#deadpeg4sus

[deadpeg4sus]

We Meet Again, My Friend

Party Poison only expected the excursion to take a few hours--maybe a maximum of a night or two, if they were unlucky enough to encounter a few stray Dracs.

But instead? It took several weeks, hell, it could've been a couple months--only the Phoenix Witch knows how long Party had been forced to fend for themself, all alone, without any way to safely contact their fellow killjoys.

It was a simple ration run--Fun Ghoul and Jet Star had offered to come along, but they thought it was too plain jane to delegate too many of the Fab Four to. If only they had known what would go down... what would keep them away from home for so long... what would scar them all over and give them fresh nightmares to battle until dawn came along.

It's a lucky break that Party just happened to see the chipped aquamarine gloss of the diner in the distance--a shimmering lake in the Oasis, something that had made them book it, and caused them to trip several times in the process. They're malnourished, tired, weary; it's a wonder that they're still alive, all things considered.

They don't even have to make it to the diner, since they notice Ghoul out back--the Fab Four's demo man is doing his job being, well, a demo man, and there are several small explosions going off here and there. It's doing a fantastic job of blocking out Party's broken screams that are mutating into sobs, as they desperately call out for the closest killjoy that could--no, would help them.

It's a lucky break that Ghoul likely runs out of ammo, and nearly goes back into the diner to get more if not for Party's raw-throat wail.

"No--No, Ghoul, come back, please--!"

Their voice is desperate, laced with panic and pain and dehydration, and they don't even make it halfway before collapsing onto the desert sand. The heat and the soft, sifting dunes is hypnotizing; they're just so tired, they could drift off, right then and there... besides, Ghoul felt so out of reach, and they'd been wandering for so long.

Maybe some rest in the warm embrace of the sandhills would do Party Poison some good... maybe being swallowed hole wouldn't be so bad.

[x-dog-teeth-x]

Desert Winds RP @deadpeg4sus

Dusty, that’s the only way to describe the air that day, it’s dusty and dry and Dogteeth swears he can feel it settling on his skin. He’s sitting at the counter in the diner, sipping a flat can of soda, currently in human form and awake since before dawn. He’s been listening to the wind outside on this particularly gusty day, it’s not enough for sandstorm, but still going to disturb things out there.

”Did you want me to take watch again tonight?”

He asked suddenly, turning his head slightly to look over his shoulder at Party, the red walks quietly sure, but Dogteeth can still hear even a slight scuff of a boot on the diner’s old flooring.

“You said something to Kobra about Draculoid activity being high right now.”

The conversation hadn’t been to the dark haired young man but it’d still been hard to miss the killjoy when he spoke with his brother earlier in the back room.

But it’s an advantage of being able to shift, last night he’d rested but the last few Dogteeth has sat on the roof like a shadow watching the horizon all night.

Because the crude home-made permiter alarm hasn’t been working properly, and from the dog side he apparently has an instinctive need to protect his spot and the people in it now that he’s found it, especially the red, who’d had offered him the chance in the first place.