Report 001 [Action/Accidental Voice]
(OOC: Sorry for taking forever to do an intro post! Dx; Artblock for icons is still eating me alive, so Robert may not be as emotional as he should be for a bit. I'll clarify most of his emotions out of habit anyway, but... argh. Will try to do something about this soon.)
[A short distance outside of the main cluster of shops and buildings in Luceti - actually, likely not more than fifteen metres from the school - there's a very unusual-in-its-banality scene, picked up by one New Feather's journal, askew on the ground... An entirely ordinary-looking, if a little skinny and pale, person sprawled out in the snow in a less-than-dignified position. He's silent for a few moments, stirring slightly from the cold against his scrawny chest; after all, he was in his warm home before, and certainly wouldn't be expecting to wake up in snow. It takes him a few more seconds before he sits up suddenly, eyes wide.]
... what in... [He sits up, brushing wet hair out of his eyes and pushing his glasses into their usual place on the bridge of his nose.] ... This is completely and utterly illogical. [He shakes his head, as though to clear his vision... but of course, nothing changes.] ... These sensations of cold are too realistic for me to be still be asleep... [A blend of fear and anger clouds his expression, and his hand flicks to his bare chest.] And I was certainly not half-dressed prior to this! This must be some kind of ridiculous prank...
[He pauses for a moment, looking uncomfortable at the pain he is suddenly cognizant of between his shoulder blades.] Whoever captured me must have injured my back, and - [He reaches back, feeling for an injury he expects to be there, and instead is greeted with the soft but unmistakable brush of wing feathers.]
... [A long moment of silence as Robert traces the feathers with his fingers. His expression is dark, a mixture of horror and fascination.] ... Avian wings. There... There are avian wings on my back. Somebody grafted wing tissue to my back. But how am I not suffering rejection issues? And for what purpose would such an act serve to accomplish? ... And why not attain my consent prior?!
[Somebody might want to explain to this scientist what's going on... and might want to remind him that he'd better put something on before he freezes to death.]
[A short distance outside of the main cluster of shops and buildings in Luceti - actually, likely not more than fifteen metres from the school - there's a very unusual-in-its-banality scene, picked up by one New Feather's journal, askew on the ground... An entirely ordinary-looking, if a little skinny and pale, person sprawled out in the snow in a less-than-dignified position. He's silent for a few moments, stirring slightly from the cold against his scrawny chest; after all, he was in his warm home before, and certainly wouldn't be expecting to wake up in snow. It takes him a few more seconds before he sits up suddenly, eyes wide.]
... what in... [He sits up, brushing wet hair out of his eyes and pushing his glasses into their usual place on the bridge of his nose.] ... This is completely and utterly illogical. [He shakes his head, as though to clear his vision... but of course, nothing changes.] ... These sensations of cold are too realistic for me to be still be asleep... [A blend of fear and anger clouds his expression, and his hand flicks to his bare chest.] And I was certainly not half-dressed prior to this! This must be some kind of ridiculous prank...
[He pauses for a moment, looking uncomfortable at the pain he is suddenly cognizant of between his shoulder blades.] Whoever captured me must have injured my back, and - [He reaches back, feeling for an injury he expects to be there, and instead is greeted with the soft but unmistakable brush of wing feathers.]
... [A long moment of silence as Robert traces the feathers with his fingers. His expression is dark, a mixture of horror and fascination.] ... Avian wings. There... There are avian wings on my back. Somebody grafted wing tissue to my back. But how am I not suffering rejection issues? And for what purpose would such an act serve to accomplish? ... And why not attain my consent prior?!
[Somebody might want to explain to this scientist what's going on... and might want to remind him that he'd better put something on before he freezes to death.]