[P] [M] put it up, make it shine
Wayne
#1

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Ooc: Wordtober Day 1: concoction

It smelled of fall, when he put his nose to the air and look himself a big lungful. John grimaced, he didn’t much relish the thought of the upcoming winter and the concoction of ice and snow and temperatures cold enough to freeze the balls off a snowwolf.

Clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth thoughtfully John turned and headed back inside to his happily crackling fire. Slapping his ass down against the wooden chair and stretching his feet out towards the flames John let his mind wander, arms crossed over his chest.

Whole lotta things were sure different this year than had been happening in the last one, his dark lips turned downwards against his thoughts, Ronnie...

It still hurt. Unbidden he shifted his arms and pressed a hand to the scar over his heart, fingers clenching st the thin fur.

A brusque sigh worked between his teeth. His body ached in far more ways than it had done the summer before. He was staring down the locked and loaded barrel of old and wasn’t that a boot to the stones. Threads of silvery hairs colored his dark mop that hung in droves, longer now than it has been, brushing the tops of his shoulders.

Tipping his head back, he shut his eyes and groaned into the solitude. He should get his lazy ass up and do something but right that moment John felt like serving himself a nice heaped helping of ‘nu-uh, I ain’t doin’ shit.’



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#2
Ooc here
“Yer nev'r gonna take me alive!” Seaborne hollered as he clawed at the ground with reaching paws while his father gripped him at his waist.

Eusebia, with such perfect timing as to pass with a basket of fabric on her way back to the Inn, gasped as mud splattered on her skirt.

Wayne and Seaborne both froze. A pair of pale blue sights reached slowly over to the woman.

In her eye sat a a fury that no mortal could attain. Fists clenched at her sides with shoulders peaked high, heavy breaths slipped from her agape maw. It was quiet for a long moment before Bee's eyes closed tight. A hand jerked up and a finger pointed to John's house, “Go. Now!”

Seaborne's young, pleading eyes looked up to his mother, but as he opened his maw to apologize, she let a growl loose that stopped any words from forming.

“Alright, alright, Missy, don't get your muddy frock in a twist,” Wayne released his son with every instance of the innocent game, that Sea's mother had ruined, completely gone. Why couldn't she be a normal woman like her sister?

“Go!” Her voice rose up into near a screech that grated the very skin of those she addressed.

Wayne grumbled a bit while Seaborne's tail curled, but he wasn't going to let that ruin the boy's day. Next time a mud wrestle opportunity came up, he was going to make sure it was a good one. No boy should be expected to be pristine all the time. There were times for clean collars, but this wasn't one of them, “C'mon son, let's go torture yer Uncle,” With a gravely hum of a laugh, he helped the boy up into a proper stance and waved and hand onward to John' bunaglo. Seaborne set off, but he turned back to the fuming Bee, “You fashion yer son as distant as his father, yer bound to die 'lone. Ya'know that, right?”

Eusebia's fury was not so keen to listen to the words that were spoken, but he could in her eye that she had heard him. The way her pupils darted across his features, and then fell to the son that moped away. She didn't have any words for him, but to prove her anger was still high enough, her finger gestured again.

Wayne didn't have any reason to listen to her, but he did pull his hat from his head and slapped it on his leg. Mud flicked the ground below him, but blue eyes didn't move from the fire of her own. With a 'hmpf' she turned and marched away. Wayne shook his head.

He turned around and moseyed his way in the wet leavings of his son's prints, “Y'ready to cause some trouble at Ol' John's?” He grinned as he pulled up to Seaborne's flank. The boy shook his head. Seemed like the piss was taken clean out of him. Wayne's lips pursed and pulled to the side as a though crossed him, “I bet John would help us get you cleaned up?”

Seaborne's mournful eye finally left the road at their feet, “Y'think so?”

“I know so, kid,” A hand rustled the flopped ears atop Sea's head, and together they marched on.

At John's door, there came some muttering. Some whispers. Some delightful snickers and loud shush. Quiet then beheld the place behind the door, until a couple of knocks resounded through the wood. Little did he know, but when he came to answer the door, he was going to get a muddy body slam from an excited nephew.

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#3
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Ooc: 
Aging he might be, he wasn't close to deaf yet, and only someone with twenty sacks of wool in their ears would miss the mutterings and whispers going on at his door.

The snickering, and a loud shush convinced him though. Lips turning upwards at their edges, John called into the empty room with is awaiting visitors,

"Well gee, Ah wunder who that is there at m'door. Sure hope it ain't some Missionaries come t'turn me t'Lord's ways. Y'know I ain't much of a believer no more." A quiet chuckle wormed its way past yellowing teeth, wobbling his cigarette up and down with its expression.

Pinching the burning little brand off, he set it down on the table and hauled himself upright with an exaggerated groan, one his awaiting guests would be sure to hear.

"Though," He called out again, as his footsteps came closer and closer, "Might be Ah've thought 'bout endin' m'heathen ways, n' repentin'."

Fat damned chance of that.

Hand upon his door now, he pulled it open to reveal his kinder surprise, and hoo boy what a surprise it was.

A whole bundle of muddy, lanky yote child came barreling straight at him with all the energy of Obstinado when he realized there was a tasty treat waiting for him.

His ass made a thump against the floor, a none too pleasant sensation racing up his spine, but John was laughing, his arms coming around to envelop the youngster who was probably happily smearing more mud onto him by the second.

"Well sh-i-i-e-t. Wayne quick, call th'exterminator, we got ourselves an infestation of mud!!"

John's cries for assistance, broken by his laughing, probably didn't conjure up much sympathy in the heart of the ex-ranger. Fact of the matter or no, John was never unhappy to see his nephew.



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#4
Ooc here

[Image: heashot.png]Wayne and Seaborne stood behind the door, out of sight save for their shadows that might creep beneath from the light of day. It seemed that John was on to them, by the way he spoke, but that didn't deter the two that laid in wait behind the window. Wayne put a hand on the boy's shoulder to help him hold steady as the footsteps of his uncle drew across the room within. As usual, John was spouting some wild nonsense and Wayne shook his head to it, trying his best not to give them away with his signature laugh.

Just as the steps neared the door, Wayne loosed his hand on the boy, and all at once chaos ensued. John opened the door and in a flash Seaborne was off of his feet and on Uncle John. He'd practically painted the man with mud, all the while slapping the auburn face with his tongue for a warm, if not messy, welcome.

Wayne stood to his feet and let loose the laugh that he'd trapped, wheezing as he entered the room. Hands tucked into his pockets, shoulders lurched as he leaned forward to watch John suffer his son's onslaught of filth, “See, son? Uncle John knows hot tuh'have'a good time.”

Finally chipper enough to let a laugh out, Seaborne kindly relented and tucked his paws beneath him. He rolled off of John to the floor at his side, and buried his face into the man's neck, giving the loose skin a good chew before rolling away completely, “Pa' says I need'a bath,” It seemed his sour mood had nearly completely recovered.

“Don't we all,” Wayne turned his head back to laugh and meandered around the house, looking around it a bit with a thought on his mind, “Fancy a wash, John? I know yuh need one, ya'greasy bastard.”

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#5
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Ooc: 
These were moments he lived for, when laughter came easily and freely, and joy bubbled there in the ragged depths of his chest. It was worth it, all of it, for times like this.

"Aye, ain't no better time n'a muddy one." In more ways than one, but Seaborne didn't need to know the less than innocent reasonings just yet. The boy was still young enough to slide by under the barrier of puberty.

Muddied, saliva-covered, wet and dirty, and now chewed upon, John was just as much a sight as the boy and his father. Though now both existed with their smiles and laughter, there was a sense that lingered, of a recent discontent, and John only had to look Wayne in the face to pick its depth up. Who else that could put the acid of vinegar into the two of them alike than the one they were both connected by. The Bitch, herself.

John wrinkled his nose, scrunched up his face and stuck out his tongue. Yup, he had mud streaked onto his tongue too.

"Well, son, we can't always be spendin' our lives as muddy as we want. Sumtimes y'gotta clean up." Tweaking the young boys nose, John took himself to his feet with an old man's groan, his knees popping something awful as he did. Well, that weren't a good sound. Christ.

Laughing at Wayne's barb, John made a show of raising his arm, sniffing the pit of it and then stumbling backwards, holding his chest and fake choking on the stench, all for Seaborne's benefit, wanting the lad to giggle again.

"Sure 'nuff, th'stink o'me could fell a horse. Though, if'n y'go an' wash yer hair, where we gon' git the grease to fry our eggs, Wyatt?"

Grinning widely, he strode and flung another log onto the fire. If they were gonna be washing themselves, they'd need somewhere toasty warm to dry off and not catch their death of cold.



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#6
Ooc here

[Image: heashot.png]“Yeah,” Seaborne said sagely, as if he knew exactly what John meant when he busied his hand on Sea's nose, “Ma' don't like it when'm muddy,” He revealed, a lesson that was easily learned but for some reason was terribly difficult to follow through with. Somehow, some way, the boy often ended up covered in dirt, or mud, or wet from the lake, river or marsh, and blessed be the divine intervention that had Bee on the other end of his mud slicked tail every time.

It sure didn't make for much fun when there was a scowling wench at the end of it all.

Yet, John seemed to bring light to his son's face, and seeing Seaborne laugh at his Uncle's antics was enough to pull the sour out of his edges.

“Prob'ly from yer personality,” He heckled, knowing full well that the auburn man's humor was enough to wrinkle any nose, though he wouldn't change it for the world, “Now, c'mon, for this shit dries,” Wayne let a tired laugh run through him as he pinched for the brim of his gambler and tossed it to the couch. It wasn't long before his vest was off and his shirt was pulled over his head, “Ya think th'three of us'll fit in that tub?”

It was more a question for the amusement of it all, but Wayne knew full well that Seaborne was gonna need the most work out of the lot of them, “Git'goin', son, 'fore ya dry,” A pat to the boy's rear had Seaborne excitible. Forepaws slapped down on the floor of the bungaloo and his back roached, and it was only seconds before he grew a wild hair and started darting across the room. Muddy paws were slung everywhere and laps were made between the cushions of the couch and the hearth.

Wayne struggled to catch his son whilst in the midst of zoomies, and the boy had spun him around and knocked his feet out from under him, sending the man freefalling into John, “Sea, slow do-” The words hadn't left his maw before mud slapped across his face and he hit the ground with a thud, not knowing if he'd taken John with him. Wildly, his laughter shook in his chest, a clean and bright sound despite the was the morning had begun, “Save me, Joh- OOF!” Before he could get another word out, Wayne became a part of the course and Seaborne launched off the soft of his father's guts.

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#7
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Ooc: 
John scoffed, making somewhat of an effort to wipe the mud off of his face with a lazy arm and succeeded only in smearing it across his cheek.

"Ah wouldn't worry too much 'bout it, son. Yer Ma don't like much'a anythin.'" This was said with his patented 'uncle smile' that said that there's wasn't much of anything John didn't like. Clapping Seaborne across the meat of his shoulder, he turned his green glare on Wayne.

"Scuse you, Ah'm th'perfect example of a Suthern Man." For both of their benefit, he puffed himself up like superman, flexing like of them musclebound wolves that could throw all three of them with one arm.

Turning John eye'd the tub in question, and rubbed at his face, again, very thoughtfully smearing more mud across it before turning to the undressing Wayne with a grin slapped there on his face,

"Maybe if'n you'n I got reaall close."

With a saucy wink, ready for whatever it was Wayne was sure to throw at him, instead it was Wayne who dun goofed and wound up the ticker-toy of rapidity that was his son with a simple pat pat to the butt. A hand rose to clasp against the crown of his head as John side-stepped the toppling Texan clutching at him for support in his final curtain fall, and watched the boy yeetle himself back and forth like he had a spark up his ass, burning rubber like none ever had.

A tinge of pain touched his heart, and for a moment John's face was frozen in a mask of his history, replacing Sea with himself and his brothers speed-demoning it about their Mama's small cottage. Then Seaborne's tail caught him clear in the jewels and down went John like a sack of potatoes.

"Son'of'a'bitsh." He wheezed, knowing those choked words to be some of the truest he'd ever spoken. "Wayne yer son's a wild animal.'

Fortifying himself against the pain, he managed to make it to his knees again, then to his feet, and clear snatched the boy mid leap right outta the air in what had to be the best free-hand catch of his whole life. Hauling the boy upwards, his legs left the ground though they didn't stop their flailing, and neither did that tail stop its whip-like wagging.

"Quick, quick, Ah caught'im."

Yodeling like a fiend, like a hunter that'd bagged himself some great big buck, John held aloft the wriggling boy as if he were the finest catch of all.

"Bow before me!! Ah'm a mighty hunter!" Bellowed John, with a wild peal of exaggerated laughter.



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