Forums » General Roleplay » Crusoe Hill (1x1) - (Closed)

"I didn't think you could fly," the boy said quietly as he studied the knife Pier had given him. "Will you be staying long?" he asked the man.

"Again, that's up to you. Is me staying what you wish?" He tried reaching through again.

"... you can stay for a while," the boy said he wouldn't say if he wanted the fae there, "Until it gets dark. When it gets dark you leave."

The Fae nodded. "Fair enough."

The bruise on the boy's face has started to fade a little. Victor tilts the knife so that the fire light glints white hot off the blade. "... so .... now what," he says squinting at the reflected light blinds him for a few moments.

"First you don't blind yourself. Second... Well I don't know. You never told me why you left your little red door." the Fae still kind of wanted an answer to this. Hopefully he could get all of his answers today.

"I'm not stupid," the boy grumbled as he blinked repeatedly to try and make the dots before his eyes go away faster. "Why do you need to know why I left? I can leave whenever I like," he said not caring if the fae ever got an answer or not. "This is a nice knife," he said examining the hilt as he turned it in his hands.

He ignored the comments before. "Yea it is a nice knife. I traded for it. And since I have given you things, why don't you trade back some answers? It's like our own trading system."

"What kind of answers?" Victor asked slowly his eyes darting around to check all the available exits. "How many answer is a knife worth? How do you know it'll buy you the answers you want?" he asked as he looked at the man's face for the first time since he'd sat down.

Pieridae was still in the same position leanin on his backpack. Except now he swapped leg positions. "Why don't we start out with trading the handle? What made you leave your home?" He held the boys gaze for a bit. His voice was as its most thawed ever.

Victor thinks the question over a bit. "Thirteen years ago my mother and father were shot by a robber. I was three years old. I was taken from my home with my parents to live with my father's older sister, her husband and my grandfather," the teen says slowly. He answered the question, it's not his fault the fae didn't make it clear which home the question was about.

Pieridae realized his mistake. "I see. Now for the rabbit, you remember the rabbit don't you? Way back when? Trading that for an answer to the question: Why did you leave your little hill with the red door and start living in places like this forest?" He changed positions and sat with his legs crossed as he leaned forward.

"The rabbit was already mine," the boy said, "I left because I wanted to." Victor puts the knife away and pluck his coin from against his shirt and sticks it in his mouth to suck on it with his eyes half closed. He sucks on the coin noisily not wanting to give a real answer to that question.

"Victor, what happened to trading? I thought you wanted to be a good trading partner!"

The fae's words reminded the boy of the therapists he'd had years ago when he was small. They'd all been women though and they'd let him pet their long hair while trying to make him talk which rarely worked. The boy doubted the fae would let him pet his wings even though he had talked to him which was more than he'd done for the therapists and he'd liked the his therapists. "Fings?" he asked around the coin and spit in his mouth.

"Fings?" This confused the Fae.

"Fings!" the boy repeated tucking his arms in close and flapping his hands at his shoulders like tiny wings. "Fings. Fet ice fings, peas?" he asked again with a notable whine to his voice like a tired toddler asking for a favorite toy.

The wings sprang back to life and flapped hard enough to lift Pieridae to his feet. "What about them?" He kept watching the boy this time, he didn't look away.

Victor's eyes locked on the fae's wings almost instantly. "Fet ferdy fings, peas?" the boy asked again. He slowly reached out to try and touch the man's wings again. "Peas, fet fings?" he repeated. He didn't understand why he shouldn't be allowed to pet Pier's wings when he was allowed to pet his therapists hair years ago when he was small.

"Use words youngling." He moved the wing away a little so they wouldn't be touched.