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 Posted: Thu May 26, 2016 12:13 pm
It was a good few days after the full moon had finally cooled its s**t and left the town relatively at peace again. The worst of America's wounds, the swipe of claw marks along her back, weren't even close to fully healed, but they were along enough to allow for her full range of motion again. Enough so that a bit of light running wouldn't have her leaking a bloody trail and ruining another shirt. Outside the camp ground, on the edge of the state forest, there was a nice little path she'd taken to running on the occasion. It wasn't too popular so she hardly ever came across any other joggers and while there were signs for them, she had yet to see anybody biking along it. So it was a bit of a surprise when she turned the corner around a thick bunch of leaves and - Moments later, the girl found herself in a pile of scraped limbs, aluminum frame, and spinning wheels. Above her, Bitterberry the bluejay called out loudly.
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Posted: Thu May 26, 2016 5:01 pm
A good few days, and Shiloh's shoulder was still absolutely ******** killing him. Somehow, the ache that had set in was way worse than the claws that split the skin in the first place. He'd started to get stir crazy, laying around in bed doing nothing except hurt and think about everything that'd happened. It wasn't even that the pain was overtly terrible, just annoying enough to agitate him into restlessness.
So here he was. Honestly, biking with his headphones in was an unfortunate habit of Shiloh's, but hey. He'd survived werewolves, so surely he'd be able to survive whatever the hell else life threw at him.
Fortunately, life didn't decide to throw a bear or a car or something equally hazardous into his direction, but he still hadn't realized someone had stepped out into his path of mach-speed destruction until he opened his eyes, wheels spinning, enjoying the new view of the sky. When had his eyes even closed? He couldn't remember...
Shiloh rarely made it this far out of town (honestly, he had set off on his bike with the intent to just go, no reservations of the where), but naturally it would end up something like ******** my liiiiife." he groaned from the floor, ignoring the ache that now penetrated more than just his shoulder, and equally ignoring the poor soul he just trampled. lizzzzzbot im crying it's more than okay
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Posted: Thu May 26, 2016 7:55 pm
It took a cool minute to get her breath and bearings back, but eventually America untangled herself enough to sit up and take in the situation. There were a good few scrapes on her legs, the sort that start to burn right away so you know they aren't too serious. And then there was... "Hey," she croaked, "you're that punchy yelling kid, right?" A moment and then she dregged up, "Sh-y....Shiloh?"
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Posted: Thu May 26, 2016 8:02 pm
Well, of all the people Shiloh was expecting, someone vaguely familiar definitely wasn't one of them.
And she knew his name? Wait.
"P-Punch yelling kid?!" he forced himself to sit up, rubbing the back of his head with his hand. Unfortunately for America, Shiloh wasn't the keenest observer, or at least failed to remember the names of everyone who wasn't explicitly introduced to him.
"Shiloh. It's Shiloh." he confirmed, looking her over wearily before realizing that he probably should be nicer, what with literally running her over. "Uh, sorry... about the bike thing. Hey—" his music was still playing through his earbuds, and though neither remained in his head anymore, he could still make out the tinny voices.
"—You were at the..." thing, "....sorry but... I don't really know your name?"
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Posted: Thu May 26, 2016 8:18 pm
"America," she shot him a weak fingergun and wink and she said it. "America Jones." The girl moved to begin the process of fully disentangling herself, wincing all the way. "Don't worry about it...nothing broken, far as I can tell. Are you alright, sweet pea?"
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Posted: Sun May 29, 2016 3:58 pm
"...like... like the country?" of all the things Shiloh was concerned about, her name origin probably shouldn't have been one of them, but this was Shiloh Beaumont we were talking about and stupid things tended to take precedence.
Speaking of, sweet pea was just as, if not more offensive. "It's Shiloh." he huffed, puffing his cheeks out as he wiggles away, trying to scramble to his feet. It was quite the process, and he still had one leg tangled under his bike. "And I'm fine." except his shoulder really ******** hurt, and he was sure he was bruised in a whole hell of a lot more places too, but he was honestly okay. Sort of. If you weren't counting werewolf hell or how his best friend was a rabbit or how he could see weird magical s**t now.
"And there better ********' not be nothin' broken." because if he was fine, then America better be ******** fine too, or something. Jesus. He was too young to be liable for someone else, he was too young to go to jail. "If you survived that ******** hell from Blackfriar, then I'd be pretty goddamn pissed knowin' a cheapass bike was the thing that did your a** in."
Eloquent.
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Posted: Sun May 29, 2016 10:15 pm
"Yeah, like the country. They named it after me." She grinned broadly and soon burst out laughing at the way he voiced his concern. "Oh honey, it'll take more n'that for sure. But I'll try to stay in one piece on the way back, lest I piss you off." America was still laughing, albeit while wincing, as she got up. "C'mon, I don't live far from here. You can make sure I don't fall into a ditch and die a shameful death and I can treat you to some lemonade, or a soda if you'd rather." And they could take care of their scrapes. Even if he was fine.
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Posted: Thu Jun 02, 2016 3:03 pm
Like the country. Huh. Honestly, Shiloh would be peeved if his parents had named him Canada, or Maine, or any sort of... place that already existed. But if America was fine with it, then he supposed he'd be fine with it. Even if it was bizarre referring to someone as a place.
"Y'don't like... have a nickname or nothin?" he wasn't one to get personal, but it'd be better than saying America every time he wanted to talk to her. Maybe he was just being petty. Probably. This was Shiloh.
"I mean, s'doesn't matter I guess. I like soda."
Shiloh stumbled to his feet, picking up his bike. Good thing it was already scuffed to hell; any injuries it sustained would go virtually unnoticed. "You really live all the way out here?" It's sort of the middle of nowhere....
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Posted: Thu Jun 02, 2016 3:15 pm
She huffed a little at that, but was still smiling when she admitted, "Folks back home would call me Meri, if that's a bit easier on ya." Walking beside him, she gingerly felt out any extra damage. Miraculously, the claw wounds on her back hadn't seemed to have reopened, and really, that's all she could ask for. "Yeah, it's one of the more affordable campgrounds, has all the hookups and a pretty view to boot." Pausing for a moment, the girl clarifies, "M'not from around here. Was just traveling though when I got in a bad accident. I've been traveling in the country in my Sweet Pea, prettiest little caravan either side of the Mississippi." She preened a little as she spoke, affectionately proud of the camper that had taken her coast to coast.
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Posted: Thu Jun 02, 2016 7:09 pm
"Meri?" he puffed his cheeks out. It was... better. "'Cause you're so merry?" wow, bad joke Beaumont. Even he wanted to punch himself in the gut for that one. Hell, he was cringing. "Sorry, bad joke."
But hey, campgrounds sounded sort of neat. "...You like, live by yourself in a ********' camper?" okay, that actually sounded.... kind of cool. "Bad accident how?" he had his hands on his bikes handlebars, walking placidly. Small talk wasn't his forte, but he was giving it a go. There was a kinship at least, having survived that ******** with the Moonwalkers.
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Posted: Thu Jun 02, 2016 7:21 pm
"Well, better than married, right?" She gave him a big wink at this, her own awful sense of humor shining bright and clear and without a bit of shame. "Yeah, though now I've got," she gestured toward the blue jay flitting from tree to tree along the path. "Mr. Bitterberry's good company in his way. The accident..." she drawled, "...was a sturdy ********' something in the middle of the road at night. Never managed to convince the insurance fellow I hadn't just driven into a metal pole, but the damage done..." she shook her head. "Might well as been. Truck's still in repairs, she's an old gal, but the last of the needed parts are due in soon,"
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Posted: Sun Jun 05, 2016 5:59 pm
"Oh ******** hell—way better than being married." he gagged childishly at the thought. He was pretty sure he'd never get that far with someone, and honestly it was totally fine by him.
He turned his attention up to the trees, seeing the blue jay. It made him pause, "Wait, it's following us?" honestly, in the wake of the Blackfriar event, Shiloh had been more preoccupied on the Moonwalkers than he had been with the... well, Wargs. He did recall—though vaguely—what that was all about. "Bitterberry..." he wondered if he was as bitter as his namesake.
"Well, I guess you don't have to be alone 'nymore. Still sucks about the truck." he pursed his lips, "But, it doesn't seem like a bad thing, even if you still were by yourself... I mean, I don't think I'd mind it myself." he looked down at his bike as the wheels turned and turned and turned, "S'pretty cool, actually."
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Posted: Mon Jun 06, 2016 7:56 pm
"Bit costly and it beat me up to hell, black eye n'everything, but gotta say, don't regret it a bit." Imagining a world where she hadn't had to stay in Ashdown felt incredibly empty, a vast and sterile lie. "Don't worry," America assured him as the trees opened up and the campground came into sight. "Mr. Bitterberry has only pooped on my friend Taym. And I'm pretty sure that was on purpose." She kept a window open for him to fly in and out at will, he did his doo in the great outdoors. Simple and so far it had worked for them. Leading him to a trim little blue camper, she let him in with a cheery, "Make yourself comfortable!"
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Posted: Sat Jun 11, 2016 12:33 pm
The blue camper wasn't much, but Shiloh was easily impressed, "Wow..."
Honestly, he was more captivated by the idea of living alone in the middle of semi-nowhere. He looked to the blue jay again, then back to the camper, to the open window... The wind was blowing a little and everything seemed pretty peaceful and serene. It might be nice to come out here and draw sometime, all things considered.
"Oh uh, sure, sure, thanks..." he set his bike against the outside before wandering in. Was he supposed to take his shoes off? Etiquette wasn't really his strong suit.
It wasn't until he found a place to sit that he became aware of all his aches and pains again. His shoulder was by far the worse of it, but pulling his pant leg up to investigate his knee proved it to be a little scraped and banged too. Figures; but it was minor and he'd live. Actually, his ankle was aching too, and his fingers—did he sprain one? At least it was his right hand, and...
The list went on.
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Posted: Mon Jun 13, 2016 8:46 pm
While he catalogued his hurts, something cold tapped Shiloh's shoulder. A bottle of rootbeer, no brand label, so probably some local's homebrew. In America's other hand was a good sized first aid kit. She waggled it and explained, "It'd have sucked to get hurt 200 miles from the nearest pack of bandaids." Placing it on the table, the girl pulled out a box of alcohol swabs, neosporin, bandaids, and a roll of gauze in case something was really ugly. After a moment of thought, she brought out an instant cold pack as well. Holding it up, she asked, "Anything need a bit of icing?"
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