Nicholas D. Wolfwood (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
notabluesbro) wrote2010-12-25 04:52 pm
notabluesbro) wrote2010-12-25 04:52 pm
Entry tags:
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 astolen 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]
~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
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]
[Action]
Re: [Action]
[He looks the boy from head to toe.]
How'd you end up on a spaceship?
[Action]
Re: [Action]
[Action] XD I actually didn't mean for them to stumble on this so fast
Re: [Action] |D Mini!Wolfwood and Vash will take it well, I'm sure
What happened to th'first one...?
[Action] >D Oh I'm sure! I figured this would come up eventually, first thread? Muw ha ha.
Re: [Action]
[A thoughtful pause, as he crosses his arms.]
Our first planet got messed up, too. That's why we all ended up in that shitty place.
[Action]
That's terrible! Why didn't they find a good home? Like Rem! She's going to find a place that's going to be like our very own Eden!
Re: [Action]
[Yeah, that's kind of a bummer, ain't it? He just huffs at the thought of landing on such a shitty ass planet.]
I guess we just sorta crashed on our planet. They didn't mean to, but they couldn't really fix it, so...
[Action]
They were originally from Earth too? [Vash is a smart kid, there's something about these coincidences he REALLY doesn't like.]
Re: [Action]
[Wolfwood doesn't think much of it. He just shuffles snow around with his foot as he speaks, thinking about how none of this is around in the desert; it's really something, and worth the cold.
Maybe he'll get to actually stay here.]
[Action]
...it can't be all bad, right?
Re: [Action]
...There's nothin' worse...
[He looks at Vash, frown deepening.]
I don't wanna ever go back to a place like that...
[Action]
Re: [Action]
[True, perhaps a few of the stragglers were 'friends', but... he saw them more as extra weight he felt compelled to help. The tiny kids—but they had others to take care of 'em, too.
So. Really. There was no one.]
[Action]
Re: [Action]
[Tell me about it, kid.]
[Action]
I'll be your friend!
Re: [Action]
Eh?
[Action]
Re: [Action]
Oh.
[Wait, is this how it works? You just sorta'... say you're friends? Or something? That really can't be all there is to it...]
I guess that's okay... F'you want...
[Action]
Re: [Action]
'Cause... we just met each other, y'know...?
So it's kinda weird, isn't it?
[Action]
Re: [Action]
[Action]
Re: [Action]
[Action]
Re: [Action]
[Action]
Re: [Action]
[Action]
Re: [Action]
[Action]
Re: [Action]
[Action]
Re: [Action]
[Action]
Re: [Action]
[Action]
Re: [Action]
[Action]
Re: [Action]
[Action]
Re: [Action]
[Action]
Re: [Action]