08-10-2011, 06:12 PM
((He's a bit schizophrenic. Just FYI. And I hope you don't mind, but I'm playing him a year older than he is.))
He had been watching the strange woman for a while. After a few moments, he left the brush he was standing in, his golden eyes curious. Liam set his hands on his hips. He was tall, and not so much bulky as he was well built. "I'm Liam. Who are you talking to?" His eyes darted to the collection of things she'd been pouring river water on, then returned to survey her again. "You talk funny. Do you like fire?"
The butterflies were talking to him again, their black silk wings rustling dryly against the autumn leaves in his mind. The cold couldn't get here soon enough. He cocked his head, half listening to the butterflies, half watching her. "I think they like you. But you still talk funny."
He paused, his eyes staring blankly for a moment. The black butterflies were singing. He wondered if he were to join their song, if he would burst into a pile of ashes. Sometimes he could see them staring at him from the ashes of the body he'd burned. An evil one, the black wolf that had hurt him. Or at least one of them. Black wolves were sent from hell. The butterflies told him so.
He had been watching the strange woman for a while. After a few moments, he left the brush he was standing in, his golden eyes curious. Liam set his hands on his hips. He was tall, and not so much bulky as he was well built. "I'm Liam. Who are you talking to?" His eyes darted to the collection of things she'd been pouring river water on, then returned to survey her again. "You talk funny. Do you like fire?"
The butterflies were talking to him again, their black silk wings rustling dryly against the autumn leaves in his mind. The cold couldn't get here soon enough. He cocked his head, half listening to the butterflies, half watching her. "I think they like you. But you still talk funny."
He paused, his eyes staring blankly for a moment. The black butterflies were singing. He wondered if he were to join their song, if he would burst into a pile of ashes. Sometimes he could see them staring at him from the ashes of the body he'd burned. An evil one, the black wolf that had hurt him. Or at least one of them. Black wolves were sent from hell. The butterflies told him so.