Marius (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
pontmercyfriend) wrote2015-04-12 07:02 am
pontmercyfriend) wrote2015-04-12 07:02 am
Entry tags:
Running around like a clown on purpose.
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.
"Mrow?"
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.
"Mrow?"
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.
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