The dark crow is... || GxB {P} || ...Human?

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  • <woltlab-metacode data-name="align" data-attributes="WyJjZW50ZXIiXQ=="><p>if you wanted to spend more time before night then you can say so - I can revise my post!</p>
    <p>He wasn't sure if it had been a few hours or minutes, but Michael's nap had disoriented his sense of time as he woke up. He looked around groggily. He wasn't sure when, but he had been taken inside again, placed on the same counter as before. It was dark. His head shot up, and he looked out the window. There were a few lights on from the other houses, but that was about it. The sky was too dark - or cloudy - to tell the time of night.</p>
    <p>Clambering to his feet, he hopped out of the box, and over to the edge of the table. It was all or nothing. Forcing both wings open, he winced, then jumped off the table. Michael had been hoping for a short glide to the ground, and he got one, but it ended as a crash landing as he hit the floor ungracefully. Tottering dizzily as he stood up, he shook his head. Well, then.</p>
    <p>It was time to change back.</p>
    <p>Desperately hoping he could do it without making noise, he began his transformation. It hurt worse than expected, and he covered his mouth with a hand as he finished, letting out a faint, wheezy whine. His shoulder was bleeding again, and he could feel drops running down his arm. Staggering to his feet, he trembled for a moment before removing the sweatshirt from the box, slipping it on. It already had his blood on it - Michael doubted a little more would be a bother. His left arm barely cooperated as he fumbled to zip it up. He pulled the hood over his head, and began searching for pants. Going outside without pants or socks may just as well be suicide. Another downfall to being a human. They couldn't handle the cold.</p>
    <p>Michael scoured the house, putting his feet down lightly as he tried his best to be quiet. Which wasn't exactly easy. He could barely see. As he managed to find his way to the bathroom, he discovered her hamper of dirty clothes. Looking back at the door a little guiltily, he dug in the clothes, pulling out some pants as he pulled them on. They were a little big for the scrawny boy, but it was better than nothing. After putting on a pair of socks, he tip-toed his way to the front door. He was almost there when he tripped over a canvas and fell to the ground. Pain blossomed anew in his shoulder, but that wasn't his concern.</p>

  • [center][fancypost=width:550px][align=justify][color=white][size=8](oh I actually totally forgot about this thread! thanks for reminding me)

    Jillian woke up in the dark, rubbed her eyes and glanced at her alarm clock. The red numbers showed 1:25 am. What had woken her up? She was about to turn over and go back to sleep when she heard a soft scuffling noise outside her door. For a moment she froze, then relaxed as she remembered- it must be the crow. Of course he'd be awake, he's a crow! For a moment she wondered if she ought to go have a look, but she couldn't imagine this particular bird causing havoc or tearing up her kitchen while she slept.

    (That, and she didn't want to get up.)

    She lay awake for a few minutes, listening; it was hard to tell where he was with one ear against the pillow, but she could definitely hear him moving around. Then, suddenly, she jumped as she heard a heavy impact on the floor in the great room. Oh, crap! Jillian thought, kicking at the blankets as she sat up. He must have knocked over an easel or something. She stepped out of bed, adjusted her clothes- she was wearing her usual pyjamas, which consisted of a white undershirt and a pair of boxer shorts- and opened the door to the great room.

    And screamed. There was a person in her apartment- she couldn't see them very well in the dark, but it was definitely a person! She fumbled for the light switch and blinked as it clicked on. "Who are you?" she cried, backing up against the wall, squinting in the sudden light to try and get a look at the intruder. "And what are you doing in my apartment?"

  • <woltlab-metacode data-name="align" data-attributes="WyJjZW50ZXIiXQ=="><p>Michael had been holding his breath, counting the seconds in the silence as he hoped the girl wouldn't come out. He hadn't seen or heard her come out of the bedroom, and he let out a shriek of surprise when she spoke, which turned to flinching as the harsh light glared down. He shielded his eyes with his right arm, squinting. She was standing outside of her door, staring at him in horror. The boy scrambled to his feet, using the wall as support as his arm lowered to his side.</p>
    <p><strong>"I-I-" </strong>he swallowed. His voice had been a mere croak due to underuse. Michael promptly fell to his knees again, trembling. <strong>"I didn't mean... You weren't supposed to know..." </strong>Tears sprang into his eyes. <strong>"I'm sorry..."</strong></p>
    <p>Michael, naturally, was fairly clueless. He thought that she now knew he was a shapeshifter, not that she thought he was a burglar. He pushed himself to his feet again, taking care not to use his throbbing shoulder as he took the sweatshirt off, holding it out as he stared at the floor in shame. <strong>"Here's your sweater back..." </strong>he mumbled. A tremor entered his voice as he added, <strong>"Please don't hurt me."</strong><br><strong></strong><br><strong>***</strong></p>
    <p>i had a feeling that'd be the case lmao</p></woltlab-metacode>

  • [center][fancypost=width:550px][align=justify][color=white][size=8]Jillian stared at him in disbelief, her back pressed against the wall. When he held out her sweater she snatched it from him and held it against her chest, glaring at him suspiciously. "I'm not gonna hurt you, you weirdo!" she exclaimed, her voice slightly high-pitched with fear.

    He didn't look very intimidating- just a weird skinny boy several inches shorter than her- but that didn't stop her from being freaked out. He could have a knife or something- and he was in her apartment! And he was acting really weird- she'd heard stories about people being killed by druggies who had broken into their homes. So it made perfect sense for her to be scared.

    "And- and- why are you wearing my pants?" she demanded. What the hell? Was he here to steal her dirty laundry? First the sweater--

    --The sweater!

    She ran into the kitchen and found the box- empty. No magic crow. She spun around and turned on the boy in the living room. "Where is he?" she cried, close to panic. "What did you do with him?"

  • <woltlab-metacode data-name="align" data-attributes="WyJjZW50ZXIiXQ=="><p>Michael wasn't the least surprised as she continued to stare at him in horror. It always went down like that when people found out he wasn't normal. On some level it hurt, but he was used to it. The boy flinched when the sweater was snatched from his hand. By now he trusted her not to lie, and her assurance that she wouldn't hurt him gave him a cause to relax a little. Though, he wasn't sure whether to be hurt by the 'weirdo' comment or not.</p>
    <p>Her freaked out second-thought comment about the pants instinctively made him look down at them. <strong>"W-well, you see, I didn't exactly have any clothes, and um... I can't really go outside naked." </strong>He awkwardly looked away, shifting his feet. <strong>"I can't really lug clothes around up there. They're way too heavy, and..."</strong></p>
    <p>Michael trailed off as she ran into the kitchen in a panic. Was she searching for something? She was looking in the box. Now he was confused, which turned to a flash of fear as she turned on him. He stumbled back, bumping the wall. <strong>"W-what do you mean?" </strong>he stammered, bewildered. It was beginning to dawn on him that she hadn't realized his secret yet. Michael's eyes widened a little. Could he still get out of this without her knowing? He bit his lip and tapped his foot, thinking about excuses. They all came out lame.</p></woltlab-metacode>

  • [center][fancypost=width:550px][align=justify][color=white][size=8](it's totally okay to keep bumping! it reminds me that the thread is here, which is good, because i'm super forgetful! and thanks- I've got really high muse for her right now and i'm super pumped to see where this roleplay is going to go)

    "Up there...?" Jillian relaxed slightly, her fear changing to uncertainty. There's no way, she thought without much conviction. There's no way! A super-smart crow, that was one thing. You heard about weird animals doing smart things all the time. But a crow that could change into a human? That was fantasy stuff. That was... impossible!

    It was only now, that part of the panic had fallen away, that she noticed his shoulder.

    A crow with an injured wing... a boy with an injured shoulder... she was starting to feel a bit faint. She shook her head, stepping backwards and falling back heavily onto the couch. The room was spinning. She rubbed her face with her hands, squeezing her eyes shut, then glanced back up. He was still there.

    "You're him?" she asked in a small voice. "You're the crow?"

  • <woltlab-metacode data-name="align" data-attributes="WyJjZW50ZXIiXQ=="><p>Michael's jaws were still open, as if he had been prepared to speak, when the girl echoed his words. Suddenly his mouth went dry, and he closed it, looking away. He could practically see the thoughts going on in her head. The boy cast a nervous, sidelong glance at her. <em>She knows... </em>he thought, a feeling of impending doom washing over him. When her suspicious, thinking eyes inspected his shoulder, he flinched faintly before attempting to turn away, placing his left hand over the throbbing wound as if to hide it.</p>
    <p>Then the girl appeared to sway on her feet, and he felt a prick of panic as he instinctively took a step forward, as if it would stop her from falling. He didn't want her to <em>faint</em> on him. But then she sat on the couch and he relaxed. It didn't last long as her undeniable accusation broke the now-suffocating silence. Michael felt the urge to deny it anyway, but he knew it would be futile. As if in shame of his existence, he looked down at the floor. His step forward became a step back.</p>
    <p><strong>"I'm sorry," </strong>he mumbled, his soft voice cracking. Michael seemed to shrink in on himself, and he trembled. <strong>"Sorry," </strong>he repeated. For a moment, he considered fleeing the building and running away. But it had begun to snow again, and he was pretty sure the wind would pick up as well. He didn't even have anything to cover his top. For the time being, he was stuck where he was. He looked back at the girl. <strong>"Can... can I take the sweatshirt with me?" </strong>He shifted his shoeless feet. <strong>"It's cold outside and I'll need it..."</strong></p></woltlab-metacode>

  • [center][fancypost=width:550px][align=justify][color=white][size=8](I'm back! Yay!)

    "....Take the sweatshirt...?" Once again Jillian echoed his words, her mind still running a few clicks behind as she struggled to process the huge revelation she had just experienced. Instead of trying to fully comprehend all the ramifications of this new knowledge, she decided to stick with what she knew she could understand. "You can't leave yet," she declared with conviction, standing up from the couch and looking down at the crow-boy's shoulder intently. Then she turned and quickly trotted into the bathroom, opening up the cupboard under the sink and rummaging through it before coming up with a small first aid kit in a transparent plastic box.

    "C'mere," she said as she opened the box, glancing back towards the living room. She was doing her best not to think about anything beyond this moment. She didn't know how to deal with shapeshifters stealing her clothes, but she did know how to do a basic patch-up job on a (human) injury. So, she would do that.

  • <woltlab-metacode data-name="align" data-attributes="WyJjZW50ZXIiXQ=="><p><strong>"Wh-"</strong> He couldn't leave? He knew this would happen. Michael was about ready to chase after her and beg when she vanished into the next room. She didn't understand. The girl didn't mind staying inside for long periods of time. He couldn't <em>stand </em>the indoors. Especially when it had a lot of people. He had been ready to shout for her to come back when he heard noises coming from the room she vanished into. Cabinets? That was what they were called, right? What was she doing? Michael remained stationary, eyebrows knitted in confusion. When she came back out, the first thing he did was stare at the case in her hand. It had bright, thick red words on it, but he didn't know what they meant. But she was telling him to come closer, so...</p>
    <p>Despite every instinct, food was one hell of a drug when it came to trust. Michael shuffled forward, his right hand hovering uncertainly at his chest. Pausing nearby, the shifter stared at the floor. <strong>"What is that?" </strong>he asked. Even if he had lived with other people at a very young age, Michael didn't know much about detailed human life. He spent the majority of his own as a crow. He only changed back to a human from time to time to carry things and to prevent him from losing his mental humanity. The fact that he had never seen a first-aid kit before was lucky, perhaps, since he had never needed one before. At least he knew how to take care of himself in the wild- in human life? Not so much.</p></woltlab-metacode>

  • [center][fancypost=width:550px][align=justify][color=white][size=8]"It's a first aid kit," said Jillian as she turned on the tap and wet a washcloth under it. Then she turned to look at the boy standing in front of her in the door. He seemed so small and fragile. She'd felt fear when she'd realized there was someone in her apartment, then confusion as she'd realized who (or what) he really was, but now the protective feeling she'd had when she first found the crow resurfaced and her expression softened.

    "I just want to patch up your shoulder," she explained. "You can't go out with it open like that. I know it must be hurting. Will you let me help you?"

  • <woltlab-metacode data-name="align" data-attributes="WyJjZW50ZXIiXQ=="><p>Michael watched her curiously as she wet the rag. Was it to wash away the blood? The wound had stopped bleeding a little while ago; the small trails down his arm and the mass of it on the hole itself had congealed. It was stiff and uncomfortable. It was sore and every movement demanded he stopped. He had decided he would figure it out once he got out of the building, but didn't have any idea as to <em>how.</em> He glanced down at it as she confronted him, and examined the white box again. That would heal him? Was there something inside it? Of course, he didn't imagine that it would burn and sting during almost every step of the process. Since she was offering to help, it must be safe, right?</p>
    <p>With his eyes still locked on the box, Michael nodded. <strong>"Okay,"</strong> he stated simply. Yeah, it was hurting and he wanted it to <em>stop. </em><strong>"How? What's in it?"</strong> For the time being, the boy had forgotten about his urgency to get moving. It was still snowing, and he'd dearly regret it once the sun peeked over the horizon but, in the sense of logic, it would be worth it. He, of course, would argue otherwise.</p></woltlab-metacode>