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Entry tags:
14
Who: Walter and you
Where: Forest
When: 16th, noon
Style: Either
Status: Open
[A window on the second floor of Phasma Apartment throws open, and there's a blur of black as something leaps off the sill. Whether it's noticed, the winged creature speeds startlingly toward the forest quadrant (by sheer coincidence in a blind charge), only slowing once several meters in.
The blackness disperses with a sparkle and 14-year-old Walter stumbles forward, twigs crunching under roomy boots. A length of torn cloth is wrapped around his waist to secure long pants, the hems of which he can feel under the soles of his feet. The shirts hang loosely off his frame, but they're not so oversized that he needs to do more. The cape clings to his arms, so he shrugs, tossing it up to rest on his shoulders.
The familiar whites and blues had been the only comforting thing in an unfamiliar room, even if they're a bit big.
He treads carefully deeper in the forest, until he comes across the sizable lake in the center. Crouching, he stares into the expanse of water and frowns. Landlocked.
Should one make the slightest sound of approaching, be it the rustling of the thicket or the snap of a twig, Walter will act before thinking: that would be plunging himself into the water, away from view and safe from dangers of the land. And he'll be down there for minutes, hours even, unless provoked to emerge.
Or he may come out on his own to attack. It's up to how one presents oneself.]
Where: Forest
When: 16th, noon
Style: Either
Status: Open
[A window on the second floor of Phasma Apartment throws open, and there's a blur of black as something leaps off the sill. Whether it's noticed, the winged creature speeds startlingly toward the forest quadrant (by sheer coincidence in a blind charge), only slowing once several meters in.
The blackness disperses with a sparkle and 14-year-old Walter stumbles forward, twigs crunching under roomy boots. A length of torn cloth is wrapped around his waist to secure long pants, the hems of which he can feel under the soles of his feet. The shirts hang loosely off his frame, but they're not so oversized that he needs to do more. The cape clings to his arms, so he shrugs, tossing it up to rest on his shoulders.
The familiar whites and blues had been the only comforting thing in an unfamiliar room, even if they're a bit big.
He treads carefully deeper in the forest, until he comes across the sizable lake in the center. Crouching, he stares into the expanse of water and frowns. Landlocked.
Should one make the slightest sound of approaching, be it the rustling of the thicket or the snap of a twig, Walter will act before thinking: that would be plunging himself into the water, away from view and safe from dangers of the land. And he'll be down there for minutes, hours even, unless provoked to emerge.
Or he may come out on his own to attack. It's up to how one presents oneself.]
no subject
What the hell is the laughter for? It's unnerving.
Wary still, Walter straightens in the water, still refusing to leave its cold embrace. As rudely as she would remember him, he accuses: ] What are you going on about?
no subject
Gracia holds back her laughter and inches just a bit closer to him, or at least, closer to the shoreline. Her smile is as warm as can be, finding his aging younger to be rather cute! (Lest she scare him away even more, though, she's not gonna tell him that.) ]
You don't remember me right now, but we know each other!
[ Comes closer again, just a little bit. Not to fast, nothing to surprise him. She's still wondering at the back of her head why he's in the water in the first place... ]
My name is Gracia. [ A pause. She tilts her head slightly. ] Does it sound familiar?
no subject
For Gracia, he's not nearly as intense in his suppressed rage in Walter's new-found youth, though the suspicion still dominates how he perceives the woman. Even now, he wouldn't trust so much as a stick with her. ]
No. I won't believe your lies.