Something bad had happened. Something terrible. Pierce knew this, for tears stained his cheeks, and though his paws hurt like hell from the journey here, his heart hurt so much more. He had left, and his family would soon follow suit. But why was he crying? Why couldn’t he stop? Though he couldn’t recall, he’d witnessed something he’d never thought he’d have to - she had died. Right in front of him, she’d died. Died for him. His throat was raw from his screaming, the sobs that had been torn from it. Then, there’d been a voice beside him, and an apparition- her. She’d brought him here. Promised him his family would be safe here. So he had left. Written to the ones he loved and just prayed to whatever was up there that they came after him.
Pierce shook his head- it was killing him. The cold nipping his nose and crunch of snow beneath his paws was... familiar. But this wasn’t home. No, definitely not, for he couldn’t see any sign of his family or his studio or anything. He tightened his old red scarf around his throat, letting out a soft breath that created a small puff of vapor in the air. He looked disheveled, having clearly traveled a long distance to get here. His usual leather satchel was stuffed with supplies, and he carried another bag, one far bigger, that held his most prized belongings. He had some of his paints and sketchbooks and canvases, as well as all of his Harry Potter books and a few other ones he just couldn’t let go. He’d also grabbed his... whatever Riddlersgame was to him, now,’s favorite book, the It book with the frighteningly-cover he’d redesigned for him so long ago, just in case the tabby forgot it. There were a few other things, too, gifts from old friends he couldn’t quite recall, but things he knew mattered quite a bit to him. Pierce could remember packing all of this, quite clearly. He could even remember leaving his home, writing a heartfelt note to his daughter and Riddler, urging them to follow after him. But... why? Someone had told him he had to go. Someone he loved- but where was she? Shouldn’t they be together now?
[color=#F5CA72]“Hana,” he mumbled. That was her name. She had been with him, he was sure. Had something happened? Fresh tears slipped past his eyes, and a sob threatened to rise in his chest, but he forced it down. What was wrong with him? Wiping his cheeks, he swelt his worried amber visionaries over his surroundings, but he saw nothing - just mountains and trees and snow. Things that should comfort him, but only set him more on edge. What if Rid couldn’t find his way and he never saw him or his little girl again? Pierce had left a trail, but... the dappled tom shook his head. He was being dumb. His family was smart. He had been careful about his trail. Besides, clearly, something bigger was going on; there were gaps in his memory. He didn’t know what that scar on his shoulder was, or why he loved this painting in his bag so much, but he knew he should. He’d seen people struggle with this before- amnesia, and it’d always terrified him, forgetting those he loved. The terrible part was, he hadn’t- he could hear their voices, see their faces, but there was no context, and hardly any names.
You’re Pierce, he told himself. You love Clem and Rid. You’re twenty-one months old. Yeah, that was right. Maybe he was okay? “And I’m from... uh...” Oh god, he needed help. He needed Riddler, but he wasn’t here yet. Hana had brought him here for a reason, though, hadn’t she? She said it was safe. Did that mean there was other people, too? It looked like home. There had been people at home; lots of people. It was probably his best chance to just go for it - of course he couldn’t ask any strangers for help with his memory, but he could ask them for food and shelter. They’d given that to people who needed it back home; he’d just never expected the tables to ever turn. Pierce took a few steps forward, raising his nose. It didn’t smell like any clan he’d ever known- or, he didn’t think so.
“Um, hello? the effeminate serval called, shifting his weight between frigid paws. “Is anyone there? I’m P-Pierce. Pierce Parker. I, uh, don’t know where I am.”
”speech”
//lol this is kinda shitty but ya boi’s here & mobile
Pierce shook his head- it was killing him. The cold nipping his nose and crunch of snow beneath his paws was... familiar. But this wasn’t home. No, definitely not, for he couldn’t see any sign of his family or his studio or anything. He tightened his old red scarf around his throat, letting out a soft breath that created a small puff of vapor in the air. He looked disheveled, having clearly traveled a long distance to get here. His usual leather satchel was stuffed with supplies, and he carried another bag, one far bigger, that held his most prized belongings. He had some of his paints and sketchbooks and canvases, as well as all of his Harry Potter books and a few other ones he just couldn’t let go. He’d also grabbed his... whatever Riddlersgame was to him, now,’s favorite book, the It book with the frighteningly-cover he’d redesigned for him so long ago, just in case the tabby forgot it. There were a few other things, too, gifts from old friends he couldn’t quite recall, but things he knew mattered quite a bit to him. Pierce could remember packing all of this, quite clearly. He could even remember leaving his home, writing a heartfelt note to his daughter and Riddler, urging them to follow after him. But... why? Someone had told him he had to go. Someone he loved- but where was she? Shouldn’t they be together now?
[color=#F5CA72]“Hana,” he mumbled. That was her name. She had been with him, he was sure. Had something happened? Fresh tears slipped past his eyes, and a sob threatened to rise in his chest, but he forced it down. What was wrong with him? Wiping his cheeks, he swelt his worried amber visionaries over his surroundings, but he saw nothing - just mountains and trees and snow. Things that should comfort him, but only set him more on edge. What if Rid couldn’t find his way and he never saw him or his little girl again? Pierce had left a trail, but... the dappled tom shook his head. He was being dumb. His family was smart. He had been careful about his trail. Besides, clearly, something bigger was going on; there were gaps in his memory. He didn’t know what that scar on his shoulder was, or why he loved this painting in his bag so much, but he knew he should. He’d seen people struggle with this before- amnesia, and it’d always terrified him, forgetting those he loved. The terrible part was, he hadn’t- he could hear their voices, see their faces, but there was no context, and hardly any names.
You’re Pierce, he told himself. You love Clem and Rid. You’re twenty-one months old. Yeah, that was right. Maybe he was okay? “And I’m from... uh...” Oh god, he needed help. He needed Riddler, but he wasn’t here yet. Hana had brought him here for a reason, though, hadn’t she? She said it was safe. Did that mean there was other people, too? It looked like home. There had been people at home; lots of people. It was probably his best chance to just go for it - of course he couldn’t ask any strangers for help with his memory, but he could ask them for food and shelter. They’d given that to people who needed it back home; he’d just never expected the tables to ever turn. Pierce took a few steps forward, raising his nose. It didn’t smell like any clan he’d ever known- or, he didn’t think so.
“Um, hello? the effeminate serval called, shifting his weight between frigid paws. “Is anyone there? I’m P-Pierce. Pierce Parker. I, uh, don’t know where I am.”
”speech”
//lol this is kinda shitty but ya boi’s here & mobile