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@deacon-mercer
ooc
aaaalright so most of you already know i'm leaving. this hasn't been a spur of the moment decision but rather the consequence of many months lacking motivation. to the people i've known for months and even years here, i'm gonna miss you lots, and to the new members, have fun!
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Neither. I’m a Cresbitarian. The one with the lion?
Never heard of it. But a lion doesn’t sound religious if you ask me. Too badass.
I don’t talk—forget it. I’m not likely to call the police because I’m not a very smart guy, as you know.Â
Uh, would you like some sugar or something?
I've noticed. But you are nice, and sugar would be great too. Thanks.
So what religion are you into? The happy golden fatty or the one chilling on the cross?
No, it’s not, but practicing religion is. I’d rather not die just because some weird guy picked my house to hide in. It’s like what? 2 am?
You're one of those preacher guys? I thought they had killed all of those. And who are you calling weird? Last time I checked I don't talk to my imaginary friend God. /jumps on his now empty bed, spilling coffee on it, and watches him tossing books at the closet/ It isn't very smart keeping illegal stuff in your house where everyone can see it. Don't worry, I think I lost them on my way here. Oh, and if you call the agents or warn anyone I'm here or blahblah whatever I will kill you. You know the drill.
 Do I look like I own a watch? /sips his coffee/ Woah this is terrible. Is your God against caffeine?
Search the house? [his eyes widened, he jumped out of bed and started quickly shoving books and icons into the back of a closet]
Yeah, yeah, whatever, knock yourself out.
Dude, chill. No one is gonna kill you for your creepy figurines. Being a shitty home decorator isn't punishable with the death penalty. Unless they are filled with something. Are they hollow? Do they have something good inside?
Thanks mate. Wait, is this decaf? Gosh, live a little, would ya?
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I’m sorry, can I help you?
Uhm, yeah, you could pretend I'm not here, maybe? And if someone knocks on your door, we can all pretend I'm not here. And don't let them in. If they search the house we're fucked because I suck at hide and seek, okay?
/walks to the kitchen/ Hey, do you have coffee? Can I smoke here?
Wow. Aren’t we a ray of sunshine.
Fine. Thanks for all your help.
My pleasure.
Sorry I can't grow two feet taller just by wishing it.
.may death never stop you.
I’m definitely more hilarious than you are right now.
We have a ladder?
Don't know, don't care
No — I just need you to reach up there and grab it for me.
Hilarious, Kat.
Get a ladder or something.
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It's Time || Trixie & Deacon
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It's Time || Trixie & Deacon
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It's Time || Trixie & Deacon
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It's Time || Trixie & Deacon
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"Unless you fall asleep while looking for them" he called after Trixie as she left the bathroom. Then Deacon realized it was too late to be shouting, even in the Killjoy hideout, that was particularly quiet that night. She came back after a couple minutes and Deacon sloshed...
Deacon stayed calm after the attack, more for Trixie's behalf than his own. She was not strong enough to get him out of the bathtub on her own, but had managed to move him into a better position. Deacon tried to make himself helpful and grabbed the edge of the tub with slippery fingers and pulled his own weight until he was sitting. “I'm fine” he said. The dull pain of his body was almost a relief after those frantic moments, but his head was throbbing. “Ouch. Mostly fine, anyway. Can you get me a towel?” he asked pressing a hand against his head, over hers. Blood was seeping through his fingers; not much, but enough to make him worry about loss of conscience and stitches and concussions. His blood looked much brighter now that what was left of water had run down the drain already. “Relax. No need to wake up the whole gang over nothing.” Deacon grabbed her other hand tentatively and moved it away from his face. He still was holding his wound, just in case. “That happened yesterday too, while you were passed out in my floor. Didn't tell you so you wouldn't freak out.” Slowly, carefully, Deacon stood up and stepped out of the shower using Trixie as support. “Muscle relaxers sound great right now.” He'd swallow any pill that promised to make him feel better in those moments, and probably anything that could send him to sleep.
Rust | Trixie + Deacon
Trixie rolled her eyes at Deacon’s request. Taking someone with her was always frustrating, as she was pretty sure she’d either gone off on or annoyed every person in the gang. Maybe she could find someone just to make Deacon feel better. Or lie. Lying was always an option too. “Sure.” She sighed into her hands, rubbing her eyes until she saw spots in the black.
"I don’t know what base it is. I could hardly read the bottles as is. Lemme go get it." Trixie left the edge of the bathtub, opening the bathroom door. She paused partway through the doorframe, poking her head back in to glare at Deacon, pointing to him and narrowing her eyes. "Don’t drown. I’ll be back." She shuffled down the hall and outside to her room. It took searching a couple of backpacks with bleary eyes to find the baggie of blue and orange pill bottles. A couple of them had the same labels, and she had five in all, but whether or not they had the base of whatever Deacon had said, she didn’t know.
Getting back to the bathroom, she sat on the edge of the bathtub again, opening the baggie and dumping the pill bottles onto the floor between her feet. “What’s wrong with… Whatever you said? Can you not have it or something?” Trixie looked at a couple of bottles before twisting around to hold one for Deacon to look at. “What about this?”
"Unless you fall asleep while looking for them" he called after Trixie as she left the bathroom. Then Deacon realized it was too late to be shouting, even in the Killjoy hideout, that was particularly quiet that night. She came back after a couple minutes and Deacon sloshed around a bit to show her how un-drowned he was.
He watched Trixie examine the bottles while he thought of a good way to answer her. "I used to take that kind of pills, before. They make you feel like a zombie and have some nasty side effects. Also, benzo withdrawal is a bitch. Remember that time I came back from Dullahan and I was... well, a general mess? That had something to do with not being on my prescription drugs anymore. I had to make do and mend with what we had around here and there weren't exactly top of the range Government meds..." Deacon cut himself off as he realised it sounded like he was excusing his behaviour, or worst, whining. "Not trying to excuse how I acted or anything, I mean, that was eighty percent me being a douchebag, twenty percent withdrawal for the cocktail of drugs they gave me. Maybe less. Around fifteen percent."
Deacon took the pill bottle she was offering him and squinted at the tiny printed letters in the label. He couldn't understand shit. "This looks like hieroglyphs to me" he sighed. "But they don't look like anything I've taken before so it should be safe" Deacon gave up trying to read the diminute lettering and stretched to hand them back to Trixie. He knew that movement had been a mistake when pain shot through his spine and his whole body spasmed. He couldn't keep in a yelp of pain when his back arched against his will, his body curving in an almost perfect C shape. Deacon kept his arms tightly pressed against his sides, unable to stop the seizure, but it passed on its own after a few seconds. When his body went limp without any warning, Deacon was too exhausted to move and just laid there.
A sharp ache in the back of his head told him he had hit it against the bathroom tiles while thrasing around and there was red spreading on the now cold water.
