The Novelist and The Wild Boy

Discussion in 'ROLEPLAY GRAVEYARD' started by ForeverRed, Apr 17, 2016.

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  1. Cold....That's all Braylin remembered feeling....So....Cold....Why was that cold feeling always there? Ugh...Pain...That pain...It too was always there...Why? Darkness.....Was it always so dark? He wished he could fully remember....He couldn't....He couldn't remember....Anything.

    Braylin was face first in mud, wearing torn and raggedy clothes. His feet, legs, arms and hands were covered ib bruises and cuts. His face had a pretty bad gash on it too...His arm was swollen, it was turning a purplish yellow color. His skin was turning pale, as the rain pound down like a thousand needles. It was going to storm...Braylin could smell it....But he couldn't get up...When he tried moving pain would shoot through his ankle and arm....What was wrong with them? The boy whimpered from the pain. He had fell out of a tree, a very tall one, trying to get berries from it of it. The branch had cracked from his weight, and he fell. Now he was on the ground. His dogs surrounded him, their noses nudging him as they whimpered, trying to get him to move. Braylin looked at them, shivering uncontrollably from the cold. He needed help, or he was going to die. He knew he was going to die....Who would help him?
     
  2. For Michael, on the other hand, it was a normal day- albeit, a reluctant one. He had ran out of food stored up, and it was only natural for a normal human being to head to the store, right? While it wasn't exactly what he wanted to be doing on a Wednesday morning, it was something he needed to do. That's how he saw living, these days. Just something necessary to get done only to have a new list to do in the morning.

    Bundled up with a mug of tea in hand, he started his usually relaxing walk out of his woodland home towards his old, small town. Would it have been better to get a car? Hell yeah, of course! But he was trying to live more naturally, in addition to focusing on his writing. So, that meant that walking was his main source of travel. Hey, at least it was exercise, right? If his parents ever even got a hint of what he was doing, that would probably be the only good thing out of it all, in their eyes.

    Of course, his usual train of thoughts about the plans for that evening were cut short rather abruptly once spotting the pack of wolves surrounding a dirty mass. Unafraid of the wolves- and really, any animal the woods had to offer- he wandered up casually with a raised brow. Curiously, he lightly tapped what he hope wasn't a living being with his foot, whilst casually sipping at his tea.
     
  3. The boy's eyes slowly opened, and he tried to lift his head to see what touched him. Yet it wasn't a what...it was a whom. Only seeing a black figure since his eyes were blurry, he growled. This begin his only line of defense.

    The wolves back away from the man, and say from the boy. The nine year old whimpered a bit with the dogs left him. He tried to get up once again. Yet he failed. Wincing as the pain shot through him,he decided to just lay there.
     
  4. "Oh god, you're a kid..." Murmured Michael, whilst nervously peering around for any sign of an adult. When met with nothing, tge writer awkwardly decided to pick up the child with at least the intentions to clean his wounds. The one plus to living out, alone, is that it definitely makes you want to prepare for the very worst.

    Easily carrying the boy into his cabin, he carefully set him down to really assess the wound. "Hey, kid, can you hear me?"
     
  5. The boy was running a high fever, and he was in pain, so at the moment? He couldn't focus on hearing anything. Groaning from his sprained ankle, and swollen arm, he leaned against anything that would help comfort him, which was the man. Some ibuprofen would help with the pain and fever. But he had wounds that needed to be cleaned first.
     
  6. Letting out a dramatic sigh, he nervously wandered to find some medical supplies whilst easily holding the boy in his other hand. The time he spent chopping forewood had definitely expanded his muscles... plus, this boy barely weighed a thing. Starting off with the broken ankle, he cringed when he reluctantly snapped it back into placd before hurrying to wrap it nice and snug. Once working on the arm, he hurried to set an ice pack on it to attempt to lower the swelling. Feeling his forehead after, he immediately panicked. He was no doctor, that's for sure, but he knew that fevers could be beyond deadly.

    Hurrying to grab a wash cloth, he ran the colddst water he could before carefully laying the boy down by his fire and rested the cool cloth on his forehead. It wasn't until he had nanaged to situate the other on the couch with a blanket that he hurried to search for some ibuprofen. He rarely used it himself, after all

    "Kid? Please tell me you can hear me. I need to know who you are?"
     
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  7. The boy yelped in pain when his ankle was snapped into place, tears running down his muddy cheeks, causing streaks. Once it was wrapped, he calmed down a bit, but the pain mixed with the fever had the boy still in a daze. He blocked out everything, barely hearing him. Though he did hear, 'who are you'.

    The boy closed his eyes, whimpering and groaning. "....Braylin." The nine year old answered.
     
  8. "Braylin? Alright, Braylin. I'm going to call you Bray, okay? Look, you look really dehydrated. I'll make some tea, and you can sleep up alright? I... I guess I'll wait for you to feel a bit better, I don't want some sick kid just causing havoc in my house- it's messy enough." He murmured, though the words were more to himself than the boy. Offering the other another blanket, he propped his head up with the down pillow before wandering towards the stove. "... Jesus, when did I become a nurse? Maybe I should write about that..." He muttered to himself, something he did quite more often since deciding to live on his own.
     
  9. Bray tooknin the new smells, and warmth. Warmth, something he wasn't used to feeling. Cuddling into the blankets, he sneezed, opening his green eyes to take in his surrounding. The room was still spinning to him, but he could make out a few things. He was next to fire. That startled him, but he couldn't move, due to his ankle, and he was wrapped pretty tight in the blankets. "....F...Fire.." He squeaked, trying to warn the man. He wasn't aware that it was in a fireplace.
     
  10. "That's a fireplace. Have you never seen one before?" He laughed, while clutching two mugs of simple green tea, knowing that the taste was pretty dull and probably would help with the other without making him sick. "Ugh. You're going to need a bath, kid. Like, really bad. You're caked in mud, and you're covered in cuts- what were you doing?"
     
  11. What was he doing?....What was the words for it again? As Bray though . He tried to lace some words into a sentence so he could understand it. "....Food....Gettin' food." He mumbled
     
  12. "... Ah. Okay, sure. Yeah. Look, drink this up. It should at least hydrate you a little, to help with your wounds." He offered quietly, before taking a seat besides the other on the couch. "So you were getting food. Why? And why in the woods? This is private property, you know. You're lucky you weren't some homeless person, or a rowdy teenager. I would've gotten your butt arrested, you know that right?"
     
  13. He didn't understand the last half of that. His good hand reached for the tea, his eyes looking at the mug, as if it were strange. He never really seen one of these before. He began drinking from it, much like a dog would drink from a bowl. He looked up at him, before saying, "....Gettin' food....to eat..." Stated the boy as if it were obvious. ".....Me...Me live woods..."
     
  14. Raising a brow, he took a rather large gulp of his own tea as he moved to sit criss crossed. "So... How long have you been living in the woods, Braylin? O-Oh, I forgot. My name's Michael." He offered, the whole situation having been far too weird for him to even realize he hadn't said who he was. "Why were you living in the woods?"
     
  15. Blinking, he had never really thought of that. Why was he living in the woods? Why did he feel to need to hide when he saw other humans? It was just instinct. Shrugging his shoulders, the boy sat the tea down, to tired to continue.
     
  16. "... I know you might not be thirsty, buddy, but you need to drink it." He murmured, taking his time to really wrap the whole idea around his head that this boy had been aimlessly wandering the woods for who knows how long, without a parent? "Come on, if you drink up you can take a shower and get some sleep? But I definitely don't want you walking about caked in dirt and mud. It's gross, kid."
     
  17. Looking at him, he picked the strange object up again, and began drinking it, just as a dog would. Once finishing most of it, he sat it down again.
     
  18. "... You don't drink it that way, Bray. Look, to take the handle and raise it to your mouth, okay?" He replied, moving slowly to show just how to drink the tea. "See? Like that. I mean, it doesn't really matter what you do, but it's just a tad creepy to watch you drink like that.... Anywho, uh... So you're all done? God, I don't know how to handle kids..." He babbled quietly, before moving to feel the other's forehead carefully. "Do you know how to wash yourself?"
     
  19. Since he really didn't understand what he had said to him, the boy just shrugged, and got more under the covers. His fever really didn't go down, and he was in pain. He wanted to sleep, but he did need a bath.
     
  20. He sighed, rubbing his temple, before moving to carefully pick up the boy. "Fine, jeez. I guess I need to help glue. You're like an animal, buddy."
     
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