find the few living things [cowboys . day 1]
Jun 29, 2022 14:12:44 GMT -5
Post by pogue on Jun 29, 2022 14:12:44 GMT -5
T E X
"Stick close."
He spits out obvious words like they mean anything, the lantern light bouncing against his skin as he looks back towards his allies. The cave plays tricks on them as they walk, footsteps off in the distance followed by something sinister stepping close behind them followed by the shadows playing dirty tricks, dancing against the cave walls and pulling forth every bloody fear from the depth of his gut, sinister and cruel and everything true. Every breath feels like a betrayal as they walk, only the light of their lanterns as a guide and their delusion as armor against what lies ahead, lungs sitting frozen in his chest.
It's only when the light at the end of the harsh tunnel finally breaks that he feels himself breathe again, air escaping from dying lungs and slipping between split lips. He feels his body heave and sigh in response to him stumbling out into the light, half-hearted patched up gash on his back threatening to split and bloom underneath the sunlight whenever he moves his back too quickly. With every step it feels like the arena around them seems to open further, bare its fangs in the form of blooming flowers and dancing shadows, threatening to swallow them all whole and spit out only bone and marrow.
He gulps, swallows. grips the sickle in his grasp a little bit tighter before finally slowing to a halt outside of the cave, far enough away to not be noticeable. It's there that he drops his bag and collapses onto one of the nearby rocks jutting out from the entrance, eyes lingering on the sign above that seems to jut in and out of the rocks. He grimaces, chews on the thoughts and the memories of the different sounds and sights he'd heard when traversing the cave tunnels.
Not all of them could be chalked up to a hyper imagination, he was smart enough to know that.
"Kip-" He finally says, cutting off his own thoughts with a voice that slips out as something of a low growl, singing his lips on the way out. "You stayed at the tavern longer than both Cain and I combined." He says, arching an eyebrow before letting it fall. "You've got balls." He glances at the cuts and gashes and bruises that litter his ally's form now, seeping red and black and everything in between as he moves towards him and pulls the bandages out from his bag, stretching what limited knowledge he had of healing out into something useful.
"We're alive." It's more convincing himself now, wrapping the bandages around a newfound gash in Kip's arm. "How are you both feeling?" He asks, gaze darting between Kip and Caine and the scars found between all three of them.