"Broken wings will not stop me from moving on,"

   “Whoa wait, is that really the first thing you should be asking me? I could be asking that right back at you!”

   As if it’s suddenly self-conscious, Fukase presses a hand against its left cheek, rubbing the rough skin.

   “Is it really that weird? I’m running out of cool stories to make up about it.” It glances at the boy’s bandages. “Maybe I should start covering it up too.” Trying to see how much it can hide, it combs its fingers through the bangs over its left eye.

  Dylan touches his own cheek and traces the bandage back behind his ear.

  “Bandages are such a pain though.  They’re constantly getting dirty and slipping off my face.  I cover mine only because it bothers me.  Can’t see with it well, is all.”  

  With a shrug Dylan tucks his bandage tighter and then swats at the others hand.  “Stop that.  It looks neat so leave it.”

The boy destined for pain frowns in confusion, blinking. What they were?

 “…Well, I can hardly imagine you’re named ‘Boy’ or ‘Person’ or some such thing.”

 “His name is clearly waste of time!”

 “That won’t do, princess! Please restrain yourself…”

 “Hmph!”

 He really considers this, completely unable to come up with anything even remotely name-sounding.

  “I have all day.”

 The child frowned, brow furrowing.

 “Oh.”

 He considered his mirror for a moment, squinting at them as though it would help with guessing at their name.

 “Are names not decided by date of birth in your dimension?”

 A harrumph from his side caught the boy’s attention. A young royal was pouting, glaring at the bandaged one.

 “I know. You’re name is ‘Rude beyond belief’, right?”

 “P-princess! Please!”

  “Ya got it.  No, wait, you didn’t.”  The boy laughs.

  “A name could be based off someone’s birth, but often they're what a person is good at or describes them.”

  Dylan tosses a grin to Rin.  Confidant with himself, he drops a hint like dropping a pebble into a pool to watch the ripples.

I haven't written anything in the longest time, and I’m feeling really rusty, but I wrote something, just now.  It’s about one in the morning where I am, but apparently that’s a fine time to be writing, so whatever.

Dylan’s muse has gone wandering, and the world I had started building has fallen to pieces, so I’m going to try to get my act together and sort them out and write more often.  Anyways, here’s the bit I wrote.

 A boy with unfortunate future paused, considering the options. From the way they said his name, they probably weren’t an “Oliver”. If foreign dimensions were anything like his, though, it wouldn’t be too hard to figure out.

 “I cannot guess off of nothing; I’m sorry. May I ask when your birthday is?”

 He picked up the badger which had decided to stick around. It nuzzled him in affection. Really, the child had no idea what kind of animal it was, or what it did. Not that knowing anything would change his opinion of it.

 “I don’t see why he can’t just tell me…” He mumbled to the creature, frowning as his fragile limbs began to ache under its weight. Setting the beast down, he waited for some sort of answer.

  “I don’t know my birthday.”  Although, he supposes that he must have one.  But he wouldn't tell them even if he did know it, and then again; he wouldn't tell them his name either, even if they did manage to guess it correctly.   

  Dylan picks one of the furry lingering creatures from his foot and shoos it away.

  “Anyways,”  He ponders,  “How would knowing my birthday help you figure out my name?”  Names held a power in them over a person; a kind of connection that opens up with the knowledge.  If Oliver knows how to find one through means other than honesty or trickery, then maybe they could unknowingly teach him a thing or two.

  It’s hard to hold a ‘who can go ahhh the longest’ contest when you’re laughing.

  A timid smile with gaze upon his own feet, then glancing to the side. “Y-Yes, I suppose I wear odd clothing, ehe…”

  Yes, he may be self concsious about what he wears around town, but what the other seemed to be doing was quite intriguing to himself. And upon further observation and inspection, he found himself confused and a bit nervous to wear green over his back.

  “Uhm– I-I’m concerned it may stain my clothing, actually.” A hand waves dismissively. “I think what I am wearing now will be fine enough. H-However, thank you for the offer.”

  If anything goes wrong, he can always…

                                                                              Ah, he can’t. Or at least try not to.

  It’s a bit strange to use a stranger as a defense for protection, is it not?

  “If you say so.”

  That was their choice, but he may as well show off what he had in mind for them.  Dylan weaves the stick through the moss and gives it a shake.  The moss shimmers and it grows, and another flick sends it billowing out into a velveteen cloak of the deepest green which then breaks apart like a brittle leaf  and scatters to the wind.  

  And that, was that.

  If Allen was called out for his odd clothing, then they could always play as traveling actors; which wouldn’t be a hard thing to pull off.  At least, not for Dylan.  And Allen could play along.