Activity

Okay, so I’m going to try something I’ve never tried before:

Literally throwing my characters into the room. 😁

I always try to do something subtle and seamless when introducing my characters, but NO MORE *swipes arm around*

*knocks over the table lamp*

*is unaware of the fire that started*

😐

As evidenced, I am strange.

Very strange.

*blinks*

Right *clears throat*

Hope y’all like my clever, rather annoying boi!

 

OSLØN:

I was falling.

Falling falling falling-

CRASH.

After blinking a few times, I became aware that I had landed on … a table, and had upturned it over myself.

The pain in my ribs was a stabbing, humming kind that seemed to reverberate through my whole skeleton-

“AaaaAAGHAAGH!-”

Something about as heavy as I was suddenly crashed on the half-broken table overtop of me.

Wood and splinters flew everywhere.

I was crushed by a table … and by my half-brother.

“Rúan you idiot!” I howled, each strained word taking away the little breath I had. “Get off before you kill me!”

There was a groan, the a muttering of something that sounded suspiciously like “wouldn’t care if I did.” Then the 130 pounds of oaf rolled off the painful sandwich he’d made, easing the pressure off my back a little.

With little to no strength, I shakily pushed myself to my knees, the demolished table pieces sliding bumpily off my half-broken body.

Rúan watched as I sufferingly made my way to my feet, not bothering to extend a hand of assistance like he would do with everyone else.

Anyone else.

“You’re getting old, Ozzy,” Rúan remarked once I had finally righted myself. “Twenty-four and you’re hauling yourself around like you’re eighty.”

“Don’t call me that,” I snarled, bending forward to release the stiffness from my back.

The stupid git just grinned — that annoying, cheeky smile that belonged to his father. He shook his head rapidly, plumes of dust billowing off the red curls that he’d inherited from our mother. “I like talking to you, since then I can release my temper and not feel a shred of guilt.”

“Shut up, Rúdi.”

Rúan smile disappeared at my usage of our mother’s pet name for him.

Then his face contorted into a pained, pinched scream.

I looked down, and there was a snake with its jaws clamped around his ankle.