12th Confession [Action]

[notabluesbro]

[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]

Comments

[notablueskid.livejournal.com]

You put up traps for your boss...?

[What the hell kind of boss....]

[oda-hates-me.livejournal.com]

Yeah. Not that they really hurt the damn glutton.

[notabluesbro]

[THIS LOOK. Just in tiny kid form.]

Y'could've killed me.

[oda-hates-me.livejournal.com]

Then don't steal from pirates. [His sympathy resides in the negative numbers]

[notablueskid.livejournal.com]

[...e-eyebrow perk. He can't help himself—he's an 8 year old and he has to prod about these things:]

Pirates? Y'mean, like bandits?

[oda-hates-me.livejournal.com]

Tch, hell no.

Like the kind that-- [Wait, would Nicholas even know the difference? There might not be one in his world]

My crew and I sail on the sea, for one.

[notablueskid.livejournal.com]

...








...That's a lotta water in one place... right?

[oda-hates-me.livejournal.com]

That's right.

Never seen it?

[notablueskid.livejournal.com]

[He shakes his head.]

There isn't anything like that, at home. Lotsa' sand, I guess... Lotsa' sun.

S'why people'd fight over water, sometimes.

[oda-hates-me.livejournal.com]

Heh, kinda like Alabasta. [Tired of standing, he takes one of the empty seats and leans his weight on the surface of the table]

A desert country I've been to. War nearly broke out because they were suffering a drought with no end in sight.

[notablueskid.livejournal.com]

Tch. It happens a lot at home. [he sips on the water] Adults don't know when t'just shut up and get by.

[A bit bitter at them? Obvious, yeah. As far as he's concerned, 3/4ths of them are no good selfish assheads.]

If they took better care of each other, it wouldn't be so hard.

[oda-hates-me.livejournal.com]

[He mutters around a mouthful of smoke]

I take it you don't have parents.

[notablueskid.livejournal.com]

...Nn, don't have anything like that.

[His own cigarette shortens.]

Some guy dropped me off at the orphanage or somethin' when I was born.

[He stares darkly through the wispy tendrils of cigarette smoke. And after a beat, shrugs. It's feels heavy and forced, but he does it anyway.]

Doesn't really matter much, I guess.

[oda-hates-me.livejournal.com]

Mm.

And that? Did you leave it?

[notablueskid.livejournal.com]

....Nah.

I got 'adopted'.

[He takes another slow drink, and pauses mid-move.]

Didn't really matter much, either.

[But that—that was something he learned to fix.]

[oda-hates-me.livejournal.com]

[Another slow exhale, slow like the silence trickling in. Then he stands up and heads for the sink]

It's freezing outside. Stick around at least until morning, got it?

I'll make ya breakfast.

[not-a-blueskid.livejournal.com]

[He continues staring at some uninteresting spot across the table, his cigarette already finished.]

You should ask your family before y'let strangers sleep in the house.

[oda-hates-me.livejournal.com]

Trust me; they're not gonna mind.

Besides, a few of them are out at the beach.

[Did he forget to mention that when threatening you into lowering your gun? |D]

[not-a-blueskid.livejournal.com]

...






You lied to me.

[oda-hates-me.livejournal.com]

Got your arm fixed, didn't it? [Looking far too pleased with himself]

[not-a-blueskid.livejournal.com]

...

[notablueskid.livejournal.com]

[Wolfwood scratches the back of his head at that, turning away to avoid flashing a humored look.]

Shitty lyin' adult.

[oda-hates-me.livejournal.com]

Heh. Scrawny brat.

You can take the couch. I'll get you some blankets.

[not-a-blueskid.livejournal.com]

Couch...

[Oh geez, he's never slept on one of those before... As far as he knows, it's not meant to be to slept on, anyway. But he nods stiffly at command.

He sits down on said couch. Waits and watches Sanji walk off for blankets before he presses the cushions with his hands, smiling faintly to himself.]

Heh, wasn't allowed on one of these, before.

[oda-hates-me.livejournal.com]

[While you're experiencing the magic of couches, have some blankets dropped on your head]