[PRP] Duststorm (Sascha + Cerpin)

[Yamashii]

dusty dusty wind
sandy teeth

 

[Yamashii]

It was too dry tonight. Cerpin couldn't stand the way moisture just baked away on nights like these in Chittentown. Some would say it was his fault for choosing to stay in a place like this when there were other attractive options like the refreshing seaside paradise of Civisect or the romantic and picturesque forests of the Four Fronds. Somehow, though, he couldn't stay away from the shifting sands of the desert. The run down slums of the city, decorated in the junk that lowbloods could find or afford. Graffiti across the walls, makeshift rooftops built from parts of abandoned vehicles. It wasn't luxurious but he found he fit in better with a crowd like this.

It was only because of his sponsorship earlier that Cerpin had any idea where this place was. It shouldn't have surprised him that Sascha lived in a communal hive with lots of rowdy neighbors but it did. He checked the address on the sponsee form again before heading inside to find the right door. He gave it two knocks before standing back and waiting.

"It's me, Cerpin." The purpleblood was restless and it showed in his voice. He had come to ask a friend for a favor. An incredibly big favor.

"I need your help. I want you to look for something in the desert with me." With Sascha's telekinetic powers, they might be able to find and move the wreckage of Tevini's rockets to look for clues as to her current whereabouts. If they couldn't find clues, maybe they could take leverage instead like important fuel sources or rare devices. He needed something to work with instead of constantly chasing after her without any cards in his deck.

"You're the only one I could think of to ask." His other friends were either busy leading their own lives or too far away to bother. Sascha likely had a break after the events of Superstar Authority and understood the sandy dusty environment of Chittentown and the surrounding desert well.

It was a good thing there was a door in between them right now. His face was flushed with frustration over this irritating wild goose chase and embarrassment that he never managed to handle things on his own.

seekingCylem

 

[seekingCylem]

Sascha's hive was as it always was: a landfill. Sascha always did his due diligence to make sure nothing left among the stacks was perishable. Granted, his lusus did most of the legwork in that department. Still, over seven sweeps of hoarding, there was only so much Sascha could do to keep the dust at bay.

Well, other than get rid of the junk.

Sascha was attempting the next best solution. He gently nudged the piles around with a feather duster. Occasionally he'd stop to sneeze or stabilize the precariously stacked objects. There were perhaps more interesting things he could have been doing, even at such an early hour of the evening. Reasonably, he should have been sleeping. A proper day's rest had been eluding Sascha for a while now. After he'd last woken up, Sascha couldn't think of any other way to exhaust himself further without venturing out into the sun.

He must have been at this longer than he'd thought, Sascha realized. For someone to be at his door meant the sun was already down. Blearily, Sascha wiped an arm across his face and tossed the duster in a random direction.

He stumbled to the door, not fast enough to open it before Cerpin began talking. The sound of the purpleblood's voice gave Sascha pause and caused him to awaken somewhat. Cerpin was agitated. It was still a foreign state for Sascha to see him in. However, the rarity allowed Sascha to put two and two together. Perhaps it was more like one and one.

Sascha unbolted the door and opened it. He was wearing ratty sweatpants and nothing else. "This got anything to do with that red girl at the booths?" Sascha asked bluntly. He leaned in the door frame, not bothering to invite Cerpin in. His hive was no place for guests and Sascha knew it; though he showed no further sign of shame for his hovel.  

[Yamashii]

The cramped chaotic inside of Sacha's hive caught Cerpin's attention but didn't seem to bother him. He understood the impulse to hoard even if for different reasons. His was out of flights of fancy and a lack of self control. The yellowblood probably had his own quirks, or needs, that caused him to keep hold of everything he'd ever owned.

Cerpin shrugged as if it didn't bother him to talk about the red girl from that night at the booths but his discomfort and irritation showed on his face instead. But he needed the help. He couldn't afford to be stingy with information. Sascha's lazy position against the door frame made it clear this would not be important to the yellowblood unless Cerpin made it interesting. Or worthwhile in some form.

"... it is. She's been building something for me in the desert." It wasn't a lie exactly but it was toeing the line a little. "She ran off before she finished it. We're going to search the item for clues if she's been back to it and trace her down from there." He looked Sascha up and down, and motioned at his bare chest.

"As fetching as you look, put something on. We're leaving as soon as you're ready." He cocked his head to the side, towards the shining motorcycle chained to a pole outside on the street. It was an odd day on Alternia for him to skip the flirtations, he mused to himself. This meant a lot more to him that he liked to admit. Evidence on how serious he was taking this was piled on the back of it in a crate. A long coil of rope, several bottles of water, a spare portable recuperacoon if it came to that. The tent he'd managed to pack was small in order to keep the travel load light but it would hold the two of them even if not comfortably.

"Help me with this and I owe you one. Redeemable for whatever the ******** you want."

seekingCylem

let's go on a journey

 

[seekingCylem]

Hit the nail right on the corkscrew-horned head. The briefest smirk flashed across Sascha's mouth before settling back into the tone of the conversation proper. Sascha tried not to let the potential for juicy gossip affect his already fragile impulse control. Cerpin needed something from him, and Sascha didn't work for free.

...And yet here Cerpin was using "we," as if Sascha was already bags packed, suited up for a wilderness adventure, and not standing in his own home wearing pajamas. Sascha couldn't tell if the chutzpah inspired him to endearment or spite. He was about to retort accordingly when Cerpin cut him off.

A favor. Normally Sascha would scoff at such vague lip service. Cerpin was a rare exception. He had a lot of strings and no fear of yanking on them. Hard. Sascha's sponsorship was proof enough, as was this precise moment. Sascha's narrowed expression turned thoughtful.

He sighed. "What are friends for?" It was the only indication of a positive response as Sascha slammed his door shut.

No small amount of clattering and swearing later, and Sascha reemerged. He was fully dressed in a familiar jumpsuit and carrying a backpack. It had been a while since he'd worn his old uniform. Sascha was surprised by the metaphorical comfort that accompanied the physical. He felt prepared despite not knowing much more than he had before Cerpin had showed up on his doorstep.

"I'm a lot of things, but I'm not a detective. And I don't know s**t about your old pal. I can fend off shadowdroppers and bandits or whatever other unfortunate saps 're dead in the skull enough to try and survive out there, but the sleuthing nonsense is on you."

Sascha strode up to Cerpin's bike and use a couple of carabiners to attach his bag to the pile. He slapped the vehicle decisively and turned back to Cerpin.

"Welp! Lead the way."

Yamashii

 

[Yamashii]

It was odd to see the yellowblood in a jumpsuit uniform, as opposed to the flashy stuff he'd toured in during the competition prior. It fit the boy like a glove and Cerpin's eyes wandered over the various pockets. Tevini would've liked its functionality. He wondered if the pockets were filled with useful items like knives and bandages or random junk like ration wrappers and CD players.

"That works for me. Thanks for coming, Sash." The purpleblood patted Sascha's shoulder in gratitude. Cerpin tugged a motorcycle helmet on as Sascha secured his bag. Unfortunately, he only had one and since he would be driving, he was going to take it. If they got in a crash or something, the yellowblood could force debris away from himself or whatever. Getting comfortable on the seat, he nudged his head for the other boy to hold on behind him. This would have been much more enjoyable riding in a military vehicle but even Cerpin Sugall couldn't get his hands on one of those.

With that, the two of them sped off down the dusty roads of Chittentown, heading towards the outskirts. They nearly crashed into a couple of trolls trying to peddle their wares and had to slow down numerous times to wade through busier parts of the city. Cerpin let out a huff of annoyance at the crowds. He had work to do and didn't enjoy stop and go traffic that wasted the moonlit hours.

He hollered at a frustrated couple trying to cross in front of him. They shuffled through the intersection as slowly as possible as petty revenge. The motorcycle roared aggressively once they were through and Cerpin gunned the motor the rest of the way out of town. That could have also been a product of Cerpin's inexperience driving the machine. He'd only had a chance to use it a handful of times before this trip.

"Finally, open road. I'm gonna take us a couple miles out before we start messing around off road." He called back loudly over his shoulder to his companion. "Keep your eyes peeled for any massive metallic things that don't look like hives. Let me know if you see anything!" He turned his vision forward again, not paying much attention to the road behind them. Cerpin kept glancing to the side, squinting to see any clues of rocketships or exploded debris.

He completely missed the grease covered, sun burnt gang of raiders poking their head out after hearing the sound of a loud flashy motorbike coming their way...

seekingCylem

feel free to ******** up these raiders pre-emptively, yell insults at them or whatever, or i can have them attack in my next post!

 

[seekingCylem]

"Yeah, yeah," Sascha muttered, displaying some level of discomfort with the sincerity of Cerpin's words. He shifted until he was content with the amount of space between himself, the luggage, and Cerpin and wrapped his arms around the latter.

Sascha found himself grateful Cerpin didn't have backsweeping horns. The arrangement on the bike was already proving to be precarious as Cerpin swerved through traffic on the top-heavy vehicle. Eventually they escaped the walls of Chittentown and hit the open road. Sascha found the speed far less harrowing than muddling about between pedestrians. "Sure thing! You're the one driving!" Sascha shouted back. He was fortunate Lorata had provided him with those fancy shades. Between the wind, sand and his own hair, it was harder to spot anything in the wide, empty space than one would have anticipated.

However, the vastness of the desert made anything that wasn't explicitly sand or sky stand out like a busted horn. Sascha's eyes narrowed as he tried to understand the distant specks over the dunes. Orange horns caught the moonlight and Sascha snarled. "We've got company," he said, just over the roar of the engine, and knuckled Cerpin in the ribs.

Yamashii

 

[Yamashii]

Cerpin strained to hear Sascha over the engine but he definitely felt the dig at his ribs. For a moment he reached to swat the hands away, thinking Sascha might be messing with him or worse, mugging him for the bike. A glance towards whatever the yellowblood was pointing at convinced him though. They sped up as Cerpin tried to get some more distance between them and the raiders. He could handle losing the motorcycle but he didn't have time to get his a** kicked by a bunch of dickheads in the desert.

"We gotta keep going! Buy us some time-" It was hard to be heard through the helmet and over the sound of the wind rushing past them. Maybe Sascha had a weapon to attack them back with. It seemed unlikely but he was covered in pockets. It was lucky that the road was free of oncoming traffic but also somewhat odd. It didn't take long to figure out why though.

Up ahead loomed a giant cloud of sand, stretching far across the horizon and high into the sky.

"Dammit, not now!" He hit his fist against the handlebar in frustration, causing them to swerve dangerously. Cerpin scrambled to correct this. He only had two choices now. Avoid the sand storm and face the bandits or take his chances driving through it. He gunned the engine, rocketing them forward at a dizzying speed. The wind was stronger the closer they got to the wall. He'd never seen a storm this angry before.

"Can you fly us over it?! Over the storm? Do it!" It was both a desperate idea and a terrible one. There was no way he could demand something like this from Sascha but he wasn't thinking straight.

seekingCylem

 

[seekingCylem]

Sascha had been preoccupied with keeping an eye on the raiders. He didn't see the cloud approach over the dunes until Cerpin cursed. Sascha broke his glare to stare wide-eyed at the approaching. "s**t... s**t!" Sascha first muttered, then yelled as the bike swerved.

The warning grip he latched onto Cerpin slackened at the purpleblood's demand. "WHAT!? I can't do that! I've seen entire districts smaller than that thing! Find cover!"

Sascha hauled himself up, using Cerpin's shoulders for leverage. He turned at the waist to glower back at the bandits. They'd undoubtedly lose their nerve before following the duo into the storm. Unfortunately for them, they'd caught Sascha in a bad mood. His eyes sparked red. Sascha removed one hand from Cerpin's shoulder and whipped it in the direction of their tail. One of the enemy motorcycles flipped perpendicular, catching two others and tangling their riders in a wreck of smoke and metal. Those that had escaped the initial wreck swerved and slowed in their confusion. Sascha hissed and threw himself back into his seat. "Eyes on the road, Sugall! There's gotta be some cave or old hive around here somewhere! I can fight whatever lives there, but I can't fight the weather!"

Sascha pulled an old yellow bandana from his suit and haphazardly tied it around his nose and mouth. He needed to save his lungs if he was going to b***h Cerpin out later for dragging him into this mess.

Yamashii

 

[Yamashii]

The chaotic sounds of the crash Sascha orchestrated behind them were barely audible over the volume of the wind by this point. Cerpin could hear the yellowblood's shouting and nodded, squinting and scanning the area for any such cave or cranny they could hole up in. Unfortunately for them, visibility was greatly impaired. He was certain there was some kind of building on the horizon but it was pretty far off the road and he couldn't make out many details about it. In a couple of seconds, it was engulfed in the cloud.

"Hold on, we're going in!" He glanced back at Sascha and was relieved to see the other boy had figured out a makeshift mask to protect his lungs. Revving the engine, the two of them sped forward at the top speeds the motorcycle could offer. It was a good thing he had outfitted the bike with tires that could handle traveling on sand or they would have been in a s**t ton more trouble.

Even with a helmet on, it was almost impossible to see where he was going. His eyes and lungs were protected but there was too much sand blowing around in the air. They were effectively driving blind at this point, bee-lining straight towards a building Cerpin thought he had seen. He could only hope he wasn't driving them off a cliff into a desert canyon of some kind. The wind was so strong now that he could feel the resistance pushing against them violently as they pressed onwards.

A large dry branch from a dead tree flew past them, narrowly missing the bike. Cerpin swore, starting to panic and swerve the motorcycle to dodge loose debris flying about. The storm wasn't strong enough to rip boulders and toss them around but loose plant life and parts of abandoned hives were fair game. Blood pulsing through his body at an alarming rate, it was all the purpleblood could do to keep his hands tightly wrapped around the handlebars. His vision was getting hazier and hazier until he could barely see a few feet in front of him. Sascha was going to kill him for this if they survived.

"SASCHA!" He shouted, head whipping around a little too fast to look for his companion. The winds continued hitting against the building at top speed, shaking the entire thing like it was built out of cardboard. Cerpin was scared it was going to collapse on them after they'd broken some of its supports but he didn't know if it was better or worse outside. Spotting the yellowblood, he staggered over, yanking the helmet off of his own head. If Sascha could see, he might be able to keep the roof from crashing down and crushing them with any energy he had left. Whoever had built this place had left it empty without any tools to help them.

"Put it on!" Cerpin held his cape wrapped around his nose and mouth to protect against the clouds of sand pouring in through the newly created holes in the wall.

seekingCylem

they have arrived at one of the construction practice structures outside of mahmud's abandoned hive! i cleared it with skyli and we have permission to explore inside mahmud's old place as well. : 3

 

[seekingCylem]

The shades could only give so much protection against the sands. It was up to Cerpin and his motorcycle visor to guide the pair to safety. Sascha did what little he could to shield his face with Cerpin's shoulder.

The motorcycle swerved beneath the boys. There was no universe in which Sascha would have been able to predict the proximity of the approaching building. The ironclad grip Sascha had been maintaining around Cerpin's waist was wrenched open from the impact of the bike against the siding. Sascha ricocheted off the slanted ceiling of the structure and was caught across the torso by the makeshift rafters as he fell to the floor. Despite near unconsciousness, he rolled to his side and heaved spit and bile into the debris.

"What the...What the hell!" Sascha slurred in a tone that implied he was trying to make much more noise than he was actually producing. He groaned and curled in on himself. The sunglasses he'd been wearing had shattered, leaving a nasty stream of yellow cascading down his face. It had already become hideously sticky with sand. Sascha blearily looked up at Cerpin through the haze of physical trauma, dust, and blood. It took him a long moment to parse what was being asked of him. Withe effort, he took the helmet.

Sascha awkwardly hooked the rig around his skull. It had been adjusted for someone with horns in a wildly different position from his own. It fit well enough for its intended purposes, though, and had the benefit of muffling some of the raging winds. Sascha felt his clarity return albeit with a piercing headache.

He could see the construction of the building was crude, and the materials even more so. Proper wood was difficult to come by in the desert. Most of the materials appeared to be reclaimed. They were in less a hive and more a playhouse. However, that implied they weren't in complete wilderness. There was still a chance of a proper building being nearby. Sascha staggered to his feet and scanned their surroundings for- "Aha."

Sascha roughly grabbed Cerpin and pulled him close. With his other hand he pointed his open palm at his target. Part of the opposite wall was propped up with an enormous sheet of thick particle board. Sascha grunted against the pain in his skull and the board crackled red. With a crunch that displaced two corners and several nails, the board flew to Sascha. It rotated mid-air to shield the pair as the shanty slumped down under the pressure of the wind and lack of support. "C'mon! Move!" Sascha pulled Cerpin along by the shoulder as he ran out into the storm. The board shifted again as Sascha placed it between themselves and the wind. Both it and Sascha shuddered from the force. It gave them the protective bubble they needed to slog through the storm... At least for however long Sascha's powers would hold. Blood dripped from beneath the jaw of the helmet.

Yamashii

 

[Yamashii]

Cerpin allowed Sascha to yank him around to wherever he needed to be. It was hard to think unless he concentrated strongly on the task, with the distracting pain spread across parts of his body. Strong winds and sand made hearing and seeing anything outside of their shanty too difficult and he opted to just press his head into the left side of Sascha's neck and shoulder for now. Adrenaline was keeping him awake but he could already feel his body slowing down from the pain. Smears of yellow streaked down from the helmet which meant Sascha was probably in even worse condition. He hadn't had protective gear when they'd survived the initial crash. There wasn't much they could do now though. Not until the storm passed.

They waited in silence, sand whirling around them as winds tore at parts of other structures in the area. Some of them fell to shambles while others remained stable in place. Somehow the sound of their bloodpumpers was still audible above all else.

Two minutes. They just had to last two more minutes.

Cerpin repeated this mantra in his head multiple times as if repetition could make it come true. Four minutes passed, then another six. He shifted to ease the strain on his right leg. There was no getting comfortable after the injuries they had sustained but they could become less uncomfortable. Four more minutes. The sound of the wind lessened. Eight more. The walls around them stopped shaking. A peek outside revealed there was still a cloud of dust in the air. Six minutes. It was quiet, the sandstorm rolling over and past them peacefully now. Two more minutes and they could see the faint outline of a much bigger building a short walk away. It had two stories and a swing dangling half broken out front. Cerpin was willing to bet that someone lived or had lived there. They might be able to find supplies.

"Oof. Come on, just a little longer and you can rest." He grunted and heaved himself under one of Sascha's arms and upwards. His legs felt wobbly from the heavy scraps and bruising they'd gotten when flying through the wall earlier but they worked well enough to carry both of them to the abandoned hive.

"... is that... what it feels like? The fear. When you're about to die." Cerpin struggled to get the words out while also struggling with the door. He was having a hard time dealing with what had just happened. He remembered Sascha talking about a room full of fire in the past. He hadn't asked about it then, it hadn't seemed relevant. It did now. Sascha was made of tough stuff to weather disasters like this without letting the trauma show much.

Somehow, he was jealous of that. He wanted to see the ugly frightened parts of the psionic, the vulnerable incompetent sides of him. The weaknesses he saw in himself that Sascha did not seem to possess.

seekingCylem

 

[seekingCylem]

They were in some kind of nondescript construction zone. Either that, or they were thrown into the area's shittiest subgrub. Debris of all kinds blustered past in the wind and grit. Sascha grunted each time something collided with his makeshift shield.

Cerpin muttered something into Sascha's neck and then re-positioned himself. Heaving upward, some of Sascha's weight was taken onto Cerpin's shoulders. He didn't have the strength to complain. The end, or at the very least, some semblance of safety was within sight. The press board collided with the wall of the hive. Sascha held fast while Cerpin struggled with the door.

He barely heard Cerpin's words over the roaring of the wind and the swimming in his skull. He spent an odd moment staring down at Cerpin through the tinted mask as he struggled to find words amidst the panic. The pain. The heat. The haze. Fear. Fear in knowing he'd never made a name for himself and never would.

"I'm not alone this time," was all Sascha had to say on the matter.

Sascha dropped his control of the plywood and threw himself bodily at the surface of the door.

Yamashii

 

[Yamashii]

Cerpin's face softened into a moment of surprise at Sascha's comment. He hadn't expected that to matter to the yellowblood. Thinking back on it, though, he supposed he had always had Tevini at his side to help him through hellish encounters. He watched wordlessly as Sascha slammed against the door and broke it open. Staggering inside, he was pleased to see the hive had supplies in it. There was also a large nest full of random junk. Cerpin didn't know what to make of that right now.

He didn't think Sascha would suffer too much long term from the effects of the blood loss. Trolls were made to survive damage like this. But he was probably mentally exhausted after sustaining his powers that long. It seemed the recuperacoon was on the upper floor because he wasn't seeing it in this tiny one room first floor. Right now he didn't have the strength to lift and carry Sascha up a floor unfortunately. The psionic would just have to suffer the daymares when he passed out. So would Cerpin.

"I'm sorry." He mumbled awkwardly, knowing well that this adventure had taken quite a toll on them while yielding no results. He didn't know what else to say or if either of them were in any condition to talk or plan a way home. He decided to rest in a chair by a small table with some plates stacked on it. He almost hoped Sascha would be too tired to scold or blame him for this. Resting his head in his hands, he focused on relaxing his body which was hard to do through the aching pains from the earlier collision.

seekingCylem

 

[seekingCylem]

Sascha tumbled through the open door. He caught himself on the way down, but ended up skidding into a heap regardless. Cerpin staggered in after him and Sascha kicked the door shut with a crack. He didn't count on it holding with a busted lock, but Sascha would take any reduction of sand he could get.

He breathed heavily from his place on the floor. He didn't yet trust the relative silence and lack of biting wind. Eventually he found it within himself to struggle at least enough to prop himself up off the floor. Cerpin's words nearly surprised him into falling over again. Clumsily, Sascha unbuckled the helmet. It fell to the floor and wobbled some distance. More sand collected in a pile where Sascha sat. His hair was a ratty mess. His face was a nigh indiscernible wash of blood and sand, though the primary offenders seemed to be his hairline and nose. His sclera were bright red with stress.

Sascha wiped his forearm under his nose, only further smearing yellow across his face and sleeve. "Yeah..." Sascha replied, unsure what to say about the situation. It wasn't like him to care about the comfort of other people. At least the last time he had an especially harrowing experience he was too comatose to deal with the brunt of the ensuing emotional fallout.

This wasn't nearly as bad, however. It gave Sascha comfort. They weren't going to die here. He was filthy and in pain, but ultimately alive and unbroken. Probably. He had been thrown from a motorcycle into a building. Sascha stumbled onto all fours with a pained groan. "This place's gotta have an ablution basin or something. Just gotta... clean out this head wound..." God, he hadn't even stood up yet and the world was already pitching sideways. Was the wind really this strong?

Yamashii