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Post by REVENANT on May 24, 2015 13:58:33 GMT -6
❝ i was born and raised to live beyond the heft and weight of a world undone ❞
Charles really was not sure what he had expected the child's mother to be like. Was she more similar to the child, or to......ah, perhaps it was wrong to make that distinction. Best not, even if it was just a program. His answer came though, quickly, when instead of attending her very visibly shaken son, the woman was quite focused on him, greeting him almost warmly. Indeed there was a certain amount of humanity to her, but the rather distinct difference between her and her son was the lack of....of real emotion. With the boy, she could distinctly feel the fear and anger. But with his mother there was nothing. The words, perhaps, gave some sort of insight into emotion, but she herself felt stale, dry of real feeling. Even the way she carded her son's hair seemed more programmatical than...real. Faced with a real person, he might have said she was just very stoic, but her attention was solitarily on him - her son went ignored. And that....not even the most emotionally distant of mothers would be able to do that, certainly not with her son in such close proximity, in an anxious state like he was.
Charles blinked a few times as she spoke, noting the way her son gawked incredulously. He arguably couldn't blame him....though it was worrisome, if the boy was even aware of the asynchronous speech patterns then clearly something was very wrong. This was not just a child but a very much aware child, seeing the strangeness of the game for what it was. His mother, on the other hand, was clearly not of the same....unique variety; though the speech flowed, it was clearly not a direct response to his own words, slightly disjointed. Charles just gave a quiet nod, waiting to see if she had more to say. When instead she gave her son a gentle push forward, Charles struggled not to wince. No this was not a mother, a real mother at least. Shoving her clearly worried son towards the source of his anxiety....no, that just wasn't right. Charles took a step back instinctively, trying to give the boy space, though the effort was pointless as she continued to urge him forward.
He found a brow arching as she inquired as to whether he caused Charles any trouble at all, and...stated that he looked, acted, strange. Now Charles could tell the boy was mute....and that was one thing. But could he hear? Did his mother really just call her son strange-looking, in his presence, while he was upset? The officer forced a small smile to his lips and shook his head, bearing in mind that she was clearly unaware...this was possibly supposed to be some sort of quirk of theirs in the original programming, with her son being some kind of oddity. But as it was it felt wrong to Charles. "Your son was fine, he didn't bother me." he said reassuringly, avoiding the boy's gaze for now. He decidedly chose to avoid mentioning anything about the....looking and acting strange part, as he just didn't know enough about what she meant to make a comment. Talking out of his ass would do him no good.
It actually almost hurt, though, when the boy desperately tried to fight his mother's prodding, hiding back in her skirt and tugging hard to get her attention. He didn't know, then, what she was. Or, likely, what he was.....or rather wasn't. Charles wanted to say no, it's okay, you don't need to introduce your son -- but there was probably no point, this kind of thing was hard coded. Either you left the conversation alone completely or you went along with it. It just wasn't right to force him though, aware or not. If Nimat...no, it was just wrong. He knew his boy would feel deeply hurt if dad tried to force him to do something he clearly didn't want to, clearly was afraid of or upset by. But what could a computer do to realize that?
It wasn't much, he couldn't really do much, but as much as he wanted to look down and read the name, he kept his eyes between the boy's face and his mother. "It's lovely to meet you, both of you." ....Well he could guess the boy must be a Mainio, that was a bit hard to miss if the woman was married and had her son....so perhaps in the end even that small grace was futile. Charles bowed lightly, reaching out to take Ms. Mainio's hand, but relented at the last moment, instead clasping them in front of his chest. The boy was bothered enough already; touch his mother at all and that would probably get worse.
He considered the woman's offer of work, and his mind briefly went back to the fact that....yes this was still a game. And he was dirt poor. While he was not playing it for himself, Rosewood was, and he needed to keep that up. His smile brightened and he hummed lightly. "Actually, if I might speak with your husband about work.....where might I find him? Perhaps I could be of service to you." Oh the young Mainio was probably thrilled hearing that. Mentally he apologized....but he was now dealing with two priority incidents - earning enough in this game to, well, not die, and keeping an eye on a....rather unique case.
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Post by SISUHAASTAJA.OBJ on May 25, 2015 18:33:57 GMT -6
 Slowly he flipped the book closed, his fingers gripping tightly at the binding as he did so, lost in thought. Had he been wrong? Mamam made him introduce himself, though he could not discern the reason. Was it because he had presented a weak image as a Mainio? So weak, that a stranger could pick it up as worry? He… did not know. What he did know was that his heart was beating rapidly. He clutched the book tighter as his mother attempted to soothe his unease as she continued to comb through his splattered braided hair. If he had cared to notice, he might have seen slight red marks standing out where the corners bit into his skin. He felt his mother tap his shoulder and immediately he straightened his spine. Though it was not a reaction out of fear per say, it was merely because he felt a hand gently press against his back as if telling him to straighten his spine once more and freeze it. To look up, to pay attention. His mother’s hands touched, prodded parts of him, reminding him of subtleties that he has forgotten in lieu of seeking sanctuary with his mother. Yet, as he looked up, she looked serene, almost calm as she molded his posture, showing no fear. His fingers unlatched the book that he wrote in and as he gazed up at her, he wrote as discreetly as possible. The youth’s eyes flickered up and between the pages, ‘Mamam! This man…’ His fingers won’t working properly as his writing was significantly worse than before, afraid not only of the stranger in front of him, but of his own mother’s reaction. Would she chide him? Would she dismiss his fears entirely? He felt that they were well founded.
‘This man is dangerous. Mamam, this man might hurt you.’ He managed to eek out the last few words and he looked up at his mother, shoving the book well above his head as he angled towards her face hoping that she would read it.
That she would understand, that she would read it and know so that he might know that she knew that there might be danger. That she wasn’t unaware. Even though his spine was straight, he did not wish to look at the stranger, and instead focused on keeping his balance while tiptoeing for the extra height, so that she could not fail to see the writing all while trying to hide it from the creep. Lumina, please, Lumina, please let her read it and give her the understanding if she believes that it was all in his head. Please, let her understand, let her see it through his eyes. The prayer went unanswered for the only response he got was tired arms…. It wasn’t as if he was expecting the great goddess to answer his prayer… and it wasn’t often that he prayed to begin with, but… this wasn’t about him. As a cursed child, he wasn’t expecting anything from the divine for there had never been intervention, but for his mother. For his mother he would pray. He bit the inside of his lip, drawing a bit of blood as slowly his arms folded downward and he closed the book slowly. He looked up to see if it had even been acknowledge and the truth was that he could not tell. She remained calm… like a good strong Mainio woman should, but as he tugged on her skirt slightly… for the final time, she did not acknowledge his words. Instead he could see that she was engaged in conversation with the stranger, her eyes brightening a bit as he could tell that she was speaking more animatedly, gesturing with her hands as she pointed towards the produce. She made no move to untangle his hand from the fabric this time and he merely let go.
Until he made a move. Towards his mother. While he was scared, he was frightened… and many things that he would not dare to admit, he saw the motion beginning and stepped between his mother and the stranger, affixing him with as much of a malicious gaze as he could manage. His posture was pristine at the moment, but seething disgust and feared warred within him. It was by no means the wisest decision, but something inside him screamed not to let this stranger, this Charles to lay a hand on his Mamam. He may not have seen the words exchanged, but he did not want the other near her as he started to reach out for his Mamam’s hand. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw his mother’s hand beginning to close the distance as well… or at least beginning to before it placed itself on his shoulder. Almost as if she was going to reach and met the other. His eyes widened as he felt her gentle touch lift up his head to look into her tired, yet smiling face, mouthing, “You have to find Papa. You know we need new hands for the Spring season and this young man is interested in the position. Will you help your Mamam out dear?” Cold sweat rolled off his forehead in beads as he slowly shook his head, no. No, no, no, no! He would not! She patted his head, mouthing at him, “You’ll do this for your Mamam right? Fetch your Papa?” She smiled at this, her expression slightly confused as he vigorously began to shake his head, wishing that he had a voice to screaming with if only for this instance. Mamam…. She petted his head and leaned down to him, but he refused to look, closing his eyes as she tapped his check towards her. He wouldn’t do it.
He couldn’t. Why did none of his words reach her?
His fists clenched and… he couldn’t do it. Not everything he felt was wrong, he couldn’t be wholly incorrect, there was something with this stranger that terrified him and unnerved him. There was. Instead he tore himself away from her grip and ran, clutching the book close to his chest as he ran as fast he could. The sign he was proud of hindered him, and he felt no regrets throwing it to the cobblestone like a piece of refuse, even though he had worked hard on it. Blindly he ran towards the south, dodging, ducking and weaving as his eyes turned red. No, he wasn’t crying, the wind was irritating them… he’d be safe when he got there, he’d be alright. That was what he told himself as he gritted his teeth all while rubbing his right eye.
Unbeknownst to him, his mother tracked his movement as Jussi barked in the marketplace, excited by the sudden amount of movement. She turned towards Charles, her eyebrows furrowed with an almost sorrowful expression on her face, “We’re pleased to meet you as well, though good sir…” She paused for a moment before straightening her skirt, “Will you find my son? He’s heading somewhere else and I’m afraid he might hurt himself.” She gestures to the stand, “ I have to stay here and you seem to have a kindly soul.”
REVENANT★ IT DOESN'T MATTER NOW WHAT HAPPENS |
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Post by REVENANT on May 27, 2015 14:58:01 GMT -6
❝ i was born and raised to live beyond the heft and weight of a world undone ❞
When the boy shifted between Charles and his mother, he found himself almost smiling. Almost. He had known the other would take immediate offense of course, but it was somewhat…touching, to see him act on it. He could understand, being that if his own son…hell he would have stepped between a stranger and his son already. Just at the thought he felt his chest constrict. Sweet smiles and nice words meant little. He shook his head, keeping his hands close to himself, clasped in front of his chest instead. He shot the Mainio child an apologetic look.
It was starting to become clear though that the boy was not just mute. He had….a feeling, before, with how the boy didn’t seem to react to his mother’s words unless immediately directed to him, but now he was positive that he was in fact a deaf mute. But he could read lips it seemed…he read his mother’s. ……….And no doubt his, in French. He knew there was a linguistics thing built into this game that probably translated everything for the characters to understand…but visually he would still be speaking en Francais. Doubtless the very much aware boy was terrified of the fact that words were coming out that didn’t look anything at all like what he was actually mouthing. He found that fascinating in a way, but for the boy it was….somewhat worrying. The poor kid didn’t understand why he could comprehend Charles, no doubt. He did speak English, though, so perhaps for his sake…
He waited somewhat awkwardly for the boy to respond, but he could feel the tension bubbling over to an unbearable point. And soon enough….the boy ran, heading off to some indefinite area. And though he could not see the crying, he could only imagine the boy might be weeping now. It was kind of…heartbreaking, honestly. He hadn’t meant to push the boy so much.
He had seen the boy’s running coming a clear mile away. Actually, he was surprised he had lasted as long as he did, even taking Charles to market at all. He’d expected the boy to flee much earlier on. The waiting though was worse. Had he run earlier…he would be scared of course, but not in the way he was now. He was not only scared but…undoubtedly he felt that his mother was throwing him to the wolves. Or, the wolf, named Charles Rosewood, or Revenant. He watched the boy flee, and felt…unsure. As a mechanism within the game he probably knew where he was going…but that didn’t make it any safer for him. Charles knew from his…exceedingly limited understanding of video games that non-player characters could die. Sometimes to advance the player-character’s plot, sometimes as a consequence of some wrong action. Besides that though, what if there were more like him? Sentient, aware? The boy was emotionally unwell, which would only make things worse for him. His parents were clearly not autonomous, not aware, not suitable to raise him…but even they would be better than him running off into the middle of potentially dangerous territory.
Nini.
He didn’t mean to make this boy a conduit for his anxiety but he couldn’t help it, the Mainio child was in a vulnerable state right now and he couldn’t help but think of his own son as a result. He heard Mrs. Mainio’s words, noting the sorrowful look on her face. He closed his eyes, the lids feeling heavy over violet irises. He bowed his head, meeting her eyes. He almost thought to put a consoling hand on her shoulder – Rosewood would, and were she sentient like her son Eden might, as well. But he couldn’t. It would be wrong, after how the Mainio boy reacted to his last almost-handshake. ”Do not worry miss Mainio, I will find your son for you.” And hopefully soon he would find his as well.
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