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+---- Thread: make them remember you — rats (/showthread.php?tid=7982)
make them remember you — rats - elijah - 11-16-2018
[div style="margin: 0 auto; border-width:0; width: 70%; text-align: justify; font-family: arial; line-height: 1.5; font-size: 9pt;"][ ooc ] you only need to read the last paragraph since the whole thing is just backstory. please note that eli's everything in italics cannot be heard by your characters. also i apologise for all the typo's in here where i'll miss out or write a random word instead of what it's supposed to say. i'll edit it after my posts
hrug:The panorama of his escape - perfect to the untrained eyes, a landscape brimming with fantasy. Wonders spill across the edges, glistening like star dust. His gaze is a mirror to his childlike heart, encapsulated by the intangible realm that spreads before the mesmerised youth. He is enchanted by the skies and the seas, taken aback by the unraveling beauty of the trees that rise above his tiny form. Moss grow between the cracks, dewdrops refracting light that dares to reach the undergrowth of the rainforest. The boy is a warlock, determination marks his sweet expression, searching for anything that will inspire him. Like a solider, he marches with high steps, not stealth about his walk as his baby-blue eyes dart back and forth. He catches the sight of flowers, grass and retreating critters, vanishing from his keen peripherals so not to be hunted. Elijah breathes at the summit of his universe, unfolding petals cloud his soft gaze. There is a plaintive sadness where he stands, an underlying loneliness that seeps from his isolation. While he is willing to welcome anyone to see the wonderland his heart has created, he is almost aware that it is his and his alone.
"There are flowers over there," the kitten murmurs to his rabbit doll. Rupert, he had named it. The patterned face only drops towards the ground, no life or muscle to hold it upwards as it hovers from the grasp of his maw. He puts the soft animal down and then walks towards the plants, fluttering his wings behind him for balance. "It's called marigold," he adds, plucking the yellow flower and taking a whiff of its scent. He remembers seeing mama use it before but the memory is faint, a mere shard that holds on desperately to survive, to persist and exist. "You use it for infected wounds and to stop bleeding. It's magical, don't you think?" He can't help but be impressed by the smallest of things, the very qualities of certain herbs leaves the child mystified. Rupert gives him no response, beady buttons staring towards the soiled ground. Elijah merely smiles at it, picking up the doll and sliding it over his back, the rabbit's ungracefully long arms wrapping around his neck. He takes the marigold and puts it inside his satchel.
It is easy to imagine the universe as his idealised fantasy but, truth be told, it is draining to speak to silence. His words are drowned by deaf companions, ears that do not work but appear only for effect. Born of his subconscious is his desire for adventure, his inability to accept that the world is mundane. Although he is open, gullible and carefree, he feels deeply isolated from the ones around him. They simply do not see what he sees. He is like a fish underwater, swimming and aware of a place called Atlantis while they are the land dwellers, walking upon sand and never seeing below the surface. Prismarine optics twinkle towards the sight of poppies, growing within a green field that extends along a brief clearing of the forest. "I'm not supposed to take painkillers," Elijah says to his friend, laughing a little to himself: "not that I need them." There isn't a cure for his heart condition, the weak walls of his ventricles. He doesn't feel tired. It isn't time for him to sleep yet - he doesn't want to be defeated by fatigue. The child, seeing the use in the seeds, takes a few poppies and stores them as well. He is sure there is a concoction he can learn to make with them. They say the Necro Mambas, after all, dabble in magic and potions. Besides, he is more than certain that they look attractive inside his jars.
His ears twitch at the buzzing sound of a bee, swiveling his body to notice the hive of bees nearby. A catacomb of complex shapes, glistening in the rich colour of honey. The bees look angry today. They fly in an agitated motion, a dangerous dance that entrances his perplexed mind. Elijah has an affinity with the bees. They do not strike him with their venom no matter how close he approaches. A mutual respect exists between them between the child is the demidemon of infestation. They protect each other, they are living armour. "What's wrong?" the child calls out, wagging his fluffy tail. His ears twitch innocently for a response but silence blares back him, a suffocating quiet. Inaudible tones embrace the near-immortal boy, overwhelmed by the earth's cold front. To nature, he is yet another pest striving to survive. "I just want a honeycomb for mama. Is that okay?" Since the tavern had burned down, honey was being used for those who worked in and out of the fire. Even the victims had a bit of honey to ease them after having inhaled so much smoke.
"You might hurt yourself if you do that."
Elijah blinks confusedly, a breath ejecting from his lips in surprise. He looks around, eyeing the bushes. His brows furrow intensely, cheeks puffed and brain stretching. He echoes the words in his head, realising that his ears hadn't picked up the voice at all. It was his mind. "Amandi stranger," he begins, raising his wings to allow Rupert to fall to the ground. His nose touches the doll's forehead, curious if it was his mute companion speaking to him for the first time. "The bees won't hurt me." He presses a loving smile. "Non turbetur." Although he is telling the truth, putting full faith in the yellow and black insects, he is internally hoping that the stranger would speak again. But, now that the kitten has stopped moving, he finally begins to notice the stench of blood. He feels his own pulse weaken, his breathing pause in a panicked halt. Elijah, for the past few days, has worked very hard in suppressing the memories. They are a nightmare, a blurred mess that comes and goes. If he lets them in, they will intertwine with the world he wishes to protect and continue creating, building, forming.
The warlock is afraid to follow the smell but his paws move before his thoughts have ordered them to, drawing him closer and closer to the metallic smell. His throat feels dry and, without any further whispers in his head, the boy had begun to move by himself. He weaves through the underbrush, ducking his head to avoid low hanging branches and flickering his sight at the splatter of red against soil. The sanguine melts into the earthen hues of the rainforest's floor. "Salve?" His voice travels across the short range, nervousness lacing his sounds, "...tu vivit?" Elijah, chest thundering, follows the stream of scarlet, the vivid paint that leads him towards the trunk of a tree. A thin, brown tail uncoils in front of him as he tilts his head curiously. A black rat, heavily wounded and bleeding, struggles to breathe. Watery abyssal eyes stare at him in an almost pleading fashion, nostrils flared as its chest rises and falls against the sensation of pain.
Pity fills the boy's tiny vessel and, as if they could read each other's thoughts, he scavenges through the plants he has already. It was as if it were fate drawing him to the rodent's last few moments of life, caught within a rift of emotion. He has seen mama work before, watched the way Junji went about his appliance of herbs and bandages. As his mother was the former soothsayer of the island, Elijah sometimes brought medical supplies with him on his adventures. He liked the feeling of preparedness as he slowly and carefully patches the creature whose eyes were still wide open, watching the way he worked as if it intrigued its very being. With a final tug, the same voice murmurs in his mind: gratias tibi. He flinches, paws sinking beneath the soil as if to stabilise himself. "Were you the kind stranger who spoke to me?" he asks, face glistening with tears, "was it you?"
No response.
His shoulders slump forward, the kitten sitting there without another word as he looks at the creature. It is resting, lying on its side. If Elijah were petty, he would have left it because, like everything else, it made him feel isolated and alone. He wanted a companion but he received none of it. Even when speaking to the other pirates who cheerfully invited his stories of pillaging and slaying dragons, they saw it as 'just a story'. There was nothing real about the world he conceived to be beautiful, nothing real about his stories. To Elijah, it was the same as saying his passions were not real, that his feelings and thoughts were all lies. But if that were truly the case, how was he supposed to live with himself? How could he begin to bear the world as it was? "It's okay, Elijah. As you are here for me, I am here for you." The child merely sniffles, wafting his gaze towards the rodent. As if touching souls, the two creatures understand each other and their purposes. The universe has brought them together, bonded through soul and body, a protection formed by destiny.
Within the next few days, the sight of Elijah became less frequent around Barracuda Bay. But, every time he went outside, one would see the child always be accompanied by a darkfurred rat. It sits atop his head, watching and peeping. Sometimes, however, there would be more than one receiving a free lift. As of today, there are three rodents that ride the winged demidangel, relaxed and feeding on grains found from his tiny plant satchel. Crewmates raise their head to look at him, confused screeches suddenly erupting from a fem's maw when she realises the sea of rodents scurrying behind Elijah. The kitten stops, wriggling his whiskers. "Don't you want to meet my friends?" he inquires aloud but some pirates are already bolting the other direction as the mischief of rats halt around him in a protective circle before relaxing and lounging around him. Paenitet, he apologises to the creatures telepathically, do you think I walked in a scary way?
mobile translation:
Re: make them remember you — rats - ... - 11-16-2018
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[div style="width: 60px; font-size: 11px; font-family: nyala; text-align: justify; color: #fff"]HP: 96%
[/td][td][div style="width: 60px; font-size: 11px; font-family: nyala; text-align: justify; color: #fff"]HP: 96%
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EXP: 8%
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NAME: ... ¦ GENDER: ? ¦ LEVEL: 2 ¦ ♡: 1
STR: 1 ¦ DEF: 1 ¦ CON: 1 ¦ DEX: 1 ¦ INT: 1
PER: 2 ¦ CHR: 1 ¦ AGL: 1 ¦ WIL: 1 ¦ LCK: 1
Cautiousness gradually seeps into movements. Breathing becomes shallow as each second goes by. Eventually, They spots one body moving at the speed akin to Their heartbeats. Then two, then three, four, five—too many bodies for Them to be certain there is something unkind beyond Their presence, and They knows They is near it.
Though, what calms the feeble heart and shaky mind is the sight of—
"Eeah!"
Soft gaze on the winged ragdoll and...what appears to be creatures that They have never seen before! How are they even smaller than both Them and Elijah together! They glances back to the retreating figures then back to Their friend and the rodents, frowning. They wonders if they are the ones who were creating a fear upon the pirates. Their head shakes, a silent comment to Themself.
A no, can't be.
Elijah is sweet, and anyone who associates with him are sweet as well!
They can only hope whatever is going on in the feared pirates' minds will go away, as They comes closer to Elijah and the little creatures. Frown disappears, only to be replaced with a smile that shines as much as Their mismatched eyes do too. They observes the rodents, wonder fills in celestial mind.
"Eeah hae new fff...." Words dies off from tongue pressed against the roof flesh. One second, two, and three... They recalls what Elijah called Them. Friend."F-fah-...fahwain! New fahwain! New fahwain!" They squeals, forepaws clapping against each other excitedly before They waves at the little creatures, giggling. Enthusiasm runs high through veins and Their presence burns delight. "Hai! I'm Eeah's fahwain too!"
Re: make them remember you — rats - Masie - 11-17-2018
She hadn't seen rats before, sure Masie ate any mouse she could find, but rats she had not seen before today. Considering how much larger they were compared to mice and the psychical differences? She did not instantly associate the creatures with food especially since they were surrounding the new kitten who had poked her snout before. He was friendly, so whatever was around him had to be something she wasn't supposed to touch at the moment. Of course, Masie wasn't completely counting them as friends, or something that wasn't food, she was just counting those ones as something she couldn't eat due to the fact they seemed related to Eli.
Masie heard the world friends, walking up to the other two standing around, but clearly she was confused. Why were there so many of them around the winged kitten? The young raptor couldn't understand that, lowering her jaw to touch the ground she tilted her head, feet side stepping as she kept investigating.