towerofanimus | INTRO LOG

Characters: The Psiioniic and YOU
Setting: Wandering
Format: Also up to the tagger
Summary: The Psiioniic is wandering and exploring his new surroundings, and is also lost. THESE AREN'T MY GLASSES.
Warning: He doesn't have shoes on.

[At first he hadn't moved much when he awoke. Like someone laying awake in bed in the early hours of the morning. A child unable to go back to bed while dismissing the notion of having to get up. At least, that's what every fiber of his being seemed to spell out. In actuality, he'd been waiting. Waiting for permission, a command, anything that guaranteed it was okay to move about.

When it didn't come and didn't come, he finally took the initiative to get up and wander on his own. The situation didn't seem to frighten him, or faze him. Instead, it piqued his curiosity and blue/red eyes quietly observed the floors. Acknowledging things in some hidden understanding.

Perhaps he is simply lost and there is no universal truth in which he seeks.

Or perhaps it is because he is barefoot and moving to keep them warm.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[He keeps up, not necessarily just in her strides but with the conversation. At the mentioning of seadwellers he seems to stop. Swallowing hard as if she'd just said his goldfish died or something. Psiioniic cringes, catching back up to her.]

There are... theadwellerth here?

[Oh yeah, definitely at least a little similar to the Psiioniic she knows. Willow slows her pace so she doesn't leave him behind, and looks over at him, concerned and wanting to reassure.]

Well-- yes, but... They don't have a monopoly on power or anything. They're still dangerous, but it's not like it is on Alternia at all. Or what I've heard it's like, [she corrects herself. Plus at least one of them thinks of himself as a lowblood, but she doesn't want to throw too many details at him too quickly.]

No, they alwayth have power. [He looks around though, eyes darting every which way to make sure there weren't any highbloods, or other trolls to hear such heresy from Willow. Like he's paranoid that someone's going to pop out of the shadows and grab them.]

Make no mithake, they alwayth have power.

They're not the only ones. [There's a dark edge to her voice creeping in.] And I'm not afraid to show them that if I need to.

[Willow thinks it's important to make it clear to him that they aren't the tyrants here that he's used to, so she adds,] Most residents of the tower don't even know who they are. If you asked the average human, they couldn't tell you what a troll is. We have a lot more to worry about than highbloods, and there's plenty of us that won't put up with them thinking they're in charge.

[He looks absolutely scandalized. Why does he always find anarchist being attracted to him? Psiioniic shakes his head, clearly wanting nothing to do with going against the royal class.]

That doeth not matter. I am a thlave, the lowetht of the low on the hemothpectrum. Ath long ath there is a highblood around I am expected to obey to their commandth and witheth.

[She doesn't know him well enough to push, as much as she hates hearing anyone refer to themselves as a slave. She restrains herself to,] If you ever change your mind about that, you know my name.

Anyway, I don't want to hassle you about it. I know it's complicated. Let's just... get you some oatmeal. [She brings that up because, look, here they are, coming out from the stairwell into the cafeteria.]

[And he doesn't persist in the previous conversation. Better to drop it while they could, less someone was indeed overhearing and someone reported it to someone... higher. Authority was something Psiioniic took seriously, at least when his life was at stake. So the topic change is quickly accepted.]

What ith oatmeal?

[As long as he keeps treating her normally, and it's not happening right in front of her, Willow can put it aside. Maybe that's irresponsible of her, but she's not under any illusion that helping someone that doesn't want it is some noble effort.

She's content for the moment to weave their way through the tables over to the kitchen.] Heated grains and milk. Or heated grains and water, but water with oatmeal is just depressing. For some reason they won't serve you anything else here until you eat some.

Thath fine. I'm not a picky eater.

[Not that he could afford to be one anyways. Heck, he's not even sure why it matters if there's water instead of milk. Aren't you supposed to be grateful that you can get a meal to eat anyways?

Regardless, he follows her closely so he doesn't lose her in the crowd of tables.]

Good, cause they don't exactly give you a lot to choose from here, and I don't recommend the restaurant. Actually, I don't recommend anything opt in. If you ever get asked to sign up for something? Don't.

[That way lay traumatizing and potentially lethal games, none of which Willow was thrilled to be reminded of. She distracts herself by making a B-line for wherever the prepared oatmeal is kept (the refrigerator?) and digging some out for him.]

INTRO LOG

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