prompts.

Fortune has a weird way of granting gifts, don't they? 

Rorschach wasn't sure if this was the right way to go about what he wanted to do. More discipline and power would certainly give him the thing he needed, and wanted, right? But the Corruption.. it was beginning to slip through his bones and curl into his very being. It felt heavy, dark. Much like the way he had felt after his kingdom had gone to ruin, burning around him. A heavy depression that was pressing in, and all he wanted to do was sleep. 

For the longest time, it was all he had done after the catastrophe.

The entire world had burned around him, and with stinging eyes and burning throat, he had fled.

Cowardice, that was what they should have called it. He had broken past a crumbling wall and had fled, swimming through the shallows of the lake and even further out, until his legs had burned and his head had threatened to dip under the waves. Swimming had almost killed him, but it was the only path of escape. His hooves had dragged on rocks and slippery plants that grew under the waves until he had dragged himself ashore and fallen over, and slept. When he woke up, he was bruised and battered, and he had moved onward.

Sleeping was an escape, and it was the only thing he did as he wandered for centuries. Hundreds of years of putting himself in small areas to sleep, keeping a proverbial eye and ear open for anyone coming after him. The paranoia had been horrible, and had stuck with him for far too long, even over the borders of countries, until he had finally brought himself so far south on the continent that he was staggering into a new land. Something about mages and cities, he had never paid attention to it. 

He had found a home, a hut he built and finally felt some sort of safe in, though he would wake up to the feeling of phantom flames eating at him.

Even now, he can feel it on his bones, and he frowns inwardly, aware of what was happening. He had listened for the better part of a century and a half about corruption, and comparing it to what he felt lately? Maybe he was beginning to become corrupted. Maybe it was a good thing.

Maybe he could find a sense of peace and sleep if it took him over completely. Maybe he could crawl into the depths of darkness and close his eyes to sleep. If that was the case, maybe he would continue down his path, despite what strange things Fortune was asking for.

A hand reaches up, pulling the cloak around himself more as his head dips and he thinks about it. Even in the chill of the winter day, he was warm, and maybe that was the magic and corruption beginning to slip through him. It was almost comforting.

Still, he had to think about what he had to do. Laughter at someone's expense? Was that just.. wrong? Or maybe it was something like a prank, though he was never good at that. Something.. simple, wasn't it? This little village was far enough from his home that no one would know who he was, that he could do something like this. Maybe he would find some joy in it? Maybe laugh a little himself; he doesn't even remember the sound of his own laughter anymore. He hasn't laughed in... centuries. He'd be surprised if he remembered how to do it.

A swallow, and he thinks about it, glancing around. What could he do? Well, there's paints at a stall, maybe he could do something with that.

It doesn't take long to set up something amateur in the mouth of a small alley, and someone is unfortunate enough to walk under it. They trip the wire, and the paints spill, splattering them in bright hues of color. They're aghast, but there's laughter all around from several who are shocked into it, a sound that's still unfamiliar to him. Some offer help to the stranger, but he finds a small tinge of humor and horror combating with him. Was this the nicest thing? No, but this would get him what he needs, he hopes. 

Perhaps he can visit other shrines, too, and see if they can give him what he so desperately seeks. His own fortune, his own future. He wants to know when it will all finally allow him to rest. Will he find peace? 

He pulls the cloak close again, and slips away from the mess and gathering crowd, disappearing through moving bodies with ease.