(no subject)
When Vincent awoke that morning, there had been a number of discoveries. It had been a sort of creeping settlement of recognition down on his mind, the slow coming of wakefulness that allowed him to access clear differences. That he felt irrationally smaller, lighter, there was no tickle of untrimmed beard against his face and most pressing of all, and quite simply his bed seemed quite larger than it had been when he had fallen asleep.
The discovery had indeed been a shocking and even momentarily distressing one. Particularly so when he had finally rubbed the sleep from his eyes with quite small and soft hands and sat upright to see the damage with his own eyes. Short legs and arms, over sized clothing, a smooth chin without even a hint of days beard. And worst of all, the light boyish squeak that came from his throat when he had exclaimed "By God!". Needless to say he hadn't been inclined to immediately leave the safety and solidarity of his hut, rather instead preferring to sit cross legged in the middle of his seemingly over sized bed to contemplate the mysterious dilemma. He was by far, speechless, his mind dizzied and fuzzy with the development. After a long time spent immersed in thought he hardly even noticed getting up and bunching his trousers up around his small waist, nor walking out as he watched his small feet slap across the dirt and towards to foot worn path. He wasn't entirely sure what his destination was, or even if he had one, but sitting absurdly in his hut would do nothing to change the circumstances. Regardless, he was confused. He wandered quietly, mute and wide eyed as he saw children, ones who he had no recollection of ever seeing in his previous walks. With his painting and travels around the safe areas of the island, Vincent believed he tended to have a fair idea of how many children there were, simply because they stood out more clearly than the adults. But there was an over abundance, himself apparently included.
His feet steered him in the direction of the Compound and as he approached, Vincent became aware of another phenomenon. The absurd decorations of orange and black, as well as the clownish cut outs of skeletons and grinning gourds. Decorative streamers, false grave markers, it was perplexing to say the least. Rather than enter the building itself, he stilled just outside of it, his head turning this way and that as he tried to absorb what he was seeing, and the combination of oddities as well as his new (or was it long since lost?) vertical perspective, he settled for gaping at what he saw, his brows frowned and his mind trying to grasp the sheer madness of it all.
"This place is a madhouse." He announced to himself, dazedly eying a large grave marker to the side of the path that bore no name and simply R.I.P.
(YAY HALLOWEEN. Come and play with a wee Van Gogh! He needs to learn about Halloween, and... I dunno. Get clothes. Feel free to catch him pre or post dressing in kid sizes. XD)
The discovery had indeed been a shocking and even momentarily distressing one. Particularly so when he had finally rubbed the sleep from his eyes with quite small and soft hands and sat upright to see the damage with his own eyes. Short legs and arms, over sized clothing, a smooth chin without even a hint of days beard. And worst of all, the light boyish squeak that came from his throat when he had exclaimed "By God!". Needless to say he hadn't been inclined to immediately leave the safety and solidarity of his hut, rather instead preferring to sit cross legged in the middle of his seemingly over sized bed to contemplate the mysterious dilemma. He was by far, speechless, his mind dizzied and fuzzy with the development. After a long time spent immersed in thought he hardly even noticed getting up and bunching his trousers up around his small waist, nor walking out as he watched his small feet slap across the dirt and towards to foot worn path. He wasn't entirely sure what his destination was, or even if he had one, but sitting absurdly in his hut would do nothing to change the circumstances. Regardless, he was confused. He wandered quietly, mute and wide eyed as he saw children, ones who he had no recollection of ever seeing in his previous walks. With his painting and travels around the safe areas of the island, Vincent believed he tended to have a fair idea of how many children there were, simply because they stood out more clearly than the adults. But there was an over abundance, himself apparently included.
His feet steered him in the direction of the Compound and as he approached, Vincent became aware of another phenomenon. The absurd decorations of orange and black, as well as the clownish cut outs of skeletons and grinning gourds. Decorative streamers, false grave markers, it was perplexing to say the least. Rather than enter the building itself, he stilled just outside of it, his head turning this way and that as he tried to absorb what he was seeing, and the combination of oddities as well as his new (or was it long since lost?) vertical perspective, he settled for gaping at what he saw, his brows frowned and his mind trying to grasp the sheer madness of it all.
"This place is a madhouse." He announced to himself, dazedly eying a large grave marker to the side of the path that bore no name and simply R.I.P.
(YAY HALLOWEEN. Come and play with a wee Van Gogh! He needs to learn about Halloween, and... I dunno. Get clothes. Feel free to catch him pre or post dressing in kid sizes. XD)