murdcrofcrows

[murdcrofcrows]

it watched the tensing of his frame and the sequential relaxation with a curiosity, head even tilted slightly askew in wonderment. there was some ringing in its ears about a fight or flight response, how pupils dilatate and there was something about muscles and she simply could not find the rest of the words that went along with it. she supposed if someone was going to fight they would stay tense, right? still, her hand gripped the pocket knife, in case it needed to be opened.

his hand's placement wasn't convincing, though it did darken the expression on her face as she leaned into his palm instinctually. a dare, perhaps or maybe just to let him know she wasn't afraid. odette wasn't afraid of much anymore. if she took the time to be scared of anything outside her head she would probably be scared of everything and no one had the time for all of that. not when there was mischief to be made and creations to create. it was the 'gig' that unlocked the reality for her. such a short word but it shot a burst of spring green through her brain and her unfocused eyes locked into the sharp features looking back at her. "oh, he is gg!"

odette's hand let go of the sharp she was not supposed to have, immediately batting his hand out of the way to press their foreheads together. she needed a closer look and she wasn't about to explain the reasoning behind the action, it would take too long and words were floating and moving too swift in circles and she was too excited to grab a single one. instead, she hummed a noise her eyes closed for a few short moments so she could see the waves he was sending. was it really, really him? was he mad? he didn't feel angry at her, but there was rage there that was certain.

it's eyes opened again and they moved rapidly between his. "odette thought he disappeared into the wild, never to be heard again. what is gg doing in duck's office and why is he as big as trees?" and a frown crossed it's features, a sniffle sounding as it sunk again, yet reminded of the growing chasm of dark void in its chest, how much it had missed him. "gg left he wasn't there, why?"

The giggle that carries itself to his ears is enough to tense his muscles immediately, an instinctive and quite annoyed growl escaping him, before all at once, every muscle in Gray's body relaxes. His face, normally contorted into a scowl of some sort, is unguarded and open as he moves his eyes along this creature that speaks a name he hasn't heard in... in years. No one knows it here, and if they do, they don't call him that.

With a soft clattering noise, the piece of metal Gray'd been rigorously working with to attempt his firestarting—as much as he hates Dr. Estrada, targeting the man is an easy way for Gray to ease the anxiety that keeps building and building. But whatever anxiety he'd come here to relieve is gone now as he straightens up, her words echoing in his head like a never-ending windchime. He'd never seen her, of course, he'd never seen her, and whatever he'd imagined her looking like couldn't hold a candle to the creature before him. Maybe it's not so much the shape of its face or the absolute insanity that is its hair—how he wants to see how far he can reach into that nest—or even the form of its body. The latter is... something else entirely, but only the second thing about it that has his heart hammering in his chest.

It's her eyes. Sharp, teasing, dangerous.

Without even considering that it might be a threatening thing to do—absurd, he would never harm Gig, at least not outside of pixels—Gray abandons the desk and strides over, closing the distance between them in no more than two long strides. A hand shoots out and wraps itself around its throat, no more than holding, as he lowers his body to be level with those crazy eyes.

"Gig?"

[murdcrofcrows]

where: red line diner closed starter for @insainted ( claymore )

"no, i'm tellin' you i saw fuckin' big ass red eyes in the bush near the gate." at this point it was apparent it hadn't been judah that drugged him and instead it was the fucking mothman worshippers trying to make everyone in the city 'woke' or whatever the fuck they were saying. it was stupid as shit is what it was and if anyone was awakened in that god damn city it was jonah. stupid cryptid loving motherfuckers.

"i'm just sayin', " jonah licked a bit of mustard that had fallen out of the burger off his thumb and swallowed the half chewed food that was in his mouth before opening it up to talk again. he can still feel his meemaw's hand on the back of his head for talking with his mouth full. "they better hope they gave their heart to their moth jesus god thing because their ass is mine if i come across one." not that he could tell them apart from the rest of the dumbasses in that city but the statement still stood. "you coming to the shop later?"

[murdcrofcrows]

where: the fisher airstream closed starter for @eatabug ( judah )

all he did was walk to the market for bread and to grab more tobacco because they were running low. yeah he smoked before he left, it helps with anxiety, okay? but still, that did not mean he should be hearing whispers and seeing glowing eyes and shit. what the actual fuck was going on? it was fucking tuesday for fucks sake, he couldn't be tripping balls on a tuesday. the only explanation was that his stupid fucking brother had laced their shit again and failed to mention it to jonah. that's why he was yelling before he even got into the airstream. ( that and he'd no clue if dixie stopped by. not that it would stop him, but still, there wasn't solid evidence this was his fault, yet. )

"judah! you motherfucker, i'm goin' t' kick your ass so hard you're goin' t' wish you were dead, boy." he was madder than a wampus cat in a rainstorm. he threw the bread on the counter and immediately grabbed some of the filtered water from the fridge to chug it down. jo wiped the moisture from his mouth with the back of his arm just as the room started to wobble again. "god damnit, i can't believe this shit." he huffed and sat down on the sofa. "did you buy laced shit again? it's fuckin' tuesday man, i can't be tripping balls on a tuesday i have clients tomorrow man!" he rubbed his hand across his face and looked up at little fish to see what he had to say for himself.

[murdcrofcrows]

when he stood and said her name it was all the confirmation she needed. his voice, those big wild green eyes that mirrored the green in hers. like bugs. "gray," she gasped and cupped her hands over her mouth in shock. all this time, had he been there the whole time? he couldn't have been there since he left, she is sure she would've remembered so many tattoos. did that mean he went back home? oh she hopes he never went back home. that he stayed far away from that place forever.

there were a million questions shooting through her head at rapid fire pace. but he was whispering something and coming closer and she had to open say something, to respond even if she hadn't a damn clue what the hell he was talking about. it didn't matter. he was there, she'd found him, finally. his hands grabbed her shoulders and both hers shot from her face to his cheeks.

"shouldn't have touched who?" her brows were knit with concern but her face was twisted between relief and and shock and utter bewilderment that this was happening. maybe she had inhaled that moth dust after all, this all seemed to be good to be true. there had to be some sort of catch, right? "fucking hell is it really you? i've been, i mean i was, but then i was," she paused to sort her words, what she wanted to say without telling him everything that led up to them standing in that room together. it felt like a lifetime since she'd seen him last.

"i was looking for you, i-i didn't think you were dead but i didn't know where to start." she felt her lip quiver and she hated that. her jaw clenched and she dug sharp incisors into her cheek. it hadn't been a solid ten minutes yet there was no way she was going start crying and ruin it. "i'm sorry i didn't look harder. i should have." she whispered, looking past him to will the moisture from her eyes and stop herself from latching onto him and never letting go again.

Despite being officially designated an 'engineer for Afterglow', much of engineering is off-limits for Gray. Not because there are dangerous things there—well, there are—but because it's where he could do the most damage equipped with just his head. The very head they are now threatening, marching him back to his room. Something something, confinement, blah blah blah, several weeks, Gray isn't even listening anymore at this point, glancing down a hallway, in passing, at a group of fancy looking executives.

One of the guards pushes him into his 'room' and Gray lets out a snort, not even turning to face the door as it shuts and the familiar sound of the locking mechanism heralds a few weeks of trying to cope with the anxiety of boredom. There's already something building in his stomach, but with a deep breath, Gray takes a deep breath and shakes his head. "Doesn't matter. Doesn't matter."

He'd been in the middle of trying to distract himself, working on a project that'd already been a week overdue, when the locking mechanism sounds again above his music; the confusion mixed with curiosity is enough to have him hit pause and spin around in his chair in time for the door to open. He'd expected maybe the senior engineer, maybe even the head of engineering—that one would be so damn satisfying to stab with one of his screwdrivers, really. Instead, it was a fancy-looking woman. One of the executives?

Brows furrowing as he looks her over slowly, getting up from his seat. "The fuck do y—" It's always the eyes. It's always the eyes. There's a flash, and a lurching back of sorts, something simultaneously incredibly familiar and his and entirely alien. Gray feels like being plunged into complete, freezing darkness, exactly where those eyes belong; like a light shining into the deepest, darkest of caves, her face comes into view.

"Neve," Gray chokes out, and without realising, he stumbles towards her as their childhood kitchen appears around him, the kitchen knife carving upwards into their father's gut, inch by inch by inch, until warm liquid spills across his hand while he holds the man by the throat. The face staring back at him is one of shocked surprise while his own in an apathetic calm, sawing the knife up until it gets stuck in the ribs.

"Shouldn't have touched her," he whispers, eyes wide as he stares at his sister, grabbing her shoulders to make sure she's actually there. "Shouldn't, shouldn't have touched her."

[murdcrofcrows]

where: hell's gate closed starter for @interitioxx ( faolan )

one of the biggest benefits neve has found since taking the shamrocks position on afterglow's board of directors is the access to the technology they developed or were developing. the things the public didn't know about and if they did, it was because they'd already allowed afterglow to treat them. she understood the hesitation. when she got her new arm she thought about the implications, they could track her or perhaps put some kind of compliance stipulation on it. what she knew, however, is they could likely do those things regardless. the pros outweighed the cons and she'd yet to see any evidence of mind control, yet.

"mr. ruadh, i have something for you," she chimed, approaching him at the bar and taking the seat beside him. "firstly, i must say congratulations on another win. you're beginning to make me think i should start gambling, i feel like i'd make a fortune of your wins alone." a genuine smile formed at the idea. mostly a ludicrous notion because what would she do with all those credits or chips? she was quite content right where she was, at the moment. "i recently toured one of the hospitals in lost angeles and found that they've put stim bandages and gel into circulation, along with the stimpaks but they've yet to offer those over the counter for anyone other than the military." neve rolled her eyes and pulled both items from her bag. "they have the ability to heal cuts, gashes, any open wound really, rapidly. sometimes it can be the same day from what i heard but it will at least cut the time down by seventy-five percent." she handed them over.

"mr. o'brien has a supply upstairs but he said i could hand some over to the other members and my first thought was you, with all the—" she motioned over her face to indicate the implications of getting into that ring. "what do you think?"

[murdcrofcrows]

where: afterglow compound basement

closed starter for @insainted ( gray )

afterglow had offered to allow the board members tour the compound or any of the facilities whenever they wanted, as the essential decision makers for the corporation as a whole. neve knew she could live there if she wanted to but didn't like the idea at all. it felt like they were separated from regular society and the structure of it all nauseated her at her core. since the cultists were heavy doing cultist shit, it seemed like the perfect opportunity to take them up on their offer.

halfway through the tour, that she was finding incredibly boring she might add, things switched when she saw a glimpse of someone being escorted back into one of the buildings. dark hair, tattoos, plain clothing, tall, a scowl on his face... none of it particularly stood out to her as anything at a glance but it was a fleeting look in her direction that had her pause her steps. she knew those eyes. an incredible ache lurched from her chest to her stomach and the breath caught in her throat. gray.

of course there was no way she could find out for sure without talking to him and she couldn't do that without bringing attention to herself. she absolutely would not be doing that. instead, neve forced composure and gave the guide an apologetic smile, feigning a need for water. as they walked she asked who that was being escorted, that it looked concerning, are they keeping prisoners on site? patients? and yes, in fact, they did but no one particularly dangerous. of course she didn't believe the woman for a second and as soon as she could she asked if her badge could got her full access, which it did, minus the armory ( which neve found uniquely hilarious considering how many of her designs were likely stored in there ).

stood still while the guide was still in sight, sipping the aluminum can filled with drinking water and offering a polite smile. the minute they were out of sight, neve's expression dropped to cold and neutral while she set off into motion back to the building she saw them brought to. after a several database searches and a few more swipes of her keycard she'd found his room, or what she assumed was his as it was labeled quite cryptically. before anyone could stop her or try to redirect her elsewhere ( not that she would've let them at that point ), she finished the last rush through the maze of floors and rooms till she reached the door.

there was no time wasted to push inside and flipped around to look at the occupant, heart thumping with adrenaline. neve's lips parted but she didn't say a word, she couldn't make her voice sound. she could only hope she hadn't done all that for nothing.

[murdcrofcrows]

where: hell's gate closed starter for: @rightcous ( archie )

the owner of the establishment was grumbling as he descended from the top of the tower to walk the floor and see what all the damn fuss had been about. as a place that offered drugs on one of its floors he was surprised to hear that there were incidents of people entering the building already hallucinating. if finn was being honest, he never paid the weirdo moth people any sort of mind. he didn't underestimate crazy, by any means, but he figured they were mostly harmless and as long as they stayed away from him and his, he had no reason to pay them a lick of attention. now it seemed there was a problem.

"hey, arch, what's going on?" figuring if he didn't know what was happening, surely one of the front line men would. as security, things were more likely to get passed to him before finn. for good reason, finn had enough shit to worry about and if he didn't need to be bothered with it, it was just as well to get put in a report for him to read later. "i'm hearin' all types of bullshit about dust and moths and cults. what the fuck is going on out there?"

[murdcrofcrows]

they'd stopped by to see how beau was doing at his respected stall and if he needed help because ziggy knew better than anyone, beau wasn't one to ask for help. it was one of the very few faults the man had. plus, ziggy enjoyed wandering the rows of goods and seeing what the market had to offer. if anything it was an opportunity to find something to write about. there was a story everywhere if you looked hard enough ( or at least that's what they were trying to convince themselves of when the muse felt a bit on the dryer side ).

they hadn't been paying too close attention to what was in front of them as they walked, looking instead at a random robed figure at the stall across the lane from them. he had to wonder if that was one of the cultists making themselves so very obvious in public. before they could wonder too much, however, they were colliding with someone and immediately groaning because they really should've known better.

"shit," ziggy mumbled and looked forward to see who or what they'd run into. "no, no, no i'm sorry i think that might've been my fault. i'm fine though, i promise. are you okay?" they looked her over, trying to see if there were any marks or obvious signs of damage. he tried to think of anything he might be able to offer her as a consolation. "i know it's not too exciting but i could offer you some snap peas or, i actually don't know everything beau's been growing and harvested but most of it's green in the spring so if you want something green to feel better?" ziggy chuckled, already feeling like an idiot for opening his mouth.

location: central market

closed starter for: @murdcrofcrows (your pick!)

days off usually had cole wandering around anywhere she could get to quickly. as much as she liked spending time with her eldest brother, being trapped at home where he could keep an eye on her made her skin crawl. she appreciated that he took care of her, but sometimes being treated like a child got old, and that's when she sought out ways to keep herself both entertained and sober, which was never an easy feat for her.

central market was the best place for her to go on a whim; it provided different things to see and touch, and more often than not, cole would return home with at least three full bags. her bedroom was becoming more and more crowded with each visit, but her family never said anything, knowing that if she had to have a vice, a shopping addiction was relatively mild. and so there she was, bouncing from vendor to vendor and taking in every little thing they had to offer. cole had a smile on her face, just like always, until she smacked right into another person.

"shit, i'm sorry," she muttered, her features twisting into an expression of guilt and worry. the bump hadn't been hard at all, but that didn't mean she didn't feel bad for it. "are you okay? i didn't permanently damage you or anything, right? if i did, i'll have to report myself and be locked away for good." her own joke made her snort, fingers pushing a few loose strands of blonde hair behind her ear before she cleared her throat. "seriously though...are you okay?"

[murdcrofcrows]

there was a sigh of contentment that fell from dixie’s lips, nearly heaved from her chest but that would just be wildly unattractive and she wasn’t looking to ruin a good thing. her fingers were still intertwined in curly brown locks, gently working through knots she may have made moments before though she wouldn’t put it past them to already been there before they’d started. dark eyes stayed closed, listening to the sounds of the evening coming to life outside. she wasn’t tired, not yet, but she wasn’t keen on moving just yet. dixie wanted to stay lost in their own little world just a while longer, safe in his arms in that bubble they created.

a giggle sounded at the feeling of teeth scraping against her skin. “and what if i said i wasn’t, sug?” again, dixie had no intentions of leaving but she’d be damned if she was going to pass up a chance for a playful challenge to his question. her eyes were open now, head pressing back against his ever so slightly. she could hear that damn devil in his smile, she didn’t even need to see the smirk to know it was there. “that so?” she hummed and poked lightly at his ribs. “i suppose i do have the night off. you intend on feedin’ me if you’re holdin’ me captive?”

who : dixie duvall ( @murdcrofcrows ) where : the airstream behind the fishery when : april, late evening

the steady drone of crickets and katydids drifts in through the screen of an open window on a breeze that brings goosebumps to the bare, sweat-slick skin not obscured beneath a swath of worn cotton sheets ; a familiar sound, almost hypnotic, judah allows it to slow his heart, the way it pounds pounds pounds against his ribcage. he's all tangled up in dixie — sprawled face-down and halfway across her, one leg is hooked around hers to keep her close and a strong arm drapes across the silky smooth plane of her waist, callused fingertips tracing feather light lines along the curve of her breast, admiring. he's got his head cradled against her shoulder, his forehead pressed the crook of her neck ; peroxide blonde strands tickle his cheek as he breathes in deep the sweet, intoxicating scent of her shampoo, her sweat. her. it's goddamn delicious and judah can't help but nip at her pulse point before nuzzling his nose against the warm, sweet flesh.

❝ you're stayin' here tonight, doll? ❞ it may be posed as a question, but judah clearly does not mean it as one as practically purrs in her ear, the corners of his lips twitching upward in a devilish smirk before teeth move to graze her earlobe. ❝ i ain't done with you yet. ❞

[murdcrofcrows]

overstimulation was a very real thing in tadgh's world. it's one of the major reasons he does not live inside the city, that and he'd never be able to live that far away from his hives. he needed to be close by should anything go wrong. usually it didn't bother him at the market but there were always exceptions and that day it felt like it was extra busy.

"they're probably tryin' their best but if it's 'erbs ye lookin' fer, remedy roots has a great selection." he suggested though he knew she wasn't talking to him directly. tadgh was starting to pack up, willing to be done for the day and move on to some place more peaceful. "if ye be interested in honey or one of the many other t'ings i got over here i'm willin' to give ye a wee look at it before i pack it all away and run for the hills." a large hand motioned over his selection of honey and beeswax creations, mead, some pottery, and some woodworking items he'd added. "can't speak for meself but my bees are anything but sloppy."

who:  open

where:  the  merchant  market

the  market  was  loud  today—louder  than  usual.  voices  overlapping,  deals  being  shouted  over  the  clatter  of  crates  and  boots  on  pavement.  inés  moved  through  it  like  she  always  did,  quiet  and  steady,  a  satchel  on  her  shoulder  and  her  ledger  peeking  out  from  under  her  arm.

she  stopped  at  a  stall  selling  dried  goods,  picked  up  a  bundle  of  herbs—rosemary,  maybe,  or  something  pretending  to  be—and  rolled  it  between  her  fingers.  it  crumbled  too  easily.  stale.

“you’re  charging  full  for  this?”  she  said,  not  unkind,  just  unimpressed.

she  didn’t  wait  for  an  answer.  just  stepped  aside,  letting  someone  brush  past  her.  her  gaze  lifted,  scanning  the  crowd,  not  really  looking  for  anyone—but  not  avoiding  it  either.

“place  is  getting�� sloppy,”  she  muttered,  mostly  to  herself,  adjusting  the  strap  on  her  shoulder. 

[murdcrofcrows]

it had taken far too long to fall asleep the night before, err, morning it supposed. duck always cleaned and reorganized it's room when she was gone. and okay, maybe it wasn't technically her room but it's the only one who's stayed in it in well over a decade so just because it was never officially labeled that, she took the liberty of saying it was anyways. plus over half her things were there and felix always got overly worried when she wasn't there, for no good reason she might add. but odette figured that was why he ended up cleaning and organizing her things. there are very few things that frustrated her but the overly clean and organized space felt too, clinical. which bothered her enough that it was hard to sleep. it wasn't its aesthetic, it sent itchy buzzers in its brain that wouldn't go away until it fixed it or found a way to block it out if it couldn't.

it had been quite late when it got in, so it hadn't had the time to truly talk to duck. that was exactly why she was headed to his office after waking and getting ready. "duck must stop cleansing my room its— " but its words were cut off by looking up and not only was duck not there, it was being threatened by a tattoo covered tree. immediately, it giggled at his words and let out a tiny snort. "you're not the red queen, you cannot take heads off, silly. tall tree person reminds it of gg." but that couldn't be gg because gg was not in appalachia, he was somewhere north and he'd disappeared because odie had taken too long to come back and he was mad, given up on it. not that she blamed him.

located : afterglow compound ・ time : april, early morning ・ @murdcrofcrows

Gray had woken up that morning with a boiling in his soul. Usually this gets fixed with tinkering, the myriad of puzzles that gets tossed his way bi-weekly, but nothing in this room sparks joy; half-finished projects that have a deadline he doesn't give a single fuck about, staring at him from every angle of his room-workshop-cell, crawling under his skin like little fire bugs. He's been awake for three hours now, pacing up and down this place that has been gradually chipping away at whatever sanity he was born with, over the course of two years—though this morning feels like an accelerated effort on the room's part.

He hears the click of the lock denying him roaming privileges, and like Pavlov's gremlin, Gray's body propels itself towards the door before the locking mechanism has even finished its execution. Even this faux-freedom doesn't sate the burning in him, something Gray has come to associate with a firestorm of boredom and restlessness, a hurricane that has him almost clawing at walls. Destruction. God, how he wants to set something on fire. Before he can even register moving, Gray finds himself carried along a path well-worn by him over the past two years of his imprisonment, up, up, up this marble prison, to an office where he's the most unwelcome.

If you were to ask Gray what exactly he dislikes about Dr. Felix Estrada, he wouldn't be able to tell you. Everything. The way he smiles, the authority he carries with him, the wrongness of his words and the way he would look so, so much better without a fucking face. There's been occasions where Gray has tried to tear Dr. Estrada's throat out with his teeth, might have succeeded if it hadn't been for the camera, the guards, and his two week confinement in his room thereafter. It stopped him from letting his physically violent impulses towards Dr. Estrada get the better of him, surely. For about a week.

Standing in front of the door, Gray's eyes glide over the smooth material of it, heart pumping in his throat; not from fear, rather than excitement. Just the idea of the blaze sends shivers of gleeful relief down his spine. Or maybe, if Dr. Estrada is in his office, he could make an attempt at setting him on fire? The idea alone sends a surge through his stomach that propels him through the door... finding the office deserted. For now.

Taking a deep breath to fight against the mild disappointment, Gray immediately goes to work gathering as many pieces of paper as he can, dumping them on the fancy looking desk, before pulling out a cotton ball with ash rolled into it, packed tightly to form an almost dirty, dark stick. The next phase has him pull out a piece of metal and, setting the cotton down on the desk, Gray starts creating friction with the piece of metal and the desktop.

So engrossed in trying to get the ash to set the cotton on fire, he doesn't quite hear or notice the door open until the displacement of air snaps him out of the reverie and his head pulls up quickly, a growl escaping him as he looks over the tiny figure that intruded upon his very important work. "I'll rip your head off, fuck off," he snarls, narrowing his eyes as he lowers his centre of gravity, half-way a defensive stance, half-way an animal ready to pounce.

He hasn't even gotten to the fucking fire yet.

[murdcrofcrows]

where: somewhere in burnington outside

open event starter, choose your own adventure

mama always said that dixie didn't have a learning problem, she had a listenin' problem. that's how she'd managed to avoid all the mothman whispers and hocus pocus talk that had been going around. there's quite a bit you could convince her of, but a half man, half moth with glowing red eyes was not one of them. call it the remnants of her southern baptist upbringing, but there was still some fear of god left in her and she knew better than to go off worshipping false idols. not that she did much worshipping in the first place.

if she had been listening lately, however, maybe she would have known about the unusual amount of moths, bats, and butterflies that had been showing up in town; or the uptick in hallucinations and public freakouts in the past couple weeks. instead, she was damn near clueless when she saw people gathered around looking at something she couldn't see from behind. "hey what's goin' on? what are y'all lookin' at?"

[murdcrofcrows]

he'd only caught a glimpse of them out of the corner of dark eyes, heading further into the forest while he was on his way out. santiago wanted to get back to the city in hope that he could relax and check to make sure maisie hadn't burned half the city down because they'd gotten too restless. it was harder to tell them no now that they weren't only an adult, but had the added benefit of saying they'd been raised by military specialists. hell, they were surrounded by them now.

the cry of pain brought his attention back to the present and he continued moving toward the sound, his rifle moved to the ready. there was no telling just what he was about to encounter. when he finally found her, he stayed back enough to assess the situation. unfortunately there were plenty of people in that world that would pretend to be hurt in order to ambush someone.

this one though, this one santiago knew. she traveled with him for some time when he was on a job and then one morning she was gone ( with a good amount of his supplies, too ). he didn't care much about what she'd took, at least that was a sign that she made the choice to leave and wasn't taken. he still worried, however and he wasn't exactly happy to lose his things. the thing is, he didn't find it productive to waste his time holding grudges or being angry. at the end of the day, he's fine and would continue to be fine.

"hola, elise." he greeted, stepping closer and clicking the safety back on his rifle. "how about i help you and i'll take a nice, heartfelt apology with a side of an explanation as to what, exactly, happened?" santiago got close and took his backpack off to start grabbing supplies to treat the injury on what he's assuming is in her leg or foot area the way she's standing. "sit down and tell me what you hurt, first. we can get that sorted away and get you into the clinic if needed."

where: outskirts of the forrests

who: open

Eli had been out scavving. It has been how she survived for most of her adulthood, and now it was her escape. This place had begun to feel small, oppressive. There was an itch to escape that was completely at odds with the life she was trying to live.

She was nearly back to this strange imitation of civilization when her foot caught in a small pot hole, twisting her ankle and sending her tumbling to the ground.

Eli cried out, quickly realizing as she tried to stand that it was unlikely to hold her weight. A sound behind her sent her heart racing. Hunter seemed much more likely than friend out here.

"Hello?" She called cautiously, looking around for the source of the noice, unsure if man or beast would be worse. "Help me back and I'll split my finds with you..."

[murdcrofcrows]

In the Woods Somewhere | Instagram | Prints

[murdcrofcrows]

via @anyataylorjoy

[murdcrofcrows]

“ah sure look, me bees should be gettin’ mos’ credit for it, but i did make the mold and put the honey in it.” tadgh chuckled, a bit bashful as skylar calls him both smart and resourceful. that was about the sweetest thing he’d heard in a while and if it weren’t for his normal consumption of honey, he might’ve gotten a cavity. “sea, just bite off the tip and push up the honey in yer mouth. sorry, here, let me show ye.” tadgh held up a hand to pause them and grabbed one of the sticks for himself to demonstrate. slowly, no rush to have them leave nor to have the process misinterpreted, he bit the tip off and put the top in between his lips and squeezed the liquid into his mouth with an index finger and thumb.

tadgh hummed and licked a bit of the spillage off his index finger then sucked the stickiness from the pad of his thumb. “see,” he declared, taking his thumb from his mouth and replacing it with a bright, crooked grin. “just like squeezin’ a tube o’ toothpaste. jus’ tastier, no?” he encouraged them to give it a go. “yer skylar case, ain��t ye? i thin’ i’ve heard a t’ing or two about you.” tadgh paused to wait to hear what they thought of the honey before asking anymore questions.

though it pales in comparison to the chaos that teems through the streets of lost angeles, the bustling street market right in the crook of the devil's elbow is perhaps one of the most lively places in town. skylar thinks they prefer it this way ; the streets are alive with a sense of community, camaraderie, with stalls and tables packed full of goods and supplies and trinkets. they recognize each of the faces that they pass, can even put a name to most of them ― it's their job, after all, engaging with and ensuring not only the safety but the wellbeing of the people of burnington and beyond. such a responsibility, at least in their humble opinion, is most easily shouldered when one has boots on the ground. how can he help the people if he does not know the people?

make no mistake, though, sky is not at the street market on business. sure, they're plenty skilled at multitasking, but for the most part, they're there for pleasure. or, at very least, personal reasons. nearly all of their chime candles have been burnt down to the wick's base and as they turn the corner onto a street crowded with booths, they've got their sights set on the chandler's stall to replace them. would it have been faster to go around the southside? maybe, but skylar finds himself taking the scenic route, his gaze wandering the various vendors. they'll insist they're not looking for anything ( or anyone ) specific along the way, but they hardly appear put out when a long arm reaches out and suddenly interrupts his path.

a brow lifts as their eyes land on the proffered sweet and there's a coy smile lifting at the corners of their lips as they take it from him, turning it over curiously between their fingers. their gaze is full of curiosity and a hint of admiration as it lifts to find that of the vendor. ❝ you make them yourself? ❞ sky asks. ❝ that's smart. resourceful. ❞ they've seen him around before ― it'd be hard to forget a silhouette like that, wouldn't it? ― but only ever scarcely, and only ever at the street market. he's an enigma to sky ( with a voice smooth and rich as the honey he purveys, no less ) and that alone makes him compelling. ❝ so what do i do? just… bite it? ❞