Give Me All Your Shiny Things [Action/Text]
[For those who care to look there is a nice little blip written in the journals, because Bishamon has not yet figured out filters.]
I find myself feeling like a child's doll, the way this castle plays with us. It set us in a different world, gave his new clothes, even fixed my eyes for a short time - like an mother repainting the eyes after they have been worn after being put through a child's harsh handlings. And indeed our dollhouse is well manufactured, our owner carefully providing us with all we wish to keep us happy - perhaps even docile? We seem to retain much autonomy here, but through the tales I have heard and my own short experiences I some what question that. After all, it took something from us, as if we asked to be brought here. What else might it take?
Something to consider in my prolonged stay, and for future... study.
[And now, after that is written for him to later muse on, he finds himself sitting out in the gardens - but not as a man, but as an overly large golden crow. Not perhaps this is not very interesting... until one realizes said crow has three legs, not two, and its eyes hold far more intelligence than any crow, golden or not, ever should have.
Bishamon, for himself, found it a useful way of... not spying, but learning things not lightly said.
And it also left him terribly open to poking.]
[ooc: Respond to either the journal entry or to him in action - whichever works for you :) the journal is with him as he sits, so he can respond, or feel free to poke the overly-large crow - make it move cause it has your seat, feed it a cracker, etc.]
I find myself feeling like a child's doll, the way this castle plays with us. It set us in a different world, gave his new clothes, even fixed my eyes for a short time - like an mother repainting the eyes after they have been worn after being put through a child's harsh handlings. And indeed our dollhouse is well manufactured, our owner carefully providing us with all we wish to keep us happy - perhaps even docile? We seem to retain much autonomy here, but through the tales I have heard and my own short experiences I some what question that. After all, it took something from us, as if we asked to be brought here. What else might it take?
Something to consider in my prolonged stay, and for future... study.
[And now, after that is written for him to later muse on, he finds himself sitting out in the gardens - but not as a man, but as an overly large golden crow. Not perhaps this is not very interesting... until one realizes said crow has three legs, not two, and its eyes hold far more intelligence than any crow, golden or not, ever should have.
Bishamon, for himself, found it a useful way of... not spying, but learning things not lightly said.
And it also left him terribly open to poking.]
[ooc: Respond to either the journal entry or to him in action - whichever works for you :) the journal is with him as he sits, so he can respond, or feel free to poke the overly-large crow - make it move cause it has your seat, feed it a cracker, etc.]