.oo1 // ACTION + VOICE
[ it smells like dirt.
barnaby isn't particularly fond of dirt. or grass. or nature. oh sure, it can be nice to take a stroll in the park, or even maybe, i dunno, have a picnic out in a meadow or something, but other than that he's not much of an outdoor guy. trees and forests, what do. he is not okay with this.
but more importantly, this ache at his back. what the f- oh. what. wait what. wings? violently pink wings, at that? and they function? what is going on, and where are his clothe-- oh, they're right there, folded nearly in the grass beside him, augh if there are grass stains on his good leather jacket he might cut a bitch. also this book, that looks like a journal. this is all pretty bizarre and very suspicious, and immediately barnaby's mind is filled with thoughts of kidnapping and NEXT and conspiracy theories, but it just doesn't seem right. the last thing he remembers is sternbild, maverick, the androids .. well, not that barnaby's memory is really anything to rely on, but it just doesn't feel right.
but since barnaby doesn't function on feelings he needs to figure something out. this book will probably help. it doesn't take him long to figure out just how this thing works; it's a network, of sorts, only written by hand, which is really strange and raises even more questions, but it's all he has to go on. but first he's going to .. put his actual pants and belt and boots back on, and frown around at all these trees, and he doesn't mind tearing holes in his black tee shirt to accommodate the wings but no way is he maiming his precious jacket. so he just slings it over his arm and talks at this journal thing while walking toward wherever the trees seem thinnest. ]
VOICE;
Excuse me, but could someone direct me to a tailor?
[ or a town. PRIORITIES. ]
[ ooc; he's actually right on the edge of town somewhere nearish/behind the grocery store so IF YOU WANT TO FIND HIM WANDERING THAT IS COOL and hello luceti be gentle with me. o7 ]
barnaby isn't particularly fond of dirt. or grass. or nature. oh sure, it can be nice to take a stroll in the park, or even maybe, i dunno, have a picnic out in a meadow or something, but other than that he's not much of an outdoor guy. trees and forests, what do. he is not okay with this.
but more importantly, this ache at his back. what the f- oh. what. wait what. wings? violently pink wings, at that? and they function? what is going on, and where are his clothe-- oh, they're right there, folded nearly in the grass beside him, augh if there are grass stains on his good leather jacket he might cut a bitch. also this book, that looks like a journal. this is all pretty bizarre and very suspicious, and immediately barnaby's mind is filled with thoughts of kidnapping and NEXT and conspiracy theories, but it just doesn't seem right. the last thing he remembers is sternbild, maverick, the androids .. well, not that barnaby's memory is really anything to rely on, but it just doesn't feel right.
but since barnaby doesn't function on feelings he needs to figure something out. this book will probably help. it doesn't take him long to figure out just how this thing works; it's a network, of sorts, only written by hand, which is really strange and raises even more questions, but it's all he has to go on. but first he's going to .. put his actual pants and belt and boots back on, and frown around at all these trees, and he doesn't mind tearing holes in his black tee shirt to accommodate the wings but no way is he maiming his precious jacket. so he just slings it over his arm and talks at this journal thing while walking toward wherever the trees seem thinnest. ]
VOICE;
Excuse me, but could someone direct me to a tailor?
[ or a town. PRIORITIES. ]
[ ooc; he's actually right on the edge of town somewhere nearish/behind the grocery store so IF YOU WANT TO FIND HIM WANDERING THAT IS COOL and hello luceti be gentle with me. o7 ]