[ It's not deliberate, not precisely; it's just that sometimes, one spends one's entire life where telepathy is a completely fictional thing -- it's barely even utilized in stories -- and a few days of having to deal with it is not enough to undo a whole lifetime's worth of running your mental mouth. Winter certainly isn't used to it yet. ]
It's awfully crowded today, isn't it? I wonder if there's something in particular going on; I wish people would be a little more considerate about -- oh, hello, please be more careful; there is more than enough room on this sidewalk, thank you -- I wonder what they're off to in such a hurry? Maybe there is something going on. I should have been paying more attention. I should have been -- where does one even get the news in such a place? I wonder if there's a paper. Would they have something like that, in a place where magic even exists? Oh -- oh, wait, magic--
[ You might catch, under that rambling, there's a faint ringing noise. It's small and it's irritatingly persistent, exactly the sort of thing where once you notice it, it's hard to ignore. Winter's expression, however, is completely neutral as he ducks his way down a crowded sidewalk. Surely all of that isn't from one small rabbit of a boy, right? ]
[E1]
[ As a child, Winter's nurse had liked to tell stories about monsters that lurked under the bed, or in the dark spaces under the stairs. They'll come and they'll gobble up naughty children, young master, you'd best be careful.
At the time, they'd never particularly bothered him; even at a very young age, he'd been entirely practical, much to the old woman's dismay. Monsters only existed when people misused magic, and therefore the idea of them in his own home had been laughable. And even as he'd aged, stories about ghosts and other terrible things in the dark had never particularly bothered him.
Now, though... Oh, his nurse would laugh to see him jumping at small sounds, walking with his shoulder practically dragging against the wall. His fine jacket is going to be ruined, but that's something to worry about later. Right now, he's creeping along, with a icy cold trailing in his wake. His own breath is steaming faintly. And there, up ahead, what was-- ]
Wh-- is someone there?!
[ Please, let it be someone friendly. ]
[G]
[ A bookstore! Thank the Holy Mother, something familiar and comfortable. Everything else around him might be strange and awkward and take some getting used to, but some things are thankfully universal. And Winter's always happiest when he's surrounded by books.
Though there's a slight hitch in this case, because he's staring at the top shelf in one aisle, which is sadly out of reach when you barely top five feet. He does make a few gestures to get up onto his toes, though he never quite brings himself to reach out -- and then he looks around hopefully. Spotting someone nearby, he clears his throat politely. ]
I -- um, I beg your pardon, but could I trouble you for some help...?
Winter Quertis | OC
[ It's not deliberate, not precisely; it's just that sometimes, one spends one's entire life where telepathy is a completely fictional thing -- it's barely even utilized in stories -- and a few days of having to deal with it is not enough to undo a whole lifetime's worth of running your mental mouth. Winter certainly isn't used to it yet. ]
It's awfully crowded today, isn't it? I wonder if there's something in particular going on; I wish people would be a little more considerate about -- oh, hello, please be more careful; there is more than enough room on this sidewalk, thank you -- I wonder what they're off to in such a hurry? Maybe there is something going on. I should have been paying more attention. I should have been -- where does one even get the news in such a place? I wonder if there's a paper. Would they have something like that, in a place where magic even exists? Oh -- oh, wait, magic--
[ You might catch, under that rambling, there's a faint ringing noise. It's small and it's irritatingly persistent, exactly the sort of thing where once you notice it, it's hard to ignore. Winter's expression, however, is completely neutral as he ducks his way down a crowded sidewalk. Surely all of that isn't from one small rabbit of a boy, right? ]
[E1]
[ As a child, Winter's nurse had liked to tell stories about monsters that lurked under the bed, or in the dark spaces under the stairs. They'll come and they'll gobble up naughty children, young master, you'd best be careful.
At the time, they'd never particularly bothered him; even at a very young age, he'd been entirely practical, much to the old woman's dismay. Monsters only existed when people misused magic, and therefore the idea of them in his own home had been laughable. And even as he'd aged, stories about ghosts and other terrible things in the dark had never particularly bothered him.
Now, though... Oh, his nurse would laugh to see him jumping at small sounds, walking with his shoulder practically dragging against the wall. His fine jacket is going to be ruined, but that's something to worry about later. Right now, he's creeping along, with a icy cold trailing in his wake. His own breath is steaming faintly. And there, up ahead, what was-- ]
Wh-- is someone there?!
[ Please, let it be someone friendly. ]
[G]
[ A bookstore! Thank the Holy Mother, something familiar and comfortable. Everything else around him might be strange and awkward and take some getting used to, but some things are thankfully universal. And Winter's always happiest when he's surrounded by books.
Though there's a slight hitch in this case, because he's staring at the top shelf in one aisle, which is sadly out of reach when you barely top five feet. He does make a few gestures to get up onto his toes, though he never quite brings himself to reach out -- and then he looks around hopefully. Spotting someone nearby, he clears his throat politely. ]
I -- um, I beg your pardon, but could I trouble you for some help...?