Styrofoam cups and crumpled up flyers caught fitful gusts and then were dropped when the eddies slowed, discarded for a second time by the wind. Dawn was just another item littering the ground; one weighted by self pity until she felt she'd never move again. If she could, she probably would have shifted out of the puddle of stale beer that she landed in.
God, please let that be beer.
The thought of mystery fluid dampening the seat of her cargo pants disgusted her, but the knowledge that she was too apathetic to do anything about it was far worse. Taylor was right to call her out on her passivity. Inaction was not an option at this point. No white knight was going to swoop down and carry her away. If she wanted to get home, she was going to have to take the first teetering steps. So she rose and turned towards the parking lot where the crowd was steadily migrating.
Her best bet would be to look for Vermont license plates, overcome her timid nature, and ask those people if she could ride with them. Of course she couldn't offer them much money for gas. What payment would total strangers, probably male, expect in return? Dawn tugged the ragged hem of her t-shirt further down her boobs in an attempt at modesty. Taylor's awful tantrum had her expecting the worst from people.
Which is why she swung her elbow in a short but vicious backwards arc in response to a tap on the shoulder and the sick realization that a person had snuck behind her a second time today. There was a satisfying thud as her arm connected with soft area just under the assailant's ribcage. The angular momentum of this swing spun her around to face him. "Thought you could just go and-"
"And..." She didn't get a good look at his face because he was doubled over and wheezing, but upon seeing the distinctive green mohawk, she realized that she had knocked the wind out of Johnny Chainsawhands, lead singer of FEMA Death Camp, her favorite band on earth. "And- I am *so* sorry! Ohmygod, ohmygod! Are you all right?" She rushed to his side, unsure of how to speed his recovery.
For a while he could only move his lips like a fish out of water. Finally he squeezed a few breathless words past a grin. "Totally. Worth it."
"I feel awful. If there's anything I can do, please let me make it up to you."
Johnny raised an eyebrow and Dawn blushed at how bold her offer might seem. "You can tell me why a pretty girl is all alone by the stage when everyone else left. Maybe you can even pad my ego a bit by lying and and saying you wanted to meet the band."
"Oh but I did. I mean; I still do. I mean; it's complicated."
"The gig's over. I got nothin' but time. Care to continue this conversation backstage?"
Just the other day I was thinking that you should try drawing more male characters to interact with and support your stories with your sexy female characters.
And then I see this.
Woot chan, what are you doing in my head?!?
Seriously though, nice work as always, both the story and the picture. I think I'll enjoy Dawn's story as it progresses. She's a cute punk girl.
While naked and near-naked characters are always a crowd pleaser, there's something incredibly sexy about the fully clothed, 'not trying to be sexy but managing it anyway' images. Keep up the good work, m'kay? ^_^
God, please let that be beer.
The thought of mystery fluid dampening the seat of her cargo pants disgusted her, but the knowledge that she was too apathetic to do anything about it was far worse. Taylor was right to call her out on her passivity. Inaction was not an option at this point. No white knight was going to swoop down and carry her away. If she wanted to get home, she was going to have to take the first teetering steps. So she rose and turned towards the parking lot where the crowd was steadily migrating.
Her best bet would be to look for Vermont license plates, overcome her timid nature, and ask those people if she could ride with them. Of course she couldn't offer them much money for gas. What payment would total strangers, probably male, expect in return? Dawn tugged the ragged hem of her t-shirt further down her boobs in an attempt at modesty. Taylor's awful tantrum had her expecting the worst from people.
Which is why she swung her elbow in a short but vicious backwards arc in response to a tap on the shoulder and the sick realization that a person had snuck behind her a second time today. There was a satisfying thud as her arm connected with soft area just under the assailant's ribcage. The angular momentum of this swing spun her around to face him. "Thought you could just go and-"
"And..." She didn't get a good look at his face because he was doubled over and wheezing, but upon seeing the distinctive green mohawk, she realized that she had knocked the wind out of Johnny Chainsawhands, lead singer of FEMA Death Camp, her favorite band on earth. "And- I am *so* sorry! Ohmygod, ohmygod! Are you all right?" She rushed to his side, unsure of how to speed his recovery.
For a while he could only move his lips like a fish out of water. Finally he squeezed a few breathless words past a grin. "Totally. Worth it."
"I feel awful. If there's anything I can do, please let me make it up to you."
Johnny raised an eyebrow and Dawn blushed at how bold her offer might seem. "You can tell me why a pretty girl is all alone by the stage when everyone else left. Maybe you can even pad my ego a bit by lying and and saying you wanted to meet the band."
"Oh but I did. I mean; I still do. I mean; it's complicated."
"The gig's over. I got nothin' but time. Care to continue this conversation backstage?"