bury me as a dog
#1
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Rory, Forest Oasis. Smile


Why am... I even here?


Somewhere beyond his range of vision, a toad croaked its indifference to him. It did not care that he dwelt nearby. He was no threat. No, none at all, not when laying face-up in the cool, shallow water. It drifted in and out of his clothes, lifting the salt-and-pepper pelt from his skin and bringing it to sway in time with the movement of the pool. It was not that Micah did not care that he was soaked to the skin with toad-dwelling pond water that he lay there, limbs extended, body motionless. It was not that he was hot from the weather to the point that he needed to be cooled down. It was not that he was bored, or lost, or troubled.


No, actually, Micah had tripped some time ago and toppled in, and his obsessive-compulsive fear of the lake's countless germs and infestation had literally paralyzed the poor idiot to the point that he could not actually move.


He squinted his eyes closed. God, I'm so stupid. The water in his ears was bringing a slow headache into his brain. Surely he would be sick from all this exposure. Surely he might even grow warts like a toad itself, or develop some sort of nasty rash, or in the least never find a way to wash out the reek of pond water in his fur. The ghostly Storm Lily gave him no peace over the matter, and though chocolate eyes watched her white-washed visage float back and forth over her features with red in her phantom eyes, the male oddly found himself thankful for his ears immersed and unable to hear her insults and scoldings.


What does it matter, anyway? he thought to himself, eyes rolling away. I'm going to get sick, and maybe I won't pull through. I won't get a chance to kill him if I'm dead.


He sneezed, then froze up once more, feeling the line of the water along the sides of his face. Oh God, I'm going to die here, aren't I? His stomach twisted and turned, disgusted and upset as if he were actually mortally wounded — which, of course, he was not. He was not even bleeding. He did not even have the tiniest cut on his smallest finger.


Ah, but such were the mundane trials and tribulations of a germaphobic coward and his ghostly sister.

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#2
Rory was starting to be able to leave his niece alone for longer time periods. So he headed towards the forest to walk and enjoy his alone time. Soarise was currently napping and would for a while. She was a good sleeper so he wasn’t too worried about her waking up suddenly. And even if she did, she had toys to entertain her.

He heard a toad croak and normally wouldn’t care but that croak was followed by a sneeze. He headed in the direction of the sneeze and saw a male lying down in the water. He had a look of panic on his face yet seemed uninjured. He approached the male, looking him over to see if he hurt. He looked like he wasn’t but that didn’t mean anything.

Rory stood next to the man and held out his hand to help him up. ”Do ya need any ‘elp there, laddie? It can be hard on a man ta be found in a pool o’ water.” His eyes were filled with concern for the lad and yet he was unaware that there was a ghost around as well. He didn’t believe in ghosts but would have helped the male even if he had a ghost companion.
#3
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Feel free to PP him helping Micah out or whatever. 8D


How long did he lay there? Minutes, hours, days? It certainly felt like days. Yes, no doubt, he had been there days. Weeks, even. He wondered if Skye had wondered where he'd went, or if she even remembered who he was. Had she given his rank away yet? Oh God, he'd never be allowed back in. What would they say when the prodigal useless Lykoi showed up after months of disappearance and claimed to never have been lost?! I'll just tell them I got sick, he said, wishing he could nod to himself, but his trembling muscles seemed to lock just enough to deny the motion. I don't have to tell them I was stuck in a pond for weeks. They don't have to know that. Maybe she will let me stay if I tell her I was sick. Oh, but if she doesn't... where would I go? Oh, God...


A shadow cast over him, and it was only at that moment Micah realized he had in fact not been there for weeks, but still only for a matter of minutes before another had stumbled upon him. That was a relief, he supposed, but gritting his teeth the male felt no less humiliated by the situation.


"Please help me," he said, flatly at first, but anxious tremors of his muscles soon brought the usual quakes into his tone. "I-I-If you have th-the time, I-I mean. I-I'm stuck. There are t-too many germs. I-I-I think I am very ill, I-I-I could die i-if I stay here. There are s-so many germs."


Unmoving, but with pathetically wide brown eyes, the Immaginazione plead up at him. "Pl-pl-please help me, I can't get up." It's okay if you can't, though, he wanted to continue, yet the words would not come to his lips. It's okay if you don't have time for me. It doesn't really matter, anyway. I can just stay here. I'll be okay, if you don't have the time. It's okay.

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#4
OOC: Sorry about the lateness. I've been busy with AniWaya drama with Ayasha.

IC: Rory looked down at the poor lad and felt pity on him. It was obvious that he really thought that he would die. ”A course, I’ll ya, laddie. Wot kind o’ Irishman ‘twould I be if’n I didnae ‘elp ya?” As he said that he pulled the poor boy up. And made sure that he was able to stand. It would not do to have him fall down the minute he let go of him.

Rory looked him over to see if he was all right. He did see any injuries. ”Are ye alright, lad? Yer no’ hurt are ye?” He would hate to have the lad be seriously hurt. He didn’t know the dark wolf but still cared for him. ”Do ye need anything else at all?” He asked helpfully. He would gladly help this stranger because that was the type of dog Rory was. He had no ulterior motive to wanting to help people.

He realized that he never introduced himself. ”Where be me manners? My name is Rory Ward, a Gioatore here and a damn fine Irish tenor, if I don’t say so meself. Now who might ye be?” His brown eyes were friendly and his tail wagged slightly as he considered the wolf in front of him.
#5
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Totally understandable!


A funny accent this one had, one which Micah found impossible to discern and understand with the added pressure of the water over his ears. Presumably the male agreed, and at once reached and pulled the Immaginazione from the shallow waters and to his feet. Micah relaxed instantaneously, and though the germs lay thick in his soaked fur and skin still, the male found himself too exhausted from anxiety to stand with stiff muscles. All the while he had lay in the water, each and every muscle in his body had locked out of sheer nervousness and paranoia, relaxing only when pulled from the shallows. As a result, he had used much energy, and wobbled on weary legs once standing.


Offering a weak but appreciative smile, Micah breathed relief in finding the man introduced as Rory showing no signs of obvious skepticism or humor in the salt-and-pepper boy's demeanor or cowardice. His sympathy and concern were, in fact, genuine — something not necessarily uncommon for who saw Micah at his worst, but unlike they, this Rory did not pity him like all the rest. Micah didn't need their pity. All he needed were friends and someone to support him, despite his obvious handicaps — and maybe, just maybe, Rory could be someone willing to bother with a hopeless idiot like he.


"Mi-Micah," he said, his smile widening with optimism. His hands and knees shook with nervousness as they always did, but for a time he forgot about the water in his fur and the germs that would surely make him ill. "Micah Lyk-k-koi, I-Immaginazione. Th-thank you for not... you know... making f-fun of me."


A pause. He played with his fingers, looking down. "I-I'm okay now, i-if you had other things to do... D-Don't let me hold you up..." But I do hope you'll stay...


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#6
OOC: I wonder how Micah would react to a pup.

IC: As the boy stood up, Rory held on to him to help him steady himself. ”Take it easy, lad. Ye don’t want ta hurt yerself an’ neither do I.” When it was obvious that the other man could stand, Rory backed up slightly. He could tell that the salt-and-pepper boy was expecting him to do something bad to him.

He introduced himself as Micah Lykoi. ”Well, Micah, ‘tis a pleasure ta meet ye.” He however was shocked at the next words that Micah said. ”Now, why would I be doin’ that, laddie? I see no reason ta make fun of ye.” He narrowed his eyes. ”’As someone been hurtin’ ye? I’ll go an’ deal with them if ye want.” He offered the nervous boy. He seemed nice, if a bit skittish.

At being held up, he shook his head. ”Yer no’ holdin’ me up. I was jus’ takin’ a walk since me niece was nappin’. Do ye like pups, Micah?” He though that Saorise might do the lad some good. Plus, he wanted to get to know Micah more. There was more to him than his nervousness and whatever else might be bothering him. ”Sometime, I ye want, ye can come visit us an’ play with ‘er. She’s a wee bit lonely with only her uncle ta play with ‘er.”
#7
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Word Count → 000

Oh... probably not very good...


The boy found himself startled by the kindness of the stranger. He didn't think Micah a fool or a freak?— or if he did, he was certainly good at hiding it. For now, the Lykoi boy could not help but trust him immediately, smiling easier in his midst by the help of such kind and selfless words, though the charming accent aided in calming the boy of his nervous tremors. "N-No one's been hurting me, I pro-promise," he smiled feebly, playing with his fingers nervously but smiling nonetheless. "I-I just get a little inside my head and fr-freeze up... I-I don't like germs, a-and I'm not very good with people, either..."


If nothing else, Micah was undeniably an honest individual.


"Ahh, umm," he stammered, raising his hands nervously, "I-I-I'm not very good with k-kids... They're too loud, a-and they move around a lot and get si-si-sick a lot." A dripping chill rolled down his spine, his stomach twisting at the thought of a child puking all over him. Oh God, the germs!!


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#8
At Micah’s reassurance that no one was bothering him, Rory relaxed slightly. ”Well, if’n anybody does, ye can tell me an’ I’ll set them straight, aye? ‘Twould be a real shame fer a nice lad such yerself ta be ruined by the harsh words o’ someone careless o’ mean.” It seemed like Micah had some trust issues. Well, Rory would help him however he could.

He watched as Micah spoke of his problems. ”I’m no’ a doctor, bu’ I’d be willin’ ta ‘elp ye, if ye want?” He tried to think of how he could help the dark colored boy. He couldn’t think of anything. ”Though ye’d hafta ‘elp me ‘elp yerself. I donae know ye very well an’ so donae know what ye would need, lad.”

At not being good with kids, he nodded. ”I didnae think I was good with kids before me niece. Her mum, me sister, died when she ‘twas but a few days old. So I’ve been raisin’ ‘er for a wee bit over a month now. So ye jus’ need ta git used ta them. But I’ll nae force ye. But ye should meet ‘er sometime.” He would try and help the poor lad live as normal a life as possible.
#9
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"Thank you," was all he could muster in response to a personal guardian of sorts, though Micah highly doubted it would ever work out. What were the odds Rory would come to his aid should he need it? The boy was utterly useless. Perhaps the Irishman would realize that in time, and decide to just let him succumb to whatever pathetic fate was in store for him without help...


Playing with his fingers in a nervous display, the Lykoi held his gaze low. "I, um... I don't really know if you c-can, I mean... I don't know what's wr-wrong with me at all..." Somewhere in their vicinity, Storm Lily laughed up a cruel storm. His ears flattened at the condescending sound, and he sank slowly into his shoulders. "I-I just get nervous, all the time, about things I know I shouldn't worry about... and sometimes I see things, and I-I-I just can't stop thinking about them, l-like I have to touch them, or something... I don't know..."


He only nodded at talk of meeting children, once again, though the idea still terrified him. How he loathed the little, screaming devils and their diseases. Rolling around in the mud, eating insects, hooting and hollering... how could anyone in their right mind want to bring a whole litter of that into the world? "I don't 'understand' k-kids," he mumbled beneath his breath.

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#10
Rory gave a friendly nod at Micah’s thanks. ”’Tis no problem at all, laddie.” He could see that the boy was rather uncomfortable with something, though he was under the impression that Micah was always uncomfortable about everything. ”What do ye want ta do now that yer nae all wet?” He decided to get to know Micah a bit more. That way he could learn how to help the poor boy.

He raised an eyebrow at Micah flattening his ears. What’s up with poor boy? He shook his head as Micah explained what was wrong with him. ”Still, if’n ye need me ‘elp, jus’ let me know, yeah?” He was eager to help the poor lad anyway that he could. Though he wasn’t sure what he could do to help. But they would figure something out.

At Micah’s comment of not understanding kids, Rory broke out laughing. He wasn’t laughing at Micah. ”Lad, do ye think that the caretakers of the lil buggers?” He took a couple of deep breaths to calm his laughing. ”I do nae think I’ll ever understand me niece. Especially when she becomes a teenager.” Though that was a rather frightening thought. But he didn’t want to think of that.
#11
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"I, umm, I-I don't know," he mumbled, gaze cast away as always. Though grateful for the help and figuratively extended hand of friendship, Micah's social skills were no less impacted and poor. "I-I don't really have any friends, so I don't..." he trailed off. So I don't really know what to do with anyone else. Those he was supposed to call friends he could not; Micah could not stop considering himself no more than a burden and inconvenience to those he met, and any and all that turned to him a sympathetic eye and voice were not his 'friends,' for they only pitied him. Even his sisters probably thought awkward of him. He did not know companionship. He probably never would. He only nodded feebly at Rory's offer to aid him at any time, even though Micah knew he would never take him up on the offer. He didn't dare, if not for anything but guilt's sake.


And suddenly — or it felt suddenly for Micah and his dawdling emotions, anyway — Rory burst into hearty laughter and who-knows-what. Surely the coyote had not said anything funny on purpose. What was there to laugh at? The Immaginazione stared blankly a long while before retreating into the curls on his face and into his shoulders, ashamed to be laughed at even if it was entirely harmless. "I-I-I don't want kids," he mumbled, playing with his fingers. "I-I-I don't think m-my sisters have any, ei-either."


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#12
Rory gave a nod. ”Well, all ye need is some practice. An’ ye ‘ave me. I’ll be yer friend.” He felt bad for the poor lad. It seemed like no one really tried to get to know him. Well, that was going to change. He was going to be his friend even if Micah did think that he was worth being friends with people. ”People can nae be alone all their lives, Micah.” He wanted to make sure his point was made.

He sobered as he caught sigh of Micah’s uncertainty. ”I’m nae laughin’ at ye, lad. It’s jus’ that even I don’t understand kids. An’ I’m sure people who ‘ave been at a lot longer than I feel the same way.” He placed his hand on Micah’s shoulder. ”Ye did nothin’ wrong, lad. I ‘twas jus’ joshin’ ye.” He felt a bit bad at embarrassing Micah.

He tried to think of something they could talk about. ”Do ye like animals? Do ye ‘ave a pet o’ some sort? I ‘ave a ‘orse named Treasa. She’s a white Irish Draught Horse. She’s a gorgeous horse.” He would offer the boy a ride but Micah might not like it. Treasa would be fine. She was a gentle horse and didn’t mind if other people rode on her.


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