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((Reminds me of a brownie, , exept a wooden thingamagiggie)

A small, wooden box was lying on the ground, a pair of emeralds inset in the top.

Nobody leaned against a tree, looking up into the household, seeing the poor boy crying and holding himself. He knew exactly what had happened and it made his blood bloil as he accidentally scratched the tree with too much force, leaving deep claw marks, his body tense and wanting to spill blood. His eyelights red for a second before turning white once more. He made his way torwards the house, making sure the saddened boy couldn't see him. He then reached up and stuck the tiny pink sticky note onto the window, turning and walking back into the trees.

"Hello? Please, can someone hear me?" She wonders around searching for someone, anyone to talk to.

He continued struggling for survival

The box squeaked forwards, moving towards the nearest person.

He looked at it. "What is this...?" he lifted a finger towards it

The box waited for his finger to come closer before lashing out, little nubs of teeth gnawing on his finger.

"Can anybody hear me?" she was a little nervous and curious.

He pulled away. "What kind of magic is this" he raised the sword, hoepfully Lillith didn't interfere

"Not at this point, I want to see what happens."

It continued moving towards his, the emeralds on top opening to reveal a pair of green eyes. "Rawr!"

Nobody sees the female walking around. He wonders what she is doing, but once she walks near enough he places a hand to stop her, as the boy has just seen the little note and seemed to have taken it eagerly.

She looks at the creature, "Huh?" she is confused on why she was stopped.

He dropped his sword. "Rawr?"

The boy was tired, feeling like his body wasn't his own, feeling phantom hands all over him, feeling disgusted with himself, when he'd noticed a small sticky note on his window, and he almost jumped torwards it, seeing the colour. He had partly figured out what the colours meant. Yellow were good things about him. Blue were advice and Pink were little bits of love, like he so colourfully described them himself. Of course, he only called them that because it was the first pink note he'd gotten from the being. All of them seemed like things that someone from old age would say. It was so cute. He read it: 'The sweetest of things is always a smile' (Damn, took me a while to come up with something I feel like I did badly on it tho) and it had him smiling to himself, hugging the note to himself before taking a little box, which contained all the sticky notes he'd gotten so far. That made 23.

Nobody lifts a finger to his lips, pointing to the house and the teenager looking out the window.

She looks up and smiles, she then whispers, "Aww"

"He's fragile, so I don't want him to see me just yet" He spoke, his voice a low smooth baritone, with an accent like from the victorian era.

The boy, whom had been looking out the window, to Nobody's surprise, opened it and stuck something onto it. A normal yellow sticky note. The boy felt like his legs were made of jelly, as he closed the window and leant back onto it, heart beating fast. He felt like he owed whomever it was a thank you at least, so he thought that he might as well leave a sticky note back