#kleinstar

Jack waves a hand dismissively. "Nah. I just realized I probably bought more than I can eat before it goes bad."

"Is this one of your new designs, Eiden? I like it." Eiden's taste in clothes was always great. If it weren't for his friend, Klaus would have probably been stuck wearing boring clothes!

Still, he had nothing but time on his hands, and a whole new forest to explore. It was filled with creatures both familiar and strange, and in time, he would have a fresh deck of cards.

He's in the middle of capturing a beautiful specimen, an elk, which he spies from a respectable distance. Just as he hits the button on his camera, the elk looks up at a newcomer, then gallops away.

The only thing Leshy manages to capture is a blurry photograph of its back legs. "Elk legs" will not make for a respectable card. He will have to find another one.

But first, Leshy turns to face the man who he deems as a trespasser. Only the whites of his eyes are visible in the dark of the woods, and they turn into orange swirls as his words reverberate in the stranger's skull.

𖦹 You ruined my shot. 𖦹

"Eiden? Oh, gods-"

Octavo hadn't arrived soon enough to put a stop to anything. Eiden's face is streaked with blood and there's more soaking through his shirt around his ribs. Splinters of wood litter the ground; one of the Stars' toy weapons, no doubt, given to a very ornery newcomer.

At least, not really. This isn't his first foray into the realm of the living-- but this is nothing like the sleepy town he'd seared into his memory, and it is the first time in the entire expanse of this life's memory that he has felt so completely and entirely dwarfed by the sheer enormity of it, such stark contrast to endless, silent night pierced only by the screams of his own kind. Here, it seems as though there's nothing but noise.

The welcoming committee had, therefore, been given a crisp 'fuck off' at trying to take him to wherever his new 'home' was supposed to be. It's a given, then, that anyone else foolish enough to approach him would be met with much the same.

Cornered, angry beasts don't make for the most polite greetings, after all. Never mind whether or not Grimmjow had ever been one to give them in the first place.

"Fuck off," he snarls, as yet another human opens their damn mouth. Why the hell do so many of these fucking people what to talk to him?

"Don't fuckin' touch me."

—a strange, small blond blur rushes over to slap the utensil out of his fingers. Looking closer, one finds a tiny plushie with eerily familiar details.

Meanwhile, a second plushie scrabbles up onto the desk and starts dragging away the man's sketchbook, while a third successfully scales the chair and starts climbing up Eiden's back to tug at his hair.

It's...an invasion!