o piteous wanderer
Who: Hope Estheim | elementally; open!
(multiple threads totally welcome o/)
When: After his journal entry.
Where: Wandering around various places in Anatole.
Format: Kicking it off with prose, but feel free to go with whatever you want.
What: Hope is going exploring! It's time to take point.
Warnings: opening post tl;dr? :|
UHH nothing comes to mind, but if something comes up I will edit.
A little unnecessarily, maybe, Hope tugged at his gloves. Not that anyone could see his brand, really, but it was a habit. His nerves were working against him, and even if no one here knew what a l'Cie was, what it meant, he couldn't be sure that things couldn't go against him. Even if he knew that he was strong, the fact was, they were stronger together. They all were-- well, they were family. They were his family. It was easy to think or say that he could be strong without them, be strong for them, but right now it was hard to believe it.
Actually, right now it was hard to open the door. His hand rested on the handle, and he swallowed, nervous. “Okay. Sometime today?” After all, he was hungry. He needed to get out there and face the world sometime. Maybe. He could just... eat tomorrow, right? It probably wasn't that big a deal.
Loud rumbling from his stomach and a sharp, hungry pain made him reconsider.
“Okay. Okay, Hope. Take point.” Closing his eyes, he inhaled. Exhaled. Inhaled again. “Take point. You've done this before.” With a nod to himself and a determined expression, he pulled open the door. His Forge was in his pocket, and he moved cautiously, making his way out into the street. Suffice to say, it was different from the vast open planes of Pulse, and the familiar architecture of Palumpolum. He pressed back against a wall to avoid the crowds, watching quietly as people moved back and forth, catching muttering about the new. The Scorched.
Maybe being Scorched wasn't so different from being a l'Cie, he reasoned. You still could hear people whispering about you, whether or not they knew what you were, or that it was you they were talking about. That was... uh. That was kind of comforting and kind of depressing. He shook his head. Maybe he was thinking about this too much. There was a mission right? First priority, find the others, and failing that, get food and information
For what felt like the hundredth time, he checked his Forge. No sign from the others. Not yet anyway-- and probably not for a while, if what he'd found out was right. He was pretty sure none of the others would hide away, especially not if there was information out there that could help.
Last look back to memorise the building he'd stepped out of, and he was off.
(multiple threads totally welcome o/)
When: After his journal entry.
Where: Wandering around various places in Anatole.
Format: Kicking it off with prose, but feel free to go with whatever you want.
What: Hope is going exploring! It's time to take point.
Warnings: opening post tl;dr? :|
UHH nothing comes to mind, but if something comes up I will edit.
A little unnecessarily, maybe, Hope tugged at his gloves. Not that anyone could see his brand, really, but it was a habit. His nerves were working against him, and even if no one here knew what a l'Cie was, what it meant, he couldn't be sure that things couldn't go against him. Even if he knew that he was strong, the fact was, they were stronger together. They all were-- well, they were family. They were his family. It was easy to think or say that he could be strong without them, be strong for them, but right now it was hard to believe it.
Actually, right now it was hard to open the door. His hand rested on the handle, and he swallowed, nervous. “Okay. Sometime today?” After all, he was hungry. He needed to get out there and face the world sometime. Maybe. He could just... eat tomorrow, right? It probably wasn't that big a deal.
Loud rumbling from his stomach and a sharp, hungry pain made him reconsider.
“Okay. Okay, Hope. Take point.” Closing his eyes, he inhaled. Exhaled. Inhaled again. “Take point. You've done this before.” With a nod to himself and a determined expression, he pulled open the door. His Forge was in his pocket, and he moved cautiously, making his way out into the street. Suffice to say, it was different from the vast open planes of Pulse, and the familiar architecture of Palumpolum. He pressed back against a wall to avoid the crowds, watching quietly as people moved back and forth, catching muttering about the new. The Scorched.
Maybe being Scorched wasn't so different from being a l'Cie, he reasoned. You still could hear people whispering about you, whether or not they knew what you were, or that it was you they were talking about. That was... uh. That was kind of comforting and kind of depressing. He shook his head. Maybe he was thinking about this too much. There was a mission right? First priority, find the others, and failing that, get food and information
For what felt like the hundredth time, he checked his Forge. No sign from the others. Not yet anyway-- and probably not for a while, if what he'd found out was right. He was pretty sure none of the others would hide away, especially not if there was information out there that could help.
Last look back to memorise the building he'd stepped out of, and he was off.