10th Partridge [(anonymous?) Voice/Action]
[One thing that's always a bad idea to do: give a tree man something that is typically fine for humans.Case in point, just about anything they stuck him with during his stay with the Malnosso. Yeah, it's one thing to have to deal with cells-hello, unpleasant memories-but dealing with drug poisoning, too? This day couldn't get any more hideous for him.
Well, except he appears to have... tiny branches crawling off his wings and around his back. Complete with little withery leaves (no worries, Ian, they'll go away in a few days).
He's a little too out of it at first to notice them, but about an hour into his fever he finds them. Along with orange tips on his otherwise green hair. Orange, and coarse like straw. The best thing to do, he decides? Curl up into a ball and not talk to anyone for a week. It'll go away, he knows. Besides, he's too busy revisiting his past and being confused to get proper help.
In the middle of his hazy, poison fever, he speaks up on the journal. The little box that would otherwise show his face is masked.]
... I was thinking. You go through life looking for nothing but acceptance and to be like any other person. But then something horrible happens, and you're not sure if it's ever possible-if maybe, just maybe, you're stuck being on the outskirts of everything you wanna be... Maybe someone you thought you could trust turns their back on ya'... or-or maybe you think people can be good, and you suddenly get caught against people who just seem too awful to even exist.
[Malnosso, you're the reasons for this, aren't ya'? Experimenting and tossing people like garbage... like people he's met before.]
How... how do y'cope with that? [a deep, unsure breath; he's busy laying on his back with his palm over the screen]
How do you turn it into something good? Do you keep trying to believe that good things come out of all the things that happen to you...?
[You can actually bump into him while he's sulking in the forest, but he's a hot mess at the moment. Forgive 'em. :|]
Well, except he appears to have... tiny branches crawling off his wings and around his back. Complete with little withery leaves (no worries, Ian, they'll go away in a few days).
He's a little too out of it at first to notice them, but about an hour into his fever he finds them. Along with orange tips on his otherwise green hair. Orange, and coarse like straw. The best thing to do, he decides? Curl up into a ball and not talk to anyone for a week. It'll go away, he knows. Besides, he's too busy revisiting his past and being confused to get proper help.
In the middle of his hazy, poison fever, he speaks up on the journal. The little box that would otherwise show his face is masked.]
... I was thinking. You go through life looking for nothing but acceptance and to be like any other person. But then something horrible happens, and you're not sure if it's ever possible-if maybe, just maybe, you're stuck being on the outskirts of everything you wanna be... Maybe someone you thought you could trust turns their back on ya'... or-or maybe you think people can be good, and you suddenly get caught against people who just seem too awful to even exist.
[Malnosso, you're the reasons for this, aren't ya'? Experimenting and tossing people like garbage... like people he's met before.]
How... how do y'cope with that? [a deep, unsure breath; he's busy laying on his back with his palm over the screen]
How do you turn it into something good? Do you keep trying to believe that good things come out of all the things that happen to you...?
[You can actually bump into him while he's sulking in the forest, but he's a hot mess at the moment. Forgive 'em. :|]