"Shelter"
Cuphead one shot set in @maxtheweirdo1812's Infection au. Don also belongs to @maxtheweirdo1812. Peter belongs to @phoneheadedemployee
Peter was only travelling with Don because there was power in numbers. The horned cup was annoying at best and unbearably positive at worst. The unlikely pair had been travelling for a few weeks now.
Don spotted dark clouds blanketing the sky. "We should take cover.. the forest won't be safe in the storm," he noted aloud.
Peter nodded slowly, examining his surroundings. The phone headed man saw the lighthouse not too far from them. The old building looked surprising good considering the state of the world.
"The lighthouse. It should do for the night"
Don grinned and Peter led him to the dock beside Elder Kettle's old cabin. The cabin had long collapsed since the infection spread. The dock also wasn't in the best condition. The wood closest to the sea was moldly and falling apart. Curiously the dingy tied to a dock post was destoryed. Although the damage didn't look weather inflicted.
"Looks like we have to swim.. C'mon sunshine n rainbows"
The phone headed man shed his jacket and dipped into the sea water. It was incredibly cold but he figured he and Don could warm up once inside. Don hesitated but followed after Peter. He shivered as he swam but Peter paid Don no mind.
The pair soon made it to the shore where the lighthouse stood. Don lifted his hand to knock but Peter stepped ahead of him and tried to open the door. Locked.
"Peter! You should be glad it's locked! That's so rude! I can't believe you"
"Can't you? I didn't assume anybody lived in there"
He paused for a moment in thought before back up to the water's edge and rushed at the door, slamming his weight into it. The phone headed man fell with the door, stirring a puff of dust. He heard Don's disapproving sigh. The pair was distracted by the sound of footsteps.
A tall figure stood in the doorway of the stairwell. The figure stepped closer. Once soft, vibrant, red and amber fur was dusty, matted and wirey. Even a glimpse of cobwebs tangled in the fur. They could even see their ribs. The figure's eyes were blue. At first it was hard to tell, as their eyes were glossed over with paranoia.
The pair were so focused on the figure poor condition that they didn't see the growing hostility. Lips curled back in an animalistic snarl, pupils narrowed into dangerous slits, hackles raised. Don stepped back, his unmatching eyes wide in fear and caution.
"OUT FLITHY PLAGUE RIDDEN MORSELS! OUT OUT OUT!" The figure's voice has raspy and broken as if it hadn't been used in quite some time. It had a strong quality to it that may have once been charming.
"Hold on, we just came to spend the night. We'll be gone as soon as the storm passes," Peter softly said, keeping his gaze locked with the figure's. One hand slowly inched toward his dripping belt, for his knife, just in case.
"I don't care why you come. GET OUT! You've already brought the flith inside. No more damage must be done"
One more step and the pair could see that the figure was a bat. A bat who seemed to be made of fruit, apple and lemon specifically. No wonder he seemed so hostile.
"Out. Now. Before I slit your throats and leave you to the fish"
Peter grabbed Don's wrist and dragged him back to the sand outside. They would have to shelter somewhere else. Soon, too. Those storm clouds were moving quickly now.