when cometh the day we lowly ones

Denver Mathis · 04-13-2011, 06:19 PM

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Assuming Eli's in the Hotel? Very silly post. WC: 511

He'd come here to find a room. Or, really, see if he could find a room that reached his high expectations. So far, he hadn't. But Denver was only on the first floor. Exiting the last disappointing door, he came to another, white-furred hand turning the knob easily, the door swinging open to reveal a sparsely decorated, dingy, and dust-covered room that he hoped wasn't occupied. Coughing as his lungs protested to the stale air, he waved his hand in front of his face, as if it would do anything to clear the large room simply filled with airbore pollutants. This was one door he'd regretted opening. The single window in the room was covered, blocking out whatever small amount of light may have filtered through the muck-covered windows. Instantly, Denver's nose upturned and he instinctively held his breath, floundering quickly to make his way out, now. He could not stand to be there.

He kept running, after passing through the door. He wanted out of that place, not just that room. Denver would go back, later, and try on the second floor, this time. That first floor room was simply terrible.

Bursting through the already ajar front door he thrust his body onto the ground, kneeling with his hands in the dirt, taking deep, desperate breaths. As if he would die, should he breathe any more of that foul, particulated air.

Just as he thought he'd managed to regain his composure, Denver's ears were pierced by an unholy scream of terror, pain, fear, and nearly everything else in one. Panicked, his eyes widened as he stared around, hoping someone would attend to whatever it was. Please, let there be someone else here, Oh, he did not want to have to be the one to help...whatever that was. Seconds later, as the screaming continued to a headache inducing degree, Denver realized that he had to make that noise stop. That no one else was coming. Fuck, he thought; he didn't want to dirty his hands, already covered in a layer of grime.

Denver ambled over, knowing the source was nearby, but then nearly tripped over the small, fluffy thing as he searched. "Oh, god, kid!" he screamed, in nearly as much surprise at what he saw as the young pup itself was. Gaining his footing, Denver heaved a sigh of near-relief and reached down to pull him out of the small rabbit's hole. He screamed, panicking, and Denver nearly let go of him, eyebrows furrowed in frustration. Why do I always have to do this shit? he though, a low growl coming out as he navigated the boy's incredibly small leg through the hole and out safely. "Stop that screamin'," he half-begged, half-insisted. As quickly as possible, Denver released the child near to the ground, glad to be able to step away from him now.

"You done, kid? Alive 'n' all?" he asked, panting and annoyed, hair tousled non-flatteringly. Another sigh, and his hands went to his light locks to re-set the hair.

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