Share a Photo/Memory with the Above OC

Despite his often rather ignorant and cold demeanor, Micah felt himself hesitate for a moment, before placing his hand on the plushie, feeling its softness. He cracked a smile. 

"Strange. I never quite got how people could still enjoy such-.. Childish possessions. But I suppose they have a bit of meaning to them still, don't they?" Micah grinned, looking down at the worn-out, and very well-loved doll. "Such a shame I can't get any of my old possessions," He paused, glancing down at the floor, "Can't really reminisce on them either, I suppose. Not enough time for that. Not anymore."

Regardless, he kept a little smile plastered on his face, "You seem to have taken very good care of it. I know plenty of people who would've ripped that thing to shreds within minutes," He chuckled.

Micah's house was quite a sight. Embellished with decorative curtains and chandeliers, enough to awe nearly any common townsperson. Or, at least, he figured as much. When it came to his house, Micah was more than willing to show off. 

As Micah sat in the dining room with his guest, he hummed softly, eyes fixed on the large chandelier above them, as if to avoid eye contact. 

"I used to be a prince at one point," He began to speak, his fingers drumming against the table. "Or, well, I suppose I still technically am. I'm just not quite active, you could say." Micah chuckled, sighing a bit. "I still remember the day I was crowned as one of the Princes of Hell. I felt such a strange sense of power. Something I could never have even hoped to achieve as a human." He grinned, "My years in Hell were anything but torture, fire, and brimstone. Could've stayed a little longer if a 'friend' of mine didn't drag me out and ditch me." 

The man turned his gaze down, back to his plate, "But, I do suppose all good things come to an end, hm? Or maybe I'm just getting old. I have to admit, some days I wish this body of mine would just stop working. I almost miss ol' Luci. Quite a nice fellow, actually."

The teenager blinked slowly, nervously wringing her fingers around as she maintained her gaze on the tabletop; it appears as if she had a similar idea. Her eyelashes fluttered upon realizing that the elder party was ignoring her as well. She, however, paid no care to this, for she assumed that he was as nervous as her. Then, she heard him speak, abruptly raising her head to shift her attention back to Micah.

"Oh, you were?" the teenager responded, letting out a chuckle in reaction. Her chuckling abruptly fell silent when he began to muse her with his experience in Hell. Her expression became more uncomfortable as he continued to delineate. When she noticed that she fell silent, she whipped her head downwards and maintained her straight face. First, she was alone with the much older man, and now he's apparently supposed to be the hair to Hell's throne? Zinnia thought that this man was crazy, but she still nodded in acknowledgement and allowed her frown to grow.

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"Macaroni doesn't really like new people. Don't force her to let her pet you," the teenager stated, nudging the second party's hand away from the peeved cream-colored cat.

"She's a rescue. We don't really know how old she is, but the vet guesses that she's only a few months. Her old owner moved and abandoned the poor thing with her mama and siblings. I got Macaroni from one of my neighbors—the ones that took that little cat family in."

Jackson slowly recoiled his hand when the teen pushed it away of her own volition. He blinked, then peered back at the cat, of which seemed to be giving him a cautious, distrustful look. Looks like he couldn't escape that even with animals.
"Not even a year, huh? So she's pretty much a kitten still," he pondered. He frowned at the rest of the story. Abandonment. Boy, did he know how that felt. "Aww, sorry to hear that. That's scummy of her original owner to do, but at least she's got a good one now. I hope the rest of her family found good homes, too."
Maybe he ought to get a pet someday? It was an interesting idea he entertained even before meeting Macaroni here-- a name he loved, by the way-- but he always came to the same conclusion: he'd never have the time to take care of it. Living vicariously through Zinnia would have to do.

"I guess it's cheating, but this eye-patch gives me a lot of memories," Jackson attempted a chuckle, but there was clearly something hanging heavily over him. It shortly showed on his face with a deep and distant frown. "I remember waking up in the hospital. My boss-- partner now, he was there. The person I cared about, though... Nothing. I thought he'd show up at some point, but he never did.
"Now I know he was fully in love with his spouses and all, but... I mean, I feel like I deserve at least one visit, right? I'm not asking for a marriage proposal, I just lost my eye and was in intensive care! Doesn't that warrant a visit? At least a card?" The thief shook his head and sighed, "I feel like that moment hurt more than losing my eye, and I was awake for that. Sorry, I didn't mean to bring things down."

This thread shall not remain dead! I shall do my best to revive theeeee)

Willow, as per her usual self, had once more found a person to bother. She was lucky that they were at least a little willing to feed into her want and need for attention and entertainment. So, when he started telling the story of his eye patch, she found her face lighting up behind her mask with joy.

That smile turned into a frown as she adjusted her mask to look at him properly, her doe eyes looking up at him with pity, “People are hard to understand, even more so when you’re attempting to dissect their actions… At least you had someone there with you, at least you weren’t entirely alone.” She tried to shine some light on the obviously painful memory.

His next words had her smiling brightly, “You didn’t bring things down! I was decapitated and chopped up! We’ve sort of got something in common!” She cheerily proclaimed with a child-like glee, seemingly unaware of how different the two instances were.

“So why don’t you get us some ice cream and we can plot the jerks demise! I call dibs on his eyeballs though!” And with that, she had no issue in tugging on the man’s hand in an attempt to get him to buy her some ice cream.

What an odd child.

Kittens! That was what Willow had been focused on, staring at them through a window into a pet shop. She always wanted one but never could get one. Her attention was only dragged away when she heard the footsteps of someone passing by.

“Hey!” She chirped out as happily as ever, the air of death around her being something that seemed to wrap and choke the happiness she gave off into a twisted sense of insanity. It didn’t help that she had her mask on which made her that much more ominous of a presence.

“Did you see those kittens back there?! I’ve always wanted one.” She began to yap, uncaring to if the person wanted to listen to her or not, “The closest I got to calling one my own was when I was caged up. The men would use these kittens for things… They were mean to the kittens, but when they weren’t around and I was in reach I got to play with them! Pet them and they were so sweet to me.” She rambled only to go on a tirade as to why kittens were the best and that they deserved more attention than they got.

Kittens were pretty much the last thing on his mind when he passed by the ominous girl - or attempted to, as she started talking to him. "Hm?" Shin hummed, looking down at the masked face whose owner gave off an unnerving atmosphere. There was no doubt in his mind that this girl was dangerous, though so were a lot of people he knew. Some human, some... not so much. Maybe he just wanted to find another excuse than not wanting to be rude. 

When Willow mentioned the kittens he looked back at the window she gestured towards and sure enough, there they were. He always found pet stores cruel... maybe that was just his opinion. They did not stray far from the topic, however. Patiently he listened to all the girl had to say, a bitter taste in his mouth that got worse as he continued listening. So she was not too different from these kittens, was she? Or had been... at some point in her apparantly short life. Shin did feel sorry for her- or maybe he understood... anyway, yes, kittens were great! He just kept on listening to Willow gushing about cats, however long she would go on... luckily he had some time on his hands.

"Hm?" he asked, noticing the eyes resting on the sparkly pink band-aid on the back of his hand. "Oh..." he chuckled, gently stroking over it with the thumb of his other hand. "It's from Val." he explained, as surely everyone knew who that was. "He is... well, I suppose somewhat close to my child. It's funny, really..." he chuckled, "I never wanted children, can't even have any, and then there was this kid." - He had just gotten soft, hadn't he? - "I only even met him because a client owed the company money and they had-" Shin paused. "Anyway, he just would not let go of my leg so he kind of... had to stay with me, I guess." the man smiled again, maybe a bit more genuine than usual. "He was just... so... fragile. And he bruised so easily. Still does. I mean... he just has to catch a door the wrong way and he will bruise. At some point he got really self-conscious about it, so we had to find something... and the only thing we could come up with were band-aids. So we bought some he liked and whenever he bruised he would get a band-aid to 'help him heal'." Now he actually had to laugh. "I'm sorry, I must be boring you to death by now." But it was a memory he really liked. "The first time he actually approached me by himself was to put a band-aid on some small cut..."
Didn't he just say he never wanted children? Well. He didn't. But Val happened and he was grateful for that. "Now he always carries some and puts them on anyone he feels might need them. I don't think it has a lot to do with actual injuries... it's more his way of showing he cares, I suppose." Sometimes he wondered how that kid could still be so kind, after everything. 

(v that was so sweet omg!)

Ben wondered why such a serious looking man had a little cutesy bandaid on him, but didn't question. However, his eyes drifting to it pretty much spoke for itself, as Shin began to converse about his child. He gave the CEO a smile as he went on about Val and how he came to end up with the boy. 

"No, no, you're not boring me! I don't come across that many other adoptive parents so I enjoy hearing what you've got to say a lot. Most of my acquaintances aren't planning on having kids, to be honest. I think one probably has a few kids out there he doesn't know about yet, but I digress." He smirked. "I wasn't planning on parenthood so soon either, to be completely honest. Me and my fiance didn't really get the chance to talk about it before he passed...we wanted to make sure we were on our own, not relying on his brother, and financially comfortable before we made any big decisions like pets or kids or anything like that. But under some circumstances, my career ended up giving me the chance to adopt my daughter before she ended up in the system. But enough about me- how old is Val now?"

"Did you want to discuss something else?" Ben asked, sitting at his desk in his office, having just finished briefing his client on whatever legal matter they'd came in to discuss. He noticed that their eyes had drifted to the picture on his wall of a cast of actors all dressed up in Peter Pan costumes upon a stage. "Oh, that picture up there? It's from a lifetime ago...almost 10 years ago, I'm pretty sure. You'd never guess that I was Captain Hook here, huh? After that performance, my fiance was there with the biggest bouquet I've ever seen to congratulate me..." He gave a bit of a sad smile, after saying all that. "By the way, don't worry about this or anything being counted against you, I stopped billing for time once I started going down memory lane."

He raised an eyebrow. "What, a divorce? Everyone and their dog is getting one these days kid, don't get hung up on your parents."

He leaned back in his chair, face splitting into an easy grin, clearly no qualms about showing his apparent amusement at the younger man's surfacing anger. The bounty hunter laughed as he joked, giving Mathew a wink, "Though if you hate her that much..."

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"Wanna see my real eyes?"

Though this offer was a playful one, there was pause as he did identify something interesting among the junk in his locker. At least it was to him. To anyone else it was just a rock, the drawn on face smeared and faded. Definitely an improvement to the makeshift show and tell than his own eyeballs though.

"Ha ! It's Fido. Now this is the ideal pet. Haven't fed em in over a decade and still as fit as a fiddle."

He tossed the stone up and down in his hand, the pet rock's weight still familiar even after all those years.

"Got this the first time I left the planet. I needed a pet at the time that wouldn't get sick if I wasn't around. And I have to say, this did the trick."

He sighed, returning it to the shelf where it'll likely sit for another ten years without acknowledgement.

"Dad thought he was so clever with this one. Whatever, I don't really have much from home left for a reason."
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Edit: Oh don't worry about the @! It has been a long time but I really enjoyed reading your response, thank you !

Jutta Sorry for the ping, it has been ages so I just wanted to shoot one your way just in case!^^

"Your real eyes?" the paladin echoes, a skeptical look on her face. 

Illanya had just assumed that, like most people she knew, he wouldn't have fake eyes, and thus wouldn't have to need to show his real ones off. It could've been a prank or something, but honestly, she can't tell if he's serious or not. Her eyebrows just raise higher when he suddenly jumps to talking about a pet, concerned at the mention that the poor thing hadn't been fed in a decade. The paladin would later consider herself lucky that Darcy didn't see the look of horror when he mentioned that. 

Her anxiety quickly becomes confusion, than slight irritation. She'd gotten all worried over a rock?! A pet rock no less. Still, she breathes easier knowing that there was no mortal danger incurred to the rock at least.

"A-ah, I see. I suppose a pet rock is better than no pet at all, right." Illanya smiles, though it's more of a confused expression than anything, her mind still wondering what the heck Darcy meant by feeding Fido. 

She frowns as he sighs, mentioning things about his father. And based on what little she could tell it probably wasn't pleasant. 

"Well, why don't you tell me more about the adventures you've had with Fido instead? Or maybe some of the other adventures you've been on, huh?" The paladin hums, pushing her hands into her pockets and tilting her head. Anything to try and steer the conversation to brighter topics... right?

"You know, this cheeky little guy has sent me to the infirmary a couple of times..." Illanya says out of the blue, rubbing the elk's muzzle fondly despite what she just said about him. Bathovian simply snorts, pawing the ground. Illanya gives him one more pat before turning to the person she was with. 

"Sorry, that sounds really bad and out of the ordinary. You'd be surprised how often mounted warriors get hurt by their mounts, usually just by accident or like falling off them... it's never more than what we get in battle, but it still isn't pleasant when it does happen." She clarifies, reaching to bury a hand in the elk's fur as she speaks. 

"Though Bathovian's always had a bit more sass than some of the other mounts, so that could be part of it too. He's also got some heft to him so it's not really surprising when I think about it" Illanya chuckles nervously, and elk bobs his head for a moment, like he can understand what is being said. (Spoiler alert: he can!) The paladin pauses, rubbing his snout absentmindedly as she mentally decides which instance to share with her guest. 

"Oh I remember. You see, Bathovian likes to give headbutts, especially to say hello." As if to demonstrate, Illanya turns, muttering something to Bathovian before the elk turns and headbutts her. It was probably meant to be gentler, if the grimace on Illanya’s face is any indication. "Okay so, not quite that rough. He just plays a little rough with me because he knows he can get away with it." She sighs before continuing.

"Anyways, when he was younger he wasn't gentle at all, and would always headbutt me. It didn't really matter back then because he was too young to do anything really bad... but once I had forgot to visit for a week and when I went to visit...?" Illanya punches her hand as if to demonstrate impact. "He hit me full force. Knocked me out for a good 6 hours and I was throwing up and dizzy for the rest of the week after." 

Despite how severe it sounds, Illanya doesn't sound too upset about it, in fact her voice seems mirthful at least. She pats the elk's side heartily before glancing back to her visitor. "He's been better about it ever since, especially around people who aren't me... he at least knows better now... right buddy?" Bathovian huffs, shaking his antlered head, before lowering it to their visitor and slowly pushing forward. Illanya laughs, though there is a note of worry in the sound. 

"See, he's trying to say hello!" she says, though hopes that she doesn't end up having to treat a concussion after this.

The man couldn't help but chuckle. The story and the dumb elk just made him feel giddy. Prolly cause ya don't see much stuff like that anymore. To many folk usin others fer fun or are just dicks to animals. He bit his tongue to keep himself from cursing at the thought of one gal who used her falcon as a tool an nothing else. 

"Well I gotta admit, despite the big lug knockin me on my ass I gotta say, guy's a cutie" He mused as he got himself back up on his feet and laid a heavy hand upon the elk's head giving it a happy rub and a much more hearty laugh "Plus the story is adorable, few things are as close as a bone between a person an their animal companion. Gotta say person cause back where I work we got some real weird folk. Giant ass crab havin a seagull tends ta happen" he half joked "But either way, yeah dude's a sweetie and y'all are lucky ta have each other"

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Spoiler for recollecting of violence and a large ass eye of a monster

Roswell raised his eyebrows. Lowered them. Frowned and rubbed his chin. He stared Vertias as the other started his extraordinary tale. Roswell’s own, lone, eye slightly twitched at the sight of the other eye.
“Void, on a cracker,” he hissed between his teeth and stone pipe. “Why did yer take it with yer,” he said. Roswell spat over his left shoulder. “Oi’m sure dat ding is cursed,” he driedly added. Roswell rubbed his hands uneased.
“Umibozu,” he repeated with a huf. “Yer sure yer not just makin’ things up roi now?”
Roswell leaned back as the eye got lifted. He retracted his head noticeably with a wrinkled nose. “No need for a close up,” he friendly reminded Vertias.
“Void. It is disgustin’.”
Roswell’s eyebrows raised again. “Oi suppose, but why aren’t yer sailin’ to de sunset. Live  life of a king, explore some beaches with dat undyin’ body of yers,” he pointed out. “I would do dat. Not, dis,” he gestured at the eye between them.
“Oi see. Mebbe yer should get rid of it now.”

—

Roswell placed the hat back onto his face. He folded his legs and closed his eye. The damp of the grass field he lay made his under shirt sticky. He lay on his back, in the mud and turf. It would surely do wonders for his poor back.

“Oi was tryin’ to sleep,” he told you from beneath his hat.

“Oi used to take naps loike dis when oi was younger,” he said. “Back in Mosch. De wheatfields are a perfect place for a nap. Especially in de summer,” he continued. “De sun there is stron’ and de summer smell of spelt ‘nd  peat.” Roswell lifted his hat and raised his brows as he looked in your direction. “De air was sweeter down der in de south,” he said. Then placed his hat back and let out his breath. “Every here stinks of salt and broine,” he complained. “Oi miss me home.” 

--

     Ennette stood there clutching her chest and calming her breathing down when Roswell spoke. The minute she saw him on the ground, she hightailed it towards him out of fear that he was dead. Even now, watching him be so comfortable knowing full well his clothes were dirty, she had a hard time believing he was fully okay.

     She lowered her hands and clasped them in front of her while listening to the rest of his memory, gazing around to confirm the scent of salt. This other place he mentioned, though, it didn't sound at all like here. It reminded her a bit of her own home. It had occurred to her that she never knew Roswell's past. She'd always assumed he'd grown up as a thief, but could it be there had been another life before then?
     There were a lot of things she was learning since meeting Roswell, more so about herself and her upbringing. It was time to start changing some of those ways of thinking. Although she hesitated, Ennette got down on her knees, ignoring the mud staining her dress, and smiled at him. "Could you tell me more about your home?"

     "There's a myth that my family all likes what others would call bad food," Ennette hummed while casually strumming her lyre. "Some say it's a curse from my grandfather's sins, but I don't quite believe that. My father, he loves onions. I see him eating one like an apple now and then. My brother loves scallions, though I've heard them called green onions before. He has one sticking out of his mouth sometimes," she giggled.
      "Me, I love garlic. I actually tried to eat an onion like my father when I was a child, but I grabbed garlic by accident and ate it. I hated it and cried for about an hour, but I just felt compelled to try again. It wasn't as bad the second time. Then the dishes I tasted with garlic! Goodness, I'm tempted to go get some to eat right now! Would you like some too?"