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06-30-2016, 05:41 PM
“Ah… ACHOO…!”
Bleary, watery, bloodshot eyes peel open lethargically, stinging beneath the golden laser-beams burning down from the heavens, and each breath inhaled, rattled loudly before reaching a sheer wall of snot spewing down from irritated sinuses.
“Oh, no… G… CHOO!”
A delicate spray of bright green infection (probably brimming with wriggling, ravenous little health-eaters) surrounded him, lifting like melting fog into the atmosphere. Banjo sat tiredly, resting upon bunched hindquarters and reached with a free hand to rip a handful of crisp grassy stalks from the meadow. “Ugh…” he grumbled miserably as he wiped his runny nose; there was just no feeling quite as rotten as the pressure of a head-cold in spring, when it was hot.
Lifting his pounding head into the still air, the buck searched for a tree, thistle, hole… anything to bury himself under for at least a year.
Aside from him, the rolling region appeared to be rather empty (there was a black horse some distance away, a bird calling somewhere in the long grass out of view), and he figured that his brain cells were undoubtedly being eaten away by savage virus bugs; everyone else had sense enough to escape into the shade. Slowly he began his retreat, muscles screaming objectionably with each step taken. In that moment he considered lying down and surrendering his pitiful existence to the haze of flies also hounding him, though instead he paused, packed his lungs, squeezed eyelashes tightly together and … … sighed heavily… “Oh c’mon. really?”
So being ripped off a sneeze was about the only thing worse than having a cold.
He continued along slothfully, apathetically, until he happened upon another sun-dweller. His gaze lifted to regard ‘bird-horse’ who was a darn sight kinder to look at the the glare everywhere else, and a half-hearted smile graced his expression; any day prior and poor Banjo might have tripped over himself to pal up with the stranger. “G’day…” he mumbled, trying to force some enthusiasm into the rather bland greeting, “...name's … ACHOO!” Snot sprayed outwards around him in a brilliantly perfect arc. “Oh, dammit… sorry mate, my bad.” He lifted an arm to wipe the slimy, oozing leftovers from sniffling nostrils before peering down at it, "Yuck man..."
Plots | The Unbound | Absences
I run just like this!
Please tag me in openers and spars.
Feel free to flog n magic me, mild power play is also fine.
Text in the profile and posts reflects stereotypical ocker slang - don’t knock it mate!
I run just like this!
Please tag me in openers and spars.
Feel free to flog n magic me, mild power play is also fine.
Text in the profile and posts reflects stereotypical ocker slang - don’t knock it mate!
