#thegroundedmessenger

"Lost?" He inquired as he sat down at the table. "Do you want to sit with me and talk about it?"

“Did you dear? You didn’t have to, but that’s very nice of you” He replied with a small smile before reaching out and ruffling Alfred’s hair. “What did you make?”

[He's been told stories about angels, but he never really thought he'd see one. He'll just look at the other curiously before making a startled noise and hiding behind his bear, stepping backwards and almost tripping over his own feet.]

"Ohmygod I'm so sorry I thought the trash was right-" ksdjfnskdjf hurriedly picks up the toy and hides it away.

Ah... Bonjour. Welcome to the Dominion of Canada, can I help you somehow?

Matthew found himself in the middle of the battle field, Normandy, his arm torn to bits by bullets and shrapnel he screamed out for help but most of the other men fighting just turned and called him a freak, or showed him a look of pity before continuing on, and the people who did try and help were shot down. The bodies around him began to pile up and a few more bullets hit his arm daring him to try and call for help again. He did, and he saw his brother try and come over. "AL NO!" he screamed waking up and looked at his arm to see the same wounds. He closed his eyes, "It's not there..." Pain surged through his body and he took out a knife, stabbing his fake arm and looking at it, slowly calming down and letting a few tears roll down his cheeks.