Martin was initially startled by the sudden kick down of the door–
Before perking up when he realized who it was.
“D-Damien!” He excitedly went to go hug his friend!!! Before realizing the deer and just excitedly bouncing in front of him.
“Martiiiiiiiin~!” Damian chimed, before quickly slipping past to lay down the deer on the nearest flat surface that could hold it. He spun around to face Martin, patting him on the head.Â
“It’s real nice to see ya again. How have ya been? I’ve been, uh, decent. I started therapy, aha...”Â
That wasn’t normally something he would share, but... Martin was a friend of his. And he was absolutely harmless - so it wouldn’t hurt to say, right?
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Rusty have you picked back up your guitar recently?
Martin had burnt himself out from getting the papers down from the trees, so Rusty had taken over, disposing of the blank ones. Some had messages, but they weren't for him, so he left them be... However seeing his name on this one caused him to pause, looking it over.
"...My... Guitar?" He was confused, before shaking his head and adjusting his coat, stuffing the paper into his pocket. "If... You know it exists, you know it's in Martin's possession. He's better at playing than I am."
The dark had always unnerved him, casting shadows on the wall that no matter how hard he tried he couldn’t imagine away, each inn having it’s own horrors dance through the night. The flickering candles did little but cast their orange glow in all the wrong places, making the shadows darken.
It was a particularly warm night, an uncommon occurrence this late into the snowy season, but welcome to the small winged child… What wasn’t welcome was being left to his own devices in the inn room, expected to sleep as his brother worked to earn their stay. Typically, his brother’s friend would stay with him, calm his fears by telling fantastical stories, but he was strangely missing this night as well…
He didn’t dare move from his bed, lest there was something waiting for him just underneath, some monster waiting to harm him… … But the longer he was on his own the worse his fear got… So slowly stealing his nerves, he slid free from his covers, wincing at the sound his feet made as they hit the wooden floors. Well… Too late to back down now he supposes…
He was silent towards the door, a skill he never remembered picking up. He just knew it would be helpful in this situation… Opening the door, he found the hall to be much brighter, much to his relief… Now just to head down and find his brother… As the winged boy descended the stairs, the soft sounds of a guitar drifted to him, his elven ears twitching… It was soft and slow picking of the strings, the gentle melody building over the hushed whispers of the tavern patrons…
He’d just gotten to the bottom of the stairs when another instrument joined, a violin he thinks it’s called, the notes harmonizing perfectly with the guitar. He hid along the frame of the open arch, watching with large green eyes and his brother sat on the stage, a large guitar barely held in the thin winged teen’s grasp, yet still he played, eyes shut as he was lost in the music. His friend stood next to him, equally as entranced with the sound as he skillfully played the violin. A large amount of the crowd had fallen silent to listen…
He’s not sure how long he himself sat there, just as absorbed into the melody… It almost sounded familiar, but he couldn’t really place a finger on it… He was only snapped back to reality when the song ended, the small tavern crowd breaking into loud applause and cheers. His brother looked surprised, before a warm smile appeared on the dark haired teen’s face, him bowing along with his friend, before passing over to the bar to receive their pay… Ah-- They were coming this way… The boy decided to quickly head back upstairs… He wasn’t as scared anymore, especially if they were coming back anyways.
… …
Martin stared blankly at the guitar case leaned against the wall, whimsically thinking about the times Rusty and Ambrose used to play so he could sleep but… Rusty hadn’t touched the guitar since Ambrose passed… Not that Martin blamed him, the memory likely hurt far too much… Slowly, the winged man slid from his seat, retrieving the case and bringing it back to where he sat… He always wanted to learn to play… Maybe he could play that lullaby one day...
The cities in Creativa were always incredibly intimidating and confusing much to Oliver's dismay, but this time felt so much worse.
His little sister was by his side at one moment, and the next she vanished into the crowd, leaving the elf to scramble through, struggling to communicate what was wrong to confused strangers. Common was never his strongest language, he remembered struggling to learn when he was younger. Had he know he would need it, had he know it would have been this important he'd--!
He was drawn back to his thoughts when he collided with a woman, hastily trying to apologize as he scrambled back to his feet... Only to halt in his tracks when she put her hands on his shoulders, trying to stop him from running off immediately.
"Hey, Hey... What's the matter...?" She asked gently, Soleilan tongue rolling from her mouth easily. "Where's the rush, Little Butterfly...?" He's never been so relieved to hear his own language spoken back to him.
"My-- My sister--" He gasped out, realizing he was struggling to catch his breath in his panic. He took a moment, shivering at the cold wind blowing through the streets. "I... She was with me a moment ago, she got separated from me in the crowd... She's-- She's small, she's got dark hair and tan skin have you seen her?"
"I can't... Say I have, but if you'd like, I'd help you look...?" The woman offered, a worried frown creasing her features. He felt like sobbing as he nodded. Having help was definitely an improvement...
It wasn't long until the woman found his sister, returning the young girl to him... He was lucky she wasn't hurt... Whos to say if he'd be so lucky next time...
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"Fuck if I know, it's been like this since I was little..." He's had some theories. "My sister didn't have horns... I just did... One got broken and never grew back."
People shouldn't get close to you but... What about you to them? You can't stop yourself from forming attachments, Oliver.
"... Does it matter? So maybe I can't stop myself, but that doesn't mean my point doesn't stand. People shouldn't get close to me... Dangerous things happen when they do..."
