Tiny clouds of dust follow the man's footsteps. Fun Ghoul smirks as Party Poison's hand lays against the holster wrapped around his thigh. The beaten brown leather gloves crease as Poison flexes hi...
The desert's dry, arid heat surges into a spiral of ablazed wind beneath the necks of the anticipant men. The voyagers stand still in neon clothing with bright-colored ray guns held in their rough, callused hands, leaning against their Trans-Am with urbane smirks on their pearly lips.
A flash of fiery-red hair flies into the vision of the significantly shorter man. He turns his head, his comrade coming into his sharp, trained vision perfectly. He unleashes a dazzling smile, showing confidence and determination in his hazel-lathered eyes.
"It's going to be all right, Party Poison."
He murmurs quietly, intertwining his thin, ivory fingers into the glove-clad hand of his companion. The worried, red-headed killjoy switches his gaze from the barren desert beyond to Fun Ghoul.
"I know, it's just this feeling in me,"
He lets out an exasperated sigh, thinking of the proper words to describe the abrasive emotions stirring wildly within him.
"I'm just so wound up; it seems, you know, it's just—ugh! Never-mind…"
Party Poison yanks his hand away from Fun Ghoul's consolidating grip. He lifts his hands to his forehead, rubbing gently at his throbbing migraine, crying out softly in pain as an ache fluctuates against his sore temples. The coarseness of the leather irritates his raw skin further, and he begins to feel sudden tears prickling though his light, hazel eyes. A silent whimper emanates from Party Poison's dry, chapped carmine lips.
"You don't know how much it hurts, Ghoul. The idea that perhaps they have their filthy hands on my brother. It frightens me beyond belief. I'm so scared."
Tears overflow in the eyelash-rimmed orbs of the young man, and quiet sniffles of worry fall from his small nose.
The smaller man's voice lifts in the heat of the desert with the growing wind to comfort Party Poison's wary notions. His jade eyes glaze over with porcelain gloss, and Fun Ghoul's mouth contorts into an angst frown.
"I'm sorry that I brought you here, Poison," he mutters, bowing his head submissively.
Party Poison shakes his vibrant-colored hair, rolling those large, bold eyes and giving a gracious, curt smile. He places leather-clad hands on his hips, grinning at his friend.
"Don't be sorry. This was bound to happen. It was nearly inevitable; running around here, thinking we'll never get caught. Someone was going to get hurt. I just hoped it wasn't my brother or any of the others. I'm still hoping."
He smiles reassuringly, more to himself than anyone else.
Party Poison flicks the vibrant strands of crimson hair out of his eyes, unaware of his companion's roaming eyes peering as the delicate locks dance along in the waves of air. Fun Ghoul smiles as he watches Party Poison tactical eyes wandering throughout the planes. Determination coats his movements, rather than grace, and he steps forward. Tall, black, leather boots send remnants of the dying little world into the breath of the atmosphere.
Tiny clouds of dust follow the man's footsteps. Fun Ghoul smirks as Party Poison's hand lays against the holster wrapped around his thigh. The beaten brown leather gloves creases as Poison flexes his slender fingers.
"C'mon, Fun Ghoul!"
The red-head's voice rises into the desolate dunes, and Fun Ghoul groans as he shifts against the rigid frame of the vehicle, moaning as the heat rushes into his face with such little movement.
"It's too fucking hot!" he moans, rubbing his throbbing forehead with his tattooed fingers.
"Fun Ghoul! Hurry up!"
Fun Ghoul whimpers adorably, jumping off the hood of the car, and sending a cloud of dust dancing around as he pats himself down with his gloves.
"Stop playing around, Fun Ghoul, you know how important this is. They have Kobra. This isn't a laughing matter, at all, dude."
Fun Ghoul rolls his emerald-shining eyes, "I know, but they're going to be okay. Dr. D is with them, and I'm sure Show Pony's making sure everything's all right. They're fine. They don't need our help. It's just standard procedure, Party."
Party Poison huffs, popping his hip out, and cocking his head.
"Ghoul, they were supposed to be back at Zone 6 by midday. It's like seven o'clock."
Fun Ghoul sighs loudly, "Okay, but if I get my ass beat one more time by a Drac, I'm kicking your pretty little butt, Party."
Party Poison smiles with his small teeth, giggling quietly as he brushes a strand of red hair, placing it behind his ears.
"Deal. We're just gonna go check on them."
"We're going into their goddamn hideout, not 'checking' on them, Poison."
Party Poison shakes his head, ignoring Fun Ghoul's stubbornness, watching his booted feet as they carry him into the desert's nameless confines. Fun Ghoul treks up the steep sand dunes, growling as hundreds of ant lion's traps catch his leather boots. He keeps close watch on the fading light and the red-head only paces ahead. Party Poison glances over his shoulder at his friend, grinning as he hisses at a large, shining scorpion crawling towards his tattering shoes.
"Fucking stupid animal thingies!"
Party Poison chuckles quietly, resuming his paced trot up the dry bank.
"Come on, Ghoul. Don't be such a killjoy."
Fun Ghoul snorts, eyeing Poison as he stomps on the small arachnid.
"Real subtle, Party."
Both smile widely at each other.
"How far are we again?" Fun Ghoul asks sleepily, rubbing at his dusty eyes with his palm.
"'Bout two miles down," replies Poison.
"Good, let's get this shit over with. I'm so fucking tired."
Party Poison grins curtly, swinging a slender arm around the latter.
"You're so annoying," he voices into Fun Ghoul's reddening ear.
"Don't fucking hug me! It's still hot!"
He pushes away from Poison's arms, frowning and crossing his arms.
"Stop cussing, Ghoul." Poison mutters amusingly.
"Well, you make me freaking angry."
Party Poison grins hugely at this, tugging on his blue leather jacket as he speaks softly.
"Oh, 'm sowwy, Frankie. Forgive me?"
Fun Ghoul's eyes widen, "You aren't supposed to call me Frankie."
Party Poison rolls his eyes dramatically, "There's nobody here. Just you and me. Now, please stop complaining."
Fun Ghoul huffs proudly, "I'm not complaining! I'm simply expressing my emotions."
"And your emotions complain."
The latter gives in to his friend, "Fine then, Poison. I'll shut up."
He crosses his arms over his sleeveless jacket, pouting like a baby child.
"You're so cute when you do that, Frank. But you're still a little whining bitch when you wanna be." Party Poison murmurs in a musical voice.
"I hate you, Poison."
"D'aww, I hate you too, buddy!"
Party Poison giggles, wrapping Fun Ghoul into a hug.
Fun Ghoul screams angrily, frowning deeply.
"You're so mean!"
"And what's it to y'a?"
"You're always thinking about dicks, huh, Frank?"
Fun Ghoul eyes widen in shock, and his arms drop to his sides as his jaw fell agape.
His neat eyebrows furrow as he stops in his tracks, staring at his taller comrade with mad eyes.
"No! That's not true!"
"Sure it is. I've seen the way you shake your ass when someone—"
Party Poison snaps his head around.
"Where's the hideout?"
"Don't change the subject, Ghoul."
Fun Ghoul trudges forward, ignoring his friend's stammering.
"Stop talking," mutters Fun Ghoul as they neared the Draculoid hideout.
The sun begins to fade beneath the bank of mist clouds, yet the heat continues to ravage at the small traveler's bodies. The hills of beaded sand give way to the solid terrain, and the humid mist lies like a wet blanket against both tired men. The horizon tints lightly with colors of harmony yet everyone and everything knows there is no such thing as harmony at times like these