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Stellarton Mines. Posts can be shorter than this, I just got carried away XD. 300+
[ic] i'm outta bullets so fuck it, i use my knife
He was such a homebody. Kansas had spent the last month exclusively within Crimson Dreams borders, and he wasn't the slightest bit stir-crazy. He had not one exploratory bone in his body. However, today something dragged him beyond the borders of his home. As he trotted through forests and fields, the snowy brute paid extra attention to his surroundings, barely aware of the direction he was going, intent on his search. What he craved was not to break away from his comfortable life in Crimson Dreams, but a new scene in which to practice his music, to gain inspiration and perhaps even compose something of his own. His guitar hung from his back by a strap he had scavenged and fashioned into a sling, bouncing against his flesh as his pace quickened with anticipation. He had just set the instrument down that morning, and already he was itching to play it again.
The guitar had easily become an obsession. Kansas loved music so deeply, and that he was able to create it himself was one of the best realizations he had ever come to. The guitar was a welcome addition to his long list of things to look forward to — just when he thought his life couldn't possibly improve any more.
At the very least, the guitar had gotten him moving today. Ordinarily he would be on his ass at this point in the day. Instead, he was out in unknown, unclaimed territory, wandering with eyes that feverishly searched high and low for the perfect spot. He turned into a small valley nestled inconspicuously between towering mountains, and it was there that he found what he was looking for (and, as he soon learned, much more). A strange break in nature was tucked in the midst of the valley. It was a stone doorway that lead deep into the very base of the mountain. Kansas rested a hand on the stone archway and stared within, baffled by the strange tunnel that seemed so out of place here. It ended in blackness beyond which he could not see.
That foreboding darkness might have turned a sensible wolf away, but something drew Kansas farther in. He stepped into the crumbling stone tunnel, blinking as the mountain swallowed him. Several feet in, he noticed something congruently strange, but separately marvelous: the echo of his footsteps. His dark lips formed a smile. Here, the light was dim, but he could still see the guitar strings perfectly. The human made cave was cozy, warmer than the frigid valley still visible through the entrance. Kansas unwound himself from his guitar strap, grinning with abandon, and sat down upon the cold stone floor. He stretched his fingers, cracked a few knuckles, and sighed. Then, he strummed the guitar, awed by its beautiful amplified sound, a sound that engulfed him as never before.