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<div style="margin:auto; max-width: 450px; height: 50px; margin-top: 20px;border-top: 15px solid #980202; font-family: abril fatface; font-size: 45px; color: transparent; -webkit-text-stroke: 1px #980202; text-align: center; letter-spacing: 3px;">IDRIS BELLUCCI</div><div style="margin:auto; max-width: 450px; height: 450px; padding-left: 15px; padding-right: 15px; margin-top: 15px; overflow-y: auto; font-family: times new roman; font-size: 13px; color: #ccc; letter-spacing: 1px; text-align: justify;"><br/>
<div style="margin: auto; margin-left: 20px; height: 160px; width: 160px; float: right; border-radius: 0%; background: url(https://i.pinimg.com/564x/cc/9a/3e/cc9a3e0c3204523393c77eb404e1430f.jpg); background-size: cover; background-position: center center; filter:contrast(100%); filter:grayscale(0%);font-size: 0px;border: 1px double #980202;">image</div>The sun peeked over the horizon, bathing the farm with the warm orange glow signifying the birth of a new day. The rusted windmill in the distance creaked gently as it swayed in the delicate breeze, though even as the new dawn settled over Havenshire, Idris Bellucci's day had already began. It was days like that day when she could almost forget the state of the world outside of her walls. Heavy on the almost, for the incessant groaning and hissing of the dead lurking beyond the wall was always present. Of course, over the years Idris had thinned out their population around the farm quite well. Even still, there were always Walkers scattered about. Typically they tended to stick closer to the nearby cities, but a ripe three year span after the Resurrection had left any humans within the cities long dead or eaten, forcing the Walkers to branch out into more remote areas in search of flesh to feed upon.<br/>
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The manual water pump groaned in tandem with the windmill as Idris Bellucci stood over it, pumping water into a ragged yet operational metal bucket. Dressed in a simple white tank top, army green combat pants, and some sand hued combat boots she'd had for a little more than half her life, the beautiful woman was freshly showered with her damp tendrils of chocolate hair hanging freely over one shoulder as she bent over the pump. She needed the water to make breakfast, which would consist of two boiled eggs and some jerky from a deer she'd killed and processed a week prior. The jerky she'd made had been doing her well, eating only a piece here or there. Despite this, the house was plenty stocked with MRE's and other unperishable items she'd collected over the years. Idris was simply stuck in her ways and her appetite had dwindled since the Resurrection due to the many amounts of times she'd been forced to go hungry.<br/>
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When the bucket was finally full, Idris stood with the bucket in hand to glance over towards the front of the farm, where the large wooden gate with the barbed wire exterior stood erect and ever valiant in it's efforts to conceal her from the undead world. Still, she had to at least check, didn't she? Some habits were hard to break, like the fact that Idris carried a pistol and a knife wherever she went. The pistol was for dire situations, for sound drew the Walkers. The knife was her best friend, her protector, her salvation. And she'd killed many a Walker with her blade.<br/>
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A feeling of anticipation washed over Idris as she began walking back to the house, a large white Victorian style structure that could house an astonishing amount of people. She'd sent out her transmission that morning, like she did every morning, on Emergency Channel 40. For three months, no one had answered. For three months, she'd tried to reach someone, anyone… Yet she remained alone. Still, something about that day felt different. And as she waltzed into the house and began preparing her small breakfast, thanks to the deer she'd killed and the three chicken's she'd taken from a local neighboring farm on a run, she had no idea how right she was. That day would be different. Idris Bellucci would no longer be alone. Yet even as change seemed to be rearing her head over the horizon, the woman was painfully unaware of the growing Walker horde two cities over, a horde that was most certainly headed in Havenshire's direction.<br/>
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<div style="margin:auto; max-width: 450px; height: 50px; margin-top: 20px;border-top: 15px solid #980202; font-family: times; font-size: 0px; color: #fffffff; text-align: center; letter-spacing: 3px;">bottom border</div></div><br/><div style="margin:auto;height:15px; max-width:450px; padding: 3px; margin-top: 10px; position: relative; background-color: #fffffff; ;font-size: 0px; border-radius: 5px;color:#000; text-align: center; font-size: 8px; font-family: times; letter-spacing: 3px; opacity: 85%; text-transform: uppercase;">code by promethean</div>