Small RP starter for Dylan because I really wanna roleplay him but have no actual plot ideas :(
@howdycowpokes @cowboy-corvidae @just-a-lone-soul
Dylan wasn't usually a early riser; to be fair, his whole schedule was wacky, no really set pace. Sometimes he went to bed at nine, sometimes he went to bed at two AM. Sometimes he woke at eight, sometimes he woke at lunch time. No set routine.
Today, he was up earlier than usual though, Five am. No particular reason really, though a few factors may tie into one.
He had a nightmare last night, not a terrible one but it just unsettled him. But he was pretty much over it now.
A restless feeling, a itch to do something, but he wasn't sure what.
A headache he'd woken with. He took some of Bucks herbs though to help, don't tell the other man.
Because he had been up so early he decided to make himself useful; he cleaned up the cabin a bit, wiped down some dust, swept, put things away accordingly. He fed the animals, he believed all of them, it was hard to keep track these days. He brushed the horses, pet the cat, give the canines treats, let the rodents out of the makeshift cage, everything.
He made sure the pot to boil water was up and started for the others and their drinks; he burned his hand a little, but at this point he was used to any feeling of such and just shook his hand out. He didn't make breakfast, he still wasn't sure how to cook and he didn't want to mess it up or get frustrated. He read a little bit, but was so restless he got up and paced a few times, deciding to settle on playing cards by himself.
So here he sat on the ground in front of the couch, sorting cards with a focused and zoned out gaze.
Mag had disappeared from the camp months ago. A failed attempt at revenge had left him hopeless, more frail. But he had finally wandered back west. He had been to the cabin before. Figured it’d be best to meet with friends.
Dylans haze was broken by the sound and he looked up with a frown. Who was at the door at this time? Maybe Otis? A delivery? But this early?
He hummed and stood up, attaching his metal leg on then walking on over to the door and opening it. He stared at mag for a solid minute, blinking, before a startled sudden yelp escaped him and he wasn't even aware that he just- lunged at mag in a crushing hug. ❝MAG!!!❞
Mag fell over from the impact, cackling as he returned a crushing hug of his own. “Dylan!!! My God, I missed you—“ His accent was more pronounced from months of speaking either with himself or his old gang.
“Glad to see you are alive. What have you gotten up to since I was gone?”
Dylan held on tightly, feeling tears come to his eye. He wasn't sure what happened to mag, where he went, but he was back, he was back. He squeezed a bit, tail wagging fiercely.
He pulled back a bit too look at hia brothers face, checking for any injuries or anything. The past months ran in his head and he wasn't sure how to even start. He flashed a nervous smile. ❝Uhhhh, I was satan for a while apparently, um, got revenge in ireland, and uh got my sould back for good?❞
Mag was mostly uninjured, a few small scratches here and there. But he was tired. He was weak. That’s what happens when one flies too far from the nest, after all. Tears came to his eyes as well, and he chuckled. “You will be the death of me, dear Dylan. Ireland?!”
He sniffled and nodded, his smile growing bigger and bigger. ❝T-to get rid of my bounty, Huron 'n I w-went to Ireland to confront my family.❞ he chuckled weakly. ❝I-it was such a mess and it... it fucked me up bad.. b-but you're alive! You're here!❞
“Oh, Dylan… I am proud of you. I’m sorry I wasn’t there.” A tear started to fall; Mag wiped it away quickly. He was smiling, though. “But you made it! And we are both alive!!”
Dylan beamed; He hummed then smiled and just... picked mag up like a sack of potatoes, heading inside the cabin. ❝I'll tell you everything, then you tell me!❞
❝Not... really?❞ he clicked his tongue, thinking. ❝I've always had a bit of upper strength, even as a kid, though i don't look it. But buck says I've been gettin' a bit stronger because of the vines probably.❞
Small RP starter for Dylan because I really wanna roleplay him but have no actual plot ideas :(
@howdycowpokes @cowboy-corvidae @just-a-lone-soul
Dylan wasn't usually a early riser; to be fair, his whole schedule was wacky, no really set pace. Sometimes he went to bed at nine, sometimes he went to bed at two AM. Sometimes he woke at eight, sometimes he woke at lunch time. No set routine.
Today, he was up earlier than usual though, Five am. No particular reason really, though a few factors may tie into one.
He had a nightmare last night, not a terrible one but it just unsettled him. But he was pretty much over it now.
A restless feeling, a itch to do something, but he wasn't sure what.
A headache he'd woken with. He took some of Bucks herbs though to help, don't tell the other man.
Because he had been up so early he decided to make himself useful; he cleaned up the cabin a bit, wiped down some dust, swept, put things away accordingly. He fed the animals, he believed all of them, it was hard to keep track these days. He brushed the horses, pet the cat, give the canines treats, let the rodents out of the makeshift cage, everything.
He made sure the pot to boil water was up and started for the others and their drinks; he burned his hand a little, but at this point he was used to any feeling of such and just shook his hand out. He didn't make breakfast, he still wasn't sure how to cook and he didn't want to mess it up or get frustrated. He read a little bit, but was so restless he got up and paced a few times, deciding to settle on playing cards by himself.
So here he sat on the ground in front of the couch, sorting cards with a focused and zoned out gaze.
Mag had disappeared from the camp months ago. A failed attempt at revenge had left him hopeless, more frail. But he had finally wandered back west. He had been to the cabin before. Figured it’d be best to meet with friends.
Dylans haze was broken by the sound and he looked up with a frown. Who was at the door at this time? Maybe Otis? A delivery? But this early?
He hummed and stood up, attaching his metal leg on then walking on over to the door and opening it. He stared at mag for a solid minute, blinking, before a startled sudden yelp escaped him and he wasn't even aware that he just- lunged at mag in a crushing hug. ❝MAG!!!❞
Mag fell over from the impact, cackling as he returned a crushing hug of his own. “Dylan!!! My God, I missed you—“ His accent was more pronounced from months of speaking either with himself or his old gang.
“Glad to see you are alive. What have you gotten up to since I was gone?”
Dylan held on tightly, feeling tears come to his eye. He wasn't sure what happened to mag, where he went, but he was back, he was back. He squeezed a bit, tail wagging fiercely.
He pulled back a bit too look at hia brothers face, checking for any injuries or anything. The past months ran in his head and he wasn't sure how to even start. He flashed a nervous smile. ❝Uhhhh, I was satan for a while apparently, um, got revenge in ireland, and uh got my sould back for good?❞
Mag was mostly uninjured, a few small scratches here and there. But he was tired. He was weak. That’s what happens when one flies too far from the nest, after all. Tears came to his eyes as well, and he chuckled. “You will be the death of me, dear Dylan. Ireland?!”
He sniffled and nodded, his smile growing bigger and bigger. ❝T-to get rid of my bounty, Huron 'n I w-went to Ireland to confront my family.❞ he chuckled weakly. ❝I-it was such a mess and it... it fucked me up bad.. b-but you're alive! You're here!❞
“Oh, Dylan… I am proud of you. I’m sorry I wasn’t there.” A tear started to fall; Mag wiped it away quickly. He was smiling, though. “But you made it! And we are both alive!!”
Dylan beamed; He hummed then smiled and just... picked mag up like a sack of potatoes, heading inside the cabin. ❝I'll tell you everything, then you tell me!❞
Small RP starter for Dylan because I really wanna roleplay him but have no actual plot ideas :(
@howdycowpokes @cowboy-corvidae @just-a-lone-soul
Dylan wasn't usually a early riser; to be fair, his whole schedule was wacky, no really set pace. Sometimes he went to bed at nine, sometimes he went to bed at two AM. Sometimes he woke at eight, sometimes he woke at lunch time. No set routine.
Today, he was up earlier than usual though, Five am. No particular reason really, though a few factors may tie into one.
He had a nightmare last night, not a terrible one but it just unsettled him. But he was pretty much over it now.
A restless feeling, a itch to do something, but he wasn't sure what.
A headache he'd woken with. He took some of Bucks herbs though to help, don't tell the other man.
Because he had been up so early he decided to make himself useful; he cleaned up the cabin a bit, wiped down some dust, swept, put things away accordingly. He fed the animals, he believed all of them, it was hard to keep track these days. He brushed the horses, pet the cat, give the canines treats, let the rodents out of the makeshift cage, everything.
He made sure the pot to boil water was up and started for the others and their drinks; he burned his hand a little, but at this point he was used to any feeling of such and just shook his hand out. He didn't make breakfast, he still wasn't sure how to cook and he didn't want to mess it up or get frustrated. He read a little bit, but was so restless he got up and paced a few times, deciding to settle on playing cards by himself.
So here he sat on the ground in front of the couch, sorting cards with a focused and zoned out gaze.
Mag had disappeared from the camp months ago. A failed attempt at revenge had left him hopeless, more frail. But he had finally wandered back west. He had been to the cabin before. Figured it’d be best to meet with friends.
Dylans haze was broken by the sound and he looked up with a frown. Who was at the door at this time? Maybe Otis? A delivery? But this early?
He hummed and stood up, attaching his metal leg on then walking on over to the door and opening it. He stared at mag for a solid minute, blinking, before a startled sudden yelp escaped him and he wasn't even aware that he just- lunged at mag in a crushing hug. ❝MAG!!!❞
Mag fell over from the impact, cackling as he returned a crushing hug of his own. “Dylan!!! My God, I missed you—“ His accent was more pronounced from months of speaking either with himself or his old gang.
“Glad to see you are alive. What have you gotten up to since I was gone?”
Dylan held on tightly, feeling tears come to his eye. He wasn't sure what happened to mag, where he went, but he was back, he was back. He squeezed a bit, tail wagging fiercely.
He pulled back a bit too look at hia brothers face, checking for any injuries or anything. The past months ran in his head and he wasn't sure how to even start. He flashed a nervous smile. ❝Uhhhh, I was satan for a while apparently, um, got revenge in ireland, and uh got my sould back for good?❞
Mag was mostly uninjured, a few small scratches here and there. But he was tired. He was weak. That’s what happens when one flies too far from the nest, after all. Tears came to his eyes as well, and he chuckled. “You will be the death of me, dear Dylan. Ireland?!”
He sniffled and nodded, his smile growing bigger and bigger. ❝T-to get rid of my bounty, Huron 'n I w-went to Ireland to confront my family.❞ he chuckled weakly. ❝I-it was such a mess and it... it fucked me up bad.. b-but you're alive! You're here!❞
“Oh, Dylan… I am proud of you. I’m sorry I wasn’t there.” A tear started to fall; Mag wiped it away quickly. He was smiling, though. “But you made it! And we are both alive!!”
Small RP starter for Dylan because I really wanna roleplay him but have no actual plot ideas :(
@howdycowpokes @cowboy-corvidae @just-a-lone-soul
Dylan wasn't usually a early riser; to be fair, his whole schedule was wacky, no really set pace. Sometimes he went to bed at nine, sometimes he went to bed at two AM. Sometimes he woke at eight, sometimes he woke at lunch time. No set routine.
Today, he was up earlier than usual though, Five am. No particular reason really, though a few factors may tie into one.
He had a nightmare last night, not a terrible one but it just unsettled him. But he was pretty much over it now.
A restless feeling, a itch to do something, but he wasn't sure what.
A headache he'd woken with. He took some of Bucks herbs though to help, don't tell the other man.
Because he had been up so early he decided to make himself useful; he cleaned up the cabin a bit, wiped down some dust, swept, put things away accordingly. He fed the animals, he believed all of them, it was hard to keep track these days. He brushed the horses, pet the cat, give the canines treats, let the rodents out of the makeshift cage, everything.
He made sure the pot to boil water was up and started for the others and their drinks; he burned his hand a little, but at this point he was used to any feeling of such and just shook his hand out. He didn't make breakfast, he still wasn't sure how to cook and he didn't want to mess it up or get frustrated. He read a little bit, but was so restless he got up and paced a few times, deciding to settle on playing cards by himself.
So here he sat on the ground in front of the couch, sorting cards with a focused and zoned out gaze.
Mag had disappeared from the camp months ago. A failed attempt at revenge had left him hopeless, more frail. But he had finally wandered back west. He had been to the cabin before. Figured it’d be best to meet with friends.
Dylans haze was broken by the sound and he looked up with a frown. Who was at the door at this time? Maybe Otis? A delivery? But this early?
He hummed and stood up, attaching his metal leg on then walking on over to the door and opening it. He stared at mag for a solid minute, blinking, before a startled sudden yelp escaped him and he wasn't even aware that he just- lunged at mag in a crushing hug. ❝MAG!!!❞
Mag fell over from the impact, cackling as he returned a crushing hug of his own. “Dylan!!! My God, I missed you—“ His accent was more pronounced from months of speaking either with himself or his old gang.
“Glad to see you are alive. What have you gotten up to since I was gone?”
Dylan held on tightly, feeling tears come to his eye. He wasn't sure what happened to mag, where he went, but he was back, he was back. He squeezed a bit, tail wagging fiercely.
He pulled back a bit too look at hia brothers face, checking for any injuries or anything. The past months ran in his head and he wasn't sure how to even start. He flashed a nervous smile. ❝Uhhhh, I was satan for a while apparently, um, got revenge in ireland, and uh got my sould back for good?❞
Mag was mostly uninjured, a few small scratches here and there. But he was tired. He was weak. That’s what happens when one flies too far from the nest, after all. Tears came to his eyes as well, and he chuckled. “You will be the death of me, dear Dylan. Ireland?!”
He sniffled and nodded, his smile growing bigger and bigger. ❝T-to get rid of my bounty, Huron 'n I w-went to Ireland to confront my family.❞ he chuckled weakly. ❝I-it was such a mess and it... it fucked me up bad.. b-but you're alive! You're here!❞
“Oh, Dylan… I am proud of you. I’m sorry I wasn’t there.” A tear started to fall; Mag wiped it away quickly. He was smiling, though. “But you made it! And we are both alive!!”
Small RP starter for Dylan because I really wanna roleplay him but have no actual plot ideas :(
@howdycowpokes @cowboy-corvidae @just-a-lone-soul
Dylan wasn't usually a early riser; to be fair, his whole schedule was wacky, no really set pace. Sometimes he went to bed at nine, sometimes he went to bed at two AM. Sometimes he woke at eight, sometimes he woke at lunch time. No set routine.
Today, he was up earlier than usual though, Five am. No particular reason really, though a few factors may tie into one.
He had a nightmare last night, not a terrible one but it just unsettled him. But he was pretty much over it now.
A restless feeling, a itch to do something, but he wasn't sure what.
A headache he'd woken with. He took some of Bucks herbs though to help, don't tell the other man.
Because he had been up so early he decided to make himself useful; he cleaned up the cabin a bit, wiped down some dust, swept, put things away accordingly. He fed the animals, he believed all of them, it was hard to keep track these days. He brushed the horses, pet the cat, give the canines treats, let the rodents out of the makeshift cage, everything.
He made sure the pot to boil water was up and started for the others and their drinks; he burned his hand a little, but at this point he was used to any feeling of such and just shook his hand out. He didn't make breakfast, he still wasn't sure how to cook and he didn't want to mess it up or get frustrated. He read a little bit, but was so restless he got up and paced a few times, deciding to settle on playing cards by himself.
So here he sat on the ground in front of the couch, sorting cards with a focused and zoned out gaze.
Mag had disappeared from the camp months ago. A failed attempt at revenge had left him hopeless, more frail. But he had finally wandered back west. He had been to the cabin before. Figured it’d be best to meet with friends.
Dylans haze was broken by the sound and he looked up with a frown. Who was at the door at this time? Maybe Otis? A delivery? But this early?
He hummed and stood up, attaching his metal leg on then walking on over to the door and opening it. He stared at mag for a solid minute, blinking, before a startled sudden yelp escaped him and he wasn't even aware that he just- lunged at mag in a crushing hug. ❝MAG!!!❞
Mag fell over from the impact, cackling as he returned a crushing hug of his own. “Dylan!!! My God, I missed you—“ His accent was more pronounced from months of speaking either with himself or his old gang.
“Glad to see you are alive. What have you gotten up to since I was gone?”
Dylan held on tightly, feeling tears come to his eye. He wasn't sure what happened to mag, where he went, but he was back, he was back. He squeezed a bit, tail wagging fiercely.
He pulled back a bit too look at hia brothers face, checking for any injuries or anything. The past months ran in his head and he wasn't sure how to even start. He flashed a nervous smile. ❝Uhhhh, I was satan for a while apparently, um, got revenge in ireland, and uh got my sould back for good?❞
Mag was mostly uninjured, a few small scratches here and there. But he was tired. He was weak. That’s what happens when one flies too far from the nest, after all. Tears came to his eyes as well, and he chuckled. “You will be the death of me, dear Dylan. Ireland?!”
He sniffled and nodded, his smile growing bigger and bigger. ❝T-to get rid of my bounty, Huron 'n I w-went to Ireland to confront my family.❞ he chuckled weakly. ❝I-it was such a mess and it... it fucked me up bad.. b-but you're alive! You're here!❞
“Oh, Dylan… I am proud of you. I’m sorry I wasn’t there.” A tear started to fall; Mag wiped it away quickly. He was smiling, though. “But you made it! And we are both alive!!”
So I actually plan to get my hair a bit tweaked, not wildly but a lil bit. And I'm wondering since Dylan is like a self insert Oc thing, if I should change his hair when mine is.
Here is the pics and kinda what I intend to get. For dylan his hair would still be same length as it is now
Small RP starter for Dylan because I really wanna roleplay him but have no actual plot ideas :(
@howdycowpokes @cowboy-corvidae @just-a-lone-soul
Dylan wasn't usually a early riser; to be fair, his whole schedule was wacky, no really set pace. Sometimes he went to bed at nine, sometimes he went to bed at two AM. Sometimes he woke at eight, sometimes he woke at lunch time. No set routine.
Today, he was up earlier than usual though, Five am. No particular reason really, though a few factors may tie into one.
He had a nightmare last night, not a terrible one but it just unsettled him. But he was pretty much over it now.
A restless feeling, a itch to do something, but he wasn't sure what.
A headache he'd woken with. He took some of Bucks herbs though to help, don't tell the other man.
Because he had been up so early he decided to make himself useful; he cleaned up the cabin a bit, wiped down some dust, swept, put things away accordingly. He fed the animals, he believed all of them, it was hard to keep track these days. He brushed the horses, pet the cat, give the canines treats, let the rodents out of the makeshift cage, everything.
He made sure the pot to boil water was up and started for the others and their drinks; he burned his hand a little, but at this point he was used to any feeling of such and just shook his hand out. He didn't make breakfast, he still wasn't sure how to cook and he didn't want to mess it up or get frustrated. He read a little bit, but was so restless he got up and paced a few times, deciding to settle on playing cards by himself.
So here he sat on the ground in front of the couch, sorting cards with a focused and zoned out gaze.
Mag had disappeared from the camp months ago. A failed attempt at revenge had left him hopeless, more frail. But he had finally wandered back west. He had been to the cabin before. Figured it’d be best to meet with friends.
Dylans haze was broken by the sound and he looked up with a frown. Who was at the door at this time? Maybe Otis? A delivery? But this early?
He hummed and stood up, attaching his metal leg on then walking on over to the door and opening it. He stared at mag for a solid minute, blinking, before a startled sudden yelp escaped him and he wasn't even aware that he just- lunged at mag in a crushing hug. ❝MAG!!!❞
Mag fell over from the impact, cackling as he returned a crushing hug of his own. “Dylan!!! My God, I missed you—“ His accent was more pronounced from months of speaking either with himself or his old gang.
“Glad to see you are alive. What have you gotten up to since I was gone?”
Dylan held on tightly, feeling tears come to his eye. He wasn't sure what happened to mag, where he went, but he was back, he was back. He squeezed a bit, tail wagging fiercely.
He pulled back a bit too look at hia brothers face, checking for any injuries or anything. The past months ran in his head and he wasn't sure how to even start. He flashed a nervous smile. ❝Uhhhh, I was satan for a while apparently, um, got revenge in ireland, and uh got my sould back for good?❞
Mag was mostly uninjured, a few small scratches here and there. But he was tired. He was weak. That’s what happens when one flies too far from the nest, after all. Tears came to his eyes as well, and he chuckled. “You will be the death of me, dear Dylan. Ireland?!”
Small RP starter for Dylan because I really wanna roleplay him but have no actual plot ideas :(
@howdycowpokes @cowboy-corvidae @just-a-lone-soul
Dylan wasn't usually a early riser; to be fair, his whole schedule was wacky, no really set pace. Sometimes he went to bed at nine, sometimes he went to bed at two AM. Sometimes he woke at eight, sometimes he woke at lunch time. No set routine.
Today, he was up earlier than usual though, Five am. No particular reason really, though a few factors may tie into one.
He had a nightmare last night, not a terrible one but it just unsettled him. But he was pretty much over it now.
A restless feeling, a itch to do something, but he wasn't sure what.
A headache he'd woken with. He took some of Bucks herbs though to help, don't tell the other man.
Because he had been up so early he decided to make himself useful; he cleaned up the cabin a bit, wiped down some dust, swept, put things away accordingly. He fed the animals, he believed all of them, it was hard to keep track these days. He brushed the horses, pet the cat, give the canines treats, let the rodents out of the makeshift cage, everything.
He made sure the pot to boil water was up and started for the others and their drinks; he burned his hand a little, but at this point he was used to any feeling of such and just shook his hand out. He didn't make breakfast, he still wasn't sure how to cook and he didn't want to mess it up or get frustrated. He read a little bit, but was so restless he got up and paced a few times, deciding to settle on playing cards by himself.
So here he sat on the ground in front of the couch, sorting cards with a focused and zoned out gaze.
Mag had disappeared from the camp months ago. A failed attempt at revenge had left him hopeless, more frail. But he had finally wandered back west. He had been to the cabin before. Figured it’d be best to meet with friends.
Dylans haze was broken by the sound and he looked up with a frown. Who was at the door at this time? Maybe Otis? A delivery? But this early?
He hummed and stood up, attaching his metal leg on then walking on over to the door and opening it. He stared at mag for a solid minute, blinking, before a startled sudden yelp escaped him and he wasn't even aware that he just- lunged at mag in a crushing hug. ❝MAG!!!❞
Mag fell over from the impact, cackling as he returned a crushing hug of his own. “Dylan!!! My God, I missed you—“ His accent was more pronounced from months of speaking either with himself or his old gang.
“Glad to see you are alive. What have you gotten up to since I was gone?”
Rp starter/drabble for Buck. Angst
Transferring my horrible leg pains and spine pains to buck
@howdycowpokes @just-a-lone-soul @cowboy-corvidae
memories hit at the weirdest times, didn't they?
You could be doing the most simple thing, and suddenly BOOM. Your mind is reeling, your chest is tight, and you may be even cursing ones name.
Buck had been diligently working, focused on nailing the roof of the new house the company he worked for was building. It was almost done. Just the roof, some sides, then it was done. Easy work.
But for some reason, his mind was... else where...
...
I just wish he'd die already. Buck glared from across the way as he was leaning against the doorway, arms crossed over the fancy vest he wore. The one that practically suffocated him. Suffocated who he was. He couldn't wait to get out of here. This stupid city. This stupid place.
He watched as Angelo cast sneering looks his way with his shit brat friends, all giggling. Bucks temper flared but he held his tongue. Stupid Angelo. Stupid fuck. He hoped he died. Just like....
The teen kept watching with narrowed brown eyes as Angelo and his friends rushed to the biggest tree in the yard, saying something. Something about a dare? Oh please climb the tree, please fall and break something, buck throught with a cruel chuckle.
What he hadn't expected, was Angelo to actually start climbing the tree. The kid was usually to high and mighty and smart to do such a thing; bucks smile faded to a confused frown, curious. What was this brat doing?
...
Angelo got to the top and started laughing, speaking in Italian as he spat insults and slurs. Suddenly as he brought a foot up to catch on a bark piece, the bark fell down.. and him with it.
Buck gasped and wasn't even aware that his legs ran full speed ahead, kidding under where Angelo fell, amra outstretched. The two collided with a yelp, and a CRACK. pain shot up bucks leg and hip as they both fell to the ground in a heep.
The kids around gasped and Buck shoved his little brother off him, snarling, ❝SEI COMPLETAMENTE PAZZO? MENTALMENTE INCAPACE? YOU COULD HAVE GOTTEN KILLED!❞ (ARE YOU COMPLETELY CRAZY? MENTALLY INCAPACITATED?)
Angelo for once flinched and scrambled back, eyes wide, hands immediately checking himself over to make sure he wasn't hurt. He stared at Buck with wide eyes then looked at his leg, eyes widening. He wasted no time getting up and just... running away with the others. Ungrateful slug.
Buck spat a insult toward the kid, hissing in pain. The hell? He looked down at his leg, seeing it a complete 180... fuck...
...
❝H-hey, mister longhorn!❞ a voice brought him back to the present and he looked over, seeing the newer member, lare, putting down a board. ❝You ok up there?❞
❝Course. Jus' thinkin'.❞ Buck huffed, straightening his back with a pop and a groan. How long had passed? Hm. He hummed as he went to the ladder, climbing down it. ❝You ok? Your side done?❞
The boy nodded. ❝Yes, sir. I was going to go help those kids over there.❞ he pointed to the hillside, where a group of kids, more so teens, were trying to get something out of a tree.
Buck tipped his hat up, frowning. ❝What for? What they after?❞
❝A kid got his toy stuck up, so I thought I'd help. I-i always was good at climbing trees.❞ he smiled nervously, looking down.
Buck immediately shook his head, a firm, ❝Hell no.❞ leaving him as thst memory was still to fresh in his mind. Seeing the others forlorn look, he softened. ❝I have no doubt yer good, boy. Just can't take that risk. I'll go get it.❞
❝You good at climbing trees?❞
❝Guess we'll find out, huh?❞ he flashed a forced smile before walking over to the kids, a girl seeming to be the 'lead', instructing the boys movements. Buck smirked a little but hummed, ❝Need help?❞
The little girl looked at him and seemed to scrutinize him before giving a simple nod. ❝My younger brothers stuffie is stuck up there.❞ she pointed upwards, to a small chicken stuffie between branches.
An easy grab.
Buck nodded back, walking closer to the tree, looking for a few points to grab onto. He found them easily, the bark sticking out at places. His hands grasped it, hauling himself up. He ignored how far he became from the ground as he made his way up, up, up. Jeezus christ....
He dared not look down as he grabbed the toy and simply threw it to where he assumed the girl was. Don't look down, don't look down.
He wasn’t scared of heights, let that be known. Hell, he worked a construction job, he wasn constantly up. He was just... more so nervous of the memory hitting him from Angelo being in the tree and the-
SNAP
Buck wasn't sure what happened, for it happened to fast, but he was on the ground, on his legs. The snap hadn't been a branch either. He stood frozen as the kids thanked up, apparently bot hearing the crunch as they rushed off. He couldn't even mutter a your welcome, instead just... fell onto his back.
Small RP starter for Dylan because I really wanna roleplay him but have no actual plot ideas :(
@howdycowpokes @cowboy-corvidae @just-a-lone-soul
Dylan wasn't usually a early riser; to be fair, his whole schedule was wacky, no really set pace. Sometimes he went to bed at nine, sometimes he went to bed at two AM. Sometimes he woke at eight, sometimes he woke at lunch time. No set routine.
Today, he was up earlier than usual though, Five am. No particular reason really, though a few factors may tie into one.
He had a nightmare last night, not a terrible one but it just unsettled him. But he was pretty much over it now.
A restless feeling, a itch to do something, but he wasn't sure what.
A headache he'd woken with. He took some of Bucks herbs though to help, don't tell the other man.
Because he had been up so early he decided to make himself useful; he cleaned up the cabin a bit, wiped down some dust, swept, put things away accordingly. He fed the animals, he believed all of them, it was hard to keep track these days. He brushed the horses, pet the cat, give the canines treats, let the rodents out of the makeshift cage, everything.
He made sure the pot to boil water was up and started for the others and their drinks; he burned his hand a little, but at this point he was used to any feeling of such and just shook his hand out. He didn't make breakfast, he still wasn't sure how to cook and he didn't want to mess it up or get frustrated. He read a little bit, but was so restless he got up and paced a few times, deciding to settle on playing cards by himself.
So here he sat on the ground in front of the couch, sorting cards with a focused and zoned out gaze.
Mag had disappeared from the camp months ago. A failed attempt at revenge had left him hopeless, more frail. But he had finally wandered back west. He had been to the cabin before. Figured it’d be best to meet with friends.
