( he says yes to joining the volunteer efforts because there's no reason to say no. these kinds of things were Food Soul duties, though none of these people were called to be Master Attendants and nor does Century Egg feel his Soul Power present within him in this strange place. (it isn't right, but he's been here for a couple of weeks now, long enough to accept it. shackles don't weigh his wrists down, and there's new magic in its place. bizarre, but managable.)
but, most importantly, doing something could be the answer he seeks, the path which will lead him back to Tierra and his light. something to keep his hands busy and his mind focused away from the darker thoughts which keep forcing their way in.
(he was always going to betray you. why didn't you do it first? protect yourself. this is just another tomb.)
new, and without any connections, Century Egg defaults to the only thing he knows for sure: following someone else with supplies is the right way forward. even if that person is walking right towards a field of corpses and living, screeching plants. )
... Where are we going?
( hope you didn't think you were travelling without company, person, because Century Egg certainly didn't. )
— swap meet.
This is... for me?
( the bazaar is bustling, busy in a way that Century Egg still hasn't readjusted to. and being stopped by a random salesperson who holds out a sparkly, but poor quality, stone decoration to him startles the man, his hand reaching out for the offered item as the salesperson starts an obviously over the top pitch of why this piece of tat is actually a rare antique. )
Is it a gift?
( he's being given it, right? so it's a gift. )
— healing circle after party.
( the circles smell good, and Century Egg recognises a lot of the items people are grabbing, but nevertheless, he stands outside of any of the goings on, watching people with unnerving, unblinking, silence. this strange, foreign magic wouldn't be out of place in Tierra, sold to people as cures for miasma or the like, but more than anything, Century Egg aches as he watches these partnerships form. people with friends or strangers, finding their own light in some sort of darkness.
he blinks as one of the witches addresses him — why don't you find a partner, join in! — and looks around, as though her question were a command.
uh... anyone nearby? )
— wildcard.
( hit me with anything! message me at exits#8071 / exits if you wanna chat about stuff. )
century egg × food fantasy × dark / death | warrior spirit