color him INTERESTED by the various
shards tied to his waist that sparkle &
GLEAM in the sunlight, unlike any piece
of metal he’s ever witnessed – it MUST
be from elsewhere in the wasteland, that’s
his only LOGICAL conclusion. he can’t
be blamed for his desire to reach forward &
touch them, INSPECT the strange, color-
ful metal, even if he hasn’t fully realized that
even a simple TOUCH out here could mean
nothing more but DEATH, the end to his already
curt half-life. maybe he’s just that naive.
he shouldn’t be as SURPRISED as he is when,
in a flash quicker than that of the man’s metal,
a blade is pressed to his throat ( near larry &
barry ), but he IS. he struggles momentarily,
youthful eyes widened to expose their whites.
❛ i– i was just LOOKIN’!! i swear
it! your SHINE– where did you
find it?? gas town? the bullet
farm?? never seen anythin’
as CHROME as that…❜
an oil-stained, shaky finger points to the
man’s hips.
well, this was odd. of all the places on him so
many had wanted to touch, the jingling metal
around his waist, that made MUSIC as he danced,
was not one of them. in fact, most patrons made
a note to stay WELL AWAY. it could be a little
ochestra of life, or an arsanal of death.
❛ oh. is that all you wanted? ❜
the young man leaned his upper half backwards,
slightly curious, slightly awkward: and a m u s e d,
more than anything else. the knife lowered a little,
away from the mutations he noted on nearly every
poor WAR BOY. it was almost a sign of permission.
he supposed... the other wasn’t doing any harm,
after all.
❛ neither --- and both. when i was little i wasn’t
TRAPPED here. we traveled. we found all kinds
of things --- SHINY and living.
HERE. would you like one to keep? ❜