Open RP Post

[wuzzafuzzle]

↪ Pick one of my characters (make sure to specific which version) OR drop any character of yours in and get a random choice.
↪ Find a meme, roll something, idefk
↪ Or cheat and just pick something.
↪ You can also just throw a picture, quote, or whatever kind of prompt you want.
↪ Or just leave a TFLN.

Comments

[fossils]

[ At the warning an eyebrow raises, just barely enough to say 'oh yeah?', and then he lowers his gaze again to his knees. Somewhere Steve once heard that the body remembers every wound, cut and scrape. He can't really say if his does anymore, but he's still got memories to spare.

There's no resistance to the hand pressing against his chest. He lets it shift him, hardly winces as the cloth wipes away the dried blood - and if his stare goes a bit unfocused he's only recalling the thousand of other times they've been like this. It's easy to fall back into old habits (to feel small again).

With the second push he leans back a bit, grits his teeth at the burn, muscles and skin twitching involuntarily. Yeah, that stings. But he stays obediently still, and quiet - even for him. Been like that since they got back to the motel, the way he gets when something's bothering him (besides a semi-gaping wound in his torso). His body can handle all of this: the self-appointed mission, the chasing and the waiting, every physical toll. These are easy habits to fall into too.

But that's the problem.

He takes in a deep breath, feels the sharp spike of pain from the wound, and lets his lungs empty again. As Steve leans forward again his gaze finally lifts from his knees. He softly shrugs the hand from his shoulder with what is probably supposed to be a carefree smile, or at least the impression of one. The knit brow kind of defeats the effect. ]

Don't think we're getting the deposit back. [ Though hey, this place looks like it's used to getting bloodstains (among other things) out of the carpet. He lets out a short laugh through his nose at the joke he didn't even bother to finish, which has him wincing again and slumping at his shoulders. It's only a split second of indecision, eyes locked on his knees again, before he leans down to rest his forehead on his friend's shoulder.

Old habits. These days they tend to get him stabbed, but that's what this body is good for. ]