Post by Terminally Chill on Sept 20, 2017 21:16:51 GMT -5
Wyatt was caught in a half-dream when the splash of footsteps snapped him back to the edge of exhaustion. Even the short minutes offered desperately needed respite from the grueling chaos of the day, the pile of pillows and soft fabrics threatening to lull him into a sleep that would surely last for days. Fighting against the hypnotic comfort of the pattering rain, he took one last swig from his flask and climbed to his feet with a disappointed grunt. Wasn't any money to be made just sitting around.
Kinnatoa stirred briefly from his own stupor as the mercenary rallied, while Anastasia slept like a rock amid her fortress of cushions. Wyatt didn’t bother to speak a word yet, eyeing carefully around the mountains of upholstery. He turned to a velvety sheet of blood-red fabric, rubbing the material between his fingers and giving a satisfied snort. His blade effortlessly sliced the next moment, leaving two clean red strips in his hand. Holding one of the pieces out to Kinnatoa, he finally spoke.
“Here, take this n’ wrap it ‘round your left arm. Got it?”
A wondrous glimmer swelled in the owl boy’s eyes as he retrieved the fabric.
“See?! I knew you’d—”
“Not 'cause they’re cool,” Wyatt quickly snapped, his enthusiastic companion deflating slightly.
“Just figure blendin' in a little is better than stickin’ out a lot.”
Tying his own red band around his arm, the mercenary briefly reflected on the irony of playing one of the perpetrators of the Unfinishista attack after just playing a victim of the attack only a short time ago. How did people actually fall for this sort of stuff?
“Up n’ at ‘em, Missy.” Wyatt prodded lightly at the dozing girl with the end of his sheath, bringing about a dazed and muffled chorus of groans.
“Wwwwwwwwwwhhhhhyyyyyy...”? Anastasia obnoxiously protested, red shock of hair finally poking out from her over-sized fur coat.
The prodding became more forceful, Wyatt’s patience straining to bear the sheer amount of obvious reasons to not be sleeping in the middle of a civil war.
“’Cause you gotta show us the way.”
The stubborn child finally stirred from her slumber after a couple more jabs, firing a sleepy death glare to the cowboy at the other end of the sword. The scowl suddenly lit up in delight though as she noticed the red bandanas tied around Wyatt and Kinnatoa’s arms.
“Oooooooh~! So we aaaare–”
“No! We ain’t doin’ whatever you think we’re doin’,” Wyatt growled through clenched teeth, shooting a fed-up glance to Kinnatoa. These two were way too similar.
“B-but, w-why didn’t I get one?” came the inevitable question, childish desire breaking through Anastasia's typically proud demeanor.
‘’Cause everyone out there knows you ain’t an Unfinishista! Now pull that coat up 'round your hair.”
The little redhead complied begrudgingly, the great fur fluff nearly swallowing her head whole. Wyatt could tell the little redhead was more important in the conflict than she led on. You didn't get recognized by an army or walk around with four human tanks as bodyguards if you weren't a bigwig, or at least the daughter of one.
“Anyone recognizes you, we'll just say we captured ya n' plan on stringin' ya up from the very tip-top of the castle,” he added with a smirk, managing to regain some of cool composure.
“You wouldn't dare.”
Wyatt waved her off, treading lightly from the safety of their comfortable cave to the edge of the alley wall.
“Quit worryin’ about how shitty my plan is n’ start thinkin’ of the best way for us to get you home, Missy.”
It was wonder he could even plan at all.