Foster Van Denend (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
control_freak) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
lostcarnival2017-08-10 07:28 pm
control_freak) wrote in lostcarnival2017-08-10 07:28 pm
Entry tags:
Chill Out [Closed]
Who: Foster and Taako
When: Day 142
Where: Trailer 18
What: Foster and Taako talk without there being some kind of fucking crisis.
Warnings: This may get NSFW.
Foster doesn't even pause to turn on the light when they reach his trailer, let alone make sure the door stays open--he collapses directly onto the tangled, bloodstained sheets of what is obviously his bed and rolls onto his back, one hairy arm draped over his eyes.
If Taako wants a second to look around, he has it, but there's not much to see. Trailer 18 is... weirdly empty. It's furnished, obviously, but other than the single unmade bed, there's nothing in it.
The walls are bare, the tables are empty, the other bed is made and untouched.
"Wherever," Foster says, which means... well, it means Taako can put himself wherever.
When: Day 142
Where: Trailer 18
What: Foster and Taako talk without there being some kind of fucking crisis.
Warnings: This may get NSFW.
Foster doesn't even pause to turn on the light when they reach his trailer, let alone make sure the door stays open--he collapses directly onto the tangled, bloodstained sheets of what is obviously his bed and rolls onto his back, one hairy arm draped over his eyes.
If Taako wants a second to look around, he has it, but there's not much to see. Trailer 18 is... weirdly empty. It's furnished, obviously, but other than the single unmade bed, there's nothing in it.
The walls are bare, the tables are empty, the other bed is made and untouched.
"Wherever," Foster says, which means... well, it means Taako can put himself wherever.
no subject
Taako heads to their little trailer bathroom to get something to transmute into some medical supplies; he has no idea how sanitary shit he makes through transmutation is, but he realizes pretty quickly that Foster definitely doesn't care, and anything will be better than the nothing he's got now. So he whips up a thick gauze pad, and retrieves some normal washcloths to clean the wound with a little before he applies the gauze. He also summons up some tape-- the kind they have in first aid kits, so they don't have to use packing tape or something to stick it on.
He pokes his head back out of the bathroom as he runs some water to dampen the cloths, frowning.
"You're not gonna fucking kill me or something during the act, are you? Like... this isn't some kind of weird trap, right?"
no subject
It's not that the idea isn't appealing--it's extraordinary, magnificent, exquisite and on another day, might even be tempting, just by its concept alone--but he's been looking for someone to properly use him, not for a way to rack up a body count.
He's not going to back out of that now.
Still, he responds in what is probably the least reassuring manner possible.
"Do you want me to?"
no subject
"... euhhhh. Can we... do this thing over on the other bed here, maybe?"