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Drake117's Significant Otter

Thirteenth Gatekeeper

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                                      The absence of the sound of a child's resting breath and the cheery call of an innocent proclamation of their arrival caused Lochesh to stir. He had only half-slept, as per usual, having genuinely resting for only a few brief hours before Kai's less than quiet announcement reached his ears. Rising to his elbows to peer over the edge of the bunk, he caught a faint glimpse of the tiny Chimera scuttling her way out of the room and down the hall, followed in a rather comically swift manner by the fair haired and skinned Apollo. The masked Chimera swung his legs over the edge of the bed and hopped lightly to the floor behind him, making sure to land loudly enough to be heard. Faintly glowing eyes studied his strange half walk and half run gait as Lochesh, too, strode into the hall and followed idly behind the pair. He made it a point not to allow the sound of Kai's footfalls escape his ears. Curious thoughts of what would have brought them to such an abrupt stop drifted lazily through his mind before settling on one of two logical possibilities: they had either indeed reached their destination, or the flying swine that had placed them on this ship hadn't given them the courtesy of a full fuel tank. Upon stepping outside and seeing no trace of the Grey Market, but instead what looked like the rest of the crew interrupting a party of some sort, he settled on the latter.

                                      The place they had landed in was much nicer than he would have expected, to say the least: a lush settled oasis in the middle of the desert. Bright eyes skimmed over the locals with mild suspicion, his gaze seemingly enough to keep them at a desirable distance. Lochesh could hear a few quiet murmurs about his mask, primarily about it's tough texture and mild curiosities about what may lie beneath it, and quietly shook his head. If these people expected him to remove his mask, they were bound to be disappointed, even if they were to invite him to a meal - which is what each of the locals seemed to be doing - they would find that he preferred to eat in private or not at all. As when he'd awoken, the presence of little Kai nearby broke his thoughts: this time with a perfectly innocent question. He stared at her for a moment, as if to question if there was one in particular she sought, before allowing his gloved hand to slide not to his usual card case but the inside of his jacket. He shuffled the cards with almost mesmerizing speed, eyes not straying from the young Chimera's as he did so. Plucking two cards - Justice and the Queen of Cups - and offering them to her with one hand, whilst the other fanned the deck wide for her to make her own choice. “Choose well,” His eerie whisper entreated, “And keep your card close to the two I offer.”

                                      As he waited to feel the cluster of cards in his hand move, he gave the group another careful look over. Something didn't feel right about this place, though he couldn't quite place his second or third tongue on just what that 'something' was. Kind strangers were a very rare thing in his life, and an entire settlement of them? What were the chances? His ears perked up at a female voice posing a question about Kai, causing him to turn his head ever so slightly to face her. He didn't bother to take in her appearance, favoring locking his gaze with hers in a silent judgment of her trustworthiness. “She is rarely alone.” The whispered words alone were cryptic, prompting him to add something more brotherly, so as not to confuse his meaning, “I wouldn't let her stray from my sight in a place like this; there's something very ill-meaning here.”

Aged Streaker

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                                                        “I swear this place wasn’t here the last time we passed it.” Desken looked around at the buildings, each of them seemed soundly constructed and worn as if they had been there for a while. “Maybe Ole Jeb will be of help.” He took a step forward only to feel a hand place itself firmly on his shoulder. Without thinking, he went for his gun but found the voice that came afterwards to calm his sudden impulse.
                                                        “Jackie,” he breathed out. “What is unsafe is coming up behind me.” He turned and glanced over his navigator. She was surprisingly without make up and her usual eye for aesthetic detail. Desken didn’t say anything though, he just kept a soft smile on his lips. “I can handle myself, darling, but I do appreciate the company.”

                                                        Maybe what Desken appreciated the most was another set of eyes looking this place over. Something didn’t feel right. There was a wrongness in the air that had been easily overlooked by most people. Of course there was the poignant smell of savory food, the general murmur of happiness, and the promise of unlimited drink. Such things could confuse anyone. Even Desken considered turning back and immersing himself in the revelry. Maybe after he procured some fuel.
                                                        “I agree, something feels off. Then again these are the Outlands, odd things happen. Remember that one town we went too that was filled with clones, because someone got a hold of pre-apocalypse genetic machinery? That was, interesting,” Desken said as he walked through the town. It looked no different than the many stops he had been to before. The houses were made out of whatever the villagers could scavenge, the road was an assortment of stones, metal, glass, or whatever smooth component that could be used to buffer foot from ground. What seemed out of place the most though were the sprouts of green between every crack and crevice. There was life here, and it contrasted starkly with the miles upon miles of desert. “The kid can take care of herself.” Desken remarked. “She isn’t a part of our crew, and while teamwork is keeping us from—dying—she isn’t our responsibility. The kid seems clever enough anyway.”

                                                        Ole Jeb’s shop stood about where Desken figured it would. The structure was less dilapidated than most, and had massive drums of fuel outside with a crude sign that read: “Steal the Fuel and You’ll be Lunch.”
                                                        “Really now?” Desken questioned. “Lunch does sound good, I haven’t eaten since before we decided to take on the circus troupe. Fuel first, though.”
                                                        Desken came around front and looked at the door. It was as worn as the rest of the shop but something seemed amiss. The way it swayed with the breeze implied it was not secured. And when he applied pressure to it, it became apparent that the door had been kicked open. Desken drew his gun and pushed through the threshold quickly. What he saw, though, was not what he expected. He had assumed Ole Jeb might be held captive, or that he wasn’t here and there were thieves everywhere. Of course he knew the latter wasn’t possible as the townsperson they had run into previously stated that Ole Jeb hadn’t been participating in the fun.
                                                        What Desken actually saw was a man hanging from the rafters, the rope secured underneath his arms. He was very much so dead, but the smell that lingered around him wasn’t at all putrid like rotting flesh but instead as savory as the smells that permeated this town. Ole Jeb had apparently been a portly fellow, and now he was deep fried and hanging above a drip pan in his own shop. Parts of him were missing, and there were decorated serving trays around him. It appeared like the loaded a piece of him up and then paraded it around like it was some sort of hors d'oeuvres.
                                                        Desken covered his nose and frowned. “Let’s let Cecil know that we’ve found gas, and let’s get everyone else out of here. Hopefully none of them have been too caught up in the ceremony yet, or have gotten peckish.” He sighed. “You were right Jackie, and I have an odd feeling this is only the tip of the crazy.”

Big Duck

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                          ▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀

                                      ◢ ↓ THERE'S SOMETHING BEHIND THESE ＷＡＬＬＳ SOMETHING UNDER THE ＳＨＥＥＴＳ
                                      xxx sohjing xxxTAKE A LITTLE TIME TO CONTEMPLATE: x WILL WE EVER SEE WHAT IT'S LIKE BEHIND THESE WALLS x AND ARE YOU STILL MOVING UP EVERY TIME YOU FALL




                                                  "Is everything okay?"

                                                  No, he wrinkled his nose in thought, I'm not okay.

                                                  But the moment passed and whatever plagued his thoughts went with it. "I'm doing fine."

                                                  "Good," the redhead laughed as he took a seat beside Apollo, who's expression was equally pleasant. His name was Rory--no last name or none that Apollo knew of--and he had dark, olive skin with burgundy markings that ran from his cheeks to his neck. He had vibrant green eyes--the color of rain forests--and violet lips, which he claimed were natural. He spoke with a slight accent--an accent that Apollo, try as hard as he did, could not place. Still, none of that seemed to matter--not the tribal markings, the purple lips, or the unfamiliar accent.

                                                  To be honest, nothing seemed to matter very much.

                                                  "So, are you going to drink that?" Rory eyed the glass in Apollo's hand, which was filled to the brim.

                                                  In answer, Apollo drank it all at once--sparing nothing. Turning the glass over, he set it onto the table, a smile gracing his features. "Sorry, did you want some?"

                                                  "Oh, I was just planning on have a taste"

                                                  Without any warning, the redhead leaned over and captured Apollo's lips with his. It was a short kiss--no more than twenty seconds, maybe thirty--but Apollo was losing himself to feelings he didn't know existed. It was like a fire that burned at the base of his stomach and it fanned out--moving wherever Rory touched him. And, much to Apollo's dismay, it ended all too soon. Suddenly, the fire was gone and everything felt colder, which was ridiculous because the heat was, moments earlier, absolutely unbearable. "Delicious." Rory grinned wolfishly at Apollo, absolutely unabashed for his actions. "Good wine."

                                                  "Pretty sure it was me that was delicious." There was a note of uncharacteristic challenge in Apollo's voice and Rory, who had always lived walking forward, happily accepted.

                                                  A part of Apollo's mind, a small and distant part, protested the actions. It wanted Apollo to stop--to leave the fire alone. It wanted Apollo to get up and run back to the ship and find Desken. It screamed for Apollo to find Desken and Apollo, annoyed by it, ignored it. He couldn't understand why he should leave. He liked being kissed by Rory. And he couldn't understand why his mind insisted on finding Desken--who cared what the grey-faced, green-eyed mutant was doing? Chances were, he reasoned, Desken was doing the same thing. He had seen the man engage in such activities more than once during his tenure with the Grey Lady and he had no desire--absolutely none--to witness it again. Or be brought in. He couldn't decide which was worse.

                                                  Still, the voice wouldn't stop yelling. It wouldn't quit and Apollo, annoyed and angry and confused, broke the kiss. He stood up, fists clenched, and disoriented--he didn't know why he had done that, but it seemed to have appeased the voice slightly.

                                                  "What's wrong?" Rory asked, concerned. "Should I have not kissed you?"

                                                  Yes.

                                                  "No," Apollo hissed. He couldn't make any sense with his thoughts--couldn't understand why his brain was fighting him on every little thing. Or why his brain was yelling again--yelling for him to look for Desken or Jackie or Mav or even Doc. "It's not you," he confessed as he took a seat again. His head was hurting and the world was still spinning oddly out of control. "It's just... I think I'm a little tired from traveling."

                                                  Yes, that sounded right. His mind was definitely sleep-deprived.

                                                  Still, the voice nagged at him. It insisted--with absolute certainty--that it was not because of a lack of sleep. And, to throw the proverbial cherry on top, it wanted Apollo to run as far and as he could because he was in grave danger. Grave danger, it repeated.

                                                  "Here, drink some more. It'll keep you hydrated." Rory handed Apollo another glass of juice--the contents also filled to the brim.

                                                  "Thanks."

                                                  The juice was sweet and delicious--it tasted nothing like normal alcohol, which was bitter and, oddly enough, slightly metallic in taste. And as he finished his seventh--or was it his eighth?--glass, Apollo sighed contentedly. That definitely did the trick. Clearly, he was dehydrated. "I feel better already. I mean, earlier, I had this crazy thought about"--he paused, his brows furrowing as he tried to remember exactly what he had been panicking about earlier--"something." He waved it away. Whatever it was, it couldn't have been very important.

                                                  Desken.

                                                  He blinked. He didn't know why his captain's face surfaced to mind or why it stared disapprovingly at him.

                                                  "Apollo?"

                                                  But, with Rory's voice, Desken's face vanished and, immediately, Apollo was back--surrounded by delicious aromas and no floating-faces. He could hear the music blaring in the background; its beat energetic and lively. It pulsed through the scene and Apollo felt restless. Maybe he would feel better if he wasn't sitting down. "You know, what? Let's dance!" He didn't wait for an answer before grabbing Rory's hands and dragging him onto the dance floor.

                                                  They melded into the crowd, which jumped and swayed with the beat. Everyone moved freely as if all of their troubles and worries were dashed away with the change of pace. He was finally somewhere nice--somewhere fun--and he was going to enjoy it whether or not imaginary-Desken approved. Plus, when did Apollo ever seek out Deksen's approval anyway? He was just a lowly mutant.

                                                  "I love this song!" Apollo yelled as the tune changed and the beat jumped. Of course, that was a lie. Until that moment, Apollo had never even heard the song before--Kodak? Time Square? Ne-Yo? He had no idea what the artist was talking about and he didn't care. It wasn't about the words. It was the beats. It was the flow. It was the intangible factor that made songs unbearably catchy. And Apollo lost himself in it. He threw caution to the wind and, at the first invitation, accepted.

                                                  This isn't right.

                                                  It was the voice again--back from the grave.

                                                  It was always the damned voice. But, this time, instead of letting it direct him or summon any random images of his mates, Apollo locked it out of his mind. He wasn't going to go back to the ship. He wasn't going to find Desken. And he sure as hell wasn't going to look for Doc--like, what would even possess him to do that?

                                                  The music changed again--the beat slowing almost to a crawl. And then--

                                                  "Mister World Wide!"

                                                  A bald, tanned man walked into view, standing at the stage that Apollo didn't even realize was there. He wore dark-tinted glasses that hid his eyes from view, but not the ear-to-ear grin. He had blindingly white teeth that gleamed as sunlight landed on them. He walked with a slow, confident gait and the crowd seemed to quiet in his presence--although the music, Apollo noted, did not. He raised his hands into the air, as if wanting to high-five the gods, before asking, in a lightly accented voice, "Nothing like the heat in Cartivillage, amirite?" The crowd answered with a roar of approval, some of party-goers stomping their foot. "And, oh mama, it looks like we have some beautiful guests, si?" He peered over his sunglasses and winked in the direction of said guests. "Mami chula.."

                                                  The crowd cheered again and, someone, somewhere, started chanting, "Queso pantalones!" Apollo had no idea what was being said, but it sounded nice--pleasant. He'll have to ask Rory what it meant later.

                                                  With his glasses resting securely on his face again, the man addressed the crowd, his energy infectiously dynamic. "And how do we like to welcome our guests, here in Cartivillage?"

                                                  "Served on a platter!" Someone shouted--it sounded like the guy who had started the chant.

                                                  "Drunk!" Another yelled, this time laughter followed.

                                                  The man at the front laughed as well--the sound rich and deep. Apollo didn't know who he was (did he introduce himself as "Mister Worldwide?"), but he didn't care. This guy made him feel good; he made him forget about everything. "Si, si, then why don't we get this party started?" He clapped his hands and a procession revealed itself. They carried a large silver sheet--plate, Apollo guessed--on their shoulders, their expressions hidden by masks. The plate was decorated with greens and fruits--all fresh, all ripe. But the most surprising thing, however, was not the size of the plate (or the fact that it only took four people to carry it), but the centerpiece: Doc.

                                                  Apollo blinked. He had to be seeing things. There was no way Doc was on the plate. This was just another trick--another illusion conjured by his tired mind. But something, perhaps the voice he had locked out, said he wasn't seeing things and the person tied up on the plate was, in fact, Doc. She wasn't wearing her usual rags and all the grim that usually covered her was suspiciously cleaned off--something he had never, personally, witnessed. She was dressed in a simple toga--beige, knotted cleanly at the shoulder. She was also gagged.

                                                  But before Apollo could move--take even a step closer to see if it was Doc--Rory was behind him, his arms circling around Apollo's waist. He was warm and strong--stronger than Apollo had originally believed. And even though he should feel fear--certainly the voice from before was screaming at the top of its lungs again--he stayed put, enjoying the warmth, the strength, and the scent of strawberries. It was a good feeling and he liked it and, honestly, if Doc was up there, it was probably because she had tried to kill someone. Or maybe she had actually killed someone. Either way, she was there because of her own mistakes.

                                                  "Tonight's entree!"

                                                  The crowd erupted into cheers and while the voice in his mind begged him to listen--to get a grip--Apollo stayed in Rory's arms, laughing and smiling with the rest of the party-goers. God, he loved it here.



                                                  xxx sohjing xxx dns thanks ▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀

                                                              xxx sohjing xxx sohjing xxxAND THIS WE LEARNED WE WOULD BE FREE
                                                              xxx sohjing xxxTAKE A LITTLE TIME TO CONTEMPLATE:A TRUTH THAT'S BEEN LOCKED IN WAY DOWN IN ME A TRUTH THAT'S BEEN LOCKED IN WAY DOWN IN ME

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                                                                              Oftentimes one expects a descent to be horrible and grimdark, a grimy twist of fate served up to the rancor of wretched hags and blimey men. Unfortunately - or perhaps fortunately - the Doc’s “descent” was the exact opposite. After running herself clean to the nickel of the whiskey offered to her by the townie, they served herself up with a proposition made with an eerie glint of their eye and a show of oddly fang-like teeth, “Well, what’s to it that a fine woman like you go out to our pub ‘ere in Cartivillage?” The Doc blinked, bemused by the question and the man’s particularly off phrasing. “Cartivillage? That’s what you can this oasis? How’s about Paradise? I’d like it then.” She smirked at her own gesture. “You’ve got more at that pub? This juice is better than my own sugar rum!” The man’s awful-looking grin only rose end to end as he casually took the Doc by the arm - not that he could really force the giantess hulk of a woman anywhere if she decided against it (which she didn’t), so it was more of a guiding aside. “This oasis is anything you’re willing to call it, love. But yes, we’ve many drinks! Come, come, allow me to show you.”

                                                                              The looks that shed across the other townie’s faces as the wispy man escorted her to the pub were not that of the typical scrunched disgust that the Doc often received with her rather standoffish visage - instead, it was that of a sort of droning smiling, as if sizing up a wonderful piece of pork. Of course, the Doc being in no way perceptive of her surroundings and what that could possibly mean, she shrugged it off as the townies being particularly happy amongst themselves and their rather large caches of food. “Y’know, I’ve heard of desert bandits out here in the oasis. I’ve gotten into a scuffle with those rat bastards plenty, but you guys? I think I’ll stay a while, yeah.” The wispy man’s pace rose until they reached the sandstone-formed pub with its wide entrance arch and cooly painted sign. “Oh, yes, love. Plenty of you folk stay for a while when you meet us. No bandits here, we assure you. Some of you even decide to come here forever! But, ah, where are my manners? I’m getting ahead of myself, aren’t I?”

                                                                              He moved from grasping at the length of her coat connected to her arm to her shoulder. “You’d want to do away with this, won’t you? Far too hot in the likes of this oasis for such fine yet thick coats ...” That was enough for the Doc to push him off, seemingly brought out of whatever trance she was in by the threat to her precious coat. “No. It stays on, you hear? I’ve got an attachment to it, all-right?” She stared at the wispy man and his lanky features with his sallow cheeks. For all he looked, he appeared dead. Or at least some faux impersonation of a vampire. His grin returned, and he latched on to her shoulder once again. “Ah, I’ve got you, love. No removal of your coat today, ah? We can suffice. But do not blame me if it becomes much too hot, a-ha!”

                                                                              His laugh was absolutely despicable, but yet the closure of it all brought some light back into the Doc’s face (her laughter was just as ugly, mind you.) He then made a whistle out to the rest of the pub-goers, to which he added “Ah! To the likes of you all, look what I’ve here! A wonderful and certainly up and tall woman whose locks shine that of the sands beneath us! Why, lovelies, I think we’ve got a real celebration candidate here!” The tinny music that they had playing stopped, and the rest of the pub-dwellers turned their thin necks right round to face the Doc with their beady, dull eyes. If it were anyone but the Doc, they would’ve looked like sharks aroused by the premonition of blood. “Celebration candidate?” One of them questioned, and then another. “Another celebration candidate! To the Party God!” Another wispy-like man cried in pure joy.

                                                                              “Hey, you, man whose face looks like a vampire, why’re they callin’ out to me like I’m some pissy saint?” The Doc asked of the man perched over her shoulder like some hawk, to which he eked out another of one of his disastrous laughs. Now, finally, this place was starting to really begin to sound at least a grade of twisted to the Doc, which was a damned achievement on the townie’s parts to ring the since cracked and barely operating warning bells of the Doc’s hollow shell of a mind. “Ah, love, your comedy is far too scarce! See, see, we pick a traveller such as yourself to be a celebration candidate every festival to the Party God - a mighty honor, you know - so we all may celebrate and toast to you, my love! We’re all so very happy for you. Now, didn’t you say you came for drinks?” He motioned for one of the women of the bar to bring out an entire brigade of thin and tall glasses filled with the strange concoction that she had tasted and adored earlier. As she eyed it up, she couldn’t help but to reach out and snag one of the glasses into her hands and mouth. “Well, yeahs, I s’pose I did,” she said in between sips and gulps. “Then drink to your heart’s content, love! Everything’s on the house for our great celebration candidate!”

                                                                              All that occurred after that trio of fateful drinks what but a blotch of black and blurred lights and colors for the Doc. She remembered beginning to dance amongst the other townies of the pub to some sort of archaic music with drums and sitars in the background, the chants and cheers of the townies that soon swarmed around her becoming one with the music. Her head felt as if it were lighter than air, her ability to focus on any one thing completely thrown out to the wind. Perhaps the worst part of her spiraling down into sheer nothingness was the fact that she couldn’t care less about how her head felt or why the townies were encircling her like wolves surrounding a lone, injured deer. If anything, the entire scenario made the whole situation seem surreal and a facet of a dream - and who was the Doc to reject a dream that could not harm her at all?

                                                                              At one point the swarm of townies closed in on her, picking apart her clothes and replacing it with something better. She liked it. The Doc was too far gone to even notice her own coat - the coat in which she had whether blades next to and had blood spattered upon countless times - meerily tossed out in some dank corner of the pub, presumably to be dealt with after the festival. They then, with one great song, put her up on her own throne, complete with a heavenly mouthpiece! Gods above, she was having so much fun! She couldn’t fathom the reasonings of why or how, only that the Party God certainly sounded like a deity worth believing in as the townies chanted along in a tongue that the Doc could no longer understand.

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                                            Benny grinned, a smile of a drunken Cheshire cat, as Charlie sauntered over. The clown looked surprisingly after-hours; the harpy loved it when she looked that way. Little sister (of sorts). Much cute. Smexxxxx. A sloppy kitty kiss. Something at the back of Benny’s mind felt a sigh of relief as Charlie snuggled in next to her, dislocating one of these disarmingly… enchanting women. The other part of her felt a small sting of regret, but it wasn’t like there was quite enough Benny for literally all the ladies to be propped upon her. Benny’s eyes continued to simmer their hellish crimson as she slid the edge of her heel along the chin of one of the women around her.

                                            Her brain felt a little soupy, like the thick sweetness of mashed sweet potatoes and melted brown sugar that could still burn your tongue. Before any of the ladies could so much as address Charlie’s question – a good question, indeed, come to think of it. Benny felt almost a bit pensive. What exactly was going on, here? Oh, yes. This liquor. Another gulp, and the sweet potato brain of hers melted into a creamy paste.

                                            Ahem. Before any of the ladies could so much as address what the ceremony could be, a bald, charismatic man took center stage upon a stage that Benny had not noticed before. The townsfolk hushed around her; the music continued, like little men cranking gears in her head. Benny felt the women’s attention shift from her to this Mister World Wide, which she noted somewhat resentfully. But while this World Wide fellow was no Beelzebub – much more garish - he did, strangely, possess a similar spellbinding magnetism. Benny felt nearly… nostalgic, a sentiment rather alien to her, little chocolate chips in her sweet potato mush brain. Ah, and now, an ancient language. Beelzebub was also a fan of the ancient languages… he’d probably know what this was, Benny mused to herself offhandedly. She hadn’t thought about the old troupe master in a while. She found herself hungry. Very… hungry. Why? She took another gulp of her glass. It occurred to her that her glass had never been empty during the last chunk of these festivites. How much time had since transpired…?

                                            Oh, but now she felt good. And she felt, strangely, quite excited to see this ceremony play out, though she had little way of knowing exactly what it was. Perhaps it was the momentum of the energy and excitement of the native folk around her. It was the same sort of momentum that brought them into this land, unthinkingly, and what now kept them unthinking. Ah, yes, there was Doc, all tied up and lookin’… delicious. Not that Benny usually went for the tall and gangly types, preferring boobs, but there were perks of lean meat, said her sweet mashed potato brain.

                                            When the crowd pulsed towards the giant platter, set down on the main circular table – raised upon a platform, with two rings of benches/steps around it – Benny found herself by the woman’s side. “Hullo, Doc,” she purred.

                                            “Maaah maaah murrrrr,” the woman made out through her gag, which held her mouth firmly at a perpetual half-grin. She was drooling, her eyes glazed and twitching.

                                            “Looking quite lovely.”

                                            “Yeeru sooooup swum.”

                                            Around them, the desert-island folk had already gathered, impatiently chanting and stamping something. Benny wasn’t paying much attention. She leaned in a took a sniff, to the approving laugh of a couple of the natives around her. And then, she licked Doc’s cheek, running it close to her lower lashes. The woman squirmed a bit and shut an eye, but as with before, gave no intelligible response.

                                            “Wasn’t the phrase, back then, an eye for an eye?” the harpy murmured softly, taking a mauve nail and running it across Doc’s eyelid.

                                            “Will you do the honors, o’ Party God?” a man cried, holding up a wicked knife the shape of a very fat lightning bolt. A very sharp butchering knife with style.

                                            “Of course, my man,” boomed Mistah World Wide, appearing suddenly in the midst at a pedestal, a place of honor. How did he keep finding these elevated platforms to stand on?

Spoopy Anubutt

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                                                              Jackie had honestly felt bad for startling her captain, considering the tense atmosphere floating around the air it was best to avoid any sudden movements for fear of being stabbed, shot or even maimed. Turning her eyes to her dark companion she gave the man a gentle smile, and ran her fingers along her hair, “My apologies for startling you my love.”, grazing her eyes across the small village. She took in the make of the buildings and built her lip, they where run down, full of holes and most certainly not a pleasant sight. They should not stay to long for fear of being pillaged of all their goods, a ship like theirs would be worth a pretty penny for folks who have next to nothing. Retuning her attention to Desken as he reminisced about a community they had once visited, she couldn't help but allow a laugh to escape her gut as she placed a hand to her flat tummy, “Oh I certainly do remember that! I swear if we stayed any longer there would have been clones of ourselves! We all know we don't need a copy of Doc or even little Apollo.”. Stepping closer to her captain, she placed an arm to his waist as we walked at she fluttered her eyes mischievously at him as she enjoyed their rather tense stroll; “Mind you...I wouldn't mind another copy of you, love.”. Thinking back to little Kai, she bit her lip in concern before running her lip along the dry bit of flesh and looked back towards the direction of the ship. She could still see them from here, and the cheerful sounds of partying that took place on their ship at their arrival. She wanted to go back, to keep an eye on things, it was important for at least one person on the ship to be sober who wasn't under aged. As of now, that appeared to be herself and Desken, at least the two of them where reliable but Jackie didn't have her weapons on her at the present time, and if she needed them she would be of no use to Desken if they happen to come under fire.

                                                              The two of them had finally come to the fuel station that they had been looking for and her eyes had fallen on to the sign. Running her eyes over it, Jackie shuddered uncomfortably, however Desken appeared to be light hearted about the predicament. “As much as I to would love a meal...It would do us well to wait until we where out of here to do so.”, placing a hand delicately to the wall of the building, Jackie looked inside and scanned around the building. A smell, was wafting from the building, it almost spelled like cooked pork. Following behind her captain, she scanned the area with curious eyes until her gaze had fallen on to the hanging carcase of a dead man. Staring up at it with wide eyes, she stepped closer to the corpse and placed her finger tips to the dead man's flesh. The texture was that of cooked meat and she wrenched her hand away and took a few steps back and placed a hand to her mouth. Turning away, the young woman placed a hand to the wall and heaved, trying her hardest to prevent herself from throwing up but failed. Her stomach emptied the rest of its contents on to the floor as she finished off with a few dry heaves. These people where eating this man! Pulling a handkerchief out of her pocket, she whipped her mouth and placed a hand to her forehead and shuddered. She didn't want to turn around and look at the man again, but she didn't feel like she'd throw up again now that her stomach was empty. Looking from the corner of her eye as she turned her body a little to the right, she peeked at the eaten corpse and took in a slow and deep breath. Jackie didn't have as strong a stomach as she thought she had, placing a hand over her mouth. She composed herself and looked to Desken with pleading Hazel orbs “They where eating him...”, her phrase had paused once she had gagged once more and stumbled towards the door and stuck her head out for the fresh air before shuddering and whipping the tears from her gags from her eyes. “We need to leave...we need to get what we came for and leave.”, turning around with wide, frantic eyes she searched frantically for any barrel she could find that had the fuel that they required to escape this hell hole.

                                                              “This is horrible, Desken...we need to leave before something happens to the crew.”, being the navigator this would be on Jackie`s head and heart if anyone in the troupe had died. Thinking about seeing harm come to any of the crew members pulled at her heart strings, being eaten was no way to go and she didn't wanna see that happen to anyone. Even if she didn't get along with some of them well on occasion, cannibalization was not what she had in mind. A village such as this which had nothing but a small oasis to sustain itself couldn't possibly have the food necessary to survive. Now she knew why something didn't feel right about the village, they where eating whomever came to pass if they where willing to do this to their own kin. Pushing barrels towards the door in a panic, she rushed over to Desken and grasped his hand, panic glistening in her hazel eyes. “Please lets leave, if we stay we will end up the next meal!”, the red heads heart raced with fear at the mere idea of becoming someone's meal. Releasing Desken she placed her hands to her head and turned away from him, her mind and heart distraught; “What have I done...why here, why here of all places....”. Her voice was but a low whisper at this point as she took in hard deep breaths to calm herself. How was everyone on the ship doing? Where they okay? Where the safe? Had anyone fallen victim to the horror that they where seeing? Was Desken not distressed by the sight they had witnessed? Jackie had seen many dead bodies in her short life but never had she ever witnessed cannibalism, this was something her poor little hub-dweller mind could not handle. The barbarism of the situation was just too much for the woman to handle.

                                                              Stepping away from Desken, she rushed out of the rickety building as it creaked in the wind. Looking out into the village, the streets where still empty as she slid herself down the alley to escape the smell and the sight, there was no way she would be able to handle this place. Coming to the back of the building, the woman's feet pressed into the sand, however a hand crunch has echoed beneath her boot heel. Looking down, a bone had caught her eye as she glanced up to see a pile of rib-cages, skulls and an assortment of other bones stacked atop one another. However, most of these bones where beached white from the sun, and only a few had a light pink hue or ivory tone to them. Some of these bones where still a little fresh, “We have ventured in to the depths of hell itself...”, pressing her lips together in a fine line, she took a few steps back and placed her hand to her mouth once more and turned her back to the pile. These people, where probably a compilation of other pilots, crews and even villagers who had met the same fate as the man within the building, she just knew it. “We need to leave...”, keeping her eyes to the ground, her tongue moistened her lips once more as she crossed her harms across her body to contain herself as she turned her eyes from the ground to the sky. She wasn't going to let the crew befall such a fate because they where stupid enough to venture towards this hell hole.

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                                                { LOCATION ❜ / /Among the groovesxxxxx { COMPANY ❜/ / - - ? xxxxx { MOOD ❜ / / Unusualxxxxx { HEALTH ❜ / / 100%

                                                With a flourished wave, dainty fingers hovered along the splayed deck of cards, her motions smooth as she wavered back and forth. A sudden halt, an abrupt pinch at the tip of a card, Kai snapped it with a seamless draw, pulling it from the collection as she peered down at her catch. The Ace of Swords. Sending a scarlet painted glance up through a thick fringe of pale blond, the Chimera gave one of her whimsical grins, sweetened by the eagerness of the action. "She's hoping for a Gambit Roulette this time."

                                                Dawdling off with the grace of a feline, it was too easy to be absorbed in the ebb and flow of this world. The glamour, in Kai's eyes, that had been translated through exotic mystique and eccentric appeal. Seemingly less interesting than her plumper companions to their ambitious hosts, the Chimera had wandered into the very depths of the excitement; and even further. Her steps took her seemingly twirling away, carried on by an invisible thread that coaxed her with a gentle tug to her pinkie finger. Further and further away until it seemed the musical pulse of the bass seemed to be a dull afterthought to the encumbering silence of an abandoned town-- they were, after all, partying the day away.

                                                Didn't make it far. A sudden hand from no where grasped her tight around the wrist, spinning her to bump into the chest of a boy no older than herself. Scarlet hues meeting amber pools, Kai gave a curious blink towards the red head grinning down towards her. "Hi." One didn't need to be drugged to get swept away in a flurry of sensations like Kai did, little creature like herself at the mercy of freshly blossoming hormones. Every inch of her soul screamed to drag him off towards the ship with her, where, in the depths of her room, she could lay out every piece of salvaged trinkets and bobbles--- except they were all gone. Maybe she could simply stand him in a corner, red gaze glued as she imagined herself teetering between utter discomfort and inexplicable elation.

                                                "You're new, huh? Didja come off that ship?" For a creature of impulse and whimsy, the Chimera found herself in the claws of social ineptitude. Speechless. Though, she barely managed a meek nod of her head, snapping her chin up and down like a predictable bobble head. "Adults doin' borin' stuff, amirite? C'mon!" Lead away to the cozy interior of a quaint home, Kai hadn't wandered far into a den, eyes eager to absorb the fine details of decor, before she felt the male's presence back upon her. Very close, it was eerie. "You're pretty." Tossing an inquisitive gaze over her shoulder, the male had leaned down, breath on her neck that only served to pull goosebumps across her skin. Hairs bristling, the Chimera tensed as palms rolled down either sides of her shoulders before one hand hooked at a dainty wrist.

                                                Even sloppy mimicry would do well on someone that hadn't any idea what was coming. Arm awkwardly lifted towards his face, Kai felt a flush heat her cheeks; perhaps chivalry had yet to die out here. But as he drew back his upper lip, rows of sharp teeth revealed, the Chimera was too busy staring awestruck by the glory of each finely filed tooth to pull back in time before the chomp. A shriek wrenched up from her throat, Kai snapped away with a yank, bumping against the wall that had her effectively cornered.

                                                "Wow, you're doing that all wrong, Calcifer."

                                                A new character to the story: Sultry and arrogant, Lilith wore a smirk as she stared down the male, judging every piece of him. "You didn't give her anything to drink, did you? My daddy makes sure I do it right every time." Boastful, snide tones had the red head rolling his eyes at her before turning back towards his victim. "Don't matter, we'll just do it the other way!" Back pressed against the wall, inching and scrambling as if Kai could meld into the barrier, it was doing her no good as the pair of teenagers prowled closer. That wild look in their eye, predators just about to pounce upon prey. It was a certain lack of humanity, that spark of empathy that was utterly gone, that had the Chimera panicked. Nursing a bloodied hand would do little good here, and as the space between herself and the savages slowly dissipated step by step, Kai frantically patted herself for her pockets.

                                                Queen of Cups. Twisting it between her fingertips, the card itself sparked as the glow within it activated at her touch. Unstable touch. As Calcifer launched into her range, deft fingers pegged the card right on his chest, sudden snapping arc of electricity as it fused past fabric and into his skin with a hiss. Hotter and hotter, even the female pursuer had taken pause, golden eyes widened and peeled upon Calcifer's form as he staggered and screamed. Hot, hot, hot. The putrid stench of burning flesh came with every desperate pant, claws groping to pull the force of heat away, but it did little good as flame erupted across his skin.

                                                Staggered run, a hazed blur had come over her, which Kai had vaguely remembered was the sun. Back outside, she was a flurry of motion, pain clawing up out of her hand and twisting hot tears from her eyes. Back onto the ship was her immediate goal, salvation to be found beneath the heavy blankets of her cot,.. but she slammed into a pair of legs instead. Tear-stricken gaze sliding up to find the image of ghastly greyed skin, eerie blue irises paired with black sclera, Kai recognized the features as one of the problematic pirates that had shared her vessel. Even without knowing him, Desken was a vast improvement to her earlier company and eager arms attached to his hip. "She wants to go! She wants to go!"

Drake117's Significant Otter

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                                Where had he gotten himself to? Maverick blinked, eyes regaining their usual brightness as he took in the festivities around him. He moved in attempt to sit up more properly, only to find his arms and legs pinned down by the weight of the two women resting on him. Instinctively, he flashed them a cheeky smile and ran a claw lightly over the backs of their necks; internally, however, his mind was riddled with fog and questions. He could vaguely remember patching up his wounds from the earlier fight and waking up to the ship being stopped, he could also remember these two particular women tugging him away from the back of the group and offering him a drink... everything was foggy after that. They must have slipped something in his drink, something strong at that; he only hoped they'd enjoyed themselves while he was loopy and unfit to cause any real trouble. One of the women held something just within reach of his mouth, something small on an equally tiny skewer, which he coiled his tongue around and pulled into his mouth before giving both of them a light tap on the small of the back.

                                “Sorry, loves, I need a minute,” The two protested sweetly, but rose to allow him to move, running the tips of their fingers over the back of his wings as they settled properly around his shoulders. “I'll be back for you both, promise.” With a wink, he slipped away from the pair in search of a slightly more familiar face. While it wasn't overly unusual for Maverick to wake up in the company of strange women, something about being slipped any sort of drug first ruined the amusement that usually followed. Realizing he still had that piece of whatever-it-was in his mouth, he lightly bit down on it; no sense in letting it go to waste. He blinked as a strange, salty and unfamiliar taste swarmed through his mouth. Maverick had eaten his fare share of strange foods, including the flying fish he'd taunted the other blond with, but this tasted almost like a little bit of everything. Frowning, he plucked another couple of small skewers as he walked, idly nibbling at the whatever-it-was and trying to unravel it's secrets.

                                Sensitive ears began to pick up undertones of strange chanting amid the blaring music, bright eyes finally caught sight of a familiar face: Apollo in the arms of some man. The apparent man of the hour - some self proclaimed 'Mister World Wide' - made his appearance shortly beforehand, seemingly energizing the group even more. The winged mutant continued to weave his his way through the crowd until he reached the man holding his fellow crew member. The muddled nature of his thoughts began to clear as he chomped on the final piece of whatever-it-was he was carrying, telling him that this wasn't a favorable situation at all. Everything began to mentally click into place as he maneuvered his way behind the man holding Apollo: the town's name, the way they supposedly welcomed their guests, the odd saltiness of this whatever-it-was that he'd now had at least five small pieces of. Maverick tapped the man on the shoulder with a toothy, fanged smirk.

                                “That's a lovely man you have there. Mind if I cut in?” Without warning, he jabbed the man in the side, causing him to lose his grip on his crew mate. The man had managed to windmill his arms, however, knocking Maverick into Apollo's back and sending them both staggering forward to the table. The pair not only landed against the surface in a compromising and rather suggestive manner, but it also gave them both a clear view of the platter resting in the center of the table. His eyes widened, though he continued to chew the last piece of something resting in his mouth and swallow it in shock. He glanced at the content and glazed look in Apollo's eyes, back to the table, and back again. “Time to wake up, pretty boy.” He murmured, leaning just close enough to the blond's ear to run his tongue over it. Maverick hoped to pry the loudest, girliest scream possible from the other male - something he was fairly certain would draw Desken's attention from wherever he'd gotten to - and what better way to pull such a thing than to lick the ear of a Hubdweller whilst he was in such a compromising position with a mutant? His tail flicked in contemplation as his hand drifted toward where Chaos was holstered.

                                For once, I need you to be loud and obnoxious, he thought bitterly, There are way too many drooling face-eaters here to fight. Maverick's jaw began to tense around his smirk, preparing to give the party all the hassle he could, and attempting to bar from his thoughts that what he'd already snacked on may very well have made him a drooling face-eater as well.

Big Duck

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                          ▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀

                                      ◢ ↓ THERE'S SOMETHING BEHIND THESE ＷＡＬＬＳ SOMETHING UNDER THE ＳＨＥＥＴＳ
                                      xxx sohjing xxxTAKE A LITTLE TIME TO CONTEMPLATE: x WILL WE EVER SEE WHAT IT'S LIKE BEHIND THESE WALLS x AND ARE YOU STILL MOVING UP EVERY TIME YOU FALL




                                                  The crowd's attitude was infectious in its happiness and Apollo was finding it hard to resist.

                                                  Not that he tried very hard to resist. Not that he was even aware of the fact that he should resist.

                                                  And the voice that was usually shrill and kill-joy-ing was strangely absent. Gone. Vanished. It might have been because Apollo, for better or for worse, had finally learned how to cast it into oblivion, leaving it in the wilderness to die. Or maybe it was tired—tired of yelling, tired of shouting to be heard by a man who didn't want to listen. Either way, he was drinking, laughing, and cheering as the ceremony continued. He had even forgotten the small (or, perhaps, not so small) fact that Doc was being served.

                                                  "Apollo"—even in the din of the crowd, Rory's voice was like some sort of audio beacon and Apollo gravitated towards it, utterly drawn to it like moths to fire—"Do you want to—"

                                                  "That's a lovely man you have there. Mind if I cut in?”.

                                                  He never learned what Rory wanted because, in the next second, he was stumbling forward, tripping into limbs and gravity. They landed near the front, but Apollo didn't immediately register the proximity towards the stage. Actually, he didn't register much of anything other than the weight pressing onto him. He stared upwards, still trapped between two strong arms, surprised to discover who it was.

                                                  "Mav," he whispered, a tiny smile toying with the corners of his lips. Twisting slightly, he managed to run his hand through the other man's hair—it was soft or softer than expected and the strands, like pieces of ribbon, wrapped and fell through his fingers. In the sunlight, every black strand caught hues of brown. His fingers traveled up to the horns, tracing their shape with awe and wonder.

                                                  He couldn't remember why he had ever disliked the man.

                                                  "Time to wake up, pretty boy.”

                                                  And then Mav licked him.

                                                  In any other world, Apollo would have beaten Mav silly; he would have seen to it that the mutant was little more than pools of blood and guts and bones. In this world—and only in this world—Apollo moaned; his eyelids fluttering close. He wasn't even discreet about it, as if all inhibition had been cast into the blurry darkness of the abyss. Arching his back and pressing himself closer towards the other man, Apollo only stared back with half-lidded eyes, friendly smile turning feral.

                                                  "Oh, if you keep doing that something will wake up," he purred in invitation. Snaking his arm around the winged-man's neck, he pulled him into a bruising kiss. He had already forgotten about Rory, the charming redhead with the purple lips. He forgot about the crowd—the crowd that surrounded them, still chanting, still cheering. He forgot about everything and everyone except for the man in front of him and the fact that his lips tasted like the sweetest happiness.

                                                  He could drown in this kind of happiness. He really, really could.



                                                  xxx sohjing xxx dns thanks ▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀

                                                              xxx sohjing xxx sohjing xxxAND THIS WE LEARNED WE WOULD BE FREE
                                                              xxx sohjing xxxTAKE A LITTLE TIME TO CONTEMPLATE:A TRUTH THAT'S BEEN LOCKED IN WAY DOWN IN ME A TRUTH THAT'S BEEN LOCKED IN WAY DOWN IN ME

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                                                        Desken sadly watched Jackie retch. It only added to the nauseating fumigation that the room provided. The captain sighed deeply and procured a handkerchief for his navigator. This sight was horrific, he agreed, but he had time later to be mortified by it. For now they needed to save the crew, get fueled up, and then leave this place behind. “Don’t worry m’dear Jackie, we are leaving now.” He said as he followed her out. Unfortunately her steps led them to the back of the building. There were so many desiccated carcasses they were uncountable. He wondered why they needed to eat people if they were in this lush oasis. Shouldn’t they be able to grow crops? Then again, personal tastes were personal tastes. That was a subject that Desken knew well.
                                                        “Come on,” Desken said as he began to walk away. “We need to get Cecil to get the fuel loaded up on the ship, and then we need to find the others.”

                                                        The trip back to the ship was a fast one. The captain ran up the ramp and into the cockpit. Cecil was still in the pilot’s chair, his chin cupped in his hands as he watched the goings-on. He seemed enraptured by debauchery that was presented.
                                                        “Cecil,” Desken barked.
                                                        The leoprine mutant shot up in his chair and looked over to his captain. He immediately began vibrating in a fashion that portrayed his utter and complete fear. “Yes-s, sir?”
                                                        “We found the fuel at the edge of town at a place called Ole Jeb’s. Take the ship there and use the automated fuel hose to extract it. Then return here as soon as you are finished—no dallying.”
                                                        “How much should I take?”
                                                        “All of it.”
                                                        “Are you sure?”
                                                        “Believe me Cecil, this wasn’t at all what it seemed to be. This is why I don’t want you on foot out there, or anyone else aboard the ship. Call a code red and have everyone at their stations.”
                                                        “W-what is going on out there?”
                                                        “Cannibals,” was all Desken said as he turned and marched out of the helm. That seemed to strike a firm enough note with Cecil because the ramp folded into the ship as soon as Desken took the last step off of it. The Narcissus then quickly peeled off to gather the fuel.

                                                        “Hopefully that shouldn’t take too long as long as the drums are filled.” Desken looked over Jackie and then to the party that was going on. Some townsperson meandered towards them, drink in hand. Before they were close enough to speak, Desken decked them with his metallic arm. They crumpled and the glass smashed against the ground. No one else seemed to notice or care that their comrade was currently unconscious. If anything the noise around the sleeping man only became more riotous.
                                                        He looked around about that time, he could spot most of the crew in a single glance. Most of them were beyond their sensibilities. Maybe his gaze lingered a bit too long on Mav and Apollo. “So that is what men you like, well, guess that makes sense,” Desken grumbled under his breath. That agitation was only momentary as he then saw something that frightened him beyond his wits: Doc tied up like some festival genetically-altered-Turkey.
                                                        “Jackie, it looks like our wonderful Doc is next. We need to save her, but I don’t think we can get through this crowd in enough time. So I need you to sneak over there while I cause a distraction.” Desken drew his pistol and handed it to her. “For protection, and don’t worry I still have plenty of weapons on me.”

                                                        Jackie disappeared into the crowd about the same time that Kai appeared. The small girl bumped into his leg, and he looked down at her. At first Desken scowled but it slowly broke into a sympathetic frown. “That is exactly what we are doing my sweetling. Unfortunately we need to save our friends first.” The penny-scented smell of blood hit him and he saw that the poor girl was bleeding. Without another thought he scooped her up and set her rather gently on his shoulder. Desken was strong, and that was usually forgotten underneath his genteel dress and manner. “You should be safe here.” He looped his arm over her legs to secure her to him as he brought up his mechanical arm. He had one shot in it, along with piston-powered grappling hook. Desken needed to get inventive—and fast. Maybe it had been a bad idea to send Jackie with his gun, but he was a bit afraid of what would happen when she got to Doc.
                                                        Right, he needed to divert attention away from that entire fiasco.
                                                        The man standing center stage seeming to conduct this entire affair, was probably the most prime of targets. “Cover your ears sweetling, this will be loud.” Desken pointed his mechanic arm in the direction of the odd bald fellow and released his shot. It wasn’t fatal, but the way that blood blossomed from the man’s abdomen—it would be if it went untreated.
                                                        The air shifted immediately, and no longer was the siren song to dance along and have a merry time. It had turned dark and foreboding. Attention began to divert from Doc and towards Desken. Yet it didn’t stay there, the ferocity seemed to turn inwards as well. The captain had a weird feeling that the crazy cannibal colonists were having a hard time discerning who was food and who wasn’t.

Drake117's Significant Otter

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                                Things hadn't gone as planned. They hadn't gone as planned at all. In fact, they spun in a wildly different direction than he could have possibly guessed, causing his hand to fall away from Chaos' grip. The ruffling of his hair he hadn't minded so much, but the delicate tracing of his horns had caused his tail to freeze mid-sway. He was still lost in whatever little fantasy world had taken him; the Apollo he knew would sooner have tried to mule kick him into the crowd behind them then so much as lay a hand on any of his 'disgusting and abhorrent' mutations. The moan he earned in response instead of the anticipated womanly scream caused him to stare for a moment in confusion, giving the blond all the time he needed to sharply pull him downward. Lips crashed together with virgin clumsiness, nearly causing his fangs to slice into the inside of his mouth. Oh, Maverick was going to make absolutely certain that he remembered this, and that little proud Apollo wouldn't be able to forget. The mutant felt himself smirk slightly against the usually mutant-fearing man's brazen advances; if he wanted to play, he'd be more than happy to oblige - if for no other reason than to have it haunt his darkest dreams at night. His tongue snaked it's way into the other man's mouth, tracing intricate designs as his claws tangled themselves into the blond's hair. He counted a few tentative seconds before he withdrew, dragging his fangs lightly over the other's lip and still maintaining a tight hold on his head.

                                “My, my...” He purred, “I didn't think proud little angels dared to dance with the devil.” His tail slid along the other male's belt before darting upward under his shirt, followed by a claw along his stomach. He grinned, knowing he'd left a shallow scratch, before snaking his tail back out into the open. Again, his free hand slid to his holstered revolvers, again coiling tightly around Chaos' grip. “As much as I'd love to continue this, Polly dear, we need to ditch this crowd first, wouldn't you agree?” He stretched his wings, attempting to gauge whether or not he'd be able to lift his fellow crew member and just how far he could carry him if he did. Electric blue eyes locked on those of his befuddled companion, issuing him a small wink and a mischievous grin. “You might want to hold on. Wouldn't want to drop you.” He shifted his grip from the male's hair to wrapping his arm around his lower back. As a raucous sound - that he knew all too well as a shot being fired from Desken's arm - shattered the festivities, Maverick gave his wings a hearty flap to lift both himself and Apollo from the ground.

                                Surprisingly, the little Hubdweller was quite a bit lighter than he'd thought, allowing him to fully draw Chaos and pull back it's hammer with ease. The weapon began to crackle loudly as its tesla mod roared to life, threatening to painfully shock anyone - and anyone near anyone - that he settled his sights on. Maverick took things in quickly: Mister World Wide was bleeding from the stomach, the music had stopped, and things were starting to very quickly turn ravenous around them. He thought he could see the figure of Desken a short distance away.

                                “This party's terrible.” He called mockingly, firing a shot into a group of growling cannibals on either side of the table, attempting to make it easier for the others to reach the bound Doc, “Still moving food, warm drinks... and the only thing to successfully hit on me usually hates my guts.” He licked the back of the blond's ear and fired a third shot at the redhead he'd jabbed earlier, just on principle, hoping the others would be able to take the opening he was trying to make.

                                He leaned next to Apollo's ear, taking aim for a fourth charged shot around the angles of his face, and murmured quietly. “Polly, as much as I'm enjoying the turn things have taken - and really, I am - I need you to stop blissing for maybe five minutes or so. You can go right back to it after, if you want, but I need those five minutes of normal.”

Spoopy Anubutt

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                                                              Gazing at Desken with worried eyes, the red head took the gun from her superior and placed a quick peck to his cheek after whipping her mouth with the handkerchief he had given her. Gripping the handle of the gun he had giver her, she slid a hand into her boot and took her dagger Ivory out of a compartment and ran off. Ducking down behind the buildings as she inched her way towards the predicament, the large ship that had been given to them had raised into the sky and slowly started to make its way into the direction that they had come. Bitting her lip, she watched from the shadows, tucked down behind some barrels, an arm keeping her breasts out of the way so that she could see. The crowd was looking up at the ship as it appeared to be moving away,only to be distracted by the sound of a gun which had taken out their 'party god'. Hazel eyes scanned the environment as she noticed Mav and Apollo making out in the middle of all the ruckus, for the most part they where completely ignored since the two of them presently had nothing to do with the situation. A smirk came over Jackie's face momentarily, she would never let Apollo live this down. Hold in the gun that Desken had given her tight in her right hand, her fingers of her left massaged the hilt of her eight inch dagger Ivory in the other and she took in a slow and shallow breath. The woman worked hard to calm her mind before running into the storm. Jackie's eyes had fallen on an unconscious Doc who was sprawled out across a table, flat on her back. The woman looked quite serene where she was but she knew quite well it was either drugs or alchohol that had brought her to such a state. Alchohol was an unlikely option since Doc could drink a sea's worth of booze and still take out countless enemies. As for Apollo, it has to be a drug to have him act such a way, but she had never seen the young man behave this way before. This was a strange predicament and she wasn't sure how she would gather all her allies for assistance. Jackie, felt that she was alone for this one, however the thick whoosh of wind had caught her ears as she saw her winged companion Maverick spread his wings and soar into the sky with Apollo in hand. The poor boy was completely out of it, and most of the crew would be or quite some time. A broad smile had come across Jackie's face, so her and Desken and Kai weren't the only coherent ones present which gave her a sense of comfort. As the crowd cleared, the dead dropping to the floor with every bullet, Jackie took in a deep breath and dashed forward.

                                                              Booted feet thumbed against the dirty soil as Jackie ran forward, weapons in hand as she shot at the enemies that had approached. Despite many being distracted and running amok in attempts to get away from the attack a few brave ones had stayed behind to defend their 'party god'. She wanted to make a comment about Maverick making out with the poor boy but now wasn't the time, and he was at least providing assistance as opposed to goofing around. that was at least one good thing about Maverick; despite his antics he was always reliable. A relatively large man had stepped forward to grab hold of the woman as she ran, ducking her head, she turned her body quickly around to the left as she dug the blade of her dagger deep into the ribs of the larger man and pulled the blade out as she continued to run. Reaching Doc, the Jackie placed her hands to the passed out woman, gripping her collar and shook her hard, "Doc! Wake up woman!", shaking her again, Jackie placed her gun down and gave the woman a slap across the face to see if would awaken the woman...to no avail. Raising her eyes from her partner, another individual had rushed at her as she reached for her gun, holding the weapon out to the individual, she gazed at them with furious intent a dark scowl plastered onto her face as she pulled the trigger, and passed right through the skull of the man that came at her. Grinning to herself, the woman stepped back around to look at Doc however the very turn she made caused her to come into contact with the sharp blade that penetrated itself deep into her stomach. How could she be so clumsy? So foolish and over confident? Gritting her teeth in agony, she looked to the owner of the blade, and it was the man that Desken had shot previously, using his elbow as support on the table while he gripped his abdomen, his free hand grasping the blade that had buried itself into her gut to the hilt. Placing her hand to the blade as she took a step back and looking down at her hand in shock. Her eyes returned to the man and her eyes raged with fury and adrenaline pumped into her veins. Gritting her teeth into a snarl the woman let out a deep rumbling grown from the center of her throat and slashed ivory across the man's face. The blade left a deep gash across his face, his right eye dangling from his socket as it appeared that his nose and mouth had been completely sliced open. Grabbing the mans head, she slit his throat, blood squirting onto her breasts and chest and she let out a grumbly cackle as she pulled him forward, stabbing into his face with her dagger before pushing him aside.

                                                              Grasping onto Doc, the woman's blurred, adrenaline filled vision looked down at her companion. She wanted to pull out the blade, but if she did she knew she would bleed out and removing a blade without medical assistance was a dangerous thing to do. Placing a hand around the base of the hilt and pressing it to her skin, she hissed at the pain before holding on to her partner after whipping the blood on to her pant leg and forced the woman into her arms. Curling her arms around the woman's shoulders with her elbows she proceeded to drag the unconscious woman away form the scene. Doc was much heavier than Jackie had estimated, struggling with her attempts to drag the woman her elbow and the other woman's body on occasion brushed against the blade protruding from her body causing her to pause in her steps and hiss every time it occurred. Looking up from her partner and behind her, she released one of Docs shoulders and extended her hand as an enemy approached and shot the woman who came at her with a a wooden board and nails. These people had to make makeshift weapons due to the location of their village and only a few truly seemed to have any genuine weapons at all. Half way through the scene of the crime, Jackie fell backwards as the adrenaline started to leave her body and the pain in her gut increased. Tears formed in the woman's eyes as she tried her hardest to keep herself from showing weakness, it was shameful. Sitting herself up on her elbows, she pushed Doc off of her and sat herself up onto her knee's, placing one foot onto the ground. She grabbed hold of the woman's arms and continued to drag her out of the scene. Returning to the barrels she hid behind, she dropped Docs arms beside the barrels and fell to her knees and dropped her weapons and placed her hands around the wound and took in a deep breath to try and soothe herself from the pain and looked up to the sky. Turning her head around it appeared her little dilemma had caught the eye of a few more people ans she forced herself to her feet, and quickly tried to pull Doc behind the barrels and sat her against the wall as she acquired her dagger and Desken's gun, shooting one of the people in the shoulder as two others approached. Lunging forward, she slashed her weapon into the chest of a woman, blood coming from the flesh of her breasts as she whipped around to shoot the man coming to her right, however only hitting his shoulder. Going to pull the trigger once more, the gun clicked completely out of ammo and she sweared quietly to herself and discarded her weapon by the unconscious Doc and switched her dagger into her other hand.

                                                              As the two approached, looking at the two people before her she backed up slowly with her dagger out before her and bit her lip. She was screwed and in no condition to run, she most certainly wasn't going to leave Doc behind to be slaughtered and would stand by her and defend the first mate to her full capability. "Where are the others...", her voice was low as she mumbled to herself, she knew there was the circus troupe that was here as well and yet she had not seen Charlie or Benny even Loch could be of assistance at the moment. Clearing the sweat from her brow, the woman had come forward with her own dagger, dodging to the right, the man had grasped her arms and pressed his chest to her back to hold her in place as the woman approached, using the man as leverage she pushed her lower body up and kicked the woman in the gut with both her feet which caused the woman and the man to fall backwards as she rolled off him and buried Ivory deep into his chest. The other woman had finally made it to her feet as Jackie turned to look at her and seethed, getting to her shaky feet both women lunged at each other, each of them grasping their wrists that held the weapons as the wrestled for domination. Snarling, Jackie lashed forward with her teeth and sunk them into the womans neck, ripping her head back as a chunk of flesh came with her, blood squirting from the womans neck and she watched her body slink to the ground. Spitting the chunk of flesh to the ground, Jackie let out a deep sigh as she closed her eyes to take in a breath, dropping Ivory she brought herself to her knees, looking at the two dead individuals around her and chuckled. Only, her chuckle was paused by the pain in her gut, forgetting for a moment that the dagger was still embedded into her skin. Crawling back over to Doc behind the barrels, she placed her back against the wall and closed her eyes, tilting her head to look at her nemesis and smirked. She never thought something such as this would ever happen to any of them...not had Jackie ever been stabbed before and the pain was absolutely dreadful. Breathing in a shuddered breath, her eyes squeezed shut as tears escaped the corners and looked down to her thighs, "I am certainly not meant for fighting Doc...I am not you.". Jackie knew she wasn't as strong as Doc, and if they had switched positions all of this would have been over a long time ago. Being the power house that she was, Doc most likely wouldn't have needed the distraction and the assistance and run in guns blazing, destroying everything in her sight. It was at this moment she had acquired an appreciation for the brute strength the other woman possessed. Jackie may have had the intelligence, but she did not possess the strength that the first mate had and she possibly never would. Looking to her stomach, she watched the blood pour slowly from the wound around the blade, "You have no idea how much I wish you would wake up right now Doc...I need you.".

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                                            A shot as clear as a snare hit broke Benny's lusty gaze away from the immobile Doc upwards towards the fountain spewing from Mista World Wide's chest, then towards the source of the shot. Out there, beyond the crowds was… Kai? Benny blinked, momentarily, before focusing her hazy gaze. The girl's eyes, crimson mirrors of her own, were unstable with the intensity of childish fear, and not the laughable tears that the girl sometimes squeezed out of her eyes when Benny dangled her above man-eating lamprey eels, nor the girlish shrieks the girl let loose a few weeks ago when Benny had the crew leave her (temporarily) behind in a dark pit of reanimated deserted children’s toys from the old world. The latter situation had been child’s play, literally, given Kai’s budding powers. The former… well… okay, so human-eating lampreys weren’t that different than human-eating… humans, one could argue, Benny ruminated briefly. But! No one was allowed to ******** with Kai (well, no more than Benny would permit).

                                            Around the entire partygoers’ den, the atmosphere was turning deliciously dark, heavy to the extent of near tangibility. Benny’s heartbeat began to speed, straining to clear the philandering, dancing fog of her mind – Benny thrived under this sort of oppressively titillating pressure, whether it be beneath the big red or not. BLT, Loch, Kai. Her mind raced between thoughts. From the looks of it, the girl was as safe as she was going to be on the shoulder of that pirate captain; Benny didn’t know much about him, but he hadn’t seemed the type to throw a small child to the wolves as a distraction… probably. Benny’s hunches often ended quite poorly, but that didn’t stop her from trusting them. She’d just have to kill him if he let anything happen to her.

                                            As the surrounding cannibals began to be chipped away by the avian mutant’s gunfire, spraying chunks and blood about the harpy and Doc, a little smile tugged at the edges of the harpy’s lips. What a lovely dark and rich scarlet, thick like old wine, an appreciation that had only grown over the years as she watched Charlie’s art grow. But there was little time to bask in the tantalizing tense air and bloodshed, for the cannibals were already turning inwards, and it seemed 1) that an ally for an ally, Doc for Kai, seemed appropriate and 2) well … Benny wasn’t really thinking past 1. The harpy side swept the two cannibals next to her, then... she /had/ been going for pressure points to disarm, but ended up just slicing off fingers and through eyes instead. Whoops, worked as well, she supposed. Then the harpy lurched, a bit more haphazardly than usual, towards a nearby cannibal colonist who had taken the butcher knife from the reeling Party God and had turned it upon his comrade, cleaving another cannibal chap in two before sawing a younger child cannibal’s arm off. He had just turned towards Doc… but had no chance to act before Benny’s heel found his face, knocking him into the ground. “Oh, do pardon me,” Benny purred, landing in something of a stagger before semi-daintily hopping off. Woah, she was feeling a bit dizzy. Handy butcher knife, this, Benny thought to herself as she swooped to collect it from the man’s hand. A bit heavy, but sharp. Two steps from her, the young child who had lost his arm dove for the man and began to tear at his face, beginning at the puncture hole that Benny’s heel had left in his cheek, bringing chunks of the man’s flesh to his thin, shaking lips.

                                            Benny’s attention, meanwhile, had snagged on the jug of that delectable liquor she just found at the base of the table. Well, it wasn’t like drinking was ever too much a problem for her fighting ability (beyond a lil’ loss of accuracy here and there), and she was feelin’ a bit thirsty… without questioning it further, Benny lifted the jug up and tipped it back, barely taking a good swill before a damned miscreant swung a tiki torch pole at her face as if it were a baseball bat, shattering the jug and very nearly scorching Benny’s face. Fortunately she had stumbled backwards at this juncture, reeling from the latest draft of that somewhat weird… stuff. Visibly peeved, Benny instinctively reacted with a flick of her wrist, forgetting until her wrist registered some minor pain that she wasn’t holding knives but that devilishly sharp butcher knife instead. It cleaved the dude’s head in two, and stuck there, as he fell back. “Whoops. But really, you should have known better. Didn’t anyone teach you damn cannibals a lick of – hic – morality about wasting liquor?” the harpy chided the dead man crossly, spraying knives like needles at any cannibal who dared to come close or give her so much as a deranged eye. She caught a glimpse of Charlie, momentarily, and sent a few friendly flying knives that way as well – a liiiitle more precariously close to the clown than usual, but she knew Charlie would duck; they had always been well coordinated.The cannibals creepin' up on her wouldn’t have as much luck.

                                            The harpy found another goblet at a neighboring table, and while there was a little less than a quarter of its original contents left in it, it still left Benny feeling far more pleasant, and a little floaty. Had she had a bit too much, now? Naaaaaaaah. She felt good, felt loose. Hardly noticed the cannibal who had nearly chomped a hole out of her thigh, over whose head Benny smashed the goblet. The bite had almost felt good. Hm, maybe it was time to stop drinking, though Benny was not typically a lightweight and resented the idea even more stubbornly when intoxicated. Swinging the other way on her perch, she caught sight of – ooooooh boy if it wasn’t redhot redhead pirate, bathed in blood across her chest, wrestlin’ with another (need I even say hot) girl! Was this place /really/ that bad after all? Benny continued to watch for a moment, swaying and deciding to sit at almost too convenient of times and near effortlessly avoiding the few cannibals who lurched at her from her very, very obvious position from atop a table. Her accuracy with knives dipped quite a bit whilst drunk, but her animal instincts in such situations did seem to flow better uninhibited.

                                            Whooo wouldjalookatthat, girl just took a BITE out of a CANNIBAL! Things were gettin' raunchy. Still, victor or no, Jacqueline didn’t look too good, especially now that Benny could see the ghoulish knife in her abdomen. The redhead crawled behind some shelter, where Benny’s eyes could just catch the top of a blonde head – oooh yeah, whoops, she’d forgotten about Doc. Business time, Benny thought to herself. Allies and boobs. Breathing out to focus, she then rapid-fired a small fleet of knives that embedded themselves (well, mostly) into the backs of the heads of a few of the cannibal colonists who had noted Jacqueline's new stakeout. A few of the knives missed their mark, thudding against the barrels. Well, she might as well head on over there and retrieve 'em while helping the other two out, she supposed. She was running a little lower on knives than she cared to acknowledge.

                                            Once she hopped off the table - of course, onto another cannibal's face - two of the cousins from earlier sidled up to her, their hips swaying as enchantingly as before, though with a slightly more acute and shark-like twinge. They were definitely looking a little worse for wear. “Beeeeeeenny,” they demurred, definitely deranged. Somewhere in the back of her head, she knew one needs to stay away from bat s**t crazy women, but the stuff in the liquor was making it hard for her to put defenses up against the power of suggestion. So when one of the girls leaned in to grab her waist, and the other went for the kiss…

                                            “Woah, tiger!” Benny exclaimed, uppercutting the girl in the face to break her hold. The harpy stumbled backwards in the process. “I like a nibble here and there - believe me - but you can’t have it all,” the harpy lectured, woefully, from her latest perch on the ground, rubbing her badly punctured lip – but by now, she was quite surrounded by the freaks. She sighed. Just didn't know when to stop, did they? At least the pain, this time, accompanied by the iron-tasting black blood filling her mouth, was clearing her head.

                                            [ OOC | benny can be enlisted for a helping hand in whoever's next post, assuming they come swoop her up. she's still (mostly) functional, and will be even more so with someone (sober) to help her keep from distraction ]

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                                          Benny seemed very far gone by the looks of her, but that wasn't entirely unusual for the Harpy either. Charlie was usually right there with her, partying it up like no tomorrow, but something was just entirely off-putting about this place. Before either of them really got a chance to talk -- much to Charlie's dismay, as she was hoping to bring Benny 'round -- the music swelled and a general hush fell over the crowd. Or as like a hush as you can get, it was more a soft murmur than actual quiet. Charlie observed the same bald man that Benny did, almost at the same time. Charismatic, well dressed, of average build if truth be told, but with a crooked smile and eyes that seemed to beckon you closer, promising all manner of scrumptious, wanton things. Charlie squirmed as his eyes swept over her and Benny. "Oy, that man gives me the heebie jeebies," she muttered to Benny, even as desire turned her stomach to knots. But her friend had an odd look on her face as she gazed at the man, almost sad.

                                          The look was soon lost, however, as the man began to speak in a tongue she didn't recognize. And then came Doc, hog-tied and gagged, presented to the party goers as... what? Were they being captured as prisoners? What was going on? It was obviously nothing good and Charlie immediately leaned toward Benny to attempt to snap her out of it, but Benny was gone. Only the women remained and with Benny's warm body hopping up beside Doc, the women turned their attention to Charlie with murmurs and gentle touches. "Hey! Gerroff!" The women pawed at her, but she slapped their hands away and scrambled to her feet, her intention being to join Benny and get her and Doc out of there. Of course, she wasn't entirely sure how she'd do that. No one was bleeding and she wasn't about to start making people bleed. The way these people looked at Doc, she had a feeling as soon as they smelled blood they'd be more than Charlie could deal with. She pushed her way through the crowd that seemed to press in on Doc and Benny, but they grew too close to permit her passage. The last thing she caught a glimpse of was Benny licking Doc's face before she was shoved back out of the crowd. "Yeah, well to hell with you, too, buggers!" Which was about the time she caught sight of the elevated Party God of Desire -- as Charlie's nether region could attest to -- and a long, wickedly sharp knife that looked like a lightning bolt. Despite the urge to push herself forward and throw herself at the Party God's mercy, she turned to look for anyone else from their little group.

                                          Apparently it was good timing. The party was beginning to break up now, Charlie could hear shouts and gunshots, though the action was still not visible to her. Not until a very drunken party goer stumbled in front of her, spraying her with blood from a wound in his shoulder. "Ay, thanks mate! Needed some'o that." She grinned a devious smile and tugged on the blood that poured from his wound-- Only to find that it had a sluggish, whimsical quality to it. It seemed to stagger, even as she formed it into a whip. It hardened as she told it to, but as she snapped the newly formed whip at a screeching woman diving at her with her fingers curled into claws, it seemed to wobble and instead of snapping the woman's face aside and leaving a bloody gash, it tangled in her legs and brought her to the ground, still howling. "Dafuq? ... Eh, it'll do." She commenced the bloodshed, though it was trickier with blood that was intoxicated. It seemed to have a mind of its own half the time, though it still did as she required.

                                          When she looked up again, she spotted the buxom woman over by Doc and found no sign of Benny. She left a path of carnage in her wake, having done more damage than she had really meant to do. The chimera was not the type to enjoy killing when she could avoid it, despite her affinity to blood. She had no time to give it much thought, nor would she deign to do so later. What's done is done and besides, these people seemed pretty intent on eating them. Killing some seemed only fair. A pair of knives whirred by her head and planted themselves in the faces of two cannibals that had been making for her. A glance over her shoulder found Benny. A moment later she was drinking from a goblet while a cannibal gnawed on her leg. "... Okay, probably a good thing I didn't touch the booze," she muttered, as Benny smashed the goblet over the cannibal's head.

                                          Charlie darted forward, strong legs propelling her through the crowd, using her momentum to throw herself around people. The whip in her hand shifted to become a long, deadly sword, it's blade curved and gleaming crimson. She sliced her way through as need be, until she caught sight of Jackie stumbling out of site of the others, blessedly ignored by the cannibals for now. Charlie darted out and made for Jackie and Doc, skidding to a halt beside them. She had nearly passed them up, not realizing how badly injured Jackie was. "Eesh. Stuck pig I can see, but sticking a navigator is never good." She tsked softly and knelt beside the two. "I can help that wound, if ya let me pull that sticker outta you." Charlie was capable of patching her up a bit, though they had not known each other long enough for the redhead to trust her. She wouldn't be surprised if she refused. Except she didn't, so Charlie carefully grasped the hilt of the knife and pulled it from Jackie's stomach. Her other hand hovered over the wound and as the knife left her, the blood slowed and coagulated, forming a scab over the wound. "There. That'll hold for now. No sudden movements and no carrying Doc, got it?" She grinned at the redhead before poking her head out and giving a sharp whistle. "OY! BENNY! Bit o' help over here!"



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                    ▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀

                                ◢ ↓ THERE'S SOMETHING BEHIND THESE ＷＡＬＬＳ SOMETHING UNDER THE ＳＨＥＥＴＳ
                                xxx sohjing xxxTAKE A LITTLE TIME TO CONTEMPLATE: x WILL WE EVER SEE WHAT IT'S LIKE BEHIND THESE WALLS x AND ARE YOU STILL MOVING UP EVERY TIME YOU FALL




                                            "I'm flying!" Apollo laughed--giggled. He hugged the other man close, burying his face into the other's neck. Ah, this was nice. This was perfect.

                                            No, no it isn't.

                                            Apollo blinked, face scrunching up with distaste.

                                            Don't let go.

                                            "I wasn't going to," he retorted angrily, not realizing that he was speaking to someone--or something--no one else could hear. Mav tilted a little and Apollo held on tighter. He could hear the screams below, but they sounded distant and vague, like they were happening in a different world, a different universe.

                                            Why didn't you listen to me? Now look at you. Look at what you've done.

                                            "I've done nothing!" Well, not yet, anyway--but Apollo, wisely, kept that part to himself. Although, his silence didn't seem to help because, if voices had bodies and faces, he was fairly certain that it had just rolled its eyes. "Whatever," he muttered, closing his eyes as he thought about all the things he'd rather do right then. And everything he wanted to do involved a lot less clothes, but, in some of them, they would still be flying. Midair--

                                            Are you trying to be the village idiot? Because, congratulations, you're winning.

                                            "Thanks," Apollo slurred, grinning stupidly into Mav's neck. He sighed as he breathed in the scent of travel and party. It was different from his own, but it wasn't altogether unpleasant. And he wondered if it tasted as good as it smelled.

                                            Don't. Don't bite him. You might get the yips.

                                            "What--Ah." He shuddered involuntarily at the touch, his eyes closing to white. He liked that--that feeling of whatever it was. He'll have to get the other man to do it again. Ideally, right away.

                                            "Polly, as much as I'm enjoying the turn things have taken--and really, I am--I need you to stop blissing for maybe five minutes or so. You can go right back to it after, if you want, but I need those five minutes of normal.”

                                            "Don't wanna stop." He was still holding on, but part of his mind--the most convincing part of his mind--was telling him to get Mav out of his clothes. Mav was wearing far too much clothes for Apollo's taste.

                                            Oh my god, are you daft? Do you even know what's happening? Oh good lord.

                                            The irritating voice grated on his nerves and it made all the pleasantness of earlier recede like a fast-moving tide. He didn't want this; he didn't want the voice. Gnashing his teeth together, Apollo forced the voice away. Or he tried. Every time he had it boxed it, it would reappear in another corner of his mind. And it was getting louder. It was getting so loud.

                                            "Would you shut up?" He screamed and, forgetting where he was or what he was supposed to be doing, accidentally let go. He hadn't meant to let go. No, he didn't want to let go, but that damned voice kept saying this and that over and over again. The fall was only a short distance--a few yards--but the landing had been brutal. Apollo fell on top of other people and rolled into the ground, half-crying at the pain, half-crying at, well, the pain.

                                            Someone grabbed him from behind, swung him around, but Apollo stumbled and fell backwards, narrowly avoiding the punch. Frowning, the snowy-haired man looked back, shocked that the other man was trying for a second blow. With nothing on hand, he covered his face and kicked. There was a loud, painful squeal as the man landed on the ground, falling like a sack of potatoes.

                                            Scrambling to his feet and still confused, the mechanic looked up at Mav, who was still, well, flying.

                                            "Look at what you did!" He shouted at no one in particular or, well, no one that anyone else could see or hear. "Now I'm dirty! I have to go get cleaned up... Or, I can just take off my clothes."

                                            Stop! Stop! Stop it!

                                            The voice panicked, but it was about as effective as oil in putting out fire, which is to say, not effective in the least.

                                            "It's dirty," he whined as he tried to pull the shirt over his head, but, tired and disoriented, he only managed to fall over again. "Argh!" Surrendering any attempt to take off the shirt in a civilized manner, Apollo, with all the strength he could muster, pulled. The steams ripped and the voice screamed in frustration, yelling about an original Yv'lu or something, but Apollo only grinned stupidly. Maybe if he took off his pants too, Mav would stop whatever it was that he was doing and take him somewhere a little less--

                                            He blinked as the scene seemed to come into focus for the first time in, well, forever. Everything sort of rushed in at once--the colors, the sounds, the smell. Oh god, the smell. Blood was everywhere and, everywhere he looked, people were either on the ground--bleeding--or running--bleeding. And then the feeling of euphoria seemed to vanish as fear settled into the pit of his stomach. His hand reached for his holster again, but only found empty air--he wasn't even wearing the holster anymore. He kept forgetting that Fang wasn't with him anymore. He kept forgetting to get a replacement.

                                            "s**t!" He cursed loudly as he turned around, trying to make it back to the ship. But before he could get very far, someone grabbed his shoulder, spinning him around. Redhead, freckles, purple lips.

                                            "Apollo," he was glaring, a spot of blood at the corner of his lips. "Where do you think you're going?"

                                            "Bathroom."

                                            The redhead sneered as he threw Apollo into a pile of barrels, knocking everything over, but no one else seemed to care or notice. "You owe me a meal first." His mouth opened wide, revealing two rows of sharp, pointed teeth and Apollo, still smarting from the impact, couldn't seem to move his body. He couldn't even yell.

                                            See? This is what happens when you don't listen to me.



                                            xxx sohjing xxx dns thanks ▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀

                                                        xxx sohjing xxx sohjing xxxAND THIS WE LEARNED WE WOULD BE FREE
                                                        xxx sohjing xxxTAKE A LITTLE TIME TO CONTEMPLATE:A TRUTH THAT'S BEEN LOCKED IN WAY DOWN IN ME A TRUTH THAT'S BEEN LOCKED IN WAY DOWN IN ME





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