#ephelli rp

Thank. The gods. For thick fur. The absolute MESS that was my temporal communicator, not teleporter or traveler, COMMUNICATOR, decided it would, for lack of a better fucking word... malfunction. All this damn thing was supposed to do was link my ass to Tumblr in a different era so I could meet interesting people from before my kind’s introduction.

Continued from here.

rocket-mouse:

“Oh, my clothes? I had these custom made.”

“I can tell you this much, you won’t find this online unless you print a copy.”

“Th-thanks by the way. What’s your name? Can you show me around? I haven’t been here before. A-assuming that doesn’t come off as too weird or anything.”

It’s pretty obvious how bashful they are, but they seem to be flattered.

Ooooh, that certainly figured. The mouse must’ve had some very good friends or knew a fantastic creator, that was honestly a pretty nice set of clothing. I had to admit, the mouse had my attention aesthetically. They were a blushy little thing, though, standing a good few inches shorter than I was, despite their ears making up that difference. Mouse Ephelli weren't too common, but not unheard of, so his question wasn't too farfetched. "Nah, it's alright. San Fran's kinda big for new arrivals, I'll admit."

Was that a squeaky toy or just a kitty?

FWOMPH.

One little bloody bump. I always carry a little BB-gun on hand to shoo any unwanted attention away, but this goddamn time, it had to be fired completely accidentally. Somehow, someway, something got caught inside of the gun’s firing mechanism that I hadn’t cleaned out, and when it fired, it managed to promptly put a tiny BB right into some passing human’s eye. It had to be a human, too, didn’t it?

He cornered me, pissed off beyond belief that I had probably just blinded his eye, but the idiot was completely ignoring the fact that it was an accident. “The gun isn’t even real!” I’d shouted in his face, and he had simply retorted with a grunt and a shove into an alleyway. I’ll give him this: I was in the wrong. But this didn’t excuse him pulling out a goddamn Bowie Knife. I’m shocked they still made them, but I guess you couldn’t fix what wasn’t broken.

This, however, had distracted me from the fact that he had just fucking stabbed me. Yes. For a goddamn accident, I had just gotten a knife in my kidney. Oh, that was gonna cost my insurance a mint to fix... oh. Wait. Shit, that wasn’t my kidney, that might’ve hit an artery. Uh oh. Oh no. Oh shit. I didn’t have my med pack on me. I think I spouted something along the lines of “You maniac” mixed with “Help!”, but it must’ve come out as a garbled mess, because the next thing I knew, my head had gone very light. That was a lot of fear welling up in my mind and body, and everything seemed to get cold. I needed out of here. Anywhere but here had to be safer. Anywhere but here.

And that’s when it managed to happen. I wasn’t there anymore. I was somewhere completely different, appearing with a thump on the ground and a groan as I held the knife still embedded in my side. Fuck.