#murkoffjanitor

It’s a quiet night, when Waylon walks through the quiet halls of the asylum, trying to ignore the evil lurking within the bricks of the old building.

Kid was on deck, in fact he was stood beside the wheel talking with the captain, one of the crew called for him to come down onto the main deck. He looked over the edge and grinned when he saw their guest outside of his room for the first time. Usually he would just jump over and down to the deck, but he didn’t want to startle Alex, he wasn’t sure how steady he would be on his legs so wanted to avoid making him fall. Instead he quickly went down the stairs and walked over to Alex, “hey, what made you finally come up on deck?” He had been trying to talk Alex into coming out of the room for a week with no success. 

Walter gave a note to a crow for Alex, it landed on Alex’s open window ledge for a moment, spotting Alex by the mirror and flew over, landing on the vanity. It dropped the letter and waited to be thanked before leaving. The note read, ‘Alex this is an emergency. I found a baby in the snow, she’s an albino so I think she was abandoned to die. I need you to bring things for her, I think she’s around one year old so she should be able to eat some real food.’ Albino’s were viewed as bad omens and were often killed before they had a chance to really live, somehow this one had survived almost a year before being abandoned. Attached to the letter was a list of items that Alex would be able to get.

Angel had been coming to the same spot near the flower shop every morning at 9 on the dot for three weeks now. It was a small patch of grass that usually had flowers on but due to the time of year there was no flowers, but he would sit and stare at it for an hour before leaving. Today during his usual staring he sighed and got up before his usual time was up and walked into the flower shop, he looked very upset and he looked at the flowers in the shop. “Why are these ones here but there’s none outside...” He said to himself near Alex.

There’s hardly a pause, hardly room for the words to fully leave his throat before the Other speaks. Is it right to call it speaking when it doesn’t make a sound, when it’s words are more a hijacking of his own thoughts? He doesn’t know whether to be frightened or excited -- it’s been over a week since the symbiote had found the energy to speak, after nearly burning away while its former host was tortured. 

(answering for Echo)

5. What is your OC’s first memory?

His parents fighting. Or, more specifically, his mum getting drunk, flying off the handle, and taking it out on his dad.

15. If your OC could have any pet, what would they choose? Why?

DOG! A big solid fluffy dog that he could love and rely on, preferably a service dog that could help him with his PTSD.

21. What personal problems/issues do they have? Pet peeves?