don't blink

zchiraxicon maybe we can trade just for tonight? All this goddamn rain. As it was, he would be entirely soaked if he were to switch in his luv-cuddle form, cuz skunks ain’t built to withstand monsoons and that typa shit. Already he was soaked to his skin, mane plastered to his neck, the freezing drench doing nothing to sooth the sword cuts sliced through his pelt--except for rmaybe numbing it, shit I dunno. But that’s what made the sight of the lil’ kid even worse all out there alone in the open drench of it, lookin’ like a soggy chicken in the sand, laying there like an idiot even though logically there was a reason why a kid would stick around for no goddamn reason like that. Ma was gone somewhere, Chico guessed. And she hadn’t come back yet. Knowing this place--it wouldn’t really be all that shocking if Ma never came back. BOOm depression. Chico slinked out though, braving the sand (cuz it ain’t really all that bad, he never really figured out why she’d always bitch about it all the time, but fuck it) because even though warm fur was out of the question, his wings were large and looming and could at least shield some of the torrent off the kid. Maybe a lil. He approached said soggy chicken, a great webbed wing arching over the gangly, awkward babe, great lion’s head reaching forward with a gentle sniff, seeing if the tiny thing was as sleep as he looked. {OOPS CRASH This is Chico wandering all by himself!} You know, the one at W. 103rd and Broadway?

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