#wilson 01

[homunculusrune]

@sciencysciences​

Ever since this all had started, the message had been absent from his phone altogether, seeming content with letting him make that one dubious ‘choice’. Now, however, something similar to the same lurching moment seizes him- everything goes dark, light extinguished.

From an outside perspective, somewhere on Volaat’s tangled shoreline, a body would be lying as if it’s simply a piece of flotsam- only for it to lurch to its own feet in a single motion, writhe slightly, and then-

...Huh. 

He’s been... relocated, he guesses. 

He crouches to pick up the piece of metal he dropped when he glitched, pleased to find it still there, and in that exact moment he realizes he has a witness.

He stares blankly for a moment, one hand still outstretched for the iron, and then waves sheepishly with his other hand.

[gyre-and-gimble]

It’s been a little while since Wababjack has arrived, but she’s finally managed to find her way home. It’s nice here, she thinks. The surrounding area is very interesting, what with the pink flowers in the trees and the curving shapes of some of the roofs. Still, she’s more concerned with having a home for the first time in her life. What’s it like on the inside? 

As she enters, though... She’s immediately overcome with the urge to check the fridge. That hunger won’t go away, and she knows there’s food in there. She stumbles over, opening the fridge with a little crackle of the jars inside before she starts grabbing things, tearing open wrappers and shoving food into her mouth.

@sciencysciences

[obcultused-blog]

@hatakethatnature

      “Watch your head!”

      The warning probably came as short notice to anyone that may have been around at the time, as it wasn’t long after the notice that a large chunk of scrap metal was hoisted out of a dumpster on the side of the road. So sure, his method of gathering materials wasn’t particularly dignified, but in a time of such desperation it would have to do. In any case, once he hears the piece clatter to the pavement, the man to whom the voice had belonged looks out from his perch of a dumpster at the man he’d almost hit with flying debris.

      “Sorry, didn’t mean to almost...” His eyes drift down to the scrap metal, then to the stranger. “You know. Anyway, don’t mind me.” And with that, he ducks down into the receptacle to find more useful garbage.