Sulfur

Rp blog, He/Him, Comm-based, 18+ "They laugh at me because I'm different, I laugh at them because they're all the same."

[mender-emilia]

My muse has been cursed with an honesty spell!

Send 🔑+ any question your muse wishes to ask my muse. They will have to answer truthfully.

[sagamemes]

fifty ways to kiss someone.   send me a 💏 and i will randomise a number in order for my muse to kiss yours…

…good morning.

…goodnight.

…goodbye.

…where it hurts.

…where it doesn’t hurt.

…on a falling tear.

…to shut them up.

…in secrecy.

…in public.

…desperately.

…in joy.

…in grief.

…discreetly.

…casually.

…passionately.

…lazily.

…to distract.

…as encouragement.

…for luck.

…on a scar.

…on a place of insecurity.

…in a rush of adrenaline.

…in relief.

…in danger.

…as a ‘yes’.

…as an apology.

…as a suggestion.

…as a lie.

…as a promise.

…as comfort.

…after a small rejection.

…to wake yours up.

…forcefully.

…to pretend.

…to gain something.

…to give up control.

…without a motive.

…because yours is running out of time.

…because mine is.

…because the world is ending.

…because the world is saved.

…out of pride.

…out of greed.

…out of lust.

…out of anger.

…out of envy or jealousy.

…out of spite.

…out of habit.

…out of necessity.

…out of love.

[boone99-blog1]

Winds of change

[zacharyx99-blog]

boone99:

(…) On impulse he opens his mouth to speak, a croaked whimper leaving his throat. The pain is horrendous enough to send tears down his cheeks, face throbbing all around his jawline. Some final bone holding it in place had given way with a sickening crack, weakened by the bombardment of sand that’d torn skin. For a few moments his body twitches, stars appearing before his good eye then he’s out again which is probably for the better.

zachary has just straightened and decided he would be getting himself something to drink, to eat and maybe catch a few elusive hours of rest when the man shifts again, causing a sudden loud pop to sound up in the cave and the painstaking hours of work to become undone by the mere need of this stupid, stupid male to try and speak words.

“oh for fuck’s sake!” rolling his eyes at the man’s idiocy, zachary walks back over to his side instantly, practiced hands already reaching for what he needs as he moves to crouch down once more. his ankles are tired, his knees are creaking and his back aches like a fucker, but of course the rest he was so yearning for eludes him once again now that he has to first properly fix this jaw. “don’t they ever fucking learn?” he questions nobody in particular as he works, voice gruff with his anger and displease.

what follows is another full hour of detailed work, where he praises himself for having rather delicate fingers several times over, because he wouldn’t have been able to do anything for the man otherwise. it’s not long before his hands are covered in blood once more, but he still continues working almost tirelessly, picking out the tiny shards of bone that have broken off and removing them from the wound. he rummages through his cart several times over, using everything he has to his disposal to help him set the jawbone back in place.

in the end, when at least the bone structure is properly set again, he gets to work on the muscles and skin surrounding it, trying to piece it all back together as it should be, using his needle and thread to make it work somehow. and with every new little inconvenience he faces, he wishes he could be back in the hospital, doing proper surgery with proper machinery, rather than this makeshift idiocy. if the guy doesn’t give out due to loss of blood, perhaps the very plausible gangrene might do the trick.

a displeased grunt leaves zachary’s mouth, professional pride sparking at the thought, refusing to let anyone whom he’s worked on for this long become a lost cause. so it is with renewed energy that he eventually lets his gaze skim over the man’s body, eyes narrowing as he looks at the expanse of wounds riddling the man’s body. he makes quick work of yet another poultice then, more potent than the previous, which he spreads out on the man’s jaw with little hesitation. before long he’s wrapping fabric around the face, leaving only a slight hole near the mouth to drink through, as well as the nose. everything else, from chin up to the eyes, gets swaddled in clean linnen, until eventually the man looks more like a mummy than a person anymore.

“now keep your fucking mouth shut and don’t even think about talking,” he grunts, even though he hasn’t taken the time to check if the man is even awake. pushing himself up again, he hears and feels several of his joints popping, his back burning with relief now, a headache pounding against the inside of his skull. walking over to the pool, he kneels down next to it to wash his hands, then allows himself a moment to drink.

by the time he sinks down against the side wall of the cave, eyes drooping closed automatically, he is beyond exhausted, and can only hope that the dog will give warning if something approaches, because he’s too tired to stilll stay awake and keep watch.

[boone99-blog1]

Luckily enough for Zach the pain itself had proven to be more than enough to knock the merchant out, it’d been far more than he could bear. Yiska had jumped up with his tail hanging low, staying back once he spotted how quickly the stranger began moving to work despite the unhappy sounding words. The wild dog of course can’t understand them but he understands tone and body language enough to know something went wrong. The smell of fresh blood leads to a whine from the dog who begins pacing around out of the way, tail firmly tucked between his legs.

Once the human finally moves away to sit, Yiska pads over to gingerly nuzzle Boone’s good hand with his muzzle, licking it gently then sniffing around the bandages on his face. He doesn’t like not being able to see the face of his human bit knows better than to try and tear them off, they smell like what’s on Boone’s side and arm, a scent he connects with the metal of blood. Whatever the new cloth is, it’s meant to left on and Yiska obeys this. There’s no tail thumping now. That kind of bellow had never come from Boone before, it managed to bring fear into the wild dog to the point of hackles rising. Eventually Yiska goes back to keeping guard, he’d take on anything the desert could bring at them if it meant protecting Boone.

////

Throughout the night there’s little noise save for the occasional shuffling of paws or a snore, Boone coming to at random intervals only to fall back into unconsciousness minutes later. With no anesthesia nor pain medication he feels everything and it’s not just his body that can’t cope, it’s his mind. The fact that every time his eyes open the left shows nothing while hurting him, the good one only able to make out some sort of fabric. The terror grips his chest each time until something smiles on him and knocks him back out, no dreams form though to keep him company.

One of the times he wakes he does feel a familiar fuzziness against his hand though, managing to wiggle his fingers through the fur of his friend before fading out again. Another time he wakes to realize...Yiska had slobbered on his hand and there’s nothing to wipe it on, he’s too weak so he’s left to just deal with it.

[boone99-blog1]

Winds of change

[zacharyx99-blog]

boone99:

(…) Now in the cave he can’t speak, he’d tried to but the pain in his jaw was white hot like a branding iron right off the coals. At one point he reaches his unharmed arm out and Yiska immediately pads over to nuzzle the still gloves hand, staying down to avoid harming the merchant yet showing affection regardless. The soft thudding if his tail signals the positive sign in a way muted voices can’t. Boone just isn’t able to thank this stranger and it hurts him, hopefully he’ll get that chance no matter what becomes of him. Yiska doesn’t move from his friend’s side for a long while, only doing so whenever the stranger takes a break, then sitting at his feet and tilting his head up while giving gentle little yips and tail thumps. He can’t speak but there’s body language in his side. He tops it off by nuzzling the man on the leg then going back to his spot out if the way.

once he reaches the cave, zachary needs to take a minute to rub his painful arms. he was not made for pulling heavy carts with people on top halfway through this godforsaken desert. in fact, he wasn’t made for any of this. not that it matters now that he’s here because there’s no way off this godforsaken planet, and it’ll be a cold day in hell before he decides to give in. so here he is, picking up a few of his waterbottles and heading over to the pool to fill them so he can use the water to clean out the wounds. not the most hygienic and sterile of places to perform his trade, but he’s long gotten used to working in subpar conditions. it doesn’t get much better than this out here, after all.

he returns to the unconscious male’s side, only to find the dog thumping its tail happily, a clear sign that there’s some sign of life in the man. he sighs lightly, then leans over the shape of the man to peer into his one good eye. “do yourself a favour and pass right back out,” he says with little to no empathy in his voice, but the words aren’t necessarily spoken in dislike. “this is going to be the most unpleasant thing if you’re awake for all of it.” because there’s no anesthesia in the desert, at least not that he’s discovered as of yet, and between the scratches and burn wounds, this man still has a long road to recovery ahead of himself.

anesthesia or not, there is no hesitation in zachary as he crouches next to the cart, deciding that the man’s position upon it is better for his work than trying to move him to the floor of the cave. at least like this the man will remain easily moveable and zach won’t have to bother with trying to lift him every single damn time there’s a threat nearing them. the dog will probably defend its owner, but he doesn’t think the thing is a match for some of the creatures that roam the valley of sands.

first off, he calmly starts to pull the remnants of the man’s clothes off of him. using his knife to cut them open where necessary, he removes every single piece of clothing, so he can properly take in the damage. when he reaches the man’s head, he realises the breathing mask is as good as done for. he removes the man’s mask with quiet precision and takes in the wounds to the male’s with a practiced eye before turning away.

from there on it’s almost habitual the way he starts cleaning out the actual wounds, cooling the burn wounds with the water as well, while also removing the pieces of fabric that still cling to the man’s skin. even though the cooling water must feel nice, he knows the rest of the process is much less than so, but he doesn’t give the man with him another glance, knowing he’s too weak to truly push zachary away anyway. and the dog at his side is just being annoyingly in the way (not really, but zach doesn’t particularly fancy the thing) without seeming very threatening. at least it has enough common sense to know zachary is helping its owner.

he keeps working almost tirelessly, minutes dragging out into hours as he cleans every little bit of dirt from the wounds. he needs to go fetch new water a few times over, but does so without complaint. his job is not the thing he doesn’t like, after all, but merely the people. and this person quite luckily won’t have very much to say. which means he can continue undisturbed and he makes adequate use of said fact, working tirelessly throughout the entire afternoon.

by the time he’s finally wrapping pieces of fabric around the burned and wounded areas to keep the poultices he spread on it from falling away, it’s starting to get dark. “better hope not too many of these nightcrawlers feel like having some spiced human,” he decides to joke as he straightens up from the man’s side. he moves over to the side to get a thin blanket and calmly heads back so he can cover his patient with it, leaving only the head exposed. only then does he grab a bottle of water and uses it to carefully clean the man’s face, rinsing the sand from his eyes and face, after which he calmly removes the mask again so he can give the male something to drink.

[boone99-blog1]

After the initial move is over and things settle Yiska had taken to staying off in a corner near the cave entrance to act as a sort of guard, only moving to run off and take care of ‘business’ then return. The dog knows instinctively to leave tracks such as that very far away from the current home. Otherwise he’ll get drink or food on his own in the desert, partially to keep out of the way.

Boone makes out the words and as if on command he just can’t keep awake for long, the pain from the wounds themselves excruciating enough to sap his strength, or rather what remains of it. Every little while he comes to but typically all he can do is glance the man’s way or look at the ceiling, there’s no way in hell he’d dare try to move and risk making the pain worse. The occasional words from what he eventually assumes to be some sort of medic soothes his nerves, preventing things from staying eerily silent save for water splashing or his own grunts as wounds are tended to.

Boone manages a very soft weak sort of chuckle at the joke, that’d be just the luck wouldn’t it? Some questions rise in his mind yet due to the damage of his jaw he can’t ask, even the previous laughter had made the ruined joint pop. It’d felt as if he’d been punched in the face, not fun. He’s aware that there’s no clothing on his frame at this point, a thin blanket giving a slight bit of dignity not that Boone truly cares. He does have to wonder just how much the man had seen, if he’d noticed. Probably not. Injury is more important after all, that’d be preferred at least.

On impulse he opens his mouth to speak, a croaked whimper leaving his throat. The pain is horrendous enough to send tears down his cheeks, face throbbing all around his jawline. Some final bone holding it in place had given way with a sickening crack, weakened by the bombardment of sand that’d torn skin. For a few moments his body twitches, stars appearing before his good eye then he’s out again which is probably for the better.

[boone99-blog1]

Winds of change

[zacharyx99-blog]

boone99:

(…) The dog carries on while bouncing around the area trying to alert someone, anyone. Periodically he does so while stopping in little breaks to curl around Boone, his human, protectively.

storms in the desert are one of the worst things to pass by. admittedly local wildlife is not very friendly nor accommodating, as zachary has learned the hard way upon his arrival, but the people of horizon have learned to defend themselves against those creatures. there’s always a lot more chance of finding someone in need of his help whenever a storm has passed. not that he goes out in search for people who need his help out of the good of his heart, of course. he’s just looking for good investments that will garner him a solid income.

with his plans of finding the floating city and making a place for himself in there, he could do with a little bit more riches in order to be able to properly establish himself, after all. and what better way to garner such riches than by patching up a few dying souls and gain their neverending gratitude as well as something owed?

so, as the most recent storm moves past, zachary comes out of his hiding spot, feet finding their bearings on the newly shaped underground. he throws his bag over his shoulder with practiced ease, pulling the makeshift cart out behind him. it’s a small invention of his own, put together from the scraps he has found loitering around the desert, and although he’s pretty certain the people who make these things for a living would never approve of his sub-par creation, he’s quite proud of it himself.

occasionally he even finds himself wondering what his father would have thought if the old man could have seen him now, but the thought is usually fleeting, not much point left in thinking about the ones that were when there is so much to be done with what is.

and today his search doesn’t last very long, because he hasn’t gotten out very far when strange, incessant barking sounds make him temporarily leave his cart and cautiously sneak closer to see what the commotion is about. it’s not hard to imagine his surprise upon seeing a wild dog sniffing and nudging at a clearly unconscious human. taking in the scene for only a moment longer, he quickly pulls the knife out of its sheath at his belt and steps into the clearing near the scraps of the vehicle with conviction as well as caution. there’s no saying what a wild dog might do if it feels like its meal is threatened, after all.

but it doesn’t take long for zachary to realise that the dog doesn’t consider the human food, what with the way excited yips come from the animal at the sight of him. and then, as he closes in further, a low, warning growl. he frowns, then looks down at himself, and realises he’s still holding the knife in his hand. taking in the dog, its size, and the possible danger it could pose for him, he frowns lightly in thought, then slowly puts the knife back in its sheath.

“alright, you stupid little creature,” he speaks in a voice as soothing and friendly as can be, despite the harsh nature of his words. raising his hands lightly, he tries to show the animal he means no harm. “i ain’t here to kill him, aight? i’m here to do the exact opposite.” he waits for the growling to subside before moving closer, and then - when the dog doesn’t seem to be intent on attacking him - quickly crouches next to the human.

it isn’t hard to figure out why he’s passed out, what with the scraps, bruises and burn wounds out for the world to see, and zachary finds himself automatically feeling for a pulse, checking the person’s breathing. it’s not even five minutes after reaching the clearing that he leaves it again with quick strides, if not an almost-jog. the dog barks after him, but he pays it no mind, quickly making his way over to his cart and just as quickly returning with all his stuff and equipment.

he once again ignores the somehow happy-sounding yips the dog makes as he returns, crouching down next to the person once again and getting to work. there isn’t much he can do out in the middle of nowhere, so he checks for broken bones first, and when he finds none, quickly moves to pick the young male up off the ground and drape him onto the cart. there’s little to be said or done other than getting back to his little cave-like rock formation in order to be able to properly treat the male there, where he has a slightly easier time getting to some clean water to work with, and so he pulls the cart with full strength, trudging through the loose sand with some difficulty.

and all he can do is hope that nothing decides that this is a great moment to attack.

[boone99-blog1]

Despite a stranger handling his human and the lack of speech that he recognizes, Yiska simply follows along like a loyal dog right to the cave, his golden gaze never shifting from Boone. It’s not the first time the merchant has had to be cared for after some sort of incident and he’d taught the wild dog well in socializing with humans, so rather than get in the way of the stranger with a rough voice he picks a spot with Boone still in sight and lays down. He stops barking completely, just looking out for his friend.

Lucky for Boone, his pulse managed to remain stable despite the harsh wind sucking the air from his lungs at times. What remained of his mask had been plenty to hold in place as a filter right up until the pain and lack of oxygen had knocked his sorry ass out cold. Somehow no limbs were lost nor mangled, though his jaw took a pretty gnarly hit. Still, he’s stable enough and one lucky bitch that someone practicing medicine found him after a sandstorm of all places. The ride to the cave managed to make him stir enough to open one eye, the other feeling as if sand was stuck in it which it probably is.

Now in the cave he can’t speak, he’d tried to but the pain in his jaw was white hot like a branding iron right off the coals. At one point he reaches his unharmed arm out and Yiska immediately pads over to nuzzle the still gloves hand, staying down to avoid harming the merchant yet showing affection regardless. The soft thudding if his tail signals the positive sign in a way muted voices can’t. Boone just isn’t able to thank this stranger and it hurts him, hopefully he’ll get that chance no matter what becomes of him. Yiska doesn’t move from his friend’s side for a long while, only doing so whenever the stranger takes a break, then sitting at his feet and tilting his head up while giving gentle little yips and tail thumps. He can’t speak but there’s body language in his side. He tops it off by nuzzling the man on the leg then going back to his spot out if the way.

[kitts99-blog]

the fastest way back home

afternoon is settling down over fyrestone, heat of the day chased from the shop only barely thanks to the air conditioning unit, a loud and rumbling thing but functional thanks to kitts’ own two hands. it’s in need of replacing soon but for now it putters on along, serving it’s purpose and keeping her from losing her temper and therefore her customers because she lacks the patience to deal with both them and the heat. now she’s merely subject to her customers’ various personalities, eccentricities, wants, needs, and of course their judgements and tellings of how to do her job.

the last item on her internal list is currently bane of her existence, a repeat customer named faust standing in front of her, money in hand for her services, satisfied with her work as usual but still finding minute detailings to nitpick about. she allows him to prattle on about how he wishes she’d tweaked this a bit more or maybe gone about that a bit differently, knowing already that just a fraction of a difference either way would debilitate his proto. it isn’t until he starts in on her choice of attire for work (cropped tank and messy overalls) and the mess on the tables spread throughout that she feels her eyebrow twitch, hand instantly raising, pointer finger extended to stop him short.

“my clothes have no bearing on my ability to work nor do my “junked up” tables,” she lifts both hands now to form air quotes around the words, tone as dry as the desert around the floating city, “if you have that much of a problem with either, the door is behind you. try not to short circuit your proto.” she finishes, holding her hand out, palm facing upwards in a silent motion for him to pay her the cash he owes her, fingers of other hand snapping to alert pallas to standby for a static shock should he try to protest.

faust recognizes the motion and gapes at her, a fish out of water with how his mouth opens and closes, before sputtering and slapping the money into her hand none-too-gently. he huffs indignantly and grabs the wrist of the young male proto standing to the side, silently observing until then, and drags him out of her shop.

“good riddance.” she hisses, tucking the money into her pocket, free hand patting her little bot on the head, cool metal more comfort to her frayed nerves than the fur of any animal. she moves over to her books to jot down the information the appointment had brought today, payment details, and her overalls thoughts on everything. she’s in the middle of noting down how the man is a moronic asshole when she hears a “hello?”, soft but still loud enough to echo throughout the quiet of her shop. she isn’t expecting anyone for another forty minutes so it must be a walk-in and that fact in and of itself makes her sigh heavily, index finger and thumb pinching the bridge of her nose.

“can i help you?” she asks, finally looking up at the person, trying and failing to look even mildly pleased by the sudden visit.

[boone99-blog1]

An early rise hadn’t proven to be as easy as it used to be, his body still sore from a semi recent incident and facial scarring prominent. It’s very clearly caused by sand-burn but it’d been well treated. Still, it’d ached until Yiska had stood in place as a sort of railing to get up then get dressed up for a day of searching then scavenging. The search wouldn’t be a new one so it would be easy enough, save for the fact that he’s yet to ever really get a trail of sorts.

Every few years Boone returns to the city he’d been born in and raised for part of his childhood until a massive sneak sandstorm separated him from his sister and the proto guiding them, he’d never seen her again since that point. Every few months in between working as a traveling merchant he’d stop and search around the city to no avail, he simply refused to give up and several good vendors occupy the area that purchase the goods he both finds as well as makes himself. Yiska sits with his custom fitted vest strapped around his lean barrel-like chest, spoon shaped ears perked to keep an eye on his companion. Once dressed in more leisurely clothing the merchant heads out with the wild dog at his heels like a good boy, Boone occasionally stopping to lean slightly against a wall as his furry friend nuzzles his hand. “I’m okay. Ah- don’t fuss, I know that look Yiska.” Yiska gives a soft whine then hops onto his hind legs, forelegs resting against Boone’s chest which elicits a laugh from the latter. “Ok ok! Alright, good boy.” Many pets are received as usual.

///

A few hours of wandering the many city streets proves fruitless for the most part which doesn’t surprise Boone, it does sadden him though. She has to be here, there’s very little in other locations Kitts could’ve gone to unless she actually did make it to the Sandstones after all…

Yiska goes to stand between his companion and a disgruntled man a few seconds too late, the two colliding just enough to make both of them pause. “Sorry, I-” “Another kid with attitude...I’m a regular and I have never been so mortified. That girl needs to-” Boone blinks, he’d been ready to apologize again until the mention of a girl came up. Sure there’s a LOT of girls in the huge city but just like anyone mentioning someone he jumps at the tiny chance it might be her. “Wait. Ok, again I’m sorry. Could you please just point me to where she is, please?” His words come out genuine and kind, the tone calming the man down enough to nod then gesture back the way he’d come. “She works that way, honestly great proto repairs. I don’t think she can help your pet though if that’s…” Boone shakes his head with a bright smile on his face then mentally smacks himself realizing there’s a proto there too. “No no, thank you though. Hey, both of you have a great day alright?” Not waiting on a response he ruffles the proto’s hair then gestures for Yiska who had gone from protectively mad to content throughout the conversation.

‘A proto repair shop?’ “Yiska, this might be the best chance yet!” The fuzzy wild dog gives an excited yip in response as if having a conversation, really though he’s feeding off the positive vibes from his friend. Either way it helps Boone calm himself a bit before heading into the shop. “Ok, stay. Rest here in the shade, just in case pets aren’t allowed.” Yiska obediently settles on his haunches after circling a few times, panting softly as Boone heads inside blindly. What he’s met with is a very agitated woman and that throws him off, his voice coming out gentle as mismatched eyes take in her form trying to notice anything familiar. “Ah...yeah. I’m sorry for barging in, I’m just looking for someone. Does…” A lump forms in his throat as he tries to finish the question, heart racing with fear. Fear? That’s a rarity for him. “Does...Lily- er...Lilith work here? If so, could you tell her Boone is looking for her?” The person before her holds a similar temperament but he won’t jump to conclusions this time, still he can’t shake the nerves growing rapidly. He’d changed so much, a blend of both masculine and feminine not to mention the scars and his eye color being different.

[boone99-blog1]

“you started something, and i have no idea what i’m supposed to do next.”

A soft hand reaches out to gingerly pat the proto’s arm in reassurance, his lips tugging up into a sweet smile. “Mhmm, I did. Don’t worry though, ok? I’ve got you.” Giving a little nod he gestures with a nod toward the table that holds an array of tools, a few select gems picked out along with the chains and sockets meant to house them.

“Consider this a sort of introduction into making your own jewelry, I even set out a few different kinds of gemstones for you to pick from.” Boone speaks in the gentle tone that one might expect of a child’s teacher, patience shown in how he stops anytime a question arises, answering Leon then continuing. He only guides though, helping his new friend learn by doing while explaining terms and what each piece is called. If he knows, he’ll explain the meanings behind some or offer a little story. 

All in all this couldn’t be much better, the chance to teach someone things, a proto no less who seems to be more interested in the world around him than some are. Boone wouldn’t give this up for the world. 

[99nu-deactivated20180712]

A Price Above Silver

[boone99-blog1]

99nu:

It had been given to him–flesh to palm, almost like he was one of them! The stranger had looked right at him into his optical scanner, like he had eyes. That had to mean something, didn’t it? He wanted it to be, wanted to believe in the strangers seemingly promising eyes. 

For most humans there is truly no need to hide their appearance when going into the Flesh Faire, the entire premise being pro human and anti proto. That would be the exact reason why Boone has to keep his face masked ever so slightly; he'd made a sort of name for himself not just here but with the Bullet Kids as well. It's far from him being a threat, moreso just an annoyance until it became clear just how much of an open-minded proto lover the person is. That's what lead to bindings and beatings, the eventual dumping of his weak form into the hands of the bullet kids who didn't want to deal with the proto lover either.  

Ever since reaching the Valkyrie then regaining strength of body as well as will he's come back in secret, seeking out loose spots to tug at, weak points that allow the occasional escape of a hurting proto. He'd been caught before and beaten mercilessly, made an example for their amusement yet like a stubborn itch he just refuses to stop. The proto are important to him, not just because of how ingrained they are into society as a whole but because there's a metaphorical spark to them all. Some seem to be gaining even more sentience than ever before, only strengthening his resolve to give them what freedom he can as he'd expect any human to receive.

Finding Nu had shocked him, he'd only ever seen the proto when visiting his sister Kitts. Boone never went into her workshop during appointments so for all he knows the poor proto has no idea who he is, he'll just have to hope the show of good will can win slight trust of pure intent. 

Once night falls he makes his way, winding around different buildings in silence until he's once again within sight of that cage and there Nu is. Without a word he crouches out of sight at the back of the cage, different types of tools 'borrowed' from Kitts' shop used to start cutting at the metal bars keeping Nu locked inside. He has to keep moving, can't risk stopping to talk or acknowledge the other lest he risk being caught and beaten again, fear gripping his heart as metal slowly dents the going slow to minimize noises.

[boone99-blog1]

Winds of change

The wastelands, such a massive expanse of danger as well as the constantly shifting sand that could scorch one’s feet if unprotected. On a good day if luck holds there are few to no incidents, possibly a small storm or upheaval of the blanket of grainy ground, yet not enough to warrant fear. That doesn’t count for the beasts of nightmares who see this place as their home, their domain that humans and proto dare trespass. 

 The day had started like most; dry and warm with the sun high above yet not quite hot enough to make someone swelter beneath protective gear. Boone had donned said gear, a face mask and goggles, shawl draped across his spindly frame and the typical booted and gloves needed to protect his skin from the unforgiving sand ocean. His partner in crime, Yiska, bears his own makeshift gear to keep visibility as well as breathing optimal and body protected as his fur isn’t thick enough to prevent heavy storms. A few satchels and a flask are slung around Boone’s body along with a knife and gun, his companion fitted with a sort of ‘doggy backpack’ that carries more water as well as extra storage space. It’s times once again to scavenge and sell, his ‘job’ as a merchant. It pays very well yet the risks are extremely high. 

 ///// 

 It’d been at least an hour since leaving the Valkyrie encampment, the occasional scrap salvaged to add to his inventory along with jewelry and trinkets he crafts himself. Time seems to pass quickly, or that may simply be an illusion playing with the young travelers mind. He’s no expert, only living among the nomads for around five or so years yet still it feels like second nature now.

A bark of attention brings Boone to look up, differently colored eyes growing wide behind the thick goggles. When did that cloud form like an ominous blanket of darkness? The wind already starts to pick up, Yiska nudging at his human to move. A quick scan around the area has Boone swearing under his breath until he spots a possible small enclave, part of some vehicle or other discarded heap that just might save their asses. “Go!” Yiska only Heads for the spot when he knows Boone is right after him, easily burying himself flat to his furry belly well hidden from the rising whipping winds. Terror floods the nomad once he can’t fit in as well, instead peeking up only to see the wall of sand moments away from crashing past them both. 

 Despite the fear that leaves him shaking, knowing the outcome won’t be good either way, his jaw sets. Head dipping down to catch his dog’s...his friend’s attention he gives Yiska a head ruffling then mutters “Stay, good boy. You be good.” Then curls himself as far into the enclosure as possible, trying to salvage his most vital areas as well as create a buffer to prevent harm to come to his dog. Since losing his sister and the family proto nobody had been so close to him, had meant as much as the huddled creature beside him. It seems only natural he shield his friend now. “I love you Yiska. Be good for me eh?!” 

He has to shout as the winds hiss then silence him, darkness falling as the storm blocks out the sunlight for what could be an hour or more. Right up until the worst reached the two Yiska had been petted, a soothing gesture for both. After that though only loud whistling and hissing can be heard, deafening and preventing any other noise from escaping its vortex. The petting had stopped long before the storm did.

As the sunlight filters back in and the temperature rises back to what it was before, Yiska climbs his way out to see his friend, his human, torn apart. The left side of his body received the worst treatment as clothing tore away, all the skin of his now exposed left arm and leg as well as his side are a raw red. Part of his mask had been ripped away though miraculously the goggles stayed in place protecting his eyes. The skin of his left cheek and neck show rawness as well, a few lacerations leaving rivulets of blood  to spill down onto his torn shirt. It’s as if half of his body had been stripped only for burns and cuts to cover his skin, the back of his exposed foot missing a chunk of flesh...possibly more than that. The flesh of two fingers seem damaged beyond repair from the second knuckle on, and he doesn’t seem to hear Yiska bark until he does so into his right ear. With blood trickling into the sand, staining it crimson, Boone manages to smile and pet Yiska softly before slumping over.

 The dog carries on while bouncing around the area trying to alert someone, anyone. Periodically he does so while stopping in little breaks to curl around Boone, his human, protectively.

@zacharyx99

[boone99-blog1]

ooc ignore, tag dump

[boone99-blog1]

“Please don’t get involved.”

A hood and mask obscure his facial features save for the differently colored irises, the tall figure crouching beside a cage far back within the dangerous grounds of the Flesh Faire. The moment his gaze had fallen on the proto trying to keep busy by moving random items around, he’d recognized him back from his sister’s shop. 

Once in a great while, several years after being abducted by the strange group then dumped off after being run ragged, Boone stops to try and stealthily seek out anyone within reach. Someone to set free regardless how risky it may be for his own health. Repeated beatings when caught haven’t deterred him. Rather than reply vocally he hands Nu a pretty silver trinket from his own stock, head bowing in a nod then standing. 

He’d be back, there’s no doubt about it. Right as soon as he has a plan…

[boone99-blog1]

“what is this nonsense?”

The sudden question has Boone peeking up, timidly, from the odd concoction mixed together in one of the big bowls on the counter. The natural brown eye dilated due to his last hit off weed making him look a tad deranged, really though he’s quite happy save for being caught trying to cook something red handed. There is one major rule in Kitts’ house; Boone doesn’t touch the kitchen, yet here he is with what can only be described as him putting various strange ingredients into a washing machine then dumping it into a mixing bowl after the wash cycle.

That hint of marijuana wafts through the air giving away the fact that he’d been smoking for a while before starting this, possibly adding some to it in the process. Regardless he knows, he knows there will be a price to pay. That the chance of having something thrown at his head or a boot to the ass is nearly at 100%. He’s aware of this yet all he can think to do in a slight laps in judgment is hold the spoon out toward her, grease covered bread crumbs (possibly literal grease, knowing Boone), and what looks to be paper. “Want a bite?” 

Without waiting on a response he shoves it into his mouth then makes a face while chewing, his brain trying to recognize what flavor comes from where. Both eyes water as he swallows it then flinches, a shiver of either disgust or a chill shooting up his body. 

[kinglabrad0rite]

[boone99-blog1]

“you’d be dead if it weren’t for me.”

It’d come at such a random point in time, the somewhat bold statement. Every few weeks Boone makes a trek back to the Valkyrie camp he’d lived at for several years, Yiska curled up on a rare patch of grass his big rounded ears swiveling toward the voice. Normally the merchant keeps to himself, especially here where he acts with a much higher level of reverence. The voice surprises him as he recognizes the owner of it instantly, how couldn’t he when she sings and chants with each ritual? A part of him feels it wrong to reply right away, gaze shifting to a spot behind her to avoid being rude.

After a few moments of thought his soft voice comes out in a near whisper, melodic with a hint of confusion. “This is true, and I thank you. Don’t mind me, just being a nomad.” It’s not simply due to her rank but also how he’d been accepted in when arriving as an orphan, a nobody with sand burns and a tiny puppy cradled in his arms. He speaks softly to most in the camp as in his eyes they were his saving grace, he would’ve died indeed. He doesn’t correct her over it being more than just her, he wouldn’t dare so instead he nods and smiles softly then returns to preparing the trinkets he’d collected this time to sell.

[boone99-blog1]

Cruel Abduction

Very few things manage to get beneath the merchant’s skin, typically very carefree and capable of shrugging things off like water off a duck’s back. Being used to a nomadic lifestyle after years with the Valkyrie he has few possessions, just what he wears on his back and essential things. Only one thing could possibly draw the androgyny out and the note hooked to the door of his sister’s shop reveals it, brows furrowing as deep worry shows painfully obvious etched into his face.

With no preparation Boone chargers off at a jog, then a sprint with the paper clutched tightly in a balled up fist. Anger and fear blooms in his chest, questions of how someone could do something, take someone so vulnerable just to get him to fight. The note had been clear, Boone was to enter the Underdome and win in a fight against another human no doubt better at fighting than himself. The asshole had abducted Yiska his beloved best four-legged friend that’d bonded with him over the past few years. Very few are held closer in Boone’s heart and apparently this mysterious person knew, holding the wild dog with rounded ears like satellite dishes hostage.

There was no question in the pacifist’s mind whether he’d actually do it or not, lungs burning from how far he’d bolted off toward the familiar yet ominous area meant for bloodied brawls and fights to the death. Sure his friend went in there, but to him it couldn’t be a worse place in the city, the place to pit protos against one another til the death. If he could he’d fight to get it changed rule-wise or outright demolished but some seem to need the chance to blow off steam, even if it means wounds and the risk of lethal injury. Boone just couldn’t wrap his head around it.

The man at the entrance blatantly looks the merchant up and down then smirks as he no doubt assumes to be looking at fresh meat, ushering the panicked individual inside. It’s all a blur as shaky hands sign a waver relieving the Underdome of any fault or responsibility, Boone then sitting in a sort of waiting area until it’s his turn. He ignores the hushed laughter and jeers, the mocking of how slim and girly he is...that doesn’t bother him because it’s just how he is. Built like a dancer not a fighter, muscular yet lean and soft looking. The sounds of shouting and feet shuffling finally fades off as a winner is announced and a mixture of cheering as well as insults fly.

“Boone? Git yer ass in there!” The door opens leading right out into the huge open arena, chest tight with fear as he steps out ending up given a boot to the ass when he lingers by the opening too long which draws laughter and jeering. All he can think of is Yiska, how he’d fight the beasts of the desert for that dog, so when a much stronger person approaches with intent on a good stress relieving fight he only trembles a little bit. There’s no mercy in those eager eyes that stare him down, his own fists raised in a firm defense.

@titus99

[sandcvstles]

movie quotes meme.

( KILL YOUR DARLINGS – )

“you wanted him/her/them gone!” ”don’t ever leave me.” “what is this nonsense?” “alert the press, tell them ____ is innocent!” “finally. an oasis in this wasteland.” “i love first times, i want my entire life to be composed of them.” “you dirty bastard.” “we’re stuck on this wheel of living and dying. an endless circle, until someone breaks it.” “you’re not anything yet.” “welcome to the edge of the world.” “she/he/they tasted like imported sophistication & domestic cigarette.” “where’s the liquor?” “and that’s what they’re selling? i’ll kill them.” “go for the throat.” “you’re hired.” “it’s complicated.” “i love complicated.” “complicated enough?” “to be reborn, you have to die first.” “it is our duty to break the law.” “it’s how we make the world a better place.” “you are extraordinary.” “destroy the old and make the new.” “what the hell is this?” “let’s get rid of him/her/them.” “first thought, best thought.” “if you’re gonna stay, don’t hog the blanket.” “shut your mouth!” “i thought you liked my mouth wide open.” “be careful, you’re not in wonderland.” “you are fortunate in your ignorance.” “you who have suffered, find where love hides.” “it’ll be us at the beginning. it’ll be a perfect day.” “it hurts, doesn’t it?” “i’m only good at beginnings.” “you started something, and i have no idea what i’m supposed to do next.” “show me the man who is sober and happy, & i’ll show you the crinkled anus of a lying asshole.” “you’d be dead if it weren’t for me.” “i think i just puked on the inside.” “i’m sorry let me make it up to you.” “say another word and i’m going to the fucking police.” “i made your life extraordinary.  “the reason i’m leaving is you.” “please don’t get involved.” “some things, once you’ve loved them, become yours forever.” “i’d be lost without you.”

[boone99-blog1]

Hey there! I’m the dad of the oddball known as Boone, Henry. I’m 29 (yes yes...I’m old but I can write still!) My timezone is gmt -7 or pacific standard time, depending on what term you prefer. I’m a pretty easy-going fella that lives with two of the muns here but I won’t name the butts unless they want to be known! It’s easiest to contact me via discord Henhens~#2111, I can also be found on tumblr messenger just know my phone is bad at alerting me orz

Also...if by chance you play Overwatch or anything hmu for my b.net code!

Below you’ll find a few key notes about the lovely Boone because sometimes mobile sucks, or it’s just annoying to read a whole bio. Peace!~

Boone is Kitts’ brother, they got seperated in a sandstorm when he was 12 years old give or take.

The Flesh Faire abducted him during the massive sandstorm, what happened there is very much open for plotting!

Around age 17 he ended up dumped off with the Bullet Kids, this is also a possible plot.

He escaped the bullet kids (is pro proto) and managed to find the Valkyrie at about 18-19 where he lived for years.

At 22 he went on a “vision quest” to find his “real name” then he left to look for Kitts but didn’t find her (they’d moved). So he went on voyages while returning repeatedly to the Valkyrie as they are nomadic.

At 26 he left the Valkyrie for good and found Kitts.

Boone is intersex (was born with a penis and scrotum as well as a partial womb and scarred tissue where a possible vaginal opening could’ve been but did not form)

Boone cannot carry children, he has extremely impotent sperm so he considers himself sterile.

Boone is Androgyn, he will happily accept any pronouns he/him, she/her, they/them and can be found wearing anything regardless of directed gender. His “real name” found on the vision quest is feminine in origin.

Yiska is the name of his wild dog, about the size of a german shepherd with huge rounded ears and a loving personality. The two are inseparable.

Yiska was found as a puppy abandoned in an incoming sandstorm, Boone adopted him and the rest is history.

Drugs and mind altering drinks found in rituals of Pagan and Native lore are common with him, he also eats just about anything...including things that aren’t food nor edible. It’s unclear how or why he can without dying. (grease stains, paper, wood, might bite metal, the list goes on…)

His left eye is a natural brown while the right is a silver/grey. This is due to an incident causing Boone to need the iris of his eye to be replaced with a biotic lens to prevent blindness. He may or may not have other biotics that aren’t revealed/noticeable.

He is gullible af ok

He is Omnisexual. Human, proto, any gender, nonbinary, anyone is open to him but he’s not one to fall in love. It’s not a lack of loving but simply it’d take a LOT to have it given due to personal beliefs and just seeing no rush.