Cowboy John

Strangely, the sand didn't seem to get in the way, simply falling away from his bloodstained robes and wound, despite the fact it should have been caked on by then.

(@poor-sinner)

[ Cowboy John stood by a cactus, shaving off the spines on one of its arms using a blade made from bone. He whistles to himself as if this is an everyday thing which, knowing him, it probably was. ]

[ Before he actually gets to cutting the cactus’ arm off, he pauses, hearing the sound of something—or in this case, someone—moving through the sand. John turns around to see another sinner. The first thing he notices is how injured he is, and instinctively ran over to help, completely forgetting about the blade in his hand. ]

“Aye! Wh-what happened to ya?!”

[ John tucked his blade into a pouch on his belt before crouching down to pick up the sinner, careful of any injuries. ]

Although his skin felt clammy, and he was showing signs of blood loss, he wasn't pale at all, and blood kept slowly dripping from the wound. It was as if he somehow had an endless supply of it.

Damnit..

[ He inhaled and deeply exhaled, shifting his hold on the sinner so he could get a good grip on it. ]

I’m gonna need ya to hold onto me, as tight as y’can, alright?

[ Grabbing the dagger’s handle, he carefully pulled it out, making sure he didn’t make the wound worse than it already was. ]

"AA-AAAA-AAA-AANHHH--!" -he screamed, kicking, his voice cracking.

Then, he made a quiet, pained, choking sound. The dagger's barbs had caught on his guts, pulling them out partially along with it.

[ John wasn’t the best at comforting others in times like these, his words came out a little rough. ]

You’ll be fine.

[ He then shifted his hold on him once more, now to make sure he was a little comfortable and was still pressing down on the handkerchief. ]

"hnn... hnnn..." His breathing was strained, and his eyes were barely open, but he was alive.

He would always be alive.

Occasionally, he would spit up some blood, which would stain the sand.

[ They passed dunes, tumbleweeds, and countless amounts of cacti. Vultures occasionally flew overhead. ]

..

[ And after what felt like ages, a bit of greenery could be seen in the distance. It wasn’t the usual dusty-green that a cactus would have, it was lush. ]

While he didn't look pale, he felt cold and clammy, like he had lost a lot of blood... but he was still bleeding at the same rate he had been.

His vision was too blurry and unfocused to know where he was.

[ The sound of water gently splashing becomes more audible with each step John takes. ]

[ He stepped through the shrubs, finally making it to his goal. An oasis. ]

We’re here. How’re ya holdin’ up?

"...hh... hhCCK--" The sinner promptly threw up a concerning amount of his own blood. He was not doing well.

The wound wasn't festering or infected, but it was still bleeding horribly. His guts were visible, and were almost slipping out again. He was quivering in pain, and would occasionally yelp, whimper, or kick, acting as if the dagger were still inside him. "...nnnhhh."

..Definitely not good, then.

[ He covered the wound back up and pressed down as much as he could without causing more damage. ]

[ He needed a plan, and fast. His cabin was just a small walk away.. ]

The distant sound of chains rattling echoed through the desert.

"Sinner!~ Where are youuuu...~"

A singsong voice was approaching.

Ack-! What the-

[ John froze upon hearing the chains. He was already having a bad feeling about this.. ]

"She's here."

The smell of burning flesh filled the area as his wound... somehow closed itself, leaving a faint scar. Then, the scar faded, leaving him fully healed, as if nothing had happened. Perhaps He was giving him a running chance.

[ He stared at the other for a few seconds before remembering the situation they’re in, and standing up. He tucked the handkerchief he used into his pocket, ignoring the fact that it was drenched in blood. ]

Uh- Right.

[ All of his questions would probably be answered later. For now, they had to run. ]

I know a few places ‘round here, hopefully it’ll be safe from.. whoever this “she” is. C’mon.

"(huff) (puff) Slow DOWN-!"

The chains were close. She was right behind him. He tried running faster.

Looking back - she was RIGHT THERE - was all it took for him to miss the buried ruins just ahead. His boot caught on a corner of sandstone.

Then he fell.

"SHIT--" He scrambled to get up, but was grabbed by his collar and lifted into the air. "GHN- LET ME GO!" he yelped, kicking at the air.

[ He skidded to a halt, pushing up sand as he did so, and looked back only to see the sinner being held up by Ire. ]

Ah crap!

[ John ran back a distance, but when he got close enough he slowed down to sneak behind a nearby chunk of sandstone. ]

"g-ghnn--..." He whimpered quietly as it was forced in, first a third of the way, then halfway. Blood was flowing from the wound already, pooling onto the ground.

Then, she shoved the Deggur hilt-deep, making him twitch, and twisted it with a sickening CRUNCH, forcing a choked shriek out of him. "aAGHHKK--..."

She tilted the Deggur upwards sharply, and he went limp, occasionally kicking or quietly yelping as she manipulated the blade to cause him further pain. The sandstone was now covered in wet spatters of blood and tears.

Eugh..

[ He turned away, back to sandstone, slowly sliding down into a sitting position, with his knees pulled up to his chest.. ]

Strangely, the sand didn't seem to get in the way, simply falling away from his bloodstained robes and wound, despite the fact it should have been caked on by then.

(@poor-sinner)

[ Cowboy John stood by a cactus, shaving off the spines on one of its arms using a blade made from bone. He whistles to himself as if this is an everyday thing which, knowing him, it probably was. ]

[ Before he actually gets to cutting the cactus’ arm off, he pauses, hearing the sound of something—or in this case, someone—moving through the sand. John turns around to see another sinner. The first thing he notices is how injured he is, and instinctively ran over to help, completely forgetting about the blade in his hand. ]

“Aye! Wh-what happened to ya?!”

[ John tucked his blade into a pouch on his belt before crouching down to pick up the sinner, careful of any injuries. ]

Although his skin felt clammy, and he was showing signs of blood loss, he wasn't pale at all, and blood kept slowly dripping from the wound. It was as if he somehow had an endless supply of it.

Damnit..

[ He inhaled and deeply exhaled, shifting his hold on the sinner so he could get a good grip on it. ]

I’m gonna need ya to hold onto me, as tight as y’can, alright?

[ Grabbing the dagger’s handle, he carefully pulled it out, making sure he didn’t make the wound worse than it already was. ]

"AA-AAAA-AAA-AANHHH--!" -he screamed, kicking, his voice cracking.

Then, he made a quiet, pained, choking sound. The dagger's barbs had caught on his guts, pulling them out partially along with it.

[ John wasn’t the best at comforting others in times like these, his words came out a little rough. ]

You’ll be fine.

[ He then shifted his hold on him once more, now to make sure he was a little comfortable and was still pressing down on the handkerchief. ]

"hnn... hnnn..." His breathing was strained, and his eyes were barely open, but he was alive.

He would always be alive.

Occasionally, he would spit up some blood, which would stain the sand.

[ They passed dunes, tumbleweeds, and countless amounts of cacti. Vultures occasionally flew overhead. ]

..

[ And after what felt like ages, a bit of greenery could be seen in the distance. It wasn’t the usual dusty-green that a cactus would have, it was lush. ]

While he didn't look pale, he felt cold and clammy, like he had lost a lot of blood... but he was still bleeding at the same rate he had been.

His vision was too blurry and unfocused to know where he was.

[ The sound of water gently splashing becomes more audible with each step John takes. ]

[ He stepped through the shrubs, finally making it to his goal. An oasis. ]

We’re here. How’re ya holdin’ up?

"...hh... hhCCK--" The sinner promptly threw up a concerning amount of his own blood. He was not doing well.

The wound wasn't festering or infected, but it was still bleeding horribly. His guts were visible, and were almost slipping out again. He was quivering in pain, and would occasionally yelp, whimper, or kick, acting as if the dagger were still inside him. "...nnnhhh."

..Definitely not good, then.

[ He covered the wound back up and pressed down as much as he could without causing more damage. ]

[ He needed a plan, and fast. His cabin was just a small walk away.. ]

The distant sound of chains rattling echoed through the desert.

"Sinner!~ Where are youuuu...~"

A singsong voice was approaching.

Ack-! What the-

[ John froze upon hearing the chains. He was already having a bad feeling about this.. ]

"She's here."

The smell of burning flesh filled the area as his wound... somehow closed itself, leaving a faint scar. Then, the scar faded, leaving him fully healed, as if nothing had happened. Perhaps He was giving him a running chance.

[ He stared at the other for a few seconds before remembering the situation they’re in, and standing up. He tucked the handkerchief he used into his pocket, ignoring the fact that it was drenched in blood. ]

Uh- Right.

[ All of his questions would probably be answered later. For now, they had to run. ]

I know a few places ‘round here, hopefully it’ll be safe from.. whoever this “she” is. C’mon.

"(huff) (puff) Slow DOWN-!"

The chains were close. She was right behind him. He tried running faster.

Looking back - she was RIGHT THERE - was all it took for him to miss the buried ruins just ahead. His boot caught on a corner of sandstone.

Then he fell.

"SHIT--" He scrambled to get up, but was grabbed by his collar and lifted into the air. "GHN- LET ME GO!" he yelped, kicking at the air.

[ He skidded to a halt, pushing up sand as he did so, and looked back only to see the sinner being held up by Ire. ]

Ah crap!

[ John ran back a distance, but when he got close enough he slowed down to sneak behind a nearby chunk of sandstone. ]

Strangely, the sand didn't seem to get in the way, simply falling away from his bloodstained robes and wound, despite the fact it should have been caked on by then.

(@poor-sinner)

[ Cowboy John stood by a cactus, shaving off the spines on one of its arms using a blade made from bone. He whistles to himself as if this is an everyday thing which, knowing him, it probably was. ]

[ Before he actually gets to cutting the cactus’ arm off, he pauses, hearing the sound of something—or in this case, someone—moving through the sand. John turns around to see another sinner. The first thing he notices is how injured he is, and instinctively ran over to help, completely forgetting about the blade in his hand. ]

“Aye! Wh-what happened to ya?!”

[ John tucked his blade into a pouch on his belt before crouching down to pick up the sinner, careful of any injuries. ]

Although his skin felt clammy, and he was showing signs of blood loss, he wasn't pale at all, and blood kept slowly dripping from the wound. It was as if he somehow had an endless supply of it.

Damnit..

[ He inhaled and deeply exhaled, shifting his hold on the sinner so he could get a good grip on it. ]

I’m gonna need ya to hold onto me, as tight as y’can, alright?

[ Grabbing the dagger’s handle, he carefully pulled it out, making sure he didn’t make the wound worse than it already was. ]

"AA-AAAA-AAA-AANHHH--!" -he screamed, kicking, his voice cracking.

Then, he made a quiet, pained, choking sound. The dagger's barbs had caught on his guts, pulling them out partially along with it.

[ John wasn’t the best at comforting others in times like these, his words came out a little rough. ]

You’ll be fine.

[ He then shifted his hold on him once more, now to make sure he was a little comfortable and was still pressing down on the handkerchief. ]

"hnn... hnnn..." His breathing was strained, and his eyes were barely open, but he was alive.

He would always be alive.

Occasionally, he would spit up some blood, which would stain the sand.

[ They passed dunes, tumbleweeds, and countless amounts of cacti. Vultures occasionally flew overhead. ]

..

[ And after what felt like ages, a bit of greenery could be seen in the distance. It wasn’t the usual dusty-green that a cactus would have, it was lush. ]

While he didn't look pale, he felt cold and clammy, like he had lost a lot of blood... but he was still bleeding at the same rate he had been.

His vision was too blurry and unfocused to know where he was.

[ The sound of water gently splashing becomes more audible with each step John takes. ]

[ He stepped through the shrubs, finally making it to his goal. An oasis. ]

We’re here. How’re ya holdin’ up?

"...hh... hhCCK--" The sinner promptly threw up a concerning amount of his own blood. He was not doing well.

The wound wasn't festering or infected, but it was still bleeding horribly. His guts were visible, and were almost slipping out again. He was quivering in pain, and would occasionally yelp, whimper, or kick, acting as if the dagger were still inside him. "...nnnhhh."

..Definitely not good, then.

[ He covered the wound back up and pressed down as much as he could without causing more damage. ]

[ He needed a plan, and fast. His cabin was just a small walk away.. ]

The distant sound of chains rattling echoed through the desert.

"Sinner!~ Where are youuuu...~"

A singsong voice was approaching.

Ack-! What the-

[ John froze upon hearing the chains. He was already having a bad feeling about this.. ]

"She's here."

The smell of burning flesh filled the area as his wound... somehow closed itself, leaving a faint scar. Then, the scar faded, leaving him fully healed, as if nothing had happened. Perhaps He was giving him a running chance.

[ He stared at the other for a few seconds before remembering the situation they’re in, and standing up. He tucked the handkerchief he used into his pocket, ignoring the fact that it was drenched in blood. ]

Uh- Right.

[ All of his questions would probably be answered later. For now, they had to run. ]

I know a few places ‘round here, hopefully it’ll be safe from.. whoever this “she” is. C’mon.

~ @fallfrom-grace

Eh?

[ John held up the flower, trying to get a better look at it in the desert sun.. ]

Never seen a flower like this.. Hm.

[ John continues, now trying to take out the thorns despite the pain. ]

Strangely, the sand didn't seem to get in the way, simply falling away from his bloodstained robes and wound, despite the fact it should have been caked on by then.

(@poor-sinner)

[ Cowboy John stood by a cactus, shaving off the spines on one of its arms using a blade made from bone. He whistles to himself as if this is an everyday thing which, knowing him, it probably was. ]

[ Before he actually gets to cutting the cactus’ arm off, he pauses, hearing the sound of something—or in this case, someone—moving through the sand. John turns around to see another sinner. The first thing he notices is how injured he is, and instinctively ran over to help, completely forgetting about the blade in his hand. ]

“Aye! Wh-what happened to ya?!”

[ John tucked his blade into a pouch on his belt before crouching down to pick up the sinner, careful of any injuries. ]

Although his skin felt clammy, and he was showing signs of blood loss, he wasn't pale at all, and blood kept slowly dripping from the wound. It was as if he somehow had an endless supply of it.

Damnit..

[ He inhaled and deeply exhaled, shifting his hold on the sinner so he could get a good grip on it. ]

I’m gonna need ya to hold onto me, as tight as y’can, alright?

[ Grabbing the dagger’s handle, he carefully pulled it out, making sure he didn’t make the wound worse than it already was. ]

"AA-AAAA-AAA-AANHHH--!" -he screamed, kicking, his voice cracking.

Then, he made a quiet, pained, choking sound. The dagger's barbs had caught on his guts, pulling them out partially along with it.

[ John wasn’t the best at comforting others in times like these, his words came out a little rough. ]

You’ll be fine.

[ He then shifted his hold on him once more, now to make sure he was a little comfortable and was still pressing down on the handkerchief. ]

"hnn... hnnn..." His breathing was strained, and his eyes were barely open, but he was alive.

He would always be alive.

Occasionally, he would spit up some blood, which would stain the sand.

[ They passed dunes, tumbleweeds, and countless amounts of cacti. Vultures occasionally flew overhead. ]

..

[ And after what felt like ages, a bit of greenery could be seen in the distance. It wasn’t the usual dusty-green that a cactus would have, it was lush. ]

While he didn't look pale, he felt cold and clammy, like he had lost a lot of blood... but he was still bleeding at the same rate he had been.

His vision was too blurry and unfocused to know where he was.

[ The sound of water gently splashing becomes more audible with each step John takes. ]

[ He stepped through the shrubs, finally making it to his goal. An oasis. ]

We’re here. How’re ya holdin’ up?

"...hh... hhCCK--" The sinner promptly threw up a concerning amount of his own blood. He was not doing well.

The wound wasn't festering or infected, but it was still bleeding horribly. His guts were visible, and were almost slipping out again. He was quivering in pain, and would occasionally yelp, whimper, or kick, acting as if the dagger were still inside him. "...nnnhhh."

..Definitely not good, then.

[ He covered the wound back up and pressed down as much as he could without causing more damage. ]

[ He needed a plan, and fast. His cabin was just a small walk away.. ]

The distant sound of chains rattling echoed through the desert.

"Sinner!~ Where are youuuu...~"

A singsong voice was approaching.

Ack-! What the-

[ John froze upon hearing the chains. He was already having a bad feeling about this.. ]

~ @fallfrom-grace

Eh?

[ John held up the flower, trying to get a better look at it in the desert sun.. ]

Never seen a flower like this.. Hm.

Strangely, the sand didn't seem to get in the way, simply falling away from his bloodstained robes and wound, despite the fact it should have been caked on by then.

(@poor-sinner)

[ Cowboy John stood by a cactus, shaving off the spines on one of its arms using a blade made from bone. He whistles to himself as if this is an everyday thing which, knowing him, it probably was. ]

[ Before he actually gets to cutting the cactus’ arm off, he pauses, hearing the sound of something—or in this case, someone—moving through the sand. John turns around to see another sinner. The first thing he notices is how injured he is, and instinctively ran over to help, completely forgetting about the blade in his hand. ]

“Aye! Wh-what happened to ya?!”

[ John tucked his blade into a pouch on his belt before crouching down to pick up the sinner, careful of any injuries. ]

Although his skin felt clammy, and he was showing signs of blood loss, he wasn't pale at all, and blood kept slowly dripping from the wound. It was as if he somehow had an endless supply of it.

Damnit..

[ He inhaled and deeply exhaled, shifting his hold on the sinner so he could get a good grip on it. ]

I’m gonna need ya to hold onto me, as tight as y’can, alright?

[ Grabbing the dagger’s handle, he carefully pulled it out, making sure he didn’t make the wound worse than it already was. ]

"AA-AAAA-AAA-AANHHH--!" -he screamed, kicking, his voice cracking.

Then, he made a quiet, pained, choking sound. The dagger's barbs had caught on his guts, pulling them out partially along with it.

[ John wasn’t the best at comforting others in times like these, his words came out a little rough. ]

You’ll be fine.

[ He then shifted his hold on him once more, now to make sure he was a little comfortable and was still pressing down on the handkerchief. ]

"hnn... hnnn..." His breathing was strained, and his eyes were barely open, but he was alive.

He would always be alive.

Occasionally, he would spit up some blood, which would stain the sand.

[ They passed dunes, tumbleweeds, and countless amounts of cacti. Vultures occasionally flew overhead. ]

..

[ And after what felt like ages, a bit of greenery could be seen in the distance. It wasn’t the usual dusty-green that a cactus would have, it was lush. ]

While he didn't look pale, he felt cold and clammy, like he had lost a lot of blood... but he was still bleeding at the same rate he had been.

His vision was too blurry and unfocused to know where he was.

[ The sound of water gently splashing becomes more audible with each step John takes. ]

[ He stepped through the shrubs, finally making it to his goal. An oasis. ]

We’re here. How’re ya holdin’ up?

"...hh... hhCCK--" The sinner promptly threw up a concerning amount of his own blood. He was not doing well.

The wound wasn't festering or infected, but it was still bleeding horribly. His guts were visible, and were almost slipping out again. He was quivering in pain, and would occasionally yelp, whimper, or kick, acting as if the dagger were still inside him. "...nnnhhh."

..Definitely not good, then.

[ He covered the wound back up and pressed down as much as he could without causing more damage. ]

[ He needed a plan, and fast. His cabin was just a small walk away.. ]

Strangely, the sand didn't seem to get in the way, simply falling away from his bloodstained robes and wound, despite the fact it should have been caked on by then.

(@poor-sinner)

[ Cowboy John stood by a cactus, shaving off the spines on one of its arms using a blade made from bone. He whistles to himself as if this is an everyday thing which, knowing him, it probably was. ]

[ Before he actually gets to cutting the cactus’ arm off, he pauses, hearing the sound of something—or in this case, someone—moving through the sand. John turns around to see another sinner. The first thing he notices is how injured he is, and instinctively ran over to help, completely forgetting about the blade in his hand. ]

“Aye! Wh-what happened to ya?!”

[ John tucked his blade into a pouch on his belt before crouching down to pick up the sinner, careful of any injuries. ]

Although his skin felt clammy, and he was showing signs of blood loss, he wasn't pale at all, and blood kept slowly dripping from the wound. It was as if he somehow had an endless supply of it.

Damnit..

[ He inhaled and deeply exhaled, shifting his hold on the sinner so he could get a good grip on it. ]

I’m gonna need ya to hold onto me, as tight as y’can, alright?

[ Grabbing the dagger’s handle, he carefully pulled it out, making sure he didn’t make the wound worse than it already was. ]

"AA-AAAA-AAA-AANHHH--!" -he screamed, kicking, his voice cracking.

Then, he made a quiet, pained, choking sound. The dagger's barbs had caught on his guts, pulling them out partially along with it.

[ John wasn’t the best at comforting others in times like these, his words came out a little rough. ]

You’ll be fine.

[ He then shifted his hold on him once more, now to make sure he was a little comfortable and was still pressing down on the handkerchief. ]

"hnn... hnnn..." His breathing was strained, and his eyes were barely open, but he was alive.

He would always be alive.

Occasionally, he would spit up some blood, which would stain the sand.

[ They passed dunes, tumbleweeds, and countless amounts of cacti. Vultures occasionally flew overhead. ]

..

[ And after what felt like ages, a bit of greenery could be seen in the distance. It wasn’t the usual dusty-green that a cactus would have, it was lush. ]

While he didn't look pale, he felt cold and clammy, like he had lost a lot of blood... but he was still bleeding at the same rate he had been.

His vision was too blurry and unfocused to know where he was.

[ The sound of water gently splashing becomes more audible with each step John takes. ]

[ He stepped through the shrubs, finally making it to his goal. An oasis. ]

We’re here. How’re ya holdin’ up?

Strangely, the sand didn't seem to get in the way, simply falling away from his bloodstained robes and wound, despite the fact it should have been caked on by then.

(@poor-sinner)

[ Cowboy John stood by a cactus, shaving off the spines on one of its arms using a blade made from bone. He whistles to himself as if this is an everyday thing which, knowing him, it probably was. ]

[ Before he actually gets to cutting the cactus’ arm off, he pauses, hearing the sound of something—or in this case, someone—moving through the sand. John turns around to see another sinner. The first thing he notices is how injured he is, and instinctively ran over to help, completely forgetting about the blade in his hand. ]

“Aye! Wh-what happened to ya?!”

[ John tucked his blade into a pouch on his belt before crouching down to pick up the sinner, careful of any injuries. ]

Although his skin felt clammy, and he was showing signs of blood loss, he wasn't pale at all, and blood kept slowly dripping from the wound. It was as if he somehow had an endless supply of it.

Damnit..

[ He inhaled and deeply exhaled, shifting his hold on the sinner so he could get a good grip on it. ]

I’m gonna need ya to hold onto me, as tight as y’can, alright?

[ Grabbing the dagger’s handle, he carefully pulled it out, making sure he didn’t make the wound worse than it already was. ]

"AA-AAAA-AAA-AANHHH--!" -he screamed, kicking, his voice cracking.

Then, he made a quiet, pained, choking sound. The dagger's barbs had caught on his guts, pulling them out partially along with it.

[ John wasn’t the best at comforting others in times like these, his words came out a little rough. ]

You’ll be fine.

[ He then shifted his hold on him once more, now to make sure he was a little comfortable and was still pressing down on the handkerchief. ]

"hnn... hnnn..." His breathing was strained, and his eyes were barely open, but he was alive.

He would always be alive.

Occasionally, he would spit up some blood, which would stain the sand.

[ They passed dunes, tumbleweeds, and countless amounts of cacti. Vultures occasionally flew overhead. ]

..

[ And after what felt like ages, a bit of greenery could be seen in the distance. It wasn’t the usual dusty-green that a cactus would have, it was lush. ]

Strangely, the sand didn't seem to get in the way, simply falling away from his bloodstained robes and wound, despite the fact it should have been caked on by then.

(@poor-sinner)

[ Cowboy John stood by a cactus, shaving off the spines on one of its arms using a blade made from bone. He whistles to himself as if this is an everyday thing which, knowing him, it probably was. ]

[ Before he actually gets to cutting the cactus’ arm off, he pauses, hearing the sound of something—or in this case, someone—moving through the sand. John turns around to see another sinner. The first thing he notices is how injured he is, and instinctively ran over to help, completely forgetting about the blade in his hand. ]

“Aye! Wh-what happened to ya?!”

[ John tucked his blade into a pouch on his belt before crouching down to pick up the sinner, careful of any injuries. ]

Although his skin felt clammy, and he was showing signs of blood loss, he wasn't pale at all, and blood kept slowly dripping from the wound. It was as if he somehow had an endless supply of it.

Damnit..

[ He inhaled and deeply exhaled, shifting his hold on the sinner so he could get a good grip on it. ]

I’m gonna need ya to hold onto me, as tight as y’can, alright?

[ Grabbing the dagger’s handle, he carefully pulled it out, making sure he didn’t make the wound worse than it already was. ]

"AA-AAAA-AAA-AANHHH--!" -he screamed, kicking, his voice cracking.

Then, he made a quiet, pained, choking sound. The dagger's barbs had caught on his guts, pulling them out partially along with it.

[ John wasn’t the best at comforting others in times like these, his words came out a little rough. ]

You’ll be fine.

[ He then shifted his hold on him once more, now to make sure he was a little comfortable and was still pressing down on the handkerchief. ]

Strangely, the sand didn't seem to get in the way, simply falling away from his bloodstained robes and wound, despite the fact it should have been caked on by then.

(@poor-sinner)

[ Cowboy John stood by a cactus, shaving off the spines on one of its arms using a blade made from bone. He whistles to himself as if this is an everyday thing which, knowing him, it probably was. ]

[ Before he actually gets to cutting the cactus’ arm off, he pauses, hearing the sound of something—or in this case, someone—moving through the sand. John turns around to see another sinner. The first thing he notices is how injured he is, and instinctively ran over to help, completely forgetting about the blade in his hand. ]

“Aye! Wh-what happened to ya?!”

[ John tucked his blade into a pouch on his belt before crouching down to pick up the sinner, careful of any injuries. ]

Although his skin felt clammy, and he was showing signs of blood loss, he wasn't pale at all, and blood kept slowly dripping from the wound. It was as if he somehow had an endless supply of it.

Damnit..

[ He inhaled and deeply exhaled, shifting his hold on the sinner so he could get a good grip on it. ]

I’m gonna need ya to hold onto me, as tight as y’can, alright?

[ Grabbing the dagger’s handle, he carefully pulled it out, making sure he didn’t make the wound worse than it already was. ]

Strangely, the sand didn't seem to get in the way, simply falling away from his bloodstained robes and wound, despite the fact it should have been caked on by then.

(@poor-sinner)

[ Cowboy John stood by a cactus, shaving off the spines on one of its arms using a blade made from bone. He whistles to himself as if this is an everyday thing which, knowing him, it probably was. ]

[ Before he actually gets to cutting the cactus’ arm off, he pauses, hearing the sound of something—or in this case, someone—moving through the sand. John turns around to see another sinner. The first thing he notices is how injured he is, and instinctively ran over to help, completely forgetting about the blade in his hand. ]

“Aye! Wh-what happened to ya?!”

[ John tucked his blade into a pouch on his belt before crouching down to pick up the sinner, careful of any injuries. ]

Although his skin felt clammy, and he was showing signs of blood loss, he wasn't pale at all, and blood kept slowly dripping from the wound. It was as if he somehow had an endless supply of it.

Damnit..

[ He inhaled and deeply exhaled, shifting his hold on the sinner so he could get a good grip on it. ]

I’m gonna need ya to hold onto me, as tight as y’can, alright?