Cowboy John @sheriffsinner - Tumblr Blog

A short figure, slowly dragging himself through the desert sand, trailed too much blood behind him. He held his side, where a familiar-looking dagger was embedded hilt-deep. Occasionally, he'd spit up some of his own blood.

Strangely, the sand didn't seem to get in the way, simply falling away from his bloodstained robes and wound, despite the fact it should have been caked on by then.

(@poor-sinner)

[ Cowboy John stood by a cactus, shaving off the spines on one of its arms using a blade made from bone. He whistles to himself as if this is an everyday thing which, knowing him, it probably was. ]

[ Before he actually gets to cutting the cactus’ arm off, he pauses, hearing the sound of something—or in this case, someone—moving through the sand. John turns around to see another sinner. The first thing he notices is how injured he is, and instinctively ran over to help, completely forgetting about the blade in his hand. ]

“Aye! Wh-what happened to ya?!”

[ John tucked his blade into a pouch on his belt before crouching down to pick up the sinner, careful of any injuries. ]

“Gee, ya look like ya got jumped by vultures..”

"...hhnnn." He was quivering. As he was picked up, he weakly kicked in pain, yelping as the dagger moved itself, twisting slightly into his guts with a quiet but noticeable crunching sound.

Although his skin felt clammy, and he was showing signs of blood loss, he wasn't pale at all, and blood kept slowly dripping from the wound. It was as if he somehow had an endless supply of it.

Tears were rolling down his cheeks, drying up slowly in the hot desert air. He'd probably traveled a long way to escape whoever had done this to him.

[ John winced at the dagger as it dug itself deeper into the wound. Not good. Not good at all. He was going to have to take that out before it got any deeper. ]

Damnit..

[ He inhaled and deeply exhaled, shifting his hold on the sinner so he could get a good grip on it. ]

I’m gonna need ya to hold onto me, as tight as y’can, alright?

[ John waited for him to grab on before reaching for the dagger.. ]

"nn-hnn." He held on as tight as possible, curling up slightly.

(crnnch.) The dagger was already shifting deeper again. He kicked, and as it turned sideways further - "NNNKKHH-!" - he let out a choked whine. His tears were wetting the sheriff's clothes as his blood further stained the sand underneath him.

Okay.. Just gotta make this quick and..

[ Grabbing the dagger’s handle, he carefully pulled it out, making sure he didn’t make the wound worse than it already was. ]

[ Once it was removed, John hooked the dagger onto an empty spot on his belt and pulled out a handkerchief, quickly pressing it to the wound. ]

"g-gh-nnn--" He whimpered as the handle was grabbed, twitching in pain. As it was carefully pulled out, blood spilling on the sand-

"AA-AAAA-AAA-AANHHH--!" -he screamed, kicking, his voice cracking.

Then, he made a quiet, pained, choking sound. The dagger's barbs had caught on his guts, pulling them out partially along with it.

"ghkk." His grip began to loosen as he quivered in agony. His blood colored the handkerchief a dark red the moment it was pressed on the wound.

It’s okay, yer gonna be fine.

[ John wasn’t the best at comforting others in times like these, his words came out a little rough. ]

You’ll be fine.

[ He then shifted his hold on him once more, now to make sure he was a little comfortable and was still pressing down on the handkerchief. ]

[ ..And finally, he started to walk in what seemed like a random direction, the sinner in his arms. His pace was quick. He knew where he was going. ]

He allowed himself to fall limp as he was held again. The pressure on his wound was extremely painful, but he did his best to ignore it.

"hnn... hnnn..." His breathing was strained, and his eyes were barely open, but he was alive.

He would always be alive.

Occasionally, he would spit up some blood, which would stain the sand.

As he quietly wept, the pain in his side only getting worse, he found solace in knowing he would be safe soon.

[ From there on, John didn’t talk all too much, his focus was on getting to his destination. ]

[ They passed dunes, tumbleweeds, and countless amounts of cacti. Vultures occasionally flew overhead. ]

..

[ And after what felt like ages, a bit of greenery could be seen in the distance. It wasn’t the usual dusty-green that a cactus would have, it was lush. ]

..Almost there.

"...hhnnn." He could only whimper in pain.

While he didn't look pale, he felt cold and clammy, like he had lost a lot of blood... but he was still bleeding at the same rate he had been.

His vision was too blurry and unfocused to know where he was.

Hearing the words 'almost there' made him feel ever so slightly more relieved.

[ More time ticked by, getting closer and closer to this patch of green. ]

[ The sound of water gently splashing becomes more audible with each step John takes. ]

[ He stepped through the shrubs, finally making it to his goal. An oasis. ]

We’re here. How’re ya holdin’ up?

[ He crouched down and carefully lay the sinner against a palm tree. After doing so, he checked the wound that the dagger left, making sure it didn’t worsen. ]

"How're ya holdin' up?"

"...hh... hhCCK--" The sinner promptly threw up a concerning amount of his own blood. He was not doing well.

The wound wasn't festering or infected, but it was still bleeding horribly. His guts were visible, and were almost slipping out again. He was quivering in pain, and would occasionally yelp, whimper, or kick, acting as if the dagger were still inside him. "...nnnhhh."

Tears were still streaming down his cheeks.

[ John winced upon seeing.. well.. everything, from the blood to the sinner’s insides. He was probably going to have nightmares about this later. ] {lmao}

..Definitely not good, then.

[ He covered the wound back up and pressed down as much as he could without causing more damage. ]

[ He needed a plan, and fast. His cabin was just a small walk away.. ]

{ ooc: Just gonna leave the opportunity for anything to happen.. }

The dagger suddenly unlatched itself from the sheriff's belt, flying off in the direction they'd come from.

The distant sound of chains rattling echoed through the desert.

"Sinner!~ Where are youuuu...~"

A singsong voice was approaching.

The sinner's eyes widened. She was here, and the dagger had shown her right where they were.

[ He let out a small yelp when the dagger was released. ]

Ack-! What the-

[ John froze upon hearing the chains. He was already having a bad feeling about this.. ]

[ He slowly turned towards the sound, his hand hovering over his holstered Gleam. ]

Finally, he spoke his first coherent words.

"She's here."

The smell of burning flesh filled the area as his wound... somehow closed itself, leaving a faint scar. Then, the scar faded, leaving him fully healed, as if nothing had happened. Perhaps He was giving him a running chance.

He got up, suddenly full of energy. "We have to go. Now."

[ John was absolutely stunned. First, the dagger flew off and someone’s coming, now the sinner’s wound was healed as if nothing happened. ]

[ He stared at the other for a few seconds before remembering the situation they’re in, and standing up. He tucked the handkerchief he used into his pocket, ignoring the fact that it was drenched in blood. ]

Uh- Right.

[ All of his questions would probably be answered later. For now, they had to run. ]

I know a few places ‘round here, hopefully it’ll be safe from.. whoever this “she” is. C’mon.

[ John took off without another word, cutting through the oasis’ bushes and out into the desert. ]

"I- Hey, wait up!-" he shouted, already being left in the dust. He wasn't used to the soft desert sand, and he could barely run on it.

"(huff) (puff) Slow DOWN-!"

The chains were close. She was right behind him. He tried running faster.

Looking back - she was RIGHT THERE - was all it took for him to miss the buried ruins just ahead. His boot caught on a corner of sandstone.

Then he fell.

"SHIT--" He scrambled to get up, but was grabbed by his collar and lifted into the air. "GHN- LET ME GO!" he yelped, kicking at the air.

"Fully healed, are we?~" Ire giggled. "You're always so much fun to play with."

Hm?

[ He skidded to a halt, pushing up sand as he did so, and looked back only to see the sinner being held up by Ire. ]

Ah crap!

[ John ran back a distance, but when he got close enough he slowed down to sneak behind a nearby chunk of sandstone. ]

[ The only thing he could really do now is watch.. ]

Ire unsheathed the Deggur, smiling. Then, holding the sinner down, forcing him into a kneeling position with her shackles, she slooooowly pushed the blade into his side.

"g-ghnn--..." He whimpered quietly as it was forced in, first a third of the way, then halfway. Blood was flowing from the wound already, pooling onto the ground.

Then, she shoved the Deggur hilt-deep, making him twitch, and twisted it with a sickening CRUNCH, forcing a choked shriek out of him. "aAGHHKK--..."

She tilted the Deggur upwards sharply, and he went limp, occasionally kicking or quietly yelping as she manipulated the blade to cause him further pain. The sandstone was now covered in wet spatters of blood and tears.

"hhhnn... hhhnn... hhn..."

#yeehamen #soul-to-soul #soul-to-outsoul

[ He couldn't watch for very long. Just the sound of the blade pushing deep made him sick to his stomach. ]

Eugh..

[ He turned away, back to sandstone, slowly sliding down into a sitting position, with his knees pulled up to his chest.. ]

[ ..And waited. ]

A short figure, slowly dragging himself through the desert sand, trailed too much blood behind him. He held his side, where a familiar-looking dagger was embedded hilt-deep. Occasionally, he'd spit up some of his own blood.

Strangely, the sand didn't seem to get in the way, simply falling away from his bloodstained robes and wound, despite the fact it should have been caked on by then.

(@poor-sinner)

[ Cowboy John stood by a cactus, shaving off the spines on one of its arms using a blade made from bone. He whistles to himself as if this is an everyday thing which, knowing him, it probably was. ]

[ Before he actually gets to cutting the cactus’ arm off, he pauses, hearing the sound of something—or in this case, someone—moving through the sand. John turns around to see another sinner. The first thing he notices is how injured he is, and instinctively ran over to help, completely forgetting about the blade in his hand. ]

“Aye! Wh-what happened to ya?!”

[ John tucked his blade into a pouch on his belt before crouching down to pick up the sinner, careful of any injuries. ]

“Gee, ya look like ya got jumped by vultures..”

"...hhnnn." He was quivering. As he was picked up, he weakly kicked in pain, yelping as the dagger moved itself, twisting slightly into his guts with a quiet but noticeable crunching sound.

Although his skin felt clammy, and he was showing signs of blood loss, he wasn't pale at all, and blood kept slowly dripping from the wound. It was as if he somehow had an endless supply of it.

Tears were rolling down his cheeks, drying up slowly in the hot desert air. He'd probably traveled a long way to escape whoever had done this to him.

[ John winced at the dagger as it dug itself deeper into the wound. Not good. Not good at all. He was going to have to take that out before it got any deeper. ]

Damnit..

[ He inhaled and deeply exhaled, shifting his hold on the sinner so he could get a good grip on it. ]

I’m gonna need ya to hold onto me, as tight as y’can, alright?

[ John waited for him to grab on before reaching for the dagger.. ]

"nn-hnn." He held on as tight as possible, curling up slightly.

(crnnch.) The dagger was already shifting deeper again. He kicked, and as it turned sideways further - "NNNKKHH-!" - he let out a choked whine. His tears were wetting the sheriff's clothes as his blood further stained the sand underneath him.

Okay.. Just gotta make this quick and..

[ Grabbing the dagger’s handle, he carefully pulled it out, making sure he didn’t make the wound worse than it already was. ]

[ Once it was removed, John hooked the dagger onto an empty spot on his belt and pulled out a handkerchief, quickly pressing it to the wound. ]

"g-gh-nnn--" He whimpered as the handle was grabbed, twitching in pain. As it was carefully pulled out, blood spilling on the sand-

"AA-AAAA-AAA-AANHHH--!" -he screamed, kicking, his voice cracking.

Then, he made a quiet, pained, choking sound. The dagger's barbs had caught on his guts, pulling them out partially along with it.

"ghkk." His grip began to loosen as he quivered in agony. His blood colored the handkerchief a dark red the moment it was pressed on the wound.

It’s okay, yer gonna be fine.

[ John wasn’t the best at comforting others in times like these, his words came out a little rough. ]

You’ll be fine.

[ He then shifted his hold on him once more, now to make sure he was a little comfortable and was still pressing down on the handkerchief. ]

[ ..And finally, he started to walk in what seemed like a random direction, the sinner in his arms. His pace was quick. He knew where he was going. ]

He allowed himself to fall limp as he was held again. The pressure on his wound was extremely painful, but he did his best to ignore it.

"hnn... hnnn..." His breathing was strained, and his eyes were barely open, but he was alive.

He would always be alive.

Occasionally, he would spit up some blood, which would stain the sand.

As he quietly wept, the pain in his side only getting worse, he found solace in knowing he would be safe soon.

[ From there on, John didn’t talk all too much, his focus was on getting to his destination. ]

[ They passed dunes, tumbleweeds, and countless amounts of cacti. Vultures occasionally flew overhead. ]

..

[ And after what felt like ages, a bit of greenery could be seen in the distance. It wasn’t the usual dusty-green that a cactus would have, it was lush. ]

..Almost there.

"...hhnnn." He could only whimper in pain.

While he didn't look pale, he felt cold and clammy, like he had lost a lot of blood... but he was still bleeding at the same rate he had been.

His vision was too blurry and unfocused to know where he was.

Hearing the words 'almost there' made him feel ever so slightly more relieved.

[ More time ticked by, getting closer and closer to this patch of green. ]

[ The sound of water gently splashing becomes more audible with each step John takes. ]

[ He stepped through the shrubs, finally making it to his goal. An oasis. ]

We’re here. How’re ya holdin’ up?

[ He crouched down and carefully lay the sinner against a palm tree. After doing so, he checked the wound that the dagger left, making sure it didn’t worsen. ]

"How're ya holdin' up?"

"...hh... hhCCK--" The sinner promptly threw up a concerning amount of his own blood. He was not doing well.

The wound wasn't festering or infected, but it was still bleeding horribly. His guts were visible, and were almost slipping out again. He was quivering in pain, and would occasionally yelp, whimper, or kick, acting as if the dagger were still inside him. "...nnnhhh."

Tears were still streaming down his cheeks.

[ John winced upon seeing.. well.. everything, from the blood to the sinner’s insides. He was probably going to have nightmares about this later. ] {lmao}

..Definitely not good, then.

[ He covered the wound back up and pressed down as much as he could without causing more damage. ]

[ He needed a plan, and fast. His cabin was just a small walk away.. ]

{ ooc: Just gonna leave the opportunity for anything to happen.. }

The dagger suddenly unlatched itself from the sheriff's belt, flying off in the direction they'd come from.

The distant sound of chains rattling echoed through the desert.

"Sinner!~ Where are youuuu...~"

A singsong voice was approaching.

The sinner's eyes widened. She was here, and the dagger had shown her right where they were.

[ He let out a small yelp when the dagger was released. ]

Ack-! What the-

[ John froze upon hearing the chains. He was already having a bad feeling about this.. ]

[ He slowly turned towards the sound, his hand hovering over his holstered Gleam. ]

Finally, he spoke his first coherent words.

"She's here."

The smell of burning flesh filled the area as his wound... somehow closed itself, leaving a faint scar. Then, the scar faded, leaving him fully healed, as if nothing had happened. Perhaps He was giving him a running chance.

He got up, suddenly full of energy. "We have to go. Now."

[ John was absolutely stunned. First, the dagger flew off and someone’s coming, now the sinner’s wound was healed as if nothing happened. ]

[ He stared at the other for a few seconds before remembering the situation they’re in, and standing up. He tucked the handkerchief he used into his pocket, ignoring the fact that it was drenched in blood. ]

Uh- Right.

[ All of his questions would probably be answered later. For now, they had to run. ]

I know a few places ‘round here, hopefully it’ll be safe from.. whoever this “she” is. C’mon.

[ John took off without another word, cutting through the oasis’ bushes and out into the desert. ]

"I- Hey, wait up!-" he shouted, already being left in the dust. He wasn't used to the soft desert sand, and he could barely run on it.

"(huff) (puff) Slow DOWN-!"

The chains were close. She was right behind him. He tried running faster.

Looking back - she was RIGHT THERE - was all it took for him to miss the buried ruins just ahead. His boot caught on a corner of sandstone.

Then he fell.

"SHIT--" He scrambled to get up, but was grabbed by his collar and lifted into the air. "GHN- LET ME GO!" he yelped, kicking at the air.

"Fully healed, are we?~" Ire giggled. "You're always so much fun to play with."

#yeehamen #soul-to-soul #soul-to-outsoul

Hm?

[ He skidded to a halt, pushing up sand as he did so, and looked back only to see the sinner being held up by Ire. ]

Ah crap!

[ John ran back a distance, but when he got close enough he slowed down to sneak behind a nearby chunk of sandstone. ]

[ The only thing he could really do now is watch.. ]

A short figure, slowly dragging himself through the desert sand, trailed too much blood behind him. He held his side, where a familiar-looking dagger was embedded hilt-deep. Occasionally, he'd spit up some of his own blood.

Strangely, the sand didn't seem to get in the way, simply falling away from his bloodstained robes and wound, despite the fact it should have been caked on by then.

(@poor-sinner)

[ Cowboy John stood by a cactus, shaving off the spines on one of its arms using a blade made from bone. He whistles to himself as if this is an everyday thing which, knowing him, it probably was. ]

[ Before he actually gets to cutting the cactus’ arm off, he pauses, hearing the sound of something—or in this case, someone—moving through the sand. John turns around to see another sinner. The first thing he notices is how injured he is, and instinctively ran over to help, completely forgetting about the blade in his hand. ]

“Aye! Wh-what happened to ya?!”

[ John tucked his blade into a pouch on his belt before crouching down to pick up the sinner, careful of any injuries. ]

“Gee, ya look like ya got jumped by vultures..”

"...hhnnn." He was quivering. As he was picked up, he weakly kicked in pain, yelping as the dagger moved itself, twisting slightly into his guts with a quiet but noticeable crunching sound.

Although his skin felt clammy, and he was showing signs of blood loss, he wasn't pale at all, and blood kept slowly dripping from the wound. It was as if he somehow had an endless supply of it.

Tears were rolling down his cheeks, drying up slowly in the hot desert air. He'd probably traveled a long way to escape whoever had done this to him.

[ John winced at the dagger as it dug itself deeper into the wound. Not good. Not good at all. He was going to have to take that out before it got any deeper. ]

Damnit..

[ He inhaled and deeply exhaled, shifting his hold on the sinner so he could get a good grip on it. ]

I’m gonna need ya to hold onto me, as tight as y’can, alright?

[ John waited for him to grab on before reaching for the dagger.. ]

"nn-hnn." He held on as tight as possible, curling up slightly.

(crnnch.) The dagger was already shifting deeper again. He kicked, and as it turned sideways further - "NNNKKHH-!" - he let out a choked whine. His tears were wetting the sheriff's clothes as his blood further stained the sand underneath him.

Okay.. Just gotta make this quick and..

[ Grabbing the dagger’s handle, he carefully pulled it out, making sure he didn’t make the wound worse than it already was. ]

[ Once it was removed, John hooked the dagger onto an empty spot on his belt and pulled out a handkerchief, quickly pressing it to the wound. ]

"g-gh-nnn--" He whimpered as the handle was grabbed, twitching in pain. As it was carefully pulled out, blood spilling on the sand-

"AA-AAAA-AAA-AANHHH--!" -he screamed, kicking, his voice cracking.

Then, he made a quiet, pained, choking sound. The dagger's barbs had caught on his guts, pulling them out partially along with it.

"ghkk." His grip began to loosen as he quivered in agony. His blood colored the handkerchief a dark red the moment it was pressed on the wound.

It’s okay, yer gonna be fine.

[ John wasn’t the best at comforting others in times like these, his words came out a little rough. ]

You’ll be fine.

[ He then shifted his hold on him once more, now to make sure he was a little comfortable and was still pressing down on the handkerchief. ]

[ ..And finally, he started to walk in what seemed like a random direction, the sinner in his arms. His pace was quick. He knew where he was going. ]

He allowed himself to fall limp as he was held again. The pressure on his wound was extremely painful, but he did his best to ignore it.

"hnn... hnnn..." His breathing was strained, and his eyes were barely open, but he was alive.

He would always be alive.

Occasionally, he would spit up some blood, which would stain the sand.

As he quietly wept, the pain in his side only getting worse, he found solace in knowing he would be safe soon.

[ From there on, John didn’t talk all too much, his focus was on getting to his destination. ]

[ They passed dunes, tumbleweeds, and countless amounts of cacti. Vultures occasionally flew overhead. ]

..

[ And after what felt like ages, a bit of greenery could be seen in the distance. It wasn’t the usual dusty-green that a cactus would have, it was lush. ]

..Almost there.

"...hhnnn." He could only whimper in pain.

While he didn't look pale, he felt cold and clammy, like he had lost a lot of blood... but he was still bleeding at the same rate he had been.

His vision was too blurry and unfocused to know where he was.

Hearing the words 'almost there' made him feel ever so slightly more relieved.

[ More time ticked by, getting closer and closer to this patch of green. ]

[ The sound of water gently splashing becomes more audible with each step John takes. ]

[ He stepped through the shrubs, finally making it to his goal. An oasis. ]

We’re here. How’re ya holdin’ up?

[ He crouched down and carefully lay the sinner against a palm tree. After doing so, he checked the wound that the dagger left, making sure it didn’t worsen. ]

"How're ya holdin' up?"

"...hh... hhCCK--" The sinner promptly threw up a concerning amount of his own blood. He was not doing well.

The wound wasn't festering or infected, but it was still bleeding horribly. His guts were visible, and were almost slipping out again. He was quivering in pain, and would occasionally yelp, whimper, or kick, acting as if the dagger were still inside him. "...nnnhhh."

Tears were still streaming down his cheeks.

[ John winced upon seeing.. well.. everything, from the blood to the sinner’s insides. He was probably going to have nightmares about this later. ] {lmao}

..Definitely not good, then.

[ He covered the wound back up and pressed down as much as he could without causing more damage. ]

[ He needed a plan, and fast. His cabin was just a small walk away.. ]

{ ooc: Just gonna leave the opportunity for anything to happen.. }

The dagger suddenly unlatched itself from the sheriff's belt, flying off in the direction they'd come from.

The distant sound of chains rattling echoed through the desert.

"Sinner!~ Where are youuuu...~"

A singsong voice was approaching.

The sinner's eyes widened. She was here, and the dagger had shown her right where they were.

[ He let out a small yelp when the dagger was released. ]

Ack-! What the-

[ John froze upon hearing the chains. He was already having a bad feeling about this.. ]

[ He slowly turned towards the sound, his hand hovering over his holstered Gleam. ]

Finally, he spoke his first coherent words.

"She's here."

The smell of burning flesh filled the area as his wound... somehow closed itself, leaving a faint scar. Then, the scar faded, leaving him fully healed, as if nothing had happened. Perhaps He was giving him a running chance.

He got up, suddenly full of energy. "We have to go. Now."

#yeehamen #soul-to-soul #soul-to-outsoul

[ John was absolutely stunned. First, the dagger flew off and someone’s coming, now the sinner’s wound was healed as if nothing happened. ]

[ He stared at the other for a few seconds before remembering the situation they’re in, and standing up. He tucked the handkerchief he used into his pocket, ignoring the fact that it was drenched in blood. ]

Uh- Right.

[ All of his questions would probably be answered later. For now, they had to run. ]

I know a few places ‘round here, hopefully it’ll be safe from.. whoever this “she” is. C’mon.

[ John took off without another word, cutting through the oasis’ bushes and out into the desert. ]

•You have been gifted a mysterious red flower...it seems to be beating like a heart in your palms...•

~ @fallfrom-grace

Eh?

[ John held up the flower, trying to get a better look at it in the desert sun.. ]

Never seen a flower like this.. Hm.

{ ooc: May curiosity shoot the sheriff. Do as much as you wish. }

fallfrom-grace

•The flower seems to recoil at the sun, the dark green vines constricting your wrists as if trying to pull away from the brightness.•

Wha- Hey!?

[ He scrambles to try and rip the vines off of his wrists, but to no avail. He slightly panics as it seems like this flower has more to it than what he thought. ]

fallfrom-grace

•The vines come off easy, thorns breaking into his skin at the ripping; some tearing and splattering a deep black fluid onto him and the sand.•

•It seemed to wilt at the injuries to its vines, petals shriveling up.•

Ow! Damnit-

[ John continues, now trying to take out the thorns despite the pain. ]

C’mon..

#yeehamen

A short figure, slowly dragging himself through the desert sand, trailed too much blood behind him. He held his side, where a familiar-looking dagger was embedded hilt-deep. Occasionally, he'd spit up some of his own blood.

Strangely, the sand didn't seem to get in the way, simply falling away from his bloodstained robes and wound, despite the fact it should have been caked on by then.

(@poor-sinner)

[ Cowboy John stood by a cactus, shaving off the spines on one of its arms using a blade made from bone. He whistles to himself as if this is an everyday thing which, knowing him, it probably was. ]

[ Before he actually gets to cutting the cactus’ arm off, he pauses, hearing the sound of something—or in this case, someone—moving through the sand. John turns around to see another sinner. The first thing he notices is how injured he is, and instinctively ran over to help, completely forgetting about the blade in his hand. ]

“Aye! Wh-what happened to ya?!”

[ John tucked his blade into a pouch on his belt before crouching down to pick up the sinner, careful of any injuries. ]

“Gee, ya look like ya got jumped by vultures..”

"...hhnnn." He was quivering. As he was picked up, he weakly kicked in pain, yelping as the dagger moved itself, twisting slightly into his guts with a quiet but noticeable crunching sound.

Although his skin felt clammy, and he was showing signs of blood loss, he wasn't pale at all, and blood kept slowly dripping from the wound. It was as if he somehow had an endless supply of it.

Tears were rolling down his cheeks, drying up slowly in the hot desert air. He'd probably traveled a long way to escape whoever had done this to him.

[ John winced at the dagger as it dug itself deeper into the wound. Not good. Not good at all. He was going to have to take that out before it got any deeper. ]

Damnit..

[ He inhaled and deeply exhaled, shifting his hold on the sinner so he could get a good grip on it. ]

I’m gonna need ya to hold onto me, as tight as y’can, alright?

[ John waited for him to grab on before reaching for the dagger.. ]

"nn-hnn." He held on as tight as possible, curling up slightly.

(crnnch.) The dagger was already shifting deeper again. He kicked, and as it turned sideways further - "NNNKKHH-!" - he let out a choked whine. His tears were wetting the sheriff's clothes as his blood further stained the sand underneath him.

Okay.. Just gotta make this quick and..

[ Grabbing the dagger’s handle, he carefully pulled it out, making sure he didn’t make the wound worse than it already was. ]

[ Once it was removed, John hooked the dagger onto an empty spot on his belt and pulled out a handkerchief, quickly pressing it to the wound. ]

"g-gh-nnn--" He whimpered as the handle was grabbed, twitching in pain. As it was carefully pulled out, blood spilling on the sand-

"AA-AAAA-AAA-AANHHH--!" -he screamed, kicking, his voice cracking.

Then, he made a quiet, pained, choking sound. The dagger's barbs had caught on his guts, pulling them out partially along with it.

"ghkk." His grip began to loosen as he quivered in agony. His blood colored the handkerchief a dark red the moment it was pressed on the wound.

It’s okay, yer gonna be fine.

[ John wasn’t the best at comforting others in times like these, his words came out a little rough. ]

You’ll be fine.

[ He then shifted his hold on him once more, now to make sure he was a little comfortable and was still pressing down on the handkerchief. ]

[ ..And finally, he started to walk in what seemed like a random direction, the sinner in his arms. His pace was quick. He knew where he was going. ]

He allowed himself to fall limp as he was held again. The pressure on his wound was extremely painful, but he did his best to ignore it.

"hnn... hnnn..." His breathing was strained, and his eyes were barely open, but he was alive.

He would always be alive.

Occasionally, he would spit up some blood, which would stain the sand.

As he quietly wept, the pain in his side only getting worse, he found solace in knowing he would be safe soon.

[ From there on, John didn’t talk all too much, his focus was on getting to his destination. ]

[ They passed dunes, tumbleweeds, and countless amounts of cacti. Vultures occasionally flew overhead. ]

..

[ And after what felt like ages, a bit of greenery could be seen in the distance. It wasn’t the usual dusty-green that a cactus would have, it was lush. ]

..Almost there.

"...hhnnn." He could only whimper in pain.

While he didn't look pale, he felt cold and clammy, like he had lost a lot of blood... but he was still bleeding at the same rate he had been.

His vision was too blurry and unfocused to know where he was.

Hearing the words 'almost there' made him feel ever so slightly more relieved.

[ More time ticked by, getting closer and closer to this patch of green. ]

[ The sound of water gently splashing becomes more audible with each step John takes. ]

[ He stepped through the shrubs, finally making it to his goal. An oasis. ]

We’re here. How’re ya holdin’ up?

[ He crouched down and carefully lay the sinner against a palm tree. After doing so, he checked the wound that the dagger left, making sure it didn’t worsen. ]

"How're ya holdin' up?"

"...hh... hhCCK--" The sinner promptly threw up a concerning amount of his own blood. He was not doing well.

The wound wasn't festering or infected, but it was still bleeding horribly. His guts were visible, and were almost slipping out again. He was quivering in pain, and would occasionally yelp, whimper, or kick, acting as if the dagger were still inside him. "...nnnhhh."

Tears were still streaming down his cheeks.

[ John winced upon seeing.. well.. everything, from the blood to the sinner’s insides. He was probably going to have nightmares about this later. ] {lmao}

..Definitely not good, then.

[ He covered the wound back up and pressed down as much as he could without causing more damage. ]

[ He needed a plan, and fast. His cabin was just a small walk away.. ]

{ ooc: Just gonna leave the opportunity for anything to happen.. }

The dagger suddenly unlatched itself from the sheriff's belt, flying off in the direction they'd come from.

The distant sound of chains rattling echoed through the desert.

"Sinner!~ Where are youuuu...~"

A singsong voice was approaching.

The sinner's eyes widened. She was here, and the dagger had shown her right where they were.

#yeehamen #soul-to-soul #soul-to-outsoul #{ This is probably going to be hell for the both of them considering Cowboy also has Ire’s bound trait. 😭 }

[ He let out a small yelp when the dagger was released. ]

Ack-! What the-

[ John froze upon hearing the chains. He was already having a bad feeling about this.. ]

[ He slowly turned towards the sound, his hand hovering over his holstered Gleam. ]

•You have been gifted a mysterious red flower...it seems to be beating like a heart in your palms...•

~ @fallfrom-grace

Eh?

[ John held up the flower, trying to get a better look at it in the desert sun.. ]

Never seen a flower like this.. Hm.

{ ooc: May curiosity shoot the sheriff. Do as much as you wish. }

fallfrom-grace

•The flower seems to recoil at the sun, the dark green vines constricting your wrists as if trying to pull away from the brightness.•

Wha- Hey!?

[ He scrambles to try and rip the vines off of his wrists, but to no avail. He slightly panics as it seems like this flower has more to it than what he thought. ]

#yeehamen

•You have been gifted a mysterious red flower...it seems to be beating like a heart in your palms...•

~ @fallfrom-grace

Eh?

[ John held up the flower, trying to get a better look at it in the desert sun.. ]

Never seen a flower like this.. Hm.

{ ooc: May curiosity shoot the sheriff. Do as much as you wish. }

#yeehamen

A short figure, slowly dragging himself through the desert sand, trailed too much blood behind him. He held his side, where a familiar-looking dagger was embedded hilt-deep. Occasionally, he'd spit up some of his own blood.

Strangely, the sand didn't seem to get in the way, simply falling away from his bloodstained robes and wound, despite the fact it should have been caked on by then.

(@poor-sinner)

[ Cowboy John stood by a cactus, shaving off the spines on one of its arms using a blade made from bone. He whistles to himself as if this is an everyday thing which, knowing him, it probably was. ]

[ Before he actually gets to cutting the cactus’ arm off, he pauses, hearing the sound of something—or in this case, someone—moving through the sand. John turns around to see another sinner. The first thing he notices is how injured he is, and instinctively ran over to help, completely forgetting about the blade in his hand. ]

“Aye! Wh-what happened to ya?!”

[ John tucked his blade into a pouch on his belt before crouching down to pick up the sinner, careful of any injuries. ]

“Gee, ya look like ya got jumped by vultures..”

"...hhnnn." He was quivering. As he was picked up, he weakly kicked in pain, yelping as the dagger moved itself, twisting slightly into his guts with a quiet but noticeable crunching sound.

Although his skin felt clammy, and he was showing signs of blood loss, he wasn't pale at all, and blood kept slowly dripping from the wound. It was as if he somehow had an endless supply of it.

Tears were rolling down his cheeks, drying up slowly in the hot desert air. He'd probably traveled a long way to escape whoever had done this to him.

[ John winced at the dagger as it dug itself deeper into the wound. Not good. Not good at all. He was going to have to take that out before it got any deeper. ]

Damnit..

[ He inhaled and deeply exhaled, shifting his hold on the sinner so he could get a good grip on it. ]

I’m gonna need ya to hold onto me, as tight as y’can, alright?

[ John waited for him to grab on before reaching for the dagger.. ]

"nn-hnn." He held on as tight as possible, curling up slightly.

(crnnch.) The dagger was already shifting deeper again. He kicked, and as it turned sideways further - "NNNKKHH-!" - he let out a choked whine. His tears were wetting the sheriff's clothes as his blood further stained the sand underneath him.

Okay.. Just gotta make this quick and..

[ Grabbing the dagger’s handle, he carefully pulled it out, making sure he didn’t make the wound worse than it already was. ]

[ Once it was removed, John hooked the dagger onto an empty spot on his belt and pulled out a handkerchief, quickly pressing it to the wound. ]

"g-gh-nnn--" He whimpered as the handle was grabbed, twitching in pain. As it was carefully pulled out, blood spilling on the sand-

"AA-AAAA-AAA-AANHHH--!" -he screamed, kicking, his voice cracking.

Then, he made a quiet, pained, choking sound. The dagger's barbs had caught on his guts, pulling them out partially along with it.

"ghkk." His grip began to loosen as he quivered in agony. His blood colored the handkerchief a dark red the moment it was pressed on the wound.

It’s okay, yer gonna be fine.

[ John wasn’t the best at comforting others in times like these, his words came out a little rough. ]

You’ll be fine.

[ He then shifted his hold on him once more, now to make sure he was a little comfortable and was still pressing down on the handkerchief. ]

[ ..And finally, he started to walk in what seemed like a random direction, the sinner in his arms. His pace was quick. He knew where he was going. ]

He allowed himself to fall limp as he was held again. The pressure on his wound was extremely painful, but he did his best to ignore it.

"hnn... hnnn..." His breathing was strained, and his eyes were barely open, but he was alive.

He would always be alive.

Occasionally, he would spit up some blood, which would stain the sand.

As he quietly wept, the pain in his side only getting worse, he found solace in knowing he would be safe soon.

[ From there on, John didn’t talk all too much, his focus was on getting to his destination. ]

[ They passed dunes, tumbleweeds, and countless amounts of cacti. Vultures occasionally flew overhead. ]

..

[ And after what felt like ages, a bit of greenery could be seen in the distance. It wasn’t the usual dusty-green that a cactus would have, it was lush. ]

..Almost there.

"...hhnnn." He could only whimper in pain.

While he didn't look pale, he felt cold and clammy, like he had lost a lot of blood... but he was still bleeding at the same rate he had been.

His vision was too blurry and unfocused to know where he was.

Hearing the words 'almost there' made him feel ever so slightly more relieved.

[ More time ticked by, getting closer and closer to this patch of green. ]

[ The sound of water gently splashing becomes more audible with each step John takes. ]

[ He stepped through the shrubs, finally making it to his goal. An oasis. ]

We’re here. How’re ya holdin’ up?

[ He crouched down and carefully lay the sinner against a palm tree. After doing so, he checked the wound that the dagger left, making sure it didn’t worsen. ]

"How're ya holdin' up?"

"...hh... hhCCK--" The sinner promptly threw up a concerning amount of his own blood. He was not doing well.

The wound wasn't festering or infected, but it was still bleeding horribly. His guts were visible, and were almost slipping out again. He was quivering in pain, and would occasionally yelp, whimper, or kick, acting as if the dagger were still inside him. "...nnnhhh."

Tears were still streaming down his cheeks.

[ John winced upon seeing.. well.. everything, from the blood to the sinner’s insides. He was probably going to have nightmares about this later. ] {lmao}

..Definitely not good, then.

[ He covered the wound back up and pressed down as much as he could without causing more damage. ]

[ He needed a plan, and fast. His cabin was just a small walk away.. ]

{ ooc: Just gonna leave the opportunity for anything to happen.. }

A short figure, slowly dragging himself through the desert sand, trailed too much blood behind him. He held his side, where a familiar-looking dagger was embedded hilt-deep. Occasionally, he'd spit up some of his own blood.

Strangely, the sand didn't seem to get in the way, simply falling away from his bloodstained robes and wound, despite the fact it should have been caked on by then.

(@poor-sinner)

[ Cowboy John stood by a cactus, shaving off the spines on one of its arms using a blade made from bone. He whistles to himself as if this is an everyday thing which, knowing him, it probably was. ]

[ Before he actually gets to cutting the cactus’ arm off, he pauses, hearing the sound of something—or in this case, someone—moving through the sand. John turns around to see another sinner. The first thing he notices is how injured he is, and instinctively ran over to help, completely forgetting about the blade in his hand. ]

“Aye! Wh-what happened to ya?!”

[ John tucked his blade into a pouch on his belt before crouching down to pick up the sinner, careful of any injuries. ]

“Gee, ya look like ya got jumped by vultures..”

"...hhnnn." He was quivering. As he was picked up, he weakly kicked in pain, yelping as the dagger moved itself, twisting slightly into his guts with a quiet but noticeable crunching sound.

Although his skin felt clammy, and he was showing signs of blood loss, he wasn't pale at all, and blood kept slowly dripping from the wound. It was as if he somehow had an endless supply of it.

Tears were rolling down his cheeks, drying up slowly in the hot desert air. He'd probably traveled a long way to escape whoever had done this to him.

[ John winced at the dagger as it dug itself deeper into the wound. Not good. Not good at all. He was going to have to take that out before it got any deeper. ]

Damnit..

[ He inhaled and deeply exhaled, shifting his hold on the sinner so he could get a good grip on it. ]

I’m gonna need ya to hold onto me, as tight as y’can, alright?

[ John waited for him to grab on before reaching for the dagger.. ]

"nn-hnn." He held on as tight as possible, curling up slightly.

(crnnch.) The dagger was already shifting deeper again. He kicked, and as it turned sideways further - "NNNKKHH-!" - he let out a choked whine. His tears were wetting the sheriff's clothes as his blood further stained the sand underneath him.

Okay.. Just gotta make this quick and..

[ Grabbing the dagger’s handle, he carefully pulled it out, making sure he didn’t make the wound worse than it already was. ]

[ Once it was removed, John hooked the dagger onto an empty spot on his belt and pulled out a handkerchief, quickly pressing it to the wound. ]

"g-gh-nnn--" He whimpered as the handle was grabbed, twitching in pain. As it was carefully pulled out, blood spilling on the sand-

"AA-AAAA-AAA-AANHHH--!" -he screamed, kicking, his voice cracking.

Then, he made a quiet, pained, choking sound. The dagger's barbs had caught on his guts, pulling them out partially along with it.

"ghkk." His grip began to loosen as he quivered in agony. His blood colored the handkerchief a dark red the moment it was pressed on the wound.

It’s okay, yer gonna be fine.

[ John wasn’t the best at comforting others in times like these, his words came out a little rough. ]

You’ll be fine.

[ He then shifted his hold on him once more, now to make sure he was a little comfortable and was still pressing down on the handkerchief. ]

[ ..And finally, he started to walk in what seemed like a random direction, the sinner in his arms. His pace was quick. He knew where he was going. ]

He allowed himself to fall limp as he was held again. The pressure on his wound was extremely painful, but he did his best to ignore it.

"hnn... hnnn..." His breathing was strained, and his eyes were barely open, but he was alive.

He would always be alive.

Occasionally, he would spit up some blood, which would stain the sand.

As he quietly wept, the pain in his side only getting worse, he found solace in knowing he would be safe soon.

[ From there on, John didn’t talk all too much, his focus was on getting to his destination. ]

[ They passed dunes, tumbleweeds, and countless amounts of cacti. Vultures occasionally flew overhead. ]

..

[ And after what felt like ages, a bit of greenery could be seen in the distance. It wasn’t the usual dusty-green that a cactus would have, it was lush. ]

..Almost there.

"...hhnnn." He could only whimper in pain.

While he didn't look pale, he felt cold and clammy, like he had lost a lot of blood... but he was still bleeding at the same rate he had been.

His vision was too blurry and unfocused to know where he was.

Hearing the words 'almost there' made him feel ever so slightly more relieved.

[ More time ticked by, getting closer and closer to this patch of green. ]

[ The sound of water gently splashing becomes more audible with each step John takes. ]

[ He stepped through the shrubs, finally making it to his goal. An oasis. ]

We’re here. How’re ya holdin’ up?

[ He crouched down and carefully lay the sinner against a palm tree. After doing so, he checked the wound that the dagger left, making sure it didn’t worsen. ]

A short figure, slowly dragging himself through the desert sand, trailed too much blood behind him. He held his side, where a familiar-looking dagger was embedded hilt-deep. Occasionally, he'd spit up some of his own blood.

Strangely, the sand didn't seem to get in the way, simply falling away from his bloodstained robes and wound, despite the fact it should have been caked on by then.

(@poor-sinner)

[ Cowboy John stood by a cactus, shaving off the spines on one of its arms using a blade made from bone. He whistles to himself as if this is an everyday thing which, knowing him, it probably was. ]

[ Before he actually gets to cutting the cactus’ arm off, he pauses, hearing the sound of something—or in this case, someone—moving through the sand. John turns around to see another sinner. The first thing he notices is how injured he is, and instinctively ran over to help, completely forgetting about the blade in his hand. ]

“Aye! Wh-what happened to ya?!”

[ John tucked his blade into a pouch on his belt before crouching down to pick up the sinner, careful of any injuries. ]

“Gee, ya look like ya got jumped by vultures..”

"...hhnnn." He was quivering. As he was picked up, he weakly kicked in pain, yelping as the dagger moved itself, twisting slightly into his guts with a quiet but noticeable crunching sound.

Although his skin felt clammy, and he was showing signs of blood loss, he wasn't pale at all, and blood kept slowly dripping from the wound. It was as if he somehow had an endless supply of it.

Tears were rolling down his cheeks, drying up slowly in the hot desert air. He'd probably traveled a long way to escape whoever had done this to him.

[ John winced at the dagger as it dug itself deeper into the wound. Not good. Not good at all. He was going to have to take that out before it got any deeper. ]

Damnit..

[ He inhaled and deeply exhaled, shifting his hold on the sinner so he could get a good grip on it. ]

I’m gonna need ya to hold onto me, as tight as y’can, alright?

[ John waited for him to grab on before reaching for the dagger.. ]

"nn-hnn." He held on as tight as possible, curling up slightly.

(crnnch.) The dagger was already shifting deeper again. He kicked, and as it turned sideways further - "NNNKKHH-!" - he let out a choked whine. His tears were wetting the sheriff's clothes as his blood further stained the sand underneath him.

Okay.. Just gotta make this quick and..

[ Grabbing the dagger’s handle, he carefully pulled it out, making sure he didn’t make the wound worse than it already was. ]

[ Once it was removed, John hooked the dagger onto an empty spot on his belt and pulled out a handkerchief, quickly pressing it to the wound. ]

"g-gh-nnn--" He whimpered as the handle was grabbed, twitching in pain. As it was carefully pulled out, blood spilling on the sand-

"AA-AAAA-AAA-AANHHH--!" -he screamed, kicking, his voice cracking.

Then, he made a quiet, pained, choking sound. The dagger's barbs had caught on his guts, pulling them out partially along with it.

"ghkk." His grip began to loosen as he quivered in agony. His blood colored the handkerchief a dark red the moment it was pressed on the wound.

It’s okay, yer gonna be fine.

[ John wasn’t the best at comforting others in times like these, his words came out a little rough. ]

You’ll be fine.

[ He then shifted his hold on him once more, now to make sure he was a little comfortable and was still pressing down on the handkerchief. ]

[ ..And finally, he started to walk in what seemed like a random direction, the sinner in his arms. His pace was quick. He knew where he was going. ]

He allowed himself to fall limp as he was held again. The pressure on his wound was extremely painful, but he did his best to ignore it.

"hnn... hnnn..." His breathing was strained, and his eyes were barely open, but he was alive.

He would always be alive.

Occasionally, he would spit up some blood, which would stain the sand.

As he quietly wept, the pain in his side only getting worse, he found solace in knowing he would be safe soon.

[ From there on, John didn’t talk all too much, his focus was on getting to his destination. ]

[ They passed dunes, tumbleweeds, and countless amounts of cacti. Vultures occasionally flew overhead. ]

..

[ And after what felt like ages, a bit of greenery could be seen in the distance. It wasn’t the usual dusty-green that a cactus would have, it was lush. ]

..Almost there.

A short figure, slowly dragging himself through the desert sand, trailed too much blood behind him. He held his side, where a familiar-looking dagger was embedded hilt-deep. Occasionally, he'd spit up some of his own blood.

Strangely, the sand didn't seem to get in the way, simply falling away from his bloodstained robes and wound, despite the fact it should have been caked on by then.

(@poor-sinner)

[ Cowboy John stood by a cactus, shaving off the spines on one of its arms using a blade made from bone. He whistles to himself as if this is an everyday thing which, knowing him, it probably was. ]

[ Before he actually gets to cutting the cactus’ arm off, he pauses, hearing the sound of something—or in this case, someone—moving through the sand. John turns around to see another sinner. The first thing he notices is how injured he is, and instinctively ran over to help, completely forgetting about the blade in his hand. ]

“Aye! Wh-what happened to ya?!”

[ John tucked his blade into a pouch on his belt before crouching down to pick up the sinner, careful of any injuries. ]

“Gee, ya look like ya got jumped by vultures..”

"...hhnnn." He was quivering. As he was picked up, he weakly kicked in pain, yelping as the dagger moved itself, twisting slightly into his guts with a quiet but noticeable crunching sound.

Although his skin felt clammy, and he was showing signs of blood loss, he wasn't pale at all, and blood kept slowly dripping from the wound. It was as if he somehow had an endless supply of it.

Tears were rolling down his cheeks, drying up slowly in the hot desert air. He'd probably traveled a long way to escape whoever had done this to him.

[ John winced at the dagger as it dug itself deeper into the wound. Not good. Not good at all. He was going to have to take that out before it got any deeper. ]

Damnit..

[ He inhaled and deeply exhaled, shifting his hold on the sinner so he could get a good grip on it. ]

I’m gonna need ya to hold onto me, as tight as y’can, alright?

[ John waited for him to grab on before reaching for the dagger.. ]

"nn-hnn." He held on as tight as possible, curling up slightly.

(crnnch.) The dagger was already shifting deeper again. He kicked, and as it turned sideways further - "NNNKKHH-!" - he let out a choked whine. His tears were wetting the sheriff's clothes as his blood further stained the sand underneath him.

Okay.. Just gotta make this quick and..

[ Grabbing the dagger’s handle, he carefully pulled it out, making sure he didn’t make the wound worse than it already was. ]

[ Once it was removed, John hooked the dagger onto an empty spot on his belt and pulled out a handkerchief, quickly pressing it to the wound. ]

"g-gh-nnn--" He whimpered as the handle was grabbed, twitching in pain. As it was carefully pulled out, blood spilling on the sand-

"AA-AAAA-AAA-AANHHH--!" -he screamed, kicking, his voice cracking.

Then, he made a quiet, pained, choking sound. The dagger's barbs had caught on his guts, pulling them out partially along with it.

"ghkk." His grip began to loosen as he quivered in agony. His blood colored the handkerchief a dark red the moment it was pressed on the wound.

It’s okay, yer gonna be fine.

[ John wasn’t the best at comforting others in times like these, his words came out a little rough. ]

You’ll be fine.

[ He then shifted his hold on him once more, now to make sure he was a little comfortable and was still pressing down on the handkerchief. ]

[ ..And finally, he started to walk in what seemed like a random direction, the sinner in his arms. His pace was quick. He knew where he was going. ]

A short figure, slowly dragging himself through the desert sand, trailed too much blood behind him. He held his side, where a familiar-looking dagger was embedded hilt-deep. Occasionally, he'd spit up some of his own blood.

Strangely, the sand didn't seem to get in the way, simply falling away from his bloodstained robes and wound, despite the fact it should have been caked on by then.

(@poor-sinner)

[ Cowboy John stood by a cactus, shaving off the spines on one of its arms using a blade made from bone. He whistles to himself as if this is an everyday thing which, knowing him, it probably was. ]

[ Before he actually gets to cutting the cactus’ arm off, he pauses, hearing the sound of something—or in this case, someone—moving through the sand. John turns around to see another sinner. The first thing he notices is how injured he is, and instinctively ran over to help, completely forgetting about the blade in his hand. ]

“Aye! Wh-what happened to ya?!”

[ John tucked his blade into a pouch on his belt before crouching down to pick up the sinner, careful of any injuries. ]

“Gee, ya look like ya got jumped by vultures..”

"...hhnnn." He was quivering. As he was picked up, he weakly kicked in pain, yelping as the dagger moved itself, twisting slightly into his guts with a quiet but noticeable crunching sound.

Although his skin felt clammy, and he was showing signs of blood loss, he wasn't pale at all, and blood kept slowly dripping from the wound. It was as if he somehow had an endless supply of it.

Tears were rolling down his cheeks, drying up slowly in the hot desert air. He'd probably traveled a long way to escape whoever had done this to him.

[ John winced at the dagger as it dug itself deeper into the wound. Not good. Not good at all. He was going to have to take that out before it got any deeper. ]

Damnit..

[ He inhaled and deeply exhaled, shifting his hold on the sinner so he could get a good grip on it. ]

I’m gonna need ya to hold onto me, as tight as y’can, alright?

[ John waited for him to grab on before reaching for the dagger.. ]

"nn-hnn." He held on as tight as possible, curling up slightly.

(crnnch.) The dagger was already shifting deeper again. He kicked, and as it turned sideways further - "NNNKKHH-!" - he let out a choked whine. His tears were wetting the sheriff's clothes as his blood further stained the sand underneath him.

Okay.. Just gotta make this quick and..

[ Grabbing the dagger’s handle, he carefully pulled it out, making sure he didn’t make the wound worse than it already was. ]

[ Once it was removed, John hooked the dagger onto an empty spot on his belt and pulled out a handkerchief, quickly pressing it to the wound. ]

A short figure, slowly dragging himself through the desert sand, trailed too much blood behind him. He held his side, where a familiar-looking dagger was embedded hilt-deep. Occasionally, he'd spit up some of his own blood.

Strangely, the sand didn't seem to get in the way, simply falling away from his bloodstained robes and wound, despite the fact it should have been caked on by then.

(@poor-sinner)

[ Cowboy John stood by a cactus, shaving off the spines on one of its arms using a blade made from bone. He whistles to himself as if this is an everyday thing which, knowing him, it probably was. ]

[ Before he actually gets to cutting the cactus’ arm off, he pauses, hearing the sound of something—or in this case, someone—moving through the sand. John turns around to see another sinner. The first thing he notices is how injured he is, and instinctively ran over to help, completely forgetting about the blade in his hand. ]

“Aye! Wh-what happened to ya?!”

[ John tucked his blade into a pouch on his belt before crouching down to pick up the sinner, careful of any injuries. ]

“Gee, ya look like ya got jumped by vultures..”

"...hhnnn." He was quivering. As he was picked up, he weakly kicked in pain, yelping as the dagger moved itself, twisting slightly into his guts with a quiet but noticeable crunching sound.

Although his skin felt clammy, and he was showing signs of blood loss, he wasn't pale at all, and blood kept slowly dripping from the wound. It was as if he somehow had an endless supply of it.

Tears were rolling down his cheeks, drying up slowly in the hot desert air. He'd probably traveled a long way to escape whoever had done this to him.

[ John winced at the dagger as it dug itself deeper into the wound. Not good. Not good at all. He was going to have to take that out before it got any deeper. ]

Damnit..

[ He inhaled and deeply exhaled, shifting his hold on the sinner so he could get a good grip on it. ]

I’m gonna need ya to hold onto me, as tight as y’can, alright?

[ John waited for him to grab on before reaching for the dagger.. ]