druggie drummer

“whaddya want?” [NINAH OC RP/ASK BLOG]

[dryoutmysoul]

“m’ just here for the sake of being here, ahaa… nothin’ else…”

ooc under cut [updated!]:

sensitive topics may appear such as: substance abuse, harmful coping mechanisms, parental issues, etc.

woah, 2nd ninah rp blog?? this time it’s for my oc kayla/druggie drummer. she’s 22-23 and also used to be apart of RED4TEE before the ‘incident’, being the drummer of the band. her dad was a FEMA officer, which is why she ran away and is looking for a home.

character color list

voice claim vid

character talks in: normal text

ooc talks in: brackets ([]), double slash (//)

facts!:

age: 22-23

gender id: cis woman

pronouns: she/her

sexuality: demiromantic lesbian

height: 6'0

species: random

debut: random

location: the socialite's house (kitchen)

hates any sort of animal cage

(was) in a situationship in highschool — early cataclysm days

can be bribed with substances (ingame w/ cigarettes)

guess what she uses to cope! 🫩

quite the charmer…

her situationship is marked as ‘missing’, but she may know a thing or two on what happened…

would be a totally different person if not for her

worked at a pop culture store before the cataclysm as a side job

current appearance

rules:

keep the nsfw to a minimum. i’ll allow silly nsfw and implied, but if i’m uncomfortable with an ask or another thing i won’t respond. also i AM a minor, so no serious weird stuff.

don’t be disrespectful to mod!

shipping is fun :3 (oc x oc, oc x canon)

have fun and stay epic 🔥🔥🔥

tags!:

#🥁 bring out the new faces! - start of rp

#💊 i'm finee... - rambles/text (usually contains lore)

#🌫 back to silence... - end of rp

#🗣 mysterious fellas... - anon asks

#🍧 takeover! - ooc post

blog run by @yoshkerz !

[dryoutmysoul]

(it was eerily silent in the kitchen.)

(kayla sat on the floor, curled into herself. her hands trembled at her knees, 2 or so cigarettes stubbed beneath her heels. fuck- why wasn't it working!? just a great start to this new home. had she really used up all of it already!? or the stash she had left got lost somehow? she could feel a sheen of sweat build on her hands- which were clammy against her knees. she didn't speak. the words died out in her throat. and god- that constant throb in her head. it was small at the moment, but it seemed increasingly intense each minute. was the light always that bright? her eyes stung when she even glanced at it.)

(it had started off small. just a slight tightness in her shoulders, an uneasy feeling in her gut. nothing too unusual, right? then... her hands started trembling. and she knew something was wrong.)

@not-quite-a-hermit

[not-quite-a-hermit]

The hallway felt longer than it should have. Carpet muffled his steps, but not the echo in his chest. He kept the smile on, a reflex now. Anyone could turn the corner. Anyone could ask if he was all right.

The kitchen door swung inward with a soft push. A faint hum from the refrigerator, the sterile scent of lemon cleanser. He exhaled, but it came out uneven. He opened a cabinet, took down a glass and filled it with water. Simple actions, small rituals that implied control. He took a sip. Then he saw Kayla. Too fast. Water slipped down wrong, and he coughed, the sound sharp.

“Oh my days, I did not see you there CoUGH-”

[dryoutmysoul]

(kayla flinched, nails digging into her knees at the sound of his coughing. damnit, why did he have to come in now?! just in time to see her completely a mess. well, okay, focus,— even if it’s unimaginably hard to— maybe he has some stuff of use! it was a small chance, but better to try, right?)

h-hEy.

(fuck. voice crack. get yourself together. but she couldn’t help it. the way the fridge hummed a little too loudly, the way her nostrils stung at the smell of the cleanser.)

[not-quite-a-hermit]

“Hey missy, why aren't you with the others?”

He walked over and sat on the floor next to her.

[dryoutmysoul]

(she hesitated to speak, trying to get her voice regulated and cool.)

… ‘don’t feel like it.

(okay, okay, good! n… now just ask him! but- oh jeez, why the hell was her hair so oily? was it always like that? and she was practically overheating in her layers.)

do you h-have any, um, stuff? like… y’know.

(eugh, stop stuttering so much…)

[not-quite-a-hermit]

“Ah, I don't have...drugs. More of an alcoholic.”

He admits sheepishly.

“I may have a few cigs though around here....”

[dryoutmysoul]

n-no, the cigs aren't working-... can i just have a drink? anything.

(god, her headache was getting worse by the minute. she tried shrugging off her jacket— but even with the sweat and warmth— it felt too cold, too wispy.)

[not-quite-a-hermit]

“There's beer in the fridge, wine on the counter, and I can mix a couple cocktails if you want. Just say the word.”

He noticed her erratic behavior but decided not to comment on it. Didn't want her to feel awkward.

[dryoutmysoul]

whatever's the strongest...

(she mumbled, resting her head back against the wall.)

[not-quite-a-hermit]

He doesn't really get up.

“Now I'm not doctor or anything but won't your head hurt even more with something strong?”

[dryoutmysoul]

i-i dunno, just... just do somethin'!

(her voice grew louder, more erratic in a moment. however, she was silent after. maybe a bit embarrassed.)

[not-quite-a-hermit]

Alright, alright.

He gets up and pulls out a crystal glass from the cupboard and places it on the kitchen counter. He slowly opens the fridge, still eyeing Kayla.

[dryoutmysoul]

(kayla isn't particularly paying attention to what he puts in the drink. she mostly just sits there, tugging at her scalp exasperatedly, the heel of her platforms rubbing against the tiled floor, as if trying to catch something consistent to grasp onto.)

@not-quite-a-hermit

[not-quite-a-hermit]

He keeps his movements unhurried while making the drink, but his attention splits, brief glances toward her to gauge whether she’s present enough to engage. He doesn’t assume anything from it. That’s important. People arrive in all kinds of states especially in a apocalypse like this. The drink is simple. He keeps it that way on purpose. Ginger ale with lime.

[dryoutmysoul]

(as he works, her gaze roams around the kitchen. at the ceiling, to the floor, but most frequently to where he was making the drink. even as she watched, it was most likely she wouldn't pay attention to what he actually was preparing. just the conformation that he was actually fixing something up was good enough. her restlessness was distracting, but it was explainable.)

...

cAn you hurry up-

[dryoutmysoul]

(it was eerily silent in the kitchen.)

(kayla sat on the floor, curled into herself. her hands trembled at her knees, 2 or so cigarettes stubbed beneath her heels. fuck- why wasn't it working!? just a great start to this new home. had she really used up all of it already!? or the stash she had left got lost somehow? she could feel a sheen of sweat build on her hands- which were clammy against her knees. she didn't speak. the words died out in her throat. and god- that constant throb in her head. it was small at the moment, but it seemed increasingly intense each minute. was the light always that bright? her eyes stung when she even glanced at it.)

(it had started off small. just a slight tightness in her shoulders, an uneasy feeling in her gut. nothing too unusual, right? then... her hands started trembling. and she knew something was wrong.)

@not-quite-a-hermit

[not-quite-a-hermit]

The hallway felt longer than it should have. Carpet muffled his steps, but not the echo in his chest. He kept the smile on, a reflex now. Anyone could turn the corner. Anyone could ask if he was all right.

The kitchen door swung inward with a soft push. A faint hum from the refrigerator, the sterile scent of lemon cleanser. He exhaled, but it came out uneven. He opened a cabinet, took down a glass and filled it with water. Simple actions, small rituals that implied control. He took a sip. Then he saw Kayla. Too fast. Water slipped down wrong, and he coughed, the sound sharp.

“Oh my days, I did not see you there CoUGH-”

[dryoutmysoul]

(kayla flinched, nails digging into her knees at the sound of his coughing. damnit, why did he have to come in now?! just in time to see her completely a mess. well, okay, focus,— even if it’s unimaginably hard to— maybe he has some stuff of use! it was a small chance, but better to try, right?)

h-hEy.

(fuck. voice crack. get yourself together. but she couldn’t help it. the way the fridge hummed a little too loudly, the way her nostrils stung at the smell of the cleanser.)

[not-quite-a-hermit]

“Hey missy, why aren't you with the others?”

He walked over and sat on the floor next to her.

[dryoutmysoul]

(she hesitated to speak, trying to get her voice regulated and cool.)

… ‘don’t feel like it.

(okay, okay, good! n… now just ask him! but- oh jeez, why the hell was her hair so oily? was it always like that? and she was practically overheating in her layers.)

do you h-have any, um, stuff? like… y’know.

(eugh, stop stuttering so much…)

[not-quite-a-hermit]

“Ah, I don't have...drugs. More of an alcoholic.”

He admits sheepishly.

“I may have a few cigs though around here....”

[dryoutmysoul]

n-no, the cigs aren't working-... can i just have a drink? anything.

(god, her headache was getting worse by the minute. she tried shrugging off her jacket— but even with the sweat and warmth— it felt too cold, too wispy.)

[not-quite-a-hermit]

“There's beer in the fridge, wine on the counter, and I can mix a couple cocktails if you want. Just say the word.”

He noticed her erratic behavior but decided not to comment on it. Didn't want her to feel awkward.

[dryoutmysoul]

whatever's the strongest...

(she mumbled, resting her head back against the wall.)

[not-quite-a-hermit]

He doesn't really get up.

“Now I'm not doctor or anything but won't your head hurt even more with something strong?”

[dryoutmysoul]

i-i dunno, just... just do somethin'!

(her voice grew louder, more erratic in a moment. however, she was silent after. maybe a bit embarrassed.)

[not-quite-a-hermit]

Alright, alright.

He gets up and pulls out a crystal glass from the cupboard and places it on the kitchen counter. He slowly opens the fridge, still eyeing Kayla.

[dryoutmysoul]

(kayla isn't particularly paying attention to what he puts in the drink. she mostly just sits there, tugging at her scalp exasperatedly, the heel of her platforms rubbing against the tiled floor, as if trying to catch something consistent to grasp onto.)

@not-quite-a-hermit

[dryoutmysoul]

(it was eerily silent in the kitchen.)

(kayla sat on the floor, curled into herself. her hands trembled at her knees, 2 or so cigarettes stubbed beneath her heels. fuck- why wasn't it working!? just a great start to this new home. had she really used up all of it already!? or the stash she had left got lost somehow? she could feel a sheen of sweat build on her hands- which were clammy against her knees. she didn't speak. the words died out in her throat. and god- that constant throb in her head. it was small at the moment, but it seemed increasingly intense each minute. was the light always that bright? her eyes stung when she even glanced at it.)

(it had started off small. just a slight tightness in her shoulders, an uneasy feeling in her gut. nothing too unusual, right? then... her hands started trembling. and she knew something was wrong.)

@not-quite-a-hermit

[not-quite-a-hermit]

The hallway felt longer than it should have. Carpet muffled his steps, but not the echo in his chest. He kept the smile on, a reflex now. Anyone could turn the corner. Anyone could ask if he was all right.

The kitchen door swung inward with a soft push. A faint hum from the refrigerator, the sterile scent of lemon cleanser. He exhaled, but it came out uneven. He opened a cabinet, took down a glass and filled it with water. Simple actions, small rituals that implied control. He took a sip. Then he saw Kayla. Too fast. Water slipped down wrong, and he coughed, the sound sharp.

“Oh my days, I did not see you there CoUGH-”

[dryoutmysoul]

(kayla flinched, nails digging into her knees at the sound of his coughing. damnit, why did he have to come in now?! just in time to see her completely a mess. well, okay, focus,— even if it’s unimaginably hard to— maybe he has some stuff of use! it was a small chance, but better to try, right?)

h-hEy.

(fuck. voice crack. get yourself together. but she couldn’t help it. the way the fridge hummed a little too loudly, the way her nostrils stung at the smell of the cleanser.)

[not-quite-a-hermit]

“Hey missy, why aren't you with the others?”

He walked over and sat on the floor next to her.

[dryoutmysoul]

(she hesitated to speak, trying to get her voice regulated and cool.)

… ‘don’t feel like it.

(okay, okay, good! n… now just ask him! but- oh jeez, why the hell was her hair so oily? was it always like that? and she was practically overheating in her layers.)

do you h-have any, um, stuff? like… y’know.

(eugh, stop stuttering so much…)

[not-quite-a-hermit]

“Ah, I don't have...drugs. More of an alcoholic.”

He admits sheepishly.

“I may have a few cigs though around here....”

[dryoutmysoul]

n-no, the cigs aren't working-... can i just have a drink? anything.

(god, her headache was getting worse by the minute. she tried shrugging off her jacket— but even with the sweat and warmth— it felt too cold, too wispy.)

[not-quite-a-hermit]

“There's beer in the fridge, wine on the counter, and I can mix a couple cocktails if you want. Just say the word.”

He noticed her erratic behavior but decided not to comment on it. Didn't want her to feel awkward.

[dryoutmysoul]

whatever's the strongest...

(she mumbled, resting her head back against the wall.)

[not-quite-a-hermit]

He doesn't really get up.

“Now I'm not doctor or anything but won't your head hurt even more with something strong?”

[dryoutmysoul]

i-i dunno, just... just do somethin'!

(her voice grew louder, more erratic in a moment. however, she was silent after. maybe a bit embarrassed.)

[dryoutmysoul]

(it was eerily silent in the kitchen.)

(kayla sat on the floor, curled into herself. her hands trembled at her knees, 2 or so cigarettes stubbed beneath her heels. fuck- why wasn't it working!? just a great start to this new home. had she really used up all of it already!? or the stash she had left got lost somehow? she could feel a sheen of sweat build on her hands- which were clammy against her knees. she didn't speak. the words died out in her throat. and god- that constant throb in her head. it was small at the moment, but it seemed increasingly intense each minute. was the light always that bright? her eyes stung when she even glanced at it.)

(it had started off small. just a slight tightness in her shoulders, an uneasy feeling in her gut. nothing too unusual, right? then... her hands started trembling. and she knew something was wrong.)

@not-quite-a-hermit

[not-quite-a-hermit]

The hallway felt longer than it should have. Carpet muffled his steps, but not the echo in his chest. He kept the smile on, a reflex now. Anyone could turn the corner. Anyone could ask if he was all right.

The kitchen door swung inward with a soft push. A faint hum from the refrigerator, the sterile scent of lemon cleanser. He exhaled, but it came out uneven. He opened a cabinet, took down a glass and filled it with water. Simple actions, small rituals that implied control. He took a sip. Then he saw Kayla. Too fast. Water slipped down wrong, and he coughed, the sound sharp.

“Oh my days, I did not see you there CoUGH-”

[dryoutmysoul]

(kayla flinched, nails digging into her knees at the sound of his coughing. damnit, why did he have to come in now?! just in time to see her completely a mess. well, okay, focus,— even if it’s unimaginably hard to— maybe he has some stuff of use! it was a small chance, but better to try, right?)

h-hEy.

(fuck. voice crack. get yourself together. but she couldn’t help it. the way the fridge hummed a little too loudly, the way her nostrils stung at the smell of the cleanser.)

[not-quite-a-hermit]

“Hey missy, why aren't you with the others?”

He walked over and sat on the floor next to her.

[dryoutmysoul]

(she hesitated to speak, trying to get her voice regulated and cool.)

… ‘don’t feel like it.

(okay, okay, good! n… now just ask him! but- oh jeez, why the hell was her hair so oily? was it always like that? and she was practically overheating in her layers.)

do you h-have any, um, stuff? like… y’know.

(eugh, stop stuttering so much…)

[not-quite-a-hermit]

“Ah, I don't have...drugs. More of an alcoholic.”

He admits sheepishly.

“I may have a few cigs though around here....”

[dryoutmysoul]

n-no, the cigs aren't working-... can i just have a drink? anything.

(god, her headache was getting worse by the minute. she tried shrugging off her jacket— but even with the sweat and warmth— it felt too cold, too wispy.)

[not-quite-a-hermit]

“There's beer in the fridge, wine on the counter, and I can mix a couple cocktails if you want. Just say the word.”

He noticed her erratic behavior but decided not to comment on it. Didn't want her to feel awkward.

[dryoutmysoul]

whatever's the strongest...

(she mumbled, resting her head back against the wall.)

[dryoutmysoul]

(it was eerily silent in the kitchen.)

(kayla sat on the floor, curled into herself. her hands trembled at her knees, 2 or so cigarettes stubbed beneath her heels. fuck- why wasn't it working!? just a great start to this new home. had she really used up all of it already!? or the stash she had left got lost somehow? she could feel a sheen of sweat build on her hands- which were clammy against her knees. she didn't speak. the words died out in her throat. and god- that constant throb in her head. it was small at the moment, but it seemed increasingly intense each minute. was the light always that bright? her eyes stung when she even glanced at it.)

(it had started off small. just a slight tightness in her shoulders, an uneasy feeling in her gut. nothing too unusual, right? then... her hands started trembling. and she knew something was wrong.)

@not-quite-a-hermit

[not-quite-a-hermit]

The hallway felt longer than it should have. Carpet muffled his steps, but not the echo in his chest. He kept the smile on, a reflex now. Anyone could turn the corner. Anyone could ask if he was all right.

The kitchen door swung inward with a soft push. A faint hum from the refrigerator, the sterile scent of lemon cleanser. He exhaled, but it came out uneven. He opened a cabinet, took down a glass and filled it with water. Simple actions, small rituals that implied control. He took a sip. Then he saw Kayla. Too fast. Water slipped down wrong, and he coughed, the sound sharp.

“Oh my days, I did not see you there CoUGH-”

[dryoutmysoul]

(kayla flinched, nails digging into her knees at the sound of his coughing. damnit, why did he have to come in now?! just in time to see her completely a mess. well, okay, focus,— even if it’s unimaginably hard to— maybe he has some stuff of use! it was a small chance, but better to try, right?)

h-hEy.

(fuck. voice crack. get yourself together. but she couldn’t help it. the way the fridge hummed a little too loudly, the way her nostrils stung at the smell of the cleanser.)

[not-quite-a-hermit]

“Hey missy, why aren't you with the others?”

He walked over and sat on the floor next to her.

[dryoutmysoul]

(she hesitated to speak, trying to get her voice regulated and cool.)

… ‘don’t feel like it.

(okay, okay, good! n… now just ask him! but- oh jeez, why the hell was her hair so oily? was it always like that? and she was practically overheating in her layers.)

do you h-have any, um, stuff? like… y’know.

(eugh, stop stuttering so much…)

[not-quite-a-hermit]

“Ah, I don't have...drugs. More of an alcoholic.”

He admits sheepishly.

“I may have a few cigs though around here....”

[dryoutmysoul]

n-no, the cigs aren't working-... can i just have a drink? anything.

(god, her headache was getting worse by the minute. she tried shrugging off her jacket— but even with the sweat and warmth— it felt too cold, too wispy.)

[dryoutmysoul]

(it was eerily silent in the kitchen.)

(kayla sat on the floor, curled into herself. her hands trembled at her knees, 2 or so cigarettes stubbed beneath her heels. fuck- why wasn't it working!? just a great start to this new home. had she really used up all of it already!? or the stash she had left got lost somehow? she could feel a sheen of sweat build on her hands- which were clammy against her knees. she didn't speak. the words died out in her throat. and god- that constant throb in her head. it was small at the moment, but it seemed increasingly intense each minute. was the light always that bright? her eyes stung when she even glanced at it.)

(it had started off small. just a slight tightness in her shoulders, an uneasy feeling in her gut. nothing too unusual, right? then... her hands started trembling. and she knew something was wrong.)

@not-quite-a-hermit

[not-quite-a-hermit]

The hallway felt longer than it should have. Carpet muffled his steps, but not the echo in his chest. He kept the smile on, a reflex now. Anyone could turn the corner. Anyone could ask if he was all right.

The kitchen door swung inward with a soft push. A faint hum from the refrigerator, the sterile scent of lemon cleanser. He exhaled, but it came out uneven. He opened a cabinet, took down a glass and filled it with water. Simple actions, small rituals that implied control. He took a sip. Then he saw Kayla. Too fast. Water slipped down wrong, and he coughed, the sound sharp.

“Oh my days, I did not see you there CoUGH-”

[dryoutmysoul]

(kayla flinched, nails digging into her knees at the sound of his coughing. damnit, why did he have to come in now?! just in time to see her completely a mess. well, okay, focus,— even if it’s unimaginably hard to— maybe he has some stuff of use! it was a small chance, but better to try, right?)

h-hEy.

(fuck. voice crack. get yourself together. but she couldn’t help it. the way the fridge hummed a little too loudly, the way her nostrils stung at the smell of the cleanser.)

[not-quite-a-hermit]

“Hey missy, why aren't you with the others?”

He walked over and sat on the floor next to her.

[dryoutmysoul]

(she hesitated to speak, trying to get her voice regulated and cool.)

… ‘don’t feel like it.

(okay, okay, good! n… now just ask him! but- oh jeez, why the hell was her hair so oily? was it always like that? and she was practically overheating in her layers.)

do you h-have any, um, stuff? like… y’know.

(eugh, stop stuttering so much…)

[dryoutmysoul]

(it was eerily silent in the kitchen.)

(kayla sat on the floor, curled into herself. her hands trembled at her knees, 2 or so cigarettes stubbed beneath her heels. fuck- why wasn't it working!? just a great start to this new home. had she really used up all of it already!? or the stash she had left got lost somehow? she could feel a sheen of sweat build on her hands- which were clammy against her knees. she didn't speak. the words died out in her throat. and god- that constant throb in her head. it was small at the moment, but it seemed increasingly intense each minute. was the light always that bright? her eyes stung when she even glanced at it.)

(it had started off small. just a slight tightness in her shoulders, an uneasy feeling in her gut. nothing too unusual, right? then... her hands started trembling. and she knew something was wrong.)

@not-quite-a-hermit

[not-quite-a-hermit]

The hallway felt longer than it should have. Carpet muffled his steps, but not the echo in his chest. He kept the smile on, a reflex now. Anyone could turn the corner. Anyone could ask if he was all right.

The kitchen door swung inward with a soft push. A faint hum from the refrigerator, the sterile scent of lemon cleanser. He exhaled, but it came out uneven. He opened a cabinet, took down a glass and filled it with water. Simple actions, small rituals that implied control. He took a sip. Then he saw Kayla. Too fast. Water slipped down wrong, and he coughed, the sound sharp.

“Oh my days, I did not see you there CoUGH-”

[dryoutmysoul]

(kayla flinched, nails digging into her knees at the sound of his coughing. damnit, why did he have to come in now?! just in time to see her completely a mess. well, okay, focus,— even if it’s unimaginably hard to— maybe he has some stuff of use! it was a small chance, but better to try, right?)

h-hEy.

(fuck. voice crack. get yourself together. but she couldn’t help it. the way the fridge hummed a little too loudly, the way her nostrils stung at the smell of the cleanser.)

[dryoutmysoul]

(it was eerily silent in the kitchen.)

(kayla sat on the floor, curled into herself. her hands trembled at her knees, 2 or so cigarettes stubbed beneath her heels. fuck- why wasn't it working!? just a great start to this new home. had she really used up all of it already!? or the stash she had left got lost somehow? she could feel a sheen of sweat build on her hands- which were clammy against her knees. she didn't speak. the words died out in her throat. and god- that constant throb in her head. it was small at the moment, but it seemed increasingly intense each minute. was the light always that bright? her eyes stung when she even glanced at it.)

(it had started off small. just a slight tightness in her shoulders, an uneasy feeling in her gut. nothing too unusual, right? then... her hands started trembling. and she knew something was wrong.)

@not-quite-a-hermit

[dryoutmysoul]

[kayla's playlist!]

[neverbelievepropaganda]

OOC// The new homeowner and his lovely guests

Man aren't they fun

( @sug4rfreak , @asking-the-ex-reporter , @not-quite-a-hermit )

If there's more I'll add them

(Inspo: credits to TuxedoLover777)

[neverbelievepropaganda]

belt

[neverbelievepropaganda]

@dryoutmysoul has been added!

(next group of people will be on another artwork okay okay)

[dryoutmysoul]

// AHHH TY!!! this is so goooood i love ur art :3

[not-quite-a-hermit]

*KNOCK KNOCK*

(cough cough) heeyyy!… um, can i stay here? that abandoned house place is waaay to silent, ‘drivin me crazy, ahaah…

(a woman that seemed in her early twenties knocked on the door, leaning in close to the point where her eye just barely touched the peephole. her eyes were red and unfocused, her hands wandering over the door lazily. clearly a misguided soul.)

- @dryoutmysoul

“Why ya eyes so.. red, missy?”

He tilts his head.

[dryoutmysoul]

mnh, why do ya think? m' just havin' a 'good time', heh!... just like she said...

(she trailed off for a moment before leaning against the door, playing with her triangle necklace.)

[not-quite-a-hermit]

“Hm, well I do love a good time. However I don't want this place to reek of substance...”

[dryoutmysoul]

huh? what's that supposed t' mean?

(she poked at the peephole, chuckling quietly a few times.)

c'mooon, i'll make it worth your while! m' got tons of cigs... and plus, we need someone t' lighten up the mood, right?

[not-quite-a-hermit]

“Hmm...”

He pondered for a bit.

“As long as you don't cause trouble, missy.”

“Come in.”

You have been invited to the party! Yayyyyyy!!!!! Enjoy your stay!

...don't make him regret it though....

[dryoutmysoul]

ehheh, hell yea! thaanks.

(she walked in, humming to herself as she headed towards the kitchen-… yeah, she stunk of weed.)

[not-quite-a-hermit]

*KNOCK KNOCK*

(cough cough) heeyyy!… um, can i stay here? that abandoned house place is waaay to silent, ‘drivin me crazy, ahaah…

(a woman that seemed in her early twenties knocked on the door, leaning in close to the point where her eye just barely touched the peephole. her eyes were red and unfocused, her hands wandering over the door lazily. clearly a misguided soul.)

- @dryoutmysoul

“Why ya eyes so.. red, missy?”

He tilts his head.

[dryoutmysoul]

mnh, why do ya think? m' just havin' a 'good time', heh!... just like she said...

(she trailed off for a moment before leaning against the door, playing with her triangle necklace.)

[not-quite-a-hermit]

“Hm, well I do love a good time. However I don't want this place to reek of substance...”

[dryoutmysoul]

huh? what's that supposed t' mean?

(she poked at the peephole, chuckling quietly a few times.)

c'mooon, i'll make it worth your while! m' got tons of cigs... and plus, we need someone t' lighten up the mood, right?

[not-quite-a-hermit]

*KNOCK KNOCK*

(cough cough) heeyyy!… um, can i stay here? that abandoned house place is waaay to silent, ‘drivin me crazy, ahaah…

(a woman that seemed in her early twenties knocked on the door, leaning in close to the point where her eye just barely touched the peephole. her eyes were red and unfocused, her hands wandering over the door lazily. clearly a misguided soul.)

- @dryoutmysoul

“Why ya eyes so.. red, missy?”

He tilts his head.

[dryoutmysoul]

mnh, why do ya think? m' just havin' a 'good time', heh!... just like she said...

(she trailed off for a moment before leaning against the door, playing with her triangle necklace.)

[dryoutmysoul]

mngh... it's too f-fuckin' quiet... drivin' me crazy...

[carrying-coins]

hm... you're like... orange! haah, orange...

(artie would hear the breathy chuckles faintly. behind them stood a girl, maybe around their age, one hand shoved in the pockets of her cardigan and the other pointing at them as she gagged on her own laughter. her eyes fluttered, bloodshot and eyeliner dripping. it was almost obscene the way she stood there on the charred grass, obviously out of it and laughing at artie like they were some sort of fool.)

- @dryoutmysoul

// finally letting my girl talk <3

’Scuse me? I certainly am not orange. An’ if I were, you’d be pink, so there.

<they cross their arms defiantly, amused by the stranger’s entrance. That’s certainly one way to introduce yourself.>

Say, you seem kinda outta it. I don’t know that drugs’ll do you much good in the apocalypse. Then again, jus’ about everything’ll do you up a might fine amount of harm, yeah? ‘S a smoke gonna do in that case? Haha..

<they offer up a too-wide smile and their hand to shake.>

I’m Artie. ‘S your name?

[dryoutmysoul]

‘s that supposed to be a bad thing?

(she smirked, leaning forward, resting her hands on her knees. her head cocked to the side at the next words that came out of their mouth, her half-lidded eyes narrowing.)

mh, ‘dunno if suffering and being conscious with an amputation— cOUGHCOUGHSGDH—… will do much good for ya either.

(she snickered, going into a coughing fit in the middle of her sentence before ruffling her own hair. she straightened her back more when they held out their hand, walking forward and shaking it lazily.)

kayla. nice to… meet ya or somethin.’

[carrying-coins]

I wouldn’t say ‘a a bad thing. Pink’s a good color, y’know.

<their eyebrows pull up in mild surprise at her boldness.>

Yeah, alright asshole. ‘M not suffering, ‘m having a great time, for your information. Time of my life, really.

<they laugh, hand cold in hers. After only one or two repetitions of the handshake, they let go and shove their hand into their pocket.>

Kayla,,, I think my aunt’s dog’s name was Kayla. Pleasure’s all mine.

<a teasing smirk tugs their lips upwards.>

[dryoutmysoul]

true, true.

(she mumbled before snickering at their words.)

haah, yeah, must be great missin’ a foot. if you’re happy and you know it, stomp your feet, alright?

(once the handshake was done, her hand went to scratch at her scalp.)

you’re comparin’ me to a dog? damn, low blow. but pleasure’s mine too.

[carrying-coins]

Hey, now! Asshole. If you’re happy an’ you know it, recite the alphabet backwards, right?

<they grin, already greatly enjoying playing with her. Two raccoons, washing scraps in a dirty river. Like-minded in their humor, at least.>

Yeah, play fetch with me, will you? I can’t retrieve a ball so good anymore, y’know? Hhahaha….. Say, you got a reason for bein’ out an’ about, or are you jus’ taking a stroll? An’ d’you think I could bum a cig off you, orrr…? They won’t let me have ‘em anymore ‘cause you’re not meant t’ mix drugs I guess. Morphine an’.. anythin’ else’s a no-go for me! Haha..

[dryoutmysoul]

hmm, well i dunno if i'm really that happy, so...

(she trailed off, slouching back, shoving her hands into the pockets of her cardigan.)

heh, sorry dude but i don't particularly like actin' like a dog. well, um... yea, just takin' a stroll. and shit- they don't let ya have them anymore? holy, that's pitiful. yea, yea, have one.

(she chuckled before reaching into her pocket and pulling out two cigarettes from the box, tossing one at them and lighting hers.)

[carrying-coins]

Aww, bummer…

<they reply almost almost tauntingly, as though their mental state could possibly be much better than hers. No, they’re only an asshole playing nice. Or maybe the other way around.>

Hey, thanks! Not really. They keep ‘em outta touch, like I’m twelve or somethin’. Fucks sake, everyone acts like I’m a kid, I swear! Tsk..

<they take it, holding it between their forefinger and thumb as she lights hers. After she’s finished, they thrust their hand forward, holding out theirs in the hopes that she’ll light it too. It’d be cruel to give one, only for it to be of no use, wouldn’t it? However, their behavior hardly deserves reward, and their smile is all too smug to not come across as at least slightly condescending, even if it isn’t their intention.>

[dryoutmysoul]

(she just rolls her eyes playfully, kicking the dirt below her idly.)

well jeez, ya don't look twelve. is that rude? mh, well i sure do hope you're not twelve, considering the amputation and the fact i just gave ya a cig.

(she scanned them up and down for a moment before shrugging and lighting their cigarette. 'couldn't hurt to lend a light, right?)

@carrying-coins

[carrying-coins]

I’m not twelve. I’m- twenty-three, now..

<they smile brightly as she lights their cigarette, drawing it towards their mouth, only to blow a plume of smoke into her face.>

I-ooh, shit sorry! Hhaha.. I wasn’t playin’ attention.. maybe this’s why they won’t let me have any, huh? Ha.. er- anyway, where d’you live? Not at the school, right?

[dryoutmysoul]

woah, we're like... the same age! ahaah, cool.

(she chuckled quietly, coughing a few times as the smoke was blown in her face before blinking it off.)

it's fine... oh, i just stay at that... house place. it's pretty abandoned now, but... more room for me!

[carrying-coins]

ohh…. The hermit’s place?? ‘S pretty shit over there, I hear.. how’d you end up there, anyhow? Why don’t you stay here like.. everyone else who was there?

[dryoutmysoul]

i know, it is shit there but... more room for me, myself a... an...

(she sneezed aggressively, blinking and just slouching for a moment, eyes still glazed over. after a moment, she flapped her hand at her mouth, blinking slowly before looking back at artie.)

and i! haah...heh... plus, you wouldn't believe how much cigs that guy left....

[carrying-coins]

Yeah, I guess… <they shrug, before poking their head back into the room behind them. Difficult to make out from the way they’re positioned, but maybe some type of infirmary? Something medical, by the smell of it. The sneeze makes them jump, eyes realigning with hers quickly.>

Say, d’you think you could carry me, maybe? Ahha…. <desperate bid to get out. Have the stranger carry you, sure… that’s certainly.. a solution. They’d been inside checking to see if Ilya was coming, because they don’t want to get scolded if they try to shimmy their way out with her.> Or… y’know, push a chair? Can you push a chair? With wheels on it?

[dryoutmysoul]

carry ya? umm...

(she paused for a moment, scanning artie up and down.)

i'm not real sure if i can do that..... uh, is there any wheel...y chairs around?

[lungcancer-onitsway]

hey...

(kayla nudged him, leaning down slightly, eyes narrowing as she looked at his. her breath stunk- no doubt unpleasant. but might've paled in comparison to his.)

ya got a light? 'must've gotten mine mixed up...

(she mumbled, waving a hand in his face, the other holding a cigarette.)

- @dryoutmysoul

He swatted her hand away and groaned

"... Way to start a conversation."

He reached in his pocket as he frowned at tbe woman

"... And back up. Don't get all up in my face..."

He spat out as he carelessly tossed a lighter at her.

He was clearly pissed off by the amount of people asking for things from him. He wasn't some sort of merchant or whatever other people think he is...

[dryoutmysoul]

what? m’ just askin.

(she frowned slightly, leaning back and resting her arms behind her head.)

damn, sorry. ‘should’ve known, you seemed pretty comfy.

(she snickered to herself before snatching the lighter, sticking the cigarette in her mouth before lighting it and taking a drag.)

mm… ya mind if i keep this? ya seem like the type of guy to have like, 50 anyway.

[lungcancer-onitsway]

"... You people steal my shit all the time, I don't even care..."

He sat up and rubbed his eyes, he looked and felt like he just got dragged out of a dumpster

"... God, I wish I was in that storage room... Less people would find me..."

He sighed dramatically and leaned back on his chair to stare straight at the ceiling

[dryoutmysoul]

‘you people?’ ‘fuck’s that supposed to mean?

(her brows would furrow, confused for a moment before shrugging and just taking another drag of the cigarette.)

eh, whatever.

(she just mumbled before scanning him up and down.)

ya kinda remind me of eddie…

[lungcancer-onitsway]

"...You people as in everyone in this goddamn house. You all have the special ability to bring out the worst of me somehow."

"... Except for some..."

He sat back up straight and just stared at the floor tiredly

[dryoutmysoul]

woow, m' sorry.

(she just said, sarcasm evident. she'd just stare at the corner of the ceiling before hearing that murmur.)

ehh?... some? dude, what, you have a crush or somethin'?

(she'd ask, seemingly more of a genuine question than in a 'picking fun' way.)

[lungcancer-onitsway]

"... I don't "have crushes" I'm not in middle school."

"... You know there's something called not annoying other people on purpose. And I like those people."

He said bitterly. Even though the question did make him wonder for a bit.

[dryoutmysoul]

mh, fair. how old are you anyway, like, 40?

(she’d shrug, leaning back on her chair.)

oh, sorry. that was probably rude. oh- okay, now you’re just being rude.

(she gave him a look, one brow furrowed as she took another drag.)

[lungcancer-onitsway]

"40?! I'm not that old! I'm like- I don't know, 36? I don't care, age doesn't matter when your frontal lobe is already developed."

"..."

He was clearly offended by the assumption

[dryoutmysoul]

(she just blinked at him.)

eh, whatever. m' mean, it's... basically 40. if you... round it and stuff.

(she looked away awkwardly.)

// @lungcancer-onitsway sorruy

[lungcancer-onitsway]

"Doesn't change anything! Don't piss me off.. There's plenty other people you can press about their age, don't make that person me!"

The man yelled defensively. He seemed to be in a very irritable mood right now... Which was just his regular one if someone counts it.

"I have plenty things to insult anyone with but I won't because I can hold back!"

That truth was definitely stretched, but he was probably also aware of that.

[dryoutmysoul]

(after a moment- she flinched, turning back to him, brows furrowed.)

jeez, sorry dude! no need t' yell.

(she held her hands up in a jokingly defensive way, a smirk curled lazily on her dry lips.)

i was just sayin'. ya don't gotta get so pressed 'bout it.