#dunwallwolf

What makes you feel alive?

“…Alive?” Cáel echoes, tilting his head, blinking… then, lifting a hand, trying to suppress his laughter. “Well, that’s an icebreaker if I’ve ever heard one.” 

“’Course, ‘course, no offense, but if I were you, I’d be more worried about the bloke who didn’t feel alive. I mean, wouldn’t you?”

Sometimes— always, when he’s with the ones loves— he feels something that he thinks might be like being alive. There’s a certain peacefulness to knitting, a sense of purpose, that has always attracted him, and it’s easy to feel— something— when you’re living someone else’s story. Maybe that’s what’s always attracted him to fiction. There’s, too, the simple joy of his siblings’ smile. That’s always been enough.

He can never get rid of this hole, this swamp, that he’s dug himself in, too deep for him to crawl out, it seems, but sometimes… sometimes, at least, he can pretend it's not there.

There seemed to have been a bit of a commotion in a certain part of the city. Namely due to the fact that a car now found itself in a state that could only be declared as a total loss. The vehicle, that mere moments prior had been used as a getaway vehicle from an armed robbery, had it’s hood smashed in in such a way that would would assume that several anvils had been dropped onto it from great heights. In reality, however, the weapon used was a mere baseball bat. Despite how absurd the notion seemed, that was the truth of the matter. And the one wielding said bat was..

“Guess it doesn’t matter where I am. Punks are still gonna think they can get away with doing evil shit. As a hero, I ain’t about to overlook that! The streets’ll be safe as long as I’m around, y’hear me?!“

Welcome, Daud!

Your Servant will be Priscilla!

We hope that you and your Servant can get along!