Author Topic: HIT THE PAVEMENT / OPEN  (Read 283 times)

Offline BRUCE H.

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HIT THE PAVEMENT / OPEN
« on: October 23, 2017, 12:13:26 AM »
/ just needed to practice a writing style so have some knives, nothing is important but the first two are Especially not important

This last year has felt lazy, looking back. Since his return to the lodge, life has been relatively simple. That's perhaps something of an overstatement, but situations always seem easier when looking back on them. Life before the blackout had been idyllic. He remembers sitting in his mother's lap at church, and having Alfred read to him at night. The world has taken a crueler turn, and while he's gotten accustomed to the hurt over all these years, who can blame him for looking forward to better days? Things are getting there, slowly, but not even the sweetest words can fully soothe all of the bruises left. At most, they inspire him to allow them to heal on their own, and that's more than he could ever ask for. Even still, life continues to add to the aches, like a storm that never fully subsides. The most anyone can do is master the waves and make it to shore. Today, he feels more lost at sea than he's felt for some months before. There are a million different solutions. Talking to someone he trusts usually does the trick, or asking for a spar.

But today, if only today, Bruce decides to relish the feeling. The turbulence, the chaos. He stands outside even though he abhors the cold. It tinges his cheeks a soft pink, and he tugs his jacket a little closer around his shoulders as he walks. He tries to keep his focus on his feet instead of his surroundings. The rustle of a tree was from the wind, not a person. The crunch of footsteps is a returning patrol, not an attack. It's difficult, and his mind still pays rapt attention, but he makes it to the barn without incident, lifting his head just in time to see the slight wear around the door. A faint smile crosses once-stern features that had softened over the last few months, still firm but without anger or hurt. He can hear the dogs wrestling just inside, decently warm in the well-bedded interior and safe. The yak's faint grunting, and the sound of hooves. Everything is distant — the walls are thick, and that's why he chose this place to begin with.

He counts a few paces back in long, easy strides, one hand pushed far into his jacket pocket and the other rubbing absentmindedly at his jawline, rough with stubble. The hand in his pocket traces over a smooth, familiar shape, but when Win shifts to pull the folded knife free, it feels unfamiliar in his palm. It's been too long since he used this, even to train, and once more the point shifts back to how lazy he felt. Were he feeling more sensible, he would say that he hadn't touched them because they're deadly, they're meant to harm. Yet his eyes focus on a small square of board on the side of the barn, one that he picked due to the nails on either side and above it. Easy to judge accuracy. His body moves like clockwork after that, without conscious thought. Bruce is relaxed, standing easily at his full height; his left foot shifts back slightly. The handle fits perfectly in his palm, an easy weight that he begins to register. It's almost funny, how easily he falls back into this violent routine. Even without the blood, he remembers what this knife has been used for. He remembers leaving it on the night stand for Dick when he left, as a quiet reminder. It meant a lot to him — he wishes that it didn't.

When it leaves his hands, there's one full spin before it connects to the wood, but it sticks perfectly with a satisfying sound. He hisses, shaking his head slightly. A little too far left. In his box, but not as good as he used to be. "Out of practice," he sighs. Needs work.
 
Spoiler: IN AN EFFORT TO REMEMBER WHAT BEING MENDED FEELS LIKE | 10/18/2017 • show
‣ Bruce Gideon Holloway / Usually Introduced as "Win" / Cisgender Male / He + Him Only
  IF YOU'RE ASSUMING YOUR CHARACTER LEARNED WIN'S NAME OOC, PLEASE USE WIN.
‣ 26 Years / Feb. 19 / NPC x NPC; Deceased / Brother to Jason / Adoptive Father of Damian
‣ Gray-Biromantic Bisexual / 97% Monogamous / Very Possessive / Taken by Dick Holiday
‣ Co-Dictator of Flintlock Lodge / Ex-S/HP x2 / Tends to wander at times, often for scavenging.
Main Character Tropes: Death Glare, Disapproving Look, and Faces Death with Dignity

6'4 & 180-230 lbs. | Muscular, solid build, well-defined and imposing but not overwhelming.
‣ Slightly wavy hair, between dark brown and soft black. A bit shorter on the sides and messy.
‣ Pale steely blue eyes. | Usually scowling or at least looking irritated. Will smile around family.
‣ Pale but overwhelmingly warm skin. Usually tanner and lightly freckled if exposed to the sun.
‣ Heavily scarred; most of them are hidden under his shirt. Some visible on knuckles and face.
‣ Wears layers. Achromatic undershirt, long-sleeved work shirt, and a hoodie/black field jacket.
‣ Wears a black promise ring on a cord around his neck, and his engagement ring on his hand.

‣ Heavily bruised from fights, though he doesn't tend to let that pain show. Sore, aching, tired.
‣ Is recovering steadily, and he will likely get his strength back within a few weeks or a month.

Overall Attitude. Broken Ace, Friend to Children, Deadpan Snarker, Defiant to the End.
‣ Abrasive, domineering, irritable. Tends to dislike taking orders from anyone he doesn't trust.
‣ Disciplined, and typically calm. Can sometimes seem blank or may hyper-focus on one thing.
‣ Oddly gentle, particularly with kids or teenagers who have been through some sort of trauma.
‣ Borderline playful with people that he really likes; will smile, tease and play games with them.
Measured, collected & steady. Holds himself and those around him to very high standards.
‣ Would die for a stranger, but can be particularly overprotective of his family and close friends.
‣ Can be incredibly charismatic when he wants something. Typically won't hold a conversation.

‣ Strength: 9 / Perception: 10 / Endurance: 8 / Charisma: 5 / Intelligence: 9 / Agility: 6 / Luck: 1
‣ Strength, endurance, and agility are the result of training. Perception due to hypervigilance.
‣ Difficulty is determined by skill, with an opponent of the same size + life/combat experience.
90/100 Physical Defense / 50/100 Psychological Defense / 70/100 Short-Term Recovery
‣ Nonviolent actions may be powerplayed, as long as they cause physical discomfort at most.
‣ He's very unlikely to react well to any sort of physical contact right now, aside from his family.
「 BOY, DON'T WORRY 」
YOU'LL FIND YOURSELF; FOLLOW YOUR HEART IF NOTHING ELSE  |  BRUCE HOLLOWAY  &  TAGS

Offline manw

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Re: HIT THE PAVEMENT / OPEN
« Reply #1 on: October 23, 2017, 10:48:55 PM »
/shitty post is shitty mhmm

His life has been simple. The hierarchy wasn't overcomplicated; everyone knew their parts and they knew what happened if they didn't play them. It wasn't easy, and it wasn't comfortable, but he didn't know anything else. As far as he'd known, that was how all life was, with people controlling other people, except he wasn't seen as a person. He was property. Manwë still thinks of himself in that way: not as something human, but runaway property. The people here don't treat him like that's what he is, though. He's been given autonomy that he doesn't know what to do with, and they've fed him without directly controlling his intake. He can sleep when he wants and wake up at his own time. Manwë can go hide with the rabbits and no one yells for him, tossing in threats of punishment if he doesn't show himself in ten seconds. It's so different from what he's known, and he has to ask himself who he is now, if the people he stays with see him as something else. He doesn't think it's an answer he can make alone. What he does and what he were determined by other people, so who's right? Are they both wrong? They can't both be right. Either he's a possession or he's a person; he can't be the two things at the same time.

Maybe he shifts between them. With the masters, he's their property, and with these people, he's their fellow.

He can't stop acting like he's the former, though. Up until now, that's who he's been. A lifetime of learning would take more than a month to undo, if it should even be undone, and Manwë bites his tongue to pull out of his thoughts. It's not as though he can go to someone and ask them what they see when they look at him; they wouldn't know what to say, and they wouldn't know what he's asking. If they did, would he be able to trust them? He doesn't know, and the walls have started closing in on him, so he escapes outside into the cold, bare feet suffering in the snow. Manwë crosses his arms for warmth and walks, staring at the ground, and because of that he doesn't notice that he's approached someone until he hears a thunk and flinches. Not too far off is a small barn, and the man (what else does he call him?) stands in front of it. He's thrown something, and Manwë pads closer to see the knife embedded in the wood. The man hasn't retrieved it yet. Hesitantly, he reaches for it, and works it gently out of the board.

He swallows, and heads toward the man with the knife sheltered in his fingers. Manwë is cold, and the metal blade makes it worse, but he doesn't stop walking until he sees his feet, and that's where he holds the knife out. He braves a glance at his face, a bold move he'd have been struck for not a week ago, but this is a face he's already seen smiling. Even though discomfort makes him drop his eyes, he still looked, and he has the same features of the smiling man, so he decides now that he's not what the masters are. A red apple is sweeter than a green apple, in spite of their similar shapes. "Out of practice?" He sounds confused. He didn't see the throw, but he saw the result, and it's more skilled than any other throws he's seen.
Spoiler: ANOTHER STAR, YOU FADE AWAY — INFO • show
manwë (no surname) ★ 20 years old ★ amab, male pronouns ★ dob unknown
sexuality unknown ★ no history of romantic relationships ★ no present desire for a relationship
enslaved at age six ★ has no recollection of family or life outside of servitude in the orchards
has recently escaped to flintlock lodge ★ illiterate; speaks english, french (i do not)
french sentences usually in italics; occasionally written in french (usually single words)

moroccan-russian-french background ★ medium-brown skin with cooler undertones
165 cm (5'5") ★ weighs 120 lbs. ★ mostly slim with hard, ropey muscles from rough labor
head is a mop of thick, almost black curls ★ large almond eyes are a bright hazel green
wears a tattered tunic-style top ★ torn pants are loose and baggy; cloth is very thin
covered in thick lash scars criss-crossing his back, shoulders, arms, and back of thighs

subdued in interactions ★ rarely speaks and does not look directly at speakers
wavers between silently hostile and timid depending on the company kept
friendly actions may be power-played ★ flinches from any kind of contact
I WANT TO BE FEARLESS BUT MY HANDS SHAKE

Offline BRUCE H.

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Re: HIT THE PAVEMENT / OPEN
« Reply #2 on: October 26, 2017, 05:30:44 PM »
/ me, late to my own thread because i procrastinate,
and lmao shhh, your post is wonderful

Simplicity could hardly be equated with pleasantry, could it? He had heard his father say once that those who were looking for everything to be handed to them should go to prison. In the moment, he hadn't understood it. It hadn't even been directed to him, or important, but he'd pondered over it later, when he was older. It was then that he understood. In prison, everything was secure. You got steady meals, a place to sleep, a schedule to keep. Everything about your life was perfectly guaranteed, but you no longer had the freedom to choose. Back then, he hadn't understood just how terrible it was to take that from someone unwillingly. Not knowing what to wear, eat, to do. He had never been told that he was property, but his decisions had been carefully controlled. He was offered the option of bad and worse and allowed to think that that was freedom, but if he strayed too far off the path, he was snarled at. People expected inventive thinking yet never allowed it. It said something about his resilience that he still somehow made it. But people who did not have that resilience weren't weaker.

All in all, he's not certain what he thinks of Manwë yet, but he knows that it's not property. Win isn't capable of considering something breathing property. He can't even stand the people who lash out at dogs or horses who don't perform their job perfectly. They live, and they fear. They deserve safety. Particularly those creatures who can wonder about their place on the earth, and with the people around them. Somehow, his protective nature had survived this onslaught of hell — the people who have been through the worst things typically come out the kindest, don't they? Win isn't sure who he would be if he hadn't been through everything that he had. He'd managed to come to terms with everything lately; he managed to remind himself that with eve one change, he could be somewhere entirely different. They have to grow from where they are instead of hoping for the ability to change what already happened. A hard but necessary lesson.

Most in life were. Despite how difficult it can be, at times, he learns to accept them one at a time. With Manwë, it was that he couldn't be bothered by the fact that he doesn't meet his eyes. He's never fully come to terms with the fact that some people are just scared of him — the people that he doesn't want to scare, at least. Fear was a weapon, a tool, but there are times when he wields it unwillingly. Even though the smaller man isn't looking up, Bruce does his best to soften his body language. It leaves him vulnerable; he's always been powerful to keep others from hurting him. "You didn't have to do that," he murmurs, voice quiet and light as his head tilts almost curiously. He was perfectly capable of retrieving the knife on his own, and he can't decide if it was kindness or simple routine that made Manwë do it now. At his question, Win chuckles. The sound is mellow despite its breathlessness. "Been a while; used to be better. You ever tried?"
 
Spoiler: THERE’S SOMETHING WRONG INSIDE MY BRAIN | UPDATED OCTOBER 25, 2017 • show
BASIC INFORMATION  /  BIOGRAPHY  /  PLOTTING
▪ Bruce Gideon Holloway; goes by Win more often than Bruce.
▪ Cisgender male; he/him/his only. Bisexual and demi-biromantic.
▪ 26 years old, born February 19th on the upper east coast, USA.
▪ Co-Dictator of Flintlock; Promoted/Demoted (stepped down) twice.
  — ask about unofficial titles (ex: unofficial dad, local hero, whatever)

RELATIONSHIPS  / HEART CHART  /  GENERAL STATUS
▪ ½ Boysoldier; taken by Dick H. Engaged July, together for six years.
  — although they play jealousy games with each other, he's devoted.
▪ Adoptive Father of Damian. Older brother to Jason. Mentor to Brendan.
▪ Son of Elizabeth and William Holloway, both deceased when he was six.
▪ Only trusts Dick, Johannes, Gray, & Rudolf. [Megaera, Stevie, Camael]
▪ Allows complete contact from Dick, Damian, Brendan, and other children.

APPEARANCE  /  VAGUE REFERENCE  /  HEALTH: 95%
6'4 & 220 lbs | Broad, imposing build. Intimidating and muscular. Well-rounded but large.
▪ Thick, soft black hair. A little wavy when long; shorter on the sides. Slightly sun-bleached.
▪ Warm yet pale skin that is often darkened with sunshine. Very faintly freckled shoulders.
▪ Pale, steely blue eyes. May seem cold and unapproachable; expressions seem limited.
▪ Heavily scarred, mostly centered around his torso and arms and hidden. Some on his face.
▪ Wears layers. Typically a black or white undershirt, a work shirt, and dark hoodie or jacket.
▪ Very few accessories. Black promise ring on a cord under his shirt & an engagement ring.
  — major injuries will go here

PERSONALITY  /  ATTITUDE  /  LIST OF CURRENT TROPES
▪ INFJ (The Architect); Slytherin; Chaotic Good. Strictly moral, yet also extremely merciful.
▪ Measured, steady, and very calm. Objective and logical, with an overwhelmingly kind heart.
▪ Still, a relatively abrasive, dominant person. Incredibly controlling, but not out of ambition.
▪ Rough around the edges and tough but with a very gentle inside. Protective and loving.
▪ Adaptable and caring in his own way. Gentle with those who need it, but not afraid to push.
▪ Playful with people he likes. Will tease & mess around with them, but distant with strangers.
▪ Overly protective, and oftentimes bad at communicating. Can be very charismatic at times.
▪ Typically can't hold a friendly conversation. Prefers to be professional instead of personal.

INTERACTION & COMBAT  /  COMBAT PRAGMATIST  /  DIFFICULT
▪ Strength: 9; Perception: 10; Endurance: 9; Charisma: 5; Intelligence: 9; Agility: 6; Luck: 1
▪ Strength, endurance, and agility are the result of training. Perception due to hypervigilance.
▪ Difficulty is determined by skill, with an opponent of the same size & life/combat experience.
100/100 Physical Defense / 50/100 Psychological Defense / 70/100 Short-Term Recovery
▪ Resilient; currently more open to psychological harm or manipulation due to recent events.
▪ Nonviolent or peaceful actions may be powerplayed, though he may not react well to them.
「 BOY, DON'T WORRY 」
YOU'LL FIND YOURSELF; FOLLOW YOUR HEART IF NOTHING ELSE  |  BRUCE HOLLOWAY  &  TAGS

Offline Gray

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Re: HIT THE PAVEMENT / OPEN
« Reply #3 on: October 27, 2017, 07:56:58 PM »

Can't take the kid from the fight
Take the fight from the kid

He doesn't look at this as an unproductive year - in fact, it is perhaps the most productive one he's ever had. He'd gotten away from the nightmare of living with the Hansons, and found... this place. He still refused to call it home, but it was something. He had something to care about, someone. He had a job, and he was learning. Things were good, mostly.

He'd never been treated like a slave. A prisoner yes, but not a slave. He'd never really been able to skirt his chores, not with the Rivendares or Hansons or here, but if he hadn't wanted to do them, technically he could get away with not. When Diana was alive, she let her adopted kids come and go as they pleased (though Gray had always stayed with her). After she died, her brother did his best to keep the kids at home, claiming that he just wanted to keep them safe. He didn't understand why Gray couldn't stay anymore, and did everything in his power to prevent him from running away. In the end, the teen had gotten away.

The Ranger had spotted Win making his way to the barn, and followed a few dozen meters behind, hoping for another training session. When he arrived, he found the older man talking to another Lodger, Manwë. He hung back for a minute, then shuffled forward. "Christ Win, 'used to be better'? That's still pretty fucking good." Better than he could do, anyway. His aim with a gun was excellent, with a knife? Not so much. He glanced at Manwë, wondering if he knew anything about fighting. What could he say? He was always on the lookout for someone to be trained by or with.

//please this is a shitty post
Spoiler: Tags | 10/11/17 • show
General — biograhpy
▪ Grayson Hanson | Gray | Formerly Aria Rivendare
▪ Masculine presenting | Identifies as male | He/Him | DFAB
— Almost impossible to tell his birth gender (get Pyre's permission before having y/c know)
▪ 15 years, 9 months | 2/1/22 | Ages primarily real time
▪ Ranger of the Flintlock Lodge

Physical — reference
♦ HUMAN | Health: 100%
— Gray is about medium height at 5'6", and very thin and lanky. He has gray eyes, and off-black hair cropped into an undercut. Under his left eye he has a beauty mark, and there are a few scars on his medium-brown skin, and there are more under the slate gray bandanna, hoodies and jeans the gangly teen tends to wear (though currently he's wearing a black cloak and likely a scream mask). There are three pierces in his right ear, two in his lobe and one in the cartilage.
minor injuries: n/a
major injuries: n/a

Important Info — roleplayer
▪ In no way shows that he was born female, does everything possible to hide it (such as binding) and wears clothes meant for men. Without him stripping, it's pretty much impossible to tell that he isn't biologically male.
▪ Low-key history nut.
▪ Nearsighted.
▪ Has a blue pit bull puppy named Brianna.
▪ Opinions and motivations are Gray's and Gray's alone and are not shared by his roleplayer.

Personality — personality type
— DETAILED IS STILL A BIG WIP
— Articulate; contemplative; efficient; driven; incisive; intelligent; meticulous; orderly; perceptive; practical; rational; self-sufficient; shrewd; vigilant; witty, enigmatic; frank; neutral; placid; private; reserved; restrained; stoic, abrupt; aloof; assertive; blunt; calculating; coarse; critical; cynical; distrusting; morbid; opinionated; pedantic; sarcastic; self-serving; unreliable; vindictive

Relationships — heartchart
▪ Val x Summer Rivendare | Adopted by Diana Hanson
▪ Pansexual| Panromantic | Monogamous
▪ Dating Hux | Crushing on Hux
▪ ½ Graux
▪ Generally puts on a friendly front and cares for those around him, but still holds them at arms' length and is very hard to get close to. Very awkward when flirted with and doesn't really like it, but becomes quite flirty when drunk

Interaction — plotting thread
— Medium Physically | Hard mentally
— Still in training
— Prefers to fight with a machete, but can go hand-to-hand
— No kill/capture/maim without permission
— To attack, @Gray and attack in underlined #708090
I KNOW THEY'RE THINKING
[ ❝YOU'RE TOO MEAN, I DON'T LIKE YOU, FUCK YOU ANYWAY❞ ]
Grayson & Trans Male & Sixteen & Flintlock Lodge

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Re: HIT THE PAVEMENT / OPEN
« Reply #4 on: October 28, 2017, 04:17:00 PM »
Perhaps of everybody, a child should be the least likely to look back at a year and deem it unproductive. Damian's only really been "out of action" for a couple of months, and that was entirely... his fault. True, he didn't break his own bones, didn't punch a hole straight through his own childhood, but he did try to wield a bat against a grown man who has always been (will always be, if he's not careful, a part of his mind whispers) stronger than him, angrier than him, more desperate than him. He was bedridden for weeks and even after he managed to hobble about without feeling as though his entire body was about to break beneath him, he felt, constantly, a sense of absence, as though he was missing something— everything— like life was passing him by. It's a strange sensation, particularly at such a young age, but he'd felt an un-fillable void pressing between his lungs and straining against his ribcage, and though it's retreating now, it's still there, impossible to ignore and aching on some days, when he's left with his thoughts.

Today is not one of those days. He still feels tender, vulnerable, strangely mortal, but he's doing... okay. Bitter, confused, afraid of the losses of people he can only hope he'll get to see again soon, but he's coping. "Good?" Damian drags his tongue along the back of his teeth, bares them in an amused sort of grin. He still obviously favours his left side when he steps, but his gait is unmistakably a strangely-relaxed, nigh-cocky saunter, and he reaches up to try and press his palm against Bruce's arm, leaning his weight against the man's leg. "Nnno. His aim was off— wasn't it, father?" He scrunches his nose against the cold but manages to look strangely happy, eyes bright with mirth even as he huddles closer to shield himself from the brisk wind. "When are you going to show me these tricks?"

Spoiler: I WILL LEAVE MY TARNISHED CROWN / INFORMATION, UPDATED 22ND OCT • show
& Damian Reid Holloway / No Real Nicknames / Cis Male / Masculine Pronouns
& Undisclosed Sexuality; Too Young / Single / No Predetermined Love Interest
& Approx. 6 y/o / NPC x NPC; Adopted by Bruce and Dick / No known siblings
& Lives in Flintlock Lodge / Doesn't wander as much as he used to anymore

& 104cm & 39-40lbs / Small for his age, but healthy for his height. / Ref #1 & #2 & #3
& Has warm, olive-brown skin; mostly smooth, save for freckling on his nose and cheeks.
& Mostly-green eyes; can range anywhere from emerald to an almost blue-grey shade.
& Has soft, childlike features. Almost cherubic, but with a startling capacity for stoniness.
& Developing lean muscle due to daily physical exertion. Losing some of his puppy fat.
  Only recently mostly-healed after being badly injured; currently softer and slimmer.
& Arms and legs covered in multiple pale, almost-invisible scars resembling scratches.
& Has a longer, shallow-ish, more prominent scar across the right side of his stomach.

& All former injuries are mostly healed, though his jaw and right leg still ache at times.
& May sometimes still use a crutch / lean on someone or something to help him walk.

& Defensive and sometimes too-sharp. Cold, wary and hostile at his worst. Stubborn.
& When relaxed, opens up and becomes warmer. Offers gentle displays of affection.
& Polite most of the time, but still outspoken when challenged. Brash and reckless.
& Always nicer and kinder around animals than he is around people. Good with pets.
& Dislikes being patronised. Eager-to-learn and fairly mature. Wants to help others.
& Has no real authority, though may sometimes act like he's in charge. Mostly obedient.
& Upset by abandonment. Insecure; hides his fears with a mask of arrogant confidence.
& Independent and mercurial, but developing self-control. Starting to bottle problems up.

& Currently owns two dogs: Titus [Great Dane, 3 y 2 m/o] & Ace Jr/Prince [Bandog, 6 m/o]
& Also currently owns a black and white kitten [9 weeks old] — unnamed; gender unknown

& Untrained / Unskilled with Guns / Unskilled in Combat / Relies on Melee Weapons
& Aware of own weaknesses / Rarely begins serious fights / Doesn't overestimate self
& Aims for the stomach, groin & knees / Will swing at the head, chest or throat if he can
& May utilise his dogs as weapons / Unafraid to bite and scratch if caught/disarmed
& Attack/interact with in underlined or another way / Get attention with @DAMIAN H.
& Nonviolent actions can be powerplayed / Reactions may vary with mood.
james drachen / julian devorak / damian holloway / timothy haywood
new subs being made // old ones merged

Offline manw

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Re: HIT THE PAVEMENT / OPEN
« Reply #5 on: October 29, 2017, 07:02:18 PM »
Manwë does not know if going through a fire makes someone more empathetic to the others who do and have. He's seen cruelty in his fellows, and he's seen gentleness from among those of the masters. Not all, but one or two. Escape plans have been thwarted not by the work of only the dogs and the masters, but by whispered words into their ears by their workers. Manwë has seen this, and has seen, too, a master's son secretly nurse one of them back to health. The way they looked at each other was like the way the forbidden loves among the workers. He said nothing. He did nothing. Manwë was not the escapee, and he wasn't the snitch; he just did his work in the trees and the fields and saw as much as he could without a word. From where he is now, he obviously did not stay that way. His healing leg throbs, still, from the repercussions of escape. At night he trembles, sometimes waking expecting to see the masters, and throughout all this, he does not know if struggle makes people kinder. It changes them, but not always for the better.

He doesn't know yet where he falls. Some days he doubts he's a person at all, so how is he supposed to decide what kind of person he is if he can't know if he is one to begin with?

Manwë knows few things, but he knows the people here don't expect the same things the masters did, and he knows it was a choice to take the knife. A simple one that terrifies him more than the man does, who no longer makes Manwë shrink because of a specific fear toward him. He does it because he can't meet anyone's eyes yet. "I...know." He swallows thickly and keeps staring at the snow, but it's better now, even if he's cold. The laugh helps, reminding him of the way he'd smiled, distinguishing him from the masters more. "No. I threw apples, sometimes. Not- not knives." Manwë starts to drift away when he hears someone else, and it's a boy he's seen on occasion. Faintly, he envies how someone younger than him can keep his head that high.

Manwë's only truly startled when there's a chd, and he drops his gaze again hurriedly. The man is his father? How he acts reminds him of some of the masters' children. He seems sharper at the edges, and he knows the boy would never do as those children did because the man is his father, but he's reminded anyway of how the curious ones would beguile the others into a game, and how they'd deny everything when the masters came. Their little fingers would point at the stupefied workers. That's not him. They're not him. The people here are good, and he repeats this to himself, but he doesn't know if it's working.
Spoiler: ANOTHER STAR, YOU FADE AWAY — INFO • show
manwë (no surname) ★ 20 years old ★ amab, male pronouns ★ dob unknown
sexuality unknown ★ no history of romantic relationships ★ no present desire for a relationship
enslaved at age six ★ has no recollection of family or life outside of servitude in the orchards
has recently escaped to flintlock lodge ★ illiterate; speaks english, french (i do not)
french sentences usually in italics; occasionally written in french (usually single words)

moroccan-russian-french background ★ medium-brown skin with cooler undertones
165 cm (5'5") ★ weighs 120 lbs. ★ mostly slim with hard, ropey muscles from rough labor
head is a mop of thick, almost black curls ★ large almond eyes are a bright hazel green
wears a tattered tunic-style top ★ torn pants are loose and baggy; cloth is very thin
covered in thick lash scars criss-crossing his back, shoulders, arms, and back of thighs

subdued in interactions ★ rarely speaks and does not look directly at speakers
wavers between silently hostile and timid depending on the company kept
friendly actions may be power-played ★ flinches from any kind of contact
I WANT TO BE FEARLESS BUT MY HANDS SHAKE