* Drowsy.

       Hiiiii! God I'm so sorry for being slow on all of my blogs haa, Anywho! We haven't done a proper introduction here yet, so time to catch up! Call me Dana, or any variations of that name — you might already know me from the lovely horrible mr goose or the smug brit mr dove! no there's not an avian pattern thanks for asking <3

As you can see my activity is awfully sporadic, but should it help you; the timezone's GMT+1, aka it's 9:52pm as I'm writing this. You can reach me on twitter (@danieladotsofia) or DM me to ask for my Discord! Plain tumblr IM's are fine too, though I gotta say their notifications are a pain.

Being a minor I'm (unfortunately) still stuck in school, although as of now I got homeschooling instead until...yknow. yeah. Aside from writing, I enjoy digital art & am part of a theatre group. I also started to pick up the violin again, although I've grown awfully rusty.

Mera: Actually kid, it’s salt.

Sylvester: That’s what I said, sodium chloride.

Mera: Uh kid, that would be salt.

    "Don't take this the wrong way."

What's there to misunderstand?! It's the same story all over again, and sugarcoating it doesn't help in the slightest; it's his age, again, that's in the way. At least judging by what she said, there's no other reason given.

He can help around a bit! Don't want to overwhelm a kid! We got you covered! Oh, sorry, thought I'd be getting a real psychologist here to talk to, not, some, dang, small, CHILD —!! Things got more comfortable when he graduated and had his own practice, but — Sylvie can't afford to open one here, let alone when he barely settled down and is basically stuck with pocket money only.

Humiliating, was it. Being a highly-trained Epither user and a licensed Psychologist, yet incapable of performing either, now.

Perhaps anyone decent would have left it be, but Sylvie just couldn't, really, knowing how this is the closest to his occupation in his homeworld he'll get. Working as some Barista, or whatever else will even consider taking him — he might actually puke. Not to mention how Pride won't dare digest it. The entire stay in this city felt like a horrible & insulting joke on the independency he's worked so hard for.

Despite the emotional cacophony at heart, he'd make sure to appear calm — lest, that too, gets marked off as "childish" and a disqualification trait. Three solid knocks at the door, and he'd wait.

  "Counting Sheep," murmured a boy to himself outside, partially kneeling as golden dust slowly fell from his hands, floating. Words couldn't express the relief he had when realizing he was still inscribed; that, despite what Mera has done, he still had his Epithet. For a while there, he had thought he had just lost all of his hard work.

"Counting Sheep—!!" repeated for the xth time, growing more frustrated by each attempt.

Unfortunately, it had a catch nonetheless. Sylvie might still have his Epithet, but most of the training is now undone, to the point where he couldn't even manifest the dust in any other forms, or use them efficiently. While he already learned that it seems to be a common phenomenon around here, to lose most of your abilities and recover them later in the future —- it didn't stop him from trying, and it didn't stop him from getting frustrated, either.

   Public Transportation here was something to get used to, especially seeing how every Ward does it differently. Consistency is overrated anyway, huh?

Waiting by the bus station, impatiently he'd glance to see how long it still took for the bus to arrive, but barely a minute passed since he last checked. As if that wasn't enough, carried by the wind, there was grey smoke..?

— the awful smell confirmed it, as his expression turned to a frown. Someone was smoking. He'd glare at the direction it was coming from, revealing a young woman with a cigarette at hand, seemingly waiting for the bus as well. "Hrrghh."

  "Wait — what was that last part?"

The android was, to put it bluntly, bragging. More specifically, about their database, although Sylvie wouldn't be able to repeat what they've said; he spaced out halfway, as it couldn't have been more boring. Well, it was boring, until something they've said piqued his interest rather quickly.

  Sylvie glanced into the direction the young man was gesturing to, squinting at the building, a bit sceptical. "How do laws even work here, actually?"

Someone working in a law firm would know, right? "Is everything self-regulated? I didn't see much of an enforcement since I've arrived."

Okay, how about working a 10-hour shift on Black Friday (or your local equivalent)

SEND ME A SCENARIO

Ohhhhhh god no, I know already that I'm     bad at anything that has to do with customer relations, so if it's something like that, on top of Black Friday for 10 hours —- uhm, fuck,

I'd give my best?? I wouldn't last long but yknow—

"Reevaluate my life-choices."

WORD COUNT: 500~ > just a typical starter-drabble of showing up in spirale.

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