Mr. Youngblood, still hobbling around on a magitechnical crutch since yesterday, eyes Bijou’s cicada and the gift very suspiciously. This is his second shell, but his first gift, and it kind of seems like maybe someone was fuckin’ holding out on his ass if they were supposed be bringing gifts all this damn time. And if he wants to find out what’s in that pretty ass wrapping paper (and he really wants to find out what’s in that pretty ass wrapping paper), or what the fuck she means about him (not) being the dumbest motherfucker here, then he’s probably gotta take that shell.
Taking the golden bug in his hand, Mr. Youngblood quirks his head in confusion when it changes shape, taking the form of a beer can, crushed flat. He turns the can over in his hand, but in a moment, the can is gone, and so is he.
Unlike his last experience, Mr. Youngblood doesn’t hit the dirt. He stumbles into the wall and leans there, propped up, as the moment in time replays in his head. And even after he’s done, he takes a moment, toying with the memory as the sharp details already start to trickle away.
“Ya know,” he laughs, little more than air escaping, “I’d prob’ly still have two damn legs if that was true.”
Mr. Youngblood pivots on his crutch to face Bijou again. His face, usually haggard and puffy from bad decisions and hard livin’, seems almost youthful now. The young Wybie YB, champion broom racer and Deeplurk Quid MVP two-point-five years in a row (don’t ask), shines out of those eyes.
"Shit, I really hope all y'all kids ain't coming to me for some kinda pep talk or advice or some shit," Mr. Youngblood continues, picking at the box in his hand. "But, you know, don't eat yellow snow, chug water if you're hard-partyin', only talk shit when you're plannin' to back it up or lose a leg for it, an', fair's fair."
Mr. Youngblood digs in his pocket and removes a bottle opener, pink, with an image of a sunset. The words Follow Your Dreams are painted in flaking gold script. He tosses it to Bijou. "And technically, fuckin' anything can be a weapon." He can't possibly mean this bottle opener, can he?
Later, anyone who enters Mr. Youngblood's office will see the book propped up behind it. If anyone asks about it, he'll tell them he can't fucking read, but it sure does look pretty.
[Bijou has received an inspirational bottle opener. It opens bottles and maybe reminds her of a teacher who shouldn't drink so much. There are no endgame effects, but it's still nice.]
Bijou Returns Wyborn's Memory
Taking the golden bug in his hand, Mr. Youngblood quirks his head in confusion when it changes shape, taking the form of a beer can, crushed flat. He turns the can over in his hand, but in a moment, the can is gone, and so is he.
Unlike his last experience, Mr. Youngblood doesn’t hit the dirt. He stumbles into the wall and leans there, propped up, as the moment in time replays in his head. And even after he’s done, he takes a moment, toying with the memory as the sharp details already start to trickle away.
“Ya know,” he laughs, little more than air escaping, “I’d prob’ly still have two damn legs if that was true.”
Mr. Youngblood pivots on his crutch to face Bijou again. His face, usually haggard and puffy from bad decisions and hard livin’, seems almost youthful now. The young Wybie YB, champion broom racer and Deeplurk Quid MVP two-point-five years in a row (don’t ask), shines out of those eyes.
"Shit, I really hope all y'all kids ain't coming to me for some kinda pep talk or advice or some shit," Mr. Youngblood continues, picking at the box in his hand. "But, you know, don't eat yellow snow, chug water if you're hard-partyin', only talk shit when you're plannin' to back it up or lose a leg for it, an', fair's fair."
Mr. Youngblood digs in his pocket and removes a bottle opener, pink, with an image of a sunset. The words Follow Your Dreams are painted in flaking gold script. He tosses it to Bijou. "And technically, fuckin' anything can be a weapon." He can't possibly mean this bottle opener, can he?
Later, anyone who enters Mr. Youngblood's office will see the book propped up behind it. If anyone asks about it, he'll tell them he can't fucking read, but it sure does look pretty.
[Bijou has received an inspirational bottle opener. It opens bottles and maybe reminds her of a teacher who shouldn't drink so much. There are no endgame effects, but it's still nice.]