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Post by Deleted on Sept 11, 2013 6:31:31 GMT -5
“Psh, stuff tastes like shit anyway.” He tossed his personal flask carelessly behind him, within seconds regretting this decision. Oh shit... The strange Smog flipped and flopped awkwardly trying to catch the metal container before it hit the ground; unfortunately for Lennon he had also forgotten to twist the cap tightly. As he soared like a buffoon (seemingly forgetting he had company staring straight at him) the thermos spilled its contents like a waterfall onto the silly male who clashed with the dirt, a low grunt gurgling from within. Lennon now smelled of gasoline... shit.
Like a rocket Lennon returned to his feet, hands rapidly wiping to remove the powerfully scented contents of the flask. He mustn’t allow anyone to discover him. Anyone that existed in these worlds was aware of the tragedy and contempt that followed any Smog. He was viewed as a mobile dump, a piece of trash not worth one’s breath. However, what else could he do to defend himself? It obviously wasn’t normal for one to indulge in the poisons of this realm; it was not sanitary (at least to others; shit tasted fantastic to him)!
“I-Is that so?” He pushed and shoved to get this predicament out of the air between them but the scent betrayed him. There was no goddamn use hiding it. “Worse I can do is kill ya’. At least, not without physical contact.” That was as much detail that he could muster, he was already disgusted by the situation.
ooc: ugh post, i’m sorry
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Post by Deleted on Sept 11, 2013 9:53:45 GMT -5
Scarecrow raised an eyebrow and watched Lennon attempt to catch his flask. He would've offered to help but it was thrown away from him. Besides, there were some people who were very protective of their belongs. Lennon could be one. When the contents spilled all over the place, Scarecrow couldn't help but cough as the smell of gasoline hit him.
"Well....that answers one theory." Scarecrow said as he coughed. "Considering I've done nothing to you, I'm really not a force that would be worth your time to kill."
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Post by Deleted on Sept 12, 2013 3:02:25 GMT -5
“D-Don’t worry, I not here to kill anyone so you cool bro.” Lennon attempted to reassure his company that he truly meant no harm during this occasion. There need not be anymore corpses to add to his already enormous mountain of domineering guilt and pain. Grace, Rob, Dan, Caleb... all of their names acted as a scar decorated within the creases of his brain tearing him asunder; Lennon meant them all no harm he was just extremely careless with these simple beings! They seemed to collapse on themselves without warning. He recalled a single member of his old band, Preston who was much like a bunny rabbit skulking the meadow for supplies. If you wish to approach this human, do so with extreme caution or suffering would follow right behind. Lennon was unsure why exactly he was the way he was, however the cuts and scars told a tale of absolute dismal destruction. I mean, how could you not be being where he was before. He was another soul heavy on Lennon’s conscious for the Smog had brought drugs into his already insecure lifestyle.
With an awkward clear of his throat Lennon tried to draw attention away from himself and his loser antics.“So uh yeah, you mentioned a witch? What was she, an A cup? B? C maybe? Was she good looking? Wait, you sly dog don’t tell me you had two tails wagging?!”
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Post by Deleted on Sept 12, 2013 12:08:51 GMT -5
"There were no tails wagging of any sort. Please stop going on about that, I wasn't with them" Scarecrow answered. "I want to find her to talk to her. I want to be able to have a conversation with the person that made this possible." referring to his being alive.
Scarecrow was telling the truth. For countless centuries he had been searching. True, Talzia seemed to have a mind link with him but it was only to help direct him to get somewhere. One moment she was there giving directions to a place and the next gone.
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Post by Deleted on Sept 17, 2013 7:09:00 GMT -5
It was obviousl he’d struck a nerve with Scarecrow. Lennon felt extremely disgusted with himself; this bewitched fellow seemed genuine unlike so many the Smog had come across and he was doing an absolutely terrible job producing hospitable results. Clearing of his throat and embarrassed gazed Lennon attempted to rekindle the situation. “I-I’m sorry man... I just. I find it hard to talk to people...” Scarecrow had managed to shatter the wall he’d put up. Perhaps the shame of spilling his sustenance all over himself plus making himself appear like the biggest jackass to Scarecrow. Whatever it was, the yellow eyed creature had achieved a seemingly impossible feat.”Again, I-I didn’t mean to go on like that.”
The Smog searched his drenched trench coat for another item to munch on nervously, trying to fight the nerve racking jitters he’d stuck himself into. “Let’s start over. I’m Lennon.” Encroaching on Scarecrow’s space, the Smog stretched his hand kindly to the others, eyes darting and mind buzzing with how stupid he must’ve looked. “Don’t worry, I’ve covered my hands; nothing should happen to ya’.”
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Post by Deleted on Sept 17, 2013 10:15:02 GMT -5
Scarecrow was surprised when Lennon started to stutter. It made him think that he had offended the man.
"Sorry, I wasn't meaning to sound harsh." Scarecrow said, referring to what he said earlier. "It's okay."
Upon Lennon's suggestion to start the introduction and conversation over, Scarecrow titled his head a bit. What good would that do? In all the centuries of being around, he couldn't recall a second introduction. But he saw no harm in it and shook Lennon's hand.
"Scarecrow." Scarecrow answered.
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Post by Deleted on Oct 9, 2013 8:19:54 GMT -5
The nervous Smog had thankfully scoured long enough to snatch a lonely cigar nestled in the crevasse of his inner pocket and scrambled to ensnare his trembling lips around its soothing form. The taste of oil and nicotine blended as he slipped between his dried lips, teeth nibbling on the deep brown coating of the soaked butt. With a embarrassed gaze, Lennon tried his best not to fall apart on this enchanted being. “It-Its not that. I’m just... not use to such genuine conversation.” He spotted there. He was not looking for a pity party and he was doing a fan-fucking-tastic job making one. This is why no one likes you Len, you moron. Always trying to make people feel bad!
“S-So? Nice night huh?” Lennon’s sad attempt to create small obviously failed miserably. Clearing his throat, he blurted out the only thing he knew. “You like drugs?” He continued to try and play it cool, a mischievous grin slowly spreading across his face.
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Post by Deleted on Oct 9, 2013 11:29:35 GMT -5
Scarecrow stood there and listened to what Lennon had to say. So, he wasn't used to a conversation like this? What kind of conversations was he used to? He stood there silently but fully listening. When Lennon was down talking completly, Scarecrow spoke.
"I guess it is." Scarecrow answered about the night question.
He shrugged his boney shoulders to the next one. He didn't like them really, but it was something that other people did and why should he stop them? People are allowed to do what they want to do mostly. This country allowed it and well, who was he to interfere with the likes of other people?
"No not really." Scarecrow said.
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