07-20-2021, 06:01 AM
(This post was last modified: 11-18-2021, 08:47 PM by Misha. Edited 4 times in total.)
Misha
"Got your hands in the devils pockets
Got everything to lose..."
"Got your hands in the devils pockets
Got everything to lose..."
Misha could have been at home, being worshiped and loved by all like the Messiah he was. Now he was some sort of spawn of Satan (Andraste), forced to do her bidding. Now on a mission to scout about. His wounds from 'discipline' were finally healing. They better be with the amount of care and attention he puts into himself. As much as he griped he was slowly, but surly, trying to accept his new mother. And whenever he did indulge in the thought of a new parental figure, happy butterflies entered his stomach that would cause him to bit his lip until it bled. She would never replace his actual mother, never. The wounds started stinging again from the mental trauma that was beginning to grow like a weed in his brain. His head was going to be filled with ugly pointless flowers at this rate. Perhaps when they blossomed it would mark an acceptance, the point of no return.
Getting over himself for the moment, he began to scout the area. Despite being in the grasslands, he was in a wooded area with healthy trees standing proud. The sun trying to let all know its presence, almost seeming to sizzle with frustration from how the branches blocked fractions of it from view. For it was not the main star of this place. The flowers were. In vibrant hues of purples and blues, they dominated the grass in abundance. The gentle sway of the wind moving them in a rhythmic way that almost made the ground look like it was breathing. Misha noted many of the variants to be of wildflowers, and though normally he would sneer at that fact, he could not help but to respect the home they have made for themselves. What he did not respect, however, was all these obnoxious insects! Ugly, noisy, and in the way. Not even the butterflies could win him over.
Finding a quaint spot where a few beams of the sun shone in, Misha laid down in a bed of lilac colored flowers with a big sigh. His appearance seeming striking with all the flowers that hugged his lean form. It was time for a break. The more he stalled, the longer he could be away from Mother. Pretending the flowers were the peons from home surrounding him with attention, he drifted off into a nap, being the most relaxed he had been since he woke in this strange world.
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