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Entry tags:

01

Who: ~~Pelistorm~~ Wingul, anyone
Where: Forest
When: Morning of 14th
Rating: PG
Summary: Wingul prepares to run through the first suspicious face he comes across. Which would be everyone.
The Story: When he regained his senses, he was no longer at sea, but a forest. Though which forest, he did not know.

Wingul ventured with caution. There was no exit to be seen nearby, so he must have been fairly deep inside. Unsurprisingly, the foliage failed to jar his memory; however, that he was still due for an encounter with a monster proved far more suspicious. Nary a creature roamed. Not even a harmless animal, nor another human being. The forest was as silent as the dead.

There was something inherently troubling about the lack of breathing, living presence. It wasn't normal.

But he could home in on the slightest sound with the stillness of the woods, and he intended to use that to his advantage. So Wingul walked, expression impassive and senses heightened. Though he could have looked as though he were taking a stroll, he was alert and ready to draw his blade. To cut down the first target to show himself, for the fool had chosen the wrong person.

There, too, was the matter of questioning what use the object he'd discovered had. A tool of Elympios, perhaps. Either way, it was a gadget with which he had no experience. He intended to change that, as well.

( ooc: You don't have to maintain third person prose. Do reply in your desired format. )

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Fuminori likes being outside better than inside when Wonderland's events aren't conspiring against him. It's nice to only have gore pressing in on him from the sides for once, with the sky a pleasantly open black void.

The fact that "nice" and "pleasant" have become possible descriptors for the way the world looks to him is troubling.

There's another reason for wandering outside, though. If he can make himself put up with it and desensitize himself to it, maybe he can live something like a normal life again. It's like a sort of mental training. The forest just happens to be the most deserted place he could think of to do it, away from anyone who might see him panic for no apparent reason.

He doesn't move quietly by any means, though he tries his hardest not to touch any of the plants growing around him. They leave a slimy feeling on him that he's not certain is actually real.

Some distance into the trees, he comes to a stop and closes his eyes, trying to regulate his breathing. Without the distractions of people and activity around him, he's acutely aware of the landscape itself. He really should be used to this by now, but it doesn't ever seem to get any easier.

Wingul notices the breathing first.

He must be nearby, though he isn't close enough to sight the other presence. Just in case, he glances around his surroundings thrice. When nothing appears to change, he homes in on the noise, twigs and leaves crunching under his boots. No use in trying to hide his presence when he's about to reveal it thoroughly.

Swiftly, without hesitation, Wingul brushes past a thicket and turns on the person there, his sword drawn and pointed.

"And you are?"

Fuminori's eyelids snap open and, if nothing else, he recognizes a weapon when he sees one. He can guess based on the fact that it's pointed at him that he doesn't know this person.

"...You're new, aren't you?" He keeps his eyes focused on the sword, hardly glancing at the man holding it.

So to the point. The man had failed to answer his question, not even looked at him, but that suits Wingul. They just tread into potentially more important territory.

For that, he slightly lowers the sword.

"Is that an offer to tell me?"

Answers. He won't ask, simply let them come.

"There's no reason not to. Just put that away first."

Fuminori's a little surprised at how little anxiety is making his thoughts bubble, but maybe it's like he thought: people might look and sound monstrous, but they are a distraction. He's still going to keep his distance, though, and he still can't stomach looking directly at the man in front of him.

The sword hovers for a little longer before Wingul concedes and sheathes it. He hasn't been given any reason to keep it out, and if things turn unfavorable, he can always pull it back in a quick, fluid motion. What's concerning now, then, is the refusal of the man to look him in the eye.

Eyes speak for much. In some, anyway.

He lets the clink of hilt meeting sheath speak for itself, then folds his arms, waiting.

Fuminori's eyes dart up to Wingul's face, but just for an instant before he half-turns to point through the woods. Even then, he looks at the ground and not at the trees.

"You've come to a place called Wonderland. Some distance that way, the woods end, and there's a mansion."

Curious. On every account.

He turns his head to follow the point, though he's unable to see beyond the fading trees. The mansion is not terribly close, nor is it terribly far.

"Under whose leadership?"

Fuminori lets his hand drop to his side.

"No one's. There are a couple of people who call themselves queens, but they aren't really in control of anything."

"A couple queens of nothing. Is there anything else to be aware of?"

Hardly impressive. But things can't be that simple with several claims of royalty floating about.

"There's plenty."

Fuminori's silent for long enough following that statement that it probably seems like he isn't going to elaborate. In reality, he's just getting his thoughts in order. Figuring out how to explain Wonderland--the order to put things in--is almost as complex as Wonderland itself.

He decides to start with a question.

"How much do you believe in magic?"

Wingul doesn't reply immediately. Magic? Why, because it's something difficult to wrap his head around? But he's heard more than one outlandish thing as of late. Another will be far from killing him.

He looks aside, as if contemplating the answer, then turns back to the man.

"Just tell me."

Fuminori shrugs. Believing in magic, if not having experience with it, might make it easier to accept Wonderland, but he knows it doesn't make a huge difference in the end. It's hard to deny something that's staring you in the face.

"The inside of the mansion is bigger than the outside. You can stay in any of the rooms that are empty. Each room has a closet that will give you almost anything you can think of."

Except a way out, of course, but this guy doesn't seem like the type who'd make a smart remark about that possibility.

"The kitchen and dining room give us food. This place on its own isn't really that dangerous."

Rudimentary but necessary knowledge. Wingul would nod, if not for the lack of proper eye contact still. That said, that reveals more about this Wonderland than just what was explicitly relayed. This is hardly a proper settlement, much less a place anyone can leave with ease. Else why would they still be here?

His time would be spent on finding the answers.

"Then what makes it?" he asks. It doesn't matter if a place is inherently safe or not dangerous. The variables that manipulate the environment matter. "The queens? Or perhaps another external force with the power to manipulate this entire area."

"They're called events. Things change and we can't predict how the changes will manifest."

Fuminori slides his hands into his pockets, rocking his weight back on his heels. He's still looking at the ground, but he's relaxed a little as he's gotten used to the sound of the other man's voice.

"There are the people, too."

This man likes to fidget. It speaks of nervousness, something that Wingul is not predisposed to share. On the other hand, he stands tall, stiff but poised with a certain grace.

"What people?"

"The other people here. They're from a lot of different worlds, and they aren't all the kind who play well with others."

Fuminori glances at him and then away again.

"I'm Fuminori. I've been here seven or eight months. You can probably expect to be here awhile."

"I figured that to be the case," he says dryly. With that established, he adds: "Disharmony is to be expected. It is no different from a civil strife, especially when the inhabitants are as motley as they come."

"Motley, huh..." Fuminori mutters, then lets out a breath that would be exasperated if he didn't know well enough that it was an accurate assessment.

"Most of the time, people get along. Or at least have the decency to avoid each other."

"I wouldn't have it any other way," he says simply. He has neither the interest nor the incentive to change the norm of this place. Instead, he will weave through the crowd accordingly and as necessary.

"If that is all, we're done here."

"Your name."

Fuminori actually looks at him for a minute.

"I gave you mine."

That gives him pause mid-turn. It is by far the most demanding statement he has heard from this man. At that, he blinks and says equally slowly: " . . . Wingul."

He does not suppose the other would know what the means.

Fuminori has no idea. He nods in acknowledgment and looks away again.

"See you around."

"Yes. Later," he replies lightly. He turns away in full to stalk away, but not before giving Fuminori a brief, appraising glance.

Then he leaves.

[ Despite Scott's frequent habit of sleep walking, he was still somewhat aware while he slept - still attuned to his surroundings, making as little noise as possible. Even if he's still human, the pads of his feet roam silent, quiet, aware, and werewolf sense find their way into bodily movements, despite unconsciousness. They're always there, somehow, even when Scott wishes he could be normal for a minute.

Such human feet drag him from his bed, down nine flights of stairs, into the woods. If Scott were poetic, he'd say he has some sort of natural inclination into the woods because of morphed werewolf genetics, or something. Even if that's not the case, he's still roaming, still traveling a pathway in his dreams, which reflects the twigs and leaves of the real ground beneath him.

Go ahead and stab him, Hogull. Just a little bit. ]

[ Hogull cuts Scott.

Half of it is intentional. The other half, he would claim, is the boy's doing for walking straight into his poised blade. It was meant to be a warning, a gesture to grab for attention. Yet when he had heard noise and steeled to revealed himself, the sword he had drawn as a means of revealing his presence had turned into a real cut. Swift, shallow, across the cheek.

Wingul lowers his weapon and takes a leap back, brows furrowed. ]

You're – asleep.

[ The slice across Scott's cheek promptly wakes him up, and he spirals backwards, falling on his butt with a loud crack of a twig and a noise of shock. Hands dart out to either side of the side to brace himself, cringing a bit when he realizes this isn't his bedroom, and he's most definitely not cuddling with Isaac right now. Did I mention Scott only sleeps in boxers?

The look on his face is some mix of confusion and being appalled - confusion because where am I? and appalled because this dude just cut me. A hand darts up to touch the blood on his cheek, only to have the remainder of it travel back within itself and close up. Like there was no cut there at all. ]

Dude, what the hell?!

[ Everything about this situation is absurd, down to what just happened and the boy's current state. Wingul's frown downturns further into a scowl, however, when he notices the change in the boy's face.

His eyes aren't failing him. The blood there lessened. The cut healed without a single spirit arte being cast. Without the visible use of a spyrix.

Sword still drawn and pointed downward, Wingul squares his shoulders and doesn't move. Not yet. ]

Explain yourself.

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01

aw yeah logging with Jaeby (づ￣ ³￣)づ

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