[OPEN POST] NEW BRO'HOOD

[fireaholic.livejournal.com]

Characters: John, Kevin, Logan, sons a'bitches, anyone feasible.
Setting: Brotherhood HQ, Vermont.
Content: EPIC.
Status: OPEN AND READY.


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Comments

grr i thought i posted this last night /blames fail!mouse

[justphases.livejournal.com]

[Kitty feels something like relief, and knows it shows on her face. It's been too long of a day to hide anything now. Taking off isn't something she expected him to do, not now, not after this - but right now, she doesn't know him well enough for certainties. Faith is all she has.

She follows him after a moment, quickening her pace until she meets his stride. After that there's quiet, only their footsteps and noises from the clearing behind them. The cabin is in sight when she breaks the silence.] How are you feeling? [It's a stupid question, because the answer is right in front of her. He doesn't exactly look peachy. She steals a glance at him, scanning for injuries, anything not on the surface she might have missed before. There's a lot of things Kitty wants to say right now - I'm glad you're all right, you and Logan are stupid and brave, but none of it quite comes out. Instead she states the obvious.] I mean, it got rough back there.

STUPID MOUSE D:

[fireaholic.livejournal.com]

[He nearly misses the relief painted plainly across her face - nearly misses it completely, but it's there, haunting his steps much like he hears hers padding to catch up besides him. Like an adorable little kitten hounding his steps or... something. It shouldn't stir something in him, but it does: frustration, annoyance. He bristles less for her concern and more for the fact she wants him to stick around for some fucking reason. And the fucking questioning. How is he feeling. What the fuck kind of question is that?

Experimentally, he tries to bend his fingers, wincing at how they throb. Either way, his lifts his arm to move a branch out of his way as they trek up hill, entering the emptied campsite.]

Peachy, kitten. Haven't felt better in my life.

[He says this in his usual drawling, bored tone, kicking over some muddy, discarded pot as he heads towards the cabin.]