𝐁𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐀𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐲𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬 One wrong turn down the 𝑀𝑎𝑖𝑛 𝑆𝑡𝑟𝑒𝑒𝑡 and you'll find yourself down one of the claustrophobic back alleyways of the city. Some people prefer these little corners of Ozymandias, hoping to look for things generally not offered in the main shops, or are unwilling to wait for the Auction House to open.
Chocolate brown eyes glistened in the fading light of the setting sun as they scanned the alleyways, their owner a tall male who was leisurely sitting on top of one of the slightly smaller buildings of the city. The male hummed idly to himself as he watched the shadows grow and shrink with the light that was slowly giving way to darkness, the quiet city coming to life with the rise of the moon. Dogs barking, gunshots being fired in the distance, fights breaking out all across the city, music to his ears. The male known as Yuu was never fond of the day, too bright and nothing happening, boring really. The night however he adored, watching the anarchy of the city was a joy, the world was full of such interesting people. However he was quickly yanked from his thoughts when he caught a lone shadow wandering the alleyways in the corner of his eye and looked down to see someone or something had found their way to the alley beneath him, oh how fun. At that he jumped down from his perch and landed perfectly on his feet in the shadows a short distance away from the being who looked to be looking through a bag of supplies. He watched with intrigue as the figure moved about before moving closer to get a better look at the being who was before him. A man by the looks of it, a scrawny one at that, barely any meat on those bones. Yuu watched the man idly as he remained hidden in the shadows, seemed the man had been scavenging while trying to survive just that one more day. It was a pathetic existence and one Yuu was glad he never faced, living like that made you nothing more than prey for the predators, a pawn in the twisted game they all called life. He felt no sympathy for such a weak being, what he felt was amusement, this poor sap was screwed no matter how you looked at it, if hunger didn't kill him the mercenaries or masters would. Should he spare him the suffering or let him waste away? This question occupied his mind as he watched the man shamble about and soon an answer came in the form of a plethora of voices echoing in his head;
'Let him suffer.'
'No wipe him out, he's useless anyway.'
'Not worth the time, he won't even be much fun to play with.'
'Who cares, his death won't be missed.'
'Agreed, he's nothing but a worthless pawn anyway, kill him.'
At those last words the sentences dissolved into the same phrase being uttered over and over as the urge to kill rose within Yuu, a constant stream of wicked glee. Yuu tried to fight back the voices but slowly they overtook his thoughts and he couldn't find a safe place in his mind away from the endless chanting. The chanting grew louder and more intense as he covered his ears in hopes of dulling them, his eyes falling closed, but they continued to bombard him until finally all of the voices shouted in unison,KILL HIM!At that last cry his eyes snapped open and he attacked the man, madness in his eyes. Several strikes and a stab to the chest later the man collapsed to the ground, Yuu standing above him covered in splattered crimson and a wicked grin on his face. He stood there for a few moments just staring at the lifeless body before him, his face unreadable but his eyes full of a mixture of feelings. He then lowered himself down to the ground next to the man and placed his empty hand on the man's chest, Yuu's skin staining red within seconds, before reaching up and closing the now lifeless eyes that seemed to stare into his very soul. Once done with that he slumped back as he moved his stained hand away and chuckled, the sound dark yet sullen. He then looked to the sky for a while, the voices that were tormenting him moments before now eerily silent. After a bit longer Yuu slowly got to his feet and grabbed the man's bag of supplies before calmly walking into the shadows, heading for a place to sell the things he had acquired.
Cade had come upon the corpse by accident, but once he'd found it he'd drug it further down the alley, propping it slightly against a weathered milk crate.
He looked down at his right arm. It was, unfortunately, his dominant arm, and it was beginning to soften with decay. Bone was visible along two of the fingers, muscle bare and putrefying along the underside of the forearm. He couldn't use it like this.
And that's where the corpse came in. He took a deep breath in, the sound of a man steeling himself for an unpleasant task.
The day before, Cade had successfully bartered for something that could be used for the task he was now undertaking. It was a long, broad knife, nearly blunt when it had been sold to him and since sharpened fastidiously along its several feet long length. To go to the auction house had been risky, and he'd cloaked himself heavily. Still, this arm had been a danger. He stank, and it would be good to be rid of it.
Close to useless, it was hard to get the fingers of his right arm to close around it, leaving him to rely mostly on his left hand. The left had been the weaker in life, and he was still adjusting, trying to make it his dominant hand, with little success, despite years of life as he was now. Eventually he managed it, positioned himself on top of the milk crate, set the tip of the large knife against the alley floor, and began to saw. He was aiming for a specific point in the shoulder, working around and under the joint. The first few inches, the skin and muscle and tendon, were easy to cut through. The bone was more difficult, even more so than might be expected because he was trying to preserve the joint, keep the limb as near to intact as possible. Trial and error had taught him that the transfer and stitching went better, the limb lasted longer, if he kept the bone intact, sawed through at just the right point.
It was a laborious, difficult process. He slipped several times, chipping through little by little by little.
Halfway through, Cade took break, stopping to search the man, see if he had anything on him. He didn't expect anything, and indeed—nothing. The man, whoever he was, had probably been killed for whatever objects he had had on him. Cade patted the corpse's intact shoulder in grim sympathy, and went back to work.
Eventually, he pulled the limb away. This done, he rose from the milk crate to seat himself firmly against the filthy wall. There was no point in worrying about hygiene, he'd found. He carefully pulled out strong, catgut thread and a long, thin bone needle. He had had too many needles snap on him, leave him floundering with a halfway attached leg. And so, he always kept a surplus, and since discovering them always used bone. Carefully, he tied a knot at the end of a long length of thread, threaded the needle, laying it next to the new limb, both in easy reach of his left arm.
Resting again for a few moments, he prepared himself for the sickening task of removing the right arm. Using a small pen knife, he began cutting stitches, face set in disgusted, determined lines. The more stitches he removed, the less feeling he had in the arm, until he couldn't move it at all, and it separated from his body. Cade threw it hard away from him, not wanting to look at it. It had served him well for the past few weeks, but he'd ******** up the transfer, and so it had started rotting quickly. He'd do better this time.
Taking the new, still-bleeding arm, Cade simply held it against his body for five minutes or so, head resting against the filthy wall behind him while he counted in his head. Whatever magic or virus or force held him together began to spread through the foreign arm. He could feel it working, as he slowly started to gain feeling in 'his' arm. Muscles twitched in the bicep, the wrist rotated, and finally the ring finger flicked up. He breathed carefully out, both in relief and new preparation.
Now the sewing. He had to wait until he could feel it. It hurt every time. But he was a good soldier. He'd do it, and then he wouldn't smell of rotting flesh anymore. Not once he'd found somewhere to wash himself off.
Taking the needle up, he began to work.
Posted: Thu Oct 05, 2017 1:44 pm
••• Honey
Honey was lost.
He knew he was lost, had indeed been lost for some time.
This happened, unless it was to one of the two locations outside of Haven that he'd been sent to most frequently. Being outside of Haven was unsettling, the rules governing the outside both clearly there and ephemeral, presenting themselves and demanding behavior from him he didn't know how to conform to. Every time, his body knotted itself into tense quadrants, strung lines of stress that whipped about and were liable to respond poorly to the most innocuous of greetings, until he had fulfilled whatever it was St. Vier wanted from him and he could retreat gratefully to his rooms.
On this day, Honey had been sent on a more general mission than he was used to: his task was to search for a suitable candidate for an experiment St. Vier was interested in undergoing, a general scounting mission where he was to walk the main streets to search generally for subjects who fitted certain requirements. The requirements were both vague and strict, an anxiety-making combination: they amounted to humans who could withstand certain modifications to make them resemble a certain other, nonhuman race, mostly. They called for hearty stock, a certain kind of musculature, certain sizes. Most of the humans he'd seen that day he'd dismissed, and felt good doing so.
Honey knew, after all, what St. Vier intended, knew the fate he would be sending anyone he deemed suitable.
He looked actively for disqualifications.
That one's knees looked weak—he would never survive the added weight.
That one was too unattractive—even if St. Vier modified the jawline, added to the torso and hips, there was a baseline attractiveness that was simply necessary for these kind of flashy acquisitions.
Again and again he dismissed those he saw, and at no point did the Kir walking behind him intervene. At no point on his increasingly unclear, halting journey did the Kir even acknowledge him, either to press on a potential passerby or to guide him along the correct path as, the longer he was outside Haven, grew increasingly nervous and stressed.
The air smelled different out here.
It felt different on his skin. Shouldn't he be getting more used to that, the longer he was outside?
Honey kept flinching away from every passing breeze, the coolness of the air unfamiliar and, to the scantily dressed slave, entirely unwelcome.
The lack of intervention was expected; he knew better than to appeal to the Kir at any point. It wouldn't help him. Likely, the Kir wouldn't do anything at all unless Honey was in mortal danger. Maybe not even then. He had no idea what orders St. Vier had given it.
Fingers twisted, white-knuckled, around sparse beads in a rosary strung around his neck, and Honey fought to control his breath, which was beginning to come out harsh and quick, the beginning stages of panic, as he turned down a street into what looked, once he entered it, to be an alley. This couldn't be right.
He didn't even know, now, how to return to Haven.
He stopped suddenly, stumbling forward slightly when the massive bulk of the Kir bumped into him from behind, sending him forward toward a—figure.
Honey had seen his share of corpses, in various states. Probably everyone living now had. Honey had also, rarely, seen figures converted to be living versions of corpses—cold, paralyzed figures, still alive to feel the necrophiliac's touch but incapable of judgment, alive only to prevent putrefaction.
He'd even been present, had assisted, in the 'training' (more, 'creation') of such a slave, had held the forceps while St. Vier reached into a living being's insides and altered, snipped, cut until paralysis was complete.
This wasn't that.
For one, the corpse was clearly moving. Its posture was both casual and intent, clearly intent, on its task.
The voice inside his head that was St. Vier, was the result of years and years of knowing what would interest the man, breathed fascination into his ear, and he tried to back up, away, to save the creature.
He ran against the wall of flesh that was the Kir, solid behind him.
Honey glanced up, noticed the blank eyes turned in the animated corpse's direction, and accepted that he would be approaching the creature.
He had no idea what the creature saw; if it saw anything at all. Some superstitious, irrational part of him wondered if St. Vier himself could see -through- his creatures' eyes.
A shiver ran through him, gooseflesh breaking out on his arms, and Honey turned reluctantly back to the creature.
Okay.
It was okay. He'd just have to find something to excuse it from his master's influence.
Maybe it was unattractive.
He moved to a safe distance away, close enough to see its face, set to its ********. No, it was attractive. The bone structure was, in fact, one St. Vier preferred, the hair thick, the nose straight and well-formed; the body muscular, able.
This--
Okay. God, fine.
Reluctantly, he approached.
”...Hello. Are you alright, sir? Do you need help?”
Maybe it would just run. Maybe it would look up, see the Kir, and just run for it.
Unfortunately, Cade was only mostly done sewing when he heard the steady, then stumbling, steps of bodies approaching. There was no hurrying such precise work, and he rocked slightly forward, mumbling under his breath as he tried to simultaneously look up to see who was approaching and if they looked like a threat to him, and down toward his shoulder where he was attempting to finish one of the five stitches he'd need before he could fully tighten the arm to his shoulder and have full movement.
Arm cheated away from those approaching, he could only guess that his own body—the angle of it, the position—both hid what he was doing with his hand and the de-limbed corpse he'd let fall forward off of the milk crate into an untidy heap at his feet.
Still mid-stitch, he took a true look toward the voices and froze in the act of stitching, standing swiftly quickly thereafter.
It wasn't the man who'd spoke that caused the defensive reaction, which had him even now pulling the existing stitches tight, to hell with the last few, stepping back slightly (but not so far he couldn't dive for the overlarge knife).
He'd grown used to unusual-looking people in the past twenty or so years. Before then, sure, a nonhuman might have provoked a reaction. His family, the families around him, had been entirely human. But now? Antlers, the piercings, the unseasonable clothing, weren't enough to spook him. Neither, necessarily, was the weight of some kind of weapon strapped to the man's waist He, himself, was armed, and he wouldn't consider himself dangerous to random passerby. Most of the time, anyway. The huge, muscular man behind him, in and of himself, wouldn't have provoked the reaction either.
It was the large man's eyes. Dead eyes. Doll's eyes, unfocused but somehow looking at him all the same. They reminded him of eyes of certain footsoldiers: those whose brains had shut off; those who had accepted they were going to die or didn't care anymore, who weren't even scared they were just...nothing. He didn't want to be around someone who felt nothing.
”Woah, woah”Cade cautioned, one hand coming up to ward the antlered man off, the other moving half-up and then flopping down again, only sort of responsive.
”Don't...I'm fine. Please go away. I don't want to hurt you.”The implied threat at the end wasn't optimal since it could be escalating, but was rather reactionary, his concern made manifest.
Posted: Thu Oct 05, 2017 8:35 pm
••• Honey
Honey breathed a long-suffering sigh.
Of course. It made his life harder that the corpse—the corpse, still moving on its own, a clear anomaly that St. Vier would be interested in—was already on the defensive, so of course that was what was happening.
He'd try again, but after a certain point it would be ridiculous to pretend he wasn't going to keep moving forward even if the other didn't want him to. He tried to assume that other people were reasonably intelligent. That they would know, and be right to suspect, that after a certain point he was just going to try to attack them.
Would his stun baton even work? He hoped he didn't have to find out. If he bungled this second attempt as bad as the first, he probably would. He eyed the corpse's muscular torso and mouthed '********' to himself. The corpse had some weight on him. In and out, he didn't want to get in any kind of a grapple.
And so he tried again to give a neutral greeting, following the corpse's gaze back toward—the Kir. Ah.
”Oh, you're worried about him? It's okay, he's harmless. Right, Kir? Why don't you tell the nice man you're harmless.”
He figured phrasing it as a request rather than an order might give him traction. Might provoke the silent figure to do or say—anything.
No such luck.
Characteristically, the Kir did nothing he requested, didn't even acknowledge Honey had spoken to it. Honey's mouth thinned into an irritated line.
Of course. Of course this couldn't be easy.
He had never been good at 'recruitment' anyway. It required too much creativity, too much freethinking, neither of which were his strong suits. Still, he couldn't just walk away. If the Kir -did- see, -did- process, it would be—bad for him to just walk away.
And so.
Taking another step forward, he noticed the bloody body at the corpse's feet. He noticed the large--quite large--knife a moment later. The sight provoked no reaction in him; nothing at all. That was, until it occurred to him that no reaction was unnatural.
Wasn't it? How was he supposed to react? A normal person would be—scared?
Not knowing produced another stab of anxiety, and it was with a sharper tone that he followed up his step forward with,
”Really, this doesn't have to be hard. I'm just trying to talk to you, for Christ's sake.” His head tilted to one side, and he took another experimental step forward. The Kir at his back had gone still, not following his movements forward. Well. It would do whatever it would do. Honey hoped he could at least rely on it to carry the body back, if it came to that.
Practiced as he was in exactly this, Cade could feel the antlered man's words ring hollow, even before the dead-eyed man at his back failed to live up to any promise of safety the man offered. He kept his posture as still as he could, trying not to broadcast any intent to either engage or run. The antlered man took a step forward toward him, and he was almost close enough to touch now. He intended to keep that distance between them.
The antlered man's gaze flickered down, and Cade took the opportunity to slide his posture down, left hand generally sinking down toward the knife. Then the man stepped closer, into touching distance, following the intrusion with irritated, clearly threatening speech.
Cade snapped his hand down, trusting that hand at least to catch and hold the knife, and he was backing up quickly, dragging the knife along with him. It was too heavy for one hand. He could lift it, but it would be slow and imprecise to actually use it, considering the three foot length. He hadn't intended to use it defensively, just to replace his arm, but it seemed foolhardy to drop a weapon in the face of someone who might be attacking him. Was he being attacked? It was kind of hard to tell. Certainly the deliberate trek toward him, the last statement, were obviously threatening. But the antlered man's expression wasn't malicious, precisely. There was none of the morbid humor of a butcher, or the clear decision or blankness of a soldier, no greed or particular desperation. Oddly, if Cade had to characterize the other man's expression, he would have said he looked uncomfortable or irritated. He couldn't figure out what that meant, and it didn't matter.
”You can talk from there” he warned, fingers tightening around the knife.
”State your business.”
Posted: Fri Oct 13, 2017 1:55 pm
••• Honey
Honey's hand dropped into the general vicinity of the stun baton, not actually placing his hand over it but letting it dangle loosely nearby. With that knife, the corpse's reach was quite a bit further than his. The question of whether the baton would even work on a corpse didn't occur to him. There was, after all, some force, some electrical current keeping the thing moving and apparently sentient.
He didn't know what to do. He could attack, but it was unclear to him if that was the right thing to do. Maybe the corpse could outrun him. Would that be okay? If he failed, it wouldn't be like he hadn't tried to do as he imagined St. Vier wanted. But without any actual order to take the thing in, he was left to make his own decisions—or rather, the version of his own decisions that he came to with one of St. Vier's guards at his back.
What he didn't want to do was—negotiate. It wasn't a skill of his. He had none of St. Vier's charm or projected hospitality. He couldn't, or at least wasn't skilled at, deceiving with his body language, or even in crafting particularly credible lies. Maybe he had been once, but now?
Now he was good at following orders. He had to wonder what impulse had led him to approach in the first place. Some...strong sense of his master looking over his shoulder, some demanding internal voice. Yes, that had been it.
He tried to tap into that voice now, drum up some clear idea of what he should, what he would have been ordered to do.
But nothing came; nothing more solid than the general knowledge that St. Vier would want this creature for Haven.
It was frustrating.
He couldn't handle it.
And so he simply barked out the truth. What did it matter? The corpse was already suspicious. Maybe it'd run. Maybe it would attack and force the Kir to intervene (or not). He just didn't want to think about it anymore, to think at all anymore.
”You're my business. You're ******** fascinating, and obviously his taste, so here I am making you my business.” Teeth gritted together, he added,
”I'm going to need you to come with me. Your choice how that happens.” There. Put the decision on the corpse's shoulders. He would just react.
React, and take it back to Haven with him. That was clear enough.
Cade processed the antlered man’s words for a brief second, took in the more aggressive movement forward, the blatant threat. Who was ‘he,’ he wondered idly, before making the obvious choice and deciding it didn’t matter.
A soldier might have squared up, gone on the attack. Cade was more than a soldier; he had been a great soldier, and more than that he’d been a strategist. Faced with the unknown quantities the antlered man’s inhumanity posed, along with the blank-eyed behemoth still stationary behind him, the proper response was obvious.
He backed up quickly, dropped the knife after deciding it would be too heavy and would slow him down, and ran for it. He didn’t run as well as he had when he was alive. There was an everpresent stiffness to his movements, a reluctance for joints to bend. He ran as fast he could with that in mind, ducking along alleyways and trying to open up into somewhere more public. This in itself wouldn’t stop an attempt to attack or kidnap him, but it would, or least there was a good probability that it would, temper the attempt in some ways.
On the plus side, while his gait was unwieldy, the legs themselves were in good shape, the one that needed to be changed relatively recent, well-stitched. The arm was still a problem, but he held it with the left, fingers clenched tightly around the seam at the shoulder.
He caught a glimpse of some more open space before him, grunted as he forced his legs into greater speed, and barreled out into open space.
[[Moving to: Abandoned Warehouse]]
”Gold_Star_For_Robot_Boy”
Posted: Thu Oct 19, 2017 8:20 am
••• Honey Honey tried to stop it, charging forward, giving chase for a moment before the corpse turned a corner. He made the mistake of looking back to see if the Kir was following (answer: yes, but very slowly), and by the time he turned the corner himself—the corpse had gained a lot of ground on him, turning down a small side street with two possible alleyways to run ********> he muttered with feeling, but there was audible relief in his voice.
He knew what to do now. The decision was made.
He’d chase; he’d take the corpse down. He’d drag it back, however he needed to. That was what St. Vier would want.
Nothing to parse. He just needed to act.
Thank whichever god St. Vier was loyal to today. He moved forward, choosing one pathway to move down, soon later to backtrack and try the other. His lack of a sense of direction was a problem here, too, but he no longer needed to be concerned or scared of it, particularly. He could just search.
((Note: will move to Abandoned Warehouse soon, probably after one more post cycle between Cade and Aidynn. *cue Jaws theme? * ))
𝗪𝗛𝗘𝗥𝗘: Streets, 𝗪𝗜𝗧𝗛: -. 𝗢𝗨𝗧𝗙𝗜𝗧: Short cloak, black/orange/cream pants, leather boots, 𝗛𝗘𝗔𝗟𝗧𝗛: Great
▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄
Silently Seimei was sneaking through the streets of the black alleyway while in his stealth. This was his first visit to this place, but he reveled in the delightful shadowy characteristics of these back streets, it made his shadow walking so much easier and to stay unseen. He chuckled softly to himself and smirked, walking by people as he looked at the opportunities. He had heard this was a good place to sell questionable goods. And he had plenty of those to sell. Right now he was just carrying one bag that he had filled with several stolen merchandise. He could probably just as easily have walked here normally, but he used the crowd to pickpocket along the way.
It wasn't until he saw a promising shop that he looked around and walked behind an old building, got out of his stealth and then walked normally into the streets. It was no good to give away his powers now was it? At these shadowy places there was also plenty of anger and hate to go around, so he could siphon his fill. Seimei walked to the shop and entered it. Before looking to sell some of his ware. He had sometimes quite priceless items and it earned him a lot of money, more so since he left the pirates. Once he was done selling what he could he left the place behind and once more went into stealth to get out of the streets. As great as this place was, it was no use sticking around. How would he get new wares to sell if he did?
Instead he wandered into the streets nearby, looking to see if there was any place that looked promising for one of his runs. Of course it had been rather complicated after the blasted catastrophe. Not many people had precious items left. They were either sold for hard needed coin, or even destroyed in the fights. With little found here, he instead decided to wander by places where people gathered, to see if he could pick up something about new valuables. That was part of the entire job as a thief after all.
Aidyn Frost Mercenary | Red Barron's Dog | Wolf Demon
Cut you open and make you sick Suffer, suffer, suffer like I did ≠
Aidyn's overall demeanor would shift again as they entered the questionably safer narrow space of the old city alleyways. There was only a small extent to the knowledge he had for these tight spaces, but that was simply because he only took them where he needed to. There was never any telling what might be lurking in such spaces and he was by no means immune to the unpleasant captivity this city always seemed to bring men.
His pace slowed, yet not enough that they'd have trouble keeping up a reasonable pace, just something less taxing and confusing as running. He'd keep an eye out for anything they might find beneficial to either their situation or livelihoods, knowing that the young man was hungry and still hadn't eaten. It was uncommon, but you never know when someone bolt and dropped their lunch, right?
He was right, at least in the extent of there might be something. In this case, it was a half rotted apple, likely stolen from the auction hall since food was a valuable good to be sold. He barked, offering it to the other male as a means of keeping up much needed energy. It may have been nasty, but it was still nutrients.
≠ Take the poison and lock your lips Suffer, suffer, suffer like I did
Where: Back Alleyways With: Aidyn Feeling: exhausted, fatigued, starting to starve OOC:
The red head kept his quick pace until he felt Aidyn slow, once they were far enough away from the auction house. The pace they moved at now was still reasonably quick but probably not as hard on the wolf. Nero hung his head, his previously forgotten fatigue and hunger coming back now that they were no longer in an as serious life or death situation. The male grabbed his stomach, willing the hunger pangs to go away, at least until they were completely safe. But that didn't seem like it would happen, as strong waves of pain started rippling through him from the lack of food. He did his best to ignore them and continue walking, not wanting to be a liability or a burden for the other now.
The red head was so lost in thought that he did not even notice the wolf searching and sniffing around the alley for something. He was trying to stay focused on staying on his feet and keep moving. A frown came to his face when he thought about the chance of becoming a liability if he continued to get weaker. It certainly would've made all of Aidyn's recent efforts completely meaningless if the wolf decided to hang around him and they got caught. Sighing heavily, Nero rubbed his eyes then looked up when Aidyn barked at him. Moving closer to the wolf, he noticed the other push a half rotted apple towards him.
Definently wasn't his first choice in food right now, but he didn't have much of a choice. Maybe if he had been smart, he could stolen some of the food from the auction house. But he had been so focused on getting them out of there as quick as possible, the thought hadn't crossed his mind. Picking up the apple, the red head adjusted himself to where he was sitting on the ground leaning back against the wall. "Thanks Aidyn, I really appreciate it." Nero said as he started to eat. The taste was absolutely vile but the red head just sucked it up and kept eating anyway. While he ate, he reached over and undid the collar from around the other's neck, tossing it aside.
Kitty_Mew
Posted: Fri Aug 17, 2018 1:47 pm
Aidyn Frost Mercenary | Red Barron's Dog | Wolf Demon
Cut you open and make you sick Suffer, suffer, suffer like I did ≠
It was no surprise that the adrenaline of making an escape was beginning to wear off in the two boys. They had found a relative amount of safety for the moment. The signs became clear in Nero very quickly, it was what would drive the wolf to suggest the nasty fruit rather than searching for something more palatable. Aidyn would begin to show his exhaustion. He had run into multiple dangerous characters and had been forced to fight and run so many times. Even for a demon that wears on you.
When Nero would take a seat to regain some strength, Aidyn would join him by laying on the ground beside him. Though he would remain alert in the case that they were followed by the fire demon or any other unwanted visitors. It was a gnawing, not really a fear but discomfort.
His response to the thanks was something like a disgruntled grunt. He was glad that the boy appreciated the small gesture but he still wasn't please by being on a leash. The collar was fine and he didn't care much about that, it was the feeling of not being able to run or move freely, even though he likely could. Though it was a relief that Nero would remove them both and the wolf was visibly happier for it.
Alas, they had lingered too long and the demon was starting to get restless. It was time for them to move on whether they were ready or not, and Aidyn showed this by sitting up and releasing another light bark. It was frustrating to communicate, but he felt like he was at least getting the hang of it, for the most part. The uneasy feeling of not being able to control the spell would still linger, but it was important that they reach the building he intended before his body would give out. He was just so tired now that the rush was fading.
≠ Take the poison and lock your lips Suffer, suffer, suffer like I did
Where: Back Alleyways With: Aidyn Feeling: exhausted, fatigued, starting to starve OOC: You can go ahead and move to the next area if you want ^^
The red head smiled when Aidyn laid beside him, lightly resting his free arm over the wolf's shoulders. He sighed, throwing the apple core once he had finished it. While it hadn't filled him up and he would likely need more food later, the apple had taken the edge off his hunger and he was feeling better. He still felt exhausted and his body ached, his neck and arm the most from where he had been roughly grabbed.
He leaned his head back for a moment, closing his eyes as he rested. He wasn't sure where they were going to go but he had a feeling Aidyn would have a place in mind that they would be safe. The male looked up when he felt the other move before barking at the red head. "Ready to go? Alright, I'll let you lead since you probably already have a place in mind." He stood, his body groaning in protest at the movement. He didn't want to get up but he knew the longer they stayed there, the greater the chance of them getting caught. As long as they got to a place where they could rest and eat, that would be perfectly fine with the red head.
