pontmercyfriend: (Default)
Voicemail and text messages for Marius Pontmercy.

#23 Dimera

Mar. 11th, 2023 10:12 pm
pontmercyfriend: (Default)
Mailbox for Marius Pontmercy.
pontmercyfriend: (Heart full of love)
Marius has now met Jenny, Cameron's wife, and has run into her again on several occasions, but he feels as though it's been some time since he's last met up with his friend. So he texts him asking if perhaps he would like to catch up, perhaps over coffee. There's a local bookstore with a cafe in the back that makes a wide variety of drinks, some stranger than others, but very good coffee, either way.

Marius selects this location partly because of the decency of the food and drink and partly because he feels like browsing for books while he waits for Cameron to arrive. He keeps buying and checking out new books from the library while he has a pile of them waiting for him at home, but Marius feels as though he can't help himself. There's always going to be something new that he'll want to read, regardless of what he's already read.

He finds himself in the science fiction and fantasy section, a section into which he usually doesn't venture, somewhat absorbed by the summary of a novel involving bees, zombies, and an island with dual spires. With a shrug, he adds it to the pile of two other books under his arm as he continues to browse.

Every once and awhile, he glances up at the door, checking to see if his friend has arrived.
pontmercyfriend: (Busy)
Marius doesn't especially want to go out tonight. Not when he has his finals to prepare for, as well as his myriad of essays and projects to edit and finish. He also has a meeting later this week with his advisor he'd really like to start preparing for as well. Not to mention, he hasn't slept well this past week, what with his homework and the work load at Tintern Abbey. He's just about closed nearly every night this week, this night being the first that he has free.

But Ariel, a friend and fellow student, insists that he come out to drinks with her and Nichole, her girlfriend of nearly a year, well. He couldn't refuse, not when Ariel saved his ass on a research project a couple of months back.

His first thought when they enter the bar, a place called Styx, is that he is entirely overdressed for the occasion, considering the crowds on the dancefloor and otherwise. Men without shirts and women barely wearing anything at all. Lots of glitter and noise. A vibrant place, he sees, following Ariel and Nichole to the bar.

He feels like the third wheel a moment later, when his friends make their way to the dancefloor. They promise him they'll be right back, but, well. Marius knows better; he's seen that smile on Ariel's face many times before.

Well, he thinks, laying his chin across his folded arms on the table as he considers what he wants to drink, at least he can get drunk out of all of this.
pontmercyfriend: (Salutation of the angels)
Marius has a rare afternoon free. He's spent the morning in classes, and he doesn't have a shift at Tintern today. He spent the rest of the morning and the early afternoon studying, so he thinks he's deserving a bit of fresh air and a break. So now he finds himself on one of his walks, meandering throughout Darrow with no true purpose in mind besides letting himself enjoy being out of doors.

He almost passes a store called Menewood, lost as he is in thoughts and daydreams. But a flash of something in the window display catches his eye, and he pauses. It looks to be a place of herbal medicine and healing, which peaks his interest. So he pushes open the door and makes his way inside.

The interior seems very comfortable, with a sofa and tables amid the shelves. He starts to browse, wondering if he might find something to help with his studies or help him relax, when he spots a familiar face he hasn't seen in quite some time.

"Hild?" He says, making his way over to her, hoping he's not interrupting.
pontmercyfriend: (Fool in love)
Marius can't quite believe he's taking one of the most embarrassing experiences of his life as inspiration for a date, of sorts, but here he is. Jake had texted him a date and time, and so Marius made preparations. He'd headed out a couple of hours before the end of Jake's shift, stopping first to pick up the promised wine from his work. He'd also stopped for a box of chocolates and any other supplies they might need because it seemed like the right thing to do. Plus, who could argue against chocolate and wine?

He'd found Jake's apartment unlocked, as promised. He'd put the chocolates and wine on the table, grabbing two glasses out of the cabinet in the process, placing them next the wine. He'd taken a few moments to study Jake's apartment, noting how Jake hadn't been kidding when he mentioned not having much in his flat. Still, in spite of that, Marius got a sense for Jake in the place.

He'd lounged a bit, reading a book he brought with him. An hour before he figured Jake to be due home, Marius made his way into the shower, figuring the wetter he was, the better the effect on Jake. He took his time, luxuriated beneath the hot water. He'd let the soap sink into his skin and lathered the shampoo into his hair. By the time he'd stepped out of the shower, grabbing a towel to wrap around himself, his hair looked a bit like a bird's nest.

So now he waits for Jake to come home, having already poured two glasses of the wine he brought. He reads on the floor of the living room, dressed in nothing but the towel, as promised. He lets out a contented sigh, smiling to himself. He anticipates the look on Jake's face, his smile brightening. The edge of the towel slides low on his hips.
pontmercyfriend: (The dreamer)
It's been some time since Marius has last seen Grantaire, now that his friend no longer works with him at Tintern. That, and the fact that nearly all of Marius' time is now split between work and his classes at school, renders the act of getting together to catch up somewhat of a juggling act.

However, an afternoon happens in which Marius has actual free time to spend as he pleases, and so he texts his friend to see if he might want to meet over coffee. He knows Grantaire is working hard at staying sober, so he thinks a cozy little cafe, not a bar or pub, will be a good place to meet. He finds just the place near the park, with outdoor seating when the weather warms up.

He takes a seat at a table in the corner, trying to ignore the fact that he hasn't been sleeping lately. His shoulders slump a bit; he rests the side of his head in his hand, trying to keep an eye out for his friend while also blinking furiously to keep himself awake. It seems to be a losing battle.

But this is the first free afternoon Marius has had in some time, and he means to enjoy it, exhaustion be damned.
pontmercyfriend: (A young man in love)
Marius quite enjoys exploring Darrow still, even as much as the place makes him feel trapped a fair amount of days. Still, there are always a myriad of unique, little shops to discover, to weave in and out of on one of his rare days off. Which is what he finds himself doing today, currently. He's been to a couple of used bookstores and a shop specializing in handcrafted objects. He carries bags with him from all stores, books to satisfy his reading, and some decorations to help liven up his apartment.

He decides to stop for a snack and a drink at a quirky little cafe in a corner building that reminds him a bit of the Musain, he realizes, with a bit of a pang. Still, he smiles, and makes his way through the doors.

He orders a bear claw and a chai latte drink, brings them over to a table by the window, where he can watch people stroll across the sidewalks and eat in peace. He's about to lose himself in his thoughts when a flash of blond catches his eye from the table next to his, and he realizes he knows the woman.

"Hello again, Raven," he says, waving in greeting. "Fancy meeting you here."
pontmercyfriend: (Cheerful)
When Ross offers to show Marius the area of land on which he plans to build a house for his family, Marius is only too happy to accept. He really enjoys the other man's company as a friend; they have a lot in common, both being out of time and having witnessed brutal realities. Marius appreciates that Ross understands the way he thinks, and he's thoroughly enjoyed the conversations they've had in the past.

He's a little intimidated when Ross mentions riding out on horseback, the memory of his adventure with Courfeyrac still fresh in Marius' mind. But he accepts, because, for all that he did fall right on his ass, Marius really does appreciate the quiet sturdiness of such creatures. And it is such the time of year that fresh air while in excellent company will do him a world of good.

He manages to obtain a quiet, gentle horse, closer to the size of a pony, for himself. He pets her constantly as he rides, his hands shaking a bit as they hold the reins though he tries not to let it show.

"So you're building the house yourself, then?" Marius turns to ask Ross. "That is quite ambitious. I wish you all the luck with it."
pontmercyfriend: (Busy)
Marius leaves work hungry and tired, worn down by the sudden surge of crowds at the end of his shift. As much as he enjoys Tintern's food and as much as he enjoys the discount he gets for the food, he decides not to stay and eat before leaving. He loves Tintern; he loves the people and the company, the food and the drink. But at the end of today, he just needs to find a change of scenery, and a change of a meal.

So he winds up at Semele's, another bar. He's heard good things, and he doesn't require any sort of fancy place to obtain something to eat. He shifts his book bag on his shoulder, filled with paperwork and books for his upcoming classes next year at Darrow School of Law. He figures it can't hurt to prepare himself while he has the chance; before he jumps back into shark invested waters to continue his law studies.

He sits at the bar, studying both the drink menu and the dessert menu. His stomach growls as the scent of freshly baking pie wafts through to where he's seated. He unloads his book bag in the unoccupied stool to his left as he tries hard not to actually drool.

"Right, so, I think I will definitely have to try the pie," Marius says, more to himself than anything else, glancing about for the nearest bartender or waiter.
pontmercyfriend: (Enthralled kissing)
Continued from here.

Marius delights in the huff of laughter that escapes from Freddie as he presses his hand against him, letting the breathless sound and the way Freddie's eyelids flutter wash right over him. He barely registers the noise of the door opening, clutching as he is at Freddie. He stumbles into the room, dragged by the front of his shirt, and just catches a glimpse of the space of it before Freddie has him pressed up against a wall.

He groans as their mouths meet once more, frantic and hungry; yearning for even more physical closeness, as though they could fuse together through their lips alone. Marius drinks in the sight of Freddie with eager eyes, no longer restrained by the dimly light atmosphere of the Halloween party or any sort of nerves. His mind whirls as he grasps at Freddie with desperate hands, shivering as Freddie exposes the skin beneath his shirt.

And then Freddie has his wrists pinned to the wall.

Marius' head falls back, neck arching with an elongated breath of a moan at the feeling; he shudders. He moans again into Freddie's mouth, rolling his hips forward onto the leg between his thighs, craving the friction desperately.

He whimpers into the words Freddie presses against his lips, nearly rising onto his toes and hips arching forward as Freddie squeezes his wrists. He spills curses in French and English into his mouth before he manages enough focus for coherent speech.

"As many times as you want," he whispers back, voice raw from wanting as he tries to catch his breath. He watches Freddie through heavily-lidded eyes, savoring the sight of his kiss-swollen lips and the desire radiating from all over his body. He rolls his hips again, both for the friction and to encourage Freddie further, egg him on, as the saying goes.
pontmercyfriend: (Empty chairs)
Marius wakes one morning to a bed full of cats and indented sheets, still warm from the body until recently pressed there. His gut shifts, and his breath catches. His heart tenses inside his chest, as though it, too, forgets how to breathe. He scrambles for his phone, and he makes a call.

An automated voice informs him that this number has been disconnected.

He falls to his knees, and he shakes and he cries and he aches.

He feels shards of his heart as they scatter in the midst of his tears.

His phone makes a dull thud against the carpet of his bedroom floor.


A week passes. Marius tries to keep moving. He tries to pretend that he can carry on with life as usual. He buries himself in books with every spare moment he gets; he avoids Shakespeare and poetry to the best of his ability. He avoids The Costume Shoppe; he steers clear of the library, and he tells everyone who asks him that really, he is managing just fine. (If he thinks on the lie too long, he’ll imagine Rat, shaking his head knowingly.)

He spends his breaks at work hiding in the bathroom, weeping and trying to remember how to breathe. He washes his face with cold water, and he returns to his customers, plastering a smile as false as the cracks in Tintern’s wooden floor. He keeps up the pace of even the busy days, turning deliberately when Marie or Violet try to catch his eye.

He picks up smoking from Monsieur Bernard; he lets the smoke nearly choke him with its pungency.

He drinks a glass of wine when he gets home. He feeds the cats and mice. He ignores his phone, and his friends. He curls up with a book in bed and begins to cry again.

Tonight, though. Tonight, he needs a change of pace. He needs the night air and the chance to breathe smoke and drink something stronger than wine. So he finds himself at The Purple Pig Pub, the same bar in which he once met Hook. It seems a fitting place, for what he has in mind, dark and less reputable than he usually prefers. He smokes a cigarette as he walks; he hunches in on himself, as though he could fade away with the smoke.

He makes his way to the bar, and he orders a whiskey. He follows it with a Guinness. He follows the Guinness with a shot. He follows that with a cocktail he forgets the name of, letting the buzzing numbness settle comfortably over him.

He moves to stand, ready to head home, when he almost trips over the man sitting next to him. Marius apologizes, and his words come out slurred. The man, tall and muscular, with a range of tattoos covering him, glares. He mistakes Marius’ apology as mockery, especially when, in Marius’ hurry to get to his feet, he spills the man’s drink on him.

Cut for length and mentions of blood, guns, violence, and violent imagery )

OOC: Find Marius half in, half out of the Purple Pig Pub, drunk and bleeding profusely from his leg. He won't die but the injury is pretty severe and he will be on crutches for a while. Trigger warnings for guns, gun wounds, violence, blood, and thoughts of death. Any questions, please let me know. ST/LT always welcome.
pontmercyfriend: (Plot: Sex Switch 2)
The weekend after his romantic getaway with Rat, Marius knows he cannot avoid Courfeyrac. He needs to pay him, first of all, for taking care of their pets. Also, regardless of the city's tricks, Courfeyrac is his best friend and they live in the same apartment complex. Regardless if Marius could hide away until this wears off (he couldn't; not the least of which because of work), Courfeyrac would find him out, in his Courfeyrac way.

He doesn't know how long this spell will last; he needs to see his best friend.

Marius keeps his long hair braided, the way Rat styled it over the weekend, as he wears one of the outfits they'd picked out; a pair of jeans and something called a peasant's blouse, though Marius has never seen any peasant wear any blouse like it. The shirt exposes more of his chest than Marius would like, but it is also the most modest top of their recent purchases, so he'll make do.

He grabs the money from his wallet, pausing to pet Polyphemus behind the ears, and to give Shelley a goodbye pet as well. Courfeyrac's cat namesake is off skulking somewhere.

He makes his way to Courfeyrac's door, trying to brace himself for the inevitable teasing no doubt awaiting him. He raises his hand and knocks.

"Courfeyrac?" He calls out. "It's me. I have your money for the weekend."
pontmercyfriend: (Plot: Sex Switch 2)
In spite of their conversations wanting to plan a weekend getaway for themselves, Marius jumps at the chance to get out of the city with Rat following the Founder's Day celebrations. Marius calls Courfeyrac to arrange for the care of their cats and mice; they hail a taxi, winding up at a hotel in the countryside: a quaint, luxurious establishment with an artistically designed pool arranged to blend in with the forest around the hotel, a charming restaurant with a lilac theme, and a cellar where they craft their own beer.

Marius finds them a room with an obscenely-sized bed and a balcony overlooking both the pool and the nature beyond. The atmosphere proves even more alluring with the mixed fragrances of newly blossoming flowers, the scent of wisteria particularly strong.

This vacation is entirely indulgent; they make their way to their room without even stopping in the restaurant. They barely drop their bags on the floor before they're falling into bed together, clothes and limbs tangling together in knots as they give into their passion. They pause only once to order room service.

Eventually, Marius falls asleep, though he doesn't remember the exact moment he does so. The next time he opens his eyes, the sun is filtering through the window, casting the room in a golden light. He stretches, his naked body shifting against the sheets. Marius' eyes open more fully and he glances down at his chest, which tightens as his gaze saunters down the rest of his body.

"Merde!" He swears in a soft voice as he flails and falls off the bed, sheets partly still entwined around him.
pontmercyfriend: (Bashful)
Somehow, Marius gets it in his head that he wants to venture out horseback riding. If he's honest with himself, he doesn't know where this urge comes from, but having a rare Friday off, he finds himself indulging said urge. And as it has proven a criminal amount of time since he's last had an adventure with his best friend, Marius invites Courfeyrac along without a second thought.

He waits for his friend at the stables, watching the instructor, a lovely young woman that will, no doubt, appeal to Courfeyrac's tendency to flirt with every attractive woman he happens upon, as she grooms one of the seemingly younger mares in one of the rings. She'd already assured Marius that she looked forward to taking them out to the best trails in the countryside; he smiles, breathing in the country air and delighting in this reprieve from the city, for the moment.

Running a hand through his usual, tousled hair, as he leans against the fence, Marius catches sight of himself in the mirror of a puddle by his feet. Against the increase in his freckles thanks to the season, the love marks on his neck stand out more prominently; he flushes, but he smiles at the sight. Though he knows such alterations to his appearance will draw even more teasing remarks from Courfeyrac than usual, Marius finds himself welcoming such commentary.

He glances up again when he thinks he hears footsteps approaching. Pulling himself off from the fence, he waves and heads towards where he thinks he spies his best friend.
pontmercyfriend: (Beating of the drums)
Friday nights at Tintern Abbey usually prove to be hurricanes of drinks, people, limbs flashing, and inappropriate remarks directed towards and occasionally even hailing from the staff. While not as overtly wild as other establishments, Tintern still boasts its fair share of alcohol-fueled incidents, especially on the weekends. However, tonight seemed tamer, than usually, Marius thinks, as he exits the bar and starts his walk home. They only had one person vomit at the edge of the bar, and hardly a peep from some of the regulars who usually enjoy provoking other people for sport.

He suspects it has something to do with that so-called 'fight club' he's heard rumors of, starting that very afternoon, at the start of his shift. A gathering where people of all ages and abilities can get together and have at one another with everything that they've got. He chews on his bottom lip, contemplating the idea; he imagines Grantaire is probably there. Perhaps even Courfeyrac. And while the idea strikes at his curiosity, Marius' sense of self-preservation, slim and nearly nonexistent as it may be, flickers in the back of his thoughts, preventing him from veering towards that direction.

As quiet as his shift tonight has been, Marius still finds himself longing for his couch and a good book to keep him company for the rest of the night. And perhaps he'll call Rat, just to chat. He's been on his feet all day; he wants nothing more than to sprawl lazily next to his cats for the next while.

Drifting into images of his cats, wine, books, and potential phone calls, Marius finds his head in the clouds once more. A sudden noise from a figure heading towards him only breaks through the haze of his thoughts just in time.

"Hello?" He calls out, tensing momentarily as he thinks of the increased number of vampire attacks he keeps hearing about.
pontmercyfriend: (Actually happy??)
Marius does not lie when he tells Dorian to expect the same treatment as Flavia upon his own birthday.

The week before, he made the point to walk to his favorite book store and purchase a few volumes he felt the mage would appreciate very much; a history of the world in general, a collection of ghost stories and folklore centered on Darrow traditions and mythology, a history of magic and its varied traditions through a myriad of cultures, and, a personal, recent of Marius': The Portrait of Dorian Gray by Oscar Wilde. (And perhaps Marius might have also decided upon this as a gift for the shared name between the protagonist and his friend, having felt a twinge of playfulness at the thought at the time.) On the top rests an intricately designed card, composed of various serpentine images. Marius hopes Dorian will like it.

This afternoon, Marius carries the newly-wrapped packages as he makes his way to the seventh floor of Dimera, to Dorian's rooms. He owes much to his friend, really, and he hopes this parcel of texts will help show the other man how much Marius appreciates his companionship. He struggles a bit trying to balance the books, all of which vary in thickness, as he walks, nearly stumbling into the wall on more than one occasion.

But eventually, he manages to make his way to number 32 without further hassle. Shifting the books in his arms, he knocks three times.

"Dorian?" He calls out. "It's Marius. I have your birthday present!"
pontmercyfriend: (Bashful)
He's needed to see Courfeyrac long before this, of course.

Since he first recovered from being magically shrunk to a child, really. And it has been something of an age since it's been just the two of them, old friends chatting away from even the loud space of a quiet bar. Marius knows, of course, this is his fault; he's kept himself locked away, mourning in solitude the way he once did in Paris, only pausing long enough to attend his shifts at work.

There's so much he wishes he could go back and fix, in hindsight. Especially now, when everything has changed, yet again.

He's carefully making his way towards his best friend's rooms, cradling a pot of freshly brewed coffee before him as though he were a child clinging to a stuffed animal. It's one of his favorite blends, purchased from a small cafe just down the road. Something about vanilla, pecans, and cinnamon in the flavor - he can't remember the exact name. All he knows is that it's delicious. And hopefully will help soothe his nerves for whatever comes of this conversation. (He's trying to avoid alcohol, even as much as he might want a glass of wine.)

He walks up the stairs to the ninth floor, chewing nervously on his bottom lip as he focuses on not spilling the drink. He pauses in the hallway before Courfeyrac's door to adjust his collar; he's wearing a shirt similar in style to those he wore in Paris, with the thicker fabric and the higher collars. He's also wearing his old cravat on top of that. Hopefully, the marked skin beneath won't show through.

He expels a lengthy breathe, then finally raises his hand to knock on the door.

"Courfeyrac? Are you home?"
pontmercyfriend: (Kid!Marius 5)
Awakening beneath a jumbled pile of sheets, Marius doesn't register that anything is off, at first. He yawns as he blinks awake, staring at the mostly unadorned wall across from his bed. His first thought follows the loud, rumbling noise of his stomach. Suddenly, he doesn't remember if he actually, in fact, had dinner last night at all. He'd spent almost all of yesterday reading; he must have forgotten to eat, his head too much wrapped up in both the clouds and his past week in general.


Courfeyrcat mews before pouncing on him, landing clean on the middle of his stomach. Marius winces, surprised by how much heavier his cat seems, before he blinks again and gets a good look at himself.

Most of the sheets he finds himself entangled in are his own pajamas; he is all but drowning in his own shirt, and his tiny legs are tangled in just one side of his pants. He blanches before flailing, much to his cat's dismay, and falls off the side of his bed. He makes his way to the mirror above his dresser, which, he realizes, he can't see unless he stands on the tops of his toes.

"Dieu," he exclaims, clamping his hands over his mouth at the high pitch of his voice. His hair is a brighter shade of red, longer, and even more out of control than usual; his eyes are widened, trying to take in the sight of himself. He looks exactly as he did back in Paris when he was 8. And still, Marius; stomach grumbles. How on God's green earth did he suddenly become younger again?

That's when his pajama pants slide off him completely, and Marius knows his first order of business; as much as he wants to freak out right now, he requires clothes that actually fit; and then he can have a proper cry, or whatever it is young children do these days.

"Right," he tells himself, glancing around. He owns absolutely nothing that will possibly fit him, so he'll have to go out and purchase a new outfit for himself. In the mean time...

He runs over to his bed again, crawling back up and grabbing one of the pillows. He shakes it out of the dark brown case, and takes said case with him to the kitchen; he grabs one of his belts, too, before he goes. By the time he finishes, Marius feels relatively accomplished; he's managed to fashion himself an outfit, not entirely unlike a toga - he's cut holes in the case for sleeves, and wrapped the belt around the middle to keep it up. He lacks shoes, so he'll just have to go barefoot for the time being. Inexplicably, he giggles at thought.

With all that said and done, and a mournful Courfeyrcat glaring at him, Marius grabs some cash from his wallet and makes his way to his door. Forgetting, of course, his apartment keys.

"Damn it!" He shouts, banging his tiny fist against the door after it falls shut. He groans; he'll just have to convince someone he is actually himself, he supposes. Or learn how to pick locks, whichever proves the easier option.

Still, there's nothing that can be done now; Marius needs new clothes so he looks less ridiculous. His stomach interrupts the thought with another growl. Okay, after breakfast.

He makes his way to one of his favorite cafes close to Dimera apartments. The pavement hurts his bare feet, especially with the morning chill, but he finds he doesn't mind; oddly, Marius grins at the sensation. There's something oddly freeing about being this small and having only the ground beneath him. He's tempted to run, the way he's seen gamins weaving in and out on the streets of Paris.

"Hold it, kid."

He approaches the cafe, only to be stopped by a nearby police officer he failed to notice. His shoulders tense and scowls at being called a 'kid.' He is a twenty-three old man, thank you very much. Currently trapped inside the body of an eight year old, but still. The indignity of it all.

"Yes, sir?" He says, trying to stay polite. He doesn't want to cause any trouble if he can help it. "I'm just trying to get something to eat."

"Where are your parents?" The officer asks him, peering down at him over a pair of sunglasses. He looks like a monster, Marius petulantly thinks. But then he realizes: he has to lie. He has to think of some convincing lie, just to get the officer off his back.

He is a terrible liar, even as child.

"Dead," he says, plainly, as if he were answering a simple question such as 'what's your favorite color.'

The officer stares at him, clearly taken aback by the answer. "Alright kid, I'm going to need you to come with me."

Marius glares; he really, really dislikes being called 'kid.'

But then, the policeman is reaching for him. He recoils and ducks, grateful in that moment for his small size as he turns to run as fast as he can.

"Kid, come back here!" The officer huffs, though, unfortunately for Marius, he is not the sort of police uninspired by running. Indeed, as Marius glances back, he finds the other man keeping up with him, nearly overtaking him.

Shit, he thinks, wincing as his feet stumble over debris on the sidewalk. He only barely manages to swerve and avoid a shard of broken glass; bouncing off a nearby brick building as he runs, grinning at the thrill of it. He feels like he could fly, if he just set his mind to it.

This is, of course, the moment when the officer grabs Marius by the arm.

"Alright now, kid, come on. It's alright, we'll take care of you - Jesus Christ!"

Marius doesn't think; he elbows the man where he knows it will hurt the most on instinct. And then he's off running again, making himself move as fast as he can possibly go. His stomach starts to cramp, though, as it reminds him that he still hasn't had breakfast, and suddenly, as he turns into an alley, searching for a place to hide, the dumpster, perhaps, he is actually flying, for a few, brief moments.

"Ow!" He grimaces, glancing down to find his knee cut up and bloody. Damn it all.

"Don't cry, don't cry," he mumbles to himself, chewing on his lip as though that might stop his tears. Grandfather disapproved of him crying.

He manages to right himself, clinging to the wall for support as he keeps his tears in check. He eyes the dumpster, even as the thought repulses him. Better than letting that awful man take him away.


pontmercyfriend: (Default)

July 2017



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