to waste." His voice carried a pout, a flower to his left seeming to droop in agreement. His sensitive eyes darted around expectantly as he knelt into place on the lavender grass, a sigh of final relaxation escaping his lungs. It would be his last for a long while.