Rough Touch | accepting
Your muse clutches their hand tightly around my muse’s mouth to silence them. | @bloodsalted for Benny
It was no place to be wandering alone. Purgatory wasn't as lawless as one would believe — certain things staked CLAIM to territories. Worked together to keep others out. The dimension heightened instincts, after all. And what was the need for community but just another instinct? The pair had gotten separated trying to cross one such territory to save time. The things that claimed it? Nameless, as far as they knew. Appalachian monsters, if they had to guess. Ones elusive enough to not be common knowledge.
They'd been driven apart, the hunter and the vampire. Forced to flee in opposite directions as the THINGS closed in. Benny's origin point? The place he got sent to be remade? Nowhere NEAR their current location. And Dean had never died in that place, not once. There was no telling if he could leave Purgatory if he did — they had to be smart. Dean was picking his way through the brush when that strange howling reverberated again, sounding close as all hell. But before he could move, a hand clapped over his mouth from behind, and Dean was pulled backward against a solid chest while the other arm wrapped around his front.
"Shhhh," Benny whispered in his ear, blue eyes locked where the sound had come from. He was stronger than Dean, and would hold on if the hunter tried to pull away. He waited, still as stone, as the howling trailed off and the sound of breaking twigs faded off to their right. "Turns out, their favorite sound is runnin'. We gotta pick our way outta here slow." The vampire held on a bit longer, smirk evident before Dean was let go.
