little sneak from chapter 1 of my Jurassic West tbp au…
@irnspdr @acid-miwi @sammyfckmychungus @sluttyheroinneedle @briarswoods @finneyblakesrocketship07
His head is pounding.
The air is thick, it smells of a concoction of old reptile skin, leather, and decay. The ropes around his wrists are painfully tight, and he’s sure that with every struggling shake he’s only drawing more blood. Instead, he needs to draw a conclusion—where the fuck is he?
He looks around, though it’s too dark to make out much. There’s a flickering light dangling from the ceiling on a worn chain. With every beat, he’s able to outline the floorboards around him—useless, considering he can feel them anyway. There’s a desk in one corner, the chair pulled out. Above it droops a rope. A noose, maybe.
He can’t think straight; he must’ve been hit in the head. He doesn’t remember much. All he knows, is that he was with Dipper, herding a group of Parasaurolophus that got lost in a valley.
Wait—Dipper. He’s not here.
He clenches his jaw, floundering again and wincing as his wrists sting against the twine restraining him. He looks down at his feet, realising they aren’t tied. Whoever has him down here is possibly stupid. Most likely not.
He’s sure they’re expecting him to stand up, find a way out and run away as fast as he can; that’s what any fool would do. He’s smarter than that.
After what feels like hours of manual breathing in an attempt to inhale something other than a plumage of dust, he hears something.
A grunting sound.
Pitter patter. Pitter patter. Pitter patter.
Dip? Is that him?
Something nudges against a door he hadn’t noticed. A crack of light shines through, and he sees a small shadow at the bottom. Not Dipper.
Slowly, the door pushes open. A small, tawny creature with a ridged, meaty crown at the back of his head trots over to him. Its thick scales and stripes become visible as the door creaks open wider.
Is it a dinosaur?
He moves his foot, trying to draw the creature towards him.
“Hey, bud…” He starts, keeping his voice low. He tries to move his shoulders, instead turning to the side and looking behind him, where the small beast looks at him cluelessly. “You hungry?”
Judging by the size, he’s sure whatever this wouldn’t be close-minded to snacking on string. It tilts its head, sniffing the air.
“Come on… come on, boy… or… girl. Whatever you are.”
Carefully, it scampers over to him, sniffing his hands.
“Mossy?” A somewhat high-pitched voice sounds from elsewhere in the building, and he sighs internally, clenching his fists. The creature jumps back.
Footsteps.
“Mossy? Where’d you go, girl?”
