Irial ♥ 1
Who: Irial gentle_cruelty and _________
Where: Irial is sitting on top of cottage #15
Style: Whateverworks for you
Status: Open like faery wings!
♥
(OOC: WARNING : Before you interact with Irial, you might want to read/comment on his Permissions Post.)
[Before he woke, Irial ran one hand over his close-cropped hair, just stimulating his scalp, enjoying the feeling of his fingers running over his head. It was his morning ritual - tease scalp, stretch, then open his eyes and get out of bed. Attention to his accomplished, Irial reached his arms up over his head for a full-body stretch - but instead of feeling the soft caress of clean sheets beneath his back, there was the unfamiliar, abrasive scrape of roofing beneath him.
[Roofing?
[Eyes snapping open, Irial moved quickly to his feet, his wings unfolding with a whoosh, inadvertently knocking off a roofing tile as he regained his footing. It rolled, flipped, and clattered to the ground below. Irial grimaced, leaning over the edge of the roof, his eyes following the path the tile had taken.
[Waking up on top of a roof was strange. But waking up on a roof in a place he didn't even remotely recognize, that was interesting. Last night, he had been watching the infatuated boy stand watch outside Leslie's lodging. Irial remembered leading the boy away, talking to him for a while, and ultimately going back up to the loft across the street from Leslie, watching her smile against the mouthpiece of her phone until she fell asleep. It was an innocent sort of voyeurism, pleased just to know she was pleased and safe.
[But the point is, he should have woken in the same place. If not the bed, then the chair posed in front of the tall windows. Not on a rooftop. Definitely not that.
[Squinting against the sunshine, Irial’s nostrils flared in displeasure, then he took a cautious breath in, trying to taste the air for any clue as to where he was. The flavors of the area were very...pasteural. Very country village. Someone was cooking nearby. He could smell laundered clothes, the sap from the trees, the smell of the leaves caught up on the wind, and the overwhelming reek of freshly blooming flowers. But there was no obvious movement beneath his feet, inside the cottage he was technically standing on. That was disappointing. There was no one around to greet the new squatter, no one inside to meet and greet, and oblige him with answers]
Where: Irial is sitting on top of cottage #15
Style: Whateverworks for you
Status: Open like faery wings!
♥
(OOC: WARNING : Before you interact with Irial, you might want to read/comment on his Permissions Post.)
[Before he woke, Irial ran one hand over his close-cropped hair, just stimulating his scalp, enjoying the feeling of his fingers running over his head. It was his morning ritual - tease scalp, stretch, then open his eyes and get out of bed. Attention to his accomplished, Irial reached his arms up over his head for a full-body stretch - but instead of feeling the soft caress of clean sheets beneath his back, there was the unfamiliar, abrasive scrape of roofing beneath him.
[Roofing?
[Eyes snapping open, Irial moved quickly to his feet, his wings unfolding with a whoosh, inadvertently knocking off a roofing tile as he regained his footing. It rolled, flipped, and clattered to the ground below. Irial grimaced, leaning over the edge of the roof, his eyes following the path the tile had taken.
[Waking up on top of a roof was strange. But waking up on a roof in a place he didn't even remotely recognize, that was interesting. Last night, he had been watching the infatuated boy stand watch outside Leslie's lodging. Irial remembered leading the boy away, talking to him for a while, and ultimately going back up to the loft across the street from Leslie, watching her smile against the mouthpiece of her phone until she fell asleep. It was an innocent sort of voyeurism, pleased just to know she was pleased and safe.
[But the point is, he should have woken in the same place. If not the bed, then the chair posed in front of the tall windows. Not on a rooftop. Definitely not that.
[Squinting against the sunshine, Irial’s nostrils flared in displeasure, then he took a cautious breath in, trying to taste the air for any clue as to where he was. The flavors of the area were very...pasteural. Very country village. Someone was cooking nearby. He could smell laundered clothes, the sap from the trees, the smell of the leaves caught up on the wind, and the overwhelming reek of freshly blooming flowers. But there was no obvious movement beneath his feet, inside the cottage he was technically standing on. That was disappointing. There was no one around to greet the new squatter, no one inside to meet and greet, and oblige him with answers]