Zi’da, 1 Arc 720
On the 1st of Zi‘da, Devin Thorn, thief, conman extraordinaire and not entirely clueless incredibly skilled, experienced and all-around awesome Becomer was sitting at the vanity table in his luxurious bedroom yet again, experimenting with various kinds of makeup. He had just put a bit of eyeliner on, with surgical precision (literally, he was actually a skilled surgeon!) and was working on his eyeshadow when somebody banged on the entrance door, as if they were going to break into …
He jumped up abruptly, accidentally smearing some of the eyeshadow onto his cheek in the process and looked around wide-eyed. He was just about to try and locate his sword so that he would be able to poke a few new holes into the intruder when someone suddenly started to scream. “Help! Help! My daughter’s hurt!” a woman screamed on top of her lungs and in a tone of voice that was filled with utter despair.
For a moment, the young Mortalborn just stood there, as if he were frozen, and then he stopped looking for his sword and simply ran down the stairs as is. When he opened the door, a middle-aged and somewhat overweight human woman with red curls rushed past him, carrying a little girl in her arms that the same red curls in her arms. A blood-soaked piece of cloth was wrapped around her right leg.
“Where’s the doctor?” she wanted to know and looked around. “I was told that a famous doctor lives in this house! Tell me where he is!” she asked Devin who momentarily wondered if she was blind because he was right in front of her before he gestured for her to follow him.
“I am the doctor”, he told her. “And yes, I know that I’m young, and I know that I’m mutated and that I have black nails and that there is makeup on my cheek. I’m inventing a new fashion trend”, he claimed before his tone of voice abruptly became much more serious. Devin was eccentric, to say the least, and he loved to cause trouble, but when someone was hurt and needed his help, he didn’t make jokes, at least not usually.
“What exactly happened to your daughter?” he wanted to know while he led the woman to his treatment room that had been his second bedroom once upon a time. “Did she have an accident?” he continued and gestured for her to lay the girl who just stared at him from out of big brown eyes and didn’t say a single word down on the examination table.
While he waited for her answer, he removed the blood-soaked piece of cloth that definitely did not constitute a proper bandage in his opinion. He tried to be careful, but the little girl still let out a whimper which caused the Mortalborn to smile at her reassuringly before he remarked, “It will stop hurting soon. I just need to take a closer look at your leg.”
Devin didn’t like children particularly because they were unpredictable and uncontrollable, and he definitely never wanted to have any children of his own because that would just make him lose his mind, but if a child was in pain, they needed to be comforted rather than being ignored in favor of the adults that were with them or being treated like a soulless piece of furniture. That was a fact as far as he was concerned!
On the 1st of Zi‘da, Devin Thorn, thief, conman extraordinaire and not entirely clueless incredibly skilled, experienced and all-around awesome Becomer was sitting at the vanity table in his luxurious bedroom yet again, experimenting with various kinds of makeup. He had just put a bit of eyeliner on, with surgical precision (literally, he was actually a skilled surgeon!) and was working on his eyeshadow when somebody banged on the entrance door, as if they were going to break into …
He jumped up abruptly, accidentally smearing some of the eyeshadow onto his cheek in the process and looked around wide-eyed. He was just about to try and locate his sword so that he would be able to poke a few new holes into the intruder when someone suddenly started to scream. “Help! Help! My daughter’s hurt!” a woman screamed on top of her lungs and in a tone of voice that was filled with utter despair.
For a moment, the young Mortalborn just stood there, as if he were frozen, and then he stopped looking for his sword and simply ran down the stairs as is. When he opened the door, a middle-aged and somewhat overweight human woman with red curls rushed past him, carrying a little girl in her arms that the same red curls in her arms. A blood-soaked piece of cloth was wrapped around her right leg.
“Where’s the doctor?” she wanted to know and looked around. “I was told that a famous doctor lives in this house! Tell me where he is!” she asked Devin who momentarily wondered if she was blind because he was right in front of her before he gestured for her to follow him.
“I am the doctor”, he told her. “And yes, I know that I’m young, and I know that I’m mutated and that I have black nails and that there is makeup on my cheek. I’m inventing a new fashion trend”, he claimed before his tone of voice abruptly became much more serious. Devin was eccentric, to say the least, and he loved to cause trouble, but when someone was hurt and needed his help, he didn’t make jokes, at least not usually.
“What exactly happened to your daughter?” he wanted to know while he led the woman to his treatment room that had been his second bedroom once upon a time. “Did she have an accident?” he continued and gestured for her to lay the girl who just stared at him from out of big brown eyes and didn’t say a single word down on the examination table.
While he waited for her answer, he removed the blood-soaked piece of cloth that definitely did not constitute a proper bandage in his opinion. He tried to be careful, but the little girl still let out a whimper which caused the Mortalborn to smile at her reassuringly before he remarked, “It will stop hurting soon. I just need to take a closer look at your leg.”
Devin didn’t like children particularly because they were unpredictable and uncontrollable, and he definitely never wanted to have any children of his own because that would just make him lose his mind, but if a child was in pain, they needed to be comforted rather than being ignored in favor of the adults that were with them or being treated like a soulless piece of furniture. That was a fact as far as he was concerned!
