♗(del, i'm trash leave me)
♗: Your muse falling asleep with their head in my muse’s lap - @delwalkxr
“I swear to fuck if you fall asleep I’m leaving you out here.” Those were the exact words that left her lips when Del decided to make himself comfortable with his head in her lap.
They’d been out all day, Elliot deciding that Delmont Walker was both one of the most handsome men in Cheyenne (counting herself as the most attractive on her more masculine days) and rather good company. He had energy and the same want to explore as she did, it was Elliot’s duty to exploit that. They’d been around the wastes of Cheyenne, Elliot showing him how fast her bike really went and him showing off his biceps on demand. It was amazing to her, all she had to do was word herself right and it was as if she found herself in some kind of apocalyptic Chippendale show; a wonderful addition a world in disarray.
They stopped to take in the sunset that seemed to be unchanged by the horrors that riddled every corner of Cheyenne. Elliot always had an appreciation for nature and naturally took her sketchpad out to make of it what she could. That seemed to peak Del’s interest and the conversation seemed to flow. She made broad pencil line work and used the edge of the lead tip to shade according while Del asked about art and then about tattooing too. Elliot explained the education she’d received, the shoddy tattoos she’d done before being certified and then went on to talk about the work she’d had done on herself. Sketchpad was left off to the side as the sun went down over the horizon, hands working to point out pieces she wanted to draw attention to. “This one. I got this one when I was twenty two. I wanted to try out watercolor and I figured I wanted to test it out on myself before anyone else.”
Elliot found herself resting back on her hands when the stars started to make themselves known in the sky. It was easy to get lost in vastness and she always did appreciate quiet moments between the hectic hack and slash game she had to play with the walkers. She catch Del yawning in her peripheral vision and smirked as she chastised him for it. “Am I keeping you up, Delly?” He was cute. There was something about the contrast of how childlike and how encased in muscle he was that had Elliot so intrigued; there was something about the aesthetically pleasing that always reeled her in. The artist didn’t generally hang around with those she deemed soft but there was something in that grin of his that made her want to keep the companionship. Del chose to lay down rather than just mimic the position Elliot had taken and he slowly but surely found his head in her lap as she talked about the one of her experiences tattooing a celebrity and how utterly idiotic they were. Once she scolded him she didn’t say anything else, she toyed with his hair and continued on with her story. “So yeah, she’s a fucking bitch. Well, was. I don’t know if she would have made it through all this. If she has she’s still got a sick looking dragon going up her back. If not then a walker has one. Guess it’s all advertising.” Elliot trailed off, noticing that she’d stopped receiving any sort of response, not even as much as a small nod.
Of course he was asleep. His little snores hear over the silence around the open field Elliot had picked. She considered pushing his head out of her lap and watching him flounder as he tried to wake himself up. Sure that would have been funny, but the tactile part of Elliot selfishly stopped her. She lived for touch, it meant so much more to her than words ever did. Perhaps that was noticeable in the way she spoke. Actions were the only thing that really counted to her and physicality was a language she always seemed to hear over everything else. But it was all getting a little saccharine for her tastes. When he woke up he’d grin up at her with that face of his and it would be as if Elliot Ricker had gone entirely weak at the knee for this lapdog of a man; that wouldn’t do. The shove was brisk, but gentle hands saw that he didn’t end up hurt. “You made your bed, Walker. Guess you’re staying here on your own.” She said as she hopped up and headed to her bike, the smallest smirk sitting on her lips as she glanced back at the adonis she’d left in her wake.
