Share a Photo/Memory with the Above OC

"That must be a real pain to deal and trying to get that healed. I know how bullet wounds feel. Eugh..." He shivers at the thought of his own experiences.

"There was this one time where I was walking home from doing my um... nighttime deliveries... I ended up stumbling upon a stranger with a paper bag covering his head. I mean, I've met him before but it wasn't a very good introduction. Anyways. He was covered in blood (and so was I as well), so I pitied him and decided to take him home so that he'd clean himself up and I could kick him out again. Funny story after that. We ended up going into the basement so that we wouldn't have to wake up my child, and... pretty much played a few card games until the next day. After that whole buzz we ended up becoming friends and eventually my uh... wife significant other. Maybe I'll introduce you to him one day. I just wanted to share that because the whole card game was stupid."

"Hmmm... I think I've seen this Paper Bag guy before. He even said something that he wants to mutilate me because I don't even smile, he's honestly beyond strange. I cannot believe he had a significant other, though. It sounds... too unbelievable. However, I recommend you two play card games on motorcycles next. It's fun, you probably could even summon weird monsters that way."

"My human life is something full of beautiful memories. The days I proposed to my wife after we had a date at the aquarium, she even laughed that I got 'overhyped' and named every fish I could encounter. Honestly, she was a strange lady that she wakes me up by blasting P!ATD every morning. I love and miss her so much."

"Oh, and this too. I also remember how mu stepdaughter, Pickles, made dinner out of EVERYTHING in my fridge. It tasted really horrible I was absent for work for a few days after consuming it, though I'm proud she's eager to learn human lifestyle."

obligatory necrobump

Maribelle was frowning. Of course she was. She listened to Bitten, however, spending her time also tracing a finger over her empty teacup. It wasn't like she couldn't agree with him. She always felt as though she survived something when dawn came stretching over the mountains, but she wasn't certain what to make of those small joys, as he put it. She didn't know what to do with them. Not anymore, anyway.

Swallowing what fear she had, but still fidgeting with her cup, she finally responded to the other party in a low, dull voice. "I don't like nighttime." she said, "So, I guess I have to agree about... about the mornings..." She went quiet for a moment, glancing away from him. "I think it's a good thing you like it, I guess, because there's just... things like that. It kind of feels good when the sunlight drifts in through the window, and it makes it warm. Laojin is a bit cold. I don't know about where you live, though." She loved the rain. It helped her sleep. But, morning and afternoon sunlight was pleasant. She wouldn't admit to it, but she liked to sit where the light settled and warmed the stone floor.

She set the cup aside, finally. However, her eyes remained separate from Bitten. "But, as-- as good as that is, I, uh..." Another moment of silence. "I'm gonna have to... have to go..."

"My memory? Uh..." Maribelle closed her mouth. She had more chamomile tea now, but it wasn't as calming as she thought it would be in this situation. "I've been told that my memory is kind of bad, so I don't know what to tell you, really."

The girl paused to scratch at the side of her head. She probably had dandruff. That actually sounds plausible, but that wasn't the point here. The point was that she took a few moments to relent. "I remember I told my father I hated him. I guess I did that a lot." she said, "He was nice, though. He was always really gentle, really patient, even if-- even if, you know, he wasn't with a whole lot of other people. I got my cloak from him. I took it from him." As she did before, she hardly looked at the other party. She sipped on her tea. "He was... I wouldn't say he was better than the other one, but he was just... less happy. My other father, his nephew, he, uh..."

She trailed off. The expression on her face turned lost and puzzled, her eyebrows furrowed. She just sort of... glared at the wall. "Don't know." she muttered, "But, you... you like your tea?"

Ouchie. Wowchie.

Kiushhu nodded quietly as the ribbon was shown, listening to what it was and the reasoning behind keeping it. The uberhero dipped their head kindly, knowing that Seung-Cheol was a wise man, and more than likely already knew about the words they were going to share.

"It's good to keep a reminder of who not to become, and a reminder of why we are who we are, is it not?"

----

Kiushhu beamed a little, showing off various gifts that they had been given over time. It seemed like they couldn't pick just one thing to show off. A handmade floral piece -given to them by someone named Cecili they noted-  a little paper doll from their tribe, and a small gemstone from someone they had helped.

They happily placed the objects away, giving a simple statement.

"I keep all gifts given to me, as they always mean that someone somewhere is thinking of me, and I shall remember them in kind"

--

The uberhero nodded at Koia slightly, "Yes. I have a few gifts from my travels...It is a nice feeling."

Kiushhu chuckled softly, "Of course there are people out there thinking of you. Everyone makes an impact on another being in one way or another."

Korrina was here, and she was thinking...

Can't relate.

The noblewoman listened to Niang, but at first without a trace of sympathy in her otherwise compassionate expression, not that unassuming but solicitous person she was in different situations. It was now that she just stared at the older woman, not exactly bored, but... Well, it might seem that she wasn't listening. That she stopped listening upon hearing of Niang's loss.

When she returned, her eyes fell upon the bracelets extended towards her. "They're beautiful." She said, her tone dry. "Your daughters, too, I suppose. They must have been. You're quite lovely yourself, after all." That was what she was supposed to say here, right? She could offer the fact that she had lost her children too, but things were different between them. Korrina's boys died in the womb, killed by a small dosage of pennyroyal the moment she felt her quickening. It wasn't the same here. Niang cared enough to reflect on her sweet daughters, and Korrina...

Korrina couldn't care less.

"It is a shame, though, that your son turned out the way he has." She carried on. She fiddled with the silver choker around her neck, looking over Niang's shoulder. "Some say boys inherit most of their traits from their father. I should hope your husband wasn't so much of a brute that those genes carried on." She remarked, "But, as you said, the boy made his decision, and he must live with it."

Korrina untied the blue sash around her waist. Though it was getting old, the fabric still shimmered in the lanternlight as she held it up. It was a symbol. Gifted to her by her husband during their wedding so many years ago, blue the color of faithfulness. She wrapped it around her wrist, almost carelessly, pulling on one end with the roughness of a child as if she didn't care for the sentiment it presented. As if there were any sentiment stored in it.

"I was wed to Lord Alkaev about sixteen years ago." She told the other party. She hadn't bothered to face them, as she continued to stroke the fabric of her sash. "It was an arrangement between my mother and his father. My parents fell into his father's good graces, and I'll have to admit that I was happy, so happy. I had a pretty picture of my wedding in my head. I thought it would be beautiful, and we would be dressed in bells and silk and flowers, but that was the wish of a girl who could only see with stars in her eyes. It's such a foolish thing, but I suppose most children are... naive."

The woman then turned to them. "You should hope that you get or have someone who will treat you lovingly." She said, "Though, that is such a rare thing. Men will often be cordial before they destroy you, like wolves stalking a little fawn."

(Excuse Willow's rudeness she's a child. Lovely writing btw! You truly know how to paint with your words)

Willow watched Swift in interest, letting out a little sound of awe at the pretty feather. It definitely caught her interest.

“So pretty…” She mumbled as she began to sway only to stop and begin listening to what he was saying… only to get very confused and lost. He was speaking in such an elegant manner, but alas all of his beautiful descriptions were lost on her child mind.

As he kept on going, she only grew further confused by his wording.

“Why would a baby’s head be a grape?” And in confusion came misunderstanding as his words blended together and she attempted to keep up with what he was saying only for it to become mixed and disjointed.

“Glut? Don’t you mean gut? I like to gut things.” She spoke, her voice laced with heavy confusion as did her expression behind the mask.

“I saw a dead body explode! His stomach was bloated like your and he went pop!” Now he was speaking things that she could… Well at least somewhat understand. Only choosing to hang and focus on specific words as she occasionally spoke up to voice some of her own stories and such.

“Cage? I was caged once… I didn’t like it… Poor Koo-Roo” Willow spoke sadly at the thought of someone else being trapped like a caged bird. Unable to escape, confined and tortured. Beaten and broken.

“Why didn’t you help her?” She questioned becoming a little bit annoyed, angered that someone could stand by and watch something so disgusting go down. From a child’s mind, she couldn’t exactly understand the reasoning of an adult. Maybe he had one, maybe he didn’t.

“So, she died…” Willow became depressed once more instead of agitated. The story reminded her too much of her own and it broke her heart.

“You stupid head! Why would you go about telling such sad stories! I want a happy one! Give me a happy one!” She demanded brattishly as she stomped her foot.

Overall Willow… Well didn’t quite like his story.

---

Willow was at a park. It was a rather secluded one, and yet the secludesness only added to its beauty. The birds chirped filling the what would be silence with song, the sun warmed her skin and the refreshing breeze cooled her down.

It was in this park that she was alone. There were no other children or people, no one to bother her. Not even Orion was about. He said he had to do something… What that something was she didn’t know for she didn’t stay long enough to hear it.

It was peaceful. A peace that she often didn’t experience. This should’ve been her life, her mother taking her to the park to play… Her bickering with her family over trivial stuff only to make up, to just… Live life, and yet here she was… Alone…

That was until she spotted someone arrives, going to sit on a bench.

Scrambling off the swing she bolted over to them and hopped on the open spot beside them, not even caring if they were comfortable or not with her being so close to them.

“Hi stranger! I’m Willow!” Despite her childish voice and stature, death just radiated from her. The mask that covered her face didn’t help in the matter.

“Since I’ll be leaving this world soon what I say won’t really matter.” It was the sad truth, for what she said didn’t truly leave an impact… Or at least a whole lot of one.

“This is me!” Pulling a photo out from her dress pocket she held it up for the person to see.

“My mommy took this of me when we went to the park for my birthday! It was a lot of fun. We got ice cream and she even bought me this plushie I was wanting for some time! It was the best birthday ever! I…” Her excited rambling faltered.

“I died not long after this photo was taken… I was taken. I was really scared. I kept looking at this photo and just… Praying that I would get to do it all again. I tried to stay alive! I really did… But, they… In the end, I just couldn’t.” She pulled herself onto the bench completely so that she hugged her knees to her chest.

"Ah!" Adil tensed at the intrusion, the strange, loud voice coming from somewhere he couldn't see just then. A small flame escaped his hand, it was practically a reflex at that point, and he snuffed out the fire he'd just caused, as quickly as it had been set. Heart still pounding, hand firmly closed, he turned to the source of that voice, and found- was that a child? He'd damn near set a child on fire just now.

He really hoped she hadn't seen that, before his attention shifted to her story entirely. A slow horror crept up on him, and he hoped it wasn't apparent on his face. The photograph was innocent enough, yes, but the way the girl talked made it seem so much more- he couldn't seem to place the word- cruel, perhaps, than that. He'd mostly dealt with figurative ghost-children, the type that disappeared from the corner of his eye when he turned away from them or crept into the worst parts of his dreams. This one did not do that. That was far more unsettling.

"I'm sorry, little one. I hope you find peace, I really do."

"A photo? Ah, this is from a long time ago. It's not something I want to talk about, but it's- I'm sure you've seen it, if only in passing." From somewhere in his shirt, he removed a crumpled piece of paper. It was a shoddy little thing, wrinkled; he'd been on his way to trash it. It wasn't a thing of value, not unless one happened to be a historian, or perhaps a newspaper some 30 years ago. Now and then, though, it resurfaced, in posters and books and such. 

Though the ink had faded, having committed the crime of being outside for more than a few minutes and then unceremoniously folded, what could be made out was a picture of a boy, not entirely human; white horns from his forehead, clawed hands clinging to a primitive-looking gun. A uniform a few sizes too large, and an utterly broken expression, head tilted just slightly toward the boy on his right. Though he didn't resemble that boy much now, his present self, holding the poster, made it easy to draw conclusions-- that was Adil. He made no verbal confirmation of this, like he was trying to keep it a secret despite his presenting it. 

"My daughter nearly found this outside earlier. She might be aware of it already, but I don't- if I can help it, I don't want her to know. Do you see this pin?" He gestures to a glass butterfly on his scarf, bright blue and a fair bit gaudier than the rest of him, even with the jewelry he himself wore. The craftsmanship was poor up close, like it had been fixed by more skilled hands than those who had made it in some emergency DIY. "She made that. It was the first thing she made in the shop. She wants to follow me..." He almost laughs, a little half-snicker without any sort of malice behind it. "I think she looks up to me. I'm not ready to disappoint her, or to explain this picture. A part of me hopes she'll just not realize, but... she's smarter than that. She's used to my face, too..."