06-28-2022, 02:00 PM
[align=center][div style="background=transparent; bordercolor=transparent; width: 430px; text-align: justify; font-size: 7.5pt; line-height: 125%; font-family: arial; letter-spacing: 2px;"]ooc // please wait for finny to respond with corinne first!
a life of running was all that the kid knew. she had to make her way around this world thieving and lying… well, lie as best as he could without really knowing how to communicate. all they knew how to communicate was through their art and the stories they wished to share. but now was not the time to go searching for people to share his stories with, it was time to look for his next meal for the next month. he wasn’t a picky eater, he would take anything that was handed to him. strangers loved to give him rations of their food when it came down to him having to plead with them, his young face making it a lot easier to trick them into thinking he was younger than he was.
this was not going to be the case, though, not this time. thatch had been caught red handed, hunched over a duffel bag filled with canned drinks and bags of chips and other snacks. staring at him was a girl, probably shorter than him, with wide eyes and lips parted in a silent gasp. thatch glared at her and hissed, grabbing his bag and clinging it over his shoulder. “bad person,” he barked, pointing a finger at her. “thatch’s food. not yours.”
a life of running was all that the kid knew. she had to make her way around this world thieving and lying… well, lie as best as he could without really knowing how to communicate. all they knew how to communicate was through their art and the stories they wished to share. but now was not the time to go searching for people to share his stories with, it was time to look for his next meal for the next month. he wasn’t a picky eater, he would take anything that was handed to him. strangers loved to give him rations of their food when it came down to him having to plead with them, his young face making it a lot easier to trick them into thinking he was younger than he was.
this was not going to be the case, though, not this time. thatch had been caught red handed, hunched over a duffel bag filled with canned drinks and bags of chips and other snacks. staring at him was a girl, probably shorter than him, with wide eyes and lips parted in a silent gasp. thatch glared at her and hissed, grabbing his bag and clinging it over his shoulder. “bad person,” he barked, pointing a finger at her. “thatch’s food. not yours.”