notabluesbro | 12th Confession [Action]

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12th Confession [Action]

[Time for personal confetti because

~Wolfwood's back~

...Sort of.

Rather, he's smaller. Shorter. Even more scruffy and disorganized than before.

He'd woken up in a forest and spent a good 3 hours raking his mind over just what he was seeing—snow, actual snow. Of course, none of that was important for the meanwhile when he realized he was cold. Holy shit, was it freezing out here. At least whoever left him here gave him some clothes and... a gun in a holster?

Slipping on the way-too-big black jacket, he examines the handgun. Of course, Wolfwood always carried it on him, but... he's eight at the moment, so this information is just going over his head. It's not as though he's never used one, of course. He just never had such a nice holster to go with it!

But what doesn't go over his head is the fact that he has wings. Wings! What the hell is going on here? Where is he? Surely he's not... well, y'know.

He rushes around the dense for a for hours, stumbling and tripping in the groggy morning light, until he finds... ah, there are rooms in this building that aren't used? Maybe if he's sneaky, he can just stay in one of these here. Once that's done with, he wanders around town for a few hours with a ~~stolen~~ jacket sloppy thrown over his old collared shirt. Looking paranoid as he stalks through crowds. All right, Nick. You're in a strange place, but you cannot forget the number one rule: just survive.

Too many people around to steal from the stores. Stomach rumbling. Wait until night, then find a window, a door even, to sneak into.

When cold, black night eventually hits, he lassos the holster around his waist (hey, no more tucking into the side of his pants), under his shirt, and sets out, sneaking into whatever apartment or house he can. Perhaps sorting through your drawers, cabinets, or refrigerators. Hey, you can't expect him to know about all that free stuff, right? Despite him being as quiet as possible, there may be an occasional falling down of something—a pan, perhaps a glass. In case your character is a heavy sleeper. 8|]

[OOC: You can run into him any part of his day listed above! Replies will be from very very obvious journals~! Time and space is kicked often.

He might draw that gun in any robbery attempt, but he won't shoot at anyone. Unless they're trying to kill him. |Db]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[!!!

She quickly scrambles to her feet, cheeks reddening as she realized she fell asleep and--] Oh, I'm sorry! I didn't mean to--- Can I help you?

[dfkdfjlkhjl SWIFT MOVEMENTS—

He awkwardly holds the mug behind him, though some of it spilled near his foot in the surprise of it all.]

S'not—No, I don't need no help. I was just here 'cuz I thought you shouldn't sleep in front of people. Y'know.

Oh... Well... [She looks sheepish at that for a moment, before she notices the spill behind him. She pauses for a moment, before realizing that it was cocoa.

... Ah. She was starting to understand the situation now.] Do you want a warmer cup? I can make you a new drink if you want.

[Wait, what? He took her drink, and she's not mad about that? What kind of weird girl is this? Well—far be it from him to question anything that'll get him a drink of something.]

...If you want. I don't... That sounds good, I guess.

[Maybe fumbling just a bit on words; he typically distrusts anything openly offered to him for many a-reason, so he takes your youthful female qualities at just face value.

You can bet he'd be watching you make that cocoa every second of the process, though. B|]

[She smiles at that and puts the chair back into it's proper place. It wasn't uncommon for people to kind of sneak in and think they can steal something, but given what this place is for, most of the stuff they steal are for them anyway.] You must be new around here.

[She says, thinking about it. After all, most residents would know better than to just barge in, so that means... New feather? But it's an odd time to be getting one.]

[He shrugs.]

I guess so. I woke up outside with all those... trees.

[Trees. He still can't fathom it.]

How's there so much green and stuff? Like trees, and leaves... and all that stuff. Where's all the sand?

[Sand...? A desert dweller then?] This place has always been like this, as far as I know. It's called Luceti. [Going to go and make your cocoa now. Doodedoo.] This... isn't exactly near your home.

That's okay. [He reads that as 'your house isn't around, to which he can safely agree.] Never had a place like that, anyway. So that's okay.

[He eyes her back as she works, unsure.]

...You have wings, too...?

An orphan? [She asks tentatively as she works, in case she was wrong.]

Everyone in this village has one, actually.

[Just a quiet mm at the question, as he considers what she's told him—so everyone had... wings, here?

He couldn't help but solemnly but simply ask:]

Am I dead?

[It was entirely possible, really. Maybe someone drove by and hit him. Or maybe he was caught trying to take something from a trigger-happy guy. Something like that.]

[...

...

...

SJADKSJDKJDKSAL] O-oh no! No! Nothing like that. You're most definitely alive.

Th'people in church say you get wings when you die.

[AKA you might be a dirty awful liar.

He's not... entirely sure why he's fine with this concept. Maybe it's because the fear of nothing after death seems suspended, if it's really the case that he's kicked the bucket. If there's something after death, then it ain't really death, is it?

Even 8-year-olds can adapt to such a logic.]

... Well, I certainly cannot argue that. [But they are not dead. At least, she's certain she isn't. She picks up the cup and hands it to him, deciding it was already done.] The residents in this place acquire wings. It's not really because they died.

[He takes the cup cautiously and keeps himself a few steps back—but he watched you make it, and it smells okay, so... He'll trust you on this one. His expression drops into something casual and curious, after he sips on the heated drink.]

Then why's that? Why do they have wings?

It's well... a little more complicated to explain. [She starts making her own cup, though this time tea.] I suppose it's how people adapt to this place, as one can't live here without the wings.

Why can't they? Somethin' funny in the air?

[That's the best reasoning he's got going for him.]

Taking the wings off is rather fatal in this place. [How to explain.] The Malnosso, a group of people watching over us, are the reason why they're there.

...Fatal...?!

[He can't help but show a concerned, surprised look—wings that will kill you if removed? That's just crazy...! He reaches behind him and feels the groove of the wings beneath his black jacket.]

Why'd they do somethin' like that??

[Ahh... She was expecting that. Maybe she should have been more careful with her words.] I'm not sure exactly. It's just how this place is.

[Huff. He's gonna have to get used to a lot of things here.]

So... what're y'doing here anyway? Why were y'sleeping here?

Me? I live here actually. I'm sort of a caretaker of the Welcome Center.

Welcome Center...?

[He looks around, cup in hand, before realizing he was in a conversation with someone he didn't know the name of.]

M'name's Nicholas. A-and thanks for the drink...

This place. It's for newcomers like you to stay in until you've settled, if you wish.

[A smile at that.]

I'm Shirayuki. It's a pleasure to meet you. [A pause, before she raises a hand reassuring.] And you're welcome for that.

[He's right back to looking around, unable to help himself.]

D'you take care of all this by yourself, though?

Not by myself. There are other volunteers who come and go here, actually.

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