☆The menace☆
Have sixteen year old Dylan!
@howdycowpokes @shad-art @cowboy-corvidae @just-a-lone-soul @quietasamouss @samaelmntzrp
"But ohhh, I love him! I do!" Victoria gushed, leaning against the counter, hand on her cheek. She frowned, sighing longingly, looking out the dusty old window. To the town. "But he's so....So to himself."
"He's also like, thirty."
Dylans voice chimed in, laying on the other side of the counter, one leg over the other, holding up a newspaper. He was learning to read, self taught. He was getting there. Slowly... maybe. He jummed, shifting it in his grasp. "He's old news."
"Hey, one day you'll be thirty too!" Victoria laughed, playfully smacking his shoulder, then smoothing out her pink dress.
The boy scoffed. "Me? You've got the wrong guy. I'll live to... I dunno, twenty." He put the newspaper down, sitting up and moving his hair out of his face. Wild and untamed, just like his spirit.
He wore a dirty white button up with a solid light brown vest over him. Jeans that were cut at the bottom to fit him more, a belt thst wasn't put on right, and a small bag slung over. His hair was a light brown with ginger spots, eyes shining brown in the sun, freckles littered around. A scar over the bridge of his nose and up his eye to boot, along with a few others unseen. He leaned his own cheek on his palm as he criss-crossed his legs. "I don't see the appeal is all."
"Oh, you don't see the appeal I anything! Besides shiny!" She scoffed, grumbling as she grabbed a rag, starting to clean tge counter. "He's good looking!"
"He's ruff!"
"He's got that hair!"
"He's got that flare too!" Dylan laughed at his own words, though they didn't make sense to Victoria. But she learned not to question it. The boy hummed, realizing she wasn't laughing with him. "He's to old for ya."
"Old smold..." the girl sighed again, pushing the shorter boy off the counter to clean thst space. "I j-just think-"
"That's the issue. Be like me, don't think!"
"If anyone were to be like you, the place eould be run by idiots!"
Dylan grabbed a piece of cheese, inspecting it. "It isn't already?"
Victoria gave him a look, before taking the cheese. "Very funny. These are peak days, ya know? If you actually stopped to enjoy life! Isn't that what you came here for?"
"No, I came here for a food and you didn't even give me that." The teen grgroaned, resting his arms over the counter dramatically.
"You didn't bring me what I want!"
"...oh yeah. Well-" A gun shot rang out and Dylan yelped in response, recognizing that as the signal to run. So he did so, scrambling out the door as the store manager, a mean fellow named Tailor, held a shot gun, spitting.
"How many times I gotta tell ya vermin to fuck off!"
The boy snickered, ducking along the sidewalk, avoiding people. He bumped into a few still, but ignored them as he slowed once near the stables. He ran a hand through his hair, looking back.
He frowned, feeling disappointed. He and Victoria had a deal; he brought her information, the likes, she gave him a food. But she hadn't been able to this time. He huffed, walking past the men working. Everday he peeked in to see if Luke was around. But he hadn't seen him in... two years now?
The sky was starting to dim and Dylan took thst sign; he trotted to his usual alleyway, kicking a can along the way. It clsttered as it hit a wall at the end, a bark and grown sounding.
Dylan smiled. "Pippersss!" He called, leaning down. A shadow stood, before running iver, barreling into the lad.
Pip was a Scottish terrier. Black fur that blended with the night, a fluffy beard to match his tail wagged, a happy bark leaving him.
(real pip with baby chance <3. Miss em)
Dylan laughed, hugging his companion. "Hey boy. Who's a good pip? You are! You are! Oh you are!" He nuzzled his cheek against his companion.
Pip huffed, sitting and letting him, knowing the drill. But it was cut short as Dylans stomach rumbled, and so did the dogs. They both winced and sat back, sighing. "Sorry pip... I didn't get food today..."
"Awww you here that pal? The kid ain't got food." A new voice was heard, chuckling. The boy quickly looked over, growling.
There stood two raggedy men; both skinny as can be. Both dirty. Dylan had seen them around before, unfortunately... the kid stood slowly, pips ears perked. "...Jolly and Jim." He flashed a smile. "Nice evening."
"The Irish doesn't have food." Jim drawled, eyes crazy almost. "He doesn't have food. But he is food."
Immediately dylan moved into action, jerking away and drawing his old knife. Jolly had grabbed the boys arm, digging his nails in. One thing about these two men; they were hunters. They hunted to survive. But they weren't animals hunters.
They preyed on the living. The breathing.
"Get em! 'N that rat dog too!"
Dylan yelped as he was pulled into the mans grasp, the other going for pip, who was already barking and snapping. The lad felt nails in his skin, drawing blood. No! He wouldn't be eaten alive!
He snarled, whipping his dagger aroubd and plunging it into tge mans heart, making him choke and gasp. As his grip weakened, Dylan ran out, tackling jolly and effectively killing him with a stab to the neck. No time wasted.
...he'd killed before. Plenty. When needed. When others tried to jump him. When others tried to touch him. This wasn't a first.
The boy tossed the dagger to the side, hissing at the blood on his hands.
"....does the red match me, Pip?"
