emil

Probably the biggest difference between Paralia and Kairos was the relative peace and quiet in this place. Minus the occasional sputtering engine somehow still running on diesel, choking out puffs of grey smoke, this was a place where you could actually hear the birds sing, even in the middle of the day. Where the roads weren’t packed with cars and the stars shone clear in the night sky.

In some ways, it was everything Gintoki needed. Genuine respite from the burdens life had loaded upon his broad shoulders, a break from the things he considered troublesome and a time of peaceful lazing around. And yet it, the story told was not quite as pretty as all that.

His nights had been filled with haunting images that meant nothing, starting after a single dream of war and belonging. They weren’t nightmares per se, but they kept him up, sometimes till dawn. So too did thoughts of the dream, pondering upon its meaning and and how very personal it felt, yet completely alien to his lifetime.

So it was that the sleepless nights continued, marked by the growing bags under dead-fish eyes, making them look more tired and disinterested even than normal.

But, hark! Respite would find its way upon his wearied body on this very day, when from the field by their borrowed house drifted the sounds of soft snores. And there lay the silver-haired man, fast asleep, exhausted to the point that his mind had gone completely blank.

It's nice to hear songbirds as opposed to the droning of automobiles that he can't necessarily see. Granted, Emil has little trouble with feeling his way around if there are a large amount of people in the general vicinity, and the cane helps too, but there can be nothing done to help the fact that his heart races whenever a car goes by.

Some nights, Emil dreams about a man with white hair. He thinks it must be Gintoki, but when the man turns around, he sees that his right eye is obscured by an eye patch. It makes him wonder if the man is Takasugi, but he is both too old and has the wrong hair color to be him. Sometimes, there is a woman with white hair and two swords standing next to him, one in each hand.

He keeps seeing them, and he doesn't know why. Emil is not afraid of them, even with their gruff appearances. They gesture for him to follow, but he wakes up before he can.

And it's this precise dream that has been keeping him awake. The boy yawns widely and presses the heel of his hand into his left eye. He has to figure out how to get home, which, quite frankly, was going to be a massive headache for him. He doesn't notice the lump of a person asleep on the lawn until his toe hooks under them, sending Emil toppling face-first into the grass beside the person. It took him a moment to process what exactly had happened when he heard a distinct snoring and mumbling about Shonen Jump.

"... Mister Gintoki...?"

He didn't mind that there wasn't any response. That snoring was, unmistakably, Gin's. So Emil smiles softly, relieved that he's found something somewhat familiar.

All for the sake of some grudge they evidently held against him, although why they would want his bokuto was completely beyond him. The thought pisses him off, and he’s made up his mind that he’ll go with the boy and have a look for himself who exactly these despicable bastards are.

The familiarity of the boy’s situation, how he’s seen countless others feeling the same way, does nothing to appease his anger. He’s no preacher of justice, but there are injustices that cannot be allowed to pass. Even as he thinks this, Gintoki understands that keeping the boy safe from the consequences of failing are only the tip of the iceberg, and doesn’t actually solve any of his problems.

"Oi, oi. Do you think that with punks like that, you can just walk in empty handed and walk away in one piece? Here’s the deal. You bring me to these bastards who have a bone to pick with me and I’ll have a little…discussion with them, and you can put up at my place until you find a permanent residence." His stomach picks the timeliest place to growl right then, reminding him that he hasn’t had lunch because of that stupid call and then coming home to this.

Emil folds his hands as Gintoki continues. Taking this man to the others seemed like a better idea the more he thought about it. Perhaps he could get things all sorted out. Adults had their own ways of going about things anyways, ways that he never really understood. Generally speaking though, the boy trusted adults to make the best decisions for everyone.

His thoughts are interrupted by a sound that he's heard all too many times ever since running away from home. But that wasn't him, so it had to be --

"O-oh, was that your stomach?" he asks, glancing in the direction of where Gintoki's voice had been coming from. Emil was small for his age, leaving him typically having to look up at whoever he was speaking with. He reaches into his pocket, producing a small bag of leftover crackers. Of course, at that point, his stomach decides to growl loudly as well, but he holds the food out to Gintoki anyways. "Um, a little, yes," he responds sheepishly as he hears movement.

"Red is… warm," she begins. "It’s bright against the rest of the world." She’s unsure of how to continue, until a person enters her mind. Even without being here, he’s still helping her it seems. She looks up wistfully. "It could burn you, but if you’re wrapped up in it, then its heat can only protect." Mikoto, she thinks, is exactly like this. "…it’s beautiful," she finishes.

He listens intently to everything that Anna has to say. He thinks of fire, though imagines that it would be rather painful if one were entirely wrapped up in it. But then again, if the fire was around a person, then it wouldn't burn, only warm.

"It sounds like it," he says with a small nod as Anna finishes. "I'm sure it is."

Send me your thoughts on my character so far!

Remember! This is an AU and aspects of a character’s personality can change, so bear that in mind!

Possible points to talk about

► How well I have adapted my character to the AU

► Possible plot suggestions or even headcanons you think may fit my character

► How you feel I could become more involved, if I’m not already

The white headed boy watched as the other sort of panicked and frantically pointed at himself. Olaf nodded and stared intently again. But then realizing—oh right, he couldn’t see. Something was covering his eyes! A grin grew on his face before he brushed his nose and exclaimed with excitement, he was whooshing himself around Emil, not at a frantically fast pace but somewhat slower.

“Who else could it be? Of course it’s you!” He announced before stopping in front of the boy. Even though Olaf himself was rather cold, he always liked the idea of giving warmth via hugs or the thought of summer—despite the fact that he practically melts when summer comes around the corner.

He must be Emil, who likes to play hide-and-go seek with a blindfold!

Then he felt Emil anxiously walk over before wrapping his arms around him. Olaf grinned and rethought about him. He was also Emil who liked warm hugs! That always made him extra happy and giggly just thinking about it. If anything, the young magician was thrilled at his actions. However, the blindfold thing still intrigued him in a childish manner. Of course, due to his incredibly childish nature he was not going to hold his tongue about asking a question.

Slowly, realization dawns on his face.

"Oh, um, this?" he says, raising a hand to touch the strips of cloth that are wound around his head and over his eyes. "Um, they're there to protect my eyes." He's never figured out the reason why, but light has always sent a stinging, burning sensation through his eyes. Keeping them covered had mended the problem, even if, theoretically speaking, sunglasses would have probably done just fine. On the other hand, it's difficult to fall asleep with sunglasses on.

Crimson eyes the hand holding out the wooden sword, hand not reaching out to grab it quite yet. More important than getting it back was finding out who was behind it, and why. Hand resting on his palm, elbow pressing into his leg as he leaned his weight on it, he looked the kid straight in his eyes, or rather, where his eyes were behind the blindfold.

"They promised to help me," Emil responds. "They, um, they promised to give me somewhere to stay." He's slightly dumbfounded as to why the weight of the bokuto in his hand hasn't disappeared yet. He keeps going. "I... told them I didn't have anywhere to sleep tonight."

He's already regrouped his plans for the day. He'll hand this man's bokuto back to him and then be back on his way. He'll tell those men that he doesn't need a place to stay from them anymore; Emil doesn't want to stick around people who are probably going to do him more harm than benefit. Granted, he's certain that he never would have reached this conclusion if Gintoki hadn't pointed it out. Perhaps if he was older and had more foresight, he would have shaken his head at how desperate he was to find not only a place to stay, but also affirmation from someone out there.

"I’m kind of the same." Her condition isn’t as severe, but there’s some similarity. "I can only see the color red…" She won’t claim to understand what it’s like not to see at all, but she figures she can relate even a little bit. It’s more comfortable 

And then, he asks, "What's it like? The color red?" He's heard about it before, how it's the color of love and the first color in a band of the rainbow, but he wants to know how this girl who can only see red will describe it.

But that didn’t mean that he was just about to hand it off to some kid who’d somehow broken into his home and had been intending to steal it.

To begin with, why the hell anyone would want to steal a worthless wooden sword like this was incomprehensible. What would you even use it for, tinderwood?

Sure, Gintoki could just hand the damn thing off to the kid and get him out of his hair. But there was no reason to give in to some brat who had come into his apartment and tried to steal his stuff, sagging shoulders or no. Plus, it was obvious that whoever had sent the boy was targeting Gintoki, though why in such an absurd way was anybody’s guess. Perhaps they’d thought it was actually important to him. Still, it was worth doing some digging.

"I-I wasn't, no," Emil responds, voice growing quieter. "Oh, u-um, they wouldn't tell me." Which was the truth, really. He swallows nervously, only because he can feel, as well, just how pathetic his excuses were becoming. His fingers tighten around the practice sword for a moment before the boy holds it out.

"I... should go, sir," he said quickly. "My friends are waiting for me! I should go and ask if they'll help me even if I couldn't help them." He doesn't want to return empty-handed, and he knows that he'll be turned away by the people who have promised him a spot if he succeeded. Which was fine, really. He could resolve himself to find other people who were willing to accept him.

He yawns as each step up the stairs is accompanied by a dull thud of his boots on the smooth floor, muttering irritably about ‘clients’ who call you out to a place but don’t show. Its a cruel trick on a man trying to make an honest living, really, and assholes like that should be ashamed of themselves. Really, they should. Taking a man away from his Jump and wasting his time like that is really inconsideration of some highest degree.

There’s a second of confusion when he slides his key in and finds it doesn’t quite turn. A cautious attempt is made to open the door, and it swings open, an obvious sign that something’s not right. He’s not senile enough to start forgetting to lock up yet (even if his hair’s silvered like a weathered old coot’s).

Quietly, he steps through the door, avoiding alerting the intruder within as he creeps inward, one step silent step, and then another. The living room’s clear. He turns for the bedroom, and spots a figure. Viola. But it seems a little…small for an intruder. Its a thought that crosses his mind for the seconds as he’s reaching out, a firm hand finding its way to said intruder’s shoulder in a grip that’s ready to tighten the instant the intruder even tries to run.

"Oi, what the hell d’you think you’re doing?" There’s a growl to his tone, and you can almost hear the raised hackles of a beast in it.

It took some time to find the practice sword. He wasn't sure where he was supposed to find it, and the unfamiliar layout of this man's home meant that he had to tread cautiously to avoid tripping over something. He'd left his cane behind, reducing him to groping about the building.

But he found what he was looking for, eventually, running his fingertips up and down the practice sword. It was smooth and felt like polished wood. Yes, this had to be it. He'd bring it back to those men and they'd pat him on the head, and then he'd bring the practice sword right back and apologize to its owner.

What he did not account for was that the owner of the practice sword would return home and catch him in the act. There's a hand with a strong grip on his shoulder making Emil go stiff, fingers clutching the practice sword tightly.

"Um, I-I was wondering if I could borrow it for a bit?" he said, realizing that his excuse was incredibly feeble. They'd told him, under no circumstances, was he to tell the owner of the practice sword who had sent him. The man sounds angry, which really, Emil expected that. He would be upset too if someone had tried to take something of his without his permission.

She doesn’t mean to ignore his reassurance, but the topic slips her mind. Absentmindedly, she comments, "Oh… it’s fine," yet almost immediately after, she follows up by pointing to her own eyes, where his won face is covered by cloth.

"You mean this?" he asks, raising a hand to gently touch the wrappings over his eyes. "Oh, um, my eyes are very sensitive to the light. But it's okay; I can't see anything out of them anyways."