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Post by Deleted on May 6, 2018 23:37:28 GMT -5
introduction if you're active around these parts, you've probably seen me around before, so i'll keep this short and to the point. i'm looking for a semi-active--meaning a reply or two a week, at the least, would be wonderful--roleplay partner that at least can match my reply length, simply for the sake of keeping my interest going. usually i average around 500-800 words, but that number can change depending on the context (for something a little more definitive so you know what you're potentially getting yourself into, i highly recommend that you take a look at my roleplay replies in my recent posts).
- - the plot a god--if they even deserve that title anymore, given the magnitude of their disgrace--is sent plummeting from wherever they hail to earth, stripped of most of their memory and power. an unsuspecting mortal, just a normal human being, discovers them, unaware of what they're getting themselves into. a curious journey of rediscovery ensues, and nothing is the same after they meet. note: this is left bare-bones for a reason--i like to plot and wordbuild, so this is left open for our creativity to flow
characters the disgraced god -- viridian.
information the unsuspecting mortal -- sweetclover1
information
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Post by Deleted on May 8, 2018 0:00:51 GMT -5
yeah ofc! once i’m not on mobile again, i’ll edit this page and get working on a starter. in the meantime though, does this super vague post inspire you in any way/get some thoughts going about subplots or headcanons? i’d love to hear any thoughts that you’ve got.
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Post by Deleted on May 9, 2018 0:42:35 GMT -5
all good. we’ve got plenty of time to discuss stuff as this goes on. lmao, apologies for my inactivity today—it’s finals season, and. even if my exams aren’t until next week, it’s still a bit of a busy time.
mm, mm, i like that idea a lot, actually! it’s unique, and i like the idea of a word contract bringing the two together, since people in older/more traditional times put so much value on the spoken word. like the phrase “i give you my word” carries a lot of weight to the gods, but these new people lie and cheat and steal all the time.
i planned on drawing from norse mythology! the plan is to sort of model after thor (because let’s face it, he’s so goddamn awesome) but try and keep it not-too-cliche. hmm. we’ll see how i end uo doing that aha
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Post by Deleted on May 14, 2018 23:07:46 GMT -5
just finished my last semester of inorganic chemistry at uni today!!! the chem suffering will most definitely continue, oh, don't doubt that. i'm dead but craving rp rn, so. gonna work on this til me muse runs dry hope you're having so much fun in london! one of my friends from back home just left for england too ahah
i've got a pretty dramatic entrance planned for my guy. i'll throw in a choppy, bullet pointed description either tonight or sometime soon, but i think i'll just get going w the starter as of rn
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Post by Deleted on May 15, 2018 0:08:16 GMT -5
A balmy breeze combs through golden stalks of grass on a field that seems to stretch forever, left almost completely boundless, without the occasional tree or group of grazing farm animals to break the visage of flatness. Mountains, streaked with late fall strands of blazing orange and red foliage, cradle the sides of the flat valley like the hands of Mother Earth herself may do so--in a way so gentle that they only serve to compliment the open space instead of caging it in. The only thing more powerful than the looming mountains is the two-lane highway that cuts through it like a knife through butter: definite, piercing, and stark, a flash of unnatural grey in the midst of an earthy, warm palette of yellows and browns and oranges, flanked by a cloudless blue sky above. A telephone pole runs along side the freeway, but other than that, no other indication exists that would suggest human involvement in this space; it truly seems like a place in-between places. A perfect middle-of-nowhere.
That would be the place where a man--a new one, notably--would be condemned for his crimes of materialism and promiscuity and pride. Like them or not, it's undeniable that the gods possess a sick sense of humor, and deal out punishments with that same "humor." Some may call their sense of justice and reparations cruel, though, but that's none of their business.
What does a man have to say against a god about their method? But what weight does that same antiquated god carry to a nonbeliever?
This punishment began with a brilliant bang and flash--much like how the universe was snapped into existence, though on a minute, infinitesimally small scale compared to the event itself. Nevertheless, a fearsome bolt of lightning cracks through that seemingly impressive and immovable landscape like a whip, in one thick, only slightly fragmented, streak of blinding, blue-tinged bolt. In the instance that it appeared so suddenly, leaving a roaring echo from the sheer amount of energy it gave off, it disappeared--the sky still cloudless, bright as ever. A total freak accident, one might call it.
A run-of-the-mill commuter bus just so happened to be ambling along that two-lane freeway at that time, as it did every day of the week at that time. People on that bus were simply on it to get home from working in the slightly larger town just outside the valley, just on the other side of it. The rural Midwest has a way of polarizing regions into pockets of land fertility, and whatever means to get from one place to another were simple and as direct as could be. It was just the way things came to be; sometimes daily travel between small towns whose economies are entirely land-dependent. Fragile. Stagnant. Stale as the wind that cycles between them, stirring up nothing but judgemental whispers between the town biddies.
So, needless to say, spending their whole lives in the infamous Tornado Alley, lightning and thunder and insane weather and storms come as no surprise to these few hardened locals on the bus that day, but that strike was so massive and so sudden that it jolted the dozing passengers to full attention. Something about it too was so commanding that the bus itself rolled to a slow stop--not the driver's doing--and everyone's cell phones shut off unexpectedly. The buzz of the telephone wire faded to silence.
As one would expect, the ground right where the strike struck the earth was charred, all life within five or six feet or so completely charred to a black, lifeless crisp. But what lay in the middle of that scar was, unlike the damage itself, completely baffling to any common man or scientist alike: a man, looking only considerably put through hell, lay supine, eyes closed, clothed in a plain matching sweater and sweatpants that smoldered and hissed like the smoking grasses around them. The man laid still for several moments, but when his hand twitched to life some time after the lighting, small snaps and crackles of concentrated static were audible as small sparks danced off his fingers and faded into nothingness against the black earth.
This individual was impressive, to say the absolute least: even with a soot-blackened, grime-streaked face and body, any person with a good set of eyes could see that he was an absolute Adonis--a perfection of man in every imaginable way. Broad shoulders and a hard-muscled body threatened the seams of the clothes he wore--he seemed to fill the sweater especially until it swelled and strained, with great packs of muscle clearly visible beneath it. He was tall, obviously so, with powerful, long limbs to speak for it. It was a body capable of enormous leverage--a rare type of body. His skin was fair and unblemished, which, curiously, and almost eerily, enough, given the circumstances, showed no sign of bleeding or burns, and not even a single bruise to speak of.
He suddenly gasped for air with the desperation of a man saved from drowning's first breath of air. He pushed long locks of tangled, dirtied, golden hair out of his face, and cracked open both eyes--perfectly heterochromic, with one a warm hazel, and the other clear, glistening blue. As he tried to focus on his surroundings, though, squinting at the light above him, the luster in the blue faded somewhat, gradually gaining a glossed-over, dulled tint that grew to coat the whole thing. Something about the way it didn't shine seemed to indicate sickness, strangely enough, and the man clearly felt it; he raised a hand to rub at it worriedly.
"I--" He groaned, coughed, then licked his lips. "It's---gone. Something's wrong." A clear Scandinavian accent lined his voice. He briefly closed the brown eye, waited, then an expression of horror overtook him. "Oh no."
He shot up as quickly as he could, scrambling to his feet with desperation, and whirled around in dizzying, panicked spirals, taking in all his surroundings all while murmuring to himself. "No, no--this can't be, not to me, no--" He then stopped, fearful. "This is--no, I can't remember..." He then furrowed his brow, then began testing out syllables on his tongue. "M... Mid.... Mid, something. No. No--no..."
"NO!"
The sudden roar echoed through the emptiness in the same way the lightning did.
Small tendrils of static lightning curled around his clenched fists, but they dissolved quickly. The sudden show of aggression and rage faded just as quickly, too: the man collapsed to his knees, holding his head in his hands, and what agonized sounds only describable as the most bitter sobs heard to man ensued as that powerful, solid body shook like a leaf. His mutterings were crazed, indecipherable, as a man who knew eternity attempted to reconcile the harsh reality that he'd just been demoted to the lowliest status of life in the universe he used to have mapped out.
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Asexual
sweetclover1
Hi loves, like my posts so I'll reply faster <3
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Post by sweetclover1 on May 15, 2018 9:11:06 GMT -5
On the long, winding, highway was a singular bus driving slowly from town to town. Really it was the only public transportation that could get people from one farming community to the other and because of it was almost always filled with people. The route was usually a quiet one, in the morning it was too early to have any rowdy customers, people walked around like zombies and often nearly missed their stops as they fell asleep on the long commute to the “city” that many went to for work. The night time route wasn’t much different, either, everyone was too exhausted from the work day or focused on going home that no one bothered with conversations. Currently there were only about a dozen passengers on the typically busy bus, it was Sunday after all and not many worked, many already halfway asleep after boarding the vehicle a half an hour ago. There was only one person perfectly alert despite how exhausted they were. It was a young man sitting in the very front of the bus, delicate fingers curled around a worn harness, back ramrod straight as he tried his best to stay awake and listened carefully for the announcement of his stop. He wasn’t much to look at, small and thin looking, and most didn’t pay much attention to him. He barely stood at five foot six and couldn’t be more than a hundred and twenty pounds soaking wet. His soft black hair curled nicely, covering his ears, but his most distinctive features were hidden by darkened glasses. His eyes were a deep cobalt blue, pupils a milkish color now, glassed over and unfocused. He was quiet, usually didn’t speak a word, and his service dog was the same way. She was a white golden retriever, slightly smaller in her stature too, and the only sound she would make was a soft panting when it was hot outside. They were used to the young man by now with his service dog and quickly found out that he rarely talked. He’d simply melted into the background now and that was how he preferred it. If he were to be perfectly frank any type of attention made him uncomfortable and was glad that he stopped hearing hushed whispers two months into his visits back home. The only one here who even knew his name was the bus driver. The young man, Simon, let out a soft sigh at the sound of distant thunder. Sure, he personally loved the rain when he was indoors or near his apartment, but having to walk back in it from the bus stop during a thunderstorm was hellish at best and usually ended with him being soaked to the bone and getting some kind of cold. So he was already preparing for that. The twenty one year old slowly sat up a little straighter, pulling his backpack onto his lap and unzipping it, feeling around until he grasped the rough material of his umbrella and pulled it out. He still had his jacket as well but didn’t want to take that out yet. It took more effort than he was willing to put out so he just grabbed the one other thing that would offer him some kind of protection from the storm. As he returned his bag to his back the bus jolted to a sudden halt and Simon had to cover his ears as a massive roll of thunder assaulted his ears. He could feel the bus shake from its effects and by how the hair on the back of his neck stood up he knew the lightening bolt must have hit somewhere close. There were startled noises coming from all the people around him but the sudden jerking of the bus was what really got Simons heart pounding. His mouth had dried a little, body tensing, mind flashing back to a night nearly a decade ago that had taken his sight. He could still smell the burning rubber, hear the alarmed screams, see the bright lights- But this wasn’t an accident. Simon had to tell himself that. If it was there would be more panic than disgruntled passengers who didn’t like being woken up before their stops. There was no smell of burnt anything and no cries of pain. The bus stopped because lightening got a little bit too close. Either way it was a bit much for the young man who stood as quickly as he could, feeling the need to get out of this tin can of death, even if he hadn’t felt this way about buses before. He pulled his service dog, Fenrir (Fen for short), quietly and ordered him forward. He raised a shaking hand towards the bus driver when he heard the other mans protests, needing to get out for a few moments to smell the fresh air, before slowly making his way off the platform and onto the gravel on the side of the road. Simon breathed in slowly, smelling burnt plants and the coppery smell of electricity, but Nothing else. He was unaware of the man at first, focusing more on calming his panicked mind as he sat down with his head between his knees, Fen resting next to him as he made sure Simon wasn’t close to the road. He only raised his head at the voice. It took him a few moments to figure out where the other man was. In Simons scrambled state it was hard to focus but finally he did, turning towards him, ignoring the fat rain drops that had already started to fall on him. Usually he was someone who would quickly pull up his jacket and open up his umbrella but he was currently so focused on the man that his umbrella was left forgotten in his hands as he turned toward the noise. The man was surely not from around these parts, it took the dark haired man a few moments to place the accent, Scandinavian. Simon frowned at that, tipping his head to one side, because why in the world would someone like that be here? They lived in a flyover state, the only visitors here were family members, and even the international program at the college he went to was tiny at best. They were all from China and Germany too. So it made no sense why someone with such an interesting accent would be here... nor why he sounded so distraught. With a slight frown the small man stood slowly, ordering Fen forwards once more, even if she was letting out a nervous whine and tugging back. Like always he listened to her, assuming there had to be some kind of ditch, so he simply hovered nearby as this man started shouting his “no’s” loud enough that the next town over could probably hear it. No doubt the man hadn’t seen Simon yet, he was kind of hard to catch, small and ever quiet. Even what he was wearing was unremarkable and blended into the rest of the world. It was a soft grey sweater with a white collared shirt underneath and dark jeans. He waited for a while longer before taking a deep breath and stepping a little bit forward, finding that the ground didn’t disappear under him, though it was rather uneven and he stopped pretty quickly once Fen stubbornly halted once more. “Um... excuse me? “ he started, voice soft and hesitant, a faint Georgian accent coming out as he spoke to the man who was crying out. Fen wouldn’t let Simon get any closer but he wasn’t going to just get back on the bus without making sure the man was alright. “Are... are you okay?” The burning scent was coming from him and suddenly Simon feared that this poor man had been hit by lightening. Did they have to call an ambulance for him? He shifted again, his shoes were starting to get warm, and something was telling him to get far away from this place. Simon tried to ignore the panicked pleas of his mind only because he assumed it was his anxiety talking. If the man needed help Simon was going to help him. He fixed his glasses, leaning down slowly, giving a whining Fenrir a comforting pat to soothe her once more. (Sorry if it’s a little shorter I wrote this out on notes on my phone. They’ll get longer once I get my laptop back )
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Post by Deleted on May 23, 2018 1:05:41 GMT -5
sorry for the false alarm in seeing my response to this page--I do plan on replying soon, probably within the next day. I just wrote a starter and my muse is a tad bit drained atm, but I'll get back on here when I'm fresh n ready to go again.
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Post by Deleted on May 23, 2018 23:37:11 GMT -5
Quiet as it was, the foreigner's voice was sudden enough to the man's newly dulled senses to startle this seemingly unshakable man slightly; in his normal body, with the senses and strength that most morals would deem superhuman, virtually nothing could sneak up on him. After all, who, besides another god, one of his equals, could scare a god? Who would even want to?
But here he was--clearly, obviously stripped of his omnipotence, stricken with blindness, and questions like that didn't matter anymore: he was no longer divine. There was nothing left to do but accept the situation that he'd been damned to, or else he'd be torturing himself for eternity or however long his new, cursed life would last. If he could both tame and provoke the very thunder and lightning and skies, and bend them all to his will with the flick of a finger, then he could somehow manage to live in this broken, depraved world.
After sitting up slowly, feeling strained muscles and tired bones creaking from the trauma of descent from his home, the name of which seemed just out of his mind's reach, he focused with an intense, smoldering gaze on the two figures that had approached him. He blinked several times at them to clear the blurriness from his eyes; the darkness in the afflicted one didn't waver, though, only adding to his frustration with the matter. What he saw surprised him: standing before him was a slight, sunglassed man with a dog on a leash, both clearly unnerved. For whatever reason, he thought both figures meek and tiny, but he couldn't think of where else he'd seen other men or dogs before--something just told him he was used to seeing them much larger, much more grandiose.
Nevertheless, he answered the mortal's man after a quiet moment passed between them. "I am alright," he said in simple, formal speech. The man glanced down at his body once more, checking his broad shoulders, chest, and legs for any trace of injury, again finding none. "Besides the char, I feel quite fine. Perhaps some soreness--but I've had worse." Even though he spoke on past what was necessary, a little more verbose than he usually was, his tone was humorless, and the glint of goodwill usually present in the disgraced god's eyes was gone.
In an attempt to prove his last statement true (which, again, he knew was true, but he couldn't produce any specific memory from the haze of his mind that he could express clearly to this poor, pitiable creature before him), the man attempted to rise from where the lightning bolt hit the ground. It was slow going at first--this Adonis of a man found his sturdy-looking limbs shaking tremendously with the seemingly easy labor of standing, which, again, was not something he was used to in the slightest. Just when he thought he had his bare feet securely underneath him, he fell to the earth again with a groan, wincing at the soreness in his muscles. Then he tried again, and failed again.
He rose on the third try, but found himself uncharacteristically disoriented and lightheaded when he stood; the ground beneath his feet seemed to be tossing him up and down the troughs of huge waves, making it hard to keep his balance. The man managed though, taking an awkward-looking but otherwise effective stance, and as he stared down this mere shadow of a man and his nervous dog, considering to ask them for assistance, he'd never felt weaker.
"Where am I, stranger?" The man asked, voice strained. "Tell me about this land--it does not look familiar to me, and I have seen many, many lands."
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Asexual
sweetclover1
Hi loves, like my posts so I'll reply faster <3
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Post by sweetclover1 on May 24, 2018 10:24:29 GMT -5
Simon had no idea that he had actually started this poor soul so much. He shifted a little uncomfortably at first when he didn't get an answer. Honestly Simon was a little bit worried that he'd actually have to get some type of help for this man. If he didn't answer then he'd have to call the police and stay here until they came... which was somethign that the dark haired young man didn't want to do. Honestly he just wanted to make it back to his warm and cozy apartment and go to sleep. However if someone was hurt he wasn't going to just leave them here alone.
He tipped his head to one side at the sound of some rustling. So the man was alert, that was for sure, he just didn't have any kind of verbal confirmation of that. He took another hesitant step forward until he heard Fen give a soft warning bark at that. Simon paused once more at that, sighing softly, because there wasn't anyway he was going to be able to help this stranger if his dog wasn't going to lead him to the other. So he stood here, shifting uncomfortably on his feet, hoping that the guy wasn't bleeding out or anything. He was unaware of the mans smoldering gaze, although Fenrir sure was, because the pale dog let out a warning growl like he didn't want this stranger even looking at the person he was supposed to protect. "Fen!" He warned, shocked, because he had never heard his dog growl before. He'd let out a warning bark but can't had actually growled before. Fen was trained and a typically mild animal.
Simons shoulders dropped in relief when he heard the other mans deep and rumbling voice. He couldn't help the shiver that ran through him at the sound of it, knowing for a fact that this was someone of importance, even if he only had a feeling about that. There was something in him that made Simon want to kneel, and that feeling was enough to snap him out of the temporary stupor, physically shaking his head to snap out of it. He was alright. Thats all he needed to know. It was odd, though, because he should have been a lot more injured than some char. "So... you weren't just hit by lightening?" He asked, still able to smell the static in the air, the burning and he had to swallow down his fear at that smell as he stood there rather awkwardly.
He did nothing as there was the sound of shuffling around, then a thump and a groan, telling Simon that this man was trying and failing to get up. He tugged a little on Fenrirs lead, before sighing when he realized there was no way he'd get the dog to go, then deciding to sit down on the rough ground. He winced as a few spikes from charred plants poked at him through his pants, uncomfortable, but not wanting to leave the guy until he was actually able to get up. Why he was so worried about this he wasn't sure, but something told him to just stay there, even if this stranger was more than likely perfectly capable of taking care of himself. As he sat down he seemed to curl into himself, making him look smaller than before, resting his chin on his knees as he waited quietly.
After the third try the man seemed to be able to finally get himself up. There wasn't any thumping around and groaning and afterr that Simon stood as well, wondering how weak this man was feeling, slowly turning so he could figure out where he was. He reached out a delicate hand to offer it to this stranger. Simon was pretty weak, heck he could barely lift Fenrir into the bath when he needed to be clean, but he supposed he could at least try to offer some type of support to someone who was having trouble walking.
Simon frowned at the question, because why would someone have no idea where they were? Did he have some kind of amnesia? "Well... you're in Indiana," He said slowly, rocking back and forth on his feet for a moment, before indicating towards the bus. He could still here it rumbling, because by some miracle the bus driver was staying there, no doubt just as curious as he was. "You're kind of in the middle of nowhere right now, between a tiny town and the city," He said awkwardly, not sure what else to say about it. His memories of this area and what it looked like were vague at best. He hadn't actually seen it in over a decade and surely things had changed by then but he wasn't going to say that just yet.
(Did we ever agree on where this was?)
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Post by Deleted on May 28, 2018 19:52:14 GMT -5
nah i don't think we ever did, but rural indiana's chill man. i always had an unassuming midwest state in mind, anyway! glad we were unintentionally on the same page lmao also! apologies this took a couple days to get a reply--i do plan on being more active on wcf but it's been a busy couple days. thanks for being so understanding thus far, man!
Being the former being of grandeur that he was, he barely paid attention to the dog's growl; back in the day, he knew he'd fought and slayed and tamed many a beast, with a ferocious, gigantic, man-eating wolf being one of them. That being said, the name this mysterious mortal addressed his dog by, "Fen," struck a familiar chord in the man. He took another longer glance at the dog once he was squarely on two feet, this time squinting both eyes, seeing and blind, and eyed him more critically.
"Fen..," He repeated, his whisper barely audible. It was infuriating: the man could've sworn that name meant something, and meant something very dear to him, yet he couldn't recall more than that feeling of desperation, grasping for straws, to save his own life. He furrowed his brow at the dog, trying to find another trace of familiarity in the golden's relatively unthreatening visage, and found none. He shook his head at his wandering mind, sighing as he turned his attention back to the smaller, sunglassed man before him, and his inquiries.
"I don't think I was struck by the lightning, but it certainly feels like I was," he answered, rather straightforward, in a matter-of-fact tone. "I can't recall the last time I felt this sore, this--what's the word? Stiff." He shifted in his stance lightly, crossing muscled arms over his chest. "I apologize. This language--English? I believe--it isn't my best."
Again, the man found himself confused by the information he was getting, but it wasn't out of a distant familiarity this time; he genuinely had no prior knowledge of the places this man was citing with such certainty. "Indiana," he repeated softly, trying the brand-new word out on his tongue for the first time. It felt odd and unnatural rolling off his tongue--certainly nothing like the language he was most accustomed to speaking, even if he couldn't even remember what language that was in the first place.
He furrowed his brow, then took another sweeping glance at the unfamiliar landscape around him. "This is Indiana, you say?" The man paused, drawing in a deep breath, and sighed. "I don't believe I've heard of this place before. In fact, this.. These plants, those mountains, it all looks so--different. It's all very new to me. And I haven't the slightest idea where to go, or where to find food, or lodging..." He trailed off, fixing his bicolored gaze on some indistinguishable point in the space ahead of him, thinking.
After a couple moments of deliberation, the blond-haired man seemed to come up with a solution. "Ah--yes, I can just take up stay with you, of course," he proclaimed aloud. "Young man--what might your name be? I promise you, I can make up for the resources I'll be using. I am very good at a lot of things, I can assure you."
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Asexual
sweetclover1
Hi loves, like my posts so I'll reply faster <3
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Post by sweetclover1 on May 29, 2018 16:03:08 GMT -5
(Okay good haha. Tbh I only said that cuz it's the only fly over state I've spent any time in... even if it was for a week lol. Also its all good! It'll probs start taking me longer to respond too soon... I'm hopefully getting a second job.)
Simon fixed his shirt as he waited for the man to speak. He shivered for a moment when he heard the soft repetition, before offering a small smile, because often people asked what his dogs name was. "Yes. He was named after Fenrir. You know, the wolf from Norse Mythology?" He explained as he let out the first chuckle he had so far. "Although I don't think that the name actually matches him. He's such a mellow and lazy but you wouldn't believed he was named after a huge Dire wolf that will kill ya," He joked a little as he rubbed the goldens ears. He could practically feel his seeing eye dog relax a little under Simons soothing hand. He felt calm now as his hands ran through the silky dogs fur.
He was still weirded out by how stiff the speech was even if it was clear this strangers first language was not English. Simon knew it wasn't something that he should have felt but maybe he was just a little bit on edge because of the storm and being stuck in the metal death trap called the bus during it. The dark haired man nodded a little when this stranger was told that he wasn't hit by the lightening. "Well... English is a pretty tough language to learn and you're doing good," he commented, trying to be nice, even if he was still wanting to just leave.
"Yeah... Indiana. Flyover state in the U.S?" He said, sensing some confusion, realizing that someone not from the country could very well have no idea where Indiana was. It wouldn't be such a stretch if they were unfamiliar with the place. So he tried to give some hints but apparently they didn't help at all. Simon frowned a little at the explanation, that literally everything wasn't familiar, even the plants and the trees... he couldn't believe that it could be so different but Simon had never been outside of the country and even if he had been he wouldn't be able to tell the difference.
His heard did go out to this stranger. He seemed hopelessly lost, talking about how he didn't know where to get food or lodging, and Simon didn't know what to do. He certainly couldn't offer a stranger a place... could he? Ah--yes, I can just take up stay with you, of course, the assumption made Simon snap his head towards the stranger with a frown. "Oh-uh... I guess... But you could always get a hotel room" He agreed hesitantly, because how could you actually say no to someone like this? "My names Simon... Whats yours?" He asked wryly, sounding rather doubtful, because if he was unable to find food or housing so how could he repay him?
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