#keptpeace

John had been adopted and had remained adopted. Of his brother Paul, Joseph knew not where his path had led him. Had he also been adopted? Perhaps he was happy. He certainly hoped so. Of all the brothers, Paul’s temperament was the most sweet. A lamb in soul and in the flesh. 

Yet that sparked worry in the middle brother’s heart. For lambs could be easily taken advantage of and swallowed up by the wolves of the world. And if Joseph had learned anything, it was that this world was full of wolves. His research and blind wanderings eventually led him to a small city near their former home. Rumor had been that a Paul Seed had made the area his home after aging out of the orphanage. 

It was likely another false lead, but Joseph had faith. His travels had required much of him, and since he only took small jobs to be able to feed himself while searching, his body was quite thin. He wore a simple sweater from a thrift store he had bought a few months back. It paired with the worn and stained pair of jeans. His hair had grown longer during his travels and search. It was now kept as tamed it could be in a small bun. Stubble grew on his cheeks, too. His razor had become too dull to perform its task anymore. 

It was in this disheveled guise that he sought the last known person who had seen this Paul Seed. The man he met called himself a friend and told him he’d call him. Joseph was allowed into the man’s apartment and stood idly by while the friend called Paul . . . and informed him that someone claiming to be his brother was here to see him. 

“He’ll be here soon,” the friend told him with a smile and tucked his phone into his pocket. “So, you’re Paul’s brother, huh?”

Joseph, slightly nervous in social interaction, worried the hem of his sweater with his calloused fingers. “Yes. I hope so. I haven’t seen my brothers since we were boys.” He almost tells him of the Voice. But experience stills his tongue. He doesn’t want to get kicked out before he can meet Paul. “But I wanted to find them. I haven’t had any luck yet.”

The friend nods. “Well, I’ve known Paul for awhile. Pretty sure he came from an orphanage, so. I hope it’s him. Guy could use a break.”

Joseph politely smiles but worries in heart. Was every Seed brother’s story plagued with woe? The friend is gracious, at least, and offers him some finger food while he waits. Periods of starvation has taught Joseph not to deny handouts when offered. Homelessness is a good cure for pride. He lounges on a sofa, looking out of place even here amid normalcy, dining on fries and mozzarella sticks . . . when, at last, there is a knock at the door. 

salty dixon meme!

// ☀: i got a couple.  i think one of the worst ones is when people force their views of what your character should be doing onto you.  god moding to the max-like.  if you don’t think someone else’s character is doing what you envision?  that’s cool.  there’s a lot of growth a character takes in rp.  they change with dynamics and verses.  even if their core is the same or slightly altered by life experiences?  it’s douchey to suppose you know everything about someone’s interpretation based off canon.  and if you hate it after discovering it?  there’s, usually, plenty others who will fit your vision better.  peacefully move on.

☁ : sometimes i think i have WELCOME stamped into my forehead by a doormat press.  yeah, i have.  i know i have.  i’m trying to cut some of that shit down for my own health. it’s a work in progress.

do i really need to try to restrain you two days in a row??