[PRP] Get ******** 📢 (Preacher & Shiloh)

[The Semblance of Unity]

She dicked around in bullshit land probably more often than she should. Since the layout of the town was almost the same as Ashdown, it wasn't so bad. Today Preacher was even running around in human form, since running on her paws kind of really hurt. But still, she was full of excess steam and looking for a way to let it out.

Luckily or unluckily, there was someone nearby that she happened to recognize. It wasn't the same spot they'd met in before, but it was nearby. Preacher watched him for a second before stepping closer. "Hey, plant kid," she called out. "Do a kick-flip."

melancholies

 

[Melancholies]

Shiloh was pissed. He didn't look pissed; he just looked tired, run down, the usual things Shiloh felt on the now daily basis. Otherworld was an escape—literally—because Jamie was keeping him home against his will (you're sick! rest!), but in the end it was just making him all jittery and his anxiety was starting to fluctuate. He couldn't sit around and rest while everyone else was off busting their balls or whatever the ********.

"I have a name." He barked back without missing a beat, though he did a double take when he saw who was speaking. "The hell happened to you? You look like s**t." Shiloh, meanwhile, sounded like s**t, so it was a fair trade off right? Evened the playing field? "I ain't doin' no ******** kick-flips."

The Semblance of Unity

 

[The Semblance of Unity]

"Ya got a name, sure, but I ain't 'member it. Refresh me, salad?" She rolled her eyes. "Thanks. I made out with a bon fire. It was p hot. And you sound like ya deep-throated a burning stick so I guess we're even."

After a moment, she squinted. "We should throw down. Right now. I can see ya could use it."

melancholies

 

[Melancholies]

"Sure feels like I ********' deep-throated a candle, yeah." His hand scratched at his neck, even though the motion ultimately did nothing in the end. His eyes were fixated on her burnt hands; she wanted to fight, but how could she with banged up fists? Then again, Shiloh supposed there had been a number of times that he hurt himself beyond pain, so maybe there was some solidarity in the stupidity there. Whatever.

"Jamie gets mad if I fight." He'd said this the last time they talked, he was pretty sure. Despite that, his fists were flexing a little. "He's already gonna be upset when he finds out I wandered off again. Got real mad when Sonny and I whacked one another." He sniffed.

Shiloh was regarding her curiously though, eyeing her up and down like he was debating internally with himself (even though it probably looked really questionable, who taught you socialization skills Shiloh?).

"Actually, you know," He had been leaning against the wall of a nondescript building, but he pushed himself up, "Whatever, fine, ******** it. You can have first swing 'cause you're already banged up." Even though he was sick, so the playing field was basically leveled.

The Semblance of Unity

 

[The Semblance of Unity]

"Wait, you n' Sonny fought - who won?" Yeah, of course Jamie would worry. Old fuddy duddy boyfriends were supposed to or something. She snorted. "So don' tell Jamie." He was going to give her first hit - honestly, she was vaguely offended. But Preacher also wasn't the type to turn down a handicap, whether given in folly or not.

She took a brief moment, rolling her shoulders. Preacher wouldn't be able to do a whole lot with her hands, and she wasn't as fast as she used to be. If she could grapple him or get his hair or - Then she rushed at him, feinted to the left on her bad foot, and sunk her right elbow into as much of his stomach as she could get.

melancholies

 

[Melancholies]

"Oh no way in hell am I telling Jamie." He snorted, "Though it's kinda hard when you share the same hea—" Preacher rushed up at him, but here was the thing about Shiloh; Preacher obviously knew how to fight the same scrappy street s**t he did, and though Shiloh didn't have the confidence to say he could've blocked or dodged or done something with that hit, there was absolutely no reason why he should've taken the blunt force of the blow.

Except well, friendly fights like this wasn't for the adrenaline rush. It was more for the pain.

He took the opportunity to swing his own elbow down on her shoulder. A crack in the face was satisfying, but also stupid in the sense that they were easy to dodge, so he didn't go for it even though the opportunity presented itself. Then again, Shiloh was more or less in it to be a punching bag. "It wasn't really a fight," He said mid-tussle, "We just whacked each other in the face for the ******** of it."

The Semblance of Unity

 

[The Semblance of Unity]

She yelped when his arm hit her square in the shoulder. Preacher moved with it, dropping down to her knees. "Sounds damn borin'," she grunted, lurching forward to wrap her arms around Shiloh's legs. Her fingertips dug into the backs of his thighs, his knees, scrambling for purchase. ********, but her hands hurt so much and the bandages were hindering her. Abruptly, she threw her body weight to the side, trying to get him to topple. ******** timber, tree boy - or so she hoped.

melancholies

 

[Melancholies]

Shiloh toppled; no pain, no gain, right? His beanie was growing steadily loose from the fight, but now it whisked off of his hair entirely as his head connected with the concrete. Not hard enough to do any lasting damage, but enough to make his vision blur for a moment or two. "Can't help it," He wheezed, "Hurtin' me hurts them too." It was cheap, but he immediately went for the french braid, anything to yank on for a moment of leverage.

Flowers were starting to sprout and bloom through cracks in the sidewalk, the air around them faint with the smell of rain.

The Semblance of Unity

 

[The Semblance of Unity]

"Borin'," she reiterated, trying to scramble up. Shiloh's hands found her brain and yanked and she screeched for a second, a strangled sound as the healing skin in her neck stretched. She immediately twisted, trying to ignore the searing pain.

Her arms went up, forearms slamming into the crooks of his elbows. "Y'know ya smell dank n' moldy," she panted. aiming her foot at his knee.

melancholies

 

[Melancholies]

"Like I give a ********," He spat right back, face twisting into something morbid at the screech. It felt nice fighting again. It felt invigorating, like he was alive. The pain was searing but it was a reminder too; here he was, ******** you world. He was up just as quickly as she was, but the blow to his knee knocked him right back ********>," He panted, "Ain't bad." His pant leg was starting to rip as plants poked their way through the denim, his face screwed up with pain, but he was right back to his feet despite it, bouncing around as he tried to keep limber. This time he charged back in with his fist aimed deliberately for her solar plexus.

The Semblance of Unity

 

[The Semblance of Unity]

Preacher tried to dodge, but she feinted with the wrong foot and it buckled underneath her. While his fist didn't connect exactly with her solar plexus, it hit her in the chest damn hard and all the air whooshed out of her. She went down, hands pulling at his plants as she went. Then she was rolling, struggling to get back up. Everything hurt, but it was turning into the good kind of hurt, even though her burns were the majority of the pain, it was okay.

She bounced back, away a bit, grinning. "Come n' get me, flood damage."

melancholies

 

[Melancholies]

"What's with the smile? Havin' fun?" Shiloh was, even if he was in a shitload of pain; the sore ache felt good though, in a weird way, like a long overdue stretch. He debated asking if she wanted to fight with magic, but where was the fun in that? Maybe it could be with some people, but he was here for the fist-to-fist brawl. The plants were something he couldn't really control; his status as a Noble and a principal vying for his attention, trying to say hey idiot what the ******** are you doing?

He wiped at a scrape on his cheek—when had that got there?—and tried to ignore the plants blatantly growing out of the lower layers of his flesh.

And it made Shiloh laugh, even though it was hoarse and rough and tired, it was exhilarated too as he rushed up at Preacher again. Pain was the name of the game and he could see Preacher was just as invested as he was. He was content to keep going until they were both collapsed on the ground, even though his actions were growing more sluggish and weighed down with the rush of adrenaline and the presence of his sickness.

The Semblance of Unity

 

[The Semblance of Unity]

"Might be havin' more fun if ya were any good," she shot back. Preacher dodged past his hands, but only barely. She wasn't as fast when she was hurt. Their fight, rather than a thing of grace and beauty, probably looked like two drunk giraffes fighting for the last leaf on the tree. Neither of them were in top form, and maybe that was for the best. There was no time to think beyond the pain of movement, no time to do anything but fight.

In a rather stupid move, she jumped up onto Shiloh, hoping her weight would topple him. If there was one thing Preacher was good at, it was latching onto people even when her hands were ********. She tried to slam her head into his.

melancholies

 

[Melancholies]

Two drunk giraffes was probably an understatement. If two visitors fought like morons in the Otherworld and no one was around, did it make a sound? Preacher was in fact heavy enough to topple him—or at least she had enough momentum for it—but the thing about Shiloh was the fact that he had perfect balance. It was an incredibly graceful fall, one that looked hilariously awkward and kind of painful, if only because his body bent backwards in implausible angles before he finally let himself topple.

And then she slammed her head into his, and then his head hit the concrete to boot, and suddenly he had a crown of dandelion poofs popping out of his hair. Or were they stars? They sort of looked like stars to him, but he knew that was silly. It wasn't nighttime.

"Yup," He said, his tongue feeling weird and heavy in his mouth. Did he bite it on accident? "Yep, alright, that's good." He cough-hacked, "That's good, my head's spinning, ********..." And his body was sore as ********. And everything felt kinda swollen. But maybe that was just him.

The Semblance of Unity

 

[The Semblance of Unity]

Preacher saw stars for sure. At some point, her lip had split and her cheekbone ached enough to hint at a black eye later on. But Shiloh (and, by proxy, her) had toppled with a satisfying and awkwardly graceful crash.

She laughed, loudly. "Are ya givin'-" Wheeze. "-up, then? D'ya yield?" Holy s**t everything hurt and, except for her hands, it was a damn good hurt.

melancholies