one little piggy
[It wasn't really a difficult thing to figure out, the Forge. He'd opted to merely mash it til it did something, and do something it darn well did.
So now we have a face, folks, stark white and marred only by a streak of black hair hanging from the temple, cool blue eyes focused, unblinking. He's smiling and, brushing that stray lock back behind his ear, regards the little machine thoughtfully before running a thumb across the lens.]
I've seeeen these before... or types like it.
[There's an accent there, a drawl carrying the words across with a lilt every so often. It'd ring clear as Southern for those Scorched who hail from the U.S. of A.; deeply Southern, and crisp in its delivery.]
Maybe not as fancy. [or coated in three layers of blood and bone flecks. By the time he typically got around to snooping through someone's shit, they usually were.] But I know I can talk through it and hear y'all, I'm sure...
[grin]
... I'm sure! [The view shifts as he holds the thing high above his head, as if he's gazing into a mirror, admiring himself. Granted, he can't see himself, but he's almost positive someone can.] I need t'find my family see, and I know they ain't where I are. Now, I don't care none about who brought me here or why, but I do need t'make it clear that stealin' a man off his property without a lick o'warning or explanation just ain't nice.
I'm a forgivin' man, t'ain't no lie, so if someone could point me back to the Valley, I'd be willing to let this little escapade roll riiiight off my back.
[A pause and a tilt of the head, lips pursed as he debates his next words. He could toss a threat out there, sure, but if help in a strange place from strange people is what he's looking for... ]
So c'mon! Speak up! I'd like t'be on my way, you must understand.
Any guidance is muchly appreciated.
[And... he's just gonna stand there, staring. Waiting. Lad's got all the time in the world.]
So now we have a face, folks, stark white and marred only by a streak of black hair hanging from the temple, cool blue eyes focused, unblinking. He's smiling and, brushing that stray lock back behind his ear, regards the little machine thoughtfully before running a thumb across the lens.]
I've seeeen these before... or types like it.
[There's an accent there, a drawl carrying the words across with a lilt every so often. It'd ring clear as Southern for those Scorched who hail from the U.S. of A.; deeply Southern, and crisp in its delivery.]
Maybe not as fancy. [or coated in three layers of blood and bone flecks. By the time he typically got around to snooping through someone's shit, they usually were.] But I know I can talk through it and hear y'all, I'm sure...
[grin]
... I'm sure! [The view shifts as he holds the thing high above his head, as if he's gazing into a mirror, admiring himself. Granted, he can't see himself, but he's almost positive someone can.] I need t'find my family see, and I know they ain't where I are. Now, I don't care none about who brought me here or why, but I do need t'make it clear that stealin' a man off his property without a lick o'warning or explanation just ain't nice.
I'm a forgivin' man, t'ain't no lie, so if someone could point me back to the Valley, I'd be willing to let this little escapade roll riiiight off my back.
[A pause and a tilt of the head, lips pursed as he debates his next words. He could toss a threat out there, sure, but if help in a strange place from strange people is what he's looking for... ]
So c'mon! Speak up! I'd like t'be on my way, you must understand.
Any guidance is muchly appreciated.
[And... he's just gonna stand there, staring. Waiting. Lad's got all the time in the world.]